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THE SILENT PREACHER; 
 
 POSTHUMOUS SERMONS OF THE 
 REV. SAMUEL PENNY, 
 
 MANVILLE, R. I. 
 
 WITH A COMMEMOKATIVE ADDRESS, 
 
 DELIVERED IN ST. STEPHEN'S CHURCH, PROVIDENCE, 
 
 September 21,' 1853, 
 
 BY REV. HENRY WATERMAN. 
 
 PROVIDENCE: 
 GEO. H. WHITNEY, 
 
 1854, 
 

 /V^'\°\-\o^ 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, In tUe year 1863. 
 
 BY GEORGE H. WHITNEY, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Bhodc-Island. 
 
 Knowles, Anthony & Co., Pkinters. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 It is known, we presume, lo well nigh all, into wliose Lands tliis 
 volume may iall, ttat its loTed and gifted author was one of the vic- 
 tims of that Railway catastrophe, which occurred near Pawtucket, 
 E. I., on the 12th day of August last. His personal and pastoral 
 qualities had rendered him such a favorite both at the altar and the 
 fireside, that when it pleased the Mastee to call him from our side, 
 to " go up higher,'' the suggestion of a Commemorative Service 
 found a prompt welcome on every hand. At a meeting of several 
 of the Clergy, such a Service was appointed to he held in St. Ste- 
 phen's Church, Providence, on the 21st of September; and, by 
 Divine peimission, was celebrated accordingly. The Address deliv- 
 ered on that occasion has beeu prefixed to this Volume with a reluc- 
 tance which has been overruled, but not convinced, and which 
 readers will appreciate better than hearers. The expressed wishes, 
 however, of those whom lie loved best in this world, were too sacred 
 to be refused. 
 
 But besides the desire for some Act of Commemoration, there iras 
 another quite as general and spontaneous, and much more important, 
 viz., a desire that some of our departed Brother's manuscripts might 
 be published ; that he, though dead, might still be a Preacher of 
 righteousness to the living. That desire, under the favor of Provi- 
 dence, has been consummated. And the present Volume -vyill be 
 valued by many, not only as a, memorial of the lamented and holy 
 Dead, but as a happy ppecimeu of intellectual power and culture, 
 dedicated to the service of the Sanctuary. 
 
 The labor of preparing these Sermons for publication has been 
 eminently a " labor of love." " No one of them gave me uneasiness 
 but the last, for then I grieved that my work was done.' It was a 
 
IV ^ I'EEPACE. 
 
 coustant source of regret, however, that they could not hare had the 
 benefit of the author's own revision. The reader should bear in 
 mind that they are sent forth under all the disadvantages that usu- 
 ally attend posthumous publications. The most of these discourses 
 •were written in haste ; and were intended for the ear, and not for 
 the eye. They are entitled, therefore, to a generous consideration ; 
 for the editorial discretion to which they have been subjected, can- 
 not but betray some marks of its insufficiency. But whatever rhet- 
 orical defects may be discovered in this Volume, one perusal will 
 amply vindicate the following testimony, uttered at the " Commemo- 
 ration ;" — " Kedemption through the blood of the Cross, — its neces- 
 sity, — its freeness, — its glory, — its blessings, — its obligations, — these 
 were his favorite themes." 
 
 We cannot close these prefatory remarks, without reminding the 
 reader, that the sermons now before him, (the last two excepted,) 
 were all carried into the pulpit, where the author kneeled down, and 
 reverently bowed that meek countenance, both before and after the 
 delivery of each one, imploring for them a heavenly benediction. 
 And as the virtue of a fervent prayer often survives the person who 
 prayed it, we cherish the pleasing thought that this Volume goes 
 forth, already hallowed by the purest of devotions. And let me say 
 to each reader, — If you loved the writer of these sermons, — if you 
 love his memory still, and love the great object that lay so near his 
 Pastoral heart, do not commence the perusal of these precious Ke- 
 mains, until you have commended them to that blessing, without 
 which, both Pulpit and Press wiU speak in vain. 
 
 H. W. 
 
 Pkovidence, December, 1853. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 COMJIEMOEATIVE ADDRESS 9 
 
 SERMONS. 
 
 I. The Love of Christ 29 
 
 II. The Wisdom from above 41 
 
 in. Growth is Grace 53 
 
 IV. Themes of Praise CO 
 
 v. The Lord known by His Judgments 75 
 
 TI. The Believer, an Heir 89 
 
 YII. Self-examination 100 
 
 VIII. Forsake all for Christ 112 
 
 IX. Neither clear nor dark 126 
 
 X. Christ the Foundation 141 
 
 XL The certain detection of sin 153 
 
 XIL The Saviour's Name 168 
 
 XIII. The Past required 180 
 
 XIV. The Prayer of Moses 193 
 
 XV. The Eequisites of Prayer 207 
 
 XVL Free Grace 221 
 
 XVII. Christ and His Cross 230 
 
 XVIII. A HAPPY rising by any means 250 
 
 XIX. Confirmation 2C2 
 
 XX. The pleasures of a religious life 273 
 
 XXI. The Ascension of Christ 286 
 
 XXII. " The Privilege of the believer 299 
 
 XXIIL The Portion of the soul 311 
 
 XXIV. The Pkeciousness of Christ 324 
 
 XXV. The Christian Soldier 338 
 
 XXVI. Lessons from the experience of Daniel 351 
 
 XXVII. The STILL SMALL VOICE 366 
 
COMMEMORATIVE ADDRESS. 
 
ADDRESS. 
 
 "Precious ia tlio sight of tlie Lord is tlie death of 
 His saints," of every one of them from the least to the 
 greatest. Not only are the Saviour's eye and heart 
 alivay taking- note of the toils, and tears, and hopes, and 
 prayers, of each living servant, as he strives to fulfil his 
 duty ; but His watchful and tender Pro^ddenoe embra- 
 ces within it the hour when, and place where, and cir- 
 cumstances under which that servant's labours and trials 
 shall be ended. Christ loved, and cared for, His first 
 mart^rr St. Stephen, through all his career ; but it is not 
 a mere conceit which represents Him as " opening the 
 windows, the curtains of heaven itself, to see Stephen 
 die, and to show Himself to Stephen." 
 
 Precious before Him is the death of all His saints : 
 and precious should it be with us. The memory of the 
 dead should be cherished as a consecrated thing ; for 
 we regard it as a most wholesome and blessed thing. 
 The " Commimion of Saints " implies not only a fellow- 
 ship of holy men one Avith another on earth, but a fel- 
 lowship of holy men with kindred spirits withdrawn 
 from earth. And children of grace, in every age, have 
 found it a profitable, as well as a grateful, exercise to 
 allow their minds to walk, as Baxter has it, in the 
 streets of the City of God : to let it linger for an hour. 
 
10 
 
 in a purer and more peaceful presence than this fallen 
 world can know as yet. Such a habit may, indeed, de- 
 generate into an abuse, — as we have painful witness in 
 Rome's masses for the dead, — ^her invocations, — ^her 
 purgatory, — ^her legends. But it must be remembered 
 that almost all her corruptions are the abuse, or the 
 vicious excess, of something originally and intrinsically 
 good ; and it becomes us to be careful lest the fear of 
 what is wrong loosen our attachment to what is right ; 
 lest we abandon some primitive and scriptural basis, on 
 account of some ugly superstructure that has been 
 reared upon it by others : lest the superstition of the 
 past recoil into the Sadduceeism of the present. And 
 the custom which has prevailed throughout Christendom 
 from olden time, of honouring the very dust of departed 
 saints, and of calling to remembrance in a solemn act, 
 their faith and love, — their crosses and comforts, — their 
 ventures and victories, — ^how the Lord was glorified by 
 what He did in them, — and for them, and through 
 them, — ^is a custom recognised in the worship of our 
 Church, and sanctioned by the purest instincts of our 
 nature. It will do us good to think about the dead in 
 Christ more than we do. It will serve to detach us 
 from om- affinities with the perishable and grovelling, 
 and uplift our thoughts to holier and worthier themes. 
 It will aid in rousing us to a deeper consciousness of an 
 unseen world, and its imtried realities, and so quicken 
 our diligence in preparing to meet them. It will serve 
 to kindle within us the resolve to emulate the graces, 
 and the trophies of those who have gone before. If the 
 heathen Themistocles was so strangely wrought upon, 
 and changed by witnessing the fame that Miltiades had 
 earned for himself, should not the heroic daring, — the 
 ungrudged sacrifices, — the hard-won triumphs of Chris- 
 tian soldiers now fallen, — of fathers and brothers and 
 sisters in Christ, stir us up to maintain the glory of our 
 spiritual lineage, — to cultivate such a faith in God, and 
 such a devotion to His service as shall not disgrace our 
 
11 
 
 illustrious descent ?* Beloved, who braved the terriffic 
 assaults that were first made upon our holy Faith ? 
 The dead in Christ. Who first illustrated its power 
 to elevate and purify man's polluted nature ? The dead. 
 To whom, under God, is the Church of Christ indebt- 
 ed for its present strength and growth and prospects in 
 the world? To the dead. Who first laid on these 
 shores the foundation of that branch of the Universal 
 Church, which we own as our mother? Who first 
 preached its holy Faith, and ministered its holy Sacra- 
 ments in this city, and in this Diocese ? The dead in 
 Christ. Brethi'en, to whom are yoii indebted for much 
 tender care, and many earnest intercessions in your be- 
 half? for many patient, kind words of instruction, and 
 warning, and entreaty, the silent influence of which re- 
 main with you to this day ? Some of you must answer, 
 To the dead. And now that they are gone, should we 
 hold them at a distance from us, as if they were strang- 
 ers ? God forbid ! Ought we not rather to be at some 
 pains to maintain sentiments of love and veneration 
 towards our brethren in Christ, who have been delivered 
 from the burden of the flesh ? 
 
 Brethren, this present world is with us too much ; its 
 mere utilities and materialities, — its feuds and rivalries, 
 — its fashions and fascmations, — its pomps and profits, 
 engross too much our appetites and energies; they 
 are at this moment crowding out of many a busy soul 
 those themes that take hold of the invisible and the ev- 
 erlasting. And it is good for us to seize and employ 
 every means that will help us to " struggle out of the 
 thick clay which besets us on every side." And I am 
 sure that one such means is a contemplation of those, 
 who, having overcome the world, have now done with it 
 
 * "We are Eleazer's children, of whose foxtitiide and greatness, you 
 have had sufficient proof. The father has distinguished himself first; his 
 sons will not degenerate, The brave Priest is dead with honor; his family 
 will follow him. — Language of the Maccabees to A.nti0chus,jitst before their 
 execution. 
 
12 
 
 forever. Some of the mightiest and most lasting im- 
 pressions on character, are insensibly communicated by- 
 breathing a pm-e moral atmosphere, — ^by mixing in holy 
 society. " He that walketh vrith wise men shall be wise." 
 But "we may honor the memories of departed saiats, 
 and think of them, and call to mind their ways and 
 ■works, each one for himself in the privacy of his home. 
 The service, however, in which we are now employed, is 
 termed a cojimemoeaiion ; a word which implies that it 
 is a public act, in which numbers jointly engage. It is 
 an assembling of kindred, and brethren, and friends, to 
 celebrate, one with another, — commemorate, — the holy 
 life and death of brethren removed to a holier life, 
 where no death can follow. Closet thoughts and re- 
 membrances of the dead have often exerted, ^athout 
 doubt, an excellent influence; but a public solemnity, 
 where eye meets eye, and voice meets voice, and heart 
 meets heart, and tear meets tear, seems adapted to pro- 
 duce deeper and more lasting impressions. Hence one 
 reason of this morning's solenonity. An awful Provi- 
 dence hath snatched from our midst a dearly beloved 
 brother in the Lord, the charming beauty and mellow- 
 ness of whose character had won him a sm-e place in 
 well-nigh every heart, and whose intellectual gifts and 
 refinement had gained for him the admiration of all in 
 this alSicted Diocese, both clergy and laity, who can ap- 
 preciate consecrated talent. He so excelled us in the 
 qualities of both heart and head, and hath left behiad 
 him a name so fragTant, that it has seemed proper for 
 us to pause, and step aside to some holy ground for the 
 purposes of recollection and praise and prayer, and for 
 assisting each other to draw some spiritual profit or con- 
 solation from what God has been doing at oiu- side. 
 "We do not meet here to glorify a departed soul, but to 
 glorify God in him; not to indulge the language of a 
 randoni eulogy, but to learn from liis example, and from 
 his end, more perfectly than we have yet done, some 
 great lessons of life. 
 
13 
 
 Ever since our brother Penny's decease, it has been 
 to me a source of keen regret, and of wonder too, that 
 I never obtained from him a more minute and connected 
 account of the years that preceded his entrance upon 
 the pastoral work here in Rhode Island. Of his youth 
 and early manliood, I have to confess but a fragmentary 
 acquaintance. He was born in the city of New York, 
 in the year of grace, 1808. He manifested through his 
 younger days, more or less of sensibility to the great 
 truths and motives of the Gospel. His parents were 
 devout members of the Presbyterian Cliurch; and he 
 enjoyed the unspeakable advantage of those quiet, but 
 powerful influences, that cluster within, and around, a 
 Christian household. He was the child of many a pious 
 counsel, — of many an earnest prayer ; — of counsels and 
 prayers that borrowed strength from a pure parental 
 example. To those domestic influences, in connection 
 with the stated catechetical exercises which his Pastor 
 held every week for the benefit of the lambs of the 
 flock, he was, without doubt, largely indebted, under 
 God, for that exceeding pirrity of character, and of prin- 
 ciple, which adorned his riper years, and which now ren- 
 ders his memory so dear. In the tenderness of child- 
 hood, he was taught and trained in the ways of religion ; 
 and he canied with him through life a distinct recollec- 
 tion of his fondness, when a boy, for the society of his 
 mother : her presence and words had higher charms for 
 him than all those sports and fellowships that usually 
 engross our juvenile affections. And as he lived long 
 enough to appreciate the blessing of a parent's guidance 
 and prayers, so one, at least, of his parents lived long 
 enough to feel rewarded a thousand times over, for all 
 his efforts and anxieties in behalf of his youngest son, 
 — ^his darling, — the Benjamin of his old age, — ^him whom 
 we commemorate to-day. That father and son were a 
 great comfort to each other: they were "lovely and 
 pleasant in their lives, and in their deaths, they were " 
 scarcely " divided." The venerable sire, of more than 
 
 2* 
 
M 
 
 four-score years, slept peacefully in Christ on the 24th 
 July last, at his residence in Brooklyn; it was our 
 brother's privilege to minister at his bod-side, and" to re- 
 ceive his parting words. After performing the last of- 
 fices of filial and fraternal duty, he returned to Ehode 
 Island, and in less than tlu-ee days after he reached his 
 pai'ish, he joined his father in Paradise. 
 
 Mr. Penny was favored with the best opportunities 
 of a liberal education that his native city afforded, and 
 those who enjoyed his society much, will need no assur- 
 ance that those opportunities were well used. He be- 
 came a member of Columbia College, and graduated at 
 that institution in 1827. He then chose the Law as the 
 profession for which he would prepare himself, and then 
 pursue as the business of his life. To this end, he en- 
 tered himself a student in the Law School, over which 
 the late Judge Gould was then presiding with so much 
 popularity and success at Litchfield. How long he re- 
 mained there, 1 am unable to state ; but while there, he 
 applied himself so intensely to his studies, that his health 
 broke down under the exhausting tasks which he im- 
 posed upon himself Then and there, was laid the foun- 
 dation of those physical ailments and infirmities, which 
 thenceforward entailed upon our brother so many days 
 and nights of weariness and pain ; and which so often 
 disabled him from fulfilling the duties which his heart 
 loved. The legal studies, into which he had thrown 
 himself with such ardor and industry, were necessarily 
 suspended : and in the hope of repairing his shattered 
 nerves, and recruiting his wasted energies, he became a 
 traveller on the great deep : twice visited th« West In- 
 dies : but the great object of his travels was never but 
 partially gained. He could never win back the blessing 
 of that health which excessive devotion to study had 
 forfeited. But there is reason to believe that his lost 
 blessing became, through Divine mercy, the channel of a 
 richer blessing than he ever possessed before, — a bless- 
 ing which he has carried with him into eternity. He 
 
15 
 
 was led to realize more deeply than ever before, that 
 his soul needed a physician more than his body : and he 
 sought more earnestly than ever, to have that soul 
 "washed and healed in the fountain opened for sin and 
 uncleanness. 
 
 The time when he first openly declared himself on 
 the Lord's side, I do not recollect ever to have heard 
 him mention, and have been unable to ascertain. We 
 feel warranted, however, in supposing, that there was 
 one individual not yet alluded to, whose acquaintance 
 and intercourse with Mr. Penny had something to do 
 with our dear brother's confession of Cheist before men, 
 and with his final determination to retire from the com- 
 munion in which he had been reared, — to identify him- 
 self with our Chvirch, and to ofi'er himself a candidate 
 for her ministry. I refer to the late Bdwaed Beistbd 
 Eastburn, a brother of the present Bishop of Massachu- 
 setts. He was a, young man of excellent talents and 
 attainments ; distinguished by great modesty, gentleness 
 and good sense, and by the great strength and purity of 
 his religious principles. He had almost completed his 
 theological studies, preparatory to his admission to holy 
 orders, when death arrested him in 1830; the young 
 soldier received his discharge almost in the act of gird- 
 ing on his armor. Mr. Penny and himself resided in 
 each other's immediate neighborhood : they were class- 
 mates in college, and were very intimately associated 
 together. It would not be strange if our brother de- 
 rived a growing impression of the importance of a re- 
 ligion, and the advantages of a Church, which his gifted 
 and dear friend adorned and recommended so well. 
 
 Previously, however, to his having made any change 
 in his ecclesiastical relations, he had determined to de- 
 vote himself to the ministry of the Presbyterian Church. 
 He connected himself with the Lane Theological Semi- 
 nary, near Cincinnati, intending to prosecute there the 
 studies appropriate to a candidate for the Sacred Of- 
 fice. It was during his residence there, that he serious- 
 
16 
 
 ly examined for himself the distinctive claims and prin- 
 ciples of the Protestant Episcopal Church. The con- 
 scientiousness which marked his whole career, would 
 not allow him to smader the religious ties which had 
 bound him elsewhere, for any consideration of mere taste 
 or preference, or for any other consideration that did 
 not involve principle. He satisfied himself that the 
 threefold constitution of the Ministry was of Apostolic 
 origin, and of binding authority. Whatever cii'cum- 
 stances may haA^e inclined him at first to regard our 
 Church with favor, his union with her was the result of 
 clear and deliberate conviction. And his subsequent 
 course evinced that he was not only in her, but of her : 
 he appreciated her privileges and her position, as an 
 undoubted and traceable branch of the original Vine. 
 Every year's experience and comparison did but strength- 
 en his attachment. 
 
 Bat while the result of his investigations at the Lane 
 Seminary was such as we have mentioned, it could not 
 but cost his sensitive nature a struggle to act on the con- 
 A'ictions to which he had been brought, and to separate 
 himself from a fold, which the dearest of his kindred 
 loved as their spiritual home, and which they would be 
 sorry to have him leave. Unexpectedly to himself, how- 
 ever, the weight of that trial was somewhat relieved, in 
 a way that our brother felt to be quite providential, but 
 which does not call for public mention. He returned 
 to New York, and became a member of the General 
 Theological Seminary of our Church in the year 1835, 
 — and graduated in 1838. He was admitted to the 
 Diaconate about the first of July in that year ; in the 
 course of the ensuing Autumn, a good Providence turned 
 his steps hitherward. He first of&ciated at Portsmouth, 
 and then at Jamestown, but did not remain long at either 
 parish. About the iu-st of January, 1840, he assumed 
 the Eectorship of Emanuel Church, Manville, which was 
 the scene of nearly all Ms subsequent labours. In 1 845, 
 he resigned the parish, and accompanied Bishop South- 
 
17 
 
 gate to Constantinople, as a Missionai-y laborer in that 
 most interesting field. But the climate there, operat- 
 ing on a frame impaired by the fatigues of land-travel, 
 disabled him almost immediately for any active exer- 
 tion, and he remained there but a few weeks. In the 
 course of the following year, his old flock welcomed him 
 back again to their midst : his pastoral labors, however, 
 were much interrupted by his infirmities of body, and in 
 _the Spring of 1852, he thought it a duty to vacate the 
 Rectorship, in the double hope of recruiting himself by 
 rest, and of securing to the parish a more vigorous su- 
 perintendence than he was competent to supply himself. 
 After an absence of a year, he accepted a proposal to 
 officiate for the same parish during the present summer : 
 he preached there on the second and third Sundays in 
 July, and no more. On the afternoon of the last men- 
 tioned Sunday, being the 17th day of July, ho preached 
 for the last time, — on the characteristics of a good sol- 
 dier of Christ. That same week, he was summoned to 
 his father's bed-side, in Brooklyn, and was absent about 
 three weeks, — a portion of his, time, after his father's 
 burial, being occupied in the composition of two Ser- 
 mons, which he was destined not to utter himself; both 
 of them worthy of his reputation, as the most finished 
 sermonizer in the. Diocese, and one of them, on " the 
 stUl small voice," worthy of any man's reputation, either 
 here or elsewhere. 
 
 The afternoon of Tuesday, August 9, found him once 
 more in the midst of his flock : on the fatal morning of 
 Friday, the 12th, he set out on a brief visit to Paw- 
 tucket, intending to . return at noon ; he little thought 
 that the car on which he embarked, was a triumphal 
 chariot to carry home his pilgrim soul. 
 
 Thirteen years of aflfectionate, confidential intercourse 
 
 ^ with our truly reverend brother, now taken from us, 
 
 may expose me, bretlu-en, to the danger of exaggerated 
 
 praise ; but I speak nothing to which scores before me 
 
 will not respond most sincerely; when I say that his 
 
18 
 
 Christian character was one of singular purity and 
 blamelessness. When the stunning report of his death 
 passed from one to another of those who had known 
 him, the first thought on each heart, — ^the first ejacula- 
 tion that sprang to the lips, was, " How well prepared 
 was he to go, unwarned !" The feeling was not simply, 
 that there was good hope of his being at rest, but it was 
 this : — " If ever one gave evidence of preparation for 
 death, it was he." In whatever circle he moved, he left 
 behind him the impression of a meek, unostentatious, 
 uniform, reliable piety. Nor can we wonder thereat ; 
 for he exhibited in his deportment not only the sub- 
 stance of godliness, but its ornaments. And although 
 substance is more important than ornament, yet when 
 the ornamental serves to recommend the substance, and 
 lends it new attractiveness and power, the ornamental 
 becomes useful. I cannot help thinking that here is one 
 reason why our brother's Christian character was so im- 
 pressive : — ^liis personal religion not only had a reality, 
 — it was a jewelled and shining reality. Our Bibles 
 an d our observation teach us to make such a distinction. 
 Th e Bible speaks not only of holiness, but of " the beau- 
 ty of holiness ;" not only of believing the doctrine, but 
 of adorning it ; of cultivating not only the essential ele- 
 ments of godliness, but " whatever is lovely and of good 
 rep ort ;" all which language implies that an example 
 may be made not only instructive by its faithfulness, but 
 persuasive by its loveliness. And herein did our brother 
 excel. Humility, gentleness, charity, and other kindred 
 graces threw a kind of halo around him, which was the 
 more noticeable, because along with the amiableness 
 aad modesty of his nature, we knew him to possess a 
 vigorous and disciplined understanding, that qualified 
 him to sit in the company of scholars and philosophers. 
 Mere gentleness, or any similar quality, unattended 
 with some features of mind or character that challenge 
 attention or respect, .carries but little weight; some- 
 times, we fear, barely escapes contempt ; but, in union 
 
19 
 
 with strong character and largo gifts, it can hardly fail 
 of producing a marked effect. In the instance before 
 us, a finely proportioned manhood, both of head and 
 heart, was sweetly set off by a purity of spiritual com- 
 plexion, — ^by a " beauty of holiness," that seemed like a 
 second nature : so much so, that I was not surprised at 
 the remai'k of a clerical brother, that he found himself 
 regarding our departed friend as having been always so 
 saintly and symmetrical in his Christian character, — as 
 having had no beginning iu such a character. Blessed 
 services will these be to-day, if they shall stimulate us 
 in the endeavor to reproduce and cherish that clmracter 
 among ourselves, — its charming combination of the solid 
 and the ornamental. George Herbert declares that the 
 Country Parson's Library is a holy life : there are not 
 many who possessed a library so perfect as his, whom 
 we now commemorate. And the satisfaction, with which 
 his library was everywhere read, is measurably ,-^may 
 I not say largely, — due to the fact that its volumes 
 were not only so truthful and instructive in their con- 
 tents, but so handsomely bound, and so tastefully ar- 
 ranged. 
 
 My Christian friends, — our dear brother's proficiency 
 in holiness was not an accident ; neither was it the re- 
 sult of a special decree in his favor,; but we may, I 
 think, safely regard it as the result, in a great part, of 
 sanctified trials and sufferings. For nearly a quarter of 
 a century, there was mixed in the cup of his experience, 
 a great deal of the bitter. There have been hours in 
 his life, when the burden of suffering was so heavy, that 
 nothing but the power of religious principle prevented 
 him, as he himself has told me, from seeking relief in a 
 self-made grave. All, indeed, are born to trouble, as 
 the sparks fly upward ; suffering being more universal 
 than sin : for God had one Son without sin, but never 
 one without suffering; and that sinless One, (mysterious 
 truth!) was "made perfect through suffering." And it 
 has seemed to us that our dear brother was so fruitful 
 
20 
 
 in faith, and patience, and love, because Lis vine had 
 "been so pruned and pm-ged. The ills and aches of a 
 constitution shattered beyond repair, felt for successive 
 years, was no light burden ; and then there was the 
 heavier one, that his physical infirmities interrupted so 
 much those pastoral functions, iti which his heart so 
 much delighted, and for which his well-stored mind so 
 amply fitted him. I never discovered in him any ambi- 
 tion for a large or conspicuous field of labor ; but to be 
 disabled from working anywhere, — from doing any- 
 thing, — that was a grief and a trial. We just now al- 
 luded to the fact that he undertook, eight years since, 
 to serve his Master in missionary labors abroad. His 
 missionary resolution was not the good impulse of a 
 moment : it had been secretly fermenting in liis mind for 
 years. It was the resolution not simply of a consdcfti- 
 tious man, but of a conscientious man, who thought and 
 prayed, before he resolved. In fact, he had previously 
 offered himself for oiu- China Mission, and would have 
 been gladly accepted, but for the con^'iction that his del- 
 icate health would soon be prostrated in such a climate 
 as that of China. No such danger was apprehended 
 from a residence in Turkey, and he went there with a 
 missionary's heart and hope. But he was not permitted 
 to accomplish, or even scarcely to attempt, anything, 
 while there. And his departure followed close upon 
 his arrival. I will not now linger over the depth of our 
 brother's disappointment. He encountered a dark Pro- 
 vidence, — to him, however, dark now no longer. It was 
 one of many Providences, in which he was being disci- 
 plined and trained up into the strength and stature of a 
 hero in Christ. And no man ever becomes such, until 
 he has suffered with Christ. It is a great thing to go 
 forth willingly and labor for Christ ; but it is greater, 
 to be still at one's post, and wait, while the heart is 
 longing to do sometliing, 
 
 -"Who best 
 
 Bear His mild j-oke, they serve him best." 
 
21 
 
 It is the passive virtues that test a soldier's fidelity ; 
 and they are learned in the school of adversity. In that 
 school, our departed brother was no stranger. It re- 
 minds us of what is to many a perplexing fact, that they, 
 who in human judgment, least need the discipline of a 
 rod or of a furnace, are made to experience it the most. 
 What a saintly man was he whom we have lost ; and yet 
 how much he suffered through all his ministry !* It is a 
 consolation that sorrow is the minister no less of mercy, 
 than of severity j that "the Church," as Leigliton writes, 
 " is God's work-house, where His jewels are polishing 
 for His palace ; and those whom He especially esteems, 
 and means to make most resplendent. He hath oftenest 
 His tools upon." Even a heathen philosopher could 
 rise up to a similar sentiment, — that the spectacle of a 
 brave man on earth, superior to his sufferings, was a 
 pleasure to Jupiter himself. And as I look back upon 
 the career of our departed felloAV-soldier, with that com- 
 plicated cross upon his shoulders, I am reminded that 
 adversity is the post of honor, — the privilege of choicer 
 spirits, — the patent of a spiritual nobility. And as he 
 looks back upon his earthly probation, can we doubt 
 that every recollection of tears and pangs, kindles a new 
 song of praise to Him, whom trials had made so pre- 
 cious. And I can almost imagine him as thinking it an 
 imperfection in his bliss, that he has no more opportuni- 
 ty to "suffer with Christ. "f But we rejoice for him, 
 that " after life's fitful fever, he sleeps " so " well." We 
 commemorate here, and now, the last and best of all his 
 birth-days. As we think of his cleansed and perfected 
 
 . * " Sometimes God sees it good for us, not to sip of the cup of affliction, 
 but to make a diet-drinlc of it, for constant and common use. If Ho allow 
 us no otlier liquor for many years, we must take it off cheerfully, and 
 know that it is but the measure of our betters. " — Bishop Hall, 
 
 t " Trnly, if it were possible to fear any defect of joy in heaven, all that 
 could fall into my fear, would be but this, that in heaven I can no longer 
 express my love by suffering for my God, for my Saviour. A greater joy 
 cannot enter into my heart than this, — to suffer for Him that suffered for 
 me." — Donne. 
 
 .8 
 
22 
 
 nature, let us reniember, for our own admonition, the 
 refining process tln'ough ivhicli it became what it is. 
 "Blessed is tlie man," and blessed is the minister that 
 " cndureth temptation ;" for when he is tried, and not 
 till then, "he shall receive the crown of life." 
 
 And that word "minister," Brethren, reminds us that 
 the loss, which has bowed so many hearts in grief, is not 
 simply the loss of a good man's prayers, and counsels, 
 and example ; we have lost the gifted and faithful am- 
 bassador of G-od to sinful man. We could not but 
 weep over such bereavement, even though others were 
 coming freely forward to fill up every chasm in the 
 ranks; but in comiection vnth the distressing fact, 
 (which has not, I am afraid, alarmed us as it should,) 
 that the number of candidates for Holy Orders has de- 
 creased among us, — our brother's removal creates a 
 deeper sadness. With what clearness and strength, he 
 could unfold and recommend the great truths of the 
 Gospel, — what a welcome his appearance in any of our 
 pulpits did ever meet, the most of you know full well. 
 And if some of those sermons which he addressed to 
 the public ear, shall ever find their way to the public 
 eye, others will see and confess that the voice which 
 has just now been hushed, was the voice of no ordinary 
 prophet. 
 
 As he loved to feed his own soul with the old, the 
 plain, the practical, in religion, so with the old, the 
 plain, the practical, he preferred to feed the souls of 
 others. He made them the staple of his preaching. 
 Redemption through the blood of the Cross, — its neces- 
 sity, — ^its freeness, — its glory, — its blessings, — its obli- 
 gations, — these were his favorite themes. He cultivated 
 that style of preaching, which " lays low the sinner, ex- 
 alts the Saviour, and promotes true holiness." The ter- 
 lible criticism of the late Dr. Mason on a sermon he 
 once heard, — that "it needed to be baptized in the 
 name of the Lord Jesus Christ, before it could be en- 
 .titled to the name of a Christian sermon," could never 
 
23 
 
 be levelled at tlie discourses of the Rev. Samuel Pexny. 
 All tliat lie uttered in his Master's name was baptized 
 before it reached his lips ; and although he could not 
 command the graces of the orator, he preached -n'ith a 
 sincerity, gentleness, and unction, which imparted a fla- 
 vor to all his ministrations, and for Avhich oratorical 
 graces would have been but a poor exchange. And 
 when we remember that everything which he proclaimed 
 with his mouth was illustrated and confirmed by the 
 nobler eloquence of his own consistent life, the extinc- 
 tion of such a light we cannot but deplore as a bitter 
 calamity; and yet we may not forget to be thankful that 
 such a light was permitted to shine so long, and to shine 
 here, in our Rhode Island Church ; that we have had foi' 
 years the blessing and comfort of its mild radiance ; and 
 that it is now extinguished only to be relighted, and 
 shine m greater sj^lendor. 
 
 We shall not dwell on the circumstances under which 
 our dear brother's spirit passed away from earth. It 
 would only agitate the mind ; the purpose of these so- 
 lemnities is rather to sootlie and to heal. He left his 
 home for an absence of a few hours only, and was cut 
 down, with scai'cely a moment's Avarning that dan- 
 ger was near, and, as we suppose, without a moment's 
 suffering. He suffered in life, but not in death ; and his 
 departure seemed not so much a death as a translation.* 
 He has been known to express the Avish that if it were 
 God's will, his entrance into eternity might not be sud- 
 den. And in one of the tAvo sermons Avhich he wrote, 
 but did not live to preach, he has these remarks on the 
 feelings of Daniel Avhen about to be tin-own into the 
 lion's den. " It could not but have someivhat shaken 
 his Jirmness to be called to face death iji so terrible u 
 form, — to be torn violently from existence, and so ab- 
 
 * "To pass from midnight to noon on the sudden; to l)c dccrcpid one 
 minute, and nil spirit and activity the next, must bo a desirable change. 
 To call this dying is an abuse of language." — Jeremy Collier. 
 
24 
 
 rupily summoned into the presence of his Judge. 
 Eternity is too solernn a thought; to approach it grad- 
 ually, with an opportunity for recollection, and the con- 
 firmation of our hope, is ordinarily enough for mortal 
 strength ; hut to pass thus rapidly from, the scenes and 
 responsibilities of life, to the ocaipations of the eternal 
 world, must detnand a more than usual supply of Di- 
 vine support and comfort.""^ 
 
 The Avishes of God's saints, touching the manner of 
 their departure, hare been sometimes fuliilled. Leigh- 
 ton desired that he might die at an inn, as being a fit- 
 ting place for a pilgrim's sleep. And his death did 
 take i:)lace at an inn. It was Bishop Jewell's wish that 
 his last summons might find him preaching the Word \ 
 and it was literally fulfilled. But our brother's prefer- 
 ence of a gradual, premonished struggle with the last 
 enemy, or what Hooker terms " a leisurable departure," 
 was denied him, and, no doubt, kindly and wisely, denied 
 him. To us who loved him, it would have been a privi- 
 lege, as he crossed the dark river, to hear from him the 
 words of Hopeful, " I feel the bottom, and it is good ;" 
 to be certified that the grace which had proved so all- 
 sufficient to the river's brink, was equally sufficient for 
 the passage across. The believer's parting testimony 
 is precious ; but precious for our sake, not his. Though 
 in the present instance, he, whose memory we now 
 honor, had borne such a living testimony to his Mas- 
 ter's name and faith, that our hope in his death could 
 not be a surer, or happier, thing than it is. His attach- 
 ment to things seen and temporal had been growing- 
 looser and looser. Only the day before the fatal one, 
 
 * " It is very hard for the best man, m a sndden extremity of deatli, to 
 satisfy himself in apprehending bis stay, and reposing his iicart upon it; 
 for the soul is so oppressed with snddeh terror, that it cannot well com- 
 mand itself, till it have digested an evil. It were miserable for the best 
 Christian, if all his former prayers and meditations did not serve to aid him 
 in his last straits, and meet together in the centre of his extremity, — yield- 
 ing, though not sensible relief, yet secret benefit to the soul; whereas, the 
 worldly man, in this case, having not laid up for this hour, hath no com- 
 fort from God, or from others, or from himself." — Bi'sAop jlall. 
 
25 
 
 he was heard to say, that he hardly had a wish to stay 
 on earth, except on account of others. And if it be 
 true, that " there is nothing so near immortality as to 
 die daily ;" that " continual mortification is immortali- 
 ty ;" then our dear brother began to be immortal before 
 he ceased to be mortal. Under such circumstances, of 
 what little consequence is the manner of his removal. 
 
 Not long before his removal, he read, or began to 
 read, the recent work of Maurice on " the Prophets and 
 Kings of the Old Testament." There is one passage in 
 it which he marked with his pencil, as having arrested 
 his attention. The fact of its being so marked, no less 
 than its own truthful eloquence, induces us to repeat it 
 here. 
 
 ""We must turn elsewhere than to the books of the 
 Old and New Testament for death-bed scenes. One 
 beautiful record of the first deacon of the> church, who 
 prayed for his countrymen, ' Lord ! lay not this sin to 
 their charge,' is all that we have of martyrology in the 
 Bible. Its warriors fight the good fight. We know 
 that in some battle or other, they finish their course. 
 Where, or how, — under what circumstances of humilia- 
 tion or triumph, we are not told. If it pleased God 
 that their lamp should shine out brightly at the last, 
 that was well, for He was glorified in their strength. 
 If it pleased Him that the light should go out in its 
 socket, that was well too, for He was glorified in their 
 weakness. And never be it forgotten, that at the death 
 which redeemed all other deaths, and made them blessed, 
 there was darkness over all the land until the ninth 
 hour, and that a cry came out of that darkness, 'My 
 God ! my God ! why hast thou forsaken me ?' " 
 
 Brethren, if we find ourselves sometimes wishing that 
 our brother's departure had been less sudden than it 
 was, let us remember that the shock occasioned by such 
 a death of such a man, may arouse to reflection, when a 
 thousand removals in the ordinary course of mortality 
 would not ; and that the distress of seeing such fine ca- 
 
2Q 
 
 pacities dismantled in the twinkling of an eye, and in 
 their very prime, is not so great as it would be, if we 
 had beheld them struck with utter imbecility. What a 
 spectacle must have been the sprightly genius of War- 
 burton, crawling, as it were, in idiocy. When 
 
 "From Marlboro's eyes the tears of dotage flow, 
 And Swift expii-es a driveller and a show," 
 
 arc we not made to feel that a living death is one of the 
 hardest trials of human affection ? And let us remem- 
 ber, too, that as the death of every saint is precious be- 
 fore God, such a death can never be, in truth, an acci- 
 dent ; that if he takes note of a sparrow's fall, He can- 
 not overlook the fall of a beloved child : and that He 
 can make man's recklessness, as well as wrath, to praise 
 Him. 
 
 There is still one other lesson which our brother's 
 sudden end was, -doubtless, intended to impress on all 
 our hearts, viz., that issues of eternal moment are some- 
 times suspended on what man would term trifles. If 
 that ill-fated train, in which death overtook our brother, 
 had had at its disposal only one more minute of time, 
 an awful calamity would have been avoided. But what 
 an"*/" jwas there ! For the lack of one minute, the 
 destinies of iifteen or more, accountable beings were 
 irreversibly settled for- an endless hereafter; and ahmi- 
 dred hearts, here and there, almost prostrated with an- 
 guish. And so it is everywhere. A man is walking on 
 a precipice; he steps only one inch too far to the right, 
 and in the twinkling of an eye, he is gone. A house is 
 in flames ; one man escapes ; another only steps back a 
 moment to seize some valuable papers, and before he 
 reaches the door, the roof has fallen and crushed him. 
 The trifle of ten seconds was a matter of life and death 
 to him. So it may be with some of you : a trifling de- 
 lay, a trifling excuse, a trifling neglect of duty may con- 
 tain the seeds of eternity. K death should overtake 
 you ten minutes before you are ready, the trifling differ- 
 
21 
 
 ence of ten minutes would shut forever youi' door of 
 hope ; and all the angels of heaven cannot open you an- 
 other ! Does not a voice come from our brother's grave, 
 bidding us all remember the uncertainties of life, and do 
 with our might whatever om' hands find to do, there be- 
 ing " no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom 
 in the grave ?" If he could speak to us himself, I think 
 he would remind some of us, that while " the last ene- 
 my" may advance upon us suddenly, we cannot expect 
 to prepare suddenly for the encounter. We cannot ex- 
 pect to collect the necessary armor, adjust it to our 
 limbs, and learn to use it successfully, in a passmg mo- 
 ment. Real preparation for death must be regarded as 
 the fruit of time, of penitence, and prayer, and disci- 
 pline ; not a thing to be dispatched by a sigh, and a tear, 
 and an ejaculation for mercy, when the breath is almost 
 gone. If our departed brother had delayed the business 
 of his preparation for eternity, (as such numbers are 
 now doing,) trusting to the chances of a sick chamber, 
 where would have been that joyful, triumphant hope, 
 with which we think of him to-day? Where would 
 have been his soul to-day ? As it is, he was ready, for 
 he had begun his preparation long before. And all 
 that preparation of his did not hasten his death at 
 all, — only sweetened it; and if you will imitate his 
 early and steadfast devotion ta the Lord Jesus, you 
 ■will die better, but not sooner, for it. And it was in 
 the hope of stirring us all up to such an imitation, that 
 the services of this morning originated. Meditating 
 on the good examples of brethren who have gone be- 
 fore, hath often proved the mother of new and noble 
 attainments in piety. If we will go up in imagination 
 oftener than we do, and converse with the faithful de- 
 parted, it will aid the supremacy of spirit over flesh ; — 
 the majesty of the future over the littleness of the pre- 
 sent. I cannot help thinking there is some truth in the 
 line, that "they who cease to think of saints, will soon 
 cease to live as saints." 
 
28 
 
 It has been remarked of the mariner, that, on a voy- 
 age, he pledges the health of "friends astern,^^ until 
 half way to his destination, and then, "friends ahead." 
 We are all of us, brethren, embarked on the voyage of 
 life ; and whether we have passed over more or less 
 than half of it, it becomes us to cherish the memory of 
 " friends ahead," who have " passed the waves of this 
 troublesome world," and now tread the immortal shores. 
 And who has not friends ahead ? Who counts not a 
 loved one in that cloud of witnesses above us ? Those 
 witnesses, now an innmnerable host, the Apostle repre- 
 sents as gazing down upon us, to see after what man- 
 ner we are discharging the hallowed offices they have 
 bequeathed to us. Let the thought of such spectators 
 overlooking us, urge us to fresh exertions in " the race 
 that is set before us." Beloved, they are waiting for 
 us. When the " great multitude " shall be gathered at 
 last, God forbid that any of us should be missing. Ti'ue, 
 if we are not there, our absence will not be felt : " the 
 loss will be ours ; but, ! what a loss !" 
 
 Help us, Lord ! " help Thy servants whom Thou 
 hast redeemed with Thy precious blood. Make them to 
 be numbered with Thy saints in glory everlasting." 
 
0i:rmcin 1. 
 
 THE LOVE OF CHRIST. 
 
 A MISSIONARY SERMON. 
 
 n Cob. v. 14. — For the love of Christ constrainetJi us. 
 
 The Apostle here assigns a reason for his activity in 
 the cause of his Master. In one brief line, he comprises 
 the whole philosophy of our religion, — a philosophy pro- 
 found, yet simple, challenging, by its conclusions, the as- 
 sent of our raiderstanding, and the sanction of our warm- 
 est affections. "With the simplicity of a child, — ^but a 
 child of Grod, — one who had been taught in the school 
 of Jesus Chkist, he points his readers to the Cross. 
 The sufferings of the Saviour must have been fresh in 
 the memories of those to whom he wrote. And as he 
 recalled to their minds that hour of bitter anguish, 
 when Christ endured His last agony, and gave His spot- 
 less soul a ransom for his and their own, could he fail 
 to find in their hearts at least, a sufficient vindication of 
 his devotedness and zeal ? How comprehensive and 
 omnipotent is the Apostle's argument ! Jesus died that 
 / might live ; all the blessings of this present life, and 
 
30 
 
 all my hopes of the future, are the purchase of Hi? 
 blood ; pronounce me fool, madman, or -what you will, 
 you cannot obliterate this solemn fact, — Jesiis died that 
 T might live. A child can understand this argument^ 
 and the wisest sage cannot suggest a better, for the love 
 which should burn in every Christian's bosom. 
 
 And what better or more inspiring topic can possibly 
 be presented than that supplied by the text, — the con- 
 straining love of Christ ? You may not, my hearers, 
 be in the same situation with St. Paul. You may not 
 be surrounded by enemies who are mocldng your exer- 
 tions ; you may be cheered by the voice of christian 
 friendship and sympathy. But does it follow that the 
 Apostle's argument has now become superfluous ? Be- 
 cause there is much around you to urge on yom* labor 
 of love, is it therefore unnecessary to speak to you of 
 the love of Jesus? Do your own hearts need no stim- 
 ulus to exertion? Is the cause which you have espous- 
 ed, appreciated in all its fulness and sacredness ? Is 
 the constraining love of Christ the ruling, ever-acting 
 spring of all that you undertake ? In fine, — may it not 
 be necessary for you to plead the cause of religion and 
 of a suffering Saviom-, to your own hearts, nntil every 
 emotion shall be quickened into love, and eveiy energy 
 enlisted in the cause of Christ ? 
 
 It is in the hope of contributing to such a result, that 
 we have chosen our present theme. 
 
 The text may be viewed in a two-fold aspect. By 
 "the love of Christ" we may understand, either His- 
 love to us, or our love to Him. We shall treat it in 
 both these aspects, but more particulai-ly with reference 
 to the former. 
 
31 
 
 And first, the Christian should be animated by a love 
 similar to that of the Saviour. What that love was, we 
 shall now proceed to inquire. 
 
 1. It was a love/o?- the soul. 
 
 In all that Clu-ist said or did, and in all that He suf- 
 fered, we behold Him aiming uniformly and steadily at 
 one great object, — the salvation of the soul. To the^ 
 accomplishment of that object, "we find him subordinating 
 every other consideration. The whole world, with its 
 mines of wealth, — its intoxicating pleasures, its sounding 
 titles, — was lighter than the small dust of the balance, 
 when weighed against the importance of one undying 
 soul. Follow the Saviour through His weary pilgrim- 
 age. See Him with His little band of devoted follow- 
 ers, traversing the plains of Palestine, houseless, — home- 
 less, — a stranger in the world which He came to re- 
 deem, — almost entirely cut off from human sympathy, — 
 by day, ceaselessly occupied in his works of mercy, and 
 at night, when every other head was pillowed in slum- 
 ber, pouring forth His fervent supplications to His 
 Father. Go with Him to the garden of Gethsemane : fol- 
 low Him on to the last scene of His matchless sufferings : 
 remember that all those sufferings were endured to save 
 the soul from death, and you can, in some degree, meas- 
 ure the love of Jesus for the soul. 0, it was a love 
 which engaged every thought. Though by no means re- 
 gardless of our interests in other respects, He suffered 
 nothing to interfere with the progress of His one great 
 design, until He could say, "It is finished!" 
 
 And such. Brethren, is the love that should animate 
 every follower of Jesus. There must be a positive love 
 for the souls of those aromad you : a love which will 
 
32 
 
 stimulate you to devote your energies and means to- 
 wards effecting their salvation. When you think that 
 "the soul is immortal, — that it is not only capable of; 
 but destined to, endless expansion and growth, — that 
 through the ages of eternity, it will be forever rising 
 higher and higher amid the glories of heaven, or sinking 
 deeper and deeper, in the unspeakable bereavements 
 and woes of hell," — when you remember that Christ 
 has so loved it, as to give His own life for its ransom, 
 and that all heaven is filled with joy, when one such soul 
 is added to its happy tlirong, — sau it be that you have 
 the spirit of Jesus, if the interests of the soul be not the 
 subject of your anxious thought and effort ? What a 
 blessed privilege is it to labor in such a work ! Think 
 of it, my hearer, until you have grasped it in all its 
 grandeur ! When we succeed in obtaining a measm'a- 
 ble apprehension of what is implied in the soul's salva- 
 tion, we are apt to shrink aside in conscious impotency, 
 and leave the work for the Almighty to accomplish. 
 But it is a thought which should awaken all our grati- 
 tude, that God has indeed committed this treasure to 
 earthern vessels, — not merely by appointing the Minis- 
 try of reconciliation, but by clothing every single believ- 
 er, however obscure or unnoticed, with the power of 
 saving souls from death. And if the members of the 
 church, in their individual, as well as associated, capaci- 
 ty, would remember that they may be the instruments 
 of awakening the joy of heaven over repenting sinners, 
 we should soon see her arising and shining, as with the 
 glory of the Lord, and sinners flocking to her enclosures 
 as doves to their windows. May we not say, that it is 
 because this conviction is so faintly realized, that the 
 
33 
 
 efforts of Christians are so few and feeble ? Suppose, 
 my hearer, that your vision, in respect of spiritual things, 
 were so invigorated and purified, that you could see, in 
 all its undisguised reality, the multitudes of the ungodly, 
 thi'onging their way to perdition. Suppose that you 
 knew that by any efforts of yours, you could snatch but 
 one of them as a brand from the burning, would you 
 give sleep to your eyes, till you had made that one a 
 monument of saving mercy ? And does it need any 
 such revelation as this to carry to your mind the con- 
 -\dction of its truth ? Is it not just as true, as if you 
 saio it ? Yes, believer, unimportant, and even worth- 
 less, as your exertions may, at times, seem to yourself 
 there is absolutely nothing that you may do in the name 
 and for the sake of Christ, and the souls for which He 
 died, that will not tell upon their everlasting destinies. 
 Ajid though you may not see the results of your labors 
 here, and may secretly weep over apparently unavailing 
 toil, yet, as God is true, you will see it, when Christ 
 shall be revealed in His glory. what a moment of 
 entrancing bliss ! as you stand in the presence of your 
 Redeemer, and are assured of your own salvation, to 
 have one and another of Christ's ransomed ones rising 
 up by your side, and calling you blessed ! Next to the 
 joy of your own salvation, will it not greatly add to the 
 bliss of heaven to mingle your triumphant sympathies 
 with the souls that have been saved by your means ? 
 Look forward, then, to such a moment as that. Gather 
 around you, by an energetic faith, the realities of the 
 eternal world. Calculate the worth of the soul ; think 
 of its priceless value. Think of it, until your love for 
 
34 
 
 the soul shall resemble in intensity the love of Christ, 
 and rouse you to a labor like His. 
 
 2. The love of Christ was an universal love. 
 
 He shed His blood that all who will repent and be- 
 lieve in Him might receive forgiveness of sins, and be 
 made partakers of Everlasting Life. His was a love 
 that extended its regards to every individual of the hu- 
 man family. He thought not merely of the bigoted and 
 self-righteous Jew, but of the ignorant and idolatrous 
 Gentile. He poured out His life, a sacrifice unto God, 
 that there might be " a way of access unto the Father " 
 for all who will come. The offer of salvation is conse- 
 quently made to all who have smils to be saved or lost. 
 None will be rejected of Christ, but those who reject 
 Him. Hence, the comprehensiveness of His original 
 commission to the Apostles, " Go ye into all the world, 
 and preach the Gospel to every creatui-e." A love sim- 
 ilar to that of the Saviour's animated their bosoms. 
 They went into " all the world," and proclaimed the glad 
 tidings of salvation to the prince upon his throne, — ^the 
 judge upon his tribunal, — the prisoner in his dungeon, 
 and the slave in his chains. The utmost bounds of the 
 world formed the only limits to their holy benevolence. 
 
 My Brethren, such love as this was never iutended to 
 be peculiarly apostolic. It is the type of every Chris- 
 tian's love. ITours must be as broad as the Saviour's ; 
 not partial, but universal. Whilst those immediately 
 around you are not to be neglected, cast a frequent eye 
 over the " waste howling wilderness " where Satan seems 
 to reign triumphant, — where the besotted victim of idola- 
 try seeks in vain to stiU the voice of conscience by the most 
 painful and cruel rites. Let your ear be open to the soul- 
 
35 
 
 subduing cry, " Come over and help us," which so often 
 issues from those "habitations of cruelty." And whilst 
 you press to your heart the Bible, and exult in its pro- 
 mises, forget not the benighted heathen, with souls as 
 precious as your own. Think of such an one, moaning 
 under a sense of guilt, but knowing nothing of the Re- 
 demption which is by Christ Jesus : — approaching the 
 grave and eternity, but with not one promise from the 
 Book of God to shed its light upon his path. 
 
 Now I know, as a general rule, that every Clu-istian 
 must have his own particular sphere of labor. And wo 
 are not to suffer one soul to perish at our door, be- 
 cause multitudes in other lands are destitute of the Gos- 
 pel. But because we cannot do everything, shall we do 
 nothing ? To refer, for example, to that which every 
 one may do, who is constrained by " the love of Christ," 
 — how often, my Christian hearer, do you remember the 
 heathen in your prayers 1 How often do you make 
 their condition the subject of your devout reflections ? 
 Do you long for the spread of the Gospel ? Do you 
 earnestly look forward to the period, when every idol 
 shall be thrown to the moles and to the bats, and God 
 alone shall be exalted in His holiness ? 
 
 But there is no one who cannot do more than this. 
 Surely, something can be saved from self-indulgence, and 
 thrown into the " treasury of the Lord." And He, who 
 condescendingly approved, and, no doubt, extensively 
 blessed, the widow's mite, will regard the offering, and 
 will guide it to the production of results, which eternity 
 alone may unfold, and which eternity alone can 
 measure. 
 
 3. The love of Christ was prompt and unsolicited. 
 
36 
 
 He waited not for the cry for mercy to issue from 
 our guilty I'ace. No interceding voice was heard amid 
 the hosts of heaven, entreating Him to appear for our 
 deliverance. When man was ruined, no created wis- 
 dom could suggest a plan of recovery. Nothing but 
 Eternal Love could prompt the thought of mercy. Had 
 the Saviour waited for our supplications, — ^had He hesi- 
 tated to stand " between the living and the dead," the 
 weight of God's just wrath must have pressed us into 
 eternal perdition. But no ! His love was imasked, — 
 unsolicited ; and though He had to redeem not simply 
 the wretched and the helpless, but those whose hearts 
 were at enmity with Him, yet that was no obstacle to 
 His compassion. His love overleapt everything, and 
 the Beloved of the Father, hastened as a conqueror to 
 the spoil, crying, " Spare ! for I will be their ransom !" 
 Herein is love, not that we loved Chbist, but that He 
 loved us. 0, Brethren, we should never forget that in 
 the work of our salvation, the Saviour made the first 
 advances. He liugered not until our case should be- 
 come less desperate, — om- hearts less indisposed to a 
 reconciliation with God, or until the difficulties to be 
 encoimtered, and the suiFerings to be endured, should 
 become less repulsive. But He counted the cost, and 
 flew to the rescue. 
 
 Here again, we have the pattern of the Christian's 
 love, — ^an example which should shame our coldness, 
 and rebuke om- taithless and reluctant efforts. If the 
 believer be constrained by such a love as impelled the 
 Saviour, he will not shrink from his efforts to reclaim 
 souls to God, by the difficulties which may stand in the 
 way.. Like the Saviom*, he will not wait till burdened 
 
37 
 
 souls come to Him with the cry, " What shall I do to 
 be saved ?" But the love of Him who came not only to 
 save, but also to seek, the lost, will lead the disciple to 
 watch for souls, as one who must give account. It is a 
 much pleasanter office, indeed, to point the inquiring 
 soul to the Saviour, than to tell the impenitent of the 
 worm that never dies. It is much pleasanter to keep 
 our station near the Cross, and welcome with the song 
 of triumph, each soul as it bows at the Saviour's feet. 
 And so, my hearer, might Christ have reposed forever 
 in the bosom of the Father. But He did not ; He en- 
 dured the Cross, and despised the shame, for the joy of 
 redeeming souls from death. Paul counted not his life 
 dear unto him, in comparison of the joy with which he 
 proclaimed the message of his Master. That is the spirit 
 which the Saviour will approve, and upon which God 
 will smile with His encouragements. It is through the 
 iustrumentality of Plis followers that the souls for whom 
 Christ died are to be made partakers of His grace. 
 But how shall the work be completed, unless we pos- 
 sess the spirit of our Master, — the spirit of enterprise, 
 — of unwaveriag faith, — of undaunted hope, — of ardent 
 love, — a spirit that is hindered by no trials, — that yields 
 to no discouragements, but looks over and beyond them 
 all, and sees only the mournful spectacle of souls perish- 
 ing for lack of spiritual knowledge. As to difficulties, 
 my hearers, God would have us lean more on Him. He 
 loves to be trusted, and has ever rewarded, and ever 
 will reward, abimdantly, those who honor Him, by placing 
 in Him their trust. And what servant of God will not 
 bear His testimony to the added strength and hope 
 which spring from a simple faith in the word and pro- 
 
 4* 
 
38 
 
 mise and assistance of God, and to the diminished en- 
 ergy which is ever the result of a reliance upon any- 
 thing beneath the might of His Spirit. Then let ap- 
 pearances be what they may ; — ^though discouragements 
 may gather thickly around every step of your path, let not 
 your zeal slacken, nor your love wax cold, nor youu efforts 
 know any abatement. Wait not, till some voice amid 
 Satan's strong-holds shall proclaim their willingness to 
 be saved : our effort should rather be to make them wil- 
 ling in the day of God's power. That would be Christ- 
 like. The Son of God left the bosom of the Father, 
 when all was dark and uninviting. He toiled amid in- 
 gratitude, and insidt, and died that He might save His 
 murderers ; and that is the spii-it by which His people 
 must be actuated, if they would triumph over the pow- 
 ers of darkness. 
 
 "We have thus far. Brethren, endeavored to show you 
 the spirit in which Christian benevolence should be ex- 
 erted. We have endeavored to place before you the 
 well-being of the soul, as the chief and ultimate object 
 of your regards. We have endeavored to show you, 
 also, from the example of the Redeemer, that Christian 
 love is as broad as the wants and the sufferings of hu- 
 manity. We have sought to show you too, by a refer- 
 ence to the same great standard of excellence, that 
 nothing is to check our emotions of benevolence, or 
 tempt us to remit our efforts, so long as the cry of spi- 
 ritual distress appeals to us for relief. We would now, 
 in conclusion, briefly lay before you the force of that 
 constraining motive, which, when felt in its full power, 
 will need the aid of no other logic in urging you to the 
 work : I mean your love for the Redeemer Himsdf. 
 
39 
 
 And here, Brethren, the subject comes home to your 
 own bosoms. We have hitherto talked to you of the 
 souls of others, — of their salvation, and their loss. We 
 ask you now to think for a moment of your own. We 
 have spoken of the bliss of heaven, and of the woes of hell : 
 but we have contemplated these solemn themes, in con- 
 nection with the multitudes about you, who are going 
 down to death. It would seem indeed, as if here were 
 enough, when realized by a vigorous faith, to keep alive 
 your energies, and spur you on to ceaseless labor. But 
 imposing as these motives are, there is one higher and 
 more imposing still. Jesus died, my hearer, to rescue 
 that soul of yours from eternal woe. If you can look 
 forward to Eternity, and indulge the blessed hope of 
 one day entering heaven, and attuning your harp to the 
 strains of redeeming, pardoning grace, remember that 
 this hope, so full of glory, has been purchased for you 
 by the Eedeemer's blood. Let love for Christ, in view 
 of what He has done for your own soul, once reign in 
 your bosom, and it will not destroy, but give power and 
 intensity to every other Christian motive. It will lead 
 you to redoubled diligence in striving for others' salva- 
 tion. I might, indeed, tell you of the greatness of the 
 enterprise, with which Christ has, in a measure, entrust- 
 ed each individual Christian. I might tell you of your 
 vast responsibilities. I might appeal to your Christian 
 sympathies, and point you to one and another of your 
 fellow-immortals, whom you might snatch from perdition, 
 and carry with you in yoiu: train to heaven. But I can 
 tell you of an inducement nobler still. There is One who 
 has loved them, and who still loves them infinitely more 
 than you can. There is One who has travailed in soul 
 
40 
 
 for tkem and for you, — ^who has poured the rich trea- 
 sures of His grace into your heart, that you might be 
 His steward in imparting it to others. He asks you, 
 for His sake, to be a co-worker with Him, that He may 
 see of the travail of His soul, and be satisfied. The 
 soul is sometimes weighed down with the magnitude of 
 the thought, that a worm of the dust should not only 
 himself be redeemed to the hopes of an endless life, but 
 that by his feeble efforts, he may add to the joys of his 
 Redeemer. By assuming our nature, the Saviour has 
 established so intimate a connection between Himself 
 and His creatures, that He and we can as really sym- 
 pathise together, — our joys and sorrows can be as really 
 reciprocal, as they can be, between any two of our sin- 
 ful race. Whenever it is your happiness then, to win a 
 soul from death, remember that you have not only fur- 
 nished a theme of rejoicing to the Angels of God, but 
 that He also whom Angels worship, shares in the tri- 
 umph. " Wherefore, my beloved brethren, be ye sted- 
 fast, unmoveable, always abounding in the work, foras- 
 much as ye know that your labor is not in vain in the 
 Lord." Cease not until you stand before the throne of 
 God, and are employed on errands of love and mercy, in 
 a higher and holier sphere of labor. 
 
0£rmon 2. 
 
 THE WISDOM FROM ABOVE. 
 
 S. James hi. 1 7. — " But the wisdom that is from above is first 
 pure, then peaceable, gentle, and easy to be entreated, full of mercy 
 and good fruits, without partiality, and without hypocrisy." 
 
 By the term " Wisclom," the Apostle evidently means 
 true religion. He contrasts it, in the context, with a 
 wisdom falsely so called : — thought to be such by those 
 only who pride themselves upon its possession, but which 
 betrays its real character by its results, viz., bitter en- 
 vyings and strife, — confusion and every evil work. Such 
 fruits as these, he assures us, cannot possibly have a 
 heavenly origin. It is a wisdom which is earthly, sen- 
 sual, devilish." "But the wisdom which is from, above 
 is iirst pure, then peaceable, gentle, easy to be entreat- 
 ed, full of mercy, and good fruits, without partiality, 
 and without hypocrisy." 
 
 In discoursing upon these words, we will endeavor, 
 First, to illustrate the propriety of the term by which 
 St. James characterizes Religion, and then notice its 
 heavenly origin, and its practical results. 
 
42 
 
 I. The sacred writers so often employ the term 
 Wisdom, in commending Religion to the regards of men, 
 that we are constrained to believe that He, who is in- 
 finitely wise, has led them to do it for distinct and spe- 
 cial reasons. There is, perhaps, no other single word, 
 by which a more effective appeal could be made to the 
 minds of a vast multitude of men. Pride of intellect 
 is the great obstacle to the triumphs of the Gospel. 
 The wisdom of the world stands arrayed against the 
 wisdom of God. The preaching of the Cross is fool- 
 ishness to myriads of those who choose rather to perish, 
 than yield to the terms of salvation. And such is the 
 corrupting influence of sin, that the minds of many will 
 be less disturbed by the conscious sense of guUt, and 
 the approaching terrors of the Judgment, than by the 
 fear of being called " fools," or having their character 
 for wisdom suspected. If, then, it can be shown that 
 religion can successfully make its appeals to the prac- 
 tical intelligence, — that " common sense " by which so 
 many are proud of being governed, we shall have sur- 
 mounted no slight barrier to its reception. 
 
 We remark, then, 1st, that Religion is true wisdom, 
 inasmuch as that alone will lead a man to calculate and 
 act with reference to the whole period of his existence. 
 
 That this world does not comprise the whole of om* 
 existence, — that the soul of man is immortal, and that 
 through the grave and gate of death we pass to an un- 
 changeable Eternity, are truths, which it is difl&cult for 
 the most hardened unbeliever to reject, and which none 
 can contemplate with indifference. Thousands, how- 
 ever, who firmly believe them, are living as though 
 Death were an eternal sleep, and the business, or the 
 
43 
 
 pleasures of the world, were all that was worthy of a 
 thought. But if man is to live forever, is it not Ahe part 
 of wisdom to plan for your immortality ? Is it not the 
 greatest folly to confine your attention within the little 
 circle of your earthly cares, when before you lies a 
 boundless existence ? 
 
 But again : — the soul not only feels instinctively her 
 immortality, but there is a monitor within which speaks 
 of a retribution beyond the grave ; and these instinctive 
 suggestions are most solemnly confirmed by the clear 
 announcements of the Word of God. Whether your 
 immortality will be one of endless woe, or of endless 
 joy, depends upon the manner in which you here pro- 
 vide for the soul's everlasting welfare. When results 
 of dreadful moment are at stake, does not such a fact 
 stamp with unspeakable folly the conduct of those who 
 are deliberately taking this world for their portion ? 
 A few more days, or months, or years, — and all upoii 
 which you are now bestowing so much anxious toil, will be 
 forgotten in the grave. When you die, all your hopes 
 will perish, for you have confined them to the earth, 
 from which yon shall have departed forever. Awake 
 then, my hearer, to a sense of yoiu- immortality ! Cast 
 your eye over the broad fields of Eternity. Accustom 
 yourself to think of that solemn word, imtil you shall 
 learn to live with reference to it, and wisely provide 
 for the whole of your endless existence. 
 
 2d. True wisdom sacrifices a present apparent good 
 for that which is future and greater. 
 
 This principle is well understood, and constantly 
 practiced, by worldly men. Go into any department of 
 life, and you will find it the governing rule of conduct 
 
u 
 
 with every thoughtful and energetic mind. The mer- 
 chant ov the mechanic, who aims at a fortune, will cal- 
 culate with jealous scrutiny the effect of a present in- 
 dulgence upon his plans and prospects for life ; and if 
 these come in conflict, mere worldly policy will teach 
 him the wisdom of sacrificing his pleasures for what he 
 considers to be his solid interests. how many sleep- 
 less nights, and days of toil and pain have been endured, 
 to secure for the evening of life, that wealth which must 
 perish in the using ! How many, in the pursuit of pow- 
 er, or of fame, have been insensible to the allurements 
 of present ease, that they may sway a sceptre for a few 
 brief years, or have their names greeted with applause 
 by dying mortals like themselves ! And yet, in the 
 judgment of the world, they would be acting wisely, for 
 they could not secure their ends without these sacrifices. 
 
 And now, my hearer, you have but to transfer this 
 principle of action to the concerns of the soul and eter- 
 nity, in order to perceive that the demands of Eeligion 
 are in accordance with the dictates of true wisdom. 
 She, too, calls for her sacrifices. The world and all its 
 interests, she esteems as the small dust in the balance, 
 when weighed against your everlasting salvation. She 
 calls upon you to make your choice of one, or the other, 
 — ^for both, you cannot have. Is it wise to let go, joys 
 that are everlasting, treasures that will never fail you, — 
 a crown of fadeless glory, and the approbation of your 
 God, for the toilsome, corrupting, deceitful, unsatisfying 
 pleasures which the God of this world offers you ? 
 
 3d. Eeligion vindicates its character for true wisdom, 
 by leadmg the finite creature to bring his will and pas- 
 sions into subjection to the Infinite. 
 
45 
 
 The sovereignty of God is a truth which must force 
 itself, without much reflection, upon every thoughtful 
 mind. That He doeth His will among the armies of 
 lieaven, and amidst the inliabitants of the earth, and 
 that all opposition to that Avill must iinally biing de- 
 struction upon the sinner, is equally clear. Now the 
 great controversy between God and man lies in this 
 conflict of wills. God has revealed His purposes, and 
 requires from man unqualified submission and obedience : 
 and man cannot persist in disobeying without bringing 
 hopeless ruin upon the soul. The result is as certain 
 as that God is omnipotent. What could bring the folly 
 of the sinner into bolder relief than this ? 1 am not 
 now speaking, my hearers, of your ingratitude, — your 
 insensibility to the touching appeals of a Saviour's love. 
 I would have you look merely at the folly, — the simple 
 madness of resisting the will of Him who is " wise in 
 heart, and mighty in strength. Who both hardened him- 
 self against Him, and prospered ?" is it not wise to 
 bend submissive to His will ? The fruits of your controvei- 
 sy thus far, have been disappointed hopes, — a saddened 
 heart, — and many fears for the future. But these, my 
 hearer, are but the footsteps of that dreadful doom so 
 certainly approaching, and which will be consummated 
 in bitter lamentation and despair. Be Avise, therefore, 
 in this, the day of your salvation. Remember that the 
 Power of God is equalled by His wisdom, His good- 
 ness, and His love, and that conformity to His will must 
 be to His creature the source of an abounding peace. 
 
 Once more : — A wise man will ever adopt sucli a 
 course of conduct as will bear reflection. 
 s 
 
46 
 
 Reflection may be said to bear the same relation to 
 the life of man, that the harvest does to the toil of the 
 husbandman. It is in our hours of reflection that we 
 gather in the fruits of all that we have said, or thought, 
 or done ; and this harvest will be one of intense satis- 
 faction and peace, or of unutterable misery, — of regi'ets 
 that will pierce the soul like barbed and poisoned ar- 
 rows. Who has not felt their force, in some degTee, in 
 the minor coaicerns of life, when in the stillness of some 
 twilight hour, your mind has travelled back over the 
 past, and bitter memories begin to people the solitude' 
 of your chamber. Neglected duties, — opportunities slip- 
 ped from your grasp forever, — thoughtless indiscretions, 
 — passionate indulgences, and, it may be, some dark 
 and secret sins, come rushing in upon the soul, a troop 
 of relentless foes. Such moments have been experi- 
 enced by many, if not by all, who hear me. Some, un- 
 able to bear such thoughts, have fled with haste into the 
 busy scenes of life, there to re-enact their deeds of folly, 
 and lose the sense of guilt, amidst the mirth of compan- 
 ions, or the whirl of occupation. Others have gathered 
 lessons of wisdom, and .though smarting under the 
 scourge of self-reproach, have gone forth in the strength 
 of new resolutions, so to live for the futm-e, that thought 
 and reflection shall be welcome companions. My thought- 
 less hearer ! you cannot bear one short hom^ of reflec- 
 tion now : how then will you bear it upon a dying bed, 
 and throughout the long, long years of Eternity ? You 
 have now the world and its follies in which to take re- 
 fuge from your thoughts ; but then, the world and its 
 follies will smile at your calamity. Listen, then to the 
 words of eternal wisdom. " If thou hast rim with the 
 
47 
 
 footmen, and tliey have Avearicd thee, bow canst thou 
 contend with horses ? and if in the land of peace where- 
 in thou tnistedst they wearied thee, then how wilt thou 
 do in the swellings of Jordan ?" 
 
 II. We proceed to notice as our next topic, the 
 origin of this Wisdom. 
 
 It is from above. The lessons of the world are all 
 of a different character. The world has no schools in 
 which such wisdom as this is taught. Hei^ instructions 
 are all confined to the life that now is : she tells us 
 nothing of the undying spu'it, or of the way in v/hich we 
 may secure an interest in the life to come. If we would 
 discover the origin of this wisdom, we must look beyond 
 the world and her instructions; and the soul which 
 thirsts for it, must apply to " the Father of lights, from 
 whom Cometh every good and perfect gift." True Re- 
 ligion, in all its parts, is a scheme of mercy, devised in 
 heaven, for the salvation of man. God so loved the 
 world as to give His only Son, to shed His blood for 
 the soul's redemption. Jesus, the Beloved of the Fa- 
 ther, has offered Himself a willing sacrifice in our be- 
 half The Holy Spirit imparts His sacred influences to 
 the feeble, the ignorant, and the sinful. God has plant- 
 ed in our midst His Church with her holy ordinances, to 
 impart the instructions of His Word, — and to be the 
 nursery of the soul, the School of Christ, in which we 
 are to be trained up in Divine wisdom and grace, till 
 fitted for the Church triumphant. 
 
 Perhaps, my hearer, the claims of this Heavenly Wis- 
 dom have, at seasons, impressed themselves upon your 
 conscience. Perhaps you have made some efforts to ob- 
 tain this blessed treasm'e, but in each effort have felt 
 
48 
 
 your weakness, and have fallen back. May not the se- 
 cret of your failui-e lie in the fact, that you strove in 
 your own strength? that you did not look above, in 
 prayerful dependence, to the Source of all good ? The 
 power of God's Holy Spirit can alone translate you 
 from the kingdom of Satan into that of His dear Son. 
 Let your earnest supplications ascend to the Lord of all 
 power and might ; let your dependence be upon His 
 Spirit, and gird yourself with His strength. Take the 
 Lord Jesus for your Righteousness, your Sanctification, 
 your complete Redemption. Confess Him before the 
 world, and find in the ordinances of His own appoint- 
 ment, that nourishment, and strength, and victory, which 
 Christ vouchsafes to the feeblest of His faithful disciples. 
 
 ni. Let us now attend to some of the blessed fruits 
 of this Heavenly Wisdom. 
 
 And First, The Wisdom from above is "pure." K 
 you are guided by its teachings, it will lead you to 
 cleanse yourself from all impurity in heart and life. 
 Not only will the practice of sin be avoided, but the 
 very thought of it will be abhorrent to yom- feelings and 
 your tastes. The sins of others will be viewed with 
 pity, or with disgust, and not, as is too often the case, 
 with the smile of levity, or as the theme of frivolous 
 conversation. You will be moved to live as in the pre- 
 sence of Him, who looks upon every secret motion of 
 the heart, — who is Himself of spotless purity, and re- 
 quireth truth in the inward parts. This attribute of 
 Heavenly Wisdom is, with great propriety, placed at 
 the head of the catalogue ; for genuine religion begins 
 in deep and humbling convictions of sin, — of personal 
 unfitness for the presence of a holy God. And the 
 
49 
 
 business of the Chi'istian's life is to make daily and 
 hom-ly application to that Fountain ivhich has been 
 opened for sin and uncleanness, — to the cleansing ener- 
 gies of the Spirit of purity and gTace, for tliat holiness, 
 without which no man shall sec the Lord. "Blessed 
 are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." 
 
 True wisdom is peaceable. The disciple of Christ 
 will ever cultivate in his own bosom a quiet and peace- 
 able disposition, and will be the advocate for peace, 
 whenever his influence can be felt. Personal advan- 
 tages and desires, — ^prejudices and tastes, — everything, 
 indeed, but truth and principle, — should be sacrificed at 
 the shrine of Peace. Then, my hearer, and then only, 
 will the way be opened for the Peace of God, which 
 passeth all understanding, to find a lodgment in your 
 heart. Then too, and then only, will you be qualified 
 to act as a peace-maker in the strifes of others, and be 
 an honored ageiit in establishing the kingdom of peace 
 and righteousness in the earth. " Blessed are the peace- 
 makers, for they shall be called the children of God." 
 
 True wisdom will induce a spirit of gentleness. All 
 harshness and violence of feeling, or of manner, are ut- 
 terly opposed to the Spirit of Christ. " Who is a wise 
 man, and endued with knowledge among you ? let him 
 show out of a good conversation his works, with meek- 
 ness of wisdom." With what exemplary meekness did 
 the Son of God bear the scorn of His enemies : with 
 what gentle dignity did He utter the words of truth 
 and warning! Be persuaded "by the meekness and 
 gentleness of Christ," to manifest the spirit of your 
 Master, that the world may take knowledge of you that 
 you have been with Him. 
 
 6* 
 
50 
 
 True wisdom will make its possessor "easy to be en- 
 treated." The true Christian will not suffer his feelings 
 so far to gain the ascendancy over his judgment, as to 
 render him deaf to the language of reconciliation. To 
 all that is right, — to all that is kind, — ^to all that is ac- 
 commodating, or that will impart happiness to another, 
 the disciple of Christ will ever be easily entreated. 
 He will yield, not with sullen reluctance, not in that 
 spii'it which robs the concession of all its grace and 
 value, but with the ease of one who requires the very 
 gentlest of all violence to bend him to a brother's will. 
 
 The wisdom from above is "full of mercy and good 
 fmitsy It will open the heart to sentiments of tender- 
 ness. — of kindness, and compassion for the privations, 
 and the sujGferings, which are endured by the children of 
 want and sorrow ; and it will m'ge its possessor into 
 paths of active benevolence. what a sphere of use- 
 fulness is here opened to the very humblest disciple of 
 the Saviour ! How many hearts are pining in secret 
 grief, which might be made to rejoice, if sought out by 
 the diligent and active mercies of the Christian ! Of 
 such feelings, and deeds of mercy, the text informs us, 
 the Cliristian's heart will be full. Like Him who went 
 about doing good, it will be his meat and drink to min- 
 ister to those who are in any trouble : and, above all, 
 to tell them of the love of One, who, for their sakes, 
 became poor, that they, through His poverty, might be 
 rich. And all this, the possessor of Heavenly Wisdom 
 will do, " without partiality." He will regard the soul 
 of one with as much interest as that of another. He 
 will regard them all, simply as the creatui-es of God, as 
 the children of a common Father, bound to the same 
 
51 
 
 Eternity, — to the same judgment-seat. In the cultiva- 
 tion of Clu'istian feeling, and in the performance of 
 Christian duty, he knows not the earthly distinctions, 
 "which separate men from each other. He is to be mer- 
 ciful after the example of Him, who sendeth His rain 
 upon the just, and upon the unjust. 
 
 And now we come to that feature in the Christian 
 character, which should excite in us all great searchings 
 of heart. "Without hypocrisy," is added last by St. 
 James, as the seal of excellence, — without which our 
 works, and oxxr pretensions will be consumed together 
 in the fires of the last day. of what unutterable mo- 
 ment is it, that every Christian feeling, and every Chris- 
 tian act, should be ordered, as in the sight of Him, who 
 will call every work into judgment ; — that we should do 
 nothing to be seen of men : — that neither the praise nor 
 the censure of a fellow-worm should lead us into that 
 sin, the most hateful of all others, in the sight of Hea- 
 ven, the sin of hypocrisy. The specious conduct of 
 many, which seems fair in the eyes of men, will be seen 
 to be a hideous deformity, when Grod shall make known 
 the secrets of the heart. " As the fire devoureth the 
 stubble, and the flame consumeth the chafl', so the root 
 of the hypocrite shall be as rottenness, and his blossom 
 shall go up as dust." Beware, lest the want of a "god- 
 ly sincerity," be the consuming worm at the root of all 
 your seeming goodness ! Try yourselves, with a fear- 
 less honesty, by these inspired tests of Christian char- 
 acter. " Judge ye yourselves, that ye be not judged of 
 the Lord." And may His grace, who alone can keep 
 you from falling, make you, " blameless and harmless, 
 the sons of God, without rebuke, — sincere and without 
 
52 
 
 offence till the day of Christ, — being filled with the 
 fruits of righteousness, which are by Jesus Christ unto 
 the glory and praise of God.'' 
 
0ermon 3. 
 
 GROWTH IN GRACE. 
 II Peter hi. 18.' — " But grow in Grace." 
 
 Next to the sinner's conversion, the eye of God rests 
 with a watchful interest upon the progress of His pro- 
 fessed followers. The Bible abounds with exhortations 
 and warnings to the believer, as well as to the unbe- 
 liever. The text is one of those exhortations. It is in 
 agreement with all the teachings of Christ, represent- 
 ing the Chi'istian's life as one of progressive holiness. 
 His lang-uage in the parable of " the Mustard seed," and 
 in that of " the Leaven," plainly implies that the con- 
 version of the soul to God, by no means comprises the 
 whole of that vast design which God has unfolded in 
 the Gospel, — that there is still an important work to be 
 accomplished, viz., the sanctification of the soul. It is 
 to be feared that this part of God's gracious design is, 
 in practice at least, sadly disregarded. Many who have 
 tm-ned their faces towards Zion, travel but feebly and 
 
54 
 
 slowly in the path which leads to it. Instead of press- 
 ing toward the mark for the prize of their high calling, 
 there is many a lingeiing look at the world which they 
 have professed to renounce. The disciple of the Lord 
 Jesus is too often satisfied with just religion enough to 
 save his soul. The lineaments of the Saviom-'s image 
 are faint ; the iiame of devotion burns fitfully and dimly. 
 These things ought not so to be. Every day that we 
 live in this world of sin, should witness om- growing 
 conformity to the likeness of Christ. 
 
 Let me now ask your attention to some of the Evi- 
 dences of Growth in grace,, and to some of the Motives, 
 that should m'ge us to seek that growth. 
 
 I. The first evidence which I would mention of the 
 believer's growth in grace is, that his pious emotions, 
 and engagedness in the duties of religion, are uniform 
 and habitual, rather than occasional. 
 
 That God is unchangeable, must be allowed by all 
 who form correct notions of a perfect being. That no 
 lapse of time, or change of circumstances can possibly 
 efiFect an alteration in His designs, or mitigate the de- 
 mands of His law, must necessarily follow. He is the 
 same yesterday, to-day, and forever : and consequently 
 His relations to His creatures are always the same. If 
 at any time, we are bound to love God with all the 
 heart, we are bound to do so at all times. Jehovah is 
 never wearied in the exercise of His attributes, but is 
 constantly manifesting around us and towards us, the 
 evidences of His power, goodness, and love. Every mo- 
 ment, we are protected by His Providence ; — every mo- 
 ment, we are the pensioners of His bounty, and debtors 
 to His free grace in Christ Jesus. What then can be 
 
55 
 
 plainer than our duty ? If the power of God is con- 
 stantly exerted in sustaining our trembling existence, 
 surely our gratitude should be as constant. If His love 
 is ever occupied in planning for our comfort, and in an- 
 ticipating, and supplying, our unnumbered wants, surely 
 every breath should be praise, and every act, an effort 
 to promote His glory. Such is the rule which reason 
 prescribes : — such is the standard which the Gospel holds 
 up for our guidance. We are not at liberty to lower it. 
 
 Take now, Brethren, these righteous requisitions of 
 your Saviour, and m.ake them the test of your charac- 
 ters. The question is not, whether you have already 
 attained to this state of unwavering love to God, but 
 whether )-ou have made any considerable progress to- 
 wards it, and arc still pressing on : and whether your 
 love and engagedness are becoming more and niore, the 
 daily and settled habits of your inner man. Allow me 
 to inquire whether the character of your personal reli- 
 gion is not dependent, far too much on outward circum- 
 stances ? If all is prosperous around you, — if health in- 
 vigorates your body, if your character stands fair in the 
 eyes of men, how little you think of Him, " who left His 
 throne of glory, for this world of sin, — endm-ed every 
 privation in life, and suffered a death of untold agony, 
 that you might enjoy the blessings of the life that now 
 is, and the hopes of that which is to come ! But when 
 God, in His Providence, strips you of these blessings, — 
 frustrates your cherished plans, or lays you on a bed of 
 suffering, you then begin to reflect more on the empti- 
 ness of the world, and on the necessity and blessedness 
 of having God for your portion. This, I cannot doubt, 
 is the exT)erience of many a professed disciple of Christ. 
 
56 
 
 And in every such case, the conclusion is ii-resistible, 
 that his growth in grace has been making but poor ad- 
 vances. 
 
 In deprecating this uncertain, fluctuating state of re- 
 ligious feeling, I do not forget that the Chi'istian is sur- 
 rounded with difficulties, — that his infirmities are many, 
 — that his temptations, and spiritual foes, form mighty 
 Ijarriers in the way of a matiu-ed and stable religious 
 character. But let us remember that difficulties are not 
 impossibilities, — that however great may be the obsta- 
 cles in oiu* way, God has pledged us His own Omnipo- 
 tence, to bring us oif more than conquerors. Does it 
 seem, then, too rigid a rule, when we say that the Clu'is- 
 tian should, at all times, and under all circumstances, 
 feel the constraining influence of a Savioiur's love ? Is 
 it asking too much that the warmth of his affection 
 should partake more of the constancy of God's love to 
 us, instead of being dependent for its activity, and al- 
 most for its being, on the vicissitudes of life ? Xo, 
 Brethren : — elevated as the standard may be, it is no 
 higher than God has placed it. The achievement, though 
 difficult, is practicable. He, who said to His once faint- 
 ing Apostle, ' yiy gi'ace is sufficient for thee," is ready 
 to impart His strength to our weakness. Too many 
 solace themselves with the mistaken thought that the 
 condition of the believer in this world, must, as a mat- 
 ter of com-se, ever be of a chequered character ; and 
 the consequence is that their devotion dies, — every 
 spring of action becomes loosened, and God is dishon- 
 ored. Believer ! your course shoidd be ever onward : 
 you camiot aim too high. Press on, until you shall see 
 a God to love and adore, whatever may be the state of 
 
57 
 
 things around you. He is ever tlie same, — equally wor- 
 thy of your love, both in prosperity and adversity, — in 
 health and in sickness. You may find here one test of 
 your growth in grace. 
 
 2. A second evidence of the believer's growth, is, 
 that his duties become his privileges. 
 
 " Love," says the Apostle, is " the fulfilling of the law ;" 
 the meaning of which is not, that the bare emotion of 
 love is a substitute for practical obedience, but thstt in 
 the mind of the believer, the great stimulus to obedience 
 is love. Here is the great mark of distinction between 
 the man who has been renewed after the image of God 
 and the man, who is still in the ignorance of ,the natu- 
 ral mind. The foymer is enabled to say with David, 
 Lord ! " how I love Thy Law ;" and his obedience 
 will be nothing more than the following out of the ten- 
 dencies and instincts of a new nature. The latter es- 
 teems the commandments of God to be grievous : he 
 either shrinks from them altogether, or attempts to 
 lower their claims : if he obeys at all, it is not because 
 the simple act of obedience gives him pleasure, but be- 
 cause he hopes to secm-e salvation as his reward. 
 
 But all the impulses of a new nature are compara- 
 tively weak ; they partake of all the characteristics of 
 infancy, and need the nurturing hand of God, to give 
 them theii- full effectiveness. The remains of a corrupt 
 natiu-e, too, will struggle hard for a lost ascendancy ; 
 so that though the new-born soul may see, as she never 
 saw before, that a good and a holy God is worthy of 
 her highest love, — though she may glow with the ardor 
 of a new affection, and imagine that she shall never tire 
 in the service of so good a Master, she soon learns from 
 
'58 
 
 experience her feebleness. Then comes the crisis. Here 
 is the believer's danger. It is then that he should listen 
 to the admonition of the Apostle, " Grow in grace." 
 Seek by all the means which God has furnished, to 
 strengthen these first principles of your spiritual being ; 
 and when you find obedience beginning to be a burden, 
 — when you are disposed to excuse yourself from active 
 engagedness in the cause of Christ, do n'ot deceive 
 yourself with the unworthy notion that such must neces- 
 sarily and always be the imperfect developements of 
 the Christian character. Rather than yield to the ris^ 
 ings of corruption, go and carry your case before the mer- 
 cy-seat of your God : tell Him of your weakness, — ^how 
 much you need the support of His grace. Pray without 
 ceasing, that you may have such views of His glory,— 
 such impressions of His love, that so far from loitering, 
 and doing His behests reluctantly, you may run in the 
 way of His commandments. 0, that a child of God 
 should ever think it a hardship to do anything for Him. 
 Is it not rather unspeakable condescension in Him to 
 permit a worm of the dust to be an instrument in the 
 accomplishment of His beneficent designs. Think of 
 the high honor to which He has exalted you ; think of 
 the price with which your privilege has been pm-chased. 
 Think of it, and pray over it, until you shall esteem His 
 service to be perfect freedom. Meditate upon your re- 
 lations to God as a most undeserving, yet redeemed, 
 sinner, — ^redeemed by the blood of a suffering Saviour, 
 until the best you can do, shall seem indeed but too 
 little for such a Lord. It is a thought, extensively har- 
 bored, that eminence in the Christian life is the privi- 
 lege of a few. Satan has used this weapon with sue- 
 
59 
 
 cess, and has shorn thousands of their strength. The 
 holiness of the Bible is for all. It is to every believer 
 that St. Peter speaks in the language of our text. 
 " Grow in grace," until the holy law of a holy God shall 
 be inscribed in characters of love upon your hearts ; — 
 until you feel it to be not only your duty, but your hap- 
 piness, — your privilege, to do the ■will, and promote the 
 glory, of God. 
 
 3. A third evidence of the Christian's growth in grace, 
 may be found in the manner in which he meets and uses 
 the trials of life. 
 
 This world is the theatre of our probation. The soul 
 is here to be disciplined and fitted for another world. 
 This is God's great design ia all His dealings with the 
 Christian. The dispensations of His Providence are all 
 intended for the everlasting spiritual good, of those who 
 love Him. Now as God desires the holiness of His 
 people, so it must be His will, that they also should 
 make it the great end of their being. Every aim, and 
 wish, and hope of the believer should terminate in this, 
 — his soul's sanctification. 
 
 Now what is it. Brethren, that constitutes a trial ? 
 Is it not something iu the providential arrangements of 
 God, which defeats our designs, — plucks from our grasp 
 some fondly cherished idol, something around which we 
 had suffered the strong affections of the soul to gather, 
 and which we find it painful to relinquish ? And yet 
 God has done it, — He, who does not willingly aiBict, — 
 who is more anxious than we are that our present and 
 everlasting happiness should be secured. Why is it 
 then that we complain ? Why is it, that any of the dis- 
 pensations of God should excite a murmur ? To this. 
 
60 
 
 there can be but one reply : — our aims, our designs, our 
 wishes, are not in full accordance with the designs, and 
 the wishes of God. He never would frustrate his own 
 plans : and if ours were formed with an unwavering re- 
 ference to His, we should never be disappointed. This, 
 Brethren, will be the happiness of heaven. The fact 
 that there will be no trials there, may be resolved sim- 
 ply into this, that there, our wills will be entirely and 
 sweetly subjected to His own. The life of the believer 
 here should be a type of his approaching eternity. If 
 there, to be with, and to be like, his God, will be the 
 fulness of his bliss, so should it be his great business, — 
 his chief happiness here, to increase in holiness, and in 
 preparedness for the presence of his God. In propor- 
 tion as this is the case with the Christian, will the mul- 
 tiplied changes around him be regarded almost with in- 
 difference. Eiches may take to themselves wings, and 
 fly away, but he is little concerned, so long as the in- 
 terests of his never-dying soul are untouched. Disease 
 and death may claim him as their victim, and the grave 
 may close over his lifeless corpse, — ^but the immortal spirit 
 still lives, and thrives, and is happy. Is it not evident, 
 then, that if the interests of our souls are our chief con- 
 cern, — ^if we seek first the kingdom of God and His 
 righteousness, our condition, in other respects, will be 
 to us a matter of but little moment. What formerly 
 constituted our trials, will affect us less and less. The 
 world and its countless changes will disturb us less and 
 less ; for our hearts and our treasures, will be indepen- 
 dent of the world. Here then, we have another safe 
 test of our growth in grace. Have the trials of life less 
 power than formerly to rob us of our peace ? Can we 
 
61 
 
 more easily rise up under the pressui-e of affliction, and 
 rejoice that, whatever else may be taken from us, we 
 have the everlasting God for our sufficient, and more 
 than sufficient, portion ? Amid all the bereavements of 
 life, can we say with David, " As for me, I shall behold 
 Thy face in righteousness ; — I shall be satisfied when I 
 awake up in Thy likeness." 
 
 But, Brethren, — Resignation to the will of God, 
 though undoubtedly a great grace, and much to be cov- 
 eted, is not, after all, the height at which we are to aim. 
 It partakes too much of a negative character, — too much 
 of the mere absence of complaint and rebellion, to be 
 ranked among the chief excellencies of the Christian 
 character. To lie merely submissive to the will of God, 
 when that will contradicts our own, savors yet of weak- 
 ness and immaturity. There is a growth which ad- 
 vances beyond this. It is possible for the Christian to 
 be so intent upon his spiritual improvement, as to re- 
 joice in tribulation, and gladly to kiss the rod that 
 smites him. We do not mean that religion requires us 
 to take pleasure in affliction, for affliction's sake. St. 
 Paul teaches us a more sober philosophy. " No chasten- 
 ing for the present," he says, " seemeth to be joyous, but 
 grievous." But, for the sake of the great and glorious 
 end in view, viz. our sanctification, we may welcome 
 even those dispensations, which to the world, seem so 
 undesirable. Eeligion is the true philosopher's stone ; 
 it turns all that it touches, into goM. Everything, — 
 even the darkest scenes of life, will thus be made sub- 
 servient to our happiness. Afflictions do not spring 
 from the dust. They are as much the work of God as 
 our obvious blessings. They form but part and parcel 
 
 6* 
 
62 
 
 of the great system of means, wliicli a wise God has 
 iidopted, to make us the partakers of his holiness. It 
 only requires that we should co-operate, with God, with 
 the whote heart, and then, instead of lying passive under 
 the ills of life, we should grapple with them, in the 
 strength of a holy energy, and make them ministers of 
 ;.;ood, — most effective means of our spiritual advance- 
 jnent. Thus, Brethren, we shall be made more than 
 conquerors : with the Apostle, we shall glory in tribula- 
 tions also. When we are able to rejoiee that we are 
 counted worthy to suffer for Christ's sake ; — ^when we 
 can say, " Unto us it is given, not only to believe on Him, 
 but to suffer for Him," then shall we indeed have an evi- 
 dence that we have not received the gi'ace of God in vain. 
 
 Such are a few of the evidences of growth in grace. 
 "We have purposely placed the standard high; but in 
 doing so, we have studiously taken the Word of God 
 for our guide. 
 
 The standard has been placed high, because in any 
 arduous imdertaking, there is a propensity of our nature, 
 unless the aim be lofty, to rest satisfied with partial 
 attainments. In the work of his salvation, how lofty 
 are the aspii'ations of the believer ! to be the compan- 
 ion of angels and arch angels, to stand with them around 
 the throne of God, and as the years of eternity roll on, to 
 gaze upon the unveiled majesty of the Godhead, until he 
 shall be changed into the same image, from glory to 
 glory ! how worthy to engage every faculty of the 
 soul, — every affection of the heart ! 
 
 II. This leads to the second bi-anch of our subject, 
 viz. the Motives that should urge you to the performance 
 of the duty before us. 
 
63 
 
 And 1. I would remark, that if you are not going 
 forward in the Christian life, you will certainly be going 
 backward. If you are not daily accumulating your 
 treasure in heaven, you will be daily ■suffering a loss. 
 This is obvious from the very nature of the human mind. 
 Its faculties are always in operation : our thoughts are 
 ever restless, — ever occupied upon something ; and if 
 they be not occupied with things that are holy, lovely, 
 and of good report, they will be with their oppo- 
 sites. And so with our affections ; they will follow in 
 the train of our thoughts. The affections, too, are rest- 
 less. We must have something to love, and something, 
 that we may love with the whole heart. Since, then, 
 the faculties of the soul are ever on the alert, — if they 
 are not exercised for God, they will be against Him. 
 He that is not with Me, says the Saviour, is against 
 Me : and he that gathereth not with Me, scattereth 
 abroad. There is no such thing as standing still. And 
 when the soul, having once covenanted with GOD, begins 
 to draw back, how fearful is the liability of its draw- 
 ing back unto perdition. All the motives and arguments 
 that the goodness and wisdom of God could devise, 
 were exhausted in inducing you to flee from the wrath 
 to come. Heaven has in store no stronger reasons for 
 your steadfastness than those which first won your heart 
 to the Eedeemer. " There is no deeper hell with which 
 to alarm your fears, — ^there is no heaven of greater bliss, 
 with which to cheer your hopes, — ^there is no other Sa- 
 viour of more tender compassion," to stand ia the way 
 of the backslider, and arrest him in his path to destruc- 
 tion. Be entreated, then, by the bright hopes which 
 once cheered you, and by former joys now departed, to 
 
64 
 
 strengthen the things which remain, and return to your 
 first love I 
 
 And finally, I would urge the duty in question, by "a 
 regard for youi' own happiness. A professing Christian, 
 whose heart is not whole with God, — ^who does not 
 make £is religion the busiaess of his life, cannot be truly 
 happy ; and in order to grow in grace, it is indispensably 
 necessary that the whole heart and soul should be de- 
 voted to the work. If not thus devoted, we shall not 
 only fail to make advances in the Divine life, but find 
 ourselves placed just in that position which will render 
 us most miserable. Where will you find a man more 
 wretched than he, whose heart is after his idols, and 
 whose conscience is goading him with unfaithfulness to 
 his God? The recollection of religious joys will 
 cleave to the soul, and go with her into the haunts of 
 gaiety and pleasure, and embitter all her comfort. Go 
 where she will, peace, — calm, settled peace, — wiU be a 
 stranger. then break away from this unworthy bond- 
 age, and come forth into the liberty of Christ. Give 
 your heart more entirely to the Saviour. Let the brief 
 remnant of your life be His. Live near to the mercy- 
 seat of your God. Daily sit at the feet of Jesus, and 
 learn of Him. Thus will you go from strength to 
 strength, till the God of all grace shall admit you to the 
 joys which are at His right hand forevermore ! 
 
0ermoit 4. 
 
 THEMES OF PRAISE. 
 
 (thanksgiving DAT.) 
 
 Psalm cxviii. 1. — " O give thanks unto the Lord, for He is good; 
 because His mercy endureth forever." 
 
 Among the three great feasts annually celebrated by 
 the Jews, was the feast of Tabernacles. It occurred at 
 the conclusion of the harvest and vintage. During the 
 celebration of this festival, the Jews dwelt in tents, — in 
 memory of their forefathers' dwelling in tents, during 
 their passage through the wilderness. It thus served the 
 double purpose of commemorating the former distressed 
 condition of the Church, and of returning thanks to God 
 for the fruits of the earth gathered in each year. On 
 the last day, the great day, of the Feast, the Psalm, 
 which commences with our text, was one of those, which 
 were sung with the strongest expressions of joy, by the 
 people, as they went up to the House of God, to join in 
 its hosannas. Hence, having been originally used un- 
 der circumstances very similar to those under which we 
 are convened to-day, the language of our text may well 
 
66 
 
 be adopted by us : and as we take a brief review of the 
 past year's blessings, it becomes us to unite our voices, 
 with those of the pious Israelites, in exclaiming, "0 give 
 thanks unto the Lord, for He is good : because His 
 mercy endureth forever." 
 
 Perhaps we cannot find a more suitable division of 
 our subject than that suggested by our Chief Magistrate, 
 — which, in substance, embraces these three topics ; — 
 Thanks to God, 1. For blessing the labors of industry 
 with an abundant harvest; 2. For the possession of 
 civil and political privileges, which secure to us the 
 avails of our industry : Lastly, and above all, for the 
 continuance among us of the ministrations of the Gospel, 
 with its hopes and consolations. 
 
 I. And, First, we are called upon to thank God for 
 blessing the labors of industry with an abundant harvest. 
 
 A little reflection on the peculiar process, by which 
 the tiUer of the earth gains the end of his labors, will 
 show us, that his obligations of gratitude to God are 
 specially manifest. The merchant, in the prosecution 
 of his enterprises, finds that his native talents and inge- 
 nuity are brought into requisition at every step. Oft- 
 times, from the commencement to the conclusion of his 
 extensive plans, the powers of a vigorous mind are ac- 
 tively exerted in uniting the several links in the chain 
 of his success. So, too, the mechanic, in the several 
 products of his art, can trace the evidences of his own 
 skill and handiwork, in each step of the process. Li 
 these instances, there is so much of human agency visi- 
 bly employed in bringing about the ultimate result, as 
 to lead men to forget, in a great measure, their depend- 
 ence upon a higher power. But this is not so much the 
 
67 
 
 case of the husbandman. True, he has his part to per- 
 form, before the fields can be made white for the har- 
 vest. But, between his early labors and the final in- 
 gathering of his sheaves, there is an interruption of his 
 own agency, by which he is practically reminded of the 
 fact, and of the necessity, of a higher agency. He dili- 
 gently turns the sod, and plants the seed. Thus far he 
 may go, but no farther, in bringing to maturity the wav- 
 ing gi-ain. At this point, he retires, and looks to Heaven 
 for its blessing. What has he to do with the myste- 
 rious decay and dissolution of the seed which lies im- 
 bedded in the earth? What has he to do with the 
 germinating process, by which it springs up into new 
 life, and gradually presents, first the blade, then the ear, 
 then the full com in the ear ? What has he to do with 
 the bestowment of the genial influences of the sun, — 
 with the quickening, and refreshing visits of the rain, 
 and of the dew ? In all these, he beholds, or should 
 behold and adore, the hand of an all-wise and benevo- 
 lent Parent. The break iii the chain of his own per- 
 sonal operations, is supplied with the wonder-working 
 power of Omnipotence. And what an opportxmity is 
 here aiforded him for passing from nature up to nature's 
 God! Wlience is it, that whilst man withholds his 
 hand in conscious impotence, there is still an efficient 
 agency at work, bringing about the consummation of his 
 wishes ? Whence is it, that while he sleeps, his crops 
 are making a sure progress to maturity ? It is simply 
 because the Lord reigns. He it is, who visiteth the 
 earth and watereth it ; He watereth the ridges thereof 
 abundantly ; He maketh it soft with showers ; He blesg- 
 eth the springing thereof; He crowneth the year with 
 
68 
 
 His goodness, and His paths drop fatness. Well, then, 
 may the husbandman rejoice that the Lord reigneth. 
 Well may he acknowledge the kind and beneficent Provi- 
 dence of Him, who has promised that while the earth 
 remaineth, seed-time and harvest shall not cease. 
 
 But the Providence of God, though not so remarkably 
 visible, is not ,to be the less acknowledged, in every 
 other employment of life. The same hand which meets 
 the expectations of the husbandman, in blessing his la- 
 bors with the rains, and the dews of heaven, withholds 
 His fierce winds, whilst the favorable gale wafts the 
 merchantman to its destination : and then again, when 
 the hopes of the merchant are brightest, he hears of 
 some desolating tempest, or some sweeping surge, which 
 has buried in the depths of ocean, or scattered into use- 
 less fragments the concentrated gains of a life of anxiety 
 and industry. 
 
 While we look, then, upon the prosperity of our 
 country, and witness the happiness, which, to a great 
 extent, pervades every portion of it, let us not forget to 
 render the tribute of gratitude that is due to Him, '■' who 
 openeth His hand, and fiUeth all things living with 
 plenteoueness." 
 
 H. But, Secondly, we are called upon to thank God 
 for the possession of those civil and political privileges, 
 that secure to us the avails of our industry. 
 
 And here. Brethren, I shall not occupy your attention 
 with any eulogies upon the superior excellence of om- 
 political institutions. I will take for granted, that their 
 intrinsic, as well as comparative, excellence, is admit- 
 ted, and duly appreciated by all; and would dismiss 
 this point, by simply remarking, that whilst we speak 
 
69 
 
 with an honest and patriotic pride, of the heritage, which 
 has been left us by tlic bravery and perseverance of our 
 fathers, let us not forget our obligations to Him, by 
 whom, " Kings reign, and princes decree justice," and 
 who " divideth to the nations their inheritance." 
 
 The topic which I wish more particularly to press upon 
 your 9,ttention is, — the security we possess for the^jer- 
 manency of our national existence. The inhabitants 
 of the old world beheld with no ordinary feelings our 
 struggle for independence, and have ever since regarded 
 us with feelings, that differed, according to their different 
 political creeds. Whilst the friends of liberty hailed, 
 with a trembling exultation, the dawn of a new era in 
 the science of government, the adherents of despotism 
 arrayed themselves in opposition to our fathers, not only 
 by the substantial argument of the sword, but by repre- 
 senting their efforts as the day-dream of a few political 
 fanatics. And now that we have succeeded in founding 
 and establishing a home for the free, and a refuge for 
 the oppressed, the same feelings still exist. The patri- 
 ot, wearied with struggling against the tide of adverse 
 influences, still turns his eye to these ^hores, as a bea- 
 con-light, illumining the darkness of his horizon ; and 
 his bosom heaves with sympathetic joy, as he views the 
 onward career, and the growing influence, of oui- free 
 institutions. And on the other hand, the political bigot, 
 capable of seeing nothing except through the medium 
 of the superannuated and crumbling systems of past 
 ages, speaks of our Republic, as an untried experiment ; 
 and thinks he can discern divers prognostics of om- dis- 
 solution. And there are not wanting those among our- 
 selves, who cherish but a feeble hope of our national 
 
 7 
 
70 
 
 continuance. In a word, the pfermanency of our insti- 
 tutions, is considered by many as a problem, which time 
 only can solve. But is this so ? Such may, indeed, be 
 the conclusion, to which the wisdom of the mere politi- 
 cian would lead him ; but if, as Christians, we examine 
 more carefully the foundations, upon which our political 
 labric has been reared, we shall find cause, I think, for 
 ample encouragement. Those foundations were laid 
 deeper than the mere wisdom and foresight of human 
 contrivance. They were laid in the prayers of our 
 fathers, — in their humble, jjious, fervent appeals for 
 assistance to the Grod of battles, — ^in earnest supplica- 
 tions for guidance to Him, in whom are hid all the 
 treasures of wisdom and knowledge. Yes ! while the 
 little band of patriots was contending in the field against 
 a fearful odds, — the halls of om- national assembly, in- 
 stead of resoimding with the din of political strife, were 
 the scene of solemn ejaculations to Heaven, that the 
 apparently unequal contest might terminate in favor of 
 righteousness and humanity. Oh ! who can calculate 
 the availing influence, which these humble addresses of 
 the wise and good, exerted upon the destinies of om' 
 country ? Whatever may be the record of the historian 
 as to the causes of our success, — whatever our emotions 
 of gratitude to our Revolutionary sires for their self- 
 denying exertions in behalf of our liberties, the Chris- 
 tian wiU trace these causes to a higher source, and direct 
 tlie breathings of his grateful spirit to the God anfl 
 Father of all his mercies. He will regard his civil and 
 political privileges, not as results accruing in the ordi- 
 nary providence of God, but as a gift, in answer to the 
 prayers of the righteous, — as a special boon from heav- 
 
71 
 
 en, and as demanding from him a special acknowledg- 
 ment. And here it is that he founds his hopes for the 
 permanency of our liberties. They were orighially 
 the gift of God in answer to prayer ; and so long as 
 we shall continue, as a nation, to imitate our fathers, 
 not only in om* attachment to the liberties which the}' 
 purchased for us, but in tlie spirit of piety, which anima- 
 ted them, so long, and so long only, can we hope that 
 our happiness and prosperity will be continued. We 
 shall have the surest pledge in the faithfulness of an 
 imchangeable God, that what prayer Ji?-st procured 
 for us, prayer will secure to us. As we value, then, the 
 importance of our political privileges, — as we would 
 wish to have them perpetuated from generation to gen- 
 eration, to oiu- latest posterity, let us be careful not to 
 forsake the God of our fathers; let us not cease to 
 render our prayers and thanksgivings to God, who has 
 been to us so good, and whose mercy endureth forever- 
 
 m. We are called upon, in the last place, to thank 
 God that He has continued to us the ministrations of 
 the Gospel, with its hopes and consolations. 
 
 To enumerate all the blessings which have flowed 
 from the possession of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, 
 though an interesting and instructive employment, would 
 be far too extensive an undertaking for the present oc- 
 casion. I would briefly advert, in general terms, to the 
 benefits we derive from it, both nationally and individu- 
 ally. 
 
 The history of the rise and progress, and of the de- 
 cline and fall, of nations vmder the dominion of paganism, 
 presents a painful tissue of all that is revolting to the 
 best feelings of humanity. It will be sufficient to men- 
 
72 
 
 tion but a single feature in their policy. War, with all 
 the evils which necessarily follow in its train, (evils in- 
 calculably aggravated among those who knew nothing 
 beyond the restraints of a heathen morality,) — war was 
 their chief engine of national greatness. Martial cour- 
 age was, with them, synonymous with virtue ; and the 
 man who could succeed, by the ruthless violence of the 
 sword, in sending the largest number of his fellow-beings 
 into eternity, was welcomed, on his return from the bat- 
 tle-field, with the highest honors of his coimtry. The 
 annalist has emblazoned on the page of history, in co- 
 lors of such captivating splendor, the career of the suc- 
 cessful conqueror, that the mind of the reader is irresis- 
 tibly borne along with him, in the rapidity of his 
 movements ; and we seldom pause and look back, to 
 mark the wide-spread desolation, which he has left be- 
 hind him. In such a state of society as that, there 
 could, of course, be no secmity for happiness, or for 
 liberty, except in the possession and the exercise of 
 physical strength. Misery, incalculable misery, would 
 be the lot of the weak and the defenceless. And why 
 is it. Brethren, that we do not witness among ourselves, at 
 this day, such a sanguinary code of political morality ?. 
 It is owing entirely to the mild and peace-speaking 
 tones of the religion of the G-ospel, — that Gospel which, 
 when cai-ried out to the full extent of its benevolent 
 principles, shall teach the people of the earth to beat 
 their swords into plough-shares, and their spears into 
 pruning-hooks, so that nation shall not lift up sword 
 against nation, neither shall they learn war any more. 
 But it is more distinctly and emphatically, as indi- 
 viduals, that we are able, in a great measure, to realise 
 
73 
 
 the inestiniable value of those hopes and consolation.-^, 
 which the religion of the Redeemer can administer. 
 Without those hopes and consolations, earth, with all 
 her verdant hills and fruitful valleys, — with her mines 
 of wealth, and the pride and pomp of her honors, would 
 be but a barren and cheerless desert, with nothing that 
 could satisfy the longings and the far-reaching ambition 
 of the immortal sjiirit. For the fashion of this world 
 passeth away. The heavens shall pass away with a 
 great noise, and the elements shall melt with fervent 
 heat ; — the earth also, and the works that are therein 
 shall be burned up ; but the Christian can take his stand 
 upon the ruins of the Universe, — and in the enjoyment 
 of a hope, which is as an anchor to the soul, both sm^e and 
 steadfast, he can look forward with confidence to the 
 possession of a rich, and enduring inheritance beyond 
 the grave. We have called upon the husbandman to 
 thank God for the blessing of an abundant harvest. 
 But what is it to him, that his grounds bring forth so 
 plentifully as to more than fill his granaries, if at the 
 same time, he is destitute of an interest in the hopes 
 and consolations of the Gospel ? If, in the self-satit- 
 fied spirit of a grovelling, mind, he is disposed to say,. 
 Soul ! thou hast much goods laid up for many years, — 
 take thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry, — whose shall 
 all those things be, which he has provided, when God 
 shall require his soul ? We have called upon the mer- 
 chant to thank God for his hoarded treasures. But 
 what is it to him, that he is clothed in purple and fine 
 linen, and fares sumptuously every day, if, at the same 
 time, he is destitute of the robe of his Redeemer's right- 
 eousness, and to be excluded from the marriage-supper 
 
74 
 
 of the Lamb ? What is it to the statesman, that his 
 ears are greeted with flattering applause of the multi- 
 tude, — ^that his brow is decked with the fairest honors 
 in his country's gift, if he has loved the praise of men 
 more than the praise of God, and has sacrificed an un- 
 fading crown of glory, for the perishing laurels of hu- 
 man gratitude ? You, my Brethren, who are in posses- 
 sion of the blessings of the Gospel, though it should be all 
 that you could call your own, would have no need to envy 
 such merchants, or such statesmen. If they are called 
 upon to thank God for His mercies, how much more 
 should you call upon your souls, and all that is within you, 
 to bless His holy name, who has forgiven you all your in- 
 iquities, and has redeemed your life from destruction ! 
 How much more should you, grasping hopes and conso- 
 lations, which the world can neither give, nor take away, 
 exclaim in the language of the text, " give thanks im- 
 to the Lord, for He is good; because His mercy en- 
 dureth forever !" 
 
0ermon 5. 
 
 THE LORD KNOWN BY HIS JUDGMENTS. 
 
 Psalm ix. 16. — " ne Lord is known hy the judgment which He 
 executeth : the wicked is snared in the work of Ms own hands." 
 
 In the persecutions to ■which David was subjected, he 
 endured and suffered, looking to G-od for deliverance, 
 and trusting in Him at all times, as a tovrer of strength ; 
 and God, who never disappoints the trusting soul, man- 
 ifested His faithfulness by many and great deliverances, 
 and by causing the plots of enemies to recoil, with dis- 
 astrous violence, upon themselves, — thus becoming the 
 providential instruments of their own discomfiture. In 
 the text, David alludes to these gracious interpositions 
 of the Almighty. He did not regard them as ordinary 
 occurrences, nor as fortunate escapes. They bore too 
 evidently the impress of the power, the justice, and the 
 goodness of God, to allow of so inadequate and infidel 
 a construction. Contemplating them in the attitude of 
 a soul patiently waiting upon God, his faith discerned 
 therein the timely aid of his Covenant Helper. The 
 events were, in themselves, so peculiar, and so strikingly 
 
76 
 
 calculated in tteir result, to vindicate the character of 
 God, as to impress upon the mind of the Psalmist the 
 sentiment of the text : — " The Lord is knoion by the 
 judgment which He executeth." 
 
 May the Spirit of the Lord lead us to give to the 
 subject the same solemn heed, with which the Psalmist 
 seems to have regarded it ! 
 
 That " the wicked is snared ia the work of his own 
 hands," appears to have been the fact which specially 
 attracted the attention of David, and from which he de- 
 duced the general proposition contained in the first por- 
 tion of our text, — " The Lord is known by the judgment 
 which He executeth." We shall not, however, confine 
 ourselves to that single illustration, but proceed to enu- 
 merate a few of the many characteristics of the Divine 
 judgments, by which they may infallibly be known as 
 the wonderful workings of Jehovah. 
 
 I. The Lord is known by the judgments which He 
 executeth, when by their infliction, the righteous are suc- 
 cored, and the ungodly are punished. 
 
 Li making this statement, we are not unmindful of 
 our Saviour's caution to those who told Him of the Gal- 
 lileans, whose blood Pilate had niingled with their sacri- 
 fices. But it is one thing rashly to pronounce upon the 
 character and pui-poses of the Divine dispensations, and 
 quite another to acknowledge the hand of God in such 
 as clearly manifest His special agency. None, we pre- 
 sume, wiU deny, that in the course of His providential 
 government, events have transpired, so singularly pro-, 
 ductive of benefit to His people, and of confusion and 
 dismay to His enemies, as to indicate, beyond a ques- 
 tion, the purposes and. designs of Jehovah. When, for 
 
77 
 
 instance, the -world of the ungodly were overwhelmed in 
 the mighty flood of waters, and Noah and his family 
 alone rode secm-ely upon the deep, — ^when the cities of 
 the plain, with their guilty inliabitants, were buried in a 
 storm of fire from heaven, and Lot alone, the servant of 
 the Lord, was conducted in safety from the impending 
 ruia, — when the smitten waters of the sea made bare their 
 channel, that the people of God might pass over, and the 
 persecuting Pharaoh and his host found their graves in 
 the retiu-ning billows, and when the little flock of Cheist 
 found means to escape from the doomed city of Jerusa- 
 lem, while the unbelieving Jews, hemmed in by Roman 
 ai'mies, and watched by Eoman malice, drank to the 
 very dregs the cup of wrath, can we fail to discover in 
 these events, and in their circumstances, the awful retri- 
 butions of Jehovah, as well as His discriminating mercy ? 
 When the Psalmist says that the Lord is known by 
 the judgment which He executeth, he does not simply 
 mean that the Almighty thus exhibits the greatness of 
 His power, making mankind to tremble at the displays 
 of His Omnipotence ; but that the character of those 
 judgments is such in effecting the purposes of righteous 
 government, as to unfold His moral attributes, as a God 
 of holiness and of justice. And as we read upon the 
 pages of His Word, His hatred of sin, and His love of 
 righteousness, it cannot certainly be uninteresting or un- 
 instructive, to turn then to the Book of His Providences, 
 and see there the same God manifesting Himself ; in every 
 act of His almighty power, reflecting the revelations of 
 His Word, and thus teaching us by every mode of in- 
 struction, that " verily, there is a reward for the righteous, 
 ^verily, there is a God that judge th in the earth ! " 
 
78 
 
 The acts of God's providence become thus, to the stu- 
 dent of His character, the very best commentary upon 
 His Word. He has there declared His inflexible op- 
 position to every form of impurity and sin, and that 
 though His mercy may bear long with the sinner, yet 
 the wicked shall at last reap the bitter fruit of his trans- 
 gression. He has also declared His unchanging favor 
 to the righteous, that though their sun may at times be 
 clouded, they shall not be forgotten by Him, upon whose 
 promise and oath they are resting for salvation, but 
 shall, in due time, be succored by Him who is yet to 
 judge the world in righteousness. What more efficient 
 prop could we ask for a weak and wavering faith, than 
 to see God, at times, fulfilling His Word ? What more 
 fearful and certain token of a coming wrath for the 
 wicked, than when the Lord thus makes Himself known 
 by the judgment which He executeth ? 
 
 The subject may be narrowed down from this broad 
 and general aspect, to the experience, — the fears and 
 hopes of every individual. Each one of us must answer 
 for himself to his righteous Judge for the deeds done 
 in the body. The Lord is not merely the Governor of 
 the world at large. It is not merely the accumulated 
 guilt of the old world, and the enormities of Sodom and 
 Gomorrah, that call forth His terrible judgments.- 
 Within the circle of each man's history, the Lord make^; 
 Himself known by the judgment which He executeth. 
 The sin which you committed in secret, — -the course of 
 unrighteous dealing, upon which you have ventured- to 
 build your hopes of worldly advantage, has terminated 
 in disappointment, and shame, and loss. Some deed 
 which conscience condemns will not let you rest, because 
 
79 
 
 it is unpleasant to remember, and you cannot forget it. 
 It is the Lord thus making Himself known to you in 
 His righteous judgment. He will not suffer your sin to 
 go unrebuked here, and unless repentance, and faith in 
 the Redeemer prevent. He will execute all His wrath, 
 in the day of final retribution. 
 
 n. The judgments of the Lord are known by their 
 retributive character. 
 
 It has well been remarked that God frequently makes 
 the sinner read his sin in his punishment : i. e. the char- 
 acter of the punishment bears a close analogy, and 
 sometimes an exact resemblance to the sin of which he 
 has been guilty. 
 
 We find this principle of the Divine Government set 
 forth in one of the earliest enactments of the Bible. 
 '•Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood 
 be shed :" (a rule, which it is to be hoped, for the good 
 of society, none of the sophistical reasonings of a false 
 philanthropy will ever succeed ha abrogating.) " Woe," 
 says the Prophet, " to thee that spoilest, and thou wast 
 not spoiled ; and dealest treacherously, and they dealt not 
 treacherously with thee ! When thou slialt cease to 
 spoil, thou shalt be spoiled ; and when thou shalt make 
 an end to deal treacherously, they shall deal treach- 
 erously with thee." " Judge not," says the Saviour, 
 " that ye be not judged ; for with what judgment ye 
 judge, ye shall be judged, and with what measure ye 
 mete, it shall be measured to you again." " He shall 
 have judgment without mercy," says St. James, " who 
 hath shewed no mercy." " He that leadeth into captiv- 
 ity, shall go into captivity: he that killeth with the 
 sword, shall be killed with the sword." " And I heard 
 
80 
 
 the angel of the waters say, — Thou art righteous, 
 Lord ! which art, and wast, and shalt be, because Thou 
 hast judged thus, — ^for they have shed the blood of saints 
 and prophets, and Thou hast given them blood to drink, 
 for they are worthy; and I heard another out of the 
 altar say. Even so, Lord God Almighty, true and right- 
 eous are Thy judgments." 
 
 And must we not all respond. Amen ! to this rule of 
 righteous adjudication ? What more just, — ^what more 
 simple,— what more effectual, method of bringing oiu* 
 sin to remembrance, than thus to reflect it back upon 
 the conscience, by the infliction of a corresponding pun- 
 ishment ? 
 
 The Lord, who has thus so solemnly declared in His 
 Word the principle of His righteous administration, has 
 not unfrequently made Himself known also in the exe- 
 cution of His judgment. Men of blood have almost 
 always come to a bloody end. The blasphemer, and 
 the despiser of the meek and lowly Saviour, whilst de- 
 fying his Maker, and calling down upon his soul the 
 anger of the Almighty, has been taken at his word, and 
 the bolt has descended whilst the lip was yet warm 
 with the breath of his impiety. But we may come to 
 still more particular and marked illustrations of oui- 
 subject, so clearly indicating the finger of God, that all 
 must discern it. 
 
 David, though a man of God, was left to fall into 
 grievous sin against God, and against his fellow-man ; 
 he was guilty of the double crime of murder and adul- 
 tery ; and though upon his sincere repentance, God for- 
 gave him his sin, yet He suffered it not to pass without 
 the severest manifestation of His displeasm-e. " The 
 
81 
 
 sword shall never depart from thy house ; because thou 
 hast despised Me." The subsequent history of David 
 was a fulfilment of this announcement of a righteous 
 God. His sons, with the exception of Solomon, were 
 all slain, before he himself descended to the tomb. But 
 the most striking feature of the retribution was in the 
 rebellion of Absalom, the son of his bosom, — the child 
 of his partial love. The King of Israel was made to 
 read his sin in his punishment, when, driven from his 
 throne and kingdom by the violence of his unnatural 
 offspring, he went up, barefooted and desolate, the as- 
 cent of Olivet, weeping tears of anguish and repentance. 
 The Lord was most fearfully made known in the execu- 
 tion of this judgment. And the taunt of Shimei, though 
 pointed with a different allusion, was well calculated to 
 awaken bitter reflection, — " Behold thou art taken in thy 
 mischief, because thou art a bloody man." 
 
 When the Saviour was arraigned in the judgment hall 
 of Pilate, and the conscience of even a heathen Gover- 
 nor shrank from shedding the blood of that innocent 
 Sufferer, the Jews shouted with blind and suicidal mal- 
 ice, " His blood be on us, and on our children !" The 
 curse which they imprecated fell with speedy violence. 
 Jerusalem was destroyed, and in the midst of that dread- 
 ful carnage, the walls of the city presented a spectacle 
 painful indeed, yet full of warning and instruction, when 
 by hundreds and by thousands, they who had crucified 
 the Lord of Glory, were themselves seen struggling iu 
 all the agonies of crucifixion. And how is it still with 
 those guilty despisers of the Son of God ? They re- 
 jected their King ; and he has rejected them from being 
 a kingdom and a nation. They mocked the humble 
 
82 
 
 Jesus of Nazai-eth ; He was a wanderer among them, and 
 knew not where to lay His head : and their children 
 have ever since been a bye-word in the earth, down- 
 trodden, and scorned and cast out from the fellowship 
 of men. 
 
 These are some of the conspicuous instances, in which 
 the Lord has made himself known in the execution of 
 Retributive justice. But it is a principle of the Divine 
 dealings, not confined to nations, or to mighty oiFenders. 
 It may be discovered in the discipline which He fre- 
 quently exercises upon His unfaithful members, and in 
 the dispensations by which He calls sinners to repent- 
 ance. The Saviour, my Christian brother, claims yom* 
 supreme affections. He will suffer no rival to take that 
 place in your regards, to which His condescension and 
 dying love entitle Him alone. But how many are the 
 idols to which you bow, whilst Christ receives but a 
 partial and reluctant homage. " Thus saith the Lord, 
 Every one that setteth up his idols in his heart, and 
 cometh to the prophet to inquire of him concerning Me, 
 I the Lord will answer him according to the multitude 
 of his idols." Some object which you may lawfully 
 love, is loved, insensibly perhaps, more than Christ. It 
 may be, the offspring which God has given you, is steal- 
 ing you away from the love and service of the Saviour. 
 Beware lest God sliall call you to read your sin in its pun- 
 ishment ; lest wasting sickness, and the blighting hand 
 of death, shall remove youi- idol, that you may love 
 none but Christ. Perhaps you may have fallen far 
 down in the path of the backslider. What once seem- 
 ed the reasonable standard of Chi"istian duty is now 
 thought too rigid. You may deem it extravagance, — 
 
83 
 
 fanaticism, being righteous overmuch, to deny yourself 
 the pleasures of the world. Ah ! such reasoning may 
 satisfy you, whilst your day is bright, and you can en- 
 joy these pleasures. But remember the days of dark- 
 ness, for they shall be many. When affliction in some 
 of its many shapes, shall make you turn with loathing 
 from the world, and your bereaved spirit longs and 
 prays for heavenly consolations, but you find them not, 
 will it not be a righteous retribution ? Peace, and hope, 
 and joy in the hour of trouble, are for those who live 
 near to Christ in the hour of prosperity. But you have 
 chosen to follow Him afar off, and He will now answer 
 you according to your idols. The Lord will make Him- 
 self known in the execution of Hi? judgment, hj with- 
 holding the grace which you have slighted, and leave 
 you perhaps to tread your path to heaven with a weak 
 and halting faith. 
 
 But if the judgments of the Lord are not withlield 
 from His people, how heavily will they fall upon the 
 stubbornly impenitent ? The Spieit of God, my hear- 
 ers, has striven with you in times past. By all the 
 melting motives of a Saviour's love, and the dreadful 
 awards of a miserable Eternity, He has pressed home 
 upon your heart and conscience, the imjDortance of your 
 soul's salvation. But you have said, and perhaps are 
 wom; saying, — "Depart from me, for I desire not the 
 knowledge of Thy ways." And if the Spirit thus 
 grieved, should depart, would it not be a righteous re- 
 tribution ? If, upon the couch of sickness, and in the 
 hour of death, you should call, but call in vain, for the 
 grace and comfort which you have rejected, you would 
 read your sin in its punishment. The hand of the Lord 
 
84 
 
 will lie seen in tlie execution of this judgment. You 
 have rejected Christ, and He Himself has declared the 
 principle of retributive justice, when He said, " He that 
 denieth Me before men, him will I deny before My Fa- 
 ther, and the holy Angels." 
 
 in. The Lord is known by the judgment which He 
 executeth, by making the sinner the Agent in his own 
 punishment. 
 
 David has given expression to this sentiment in the 
 latter clause of our text, — " The wicked is snared in the 
 work of his own hands." As we have before remarked; 
 the Psalm here speaks with reference to the unceasing 
 devices of his enemies to entrap him, but which result- 
 ed in their own confusion and defeat. And the result 
 has uniformly been the same in the history of the 
 Church of Christ. "Whenever the ungodly have arisen 
 in open opposition to the truth, the very measures they 
 have adopted to secure their ends, have not only failed 
 in doing the expected injury to the cause of the Re- 
 deemer, but have proved some of the most fruitful oc- 
 casions of the Saviour's triumph. The very wrath of 
 man has been made by God the occasion of praise to 
 Him, while the remainder of wrath He has restrained. 
 And it is one of the strongest grounds of the believer's 
 faith in the ultimate establishment of the Redeemer's 
 kingdom, that the interests of that kingdom have not 
 only been advanced by the positive efforts of its friends, 
 but also by the opposition of its foes. What falsehoods 
 have not been forged, — what slanders have not been 
 hurled against the peaceful cause of Christ ! And what 
 has been the issue of such schemes, but to surround the 
 truth with a mote impregnable defence, and to weaken 
 
85 
 
 and prostrate the energies of the wicked ? One illus- 
 tration, as it lies at the foundation of our subject, ■will 
 suffice. The enemies of the Cross, in their blind malig- 
 nity, were persuaded, that if they could but compass the 
 death of the Saviour, and hide Him in the grave, it 
 ■would be a signal and final defeat of all His pretensions. 
 They urged on their impious ■work until they succeeded. 
 Jesus was crucified, and was buried ; and the darkness 
 which at that a^wful moment veiled the sun, seemed to 
 fall also on the hopes of all who were looking for re- 
 demption in Jerusalem. But the grave, and the bands 
 of death were not strong enough to retain the Lord of 
 Life. He awaked from His brief slumber ; and His en- 
 emies, who were watching His sealed sepulchre, fled 
 trembling before the might of a rising Redeemer. They 
 were " snared in the work of their own hands." For 
 that which they thought was their victory, was the 
 pledge of their most signal defeat. " Christ crucified" 
 is now, and ever will be, the believer's hope and joy. 
 Jesus has risen from the tomb, and He now reigns a 
 King in glory ; and He will continue to reign till He 
 hath put all enemies under His feet. As sm-ely as 
 Jesus rose again, and liveth evermore. His opposers 
 will find themselves the agents in their own destruction. 
 There is, then, a marked propriety in the Psalmist's 
 calling attention to this feature of the subject. That 
 the sinner is his own destroyer, is one of the most mo- 
 mentous of truths. Christ, my impenitent friend, is 
 contending for the sovereignty of your heart. The 
 kingdom of God cometh not with observation. It is 
 not in the great and stirring events of the religious 
 world, that we perceive the essential (^aracter of that 
 
 8* 
 
86 
 
 struggle which is gorog on betTveen the Powers of dark- 
 ness and the Prince of light. The kingdom of God is 
 within you. The heart of the sinner is the field upon 
 which the Son of God, by His Spirit, achieves His last- 
 ing victories. You may not be willing to engage in 
 open warfare with the cause of Cheist, but in the secret 
 chambers of the soul, where the Spirit strives and 
 pleads, you are engaged in a conflict, which, if you per- 
 severe, must end in your defeat and everlasting ruin. 
 Woe ! unto him that strivcth with his Maker ! In re- 
 fusing to yield to the claims of Christ, you may succeed 
 in repelling His Spirit ; but you will be digging the 
 grave of your own soul. He may never trouble you 
 again with His approaches ; and, deceived by a false 
 peace, you may not know that you have been " snared 
 in the work of your own hands," till you make your bed 
 in Hell. 
 
 And if such should be the issue of yoxir opposition to 
 the truth, the hand of the Lord will be seen in the exe- 
 cution of the judgment. For in suffering you to be 
 snared and taken in the net which yom- own hands have 
 spread, we discover a God who treats us at all times 
 as free agents, — as capable of receiving or rejecting His 
 offers of mercy. This free agency He will never vio- 
 late. You may contetid with God, and in so doing, you 
 may be your own destroyer. 
 
 IV. Finally and briefly: — The judgments of the 
 Lord are known by their not being speedily executed. 
 
 This rule of the Divine conduct would be suggested 
 by the general descriptions with which the Bible is fiUed, 
 of the character of God. We find Him everywhere 
 mentioned as tH? Lord God, merciful and gracious, slow 
 
87 
 
 to angej", and of great kindness. He is said, not will- 
 ingly to afflict, as thougli even the chastisements ■which 
 He sends upon His people foi* their sanctification and 
 salvation, were reluctantly dispensed. And so, in re- 
 gard to the ■wicked. And it is not because the Lord is 
 indifferent to sin, that the sinner is suffered to go on in 
 his -wickedness from year to year, — but because He is 
 long-suffering to^wards him, not -willing that he should 
 perish, but that he should come to repentance. 
 
 There is in this respect a consistency in the Divine 
 administration, which it would be well to notice; — 
 the application of a similar principle to the righteous 
 and to the wicked. The people of God do not receive 
 i\YeYc reward at once, nor speedily. The established 
 hope^ and calm joys of the matured Christian, are the 
 result of a long and trying process. In vaia will they 
 be sought for, in the babe in Christ : they are the ripen- 
 ed and vigorous fruit of many tears and prayers. But 
 they will come at the last ; and many a faithful believer 
 has testified that it is good for a man that he both hope 
 and patiently wait for the salvation of God. 
 
 And so, the judgments of God upon the wicked are 
 not speedily executed. Compassion is exercised to the 
 utmost limit of Divine forbearance. Rebuke after re- 
 buke is given, — gently and severely. Blessings and af- 
 flictions, both make their appeal. The Spirit some- 
 Imes whispers in the heart, " Come!" and then again 
 He rouses the conscience with guUty forebodings of the 
 " wrath to come." And not till all the resources of 
 Providence and Grace have been tried, and the sinner, 
 hardened in rebellion, has rejected all, does God turn 
 away, and leave him as a vessel fitted to destruction. 
 
88 
 
 But the righteous judgments of God will come at the 
 last, and not the less surely, nor the less heavily, be- 
 cause they have been deferred till the cup of -wicked- 
 ness is full. You may see them iu the cold indifference 
 which settles down upon the soul, that was once moved 
 by the tenderness of a Saviour's love. You may see 
 them in the sneer, and the scoff, and the angry unbelief 
 of the man, whose conscience was once hopefully swayed 
 by the terrors of the Lord. You may see them in that 
 restless and determined hostility to the truth, — the 
 most perfect type of the arch-fiend, — ^by which the 
 abandoned soul strains every nerve to drag others with 
 him to the pit of woe. These, however, are but the 
 beginnings of sorrows. They are but the distant mut- 
 teriugs of the approaching storm; but they arg suf- 
 ficient, my fellow-sianer, to tell you that your judgment 
 lingereth not, — that your damnation slumbereth not. 
 
 " Be not deceived ; God is not mocked ; whatsoever 
 a man sowe^A, that shall he also reap." And 0, what 
 a harvest for you, if you go into eternity, with a heart 
 unreconciled to God, and with a conscience burdened 
 with unforsaken, unforgiven sin ! 
 
0trmott fi. 
 
 THE BELIEVER AN HEIR. 
 
 Titus hi. 7. — '; That being justified freely by His grace, we 
 should he made heirs according to the hope of eternal life." 
 
 Li these "words, St. Paul briefly compreliends all the 
 privileges of the believer's spiritual birth-right. To be 
 justified, — to be pardoned freely by the grace of God, 
 through faith in the Saviour's blood, — to be admitted 
 into the family of God, cherished and protected as the 
 sons and daughters of the Lord Almighty, — to be pro- 
 claimed heirs of a blessed inheritance ia heaven, yea, 
 joint-heirs with the Son of God Himself, — these consti- 
 tute the fulness of the Christian's hope, the true and en- 
 during riches of the soul. 
 
 The last mentioned prerogative of the justified soul, 
 — ^his being an " heir according to the hope of eternal 
 life," — "wUl form the subject of our present reflections, 
 That it occupied no small share of the Apostle's reflec- 
 tions, we gather from the emphatic manner in which he 
 elsewhere refers to it. " K children," he says, " then 
 heirs, heirs of God, and joint heu'S with Christ." By 
 
90 
 
 such expressions, St. Paul is plainly endeavoring to wake 
 up the soul to a proper estimate of her sacred privilege. 
 As though he had said, — If ye be indeed the children of 
 God, then God should be loved as your Father and your 
 Benefactor ; if ye be heirs of the riches of His glory, an 
 inheritance, brighter and better than anything the vrorld 
 can give, then ye should live in consistency with such 
 hopes, and set your affections upon things above. Your 
 manner of life should be that of those whose treasure is 
 in heaven, — ^to whom the earth is but a place of pilgrim- 
 age, — whose home and happiness are in the skies. 
 
 In order to illustrate this point, it may be well to 
 draw a lesson of wisdom from the children of this world. 
 Let us see, then, what would be the natm-al conduct of 
 an heir to an earthly inheritance. 
 
 First, — He would he anxious to secure the validity 
 of his title. 
 
 Any doubt upon this point would not fail to disquiet 
 him, and he would spare no effort to render liis claim 
 clear and indefeasible. His anxieties would be more 
 particularly awakened, if he knew that enemies were 
 standing ready to dispute his claim, and if possible, to 
 defeat it. Frequently would his title-deeds be exam- 
 ined, — every passage and expression pondered with the 
 deepest solicitude, and his fears would cease only with 
 the assurance that his interests were safe, — that his 
 hopes rested upon a good foundation. He would need 
 no strong persuasion to adopt such a course. If his 
 soul longed for the expected possession, the slightest 
 cloud over his prospects would startle him into a be- 
 coming vigilance. 
 
91 
 
 The application of these remarks is extremely ob- 
 vious. God has set before us a glorious prize, one 
 worthy of our efforts, — costly beyond all language, — 
 enduring as eternity. The conditions of its possession 
 are revealed so distinctly, that none can mistake them. 
 Now shall they who claim an interest in that inheritance 
 which Christ has provided for His people, be less so- 
 licitous about their title, than an heir to the corruptible 
 treasures of the world? Shall they rest contented 
 with the vague hope that heaven is theirs, without being 
 able to assign a good reason for that hope ? God has 
 not abandoned the believer to a mere wish for eternal 
 happiness. He has furnished him sufficient grounds for 
 an enlightened, holy confidence that his sins are for- 
 given, and that hereafter he shall be presented faultless 
 before the throne of the Father's glory. Else, how are 
 we to understand St. Paul, when he exhorts us to make 
 our calling and election sure ? to persevere unto the at- 
 tainment of the full assurance of hope ? to draw near 
 unto God in the full assurance of faith ? In the near 
 prospect of death, this Apostle himself exclaimedj " I 
 know in whom I have believed." K this then be the 
 Christian's privilege, to neglect it is to sin against the 
 soul. This confidence will not, it is true, be the irrnne- 
 diate fruit of the believer's faith. He may be subjected 
 to distressing doubts. His sins may at times threaten 
 to exclude him from the presence of God. But from 
 this and all other evils, God has provided an ample re- 
 fuge in the assurances of His Word. Is sin repented 
 of, and forsaken, and never wilfully committed ? Is it 
 a painful thought that any remains of a corrupt nature 
 still cleave to the soul, and is sincere repentance coupled 
 
92 
 
 with a joyful reliance upon Christ as our SaTiour ? Is 
 faith in the Saviour productive of works meet for re- 
 pentance ? Are the fruits of the Spirit living and grow- 
 ing within us ? Does the love of Chbist constrain us 
 to the daily mortification of every unholy propensity? 
 And when we have done all, is the sentiment of our 
 hearts stUl, ' Lord ! I am an unprofitable servant ; still 
 must I cleave for my hope of salvation, to Him whose 
 blood cleanseth from aU sin ?' If so, then may we re- 
 joice in the gracious promise, that such shall in no wise 
 be cast out. Satan may accuse, a fearful heart may 
 object, but the promise of God standeth sm-e, — " There 
 is no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus." 
 But if these indications of spiritual life are wanting, — 
 if we are relying upon past experiences, to the neglect 
 of present evidences, there is danger lest our hope be 
 built upon the sand, and fail to sustain us in the hour 
 when we shall need all the comfort which religion can 
 give us. The danger is greater from the fact that there 
 is such a thing as a^. false hope, — a hope which wdU van- 
 ish before the terrors of death, and the revelations of 
 the judgment. Let us not leave our title to heaven in a 
 painful uncertainty. If indeed heirs to that bright in- 
 heritance, let the estimation in which we hold it, be 
 manifested by a constant diligence in securing and es- 
 tablishing our claim. 
 
 2. An heir to an earthly inheritance ipould he care- 
 ful lest it should receive any damage. 
 
 He would not only guard it against every positive in- 
 jury, but would be adding to its value, so that his pos- 
 sessions might be as large as possible at the time of his 
 entering upon them. 
 
93 
 
 Consistency demands that the heii- of heavenly bless- 
 edness exhibit a similai' conduct. The precepts of the 
 Bible, and every example of holy living which it pre- 
 sents, impress upon us the important truth that " the 
 life of God in the soul" is ever advancing in ripeness, 
 and in strength. " Lay up for yourselves treasures in 
 heaven ;" i. e. not only secure a title to its rewards, but 
 be ever adding to your store. And such should be the 
 aim of every soul that has tasted of the good things of 
 the world to come. Among the many purposes which 
 Grod may have for continuing the believer on earth, we 
 may reasonably conclude that growth in grace is one, 
 and by no means the least important. It is a great thing 
 indeed to be horn of G-od, — from a child of wrath, to 
 be made the child of His love, and an heir of future 
 glory. It is a great thing to be iitted for the lowest 
 seat in heaven ; to speak, though it be with stammering 
 lips, the praises of our Eedbbmee. But the Scriptures 
 encourage us to aim at still greater things ; and reason 
 leads us to conclude that the lai'ger our supplies of 
 grace here, the better prepared we shall be to praise 
 God in heaven, and occupy a place nearer to the throne 
 of His glory. All will indeed love, and praise, and 
 minister before Him with an Angel's fervor, and an An- 
 o-el's zeal. But as one star differeth from another star 
 in glory, so is it among the principalities and the pow- 
 ers of heaven. Here then is a motive for exertion, 
 which, if properly understood, may well call into action 
 our holiest energies. Who would not dismiss the cum- 
 bering cares, the tempting pleasures, of the world, when 
 Eternity unfolds her treasures, and God's all-animating 
 voice calls us to so blessed an inheritance ! Shall we 
 
94 
 
 suffer the trifles of the passing horn- or the gxarer anx- 
 ieties of this fleeting life to stand between oui" souls, 
 and such bright hopes in heaven ? Eather let our praj'er 
 be, that God would give us juster views of what heaven 
 is; — ^that He would impart larger measures of His 
 Spirit, — a richer earnest of our future joys ! Our course 
 should be ever onward. There are heights and depths 
 in the religion of the Gospel, which you have not yet 
 explored. Much as you may have known of Cheist and 
 His love, there is a boimdless ocean yet before you. 
 His glories none can fathom, — ^His love cannot be told. 
 Much as your heart may have exulted in the joys of re- 
 demption, — joys unutterable and greater still, may be 
 yours. There is much yet to learn of Jesus in the ful- 
 ness of His grace, — ^much of your need of His Almighty 
 protection, His gracious intercession with the Father, — 
 a deeper sense of your guilt and unworthiness, and of 
 your obligations to the tender mercies of God. Count 
 all things, then, but loss, for the excellency of the 
 knowledge of Christ Jesus your Lord. Let your ap- 
 proaches be frequent to the mercy-seat, with the prayer 
 that the Saviour may be revealed more and more, until 
 the riches of your inheritance shall rise and expand be- 
 fore the eye of faith with irresistible attractions, and 
 the world be trodden with contempt beneath your feet. 
 3. All heir to an earthly inheritatice would natu- 
 rally be much occupied in meditating upon his future 
 prospects. 
 
 Often would he overleap the interval which stood be- 
 tween him and his possessions, and spend many a soli- 
 tary hour in pleasing anticipation of ihe wealth which 
 was to be his. 
 
95 
 
 Such too will be the direction of his thoughts, whose 
 choicest blessings are beyond the grave. Where your 
 treasure is, there will your heart be also. Nothing will 
 so truly manifest a person's real character as his secret 
 tlwughts. It is in our hours of seclusion, when, re- 
 moved from eveiy external influence, the heart is left to 
 its unchecked impulses, that the safest test is furnished 
 for a judgment of ourselves. Emotions apparently of a 
 sacred character may be awakened under the power of 
 the truth, and because susceptible of such feelings upon 
 extraordinary occasions, we may imagine that no reason 
 exists for a rigid self-examination. But where are the 
 fruits of such favored seasons ? What becomes of these 
 emotions when the occasion has passed away, and the 
 world is revisited ? Do they follow you to the closet ? 
 Do you there linger upon the sacred theme, and aban- 
 don it with reluctance ? Ah ! how soon do the unhal- 
 lowed occupations of the world commence their deso- 
 lations upon the heart, and remove almost every trace 
 of the things which are imseen and eternal ! The 
 salutary operations of the Spirit are interrupted. The 
 world and worldly things employ the anxious thoughts, 
 and the soul, forgetful of her better portion, foregoes her 
 highest and her purest joys. When the heart has thus 
 become once more the seat of carnal hopes, they 
 will necessarily give a coloring to our meditations, 
 and be the companions of our midnight watches. 
 Not so with the consistent heir of glory. There will 
 doubtless be frequent occasion to mourn the influence 
 of the world's fascinations, yet the prevailing current 
 of his affections and his thoughts will be toward the 
 place where Christ sitteth at the right hand of God, — 
 
96 
 
 the irany nansions in his Father's house. Such reflec- 
 tions vill ever be welcome to the heir of heaven. They 
 will mingle with his daily duties ; and even amid scenes 
 of noise and distraction, the soul will mount upon the 
 wings of contemplation, and dwell in silent thought 
 upon the peace of heaven. There is no assault the 
 world can make, which wiU not drive him nearer to his 
 iinal rest. If sorrow and the disappointment of early 
 hope have taught us what shadows we are, and what 
 shadows we pursue, what wiU so sweetly silence com- 
 plaint, and fm-nish a theme for unbounded joy, as a re- 
 membrance of the believer's heritage in the skies ! — 
 What more effectual antidote to grief, than to transfer 
 ourselves to those realms where sorrow is unknown, 
 and every tear shall be wiped away by the hand of 
 God. And upon an heir of heaven, the empty ^'oys of 
 the world will produce a similar effect. The pleasures 
 of a ransomed soul are such as the world knows not of; 
 and to the mind and heart that have been once attimed 
 to the song of redeeming love, the sounds of unholy 
 mirth are but painful and harsh discord. Even amid 
 such scenes, the hei?- of heaven will be quickly remind- 
 ed of the so?igs of heaven, and will be deaf to all but 
 those strains in which he shall hereafter join with the 
 blood-bought multitude about the throne. But the best 
 and happiest hours of the child of God, are when he 
 has entered into his chamber, and has shut his doors 
 about him, and the soul can rise above all that is world- 
 ly, and be alone with God, — when the truths of the 
 Bible are felt in all the grandeur of their simplicity, un- 
 embarrassed by any unhallowed associations, — ^when he 
 can realize the great objects of his hope, the blessed 
 
97 
 
 promises of the Gospel. It is then that solemn exta- 
 cies of feeling will steal over the spirit, and seasons of 
 untold bliss impart true happiness to the heir of heaven. 
 How little, — how trifling does the world appear, when 
 heaven thus opens to the view ! "What food for never- 
 tii'ing reflection, for consoling thought, is here presented 
 to the Christian ! " God is then seen in more of His 
 unveiled glories ; Christ is then seen as our compassion- 
 ate High Priest and Advocate with the Father ; and the 
 communion of the Spirit our Comforter and Sanctifier, 
 subdues the soul into deep and reverential awe. 
 
 " This, — tibis is the solemn feast of feeling, 
 'Tis the Sabbath of the soul." 
 
 My hearer, — ^if an heir of heaven, it is youi' hope to 
 spend an eternity of such bliss, — to enjoy one unbroken, 
 everlasting season of such communion with the Triune 
 God. It is your hope not only to behold, but to aspire 
 after a resemblance to the glory of your Lord, till you 
 shall yourself be changed into the same image, from 
 glory to glory. Do you frequently meditate upon such 
 destinies ? Do your thoughts dwell upon them, till they 
 have become familiar and influential realities ? or do 
 they float before the mind like dim and undefined shad- 
 ows ? Endeavor to gather larger foretastes of your 
 inheritance. It will soothe your afflictions. It will 
 augment your joys. It will enlarge your capacities for 
 the occupations of the heavenly world. 
 
 Lastly ; The heir to an earthly inheritance, if influ- 
 enced by proper feelings, would ever remember with 
 gratitude his benefactor. 
 
 9* 
 
98 
 
 When the children of Israel were about to be intro- 
 duced into the promised land, Moses gave them a sol- 
 emn injunction to beware lest, in the enjoyment of their 
 blessings, they should forget the Lord their God, who 
 brought them out of the house of bondage. The Church 
 of the Redeemer needs this caution still. The soul of 
 the believer has been delivered from a bondage far worse 
 than that of God's ancient people. The liberty to which 
 we have been redeemed, — our hopes, our joys, are but 
 faintly typified by the blessings of Canaan. And what 
 is still more to our purpose, the ransom of the soul is 
 the result of a sacrifice more costly, — of blood more 
 precious, — of sufferings which appeal to the tenderest 
 sensibilities, and to the profoundest gratitude. Our 
 Deliverer has Himself become our ransom. The stroke 
 which might have deservedly fallen upon us, fell with 
 unmeasured severity upon His spotless soul. Our 
 smiles are the fruit of His tears. Our comforts spring 
 from His bitter pains of body, and the sharper afflictions 
 of a wounded spirit. Our life is the purchase of His 
 agonies and death. Our hopes of a blessed immor- 
 tality may be traced to that hour of dreadful anguish, 
 when Jesus mourned the hidings of His Father's coun- 
 tenance. Our triumph over the grave will be due to 
 Him who lay down amid its silence, and rose again for 
 us, that they who sleep in Jesus might be partakers of 
 His glorious resm-rection. He has gone to heaven to 
 intercede for our forgiveness and salvation ; and there, 
 his exhaustless love is preparing a place, my Chris- 
 tian brother, for the repose of your soul. " The Lamb 
 that was slaiu " will be the burden of your song when 
 you shall join the Church triumphant, in glory. It is 
 
99 
 
 He Himself who will be the portion of the happy 
 spirit. And shall we ever thuik of our inheritance, and 
 forget Him, whose love bestows it upon us so freely ? 
 There is no blessing that we ask of our Father, which 
 does not remind us of our need of Christ, and our debt 
 of gratitude to Him. Do we plead that our sins may 
 be blotted out, and that God would save us from de- 
 served condemnation ? It is in Jesus' name, and for 
 Jesus' sake, that we ask it. Do we pray for the joys 
 of salvation, — the blessed assurance of acceptance with 
 the Father ? Our prayer ascends again in the name of 
 Jesus. Do we ask for protection amid temporal and 
 spiritual dangers ? Still it must be for the sake of Je- 
 sus. In the dark hour of death, do we, in trembling 
 accents, send up the prayer of helplessness to Him who 
 alone can give us help? Again, the name of Jesus 
 lingers upon the dying lip. And if our prayers are an- 
 swered, it is altogether for the sake of Him, who stands 
 as our gracious Advocate with the Father. then, in 
 all our joys, let us remember Him, who hath borne om* 
 griefe, and carried our sorrows, — who, by His death, 
 hath opened unto us the gate of everlasting Life, and 
 through whose all-sufficient grace and merits, we hope 
 to enter upon the enjoyment of our eternal inheritance ! 
 
0crmon 7. 
 
 SELF-EXAMINATION. 
 
 2 Cor. xm. 5. — Examine yourselves wlietlier ye he in the faith; 
 prove your own selves." 
 
 The power in every man, of tiurning his thoughts npon 
 himself, and making his own character and endowments 
 the subject of his contemplations, is among the most 
 remarkable of all the attributes conferred upon him. 
 No other, indeed, of all his wonderful capabilities is to 
 be compared with it. Many of his other noble quali- 
 fications may distinguish him from the unreflecting brute, 
 and bring him into alliance with the Angels, and even 
 with God Himself; but the more we think of this strange 
 power which he possesses, the more mysterious does it 
 seem, and we are forced to exclaim with David, that we 
 are " fearfully and wonderfully made." The very pos- 
 session of a faculty so mysterious and important in its 
 operations, involves a responsibility correspondingly 
 gTeat. He who has bestowed it upon us, will call us to 
 a strict account for its faithful exercise. The Sacred . 
 Writers not only recognize this power in man, but make 
 their appeal to it, in the most solenm and impressive 
 
101 
 
 manner. The Apostle urges the duty of self-examina- 
 tion upon the members of the Church at Corinth, pre- 
 vious to theu- approaching the Lord's Table ; the occa- 
 sion was the most solemn of any within the compass of 
 the Christian's duties or privileges, and hence the so- 
 lemnity of his appeal. In conformity with this view of 
 its importance, let me ask your attention to the maimer 
 in which the duty should be performed, and the benefits 
 resulting from its performance. 
 
 I. In discharging the duty before us, the Law of 
 God should be the rule or standard, to guide us. 
 
 Nothing short of this will enable us to gain the ob- 
 jects of a self-examination. The rule which guides us 
 must obviously be something out of ourselves. The test 
 by which the quality of any substance is tried, must be 
 something entirely distinct from that substance. Who 
 would think oi proving the purity of gold or silver, by 
 simply comparing some of the grosser parts of the ma- 
 terial, with those which appear more excellent ? No 
 man, interested in the result, would be satisfied with a 
 decision built on such a process, — because it is the whole 
 substance whose excellence is to be tested, and not sim- 
 ply a part. That which is in itself of questionable char- 
 acter, cannot, with any propriety or safety, be elevated 
 into a standard, by which the character of any thing else 
 is to be finally decided. 
 
 However plain the truth of this illustration may seem, 
 it becomes important to insist upon it, from the mistake 
 which is so often made on the subject in question. K 
 the test by which our characters are to be tried, must 
 be something out of, and distinct from, ourselves, then 
 no rule of judgment, framed by our own wisdom, can be 
 
102 
 
 received, or relied upon, as a safe guide in our attempts 
 to obtain a knowledge of ourselves. Our wisdom, our 
 judgment, are a part of ourselves, and themselves need 
 to be guided and corrected by a higher wisdom, — the 
 imchangeable decisions of Him, who alone is infallible. 
 But inevitable as this conclusion may seem to be, when 
 the subject is discussed with an unbiassed mind, — ^how 
 many there are, hazarding their eternal salvation upon 
 the verdict of their own partial judgments ! An exami- 
 nation of your own character, my Hearer, is a solemn 
 and essential duty ; but beware of entering those dark 
 chambers of imagery, under the guidance of a benighted 
 judgment. Selfishness and pride are in league with 
 every unholy passion to lead you astray amidst the 
 blinding mazes of the human heart, which none but God 
 can understand. 
 
 If the individual judgment, unguided by the Spirit 
 and the Law of God, cannot be trusted in the important 
 work of self-examination, no more can the collected wis- 
 dom of the world. The same arguments, substantially, 
 which establish the first branch of this proposition, are 
 of force in establishing the last. For what is the col- 
 lected wisdom of the world ? What are the rules, the 
 maxims, the prevailing decisions of a community, or of 
 a nation, or of mainkind united, but a code of morality 
 resulting from the combination of individual judgments? 
 It matters not how high in the scale of intelligence, 
 many of these individuals may stand, nor how great or 
 salutary the influence which their counsels may exert in 
 mere worldly matters ; their sentiments can be no guide 
 for us, when the question becomes one of infinitely 
 more solemn concernment, — when the condition, and the 
 
103 
 
 destinies, of an immortal soul, are the points to be ex- 
 amined and decided. Here again, the complacency of 
 many leads them astray, when a little reflection and 
 honest dealing would convince them of a fatal error. 
 Worldly maxims must invariably coincide with the pre- 
 vailing dispositions of worldly minds. Their very basis 
 is the false suggestions of an unsanctiiied heart, and the 
 whole system and superstructure must necessarily be 
 composed of similar materials. And hence it is that 
 many who are led to reject the pure requirements of 
 God's Law, and who perhaps have not sufficient mental 
 discipline to form independent opinions of their own 
 are governed by the customs of the society in which 
 they live, — ^by the dogmatic decisions of some leading 
 mind, or by the current notions which the majority of a 
 fallen world has sanctioned. These are the lights with 
 which they venture to penetrate the dark recesses of a 
 depraved heart. When a voice from the eternal world 
 wakes them up to a consciousness of something wrong 
 within, instead of listening, as they should do, to the 
 faithful teachings of that voice, they are soothed into a 
 false security, by the flattering announcements of a world 
 that is at enmity with God. Self examination conduct- 
 ed by so false a standard, must necessarily lead to false 
 conclusions, and to final ruin. The wisdom of the 
 world, even its purest form of morality, must fail of 
 reaching the unfathomable depths of our spiritual na- 
 ture, or of ministering to the wants of our spiritual pov- 
 erty. It speaks peace, just when we need the alarming 
 tones of a holier and truer guide, and leads the soul in 
 her most fearful emergency, to shelter herself under a 
 spiirious hope, — the wretched counterfeit of religion. 
 
104 
 
 The way is now prepared to insist more dii'ectly upon 
 our original proposition, that the Law of God, and that 
 alone, must be the standard, by which the examination 
 of one's self is to be conducted. This alone fuliils all 
 the conditions of a proper test of human character. It 
 comes from God, and not from man. It is a standard 
 of judgment, independent entirely of the creature. In 
 its origin and structure, — in its requirements and sanc- 
 tions, it is not indebted in the least to human wisdom. 
 It lies, in all its characteristics, out of ourselves : and 
 when we approach it, we are conscious of standing in 
 the presence of superior majesty. It speaks a lan- 
 guage so strange to the ear of fallen man, so perfectly 
 aside from all the sympathies of his depraved nature, 
 that he will either yield to its teachings and reproofs, 
 as to a master and reformer, or wiU rise in wicked re- 
 bellion against it, as his worst enemy. It has no flat- 
 tery for the pride and self-esteem of the sinner ; no in- 
 dulgence for his frailties ; not a word upon which he 
 can build a hope, short of its own pure and holy requu-e- 
 ments. The Law of God is the transcript of the char- 
 acter of God. Whilst it tells us what we should be, it 
 tells us also what God is. In the light of its unspotted 
 holiuess, the sinner will see, without any disguise, his 
 own impurity. In the justness of its demands, he will 
 see his fearful exposure to the righteous indignation of 
 his Judge. In the extent of its claims, he will learn his 
 utter weakness, — ^how helpless, as well as guilty, he lies 
 in the hands of his Sovereign God. And as a full dis- 
 covery of his character is thus made, the awful sentence 
 of condemnation, whilst it falls with destructive force 
 upon his proud hopes, will be confessed to be no more 
 
105 
 
 than his sins deserve. Beloved, if you are truly in earn- 
 est in the ■work of self-examination, you will not shrink 
 from such a test as this. You will not trust to the ly- 
 ing judgments of any created wisdom, but bring your 
 heart into the presence of a pure and omniscient God, 
 and submit to the searching scrutiny of His Law. 
 
 2. Self-examination should be thorough. 
 
 And here lies the main difficulty, — that of inducing the 
 sinner to begin the important business of trying himself 
 by aholy test, and prosecute it, at the expense of all that is 
 dear to self-love, and the pride of a carnal heart. The 
 cost must be fully counted, and a resolution formed, in 
 the Lord's strength, that the wisdom of God shall tri- 
 lunph over our weak and partial decisions, and that 
 every fond and secret lust shall be brought from its 
 hiding-place, and sacrificed to the demands of Infinite 
 Holiness. 
 
 When the young Ruler in the Gospel came to Jesus 
 with the earnest inquiry, " What shall I do that I may 
 inherit eternal life ?" we have no reason to doubt that 
 he desired to be saved, and that his desire amounted to 
 a degree of anxiety. So great indeed was his eager- 
 ness, that he came running to Jesus, asking, with much 
 solicitude, what the Law could require of him, beyond 
 what he had already done. He was apparently willing 
 to abide by the decisions of God's Law. Here, one 
 might suppose, was a fair candidate for heaven, who 
 would gladly seize upon the instructions of Christ, and 
 relinquish aU that he possessed, that he might secure 
 " the pearl of great price." But the further revelations 
 of the Saviour disclosed terms, with which the young 
 man found it dif&cult to comply, and the work of salva- 
 
 10 
 
106 
 
 tion was abandoned. This instance of a soul shrinking 
 from a faithful exhibition of the Divine requirements, is 
 not, we fear, a solitary one. In self-examination, it is 
 the danger to which we are peculiarly exposed, and 
 from which nothing but the grace of God can shield us. 
 Like the young Ruler, many will approve of, and submit 
 to, the Law, so long as it crosses no darling passion. 
 That Law is broad, — piercing even to the discernment 
 of the thoughts and intents of the heart ; it stops not at 
 the decency of outward deportment. It will cast its 
 clear light upon all the hidden motives of conduct, and 
 expose their selfishness. It demands that every lust 
 shall be given up ; and so long as anything remains to 
 flatter native pride, it will speak nothing but the lan- 
 jmage of rebuke and condemnation. If the sinner at- 
 tempts to adulterate, or explain away, the simple and 
 forcible precepts of God's Law, — ^if he refuses to look 
 at the darkest features of his character, as drawn by 
 the very finger of God, so far from reaping any benefit 
 from self-examination, it would have been better per- 
 haps that he had not commenced the scrutiny. Such 
 disingenuous dealings with the law, instead of leading 
 you to Christ, and the consolations of His Gospel, will 
 leave you to the shelter of a fancied goodness of your 
 own, and scourge you in the hour of peril with guilty 
 fears, and the sting of an outraged conscience. if it 
 be a solemn duty to bring every open sin and secret 
 fault to the adjudications of the Divine Law, and to bend 
 unreservedly to the justice of all its decisions, it must 
 be a fearful thing to perform but half the duty. It is trifling 
 with God, and with the everlasting peace of the soul. 
 It is turning His truth into a lie, and provoking Him to 
 
107 
 
 leave us to a ■wilful blindness, — to a confirmed impeni- 
 tence. For what greater provocation can be offered, 
 than to yield, wliere our convenience is not disturbed, 
 our taste is not offended, or the pride of self-will is not 
 touched, — ^but, just at the point where self-denial is re- 
 quired, to hug our darling lusts, and close the ear against 
 the warnings of the Searcher of all hearts ? 
 
 3. Self-examination must \)Q frequent. 
 
 The reasons for this direction may be found in the 
 nature of the work to be done. It is not like some ex- 
 ternal duties, which, when once performed, are not ne- 
 cessarily to be repeated. It calls us to deal with the 
 springs of action, — to grapple with the fugitive thoughts 
 and impulses of a deceitful heart: and therefore de- 
 mands not only earnestness and vigilance, but a fre- 
 quent retm-n to the duty, until om- earthly warfare shall 
 be accomplished. In the commencement of this dis- 
 course, we spoke of the mysterious nature of the power 
 which we possess, of making ourselves the distinct ob- 
 ject of contemplation. No less mysterious does it ap- 
 pear in all the details of its operation. We have not 
 only the power of examining ourselves, but we may de- 
 ceive ourselves ; yea, far more truly and effectually, than 
 we can succeed in deceiving others. If the power of 
 self-examination, when honestly exercised, enables us to 
 penetrate deeper into the heart, than can any other eye 
 but God's, it also exposes us, when imperfectly or dis- 
 honestly performed, to a delusion, which the victim 
 thereof is the last to detect and own. When the Prophet 
 speaks of the deceitfulness of the heart, he utters no 
 figurative language, but a literal and melancholy truth, 
 dictated by the Spirit of Him, who knows us better than 
 
108 
 
 we know ourselves. For this, if for no other reason, it 
 is evident that the duty of self-inspection must be fre- 
 quently perfonned. Let us not be surprised to find that 
 the same ground must be travelled over again, — the 
 same woimd probed again, — the same lusts chastised 
 again. The treacherous calm of the mind must be dis- 
 tm'bed by a frequent renewal of the spiritual conflict, if 
 we would escape the shame, and the doom, of the self- 
 deceiver. let us remember that in this work, we are 
 toiling for an object. Let no disappointments discourage 
 us : let no self-love defraud us of that object. The heart 
 must be sanctified and cleansed, before it can be a tem- 
 ple meet for the residence of God's Spirit. With un- 
 tiring diligence, prepare it for the reception of this hea- 
 venly Visitant ; provoke Him not, by your neglect, to 
 leave you to the unsubdued power of yom- corruptions ! 
 
 Lastly: — the duty must be performed with earnest 
 prayer for the light and power of the Holy Spirit. 
 
 Our utmost diligence will be um-ewarded with success, 
 imless the Spirit enlighten us to understand His own 
 truth. What though it be the everlasting truth of God ; 
 what though it be uttered in the simplest of all lan- 
 guage ; what though it fall upon the ear, at one time 
 in terms of the most tender persuasion, and again, in 
 tones of startling denunciation, it will yet fail of being 
 effectual, unless the judgment be guided by Him, who 
 alone can lead us into all truth. His light must shine 
 into our darkened understandings, and give life and 
 meaning to the letter of the Divine Word, or the very 
 wisdom of God wiU be foolishness imto us. And when 
 the soul turns in upon herself, and goes down into the 
 dark and loathsome abodes of her own corruptions, then 
 
109 
 
 especially will she need the influences of this heavenly 
 Agent. Without these influences, her love for her own 
 will lead her to put darkness for light, and to call evil 
 good. The very sins which God condemns will either be 
 justified as virtues, or their existence denied ; and that 
 polluted nature, which, in the judgment of G-od, needs to 
 be renewed and sanctified, will be regarded as needing 
 no change ; nay, will be elevated in his own esteem, in 
 all that is virtuous and honorable and noble. Unless 
 the Spirit's wisdom guide you, and the Spirit's influences 
 govern you, the beneficial purposes of self-examination 
 will be utterly defeated ; for instead of being conducted 
 to the salutary conclusion that you are poor and blind 
 and naked, the Prince of darkness will lead you captive 
 with the fancy, that you are rich, and increased in goods, 
 and have need of nothing. 
 
 We now pass to the second branch of our subject, viz., 
 the benefits arising from self-examination. 
 
 1. The immediate benefit resulting from the faithful 
 discharge of this duty, will be the knowledge of our- 
 selves. 
 
 It is the want of a proper self-knowledge, — an over- 
 estimate of ourselves, which destroys the harmony be- 
 tween the soul and God, and which, if not corrected in 
 time, must forever exclude us from the peace of heaven. 
 Human pride and self-love can have no sympathy with 
 the lowliness of those spirits, who bow in unspeakable 
 humility and self-abasement before the brightness of Je- 
 hovah's glory. The corruptions of the human heart 
 must be discovered, and acknowledged, and cleansed 
 by the grace of a compassionate God, for they will min- 
 ister no happiness to the sod ia that world, where ail 
 io« 
 
110 
 
 is pure, and holy, and humble. And this indispensable 
 knowledge of ourselves wiU never be obtained, so long 
 as the duty of self-examination is neglected. From the 
 faithful discharge of this duty alone, directed and 
 blessed by the Spirit of God, wiU the soul ever learn to 
 judge rightly of herself, and of the character and re- 
 quirements of Hiin, before whose tribunal we must ap- 
 pear at last. 
 
 2. A self-examination, such as we hare described, will 
 lead the sinner to a glad acceptance of the Lord Jesus 
 as his Saviour. 
 
 The reason why Christ and His service is so exten- 
 sively rejected, is that men do not feel their need of 
 Him; and this insensibility to their greatest want, 
 springs from an ignorance of themselves. As long as 
 they can discern any fancied goodness in themselves, it 
 will serve to encourage self-dependence, and close the 
 door of the heart against the Savioiu-'s gi-ace and love. 
 
 Now it is the precise office of the Law, as a school- 
 master, to lead us unto Cheist; and this blessed result 
 is accomplished, by making the sinner feel his own guilt 
 and pollution, that he may take Jesus as his Righteous- 
 ness : — ^by making him feel his weakness, that Christ 
 may be his strength ; — ^by making him feel his utter 
 emptiness of all qualification for God's favor and the 
 blessedness of heaven, that he may receive of the ful- 
 ness of the Saviour's grace. Examine yom-self tho- 
 roughly and frequently by the piercing light of God's 
 Law ; it is holy, just, and true. It cannot deceive you : 
 and whilst it leads you to a true estimate of yourself, it 
 will also lead you to see the worth and the glory of the 
 Son of God. Its discipline may be painful and humbling ; 
 
Ill 
 
 it will pour contempt upon all your pretensions, and 
 beat down every proud thought, and lay you helpless 
 and condemned before the tribunal of a righteous God. 
 But 0, it is just here, and here alone, that instead of 
 the curses of the Law, you will hear the still small voice 
 of the Spirit, pointing you, in the language of comfort 
 and of love, to the Lamb of God. It is here, and here 
 alone, that the Saviour will meet you with His great 
 and precious promises of forgiveness and salvation. It 
 is here that the gracious Redeemer will take you by the 
 hand, and lift you from the dust, and fill you with all 
 joy and peace in believing. When Cheist comes to the 
 soul, He comes not to call the righteous, but the sinner, 
 to repentance. The proud he will «ver regard afar off; 
 but the hearts of the contrite and lowly ones are His 
 chosen abode. Better, far better, to be thus led through 
 the paths of a godly sorrow, to the source of all spiritual 
 comfort, than to be overwhelmed at last by the eternal 
 curses of a righteous Law, when there shall be no ad- 
 vocate to plead for you, and the door of promise, and 
 of hope, shall be forever closed. 
 
 Examine yourselves, lest a false hope deceive you; 
 and when the vnnds and the waves of tribulation and 
 anguish beat upon your soul, you find, when too late, 
 that, instead of the Rock of Ages, you have built upon 
 a foundation of sand. 
 
0amon B. 
 
 FORSAKE ALL FOR CHRIST. 
 
 St. Luke xiv. 33. — " So likewise, lohosoever he he of you that 
 forsaketh not all that he hath, he cannot he My disciple." 
 
 The text reminds us of a peculiarity in the religion of 
 Christ, viz : that He never attempted to gain proselytes, 
 by holding out false inducements, or by disguising the 
 terms of discipleship. He never allured any to a ser- 
 vice, of whose hardships and difficulties they might after- 
 wards complain, — by concealing any portion of the 
 truth, or by mitigating the terms of salvation. Had He 
 been so disposed. He could have drawn around Him 
 crowds of devoted admirers. But this formed no part 
 of His design. He came to seek and to save that which 
 was lost. True to His purpose, and like a faithful phy- 
 sician of the soul, He neglected no means for the ac- 
 complishment of an enterprise, so benevolent and so 
 important. He carefully told His followers what sac- 
 rifices they must make, and what obstacles they must 
 encounter. When one said unto Him, " Lord ! I will 
 follow Thee, whithersoever Thou goest," Jesus replied, 
 
113 
 
 " The foxes have holes, the birds of the air have nests, 
 but the Son of Man hath not where to lay His head." 
 As if He had said, ' Be not hasty in thy words : count 
 well the cost of identifying thyself with such a Mas- 
 ter.' So too, when James and John sought for exalted 
 stations in Christ's kingdom, the Saviour told them 
 they could not be aware of the nature of such a request. 
 " Can ye drink of the cup that I shall drink of, and be 
 baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with ?" 
 By such a question, He meant to teach them and us, 
 that eminence in the Christian life was to be attained 
 through eminent hardships, — ^many struggles with the 
 powers of darkness, and indwelling corruption ; and that 
 the nearer we would get to Christ, the greater must be 
 the conflict. Of a similar nature is the declaration of 
 the text, — " Whosoever he be of you, that forsaketh not 
 all that he hath, he cannot be My disciple^" 
 
 There are many, perhaps, who have read this text of 
 Scripture, and have turned from it, as some of the early 
 followers of Christ did from Him, with the reply, 
 " This is a hard saying, who can hear it ?" There is 
 nothing in it which furnishes a basis for a compromise. 
 It presents no alternative to the half-hearted inquirer, 
 other than a total abandonment of all for Christ, or, a 
 decided rejection of the terms of salvation. There is a 
 wisdom, as well as mercy, in this ; for the human heart 
 is ever seeking some way in which God and the world 
 may both be served. It is not always easy to persuade 
 men that God means just what He says, and all that 
 He says ; and hence the duties of our religion are laid 
 down in all their absoluteness and positiveness. We 
 find but very little, if anything, in the Bible, that would 
 
114 
 
 check an excessive devotion; — that being a fault, to 
 which we are by no means liable. But its pages are 
 crowded with precepts and admonitions, expressly in- 
 tended to stimulate us to an gntire consecration of our- 
 selves and ours, unto the Redeemer, who has purchased 
 us with His own blood. Such a course is plainly point- 
 ed out by the text. It contains no reservations or lim- 
 itations. Everything is to be left for Christ. He 
 asks for all, or nothing. 
 
 We propose to place before you the nature of this 
 demand, and one or two arguments for its perfect rea- 
 sonableness. 
 
 1. All our means of usefulness are to be consecra- 
 ted to the promotion of the Saviour's glory. 
 
 It matters not in what these means consist, — ^whether 
 it be money, time, opportunities, or talents, — all are to 
 be devoted to the one great purpose, of glorifying the 
 Redeemer. This is to be the ultimate object of every 
 act, — the basis of every plan. And let us not be 
 charged with extravagance, in thus extending the obli- 
 gations of the Christian over every purpose of his life. 
 To whom are we indebted for life itself, and its con- 
 stant preservation, and for all the inferior comforts 
 which filled up the days of oiu- impenitence ? Christ 
 watched over the hours of our helpless infancy. He 
 was about our bed and about our path, and threw over 
 us the shield of His love, whilst living in forgetfulness 
 of God, and indulging in the pleasiures of sin. It was 
 because Christ had died, and had risen again, and stood 
 as our Intercessor at the throne of mercy, that our day 
 of grace has been prolonged, and every want supplied. 
 AU that we have is the purchase of Christ's sufferings 
 
115 
 
 and death. The nvimberless comforts of life are no un- 
 unportant part of our redemption. And we are bound 
 to use them all in making known the kindness and love 
 of the great God our Saviour. 
 
 Every one, Brethren, has his object in life, — ^the great 
 end for which he toils. But how various are these ! 
 How little of harmony is there in the movements of this 
 living world ! How often do the creatures of God cross 
 each other's path in the pursuit of theii' separate de- 
 signs ! How little of the spirit of Cheist appears in 
 their actions ! How little of the glory of Christ forms 
 any part of their aims ! It is the design of the religion 
 of Jesus to correct such disorder ; and it can only be 
 done by imiting the human family in one great effort to 
 exalt the Redeemer in the earth, until His glory shall 
 spread from pole to pole, and from the rising to the 
 setting sun. 
 
 2. We are to abandon every source of pleasure for 
 Christ. 
 
 "We know that this will sound singular, and, to many, 
 incomprehensible. They, who are accustomed to resort 
 to the polluted fountains of the world for enjoyment, 
 can know nothing of the pure and rich delight which 
 flows from communion with Christ. It is a joy with 
 which a stranger intermeddleth not, — which finds it^ 
 source in the throne of God and the Lamb, far above 
 the contaminations of this sinful world. If the heart 
 ever swells with emotions of satisfaction, it should be 
 in contemplating the wonderful achievements of Redeem- 
 ing love. If satisfaction ever rises into rapture, it should 
 be when celebrating the praises of Him who hath loved 
 us. There is something in the love of Christ, so dis- 
 
116 
 
 intereste(3,-^-go unearthly, — so pure, that it is a strange 
 thing, when the soul which has once tasted of His 
 mercies, ever thinks of deserting Him. If the heart be 
 depressed with sorrow, — ^if disappointment extinguish 
 your fondest hopes, and you are constrained in the bit- 
 terness of your soul, to cry, " Who will shew us any 
 good?" go not to a flattering world for comfort; but 
 let the eye of faith be lifted still to Christ. The comfort 
 which He imparts is a bahn sufficient for every wound. 
 If the world present her seductions, and prosperity and 
 abundance are yours, let not these separate you from 
 the love of Christ. Receive them ; but enjoy them as 
 the gifts of Christ. Try to discern His compassion in 
 the greatest, and in the smallest, of your earthly bless- 
 ings,- — ^lest your affections be distracted, and He curse 
 your blessings, and send upon you the rod of His chas- 
 tisements. 
 
 And so too, vidth the soul that is seeking for a hope 
 in Christ. You will never find it, my Hearer, if you 
 approach Him with a divided heart. The world must 
 be resolutely renounced, and the heart cleansed from 
 every inordinate worldly affection, before it can be a man- 
 sion fit for the indwelling of the Saviour. If you wish 
 for His smile, and an assm-anee of His love, that love 
 must be valued above every thing else. Christ must 
 reign iu your heart, as well as dwell in it ; and He will 
 have no competitor. There is but one Saviour. 
 
 3. We must abandon every other ground of depen- 
 dence for our hope of heaven, save the merits of Christ. 
 
 Easy as this may seem to some, who are satisfied with 
 regarding simply the theory of Christian faith, it is, in- 
 deed, the most dif&cult of all the practical rules of our 
 
in 
 
 religion. It is one thing to admit this doctrine into our 
 creed, and admire its consistency in the plan of salva- 
 tion, and quite another to have the heart brought under 
 its controlling and sanctifying power. It is one thing 
 to look at it, from a distance, as we would gaze at some 
 feature in a beautiful landscape, and quite another, to 
 realize it, as the corner-stone, upon which Ave are to 
 build our spiritual hopes. It is only when this principle 
 becomes a practical rule of life, that it can be of any 
 benefit to the soul. A dependence upon the merits of 
 the Saviour, — a full and unqualified faith in the suf- 
 ficiency of His atoning sacrifice, is the very last act of 
 the reluctant soul in becoming reconciled to God. None 
 will ever know the difficulty of thus submitting to the 
 righteousness of God, until the soul is brought to trem- 
 ble for her safety, as exposed to the wrath of God. 
 Never will such a dependence be valued, as it should 
 be, until, under a conviction of sin's defiling and con 
 demning power, we are constrained to flee, as an hun; 
 ble supplicant, to Jesus. Salvation by His blood ! 
 it is a new thought to the soul, mourning imder an op- 
 pressive sense of guilt. As the idea first dawns upon 
 the spiritual understanding, it comes like the cooling 
 breeze of heaven over a parched and biu-ning desert. 
 None can tell but those who have experienced its bless- 
 edness, how precious the Redeemer is to tte. believing 
 soul, — what a holy calm and peace are shed over every 
 faculty, as she casts herself implicitly and entirely upon 
 Christ, and goes up through this wilderness of sui, 
 leaning upon the arm of her Beloved. When, there- 
 fore, we ask you to " forsake all" for Christ, by aban- 
 doning every other dependence for your hope of heaven, 
 11 
 
118 
 
 we are extorting you to no easy task. A true sense of 
 guilt, if left to its own workings, will drive the soul any- 
 where than to God the Saviour. The soul will cling to 
 any other hope, until the omnipotent grace of God ena- 
 bles her to see the beauty, the fitness, and the necessity, 
 of Christ. Then, and not till then, shall we know the 
 luxury of that " good hope through gi-ace," which anchors 
 the soul steadfastly upon the promises of God. 
 
 But the warfare is not accomplished, in this first act 
 of faith on the part of the believer. It is but just be- 
 gun. Daily has he reason to pray, " Lord ! increase my 
 faith !" The more he becomes acquainted with the sins 
 of his heart, the stronger will be his convictions of guilt,— 
 the deeper will be his repentance. Then it is, that Sa- 
 tan, and an unbelieving heart step in, and tempt him to 
 doubt the sufficiency of Christ to save such a sinner as 
 he is. The struggle with the " Accuser" is again re- 
 newed, mitil a stronger and a living faith once more 
 rises, triumphant over all, and Christ is again received 
 as the sinner's sole dependence. Eepentance towards 
 God and faith towards our Lord Jesus Christ, is the 
 lesson which the believer will be ever learning imtil 
 faith is swallowed up m sight. It is a painful conflict 
 to the Christian. It is a part of that tribulation through 
 which he is to pass on his way to heaven. But is a 
 purifying process; every victory of this kind makes 
 Christ more precious, — convinces us more and more, 
 of the necessity of forsaking all other dependence, for 
 Christ. My Christian brother ! this is the work to 
 which you axe exhorted, as a true disciple of the Re- 
 deemer. Look to God, in the hoiir of darkness and of 
 i doubt, for strength to tell your great accuser, "Jesns 
 
119 
 
 shed His blood for me 1" Forsake all for Christ ; and 
 let the thought, that it is your privilege so to do, kindle 
 within you a fervent affection, and move you to a do 
 voted service. Nothing else can sustain the soul in the 
 storms of life. It will be youi' sole reliance on the bed 
 of death. Christ will be the theme of your song for- 
 ever. Eternity cannot exhaust the theme. 
 
 n. We proceed, in the second place, to state one or 
 two arguments for the reasonableness of our Saviour's 
 requirement. 
 
 1. The first and most obvious of these is, that Christ 
 left all for us. 
 
 Here, however, not only language, but even om' concep- 
 tions, fail us, when we attempt to speak of the matchless 
 condescension of the Eedeemer. The Inspired writers 
 themselves do not dilate upon so astonishing an instance 
 of the love of God. " So God loved the world," says 
 St. John, " that He gave His only-begotten Son !" And 
 St. Paul, in view of tJie same subject, exclaims, " the 
 depth of the riches, both of the wisdom and knowledge 
 of God ; how unsearchable are His judgments, and His 
 ways past finding out !" my Brethren, we must first 
 know what it is, to be surrounded from all eternity, 
 with the splendors of unspotted holiness, — to be the ob- 
 ject of praise and homage from that unnumbered host, 
 whose " Trisagion" rests not day and night! We 
 must be able to compass the fulness of Jehovah's happi 
 ness, before we can tell all which the Saviour left for 
 us. But He hesitated not to leave those abodes of 
 peace, to tabernacle in this world of blasphemies. He 
 came to give us the saving knowledge of the Truth; 
 but His voice fell upon ears that would not listen to in- 
 
120 
 
 struction, and hearts that had grown hard in sin. How 
 truly was He '• a man of sorrows !'' A manger was the 
 bu'th-place of our Redeemer. His was an humble and 
 laborious life, which attracted not the regards of the 
 great, the wise, and the noble of the earth ; and a death, 
 attended with every mark of infamy, closed the pro- 
 tracted sufferings of our atoning Lord. There was no 
 depth of humiliation to which He did not stoop. He 
 forsook all. 
 
 Examine the life of Christ. Is it grateful to the 
 heart to have kind acts acknowledged, and warm affec- 
 tions returned ? Is ingratitude umTersaUy branded as 
 the basest of crimes ? Christ foimd but few, among 
 those for whom He toiled and wept, who came to thank 
 Him for His love. Is companionship a delightful solace 
 amid the cares of life ? Jesus was much alone, and 
 almost always in the hour of His deepest grief Are 
 the sympathy and fidelity of friends, — especially when 
 those friends are few, — richly prized by the unfortunate 
 and the oppressed ? Jesus had a little band of follow- 
 ers, — ^His only pi'ofessed followers, — and one, who lay 
 in Hjs bosom. But in the horn* of His trial, " they all 
 forsook Him and fled." Is self-respect a natural, and 
 one of the strongest feelings of the mind ? Do we in- 
 stinctively resent any indignity inflicted upon our per- 
 son ? 0, it is enough to bring the blood of shame to 
 the cheek, as we read of the insults offered to the Son 
 of God in the judgTuent-hall of Pilate. To be scourged 
 and buffetted and spit upon ! Xone but the meek and 
 lowly Jesus could have borne it. Death, too, is a trial, 
 even to a good man. But the death of a slave, — a 
 malefactor, — a death of lingering torture, and the soul 
 
121 
 
 overwhelmed with her oion afflictions, — this was the cup 
 of bitterness which Jesus drained for us. 
 
 Is it strange that in return for such love, Christ 
 should demand a similar devotion in His disciples ? Is 
 there any earthly object to which the heart will cling, 
 when the Saviour pleads for a place in that heart ? 
 What is it that He asks you to leave ? A few perish- 
 ing trifles of the world, — purposes and plans which 
 must die with yoiu- parting breath, — pleasures which 
 never satisfy, and which often cannot be remembered 
 but with regret. True, — in return for these, He offers 
 you a life of conflict, but still a life of pleasm-e, for you 
 will be contending for your crown. He offers you a life 
 of penitence, but still a life of dependence and of faith, 
 which will bring the glories of the invisible world 
 around you. He offers you the blessings of a calm and 
 peaceful conscience, — a tranquil, if not triumphant death, 
 and a treasure in the heavens, which He will not aslc 
 you to forsake. 
 
 2. The demand of Cheist is reasonable, because of 
 the utter contrariety between the things of the world,, 
 and the things of God. 
 
 We cannot love the world, and love Christ too. 
 The Bible speaks so plainly on this point, that it wouldi 
 seem superfluous to press the point by argument. There 
 are many things, indeed, which the follower of Christ may 
 enjoy, in common with all his fellow-creatures. Eeligion 
 does not demand the sacrifice of our social affections, 
 neither does it abrogate the law of kindness, of affabili- 
 ty, — of courtesy to all. But it does require that in 
 mingling with the world, we should carry the spirit of 
 Christ with us, and indulge in nothing, of which we 
 11* 
 
122 
 
 should be ashamed to tell our Savioui", when kneeling at 
 His feet in prayer. It does require that we should shun 
 those places and occupations, which we cannot consis- 
 tently connect in our reflections, with the great subject 
 of our redemption by the blood of Jesus. On this sub- 
 ject, a warm heai't and a tender conscience are by far 
 the safest guides. Christ has left much, very much, of 
 the details of the Christian's life, to the honesty of the 
 Christian's conscience. "Judge therefore yourselves, 
 Brethren, that ye be not judged of the Lord." If yoiu- 
 mind is constantly reTolving the question, — " How far 
 may I indulge in the world, and yet escape pollution ?' 
 — surely, your heart cannot be whole with God. it 
 is safer to remember the words of the Lord Jesus, and 
 " forsake all" lest your dallying with doubtful pleasures 
 send leanness into your soul, and dim your hope of 
 heaven. There is a line, which you cannot pass, with- 
 out entering the territories of sin. But Chbist has not 
 told you where that line is. The Bible has not legis- 
 lated for the time-serving, the calculating, the lukewarm. 
 It is enough for the soul panting after holiness and 
 communion with God, to be told in general terms, that 
 the world is his foe, — ^that there is a deadly malice be- 
 neath her smile ; and he would rather deny himself a 
 hundred lawful gratifications, than be guilty of one act 
 that would offend his Saviour. There is then, — ^we re- 
 peat it, — an utter contrariety between the things of the 
 world and the things of God. " The friendship of the 
 world is enmity with God." Both of them cannot be 
 your masters. Have you not found this to be true, and 
 been forced to confess it with an aching heart ? When 
 you have insensibly become entangled in the concerns 
 
123 
 
 of the -world, have you not found it difficult to perform 
 youi' religions duties with your former satisfaction? 
 Whence is it, in such cases, that Oheist is so little iu 
 the thoughts, and so seldom on the lips ? Whence is 
 it, that to obtain a clear view of your inheritance above, 
 you have to struggle so hard with a flood of trifling and 
 ungodly emotions ? Whence is it, that before you can 
 recover the singleness of your affections, and an ele- 
 vated spirituality of mind, you must resolutely retire 
 from the world, and enter into your chamber, and shut 
 the doors about you? Do you need any other than this 
 practical argument, to convince you that you are travel- 
 ling upon enchanted ground ? that you need to be con- 
 stantly on your guard against the snares of Satan? 
 and that you cannot lay aside your armor, until you pass 
 the threshold of the world to come ? " Love not the 
 world, nor the things of the world." "K ye be risen 
 with Christ, set yoiu- affections on things above, not on 
 things on the earth." Forsake all for Christ, and thus 
 show that you are His disciple, and be able to say to 
 your Master, who looketh upon the heart, " Lord ! Thou 
 knowest all things, — Thou knowest that I love Thee." 
 
 3. Our last arg-ument is, that the Christian will be 
 abundantly rewarded for all that he may forsake. 
 
 He will be a gainer an hundred fold here ; and here- 
 after the full bliss of eternity will be his imperishable 
 reward. He has, indeed, his hours of sadness ; but he 
 has joys, too, deeper and pm-er than the world can ever 
 give. There are seasons when his Saviour draws near, 
 and gives him ample experiences of His love, — when He 
 condescends to hold intimate communion with the soul, 
 and imparts larger earnests of that inheritanec, which 
 
124 
 
 He will hereafter bestow in all its completeness. The 
 more we disencumber om-selves of the world, its plea- 
 sures, its interests, and its gares, the nearer will be the 
 Saviour's approach, and the sweeter and fuller will be 
 our foretaste of heavenly bliss. 
 
 And who, my Brethren, will venture to speak of those 
 things which eye hath not seen, which ear hath not 
 heaid, and which hare not entered iato the heart of 
 man, but which God hath prepared for them that love 
 Him ! Rich as are the Christian's enjoyments here, they 
 axe poor when compared with the perfect bliss of hea- 
 ven. Priceless as are his moments of communion with 
 Jesus here, they are not to be compared with that mo- 
 ment, which shall find him seated at his Lord's feet in 
 glory, joining in the everlasting doxology of ransomed 
 spirits. Then indeed will commence his full reward, — 
 never ending, and always increasing; the glories of 
 heaven expanding more and more upon his view, — 
 Christ more precious, — God more glorious, — ^the joys 
 of salvation more satisfying. And when countless ages 
 have rolled away, his will be the luxury of the thought, 
 that his eternity stiU stretches on, boundless in extent, 
 exhaustless in its resources of untold happiness ! 
 
 These, Brethren, are but a faint representation of 
 the believer's privileges. Are they not worth all, and 
 more than all, that the world can give ? Surely there 
 is something here, for which the soul may well bid adieu 
 to the transient gratifications of this life. And it is no 
 uncertain heritage. The covenant is well-ordered and 
 sure. God's word is pledged, that He will give all, and 
 more than all, that has been mentioned, to those who 
 seek theii' happiness in Him. '• Come ye out from 
 
125 
 
 amoBg them, and be ye separate, saith the Lord, and 
 touch not the unclean thmg ; and I will receive you, and 
 "will be a Father unto you, and ye shall be my sons and 
 daughters, saith the Lord Almighty." 
 
0£rmon 9. 
 
 NEITHER CLEAR NOR DARK. 
 
 Zechakiah XIV. 6, 7. — " And it shall come to pass in that day, 
 {hat the light shall not be clear nor dark : hut it ''shall be one day which 
 shall be known to the Lord, not day nor night ; but it shall come to 
 pass, that at evening time it shall be light." 
 
 Whatever obscurity may rest upon the Prophetic 
 Scriptures, the observant and thoughtful believer may 
 gather from the greater portion of them a light and 
 meaning, suificient for his guidance and instruction. Es- 
 pecially is this true, since Cheist, the Sun of Righteous- 
 ness, has arisen to illumine our darkness, fulfiling, in 
 His own person and kingdom, all that the Prophets 
 were inspired to foretell, and imparting clearness and 
 beauty to that which had otherwise remained dark and 
 perplexiag. The text is one of those passages of Holy 
 Scripture, of which it would be difficult to give a satis- 
 factory interpretation, were it not for the aid which we 
 derive from its partial fulfilment. This is true of almost 
 all those prophetic utterances, which speak of a coming 
 Saviour ; — they are sufficiently plain to sustain hope and 
 give energy to faith, — and yet so obscui'e as to keep the 
 
127 
 
 people of God in humble waiting upon Him for direction 
 in the path of Divine Knowledge. Let us examine the 
 text thus in the light of a past history ; — we shall find 
 in so doing, that what is already accomplished is re- 
 markably significant and clear, and that what is yet to 
 come to pass, may be known with sufficient distinctness 
 to awaken the Christian's joyful and triumphant expec- 
 tations. It is evident, from the connection of the pas- 
 sage before us, with the rest of the chapter, that it is 
 intended to describe the days of the Messiah. It wUl 
 be our endeavor, in the following discourse, to poiut out 
 a few particulars, in illustration of its meaniug, and to 
 direct your attention to a day still distant, when the 
 glory, of which it so obscurely speaks, shall break upon 
 the world ia its full and enduring splendor. 
 
 " In that day " — i. e., the day when Christ shall ap- 
 pear as the Deliverer and King of His people, " the light 
 shall not be clear nor dark." 
 
 1. We find this illustrated, in the first instance, in 
 the person of the Saviour Himself. 
 
 Prom His birth in the manger at Bethlehem, to the 
 moment when He shed His blood upon the Cross, there 
 was a mystery involving the person and acts of the Re- 
 deemer, impenetrable, except by a spiritual faith and 
 discernment. The manifestations of His character were 
 such as to excite, at one time, the wonder and the fear, 
 and at others, the bitter enmity of those who hated 
 Him and His pretensions; — and not unfrequently to 
 create perplexity in the minds of His faithful and loving 
 disciples. To the short-sightedness of unbelief and 
 spiritual ignorance, these manifestations appeared like 
 contradictions ;— and to the imperfectly instructed minds 
 
128 
 
 of His followers, the precepts and conduct of the Saviour 
 were often hard to be understood. It was the mingling 
 of light and darkness, — ^neither perfectly clear, nor per- 
 fectly dark; — ^neither night, nor day. On that glad 
 morning, when the world was called to rejoice in the 
 Advent of the Son of God to our world, a choir of an- 
 gels announced the gracious tidings, that the long pro- 
 mised Saviour, — the Deliverer of man from sia and 
 'death, was come. A fit retinue this, we think, to attend 
 upon the Son of the Highest, — ^the Mighty God, — the 
 King of glory. But we follow the Shepherds from the 
 plaius of Bethlehem, to the place where Jesus was born, 
 — and there, instead of being sm-rounded with the glories 
 of the upper world, or even with the comforts of this, 
 we find Him, to all appearance, a helpless babe, — ^like 
 any of the little ones of om- dying race, — ^ushered into 
 the world in the midst of the direst poverty, — ^with no 
 place in which to rest His head, save the cold and 
 cheerless manger. Can this be indeed He, of whom the 
 angels spake ? Is this the Lord of glory ? He, to 
 whose right arm we are to trust, for victory, and salva- 
 tion from the powers of Hell ? He, whom angels wor- 
 ship, — the Maker of all worlds, — upon whose shoulders 
 universal government is to rest ? Yes, it is He, " God 
 manifest in the flesh." But oh ! how strange must 
 such a scene as this have appeared to those who wit- 
 nessed it ! How wonderful the contrast between the 
 Hosannas, with which the glad tidings of His birth were 
 announced, and the humiliating circumstances in which 
 they found the Holy Child Jesus, swathed and cradled 
 amidst the beasts of the stall ! Had it not been for the 
 Divine directions, which led them thither, surely the 
 
129 
 
 shepherds never would have bent their steps to so humble 
 an abode, or dreamed of finding the Redeemer of the 
 ■world amidst such poverty and shame. Now in all this, 
 how great must have been the obscurity of the Divine 
 procedure, except to those who were much enlightened 
 with wisdom from on high. But obscure as it was, it 
 was not utter darkness ; — it was neither day, nor night. 
 The throng of angels, with their hymns of praise, ascrib- 
 ing glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace; 
 good will to men, — ^what was this, but an intimation of 
 the Divine nature of Him, of whom they sung ? And 
 the scene of the manger of Bethlehem, the poverty and 
 apparent weakness and dishonor, in which the Son of 
 God was brought into the world ;-^what was this, on 
 the other hand, but a manifest exhibition of His man- 
 hood ; Two truths here stood forth ;^^His Divinity and 
 His humanity ; But the light in which they were ex- 
 hibited, was not so clear, as to lead men to see at once, 
 that here was iadeed the great mystery of godliaess. 
 So stupendous a thought as this, so worthy of the Divine 
 mind, but so impossible to be comprehended by a finite 
 creature, the world was not yet prepared to grasp in 
 all its fulness. They saw it, as yet, only in the doubtful 
 light of a new-born truth. The light shined in the dark- 
 ness, but the darkness comprehended it not. 
 
 As the Saviour grew up to manhood, and prosecuted 
 the work of Redemption, we find manifold illustrations 
 of the same truth. At one time, we see the Saviour 
 speaking and acting, with aU the prerogatives of the 
 Godhead, — ^healing the sick with a word, — stilling the 
 raging tempest by His mere command, — ^imparting peace 
 and forgiveness of sins to the sinner's troubled con- 
 is 
 
130 
 
 science,— calling the silent dead from their graves. 
 Here was a work, evidently, which none, but one pos- 
 sessed of Divine power, could perform. The Divinity, 
 here again displayed itself, in characters, which, when 
 alone considered, cannot well be mistaken. The tokens 
 of the Godhead, it would seem to us, were sufficiently 
 plain in these miracles of His power and mercy to silence 
 the skepticism of unbelief, and extort the Hosannas of 
 the multitude. But consider again ; — ^they saw before 
 them, one, who, to all appearance, was but a man, — a 
 man, too, in the very humblest station in society ; — one, 
 who, though performing works which none but Grod 
 could do, — yet suffered, hungered, thirsted, wept. That 
 word of command, which raised the dead to life,— which 
 stilled the heaving billows, and spake comfart to the 
 Wounded conscience, proceeded^, from the lips of one, 
 who was born at Bethlehem ;— w&,s subject, in childhood, 
 to his parents at Nazareth, and had grown up to man's 
 estate, like any one among his friends and neighbors. 
 How dim, then, was the light in which they were called 
 to contemplate the great doctrine of our faith,-^-JBSus, 
 — ^the Son of God, and yet the Son of man. His works 
 of power declared Him clearly to be God. Here in- 
 deed was a blaze of nnmingled light; — ^but then came 
 the dark and perplexing cloud over their faithless minds ; 
 " Is not this Jesus — ^the son of Joseph, whose brethren 
 we know ? and his sisters, are they not with ns ?" His 
 ciaiiii« to be God, and the clear evidence that He was a 
 man, seemed to conffict together, and contradict ieach 
 other. We, who live in the fuller light and instructions 
 of this Spirit, and who own Him, and trust in Him, ia§ 
 our Savidnr, can see these two aspects, harmoiiiously 
 
131 
 
 united in the God-man, as the necessary attributes of 
 Him, who is to save us from our sins, and iatercede for 
 us with the Father. But to them, it was as yet, com- 
 paratively an unexplained mystery. They had light 
 enough for faith, and believing hope ; enough to con- 
 demn them for rejecting His pure instructions, and re- 
 sisting His claims ; but it was far from being, either 
 that clearness of evidence which we possess, or that 
 which will be displayed, when Christ shall come again 
 in His glory. It was neither clear, nor dark ; neither 
 day nor night. 
 
 The same is true of the Saviour's declarations con- 
 cerning Himself, as He gradually unfolded to the Jews 
 His character and claims. We can discover the dim- 
 ness of the light, in which they were permitted to be- 
 hold Him, by the repeated questions which they ad- 
 dressed to Him, as to who He was, and the authority 
 by which He acted. In answering these questions, 
 Christ does not enter into any lengthened explanation 
 of the difficulties which must necessarily and /orever be 
 connected with the mystery of His person. He does 
 not qualify one truth by another, but states them each 
 distinctly, in all their prominence and fulness. Hence 
 we hear Him, at one time, speaking in the plainest terms 
 of His equality and oneness with the Father, — " I and 
 my Father are one." We hear Him alluding to the 
 glory which He had with the Father before the world 
 was. We hear Him claiming self-existence and eternal 
 being, in assuming the incommunicable name of Jeho- 
 vah, — I AM. So well did the Jews understand what 
 He meant by this language, that they undertook to 
 
132 
 
 stone Him for blasphemy. If they had wMsunderstood, 
 could not the Saviour have corrected their error ? 
 
 But then again, we hear Him speaking in His suffer- 
 ing humanity, as a man of sorrows and acquainted with 
 grief; with touching pathos declaring that the Son of 
 man had not where to lay His head. In the struggles 
 of Gethsemane, we hear Him exclaiming, " now is my 
 soul troubled, — my soul is exceeding sorrowful, even 
 unto death." In that houi- of darkness, He draws 
 around Him more closely the little band of His disci- 
 ples, as though He could avail Himself of their sympa- 
 thy and love, — rebuking them in tones of the tenderest 
 reproach, — " will ye also go away ?" The man Christ 
 Jesus, was here revealed as plainly, as He had before 
 spoken of His Divinity. Each doctrine stood forth in 
 its own light, to teach us that He is indeed very God 
 and very man, — the Saviour that we need. But the light 
 which was then shed upon this great doctrine, was, as 
 yet, but the first dawning of the opening day. The dis- 
 ciples of Christ cleaved to Him with an affectionate and 
 docile faith in all His instructions ; but still their minds 
 were, at times, bewildered and perplexed by these 
 seeming contradictions. When He spake of His power 
 and glory, they gathered about Him in exulting hope, 
 ready to crown Him as their King ; and then, when they 
 witnessed His grief, and tears, and the power of His 
 foes, in wondering amazement and unbelieving fear, they 
 all forsook Him and fled. So dim and indistinct was 
 the light of this morning of om* Redemption, " neither 
 clear nor dark ; neither perfect night, nor perfect day." 
 And oh ! in what redoubled darkness was that day 
 shrouded, when Jesus passed to the consummation of 
 
133 
 
 His great work, and expired upon the Cross ! To their 
 uninstructed minds, it was almost a total eclipse of the 
 little light which they had hitherto enjoyed. Their 
 Saviour die ! He who claimed to be the Lord of Life 
 and Glory, Himself the victim of death and the grave ! 
 How wonderful ! How unintelligible ! what an apparent 
 disappointment of every fond hope ! And yet even 
 then, it was not all darkness. One ray of light still 
 penetrated the otherwise profound gloom of this dark- 
 est hour. Their trembling hearts were still sustained 
 by the frequent declarations of the Saviour, that on the 
 third day He should rise again. Here was a gleam of 
 hope, to shed its ray of light over the clouds and dark- 
 ness, which surrounded the Divine dealings. It was 
 enough to keep them from sinking into utter despair. 
 It led them to keep their eyes directed to the place 
 where the body of their beloved Lord was entombed 
 still lingering about His sepulchre, with some undefined, 
 expectations of relief from this saddest of all their trials. 
 Thus through every stage of the Redeemer's work, we 
 find an ample illustration of the prophetic language of 
 the text, " The light was neither clear nor dark, — ^neither 
 day nor night." 
 
 2. The sentiment of the passage has another instruc- 
 tive application to the whole period of tbe Gospel Dis- 
 pensation. At no time has it been perfectly clear or 
 perfectly dark. The history of the Redeemer's Church 
 abounds in exemplifications of this truth. The fires of 
 a bitter persecution have many a time, reduced her 
 numbers and her strength. Enemies within herself 
 have greatly endangered her prosperity and her very 
 existence. False doctrine, superstition, and immorality, 
 
 12* 
 
134 
 
 have most sadly defaced her glory. But never has the 
 Lord been without a chosen remnant, — a people to show 
 forth His praise on the earth, — to shed over the gross 
 darkness of the world, the reflected light of His holi- 
 ness and glory. And were it not for the inspired lan- 
 guage in which these vicissitudes are distinctly foretold, 
 the believer would not know upon what to build his 
 hopes for the final triumph of the Gospel. But by look- 
 ing into the mirror of God's word, he sees that the 
 Church is still living in the twilight only, of a great and 
 glorious day ; that she must be content to struggle on 
 amidst discipline and suffering, till the day when her 
 Lord shall again appear for her complete deliverance 
 and salvation. 
 
 3. But the text has a third application to the cii'cum- 
 stances of the individual believer. With him, the light 
 is neither clear, nor dark. Compared with that cloud- 
 less day, in which he shall behold God's face in right- 
 eousness, it is neither night, nor day. His knowledge 
 is imperfect ; He sees but through a glass darkly. And 
 the worship which he is able to render, is but the lisp- 
 ing of an infant tongue, compared with the song, which, 
 like the sound of many waters, proceeds from the ten 
 thousand times ten thousand, who are before the throne; 
 How little do we know of the riches of our Immanuel's 
 love, — ^that love which brought Him from the bosom of 
 the Father, — which sustained Him amidst the agonies of 
 the Cross, and which now intercedes for us at the right 
 hand of the Father ! How little do we know of Hear 
 Ten, of that far more exceeding weight of glory, with 
 which the soul of the believer will be clothed, when 
 this mortal shall put on immortality. 
 
135 
 
 Look too, at the outward circumstances of the Chris- 
 tian. How full of changes and uncertainty ! To day, 
 happiness and prosperity beaming upon him, the provi- 
 dence of G-od filling his heart with joy and gladness ; 
 to-morrow perhaps, in danger of being stripped of every 
 earthly comfort, — the brightness of his day almost 
 eclipsed in the darkness of his privation and fears. How 
 many of us have had occasion to tremble and weep, and 
 almost stumble and fall, amidst the strangeness of the 
 Almighty's dealings with us. Afflictions in every shape 
 are the Christian's lot. Sickness and bereavement veil 
 in tears and gloom, the happiness of the domestic cir- 
 cle. Riches and comforts take to themselves wings, and 
 fly away, and leave us to poverty and want. In general, 
 it is not difficult for the believer to be resigned to this, 
 knowing that man is born to trouble, as the sparks fly 
 upward. But often. Oh ! how often, do we exclaim with 
 the prophet, " Righteous art thou Lord, when 1 plead 
 with Thee ,• yet let me talk of Thy judgments." So un- 
 expected and obscure are His dispensations, that we 
 would fain seek to know the reasons of His doings; 
 but it is too hard for us ; our light is not sufficient, — 
 and sometimes, in oin- deepest sorrows, we must sit 
 down in silence with the promise, " what thou knowest 
 not now, thou shalt know hereafter." Throughout their 
 journey in life, the people of God find that clouds and 
 darkness are still round about Him ; His way is in the 
 sea, and His path in the great waters, and His footsteps 
 are not known. 
 
 The same is true of the Christian's inward expe- 
 riences. At one time, there seems not a cloud between 
 him and the Sun of Righteousness ; at another he walks 
 
136 
 
 in darkness, and sees no Kght. At one time, he can 
 rest, with the calmness of a peaceful hope, upon the 
 promises of the Redeemer ; at another, he feels no con- 
 fidence in appropriating a single promise ; and his soul 
 is filled with the fiery darts of Satan. But even ia his 
 brightest hour, it is not perfect day. He is still sensi- 
 ble of weakness and of sin, and longs to be unclothed, 
 to depart and to be with Jesus. And in his darkest 
 hour, it is not perfect night. There is yet the linger- 
 ings of a feeble hope in the bosom of the most despond- 
 ing Christian, — a hope, which he would not abandon for 
 the wealth of worlds, and which will yet, by the grace 
 of God, spring up into believing assurance and joy. 
 
 We have thus endeavored to open to you the mean- 
 ing of this portion of our text, in its varied application 
 to the times of the Messiah, or the Gospel day. We 
 proceed now, briefly, to the consideration of the rest of 
 the passage. " But it shall be one day," says the Proph- 
 et, " which shall be known to the Lord." 
 
 Here then, is the faith and the patience of the Saints. 
 However feeble may be the light, or however oppres- 
 sive and perplexing the obscurity, to us, we are assured, 
 that every event is ordered and controlled by the in- 
 finite wisdom and love of God. Over all this appa- 
 rent confusion, we are comforted with the thought that 
 the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth. It is a part of that 
 Divine scheme, which His omniscient mind contrived. 
 His watchful eye is never removed from its operations ; 
 and He will continue to preside over the gradual de- 
 velopment of His purposes, till they shall ripen, to the 
 praise and glory of His grace. We can see this in the 
 past ; and as we see Him briaging light out of darkness. 
 
137 
 
 it should strengthen our trust in Him for all that is yet 
 to befall us. How gloriously was the wisdom of God 
 vindicated, in all that afflicted the minds of the sorrow- 
 ing disciples of Jesus ! It was dark and inscrutable to 
 them at the time, but when the Spirit was poured out 
 upon them from on high, and they saw in a clearer light 
 the designs of God, — ^when the words of Christ, and all 
 the acts of His redeeming love, passed in review before 
 them, how must they have bowed in adoring wonder 
 before Him, who had thus performed " His work. His 
 strange work, and brought to pass His act. His strange 
 act." They could then, in the strength of an enlightened 
 faith, behold in the face of the man Cheist Jesus, the 
 glory of the Only Begotten of the Father. They could 
 then discern the wisdom of God in the mystery of god- 
 liness ; that it became Him, for whom are all things, and 
 by whom are all things, in bringing many sons unto glo- 
 ry, to make the Captain of their salvation perfect through 
 sufferings ; and inasmuch as the children are partakers 
 of flesh and blood, that He likewise Himself should take 
 part of the same ; that through death. He might destroy 
 him that had the power of death. In the Cross of Je- 
 sus, they could discern the power of God, and the wis- 
 dom of God. 
 
 And so in all the vicissitudes of His Chui-ch, it is a 
 day perfectly known unto the Lord. All her circum- 
 stances of adversity or prosperity have not passed un- 
 noticed by her ever-living Head and King. When Zion 
 in her affliction has said, — " the Lord hath forsaken me, 
 and my Lord hath forgotten me," — ^then has He spoken 
 comfortably unto her, — '• Behold, I have graven thee up- 
 
on the palms of my hands, thy walls are continually be- 
 fore me." 
 
 And what an abiding source of comfort is it to the be- 
 liever, when entangled amidst the difficulties of his con- 
 flicts, to know that what is darkness to him, is all light 
 to the Lord, — ^that what may seem to him the crushing 
 hand of God's displeasure, is the tender chastisement of 
 of His love ; — ^that through pain, and sorrow, bereave- 
 ment, and poverty, he is being led by his Saviour, to 
 riches and honor, — a kingdom and a crown. How beau- 
 tifully expressive of this humble trust in the watchful 
 guardianship of God, is the language of the patient and 
 submissive Job. In the depth of his multiplied afflic- 
 tions, he lost that sensible presence of God, which is so 
 precious to the soul. " Behold," he says, " I go forward, 
 but He is not there ; and backwards, but I cannot per- 
 ceive Him ; — on the left hand, where He doth work, but 
 I cannot behold Him ; — He hideth Himself on the right 
 hand, that I cannot see Him. But He knoweth the way 
 that I take ;-^-when He hath tried me, I shall come forth 
 as gold." Beautiful exhibition of triumphant faith ! a 
 faith which cleaves to God, amidst tears and anguish, 
 and when the soul is groping in the very darkness and 
 shadow of death ! 
 
 But finally ; our text assures us in conclusion, that 
 this state of obscurity is not to contiQue forever. " It 
 shall come to pass, that at evening time it shall be light." 
 The day of doubt and faith, and fear and hope, shall 
 have its close. It has had its morning,; — and we have rea- 
 son to believe that it has passed its meridian, — and that 
 the shadows of the evening are fast gathering about us, 
 who live in these latter days. How soon, it is noffoi* 
 
13^ 
 
 us to know ; Mt soon, we know, the day of the world's 
 probation shall he ended ; — time shall he no longer ; — 
 and then, at its eventide, and over its darkest hour, 
 there shall break forth upon the people of God, the re- 
 fulgent light of a great and glorious and eternal day, — 
 light without any darlmess, — a light before which every 
 doubt shall vanish, — every fear subside,^and faith and 
 hope shall be swallowed up in perfect love, in the clear 
 vision of God. It is called distinctly " the day of the 
 revelation of Jesus Christ ;" — a day in which the Lord 
 Jesus shall be revealed from Heaven with His mighty 
 angels. Yes, the light of that day shall reveal Jesus as 
 He is, — the majesty of the eternal Son of God beaming 
 forth from His glorified body. There will then be no 
 longer any doubt that He is indeed the mighty God, 
 when every eye shall see Him in His glory, and shall 
 hear that voice pronouncing the doom of an assembled 
 world. In the light of that day, the Church of the Re- 
 deemer shall be all glorious. Zion shall awake, and 
 shake herself from the dust, and put on her beautiful 
 garments. She shall be purified from all her defile- 
 ments, and none shall enter therein, but they which are 
 written in the Lamb's book of life. And the believer, 
 too, shall be with Jesus, and shall see Him, and shall 
 hear from His own blessed lips, the assurance of for- 
 giveness, and a complete salvation. He shall no longer 
 step tremblingly in a straight and narrow way, — but in 
 the freedom of a soul delivered forever from the bond- 
 age of sin, he shall joyfully follow the Lamb whither- 
 soever He goeth. And oh ! with what grateful praise, 
 will he look back, in the light of that day, upon all the 
 way through which his Lord has led him, and thank 
 
140 
 
 Him for every pain he suffered, and for every tear he 
 shed. The love of Christ for His people shall then be re- 
 vealed and felt in all its tenderness. " God Himself 
 shall be with them, and shall be their God. He shall 
 wipe away all tears from their eyes, — and there shall 
 be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither 
 shall there be any more pain, for the former things are 
 passed away." 
 
Sermon 10. 
 
 CHRIST THE FOUNDATION. 
 
 1 CoH. III. 11. — "For other foundation can no man lay, than 
 that is laid, which is Jesus Christ." 
 
 Divisions in the Church seem to have originated 
 among the Christians at Corinth. It was here that pro- 
 fessed believers began to classify and arrange them- 
 selves under human leaders, and to assume human dis- 
 tinctions in religion. One said, " I am of Paul ;" — an- 
 other, " I, of ApoUos ;" — another, " I, of Cephas ;" — anr 
 other, " I, of Christ." The Apostle, especially in the 
 first three chapters of this Epistle, strongly rebukes 
 them for this course of procedure. He shows them .that 
 it springs from a carnal or fleshly mind, — a mind still 
 imder the control of its natural instincts, — ^not guided 
 by the Spirit of God, to discern that there is one ILord, 
 one Faith, one Baptism, and, of course, that the child- 
 ren of God constitute but one universal, undivided, house- 
 hold. He reminds them that Paul, and ApoUos, and 
 Peter were servants of the same common Lord, preached 
 the same Gospel, — ^were not divided from each other, 
 
 13 
 
142 
 
 as heads of different religious sects ; — ^mucli less oppo- 
 sed to each other ; — and finally, that however many, or 
 influential, may be the human teachers in the Church, 
 they were all the commissioned messengers of one Di- 
 vine Master, who alone is to be regarded as the Head 
 and infallible Guide to His people, — and in whom they 
 were to be united by the Spirit, as one fold, under one 
 Shepherd. 
 
 The Apostle thus sets forth Christ, as the centre of 
 union to all believers, under the most appropriate and in- 
 structive figure of & foundation. " For other foundation 
 can no man lay, than that is laid, which is Jesus Christ." 
 Now the members of the Church at Corinth, were really 
 attempting to do this. Instead of regarding the Apos- 
 tles and themselves, as lively stones of one spiritual fab- 
 ric, built upon Christ as their common foimdation, they 
 were laying separate foundations of their own. Some, 
 building upon Paul ; others, upon Apollos ; others, upon 
 Cephas, (or Peter,) and others, again, upon Christ; — 
 thus, instead of one, undivided, universal, and harmo- 
 nious, body of believers, animated by one Spirit, and 
 striving together for the one Faith, and seeking the glory 
 of their one Divine Lord, they were separating them- 
 selves into rival sects, putting Paul, and Apollos, and 
 Peter, upon a level with Christ, — tearing up from its 
 very foundations, the glorious Temple of the one liv- 
 ing and true Cod, and substituting for it a multitude 
 of human fabrics, built upon the sandy foundation of an 
 attachment to human leaders, and submission to their 
 fallible guidance. 
 
 The term which the Apostle here uses, in designating 
 the relation of Christ to the Church, is an architectural 
 
143 
 
 one, and refers to that which is the lowest part of a 
 building, and on which the whole superstructure rests. 
 It is a term, however, which is often employed to denote 
 the beginning of anything, and sometimes the essential 
 principle of any system. In our text, it may be consid- 
 ered as applicable to each and all of these significations. 
 The Church, for instance, is a spiritual Edifice, and Jesus 
 is the foundation-stone. Redemption is a dispensa- 
 tion of grace and mercy to man, and of that dispensa- 
 tion, Jesus Cheist is the beginning. Christianity is a 
 system of faith, and of that system, Christ is both the 
 centre, and essential principle. Let us then, for a few 
 moments, consider Christ as a Foundation, in this gen- 
 eral sense of the term. 
 
 1. Christ is the foundation of the Gospel. 
 
 The Gospel is emphatically the Gospel of Jesus 
 Christ. He is its Founder, its Source, its Theme, and 
 its Glory. Before the Saviour came upon earth, and 
 uttered the gracious words of mercy and salvation to a 
 lost world, the minds of the wisest men were agitated 
 by doubts and fears, in regard to everything connected 
 with Eternity, and their own responsibility. Life and 
 immortality were brought to light by the Saviour. It 
 was the instructions of Christ that shed the first clear 
 beams of light upon the gross darkness of the world, — 
 which revealed God to the benighted soul, in all the 
 glories of His Holiness and Love, — ^which taught man 
 the certainty of a future state, the resurrection of the 
 body from the grave, and the unalterable retributions of 
 the Future. Full and satisfactory information upon 
 these important subjects, can be derived from no other 
 source than the lips of our Divine Teacher. And as 
 
144 
 
 the doctrines of the Gospel, so all its privileges, — all its 
 blessings, are from Him, and Him only. AH its ordi- 
 nances bear His name ; — all its light and glory emanate 
 from Him. He too is the subject, — ^the theme, of its 
 varied instructions. However diversified these may be, 
 they can aU be traced back to the Cross of Jesus, as 
 streams to their fountain, — as the beams of light to the 
 sun, which sends its genial influences over every part of 
 nature. Apostles and Martyrs are the Apostles and 
 Martyrs of Jesus. The saving truth of the Gospel, is 
 the truth as it is in Jesus. In a word, Christ and Him 
 crucified is the foundation, upon which rests the whole 
 fabric of spiritual truth, and which binds together in a 
 beautiful and harmonious whole, the various parts of 
 that glorious system of mercy, by which man is saved, 
 and sanctified, and glorified. 
 
 Again, — Christ is the foundation of the sinner's aic- 
 ceptance with God. 
 
 He is the only way of access unto the Father. He 
 is the one only Mediator, — the true propitiation or Mer- 
 cy-seat. We are justified by faith in Him. In Him 
 alone, we have redemption through His blood, even the 
 forgiveness of sins. There is no other name given un- 
 der Heaven, among men, whereby we can be saved, but 
 the name of Jesus. And as the guilty soul derives the 
 first ray of light, and joy, and peace, from looking unto 
 Cheist as a Saviour, so does the believer rest continu- 
 ally upon Him, as the ground of his safety and stability, 
 and the foundation of all his blessed hopes. The Chris- 
 tian is begotten to a lively hope ; but it is by the resur- 
 rection of Christ from the dead. Crhist is formed in 
 him, the hope of glory. The believer's hopes relate to 
 
146 
 
 a full and complete salvation, — to victory in death, — to 
 a resurrection from the dead, in the likeness of Cheist, 
 — to an abundant entrance into the kingdom of the Di- 
 vine Glory, and to unspeakable bliss in the presence of 
 God forever. But all these great and sublime hopes 
 rest entirely upon the Saviour. We conquer only 
 through Him ; we die happy in Him ; we shall be raised 
 from the dead, by the power and word of Jesus. We 
 shall be admitted into the realms of glory by the hand 
 of Jesus, and by His voice of welcome. And that Eter- 
 nal Life which is the portion of the redeemed, will flow 
 from Christ, as from a living and inexhaustible fountain. 
 
 What other foundation can any man lay than this, 
 upon which we would dare to build such hopes as these ? 
 
 Once more ; — Cheist is the foundation of the whole 
 Church. As He is the Rock upon which each individu- 
 al soul builds its hopes of salvation, so will He sustain, 
 by His strength alone, the whole Body of His redeemed.. 
 The government is upon His shoulders. When St.. 
 Peter confessed His divine character, as the Cheist, the 
 Son of the Living God, — Jesus replied, " On this Rock 
 will I build My Church, and the gates of hell shall not 
 prevail against it." " He is Head over all things to His 
 Church," " from whom all the body,, by joints and bands 
 having nourishment ministered, and knit together, ih- 
 creaseth with the increase of God." Li Christ as the 
 foundation of His Chm-ch, all fulness dwells. The 
 Church on earth, in all her vicissitudes and struggles, 
 so far as she has been built upon Jesus and His truth, 
 has found herself invincible. The winds and the waves 
 of her tribulations have indeed swept away much of the 
 wood, and the hay, and the stubble, which the corrupts 
 
 IS* 
 
146 
 
 ion of ages had gathered about her, but they have only 
 left the true Temple of the Lord, the firmer upon its 
 foundation, and better prepared to stand the shock of 
 her foes. Men have built upon other foundations, and 
 have called their work, the Church of the Living God ; — 
 but it was unable to endure the day of fiery trial, and 
 both the workmen and their work have passed away. 
 But Jesus is a sure foundation, a Corner Stone, both 
 tried and precious. He will bear up the building, until 
 it shall be finished in all its glorious proportions, and 
 they shall bring forth the head-stone thereof with shout- 
 ings — crying, " grace ! grace ! unto it." 
 
 2. Let us notice, in the next place, some of the dis- 
 tinguishing characteristics of this Foundation. It is dis- 
 tinguished, j^rs^, for its strength. This is indispensable 
 in a foundation — if it were frail and yielding, the safety 
 of the whole building would be endangered. But in 
 Christ are found all those elements of strength, which 
 are requisite to sustain His church, when shaken by the 
 violence of her enemies. Possessing, as He does, all 
 power both in heaven and earth, in vain will the pow- 
 ers of earth and of Hell, exert their combined force, to 
 defeat the hopes which are built upon His covenanted 
 engagements. Holding the keys of death and of the 
 invisible world, every enemy is subjected to His control. 
 " The kings of the earth may set themselves, and the 
 rulers take counsel together, against the Lord, and 
 against His Anointed, — but He that sitteth in the hea- 
 vens, shall laugh ; the Lord shall have them in derision." 
 Beneath the church are the Everlasting arms, and the 
 Eternal God is her refuge. Every believer in Jesus 
 becomes a partaker of His strength. So long as he re- 
 
147 
 
 mains fixed upon this foundation, as well might he fear 
 for the throne of God, and the stability of His govern- 
 ment, as doubt of his ultimate triumph over the mightiest 
 obstacles to his salvation. He becomes omnipotent 
 through the Omnipotence of Cheist. " Though he fall, he 
 shall not be utterly cast down, for the Lord upholdeth 
 him with His hand." 
 
 Another characteristic of this foundation is, that it is 
 hidden from the view. This is true of the foundation of 
 every building which is calculated for strength and du- 
 rability. Concealed in the firm earth, it feels not the 
 shock of the elements. And while it is the real source 
 of security to that which is exposed to the violence of the 
 the winds and the floods, yet to one unacquainted with 
 the laws of architecture, it would not only be hidden from 
 the view, but an unknown and mysterious power. And 
 the same is true of Christ, as the foundation of His church. 
 Though He was once manifested unto men in the flesh, 
 and then- hands once handled the Word of Life, yet even 
 then, the Divine power by which He worked, was unseen 
 and unacknowledged by an unbelieving world. His 
 Divinity, the very basis of His mysterious character, and 
 the foundation of the world's hopes, was known and ac- 
 knowledged, only by an humble and living faith. And 
 now that He is exalted to the right hand of the Majesty 
 on high, He has become indeed the unseen, and to the 
 minds of many, the unknown foundation, upon which the 
 believer builds all his expectations for Eternity. It is 
 this invisibility of her Foundation, which gives to the 
 Church her mysterious character in the view of the world. 
 Earthly dynasties have expired, — empires have per- 
 ished, — the revolutions and disasters of time have 
 
148 
 
 changed the whole face of the globe ; and yet the Church 
 of the Eedeemer has outlived them all, and still looks for- 
 ward to an endless growth and perpetuity, with Jesus for 
 her Founder and her King, — Jesus, the same yesterday, 
 and to-day, and forever. This would indeed be unac- 
 countable, if she did not differ from aU earthly kii^- 
 doms, in the character of her Foundation. But the 
 Rock of her hopes is laid in Eternity, unseen by mortal 
 eye, — ^far from the storms and changes of this lower 
 world, and unaffected by the wrath of man, or the malig- 
 nity of Hell. The world does not see this ; unbelief 
 has prematurely triumphed over what she has fondly 
 thought was the Church's ruin. The scoffer and the in- 
 fidel have dreamed of her extermination, because they 
 could not penetrate beyond the boundary of time and 
 sense, and behold her interests indestructibly linked 
 with the faithfulness and the very existence of Jehovah- 
 Hence too, the believer is a wonder to many ; a strange 
 spectacle to those who know not how broad and deep 
 is that unseen Foundation, upon which he stands. His 
 language is strange to them, his love, his joy, — \a& 
 hopes, — ^his perseverance amidst the rudest shocks, are 
 all mysterious to a faithless world, because it sees not 
 the source of his strength. But the secret of all this is, 
 that he walks by faith, and not by sight. He lives, as 
 seeing Him who is invisible. His life is hid with Christ 
 ia God — His eye and his affections are fixed upon the 
 things which are above, where Christ sitteth at the 
 right haad of God. He is inseparably united to 
 Christ, whom having not seen, he loves, — ^in whom 
 though now he sees Him aot, yet believing, he rejoices 
 with joy unspeakable and full of glory. 
 
149 
 
 Once more; — Christ is a Foundation, every way 
 suitable for the accomplishment of that work which Di- 
 vine love and wisdom projected for the salvation of man. 
 G-od and man, sundered by sin, were to be brought to- 
 gether again, in harmony and love. The distance which 
 separated them was vast as Eternity itself. "Who shall 
 stand in this awful breach, and undertake the great 
 work of re-uniting in allegiance and love to a holy God, 
 a revolted world, justly exposed to His wrath ? The 
 work transcends an Angel's wisdom ; — an Angel's love 
 and power could avail nothing in saving a single soul 
 from death. The Foundation and Corner Stone of such 
 an enterprise, must be broad enough to fill up the mea- 
 sureless gulf between God and His creature man; it 
 must be strong enough to bind together, in an everlast- 
 ing and harmonious union, the discordant elements of 
 that moral ruin which sin has introduced into our world. 
 And no where can these requisites be found, save in the 
 eternal Son of God, — God manifest in the flesh. In the 
 person of Jesus, as our atoning Saviour, — the trembling 
 soul of man may meet his God in love and peace. 
 There is room in the Saviour's bosom for every lost and 
 perishing sinner. As man He suffered, and He died for 
 our salvation ; — and as God, He is qualified to speak to 
 the penitent and believing soul, the language of pardon, 
 of confidence and peace. 
 
 Here is mercy brought down to a level with our con- 
 dition. Here, — aU that we need — all that we could 
 wish, is within our grasp. But it is the achievement of 
 Almighty love and wisdom. Nothing but the arm of 
 Omnipotence could have laid a Foundation so broad, 
 and so all sufficient for the wants of the soul ; and no 
 
150 
 
 other foundation can any man lay, than that is laid, 
 which is Jesus Christ. 
 
 And yet, the text supposes that men would attempt 
 this, though it affirms the impossibility of affecting it. 
 We have seen that some in the Church at Corinth ac- 
 tually made this attempt, by looking more to mere hu- 
 man teachers, than to Christ. And the history of the 
 Church in all ages amply bears out the supposition of 
 the text. The perverse ingenuity of the human heart, 
 blind to the wisdom of God, and averse to His methods 
 of mercy, has laid and embellished many false founda- 
 tions', to attract men, and draw them away from the only 
 Saviour of sinners. Let us look, in conclusion, at some 
 few of the instances in which men attempt to lay anoth- 
 er foundation than Christ. They do this, who are 
 trusting to the dictates of unsanctified reason for their 
 knowledge of Divine truth. What havoc have these 
 luminaries of Nature made among the spiritual doctrines 
 of the Cross ! The mysteries of the Gospel are to them 
 an offence, and a stumbling block so fatal, that the 
 words of Jesus are either rejected, or so tortured from 
 their just meaning, as to be emptied of all their peculiar 
 significance. Reason is substituted for a simple faith 
 in the declarations of the Son of God ; and the conse- 
 quence is, that they have imdeified the Saviour, — extin- 
 guished the Holy Spirit — ^frittered away the doctrine of 
 the Atonement, — made Satan and Satanic agency, a vis- 
 ionary illusion, — and placed a cold repentance, and a 
 lifeless faith, and a spiritless morality, as the basis of sal- 
 vation. It is impossible to exclude such from among 
 those who lay another foundation. 
 
 This is done, 2, by relying distinctly upon our own 
 
161 
 
 righteousness for acceptance with God. This may be 
 done in many ways and forms. By trusting to our hon- 
 esty, or to the absence of notorious and flagrant crimes ; 
 to acts of generosity, of devotion, and self-denial ; to 
 the correctness of our creed, or to our public profes- 
 sion. All these things are 'well, and indispensable in 
 their place. They go to adorn and verify the Christian 
 character. They are the genuine fruits of faith, and 
 are the just signs and manifestations of an inward life. 
 But as the soxA' a foundation, they are absolutely worth- 
 less. For by the deeds of the law, shall no flesh be 
 justified. When we have done all, we are but unprofit- 
 able servants. As a ground of hope for salvation, our 
 righteousnesses are but as filthy rags. Jesus and His 
 righteousness, and atoning love, are alone suflScient to 
 present us spotless before the throne of God. 
 
 Again — when we rest solely upon God's mercy to the 
 exclusion of the Saviour's merits, we are laying another 
 foundation than Christ. It is a glorious truth that God 
 is merciful, — ^but it is by, and through, the Cross of Je- 
 sus, that this mercy is most strikingly and effectually 
 manifested. Besides, Jehovah is just and holy and 
 true, as well as merciful ; and there is no other way in 
 which these attributes can harmoniously blend with His 
 mercy in the salvation of the sinner, save in the Cross 
 of Jesus. He that beUeveth shall be saved. He that 
 believeth not shall inevitably perish. 
 
 And not only is it vain and foolish, but it is exceed- 
 ingly criminal, to attempt to lay another foundation than 
 Christ. It is a presumptous reflection upon Jehovah's 
 wisdom and goodness, and upon Christ's sufficiency to 
 save. Jesus, as the Foundation of the sinner's hopes. 
 
152 
 
 is identified vitli the depths of infinite skill — ^with the 
 boundlessness of Divine love — ^with the unspeakable 
 preciousness of Atoning blood. The attempt to lay 
 another, is setting at nought these perfections of the 
 great God, and trampling under foot the blood of Jesus. 
 It is exalting one's self-sufficiency above the wisdom 
 of God, and the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ. Is 
 He not able and willing to save even to the uttermost, 
 all that come unto Him ? Did He ever reject even the 
 chief of sinners, when coming to Him as an humble suppli- 
 cant for mercy ? What folly then to build upon any 
 other foundation than that which God, in infinite mercy, 
 has laid 1 We are not left to choose. If we build upon 
 Cheist, we are saved. If we build upon our own founda- 
 tions, they wUl involve us in inevitable ruin. Come, 
 then, to Him who is the Life and Light of the world. 
 Come, sinner ! and let your earliest hopes and joys be 
 found in the peace-speaking blood of the cross. 
 
 And, Believer, with all your attainments, and services 
 for Christ, remember that He who hath wrought aU 
 your good works in you, must be your only Saviour ; and 
 that He will not give His glory to another. 
 
Qtxmon 11. 
 
 THE CERTAIN DETECTION OF SIN. 
 Numbers xxxii. 23. — " And be sure your sin will find you out." 
 
 The text is one of those numerous passages of Scrip- 
 ture, wMch speak in the language of warning to the sin- 
 ner, assuring him of the final detection and punishment 
 of sin. It is the characteristic of the Gospel, that in it 
 " mercy and truth haTC met together — righteousness and 
 peace have kissed each other," — ^i. e. whilst mercy and 
 peace are proclaimed to the penitent and believing, to 
 all who comply with the terms of salvation, — truth and 
 righteousness will still be maintained unimpaired. 
 Though merciful, God is still jealous of His holiness; 
 and hence the sinfulness of our nature, and the sinful 
 acts which flow from that nature, must either be washed 
 away and forgiven through the blood of our great Sac- 
 rifice, or else, must meet with the punishment which the 
 law demands. In one, or the other, of these ways, 
 must sin and the sinner be dealt with. God will never 
 overlook transgression, nor lose sight of the transgressor, 
 u 
 
154 
 
 He will either save him, as an humble, obedient disciple of 
 Jesus, or He will visit him with the stern and eternal 
 retributions of His justice. Our Saviour, who was the 
 very impersonation of the gospel, and whose deep and 
 ardent love for the soul, no one can question, uttered 
 the most fearful maledictions against sin, thereby illus- 
 trating the fact, which is never to be forgotten, — ^that 
 whilst God is rich in mercy. He will by no means clear 
 the guilty. If man indulge the dream of impunity, he 
 does it at the peril of his soul, and must trample upon 
 the plainest declarations of God's Word. "Though 
 hand join in hand, the wicked shall not go unpimished." 
 " I will punish you for your iniquities," saith the Lord. 
 " And be sure your sin will find you out." 
 
 The circumstances under which these words were ut- 
 tered, were briefly the following. When the children 
 of Israel had passed the wilderness, they pitched their 
 tabernacle in the plains of Moab, preparatory to their 
 passage over Jordan. Whilst resting from the toils of 
 their journey, the tribes of Reuben and Gad, saw that 
 the region of country upon that side Jordan was ad- 
 mirably adapted, from its fertility, to serve as a pasture for 
 their flocks and herds. They therefore petitioned Mo- 
 ses and the chief men of Israel, for permission to occu- 
 py that land, instead of seeking, in company with the 
 other tribes, an inheritance in Canaan. Moses, at first, 
 severely rebuked them for such a request, supposing 
 that they wished to escape the approaching struggle 
 with the idolatrous inhabitants of Canaan. But when 
 they had solemnly assured him, that they would leave 
 their cattle and their little ones behind them, and share 
 with their brethren all the perils of the war, he gave 
 
155 
 
 them his consent, — reminding them, at the same time, 
 that their covenant was a transaction with God, and 
 that the Lord would deal with them according to the 
 fidelity with which they might fulfil their engagement. 
 " If ye ivill do this thing," he says, " ye shall return and 
 be guiltless before the Lord, and this land shall be yom' 
 possession. But if ye will not do so — ^behold, ye have 
 sinned against' the Lord, and be sure your sin will find 
 you out." 
 
 Had these two tribes failed to redeem their pledge, 
 there could have been nothing in their acts, which would 
 render their sin peculiarly liable to detection. It would 
 indeed have been a daring offence against God ; the 
 text, however, does- not teach us, that such sins will be 
 remembered, whilst others will be forgotten ; but it il- 
 lustrates and solemnly assures us of >the general truth, 
 that every sinful act is faithfeUy recorded in the Book 
 of God's remembrance, and, unless an interest in the 
 Redeemer's blood prevent, will bring dismay and ruin 
 upon the transgressor. It speaks to every impenitent 
 soul. It points you, my Hearers, to the past; and 
 whilst it sends you back, in recollection, over the path 
 which you have trod in life, and bids you recall the nu- 
 merous offences which you have committed, it directs 
 you to the future, with the dread announcement, " Be 
 sure your sin will find you out." The language is such 
 as to strip the subject of even the shadow of a doubt. 
 It does not leave the sinner even a peradventure, upon 
 which to suspend a hope. There is no hesitation ia its 
 tone ; you are not told that it is highly probable, but 
 that it is absolutely certain. " Be sure," indulge not 
 the slightest hope of escape, but " Be sure your sin will 
 
156 
 
 fiad you out." It is this certainty which gives a terrific 
 emphasis to the declaration. It sweeps away, at a 
 blow, every ground of false- confidence, and sends its 
 warning voice into every one of the sinner's refuges of 
 lies. The utmost secrecy wiU not prevent it. No hu- 
 man witness may betray the secret, but you have sinned 
 against the Lord, and " Be sure your sin will find you 
 out." You win yet be made to tremble*under just im- 
 pressions of its malignity, — ^you will be humbled under 
 the shame of its disclosure, and suffer under the punish- 
 ment of its accumulated consequences. 
 
 The phrase, " Tour sin will find you out," is a pecu- 
 liarly expressive one. It represents the sinner as a 
 culprit, endeavoring to hide himself from the pursuit of 
 justice, — assuming first one disguise and then another, 
 constantly driven from the place of his temporary con- 
 cealment, sometimes, for a*long period together, dwell- 
 ing in fancied security, till suddenly startled by the re- 
 appearance of his indefatigable and perhaps forgotten 
 enemy ; then betaking himself again to Ifight, till wearied 
 in the chase, he becomes the powerless victim of his 
 dreaded pursuer. Such is the cai'eer of the thoughtless 
 transgressor. Your sin, my Hearers, wiU foUow you 
 with relentless pertinacity. It wiU never give up the 
 chase. It wiU foUow you in all the windings of your 
 course, defeating every cunning stratagem, and dispelling 
 every fond delusion, till you are compelled to exclaim 
 with the guilty King of Israel, " Hast thou found me, 
 mine enemy." The sinner is a constant fugitive. The 
 Avenger of blood is behind him, and he will find no 
 solace to his fears, no repose for his guilty soul, tiU he 
 find them in a well assured hope of pardon, at the foot 
 
157 
 
 of the Cross. Sin must not be concealed from your 
 own eye, nor must you attempt to cloak it from the eye 
 of God. Confession — unfeigned repentaiice, and a re- 
 sort to that fountain which has been opened for sin and 
 uncleanness, can alone save the soul from the power of 
 the Destroyer. 
 
 But how will sin thus OTertate the guilty ? What is 
 it, that renders the result so fearfully certain ? Is there 
 nothing besides the simple declarations of God's Word, 
 to fortify the assertion of the text? Is there noth- 
 ing which echoes the truth of that Word, and clothes 
 its assm-ances with a tenfold power of conviction ? We 
 venture to affirm that there is ; and would now invite 
 your attention to a brief consideration of that point. 
 
 1. From what we know of God — even if He had 
 made no revelation of the fact, we might have reasonably 
 drawn the conclusion, that no sin, however slight or se- 
 cretly committed, would be forever concealed or for- 
 gotten. He is the God of truth and of righteousness. 
 He is described as sitting on the throne of judgment, as 
 the high and mighty Euler of the universe. He is per- 
 fectly able to unveil the hidden works of darkness ; and 
 as a Being, whose very perfections require that none of 
 His attributes should be tarnished, He cannot pass by 
 a single act of sin. Should He do so. He would cease 
 to be qualified to judge the world in righteousness. He 
 would cease to be that spotless Being whom saints and 
 angels rejoice in exalting, as glorious in holiness. The 
 wisest and the most perfect human legislation must 
 necessarily fail to take cognizance of much that is wrong 
 in this sinful world ; and hence, after all the efforts of 
 law-makers and reformers, the heart of the Christian 
 
 14* 
 
158 
 
 and the true philanthropist, is compelled to rest its last 
 hope for the entire removal of moral evil, in the omnip- 
 otence of a perfectly holy and righteous God. Take 
 away this last resort, — ^let the supposition once prevail 
 that the great Governor of all will suffer the smallest 
 sin to pass into oblivion, and you at once remove the 
 very basis of morality, and the hopes of the righteous. 
 When the sinner, therefore, indulges the thought that 
 because his offences cease to trouble him, God has for- 
 gotten, and will never bring them to his remembrance, 
 he degrades the character of the Almighty. To silence 
 his fears, he changes the glory of the incorruptible God, 
 into an image made like to corruptible man. Kather 
 than turn from sin, by a true repentance, and sincere 
 confession of his guilt, he chooses to add to his condem- 
 nation, by casting dishonor upon his Maker. For what 
 is this, but making God a partaker of his sin ? What 
 is it but bringing down the Holy one of Israel to a lev- 
 el with his own corrupt nature, when he saith, " The 
 Lord shall not see, neither shall the God of Jacob re- 
 gard it." How difficult is it for imperfect man, to px-e- 
 serve the notion of ^perfect God ! How prone are we to 
 indulge false conceptions of Him, when driven by the 
 reproaches of guilt, to seek for some other shelter, than 
 that which Almighty love has provided ! But such ideas 
 of God contradict the sober conclusions of an unbiassed 
 judgment. If sin were not loved more than He who 
 has forbidden all sin, there could be no pleasure in the 
 thought of a God, who would disregard iniquity. Every 
 pure mind loves to contemplate a perfectly pure and 
 sin-hating God, who will one day bring to light, every 
 secret thing, whether it be good or bad. The very na- 
 
159 
 
 tiire of God, then, demands that no sin should be over- 
 looked. Like the scoffers of old, men may say in their 
 heart, " where is the promise of His coming." But be 
 sure their sin will find them out. The character of God 
 requires it. He has appointed a day in which He will 
 vindicate His character against all gainsayers. For the 
 Lord is not slack concerning His promise, as some men 
 count slackness ; but is long suffering, not willing that 
 any should perish. The day of the Lord will come as 
 a thief in the night ; a day in which the Lord of Hosts 
 will be exalted in judgment, and God that is holy will 
 be sanctified in righteousness. 
 
 2. We are also taught the certainty of sin's detection, 
 from the constitution of our own nature. God has im- 
 planted in the breast of every man a natural conscience, 
 — that faculty of the soul, by which we either acquit 
 or condemn ourselves, according as our actions are 
 either right or wrong. Just so far as we are enlighten- 
 ed in regard to our duty, it is impossible for us to trans- 
 gress without receiviug the rebukes of this faithful mon- 
 itor. Tell me, my Hearers, if you ever did that which 
 you knew to be wrong, without trampling upon the re- 
 proofs of conscience. Call to mind any one of the mul- 
 titude of your known sins, and say if, in the act of com- 
 mitting it, there was not a something within you which 
 whispered to you of guilt, which made you falter and 
 hesitate, and compelled you to struggle with your con- 
 victions. Are there not some transactions of your past 
 life, upon which you cannot look back except with dis- 
 comfort, and which you would gladly have blotted from 
 existence, as well as from your remembrance ? And 
 whence arises this trembling hesitation in the act of sin ? 
 
160 
 
 this shrinking reluctance to bring every past deed to 
 remembrance ? Why is it that you would obliterate 
 from the pages of God's Book the sure record of a com- 
 ing judgment, and that you cannot look forward to a 
 dying hour with calmness, much less with the joy of a 
 soul anticipating a happy eternity ? Ah ! it is because of 
 that Accuser and Judge within you, — a Conscience, stem 
 and faithful, which like the great Author of your being 
 neither slumbers nor sleeps. In the whirl of business, 
 or the intoxication of pleasure, you may beguile your- 
 self with the fancy that the past will be forgotten — and 
 the future all be well. You may strive to stifle reflec- 
 tion, and to live only in the present moment, and for a 
 season, — ^nay, for many short seasons, you may perhaps 
 succeed. But you were m,ade for reflection ; you were 
 made for the future. As a rational being, you cannot 
 escape this necessity of your nature. You will be com- 
 pelled, in spite of yourself, frequently to take a retro- 
 spect of the past, and you will be equally compelled, at 
 times, to send your thoughts into the future. You can- 
 not always be occupied with the present. The mind 
 will grow weary of such monotony, and like the long 
 pent-up tide, she will burst the feeble barriers which 
 you are striving to erect, and will traverse the past and 
 the future, with a power and rapidity which you cannot 
 restrain. 
 
 And then it is that conscience will be your insepar- 
 able companion. As days and months and years pass 
 before yon, this faithful servant of the Most High will 
 point you to sins which you had long striven to forget. 
 Each one will be arrayed before you, not in the decep- 
 tive colors in which you dressed it, whilst excusing your- 
 
161 
 
 self for committing it, but in all the naked deformity of 
 its guilt. Conscience is no deceiver, — ^no flatterer.— 
 When the passions are all still, and the soul is fitted 
 for serious and in/partial judgment, then does she ap' 
 proach in the majesty of truth, and tell of " righteous^ 
 ness and of a judgment to come." You will be forced to 
 listen to her accusations, for she is a part of your very 
 self J and before you can drown her voice, the soul itself 
 must be annihilated. 
 
 But if the past be so intolerable, what think you of 
 the future ? Is there any thing there, my impenitent 
 Hearer, which will make the reproaches of conscience 
 more easy to be borne ? When she points you to the 
 chamber of death, — to the sinking body and the strug- 
 gUng soul, can you contemplate the scene mmioved ? 
 As she tells you of that hour, when the world will have 
 lost its power to please, and your own reflections must 
 either be your comforters, or your tormentors, can you 
 think of it without a shudder ? Can you pass on with 
 this companion, when with the record of your guilt be- 
 fore you, she tells you, in tones of solemn warning, 
 " Know that for all these things God will bring thee 
 into judgment !" 
 
 Now we say, that this constitution of your nature, — 
 the possession of a Conscience which bears her decided 
 testimony against sin, is a convincing argument that your 
 sin will surely find you out. We have already remarked, 
 that it is in seasons of calm thoughtfulness, that con- 
 science busily acts her part. The excitement of busi- 
 ness or of pleasure, when the soul is occupied with ex- 
 ternal objects, may render you insensible to her grave 
 rebukes. We have also remarked, that whenever the 
 
162 
 
 mind is thrown into an attitude of reflection, as it must 
 frequently be, conscience never fails to do her duty, as 
 a stern remembrancer and a faithful rebuker. Now 
 let us apply the argument. There is a season coming 
 in the history of your existence, when the excitements 
 and the allurements of pleasure shall all have passed 
 away. But as an undying spirt, you will live forever. 
 You must abandon yoiu- accustomed places of resort, and 
 your cherished plans for life, and must, however reluc- 
 tantly, obey the summons of death. The business of 
 the world must be exchanged for the business of Eterni- 
 ty. Gay and thoughtless levity must give way to the 
 seriousness of a dying chamber, the cold and cheerless 
 tomb, the solemn awards of the judgment-seat, the un- 
 broken solemnities of the eternal world. Not a mo- 
 ment wiU then be permitted, in which the soul can for- 
 get herself. Seasons of reflection will not be occasional; 
 Eternity wiU be one long unceasing period of thought ; 
 and you will think and reflect, purely as moral beings. 
 Your relations to God and to His commands, wiU form 
 the constant subject of your thoughts ; not, as now, un- 
 frequent, periodical, — the effect of weariness and dis- 
 gust with the world ; but the natural actings of a spirit 
 dwelling in a world of spirits. No scene of pleasure 
 will be spread before you by which to beguile your 
 painful convictions. All will be one unwearied, — ever- 
 lasting season of solemn thought, of seZ/"-reflection. Now, 
 my Hearers, when you leave this world, you must carry 
 your conscience with you. She is a part of youi- living 
 spirit, and will therefore be yoiu- eternal companion, in 
 that season of eternal reflection. Her office in eternity 
 will be the same as here, to tell the soul of guilt; of 
 
163 
 
 mercies abused, and of a wrath, which forever will still 
 be " the wrath to come." But 0, how diflferently will 
 she then perform her office 1 Not even for a moment 
 can her voice be drowned. " She will continually hold 
 out her dreadful mirror to the terrified eye ; and exhibit 
 you to yourself, odious, deformed, and fearfully exposed 
 to the anger of God." It wiU be her special business 
 to remind you of your sins, and not one will be forgotten. 
 All ! all will be faithfully presented, — ^not to be excused 
 or to be thought lightly of, but to he felt and to be felt for- 
 ever. As surely then, my Hearers, as you have a con- 
 science, and must die, and carry that conscience with you 
 into Eternity, so sure may you be, that your sin will find 
 you out. Yoiu" very nature must be changed, before 
 you can alter this declaration of the word of God. Let 
 then, the warnings of conscience be heeded, whilst sin 
 may be pardoned, and your soul purged from the stain 
 of guilt. 0, come unto Him whom your sins have slain, 
 and whose blood alone can cleanse you from their pollu- 
 tion. Conscience now speaks in tones of gentle admoni- 
 tion. She speaks of repentance, and she tells you of a 
 Saviour's love. Wait not until she begins to thunder 
 her everlasting rebukes, — when the season of mercy 
 shall be over, and God shall clothe Himself in the ter- 
 rors of His wrath ! 
 
 3. Once more; — We may learn the certainty of the 
 detection and exposure of sin, from the course of Provi- 
 dential occurrences. By this we mean, that in the pro- 
 gress of the sinner's history, even in this life, he will 
 frequently encounter trying emergencies, critical situa- 
 tions, which awaken aU his fears, lest his secret sins are 
 about to be disclosed to the world. To make our 
 
164 
 
 meaning still clearer, we will take an illustration. We 
 wiU suppose that some one of you, my Hearers, has 
 been guilty of a secret act of wrong doing, an act lying 
 far back in your history, and known only to yourself. 
 The circumstances under which that act was committed, 
 led you to hope that it would remain a secret, — that 
 under no possible combination of events, so far as you 
 could conjecture, would it be forced into public notice. 
 Encouraged by this appearance of probable concealment, 
 you have suffered it to pass almost from your recollec- 
 tion ; — or if you think of it, it is with comparative com- 
 placency, supposing that what you most dread, viz, a 
 disclosure, will never occur. Now have there not been 
 occasions, when in spite of all your care and watchful- 
 ness, the course of providential circumstances seemed 
 to be upon the point of revealing your secret ? Affairs 
 have taken a turn which you did not anticipate ; the 
 " net of circumstances begins to entangle you," and per- 
 haps in a moment more, the fatal secret, long buried in 
 your own bosom, will be before the world. You trem- 
 ble at the crisis ; — regrets and fears begin to agitate 
 your breast, and you silently await the bursting of the 
 cloud which is to involve you in ruin. But, by what 
 you may term a fortunate turn of events, you escape 
 undetected. Every thing again assumes its wonted as- 
 pect of security, and soon your fears are calmed, — your 
 wonted confidence returns, — to be disturbed by another, 
 and still another crisis, equally appalling to your spirit. 
 Now these seasons of fearful apprehension, occasioned 
 by circumstances on which you had not calculated, are 
 awful indications of the ultimate and sure disclosure of 
 even the most secret sin. This is what we mean when 
 
165 
 
 ■we say that we may learn the certainty of this disclo- 
 sure from the course of providential occurrences. They 
 teach you that you are not the master of events ; and 
 furthermore, that there is no such thing as chance, — that 
 above all the apparent confusion of things in this world, 
 there reigns a God of order, — a God of righteousness 
 and of judgment. We are most solemnly assured 
 that He has appointed a day in which He will judge the 
 world in righteousness, — a day in which He will iinally 
 and publicly adjust all that may seem wrong or incon- 
 sistent in this world of sin. Those trying situations of 
 which we have spoken, would seem to be arranged by 
 a God waiting to be gracious, for the purpose of certify- 
 ing the trembling offender, how rapidly he is approach- 
 ing that day when the secrets of all hearts shall be dis- 
 closed. They are gleams of light darting from the 
 throne of judgment, upon the obscurity of this dark 
 world, enabling us in a measure, to penetrate God's 
 future purposes of justice, and unfolding with a plainness 
 that cannot be mistaken, the meaning of His declara- 
 tions in His word. They furnish the sinner with a 
 merciful opportunity to turn from his wickedness, before 
 the judgment is set and the books are opened, and the 
 sentence of eternal condemnation is pronounced. O 
 that men " were wise, that they understood this, that 
 they would consider their latter end !" 
 
 By His word and by His providences, God tells us 
 that a day of retribution is at hand. We are left with- 
 out excuse, if we sport ourselves with our own deceivings 
 whilst surrounded and urged by the solemn assurances 
 of a God of love. Listen, then, before it be too late, to 
 the kind warnings of the Bible, to the lessons of your 
 
 15 
 
166 
 
 own experience, — to the admonitions of your con- 
 science. Trifle hot witli sin ; it is a deceiver and a de- 
 stroyer. Call it not a light thing to transgress even the 
 least of God's commandments. A little transgression, 
 like the grain of mustard seed, will spring up into a 
 fruitful harvest of shame and woe. Do you say that 
 you can remember no sin with which your conscience 
 particularly reproaches you ? that you have never com- 
 mitted any act so sinful in the sight of God or man, as 
 to haunt you with any fearful anticipations of disclosure 
 or punishment ? I will not now stop to speak of the 
 deceitfulness of that heart which is so insensible to 
 what all sin deserves at the hands of a holy and right- 
 eous God. But let me ask, have you yet yielded to 
 the claims of the Son of God upon your heart and life ? 
 Have you not repeatedly closed your heart to the invi- 
 tations of the Saviour, and the pleadings of His Holy 
 Spirit ? Have not the allurements of sin, and your love 
 of this present world, led you to stifle the voice of con- 
 science, when you were almost persuaded to be a Chris- 
 tian ? And is it no sin to put this slight upon Jesus, 
 and His great salvation ? it is the sin of all sins ; 
 and lightly as you may estimate it, it will, if persisted 
 in, sink your soul to the lowest Hell. " Your sin will 
 surely find you out," when the interests or enjoyments, 
 for which you have trampled upon the blood of the 
 Cross, shall leave you comfortless and friendless. It 
 " will find you out," in the distress and anguish of a dy- 
 ing hour, — when the soul, struggling upon the borders 
 of eternity, has no God to look to, no Saviour to whis- 
 per a word of consolation, or one blessed promise. It 
 " will find you out," — ^when you shall be summoned from 
 
167 
 
 youi" grave to the judgment, and find no Advocate to 
 plead for your guilty soul at that tribunal. And from 
 the lips of your despised and neglected Lord, shall pass 
 the dread sentence, "Depart from Me, ye cursed, I know 
 you not !" "Whosoever," says Chkist, " shall be ashamed 
 of Me and of My words, of him shall the Son of man be 
 ashamed, when He cometh in the glory of His Father 
 and the holy angels." 
 
0ermon 12, 
 
 THE SAVIOUR'S NAME. 
 
 (Christmas.) 
 
 S. Matthew i. 23. — " And they shall call His name Emmanuel, 
 which, being interpreted is, God with us." 
 
 These words point us back to Isaiah ; who, from the 
 frequent allusions in his writings, to the coming and suf- 
 ferings of the Messiah, has been very aptly styled the 
 Evangelical prophet. The prediction that a Yirgin 
 should bring forth a Son, and that his name should be 
 called Emmanuel, was uttered more than seven hundred 
 years before Jesus was born, and is a remarkable in- 
 stance of the particularity with which this event was 
 foretold, — an event so full of mercy and peace to our 
 world. And is not this fact pregnant with an impor- 
 tant lesson to us, who live under the clear light of the 
 Gospel ? Shall we value so little the privileges, the 
 unspeakable blessings, which flow to us from the con- 
 descension of our Redeemer, as to think that a day set 
 apart for the special commemoration of His love, is an 
 
169 
 
 act of superfluous worsiiip ? Shall an event which gave 
 all its energy to the faith of God's ancient people, — 
 which inspired with peculiar gladness, the strain of 
 prophetic triumph, — which moved a portion of the hea- 
 venly host to leave their seats of bliss, and publish the 
 good news to a world insensible of its blessings, — shall 
 such an event ever be forgotten by us, or the day which 
 celebrates it, suffered to pass by unheeded ? or, worse 
 than all, desecrated with unhallowed joy, and made 
 the occasion of carnal mirth and revelry ? No ! It 
 is indeed a joyful season, — a season which should awak- 
 en every sentiment of humble and holy gratitude ; — 
 which should lead us instinctively to the courts of God, 
 there to unite with His Church on earth, — with the 
 Church triumphant in heaven, nay, with angels and arch- 
 angels, in ascribing " Blessing and honor, and glory and 
 power, unto Him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto 
 the Lamb, forever." 
 
 " Blessed," said om- Saviour, " are the eyes which see 
 the things which ye see ; for I tell you that many proph- 
 ets and kings have desired to see those which ye see, 
 . and have not seen them ; and to hear those things 
 which ye hear, and have not heard them." The nature, 
 the cause, and the extent, of this blessedness are all em- 
 braced in the words of our text, " And they shall call 
 His name Emmanuel, which, being interpreted is, God 
 with us." It is my design to call your attention to the 
 propriety, with which this name is applied to Cheist our 
 Saviour. 
 
 1. Cheist was so called, because in His person was 
 displayed to an admiring universe, the mysterious union 
 of the Divine, with the human, nature. " God was man- 
 is* 
 
170 
 
 ifested in tlie flesh," and " dwelt among us." He was 
 " very God," as well as ''very man." All the attributes 
 which belong to the Self-existent, the Eternal, — the 
 Almighty, — the infinitely Holy Jehovah, are claimed by 
 the unassuming, the meek, and the lowly Jesus. He 
 was very God. There was nothing wanting in His per- 
 son, which the belicrcr could wish to find in One, whose 
 arm was to rescue him from eternal death. " In Him 
 dwelt all the fulness of the God-head bodily." We 
 must be careful. Brethren, lest our unbelief rob the Re- 
 deemer of a portion of His glory. We degrade and 
 dishonor the Saviour, if, in the smallest degree, we make 
 Him less than God. And not only so, — ^but we rob our 
 ownselves of the only foundation fm-nished by the 
 Scriptures of truth, upon which we can base our hopes 
 of salvation. You may clothe Him with the glories of 
 an angel, or an arch-angel, — ^you may give Him a seat 
 in heaven, far above the aspirations of all the principal- 
 ities and powers of Heaven, yet if you stop short of the 
 throne of God, — if your Eedeemer be not possessed of 
 absolute Omnipotence, your hope will fail you in the 
 hour of extremity. It would seem as if the Bible antic- 
 ipated ovoo want of faith in this glorious truth; and 
 hence it is re-iterated again and again, so that our souls 
 may not build upon the sand, but upon the express as- 
 surances of the Word of God. It is a doctrine which 
 the soul, when brought to see its danger, might imsh to 
 be true, but which nothing, save the revealed testimony 
 of God Himself, could give us any warrant for believing. 
 It is a truth so admirably adapted to the wants of the 
 soulj — so wisely fitted to sustain the sinking energies of 
 the sinner pressed by the weight of his guilty convic- 
 
tions, that his faith will not stagger at the mystery, but 
 joyfully receive the revealed fact, as a most merciful 
 and condescending display of the goodness and love of 
 his pardoning God. To the ear of the sinner who has 
 never felt one pang of remorse for his numerous offencea 
 against a God of love, — who has never had those hun- 
 gerings and thirstings after righteousness which charac- 
 terize the children of God, there is nothing which 
 sounds more strange, more unintelligible ! His eye is 
 fixed solely upon the mystery. To him, it is merely a, 
 speculative, not a practical, truth. And hence his in- 
 quiries are not, " Where is God my Saviour ?" " that 
 there were some days man between us, who might lay 
 his hand upon us both," but his question is one of cold 
 incredulity, " Hoio can these things be ?" The wisest 
 of all earth's children never could satisfy such an in- 
 quiry. The saint and the sinner must both receive the 
 truth, as a m,ystery. 
 
 You may go where you will in this world of ours, — i 
 you may enter the counting-house of the merchant, the 
 shop of the artisan, or the field of the husbandman, you 
 will find mysteries, no more capable of being explained 
 by the wisdom of man, than this " great mystery of god- 
 liness, God manifest in the flesh." Can the merchant 
 understand the nature of the winds, which come and go 
 as they list ? And yet he unhesitatingly commits to 
 them, his ships laden with rich merchandise. If, instead 
 of thus making use of an agent, whose nature and oper- 
 ations he cannot understand, he were to sit down, with 
 the determiuation of first solving the mystery of the, 
 winds, we should take him for a madman. Does the 
 husbandman understand the process by which his crops 
 
are ripened ? Can he tell how it is, that the decaying 
 seed should send up from its bed of corruption, the 
 fields of waving grain, and furnish wholesome nutriment 
 for man and beast? And yet, year after year, he 
 plows his furrows, and plants his grain, with the cer- 
 tainty, under an ordinary blessing, of receiving the fruits 
 of his labor. In so doing, he acts the part of wisdom ; 
 the study of a life would never teach him, how those 
 things can be. And his desire to understand it, is as 
 nothing, when compared with the conviction that he 
 must work, or be deprived of his daily bread. He is 
 content to ^nake use of the mystery, instead of wasting 
 his time, in endeavors to explain it. 
 
 Take another illustration, more, perhaps, to our pur- 
 pose. Two men sit down to a table loaded with the 
 luxuries of a feast. One is fainishing for the want of 
 food ; — ^the other has no apjDetite. The former attends 
 immediately to the cravings of himger. With the in- 
 stincts of a hungry man, he eats and asks no questions. 
 The other plays the philosopher; and curiously in- 
 quires into the chemical combination and proportions 
 of the several articles before him. He puzzles himself 
 with questions which no earthly wisdom can answer, 
 and because, he feels not the necessity which presses so 
 heavily on the other. Now in these several illustra- 
 tions, you have the difference between the conduct of 
 the sinner, and that of the believer ; and also the rea- 
 eons for this difference. The mystery of an Incarnate 
 God addresses itself to the necessities of our condition 
 as sinners. Nothing less than this can furnish an ade- 
 quate ground of hope ; no other than such a Saviour 
 could stand between rebellious man and his offended 
 
173 
 
 God. And when the soul becomes fully sensible of her 
 spiritual wants, and approaches the rich ' repast in the 
 Gospel, as an hungry soul; — when she hears that 
 through faith in the mediation of her incarnate God, 
 her sins may be blotted out, she sees a fitness in the 
 provision, — a glory in the mystery, — an appropriateness. 
 in the remedy, which swallows up every thought but 
 that of thanksgiving to the God of her salvation. God 
 asks of us in religion nothing more than He asks of us 
 in the common concerns of life. Let the mysteries of 
 religion be treated, as you treat the mysteries to be met 
 in your daily walks, and we shall hear no more about 
 the unreasonableness of faith. 
 
 We have then an Aknighty Saviour, — one who, by 
 virtue of His Divine nature, shed an infinite lustre and 
 virtue upon the sufferings and the sacrifice of the man 
 Christ Jesus. We worship Him as our God. We bear 
 in grateful remembrance the love which induced the 
 Eternal Son to veil the majesty of the God-head in hu- 
 man flesh. We hail Him as our Emmanuel, God with 
 us. And though a mystery to our feeble wisdom, we 
 forget the difficulty, in the fitness, — the love, — the con- 
 descension, which claim our grateful praise. 
 
 But the wisdom of the plan of redemption would be 
 but half developed, if we regarded merely the divinity 
 of our Saviour. It is indeed a great consolation to 
 know that we have an Advocate with the Father, pos- 
 sessed of a power, and a wisdom, and a goodness, capa- 
 ble of sustaining the cause of all who commit their in- 
 terests to His keeping. But we need more than this ; 
 we need a Saviour, whose sympathies we can claim, as 
 one touched by the feeling of our infirmities ; one whom 
 
174 
 
 ■we can approach with the sacred familiarity of breth- 
 ren, — one who is bone of our bone, and flesh of our 
 flesh. And here too, God has condescended to our 
 wants. " The "Word was made flesh." Jesus Christ 
 was very man, — in all respects like one of us, sin only 
 excepted. He possessed a perfect human body, and a 
 perfect human soul. Like us, He was ushered into this 
 world, a feeble infant, and passed through all the grada- 
 tions from infancy to manhood. He hungered, and He 
 thirsted : and the sensations produced by the recurrence 
 of these natui-al appetites, were as real and as keen in 
 the man Christ Jesus, as in any one of our sinful race. 
 His frame was subject to the weariness of travel, and 
 the fatigues of exposure. As a man. He enjoyed the 
 attachments, and the sympathies, of friendship. He 
 wept over the grave of Lazarus, and mingled His tears 
 with those of the afflicted family. Li proportion as He 
 was sensible of the kindness of His friends. He must 
 have felt the cruel neglect with which He was usually 
 treated. As a man. He suffered, — how truly ! — ^when 
 the knotted scourge tore His sacred flesh, and the crovm 
 of thorns sent the warm blood streaming from His tem- 
 ples. As a man, He felt the torture of the nails which 
 fastened His hands and His feet to the shameful cross, 
 and knew all the agonies of a dying hour. The Bible 
 reveals to us the humanity of Christ, in terms just as 
 absolute as those, in which it speaks of His divinity. 
 ' It gives Him all the attributes of a man, as clearly as it 
 gives Him all the attributes of a God. If we keep this 
 in view, we shall see at once, how unreasonable is the 
 conduct of those, who reject the Divinity of the Saviour, 
 simply because they find expressions in the Bible, 
 
175 
 
 which represent Him as a man. It would be just as 
 proper to deny His humanity, because we can bring 
 proof-texts in evidence of His Divinity. A true faith 
 embraces both, — not only as the subject of revelation, 
 but because she sees them to be clearly necessary, to 
 complete the character of the great Mediator between 
 God and man. " For we have not an High Priest," says 
 the Apostle, " who cannot be touched with the feeliag of 
 our infirmities, but was, in all points, tempted like as 
 we are, yet without sin. For as much then, as the 
 children are partakers of flesh and blood. He also Him- 
 self took part of the same, that through death, He might 
 destroy him that had the power of death, that is, the 
 Devil; and deliver them, who through fear of death, 
 were all their life-time, subject to bondage. Wherefore, 
 in all things it behooved Him to be made like unto His 
 brethren, that He might be a merciful and faithful High 
 Priest, in things pertaining to God, — to make reconcili- 
 ation for the sins of the people. For, in that He Him- 
 self hath suffered, being tempted. He is able to succor 
 them that are tempted." 
 
 I know. Brethren, that it is hard for the pride of hu- 
 man reason to stoop to an implicit faith in anything; 
 and there is no doctrine of the Bible, against which she 
 has wielded the weapons of her warfare more sturdily, 
 than the one which we have been endeavoring to unfold. 
 The difficulty lies, as we have already remarked, in 
 treating the question as one which in its own indepen- 
 dent nature, is the subject of a philosophical analysis, 
 instead of considering it as a great fact in the system of 
 revealed truth, bearing a very important and essential 
 relation to other parts of that system. If this be taken 
 
176 
 
 away, all the fundamental articles of the Christian faith 
 must go with it. It is the key-stone in the fabric ; and 
 if you wrench this from its position, the whole will fall 
 into ruins. Of this its antagonists are fully aware ; and 
 it is a solemn and painful truth, that in order to sustain 
 their consistency in denying the Deity of Christ, they 
 are compelled to deny that He made any atonement for 
 man, and then, of course, that man needs any atonement. 
 
 Thus you will see that the faith of the believer rests 
 upon this doctrine, not only because God has rerealed 
 it, but because of its fitness to answer a purpose in the 
 great scheme of Redemption; — ^because he sees, that 
 unless it be true, however mysterious, his sins cannot be 
 forgiven, and there is no medium of access to the 
 Father. Pressed with the load of his guilt, he gladly 
 listens to the voice of Christ, '' Fear not ! I am Alpha 
 and Omega, the Beginning and the Ending, saith the 
 Lord, which is, and which was, and which is to come, — 
 the Almighty." " I am He which liveth, and was dead, 
 and behold I am alive forevermore, amen ; and have the 
 keys of hell and of death." 
 
 It is safe to trust the soul to the care of such a Sa- 
 viour ! 
 
 2. The name Emmanuel is properly applied to our 
 Saviour, in reference to the object to he effected by His 
 incarnation. That object was a reconciliation between 
 God and man. It was to raise the sinner from the 
 guilt and love and slavery of sin, and make him a par- 
 taker of the holiness of God, and of the liberties of the 
 sons of God. It was to restore that communion be- 
 tween God and man, which was forfeited in Paradise, — 
 to re-create the soul, which then lost her epiritural life, 
 
177 
 
 and to renew in her those lineaments of the divine 
 purity, which were effaced by the catastrophe of the fall. 
 This purpose was recognised in that song of the angelic 
 multitude, Avho, at the annomicement of om- Redeemer's 
 birth, suddenly burst upon the view of the astonished 
 shepherds, praising God, and saying, " G-lory to God in 
 the highest, and on earth peace, good will towards men." 
 And good old Simeon too, that just and devout man, 
 waiting for the consolation of Israel, — -he recognised it, 
 when, taking the infant Jesus in his arms, he " blessed 
 God, and said. Lord ! now lettest Thou Thy servant 
 depart in peace, according to Thy word ; for mine eyes 
 have seen Thy salvation!" what a sacredness is 
 thrown around the manger in Bethlehem, when we think 
 that it was the birth-place of Him, whose toils and ag- 
 onies were to redeem the soul from everlasting death ! 
 And the joy with which we contemplate the incarnation 
 of the Son of God, should ever be a joy, chastened with 
 a due solemnity. It should be the joy of a sinner res- 
 cued from the bondage of his corruptions,— r-a joy bear- 
 ing some faint resemblance to that which swells the an- 
 thems of the spirits of just men made perfect in heaven. 
 To save the immortal soul, is a work which can be ac- 
 complished by almighty power alone. It is a work 
 which commanded the attention of infinite wisdom, and 
 called into activity the energies of all the Divine attri- 
 butes. K we look at the achievment itself, at the gra- 
 cious 7-esult, it is enough to awaken our undjdng grati- 
 tude. Can you measure the amount of suffering which 
 the soul will endure, if shut out forever from communion 
 with God ? Can you measure its capacity for suffering, 
 and that capacity increasing every moment as eternity 
 
 16 
 
178 
 
 shall enlarge and strengthen its powers of endiu'ance ? 
 Can you understand what it is to lose forever the priv- 
 ilege of God's blissful presence ? It is the light -which 
 beams from His countenance, that sheds upon this 
 world of sin all its beauty. It is because He is not wil- 
 ling as yet, to visit the sinner with the full outpouring 
 of His wrath, that there is any happiness enjoyed by His 
 ungrateful creatures. It is because His kind voice is 
 heard, in the gracious invitations of His G-osijel, that the 
 sinner does not now take up his everlasting and un- 
 availing lament. It is because a Saviour has visited 
 this apostate world, and by the shedding of His blood 
 has purchased the means of returning to God, that God 
 waits in much long-suffering and mercy. The way is 
 now open to the mercy-seat. Christ has suffered in 
 our own nature to atone for sin ; and He now stands at 
 the right hand of the majesty on high, to introduce into 
 the glories of the Father's Kingdom, all who will come 
 unto Him. Behold what a scheme of light and glory 
 has been unfolded amidst the darkness of this sin- 
 lienighted world ! But " the light shineth in darkness, 
 and the darkness comprehendeth it not." how true 
 this is ! How few there are, who see and adore the 
 compassions of Emmanuel ! How few there are, who 
 shew that they comprehend and value the design of His 
 visit, by forsaking the sins that brought Him from 
 heaven ! How few there are, who tread in that strait 
 and narrow path, which He trod before them ! Breth- 
 ren! if there be any one thing more than another, cal- 
 culated to teach the important relations we sustain in 
 the universe of God, it is the reflection, that for our 
 sakes, the Son of God became incarnate. Important 
 
11^ 
 
 indeed must have been the object which led to such a 
 step as this ! vast the benevolence ! unsearchable the 
 lo?e ! And can we be indifferent ? Will we suffer 
 every other object to engross our thoughts, save the 
 one great object of saving our immortal souls ? Is sin a 
 trifle ? can eternal woe be endured ? can heaven be 
 lost without a sigh ? can you bear to part with every 
 opportunity of mercy ? to have the door forever closed 
 against your return to God ? It was our sins that drew 
 from the Saviour His tears and blood ; it was to save 
 the soul ffom woe that He became like one of us ; it 
 was to raise you to the joys of heaven, that He burst 
 the bars of the sepulclu-e, and is now as a triumphant 
 Mediator extending His invitation, " Come ! for all 
 things are now ready ! " God is ready to receive all that 
 will come to Him ia the name of His well-beloved Son. 
 Cheist is ready, and more than ready, to wash from 
 their sins, in His own blood every penitent and retm-n- 
 ing sinner. The Holy Spirit is ready, to sanctify and 
 bless with His enlightening and purifying influences, all 
 who will humbly seek them at the hands of a munificent 
 Saviour. A banquet of rich and spiritual joys is spread 
 before you. Eternal life is offered, and you are entreat- 
 ed to embrace it, not only by the dread of an eternal 
 banishment from the presence of the ever-blessed God, 
 but by the condescension, the tears, the pains, the dying 
 woes, of His only-begotten Son ! 
 
0ermon 13. 
 
 THE PAST EEQUIEED. 
 
 (end of the yeak.) 
 
 EccLES. III. 15. — " God requtretK that wMch is past." 
 
 A sense of accountability is rarely felt as it should be. 
 Every tendency of the mind is to shake off restraint, — 
 to live as though each one was his own Lawgiver, — as 
 though the past would be forgotten, and the future never 
 be disturbed by unpleasant remembrances. This pro- 
 pensity on the part of man, it may safely be af&rmed, is 
 the fruitful parent of much of his sin, and consequent 
 suffering. K any soul should be lost in consequence of 
 such an imhappy delusion, the blame can never be 
 charged upon God. For whilst He has faithfully ad- 
 monished us of the future, He has no less accurately in- 
 structed us, as to the character of this present life. It 
 is a state ot preparation for the future. As such, it is 
 clothed with unspeakable solenmity and importance. 
 Our days and hoiu-s are crowded with incidents, which 
 
181 ' 
 
 may seem trivial, if regarded simply in their connection 
 with the life which now is, but which assmne a fearful 
 significance, when viewed as the seeds of a future har- 
 vest. They are the dealings of God with us, — of a God 
 who is to be our Judge, — who will suifer no transaction 
 of our lives to be covered in oblivion, but will confront 
 us with them again, when He shall call us from our 
 graves, to His bar of judgment. " God requireth that 
 which is past." 
 
 The subject. Brethren, which is presented by our text, 
 is an appropriate one for our meditations, at the pre- 
 sent solemn and impressive season. The last Sabbath 
 of the year has dawned upon us. Its hours can never 
 be recalled, — but they will meet us again, not as hours 
 of probation, — not as moments big with the offers of 
 mercy, — but as God's witnesses, either for or against us, 
 when the judgment shall be set, and the books opened. 
 It becomes us, then, as responsible beings, to -reflect 
 deeply and frequently upon the past, — to anticipate, as 
 it were, the day of final account, and see how matters 
 stand between our souls and God, that we may be pre- 
 pared to render an account of our stewardship with joy. 
 I would ask your attention, therefore, to a brief review 
 of the year which is now just closing. 
 
 1. Let us apply this review,- in the first place, to om- 
 religious privileges, and means of grace. 
 
 K salvation be the richest boon of Heaven to a fallen 
 world ; if, to be saved eternally, through the blood of 
 the everlasting Covenant, be the theme of our gratitude 
 here, and will add new energies to our song of praise 
 in Heaven, then nothing can be deemed unimportant, 
 which will lead to so glorious a result. If the end be 
 
182 
 
 important, the means to that end must possess a corres- 
 ponding importance. K they be divinely connected, 
 then a wilful neglect of the one, must lead to a forfeit- 
 ure of the other. In religion, God treats us as creatures 
 endowed with reason, and with capabilities of exertion. 
 There is no " royal road" to eternal happiness, any 
 more than there is to worldly prosperity and abundance. 
 It is as true in the one, as in the other, that " the hand 
 of the diligent maketh rich, while the soul of the slug- 
 gard desii'eth, and hath nothing." And hence the true 
 worshipper of God, replenished with the consolations of 
 the Spirit, and exulting in the hopes of the Gospel, will 
 never fail to offer his tribute of gratitude for the " means 
 of grace," as well as for the " hope of glory." For it is 
 in the faithful use of these means, that this hope is ob- 
 tained, strengthened, and perfected ; and it is in their 
 abandonment, that we are shorn of our spiritual strength 
 and comfort. It will not be difficult then, to perceive 
 how much it depends upon our fdelity, whether our 
 spirits are rejoicing in the unsearchable riches of the 
 Saviour's love, or whether we are pining in despondency 
 and gloom, — ^whether our souls are saved or lost. Oh ! 
 how great have been our privileges, how vast and 
 solemn will be our responsibilities ! All that we need 
 to know of God and of ourselves, of our dangers and of 
 our duty, has been communicated- to us with a clearness 
 and a fulness which leaves us nothing to ask or to desire. 
 The blessed Volume of Inspiration is in our hands, with 
 its treasures of spiritual instruction, warning, and pro- 
 mise. The Sabbath with its hours for meditation, — ^for 
 Christian communion, and prayer and praise, comes with 
 its weekly blessings, gently inviting us from the cares 
 
183 
 
 of the world, — throwing around us its hallowed stillness, 
 and pointing us to the serenity of that eternal Sabbath, 
 of which this is but the shadow and the pledge. A 
 Saviour crucified, — the hope and joy of the weary and 
 heavy-laden, — is proclaimed as the sinner's refuge. The 
 way to the Mercy-seat is open, through which we may ap- 
 proach to a God who loves to have us make known our 
 wants to Him, — who supplies the needy, — strengthens 
 the feeble-minded, and comforts those who mourn. In 
 public, and in private, amid the congregation of His 
 people, or in our own chosen hours of retirement, we 
 may commune with Him, whom truly to know and love, 
 is everlasting life. Who can estimate the magnitude of 
 such blessings ! None, Brethren, but the God who has 
 given them to us. None but He who knows the value 
 of the soul, and in compassion to its wants has provided 
 us a Saviour, and a knowledge of His truth ; and from 
 day to day, and from year to year, calls us, by the in- 
 vitations of His Word and the pleadings of His Spirit, 
 to forsake the way of death, and enter the narrow path 
 of life. He alone can tell all the mighty consequences 
 of improving or of neglecting His proffered mercies. 
 Prom those who have enjoyed them, God will rigidly 
 exact an account of the manner in which they have been 
 improved. 
 
 God has been pleased to spare us during the year 
 that is closing ; and as we stand upon the threshold of 
 another, we can engage in no employment more profit- 
 able than reviewing the past. It will aid in preparing 
 us to meet the duties and the trials of the year that is 
 before us. 
 
 What then have been the fruits of your religious priv- 
 
184 
 
 ileges and means of grace ? Have you faithfully used 
 them, as the expressions of a tender regard on the part 
 of your Heavenly Father ? The same love which led 
 the Saviour to the Cross, has given you the precious 
 Word of Truth, — His Sabbaths, and much besides, vrell 
 calculated to make you wise unto salvation. But has 
 Heavenly wisdom been gathered from their possession ? 
 Have you learned to love the Saviour ? to revere His 
 commandments ? to engage in His service ? Or are 
 you still like the barren fig tree, a cumberer in the 
 Lord's vineyard, and destined, perhaps before another 
 year of trial shall have terminated, to be cut down, 
 and become fuel for the flame ! Has the Bible been 
 read and studied, as a message from God unto youl 
 Are its precepts regarded ? its consolations felt ? its 
 hopes indulged ? or has it been to you a sealed Book ? 
 its pages seldom, if ever, examined ? its themes as dis- 
 tasteful, and as little understood, as ever ? Has the 
 Sabbath been regarded as a day sacred to the Lord ? 
 its hours devoted to the great subjects of the soul and 
 eternity ? Has it been a day of rest to the body, and 
 the soul ? Have the Ordinances of the Sanctuary been 
 your delight ? Has the Gospel of a crucified Saviour 
 been listened to and embraced ? Or have you chosen 
 rather to dwell in the tents of ungodliness, than to spend 
 one day in the courts of God's house ? to pi-ovide for 
 the body, and accumulate treasures upon earth, instead 
 of preparing to meet your God and Judge ? Has the 
 closet witnessed your fervent petitions to the God of 
 infinite mercy, that He would not suffer your soul to go 
 down to the realms of eternal death ? Nay, has one 
 such petition crossed your lips, or have you ever bent 
 
185 
 
 the knee in prayer to God ? And can it be that a whole 
 year of such privileges has passed, — and all been ne- 
 glected ? Oh ! wonder not, then, that you are still a 
 stranger to the grace of the Lord Jesus. Wonder not 
 that the Bible is to you a Book of dark sayings and 
 that the Gospel of the Saviour is a hidden and inscru- 
 table mystery. " If our Gospel be hid," says St. Paul, 
 "it is hid to them that are lost." A fearful thought; 
 and one which should make every impenitent soul trem- 
 ble, lest God, in righteous retribution, should already 
 have withdrawn His Spirit, and left you to a deserved 
 and fatal blindness. Let the year which is now com- 
 ing, — if God should spare you, — be devoted to the soul. 
 Who can tell, but that, before it closes, your body wUl 
 be rotting beneath the sod, and your soul gone to its 
 place in the world of spirits ? 
 
 And the subject is not without interest to you, my 
 Christian brother, as well as to others. The means of 
 grace are intended not merely to enlighten and instruct 
 the spiritually benighted, but to sustain and strengthen 
 and console the believer. And as long as the days of 
 your prilgrimage shall last, you will need to be nourish- 
 ed from these streams of divine mercy. You cannot 
 neglect them, without detriment to the soul; and if 
 faithfully and properly used, the Spu-it of God will richly 
 bless you with an increase in every grace. How is it, 
 then, with your soul ? Have you explored more thorough- 
 ly the breadths and depths of God's Holy Word ? and 
 has the secret of the Lord been more extensively re- 
 vealed ? Has the throne of grace become more than 
 ever, the place of your resort, and communion with your 
 God, sweeter and more proiiteible than when the yeai" 
 
186 
 
 commenced ? Has secret, as well as public, prayer been 
 among jour favorite occupations ? Haxe you met God 
 in His Sanctuary ? and in partaking of the emblems of 
 the Saviour's love, have your souls been nourished with 
 the Bread of eternal life ? Has the thought of death be- 
 come more welcome ? your confidence in the sustaining 
 power of your Redeemer, greater ? your hope of Heaven 
 brighter ? and can you rejoice in the thought that your 
 salvation is now nearer, than when you believed ? If so, 
 give God the praise, and in dependence upon the grace 
 of His Spirit, persevere unto the end. Let another year 
 witness your still increasing strength, your constant ap- 
 proaches to the rest of the Christian pilgrim. But if blast- 
 ing and mildew have fallen upon you, if you have left yom* 
 first love, and the world has begun to resiune its banefiil in- 
 fluence, — 0, remember that such things cannot be, with- 
 out the notice of Him, who hath bought you with His 
 own blood, and who watches with a holy jealousy, every 
 departure of His servants from their sworn fidelity. 
 Eemember that God wUl require it. He now requires 
 it. He requires you candidly and devoutly to examine 
 yoin-selves. Fear not to discharge the duty, as in the 
 sight and presence of your Maker. stem the current 
 now, lest it become too strong for your resistance. Re- 
 deem the time ; that if during another year, your seat in 
 this earthly Sanctuary should become vacant, you may 
 join the glad songs of the redeemed in Heaven, and 
 your memory on earth be blessed. 
 
 2. Let us, in the second place, apply this re\aew to 
 om- particular and individtml mercies. 
 
 The foregoing remarks have referred to such dispen- 
 sations of the Divine goodness, as are common to us 
 
187 
 
 all. The Gospel is a feast of fat tilings, of wMch every 
 one is at liberty to partake. The invitation is ad- 
 dressed to every famishing soul — " Ho ! every one that 
 thirsteth." If the Saviour's grace has been imparted to 
 any soul, in smaller measures than to another, the fault 
 must be with that soul, and not in the want of means or 
 opportunities ; and if any have been peculiarly favored 
 with the Divine presence, it may be traced to a corres- 
 ponding diligence in living near to God, and in suppli- 
 cating the tokens of His love. The promises of the 
 Gospel are addressed indiscriminately to all. But God 
 makes Himself known and felt in other ways, than in 
 the bestowal of spiritual blessings. He is the God of 
 Providence as well as of Grace. In this department 
 of God's dealings, many, if not all of you, will be able 
 to find some reasons for special gratitude to your great 
 Protector. And if your review be guided by a humbled 
 heart, your difficulty will be, not in remembering mer- 
 cies, but in remembering them all. To number them 
 indeed would be impossible. To do it, you must count 
 the moments that have past — every breath you have 
 drawn, every pulse that has throbbed. But have there 
 not been some mercies of a striking and peculiar char- 
 acter ? some, perhaps, which might not impress others, 
 but which your own heart knows how to value, and 
 which, at the time, you felt to be very seasonable and 
 remarkable displays of Divine goodness ? Have you 
 not been delivered from some threatening danger? 
 some deadly accident, which, had it not been prevented 
 by the hand of God, would have hurried your soul with 
 all her sins into a dreadful eternity ? When sorrow 
 seemed about to overwhelm you, and the cloud of aflBic- 
 
188 
 
 tion was throwing its dark shadow across your path, 
 and yon were girding up your mind for the trial, has 
 He not kindly interposed, and stilled your trembling 
 apprehensions, and wiped away your tears ? Perhaps 
 that dying frame of yours has felt more sensibly the 
 symptoms of its mortality, and you have feared that 
 death was about to claim you as his victim ; — you knew 
 that none but God could help you, and your secret 
 prayer to Him was, " spare me a little, before I go 
 hence, and be no more seen !" You felt that you were 
 not prepared to die,— and God saw it too, and in mercy 
 to your soul, He has led you back from the gates of the 
 grave, and you are here, the monument of His forbear- 
 ing love. Did you not form some resolution at that 
 time, that if the opportimity should be once more yours, 
 you would begin at once the great work of your soul's 
 salvation? God heard that resolution, and He has 
 written it in His book of remembrance, and you your- 
 self will remember it again. When the cold hand of 
 death shall be upon you, your broken vow wiU be a 
 heavy weight upon yoiu- fainting soul. Doubtless there 
 are other instances known only to yourself and God, in 
 which the Father of mercies has manifested His special 
 kindness to you. it is a solemn thing, to be thus 
 singled out, as it were, by the hand of God. In the 
 ordinary blessings of life, you lose yourself in the mul- 
 titude, and are apt to forget your individual obligations 
 to the Almighty ; but when He deals with you alone, 
 and meets with you not in common mercies, but in acts 
 of love, you have an interest which none can feel like 
 yourself; it brings God very near to the soul, and im- 
 poses peculiar responsibilities. Such transactions have 
 
189 
 
 in their very nature, a tendency to awaken reflection, to 
 make one feel the existence of that unseen Being who 
 hides Himself behind His works ; — and if the impres- 
 sions immediately induced by them are cultivated and 
 improved as they should be, God will doubtless crown 
 them with the graces of His Spirit. He will not fail, 
 therefore, to require them at your hands. They will 
 enter largely into that account which you must render 
 at the judgment seat of Christ. Begin then to deal 
 faithfully with your soul now. What have been the 
 fruits of these indi\T[dual mercies ? Have they been re- 
 membered ? Have they implanted any permanent sense 
 of gratitude, and are you this day striving to render 
 imto God the tribute which He asks for all His good- 
 ness ? Or are you still insensible, still halting between 
 two opinions, — still unsubdued by the kindness of your 
 Benefactor ? It is a fitting time to make these inqui- 
 ries. This year, nay, this day, may be the last in which 
 God wiU continue His mercies. To-morrow, He may 
 begin to lay upon you the rod of bitter affliction. To- 
 morrow ! who can count upon to-morrow ? Before 
 the morrow's sun shall rise again, the night of death may 
 shroud yom* soul in eternal gloom. But should you 
 live to see it rise and set for many years, those years 
 to you may be filled with days and nights of weariness 
 and trembling, till existence become a burden. And, 
 worse than all, God may abandon you to unmitigated 
 fears, and when you call again upon Him, there may be 
 none to answer — the day of mercy, both for time and 
 eternity, may have closed. it is no light thing to 
 hesitate upon the question, whether you will serve God 
 or not. Choose ye this day, whom ye will serve. If 
 
 17 
 
190 
 
 the Lord be God, follow Him. K He be -worthy of 
 your love, then love Him. If His favor be better than 
 life, then seek it, until you find it. If His wrath cannot 
 be borne, then linger not upon the borders of the abyss, 
 till your feet stumble into its dreadful billows ! 
 
 HI. God requires a review of your sorrotos and af- 
 JUctions. 
 
 If some have been delivered from suffering, when it 
 threatened to fall upon you — if the uplifted rod has 
 been withdrawn, so that your sorrows have been turned 
 into joy, — I may possibly be speaking to some one or 
 more, unto whom the waters of a full cup have been 
 wrung out. " Every heart knows its own bitterness," 
 — and it would be strange indeed, if all had not had 
 their hours of trouble; — seasons when everything on 
 earth seemed dark and dreary; when the objects most 
 loved have been removed; — when bright hopes have 
 been dashed, — and the pillow has been wet with tears 
 of disappointment and of anguish. Now a worldly com- 
 forter would tell you to try and forget all this ; and in 
 many cases, the advice is heeded. The lapse of time, 
 — the frivolous, or even the serious, and necessary, avo- 
 cations of life, may gradually, but effectually, obliterate 
 every remembrance of sorrow. 5Ian is so constituted, 
 that even the keenest pangs of gi'ief will measurably 
 yield to the successive impressions which each passing 
 day and hour are creating. But this is the refuge of 
 infidelity. God would not have you forget these deal- 
 ings. It would be trifling with Him, and with yom* best 
 and eternal interests to do so. God afflicts in very 
 faithfulness. He would have you cherish, with the ut- 
 most fidelity, every remembrance of the gaU and the 
 
191 
 
 wormwood, until it is sanctified to tlie good of your soul, 
 and the display of His glory. Afliiction 1 "What is 
 there like it, to soften the heart, and accomplish the 
 salutary purposes of Heaven ? What is there that will 
 so wean us from the world,— its follies and its flatteries, 
 — ^nay, even its sober business ? How instinctively, at 
 such seasons, does the soul turn with loathing from 
 whatever earth can offer ! How does the heart yearn 
 for that better world, whose happiness, once felt, is felt 
 forever ! " Afflictions then are designed to do us good," 
 and we should labor for a remembrance of them. They 
 are among the things that are past, which God requireth. 
 Have they wrought their intended effect ? What bene- 
 fit have you derived from them ? They are generally 
 the last method which God takes, to bring the prodigal 
 to Himself; and if they fail of their purpose, there is 
 danger that your latter state will be worse than your 
 first. " It is an awful thing to come out of trouble, for 
 it wiU leave you either better or worse than it finds 
 you." Nothing is so wholesome, if properly improved ; 
 nothing so dangerous, if encountered by a rebellious 
 will, and an unhumbled heart. Let the past year then, 
 in this particular, be one of serious review. Try to re- 
 member the instances in which God has known yom- 
 soul in adversity ; and bearing in mind the solemn warn- 
 ing, — "He that being often reproved, hardeneth his 
 neck, shall suddenly be destroyed, and that without 
 remedy," try to gather the instruction which is to be 
 derived from the seasons of your darkness and distress. 
 think not, because the present hour is filled with 
 gladness, that therefore it is well with thee. Your sun 
 may soon be clouded again, — and go down in eternal 
 
192 
 
 night. Another year, with its means of grace, its pro- 
 vidential mercies, and its unknown sorrows, lies before 
 you. Are you resolved to spend it as the last has been 
 spent? Shall its days and weeks and months pass to 
 a close, and your soul still be wrapt ia spiritual dark- 
 ness ? yom- heart still imblest with the joys of salvation ? 
 Or, shall it witness your reconciliation to God, your 
 union by a living faith to the Saviour ? and Heaven be 
 a scene of joy over one more repenting sinner ? Xeed 
 I say that much, very much, depends upon yourself 
 The plan and means of salvation are finished on the 
 part of God ; — and His invitation is, " Come, for all 
 things are now ready." 
 
0evmon 1^. 
 
 THE PRAYER OF MOSES. 
 
 Exodus xxxiii. 18-23. — "And Moses said, I beseech Thee, 
 shew me Thy glory. And He said, I will make all My goodness 
 pass hejore thee, and I will proclaim the name of the Lord before thee, 
 and will be gracious to whom I will be gracious, and will show mercy 
 on whom I will show mercy. And He said, thou canst not see My face 
 — for there shall no man see Me and live. And the Lord said. Be- 
 hold, there is a place by Me, and thou shalt stand upon a rock ; and it 
 shall come to pass, while My glory passeth by, that I will put thee in 
 the cleft of the rock, and will cover thee with My hand while I pass 
 by ; and I will take away My hand, and thou shalt see My back 
 parts ; but My face shall not be seen." 
 
 The text is a portion of Moses' intercession witli God, 
 when Israel provoked Him to anger, by making and 
 worshipping the golden calf. Like a faithful shepherd 
 of the flock which God had committed to his charge, the 
 first subject of his earnest supplication in that awful emer- 
 gency, was, that the Lord would pardon the sin of His 
 people. Their exposure to the consuming anger of God, 
 lay like a heavy burden upon his soul, and he not only 
 seemed to forget himself in an absorbing anxiety for 
 their deliverance, but he proceeds, as if in an agony of 
 
194 
 
 prayer, to an expression of his willingness to be excluded 
 himself from the favor of God, if the people, for whose 
 safety he pleaded, might not be pardoned. " Yet now, 
 if Thou wilt forgive their sin, — and if not, blot me, I 
 pray Thee, out of the book which Thou hast written." 
 How forcibly does this remind us of One greater than 
 Moses, — the great Shepherd and Bishop of souls, who 
 Himself bore our sins in His own body on the tree, that 
 we might obtain forgiveness and salvation through His 
 blood ! God was pleased to give a gracious answer to 
 the prayer of His servant, and then it was that his soul 
 seems to have been drawn still closer to God in a 
 blessed and holy communion. The goodtiess of God, in 
 forgiving the iniquity of His people, not only relieved 
 his heart of a pressing anxiety, but filled him with a 
 spirit of grateful love. In the endearments of a filial 
 spirit, he seems to nestle like a loving child in the very 
 bosom of his God. He could not consent to leave the 
 presence of a Being so full of mercy and compassion, — 
 but prays that he himself may now be favored with still 
 larger manifestations of His glory. " I beseech Thee, 
 show me Thy glory ! " 
 
 We have thus brought before us the character of a 
 man eminent for holiness, — the most illustrious type of 
 the Eedeemer of sinners. I propose, from what has 
 been said, as well as from the immediate language of 
 the text, to bring to your notice, in the first place, one 
 or two marks of genuine and elevated piety ; and sec- 
 ondly, the significant manner in which God answered 
 the supplication of Moses in his own behalf. 
 
 1. The first thing we notice in the character of emi- 
 nent piety, is a comparative oblivion of self, in an earn- 
 
195 
 
 est zeal for the glory of God, and the salvation of others. 
 We see this exemplified in the conduct of Moses. 
 His first petition was, that God would be merciful for 
 His great Name's sake, and that He would spare Hie 
 people ; and then, having obtained this request, he en- 
 joys himself a privileged season of gracious intercourse 
 with his Covenant Lord. 
 
 True religion, in the individual, must necessarily have '' ' 
 its commencement in the formation of personal charac- ' 
 ter, and in the somewhat exclusive enjoyment of those , 
 new-fledged hopes, which shed their glorious light over 
 the darkness of a soul delivered from the guilt of sin. • 
 The youthful disciple loves to sit at his Saviour's feet, ^ 
 and drink in the instructions, the promises of love and f 
 mercy, which flow from His lips. It is his great delight 
 to seek the retirement of his closet ; he is apt to forget 
 his connection with a world that lieth in wickedness, in 
 the contemplation of his own happiness, and almost to 
 pray that God would at once emancipate him from the 
 bondage of the flesh, and take him to the full enjoyment 
 of his Redeemer's presence. The thought which we are 
 now proposing, is not to be regarded as conflicting at 
 all with these exhibitions of the soul's first love for 
 Christ. It is suggested rather as a point of Christian 
 attainment, an evidence of the soul's growth and expan- 
 sion in the Divine life, — an achievement, it may be, lying^ 
 far along in the believer's path, and to be compassed 
 only by great diligence and culture ; — but still we would , 
 point you to it as perfectly attainable, — as something in . 
 which we are to have an undoubted faith, and altogether ) 
 consistent with the economy of grace. Neither would, 
 we imply that there may ever come a period in the 
 
196 
 
 Christian's experience, when he may neglect the cultiva- 
 tion of personal holiness, or lightly esteem the necessi- 
 ty of looking well to the state of his soul before God. 
 On the contrary, the feature of character to which we 
 allude, is intended to harmonize with the preservation 
 of every Christian grace in its integrity ; — ^nay, it pre- 
 supposes them, as the very basis of its own existence. 
 It is the top-stone in the fabric, and cannot hold its 
 place, unless the foundation and superstructure be un- 
 impaired. The language of Moses, in beseeching the 
 Lord, to blot him out of His Book, rather than visit 
 His people with wrath, must be regarded simply as the 
 impassioned expressions of an earnest mind. And the 
 Lord seems to rebuke him as having spoken with an 
 improper extravagance ; for His reply was, " Whosoever 
 hath sinned against Me, him will I blot out of My 
 book." To suppose, therefore, that one can be ani- 
 mated with love for souls, and an ardent zeal for the 
 glory of God, whilst he is indiiferent to his own salva- 
 tion, or relaxes his efforts in the pursuit of holiness, is 
 to suppose an impossibility. It is not that for which 
 we are contending ; but for that symmetrical develop- 
 ment of the Christian character, by virtue of which, each 
 part becomes duly subordinated to the rest ; — it is for 
 constant accessions of new strength and grace, but for 
 no relinquishment of a single attainment ; — ^it is for the 
 constant advancement of the soul, till it shall reach the 
 stature of its manhood in Christ. 
 
 It becomes important to note the connection of this 
 grace with personal holiness, that we may the more rea- 
 dily distinguish it from a zeal without knowledge, which 
 is loud in denouncing the sins of others, whilst one's 
 
197 
 
 own soul is left to the tyranny of remaining corruption. 
 He A^ho would plead for God, must speak, not only in 
 the words which the Holy Ghost teacheth, but in the 
 light, and with the force, of an example that is the fruit 
 of His own blessed influences. A genuine zeal for God, 
 is not the artificial heat which is struck out from a mind, 
 only when brought into collision with that which con- 
 tradicts, or offends it ; but it is an indwelling power of 
 the soul, acting in its own strength and animated by a 
 pure and prevailing love for that soul's Eedeemer. As 
 such, then, it is commended to your attention ; as an at- 
 taimnent in holiness, — as a mark of eminence in piety, 
 and as something after which every believer should 
 strenously aim. The glory of God is that which He 
 Himself has proposed, as the object and result of all 
 His plans of wisdom and of love. That glory is the 
 song of Angels. The spirits of the just made perfect, 
 echo the song. Jesus died, that God might be glbrified 
 in all His attributes. Moses, and the prophets, and the 
 Apostles, labored vsdth but one paramount desire, that 
 the honor of God might be untarnished, and His glory 
 fill the earth. With how much of the beauty of holiness, 
 did this singleness of aim adorn the character of St. 
 Paul ! When bowed with years and toil, he stood, as 
 it were, upon the threshold of two worlds, hourly ex- 
 pecting a release from all his conflicts. And as he look- 
 ed forward with a calm faith to the glories of Heaven, 
 and backward upon a life of continued service, he was 
 in a strait betwist two, not knowing which to choose, — 
 whether to depart and be with Ckhist, or to remain yet 
 longei', and wia souls to God. But one desire seemed 
 to fill his breast, that God might be glorified, whether 
 
198 
 
 by his life, or by Ms death. Such will be the aspiration 
 of every he art, when brought under the complete do- 
 minion of Divine grace. ! there is a holy abandon- 
 ment of self, which springs, not from presumptuous 
 neglect or indiiference, but from the ripeness and the 
 strength of faith, a faith which apprehends with unwav- 
 ering steadfastness, the sure ground of our salvation ; 
 which ever sees in Jesus an ample sufficiency, and an 
 unchanging love. There is a self-forgetfulness, inspired 
 by an absorbing view of the claims of God to our love 
 and service. Have you not felt it, my Hearers, in 
 some transient moment, when the Lord has caused all 
 His goodness to pass before you ? burst, then, the 
 shackles of spiritual sloth ; press onward for this prize 
 of your high calling, till in the vigor of a matured faith, 
 and a perfected love, you find it the habit of your soul, 
 to think more, far more, of the glory of your God, than 
 of your own salvation; and to pray and strive for the 
 establishment of His kingdom in the world. 
 
 2. The second feature of a truly pious mind, wiU 
 be found in the character of that blessing, which above 
 all others, it seeks for itself, when pleading in its own 
 behalf. "I beseech Thee," says Moses, "shew me Thy 
 glory." This request of the Prophet, shews that a 
 concern for his own personal interest in the Divine favor, 
 was by no means excluded by a paramount zeal for the 
 honor of God, but was only subordinated to a holier 
 and more elevated emotion. The moments that can be 
 spared from active service in the cause of Christ, will 
 be spent in seeking a closer communion with the Re- 
 deemer, and in obtaining larger earnests of our inheri- 
 tance above. And so far as the soul is enabled to rise 
 
199 
 
 above all personal considerations, in its chief concern 
 for the glory of Jehovah, there will be a corresponding 
 enlargement of its desires, in the great work of its own 
 advancement. The path of the believer at first must 
 necessarily be trod with the trembling steps of an in- 
 fant, a babe in Christ. Faith is weak, hope is uncer- 
 tain, confidence in God is a fluctuating grace, and so 
 long as the soul is thus agitated by doubts, and fears, — 
 thoughts of 'self will come in, and engage the attention. 
 When he approaches the mercy-seat, to make known his 
 requests, his prayers will assume a corresponding com. 
 plexion ; and the spirit of praise and thanksgiving will 
 be overborne by a wearing anxiety, lest, after all, he 
 may be mistaken in his hope, or may fail at last of a 
 portion among the children. In our meditations upon 
 God, we are frequently troubled; we think of Him 
 mainly as a Being, from whose wrathful displeasure we 
 are still fleeing, rather than as the Father of our mercies, 
 and the God of all grace. Now so long as this twilight 
 of the soul prevails, it is evident that the sphere of 
 spiritual vision will be very limited. "With such imper- 
 fect apprehensions of God, and so little confidence in 
 Him, we shall see but little of His glory, and can but 
 seldom, if ever, adopt the supplication of Moses. To 
 enter into his feelings, and to use his language aright, 
 we must have less of the spirit of bondage and fear, 
 and more of the spirit of adoption and love. We must 
 be able to approach God with the unsuspecting confi- 
 dence of children. Our faith must be planted firmly 
 upon the unchanging oath and promise of Jehovah. — 
 Our hope must be anchored with unwavering steadfast- 
 ness upon the joys of the blessed ; and then' shall we 
 
200 
 
 be enabled to stand before God, and look upon His 
 glories, till we ourselves are changed into the same 
 image. For ■wherein consists the glory of our G-od ? Is 
 it not in the very freeness of His love to sinners ? Is 
 it not, that He is perfectly willing as well as able, to 
 raise us from the death of sip, to the life and joy of 
 His own eternal kingdom ? Is it not that He will do 
 this for every believer, and yet remain the same spot- 
 less Being, the same just, and holy God ? When we 
 can realize all this, in somewhat of its fulness, — ^when 
 we can plant our feet upon the lofty pedestal of assured 
 faith and hope, then will the thoughts and desires of 
 the soul go forth in a steady stream after God — the 
 God of our salvation — ^tbe God of glory. "We shall 
 be brought very near to Him, in the bonds of the holi- 
 est love ; no happiness will be so great as that of stand- 
 ing in His presence, and studying the wonders of His 
 mysterious grace. Instead of being impelled by any 
 slavish fear, every manifestation of His character will 
 draw the soul still closer to Him. The prayer of 
 Moses will be continually upon the lips, " Lord, I be- 
 seech Thee, show me Thy Glory." In praying for an 
 increase of faith, and for an establishment of hope, it is 
 true, that the believer prays, in some sense, for this 
 manifestation to his soul of the glory of God ; — ^but it 
 is not in the sense in which Moses sought it. His 
 prayer was not the dictate of a trembling and doubting 
 heart, but of a soul already ravished with the splendors 
 of the Divine holiness, — melted and subdued under 
 what he had already witnessed and experienced of the 
 love and condescension of the Infinite Jehovah. He 
 sought it much in the spirit, in which the Angels desire 
 
201 
 
 to look into these things, — wondering, and admiring God 
 for what He is in Himself, — his soul hungering and 
 thirsting after Him, as the portion of his soul, — as the 
 only object worthy the thought of an immortal being. 
 Let us strive then. Brethren, for this exalted privilege 
 of the believer. Struggle to be free from the cords 
 which bind you to earthliness and" sin. Hasten for the 
 confirmation of your soul in every grace of the Spirit, 
 that you may take your station nearer to the throne of 
 Grod, and live in the beams of His glory. Hasten to 
 drink in some blessed anticipations of that day, when 
 with Angels, and Archangels, and with all the company 
 of Heaven, you shall see Him face to face, and live for- 
 ever in the full effulgence of His glories. 
 
 3. We learn from the text, that there is no height of 
 piety, or attainment in Divine knowledge, which can 
 ever carry us beyond the prayer of Moses. 
 
 Who was this, that prayed so humbly and so earnest- 
 ly to be favored with a view of G-od's glory ? It was 
 not the supplication of one, who was seeking for a bless- 
 ing, of which he had as yet known nothing.^ It was 
 Moses, the privileged servant of God, — one who had 
 dwelt with God in the Mount, — who had already beheld 
 such manifestations of His glory, as had never been 
 vouchsafed to mortal man. It was one with whom the 
 Lord had spoken face to face, as a man speaketh with 
 his friend. And yet when he petitions the Almighty for 
 some new token of His favor and love, he can think of 
 no blessing greater in its kind than that which he had al- 
 ready so signally enjoyed, " I beseech Thee, show me 
 Thy glory !" ' Let me take in larger draughts of that cup 
 of joy, of which I have as yet but tasted. My soul has 
 
 18 
 
202 
 
 never known, nor can I imagine, a greater gift than this. 
 {Let me be filled with all the fulness of Thee, my God, 
 i and I ask no more.' Here, indeed, must be the limit of 
 I the soul's desires. The stream can rise no higher than 
 i^ its source. The creature can mount no higher than to his 
 ( Creator. Jehovah fills completely the boundless realms 
 f of His own Eternity. There is no spot in the height 
 f above, or in the depths beneath, to which we may resort, 
 and get beyond the outspreading ocean of His light and 
 i glory. And as the soul can ascend no higher, so in the 
 enjoyment of G-od, she has no higher wish or aim. This 
 is her everlasting resting-place, — the home of the bur- 
 dened spirit, at which the weary pilgrim stops, and be- 
 gins his song of ceaseless praise. Pause not, my Breth- 
 ren, in the race which is set before you ; seek no other 
 refuge for your griefs and fears, till you can repose in 
 God. There, you will find abundant refreshment and 
 rest. No wave of trouble can disturb the serenity of 
 your peace, so long as you dwell in the secret place of 
 the Most High, and abide under the shadow of the Al- 
 mighty. , When_Ha_ci)nd^cends to make your heart 
 _the Temple of His glorious presence, no 'other wish or 
 prayer will ascend from~youF' satisfied spirit, save that 
 of Moses, the man of God, ^' Lord ! I beseech Thee, 
 show me more, still more, of Thy glory !" 
 
 n. We proceed now, as proposed, to the Second 
 division of our subject, viz — the manner in which the 
 Lord answered the request of Moses. If Moses, in the 
 prayer which he offered, expressed a desire that the 
 Lord would make before him a full display of His infi- 
 nite glory, it may be said of him, as of the diciples in 
 the Mount of transfiguration, he knew not what he said. 
 
203 
 
 And the answer of the Lord may be considered, in 
 such case, as a gentle rebuke of the Prophet's presump- 
 tion. And the Lord said, " I will make all my good- 
 ness pass before thee." It is observable that He does 
 not say, all my glory, as Moses had requested. He 
 does not promise to unfold the terrors of His justice, — 
 the unapproachable splendors of His holiness, for this 
 would have been more than any creature can endure ; — 
 but, thou shalt see " all My goodness.''^ The rest of the 
 passage is in the same spirit. " Thou canst not see 
 My face, for there shall no man see Me, and live." By 
 the face of the Lord, we are to understand that undis- 
 guised exhibition of Himself, as He is seen by saints, 
 and Angels, in the habitation of His holiness. That, 
 our sinful nature could not behold without instant de- 
 struction. In the concluding portion of the text, how- 
 ever, the Lord promises to grant the supplication of 
 His servant, so far as the infirmities of the flesh would 
 permit, by covering him with His hand in the cleft of 
 the rock, whilst the overpowering radiance of His glory 
 passed by, and then taking away His hand, when Moses 
 may safely look upon the receding Majesty of Jehgvah. 
 Without entering into the minute particulars of the 
 passage, or considering it distinctly as a typical tran- 
 saction, it will suffice, to regard it, in its general import, 
 as serving, at least, to illustrate God's tender care and 
 love, in revealing Himself to a guilty world. Separated 
 though we are from God by sin, and deserving nothing 
 but an everlasting banishment from His presence, yet 
 He did not utterly forsake us. He has never left us 
 without a witness of Himself, — some token that He 
 willeth not the death of the sinner, but rather that we 
 
204 
 
 turn again unto Him whom we have forsaken, and live 
 again in the bosom of His love. Such a token we have 
 in the glories of creation; though eloquent of the 
 goodness and the power of God, yet, instead of being 
 the positive manifestations of His glory, they are but 
 the hiding of His power. They serve as a veil, to 
 conceal from mortal eye, Him who dwelleth in the light 
 which no man can approach unto. They are but the 
 dim reflection of His glory, — ^the recedings rays of His 
 brightness, who, when man sinned, withdrew in displeas- 
 ure, and hid from him the light of His countenance. — 
 For we know that the material creation has shared in the 
 curse which was pronounced upon the first transgress- 
 or. On that day when " the morning stars sang together, 
 and all the sons of God shouted for joy," we have 
 reason to believe that all this visible glory, by which 
 we are surrounded, shone forth in a manner, and to a 
 degree, of which we can form no conception. But man 
 having sinned, the gold became dim, and the fine gold 
 changed ; and though the Lord covered us with a cloud 
 in His anger, and retired Himself from immediate com- 
 munion with His fallen creature, yet He has left enough 
 to testify of His goodness. The bow in the cloud tells 
 us of mercy in the midst of wrath. The primitive glory 
 of creation was doubtless unfit for man in His degrada- 
 tion and guilt ; it was probably more than he could now 
 look upon, and live ; and hence the Lord graciously cov- 
 ered him with His hand, till its consuming splendor had 
 passed away, and we are now looking, like Moses, as 
 from the cleft of the Eock, upon the diminished radiance 
 of original perfection and beauty. The world in which 
 we live, and the worlds which move about us, are but 
 
205 
 
 the remains of a departed glory, T>?^liich the Lord has 
 taken away in His ■wrath, and yet in how much mercy? 
 both in what He has taken, and in what He has left. — 
 Though we see Him as through a glass darkly, yet we 
 see enough to teach us of His existence. His goodness, 
 and His power, — enough to make us think of some- 
 thing greater than anything we now behold with the 
 eye of sense, enough to suggest to faith, and hope, and 
 love, that new heavens, and new earth, wherein right- 
 eousness again shall dwell, and where the Lord him- 
 self shall be the light. 
 
 But we are reminded by this transaction, of some- 
 thing yet more important, and to which the thoughts of 
 every believer will no doubt instinctively turn. — I mean 
 the work of Christ in the redemption and salvation of 
 the soul. We are reminded of Jesus, the Eock of our 
 salvation — smitten and cleft for sinners, — the soul's 
 only Refuge. In the person of Jesus Cheist, we see 
 the eternal Son of God, the Co-equal of the Father, 
 shrouding in human flesh, the glory which He had with 
 the Father, before the world was, that man might be fa- 
 vored with such a visible display of the Divine attributes, 
 as is suited to his infirmities and wants. In His works 
 and miracles of power and mercy, we see the mild ef- 
 folgence of the Godhead, beaming forth in the most at- 
 tractive and winning form. In His accents of love and 
 compassion to the penitent, how plainly do we hear 
 Jehovah again proclaiming His great and Holy Name. 
 And in the awful woes of Calvary, God has indeed 
 caused all His goodness to pass before us, — when the 
 power of His love was seen, in the flowing tears and 
 blood of the Redeemer. If we would see the true 
 
 18* 
 
206 
 
 glory of Jehovah, we must discern it by the eye of faith, 
 as it is manifested in the Incarnation, and Life and 
 Death of His own dear Son. If we would stand at last 
 with the innumerable multitude before His throne, we 
 must be found in Jesus, " accepted in the Beloved." 
 " I will place thee in the cleft of the rock," said the 
 Lord to Moses, " and will cover thee with My hand, 
 while My glory passeth by." Blessed, thi-ice blessed 
 will they be, who shall be thus covered with the pro- 
 tecting hand of the Almighty, — sheltered in the bosom 
 of a crucified Redeemer, when He shall come again in 
 His own glory, and the glory of His Father, and the 
 Holy Angels. 
 
 Is the prayer of Moses, my Christian brother, the 
 fervent aspiration of your own heart ? Would you see 
 more of the glory of the Lord, as it is not manifested 
 to the world ? Seek it in the Lord Jesus, and in His 
 redeeming work of love. Would you grow in grace, 
 till your soul is moved by the noble impulse of a pre- 
 vailing zeal for the honor, and glory of your Lord ? 
 Seek it in the Lord Jesus, — ^in the freeness of His grace 
 to you, in the largeness of His promises, in those eter- 
 nal and covenant mercies, which have been sealed by 
 His most precious blood. Would you be presented 
 faultless at last before the throne of the Father's glory ? 
 ! cleave unto the Lord Jesus, the only strong hold 
 for the soul, — the only hiding place for guilty man, 
 " when the Lord cometh out of His place, to punish the 
 inhabitants of the earth for their iniquity." 
 
0£rnton 15. 
 
 REQUISITES OF PRAYER. 
 
 (lent. ) 
 
 St. James iv. 3. — " Ye ask, and receive not, because ye ask 
 amiss." 
 
 There is no Christian duty, to the performance of 
 ■which, the belierer has received larger encouragements, 
 than that of Prayer. The Saviour, when on earth, man- 
 ifested a peculiar solicitude, not only in inculcating the 
 discharge of this most reasonable act of religious ■wor- 
 ship, but also in removing from the minds of His disci- 
 ples, whatever doubts and fears they might entertain, as 
 to the willingness of G-od to hear, and to answer, prayer. 
 " Ask, and it shall be given you ; seek, and ye shall find ; 
 knock, and it shall be opened unto you. For every one 
 that asketh, receiveth; and he that seeketh, iindeth; 
 and to him that knocketh, it shall be opened." These 
 are words full of grace and consolation. For the pur- 
 pose of confirming their faith in God's paternal love to 
 
208 
 
 those who humbly seek His face, He makes His appeal 
 to their affection for their own offspring. " If ye then, 
 being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your chil- 
 dren, how much more shall your Heavenly Father give 
 the Holy Spirit to them that ask Him." " Draw nigh 
 unto God," says St. James, " and He will draw nigh unto 
 you." " The Lord is with you," says the Prophet, 
 " whilst ye be with Him, and if ye seek Him, He will be 
 found of you." What promises could be given, more 
 explicit than these ! What stronger assurance could 
 we desire, of the perfect willingness of God to dispense 
 the riches of His mercy ! Why then, it may be asked, 
 does prayer remain so often, and so long, unanswered ? 
 Why is it that the unnumbered petitions which daily 
 and weekly ascend imto the God of aU grace, do not 
 bring down the abundance of His blessings, like show- 
 ers upon the fruitful harvest ? The answer is fmmished 
 by the text ; " Ye ask, and receive not, because ye ask 
 amiss" It is not the formal petitioner who will ob- 
 tain the blessing from God. It is not the careless seek- 
 er, who will find Him ; nor will He deign to draw near 
 unto the man, who draws near unto Him with the lips, 
 while his heart is far from Him. If we are taught to 
 ask, we are admonished also, that we must ask aright. 
 If we are encouraged to seek, we are also reminded of 
 a condition ; " Thou shalt find the Lord, if thou seek 
 Him vnth all thy heart, and with all thy soul." God 
 is the rewarder of them that diligently seek Him. 
 " Lord ! teach us how to pray ! " should ever form a 
 part of our addi-esses to the throne of mercy. The 
 spirit of prayer, must accompany the word of prayer, if 
 we expect God to hear us, and send us an answer of 
 
209 
 
 peace. To mention everything that is requisite to ren- 
 der prayer effectual, would far exceed the ordinary 
 limits of a discourse. A few, however, of the more es- 
 sential and obvious elements of successful prayer may 
 profitably be presented. 
 
 1. "We should ever be deeply impressed with the val- 
 ue of the blessings which we ask. 
 
 It will, of course, be understood, that the blessings re- 
 ferred to, are spiritual blessings. Though God is the 
 Author of every comfort, and though we are completely 
 dependent on Him for every thing that is necessary for 
 the body, as well as for the soul, yet we are taught to 
 seek first the kingdom of God, and His righteousness ; 
 to make the salvation of the soul, the subject of our 
 anxious thoughts, and prayers, and efforts. For every- 
 thing else God will provide. The condition of this 
 perishable body is a matter of but little moment, if 
 eternal interests be secured. It is for this that we are 
 to ask ; for this that we are to seek ; and it is this that 
 God promises to bestow, in answer to fervent and un- 
 ceasing prayer. But to pray for this aright, we must 
 have adequate impressions of the " unspeakable gift of 
 God." If our conceptions be unworthy of the subject, 
 our petitions will be few, and cold, and feeble, and we 
 shall, therefore, ask amiss. But if the heart be warmed 
 by just apprehensions of the " exceeding great and 
 precious promises" of God, — if we have an adoring 
 sense of His infinite condescension, — of the riches of 
 His grace through the Redeemer, and of that eternal 
 weight of glory, which is to be the believer's portion 
 hereafter, our desires after these things will assume a 
 corresponding strength, and our prayers will ascend 
 
210 
 
 with frequency and fervor, to the Author of our eternal 
 salvation. We shall pray aright; and He who feeds 
 the hungry soul with fatness, will answer us accordiug 
 to the urgency of our requests. It is infinite condescen- 
 sion in God, that we are permitted to approach Him in 
 the language of prayer ; it is because His compassions 
 fail not, that He suffers us to plead for mercy. Any 
 favor at His hands, is more than the sinner has a right 
 to expect from the Being whom He has often provoked 
 by his offences. Behold then, the matchless bounty of 
 our God ! Not only does He save us from the un- 
 quenchable fire ; but the treasures of eternity, all that 
 boundless love can bestow upon a creatm-e, are offered 
 for our acceptance, and promised to our prayers. Con- 
 template, for a moment, the magnitude of these bless- 
 ings. Think of the glories of that world, — that Heaven 
 of eternal rest, — the joys of the ransomed spirit. 
 Think of an everlasting redemption from all that you can 
 either fear or suffer, — of being exalted to an equality 
 with Angels, — ^nay, to greater bHss than ever Angels 
 knew. Think of being made completely and forever 
 holy, — of dwelling forever beneath the smile of God, — 
 with " every longing satisfied ; with full salvation 
 crowned." What mind can measure, or what tongue 
 express, the things which God hath prepared for them 
 that love Him ! They are such as the eye hath not 
 seen, nor the ear heard ; neither hath their full concep- 
 tion ever entered the heart of man. But God hath re- 
 vealed them to us, in part at least by His Spirit ; and 
 by a vigorous faith, we can, at times, anticipate, in a 
 measure, what is meant by the soul's eternal salvation. 
 And these are the blessing, which we are taught. 
 
211 
 
 and encouraged, to ask of God in prayer. Oh ! it is 
 for no small favor that we plead — but for benefits which 
 the infinite Mind alone can duly estimate. And when 
 we approach Him with our petitions, we should endea- 
 vor to form adequate impressions of this truth. Then 
 will our prayers be acceptable, and God will give us 
 largely of the earnest of our inheritance. But if our 
 desires after the things which God hath promised, be 
 but feeble, we cannot hope to receive any thing at His 
 hands. We may ask, but we shall not receive, because 
 we shall ask amiss. 
 
 2. A second requisite of acceptable prayer is, a con- 
 viction of our entire dependence upon God for every 
 spiritual blessing. A due realization of that depen- 
 dence, tends to keep the soul in an attitude of unceasing 
 prayer. We have already seen, that consistent views 
 of the magnitude of the blessings sought, will necessarily 
 quicken our desires after them, and add fervor to our 
 requests ; but if with this, there be connected a clear 
 and child-like sense of our utter inability to enjoy, even 
 the least of these mercies, except as God shall bestow 
 them, our prayers will be more frequent and importu- 
 nate. 
 
 Prayer is emphatically the language of helplessness. 
 Strong desires after an object may impel us to active 
 endeavors in obtaining it ; but we shall labor in our own 
 strength, until we feel our perfect weakness, and kneel 
 as beggars at the feet of Christ. The Almighty holds 
 at his own righteous disposal, every good and perfect 
 gift. Not a holy thought, or inclination, or act exists, 
 but as the fruit of His bounty. Every hope that sustains 
 us, every consolation that soothes us, proceeds from the 
 
212 
 
 iaspiration of His Holy Spirit. With Him are all the 
 treasures of wisdom and of knowledge. If He withhold 
 them, the soul is impoverished and ruined. If He impart 
 them, we are strengthened with all might, and enriched 
 with every grace. The condition of their free bestowal 
 is Prayer, but we must pray aright; our petitions must be 
 prompted by a sense of utter helplessness and depend- 
 ence; by a conviction that from God, and from God 
 alone, must come our help ; that in us dwelleth neither 
 strength nor goodness ; and that if God give ns not the 
 blessing, there is no other soui-ce from which we can 
 hope to obtain it. This is the spirit which God will 
 honor and bless, for it is that disposition of mind which 
 honors Him, by directly and practically acknowledging 
 His Almighty power and sovereignty^ With such im- 
 pressions of helplessness abiding upon the soul, God's 
 blessing would be earnestly sought in prayer, by all such 
 as longed for that blessing. Prayer would no longer be 
 a burden. The soul would cleave to this means of 
 grace, as the sinking mariner to his only hope of safety. 
 Who can forgive your sins but God ? Who but He, can 
 impart to your anxious spirit, the blessed assurance that 
 your sins are forgiven ? Who but He, can give you the 
 fuU joys of salvation ? Who but God, can keep you 
 from doubts, and fears, and despair, and shed upon your 
 path the light of Heaven, and bear witness with your 
 spirit, that you are the child of His adoption ? It is He 
 that must sustain you in your Christian walk, and give 
 you the victory at last. Bear all this in mind, when you 
 kneel in prayer, and then your prayer will not be an 
 empty formality ; it will proceed from a heart in earnest, 
 and God will listen, and He, who delights to strengthen 
 
213 
 
 the feeble, aad to exalt the humble, and to supplj- the 
 needy, will open the treasures of His grace, and liber- 
 ally bestow His gifts. Bear this in mind, and you will 
 no longer walk heedlessly in your own strength, re- 
 straining prayer before God, but " as the eyes of ser- 
 vants look unto the hand of their master, and as the 
 eyes of a maiden unto the hand of her mistress, so will 
 your eyes wait upon the Lord, your G-od, until he have 
 mercy upon yoii." 
 
 3. Another requisite of acceptable prayer, is a pro- 
 found sense of our imworthiness. 
 
 The method of salvation proclaimed by the Gospel, 
 is intended, in all its parts, to magnify the free grace 
 and mercy of God. It is a salvation provided by in- 
 finite love, not only for needy and dependent creatures, 
 but for the guilty, for those who deserve not the com- 
 passion of God, but whose sins might justly doom them 
 to litter condemnation. " Not by works of righteous- 
 ness which we have done, but by His mercy He saves us." 
 This is the great doctrine which lies at the foundation 
 of the Gospel, and the spii'it of which, pervades everj' 
 portion of the Word of God. It is a trust in the mercy 
 of God, which can alone inspire us with any confidence 
 towards Him. The moment we begin to mingle with 
 the simple scheme of mercy, any notions of our own 
 merit or worth, that moment our peace will be disturb- 
 ed, our hope become darkened. For then, we are no 
 longer looking for salvation by grace, but are striving to 
 be, mpart, our own Saviour. In such a frame of mind, 
 we shall either not be able to come with boldness, unto 
 a throne of mercy, or else we shall approach with the 
 vain confidence of the Pharisee. We should come with 
 
 19 
 
214 
 
 thfe self-abasement of the Publican pleading for mercy, 
 and in order to obtain that mercy, our very argument 
 must be, " Lord ! I am Tile, pardon mine iniquity, for 
 it is great." 
 
 It is this profound sense of our unworthiness which 
 is most acceptable in the sight of God. " The sacrifice 
 of God is a broken spirit." " The high and Lofty One, 
 that inhabiteth eternity, dwells with the contrite and 
 humble spirit." Such is the spirit of all of God's decla- 
 rations. They are addressed to sinners, calling them 
 to repentance. They are addressed to the fallen, the 
 wretched, — the guilty, — the perishing; to such as feel 
 that they deserve to be outcasts from His favor. ! it 
 is to such that the invitations of Christ are extended ; 
 it is to such that the promises are given. Such alone 
 will obey the invitation ; by such alone will the promises 
 be esteemed as " exceeding great and precious." It is 
 in this temper of mind, that the soul will love to draw 
 near to God, and contemplate the wonders of His grace 
 and love, and plead His own encouragements, and tri- 
 umph in His mercy. And God wiR hold communion 
 with such a soul. Not a sigh will be unheard, nor a pe- 
 tition disregarded, nor a tear fall unheeded. Accepta- 
 ble prayer will then be made to Him, whose ear is ever 
 open to the cry of penitence, and whose arms are ever 
 extended to embrace the returning prodigal. We can- 
 not abase ourselves too low before God, when we ap- 
 proach Him in prayer. We cannot have too keen a 
 sense of oiu- guilt and unworthiaess. If prayer be the 
 language of helplessness, it is no less the language of 
 unworthiness. We shall ask amiss, just in proportion 
 as we are deficient in this profound abasement. For it 
 
215 
 
 is in that proportion that -we rob the Eedeemer of His 
 glory. Jesus and His worth must be all our plea. Our 
 souls must be washed from the stains of guilt, in the 
 blood of Christ. We must behold the Mercy Seat 
 sprinkled with the same precious blood. "We must be- 
 hold before the throne, our Advocate with the Father, 
 Jesus Christ the Righteous. Helpless, guilty, unwor- 
 thy, Christ must be our helper, our only way of access 
 to the Father. Our prayers must all ascend in the name 
 of Jesus, and then we shall pray aright, and our prayer 
 will be answered. For the Father loveth the Son, and 
 whatsoever we shall ask in His name, that will he do, 
 that the Father may be glorified in the Son. If then, 
 we would feel the preciousness, and the all sufficiency 
 of Christ as our great Intercessor with God, let us cul- 
 tivate a deep and habitual conviction of our own unwor- 
 thiness. If we would pray acceptably to God, let this 
 conviction prompt our supplications. Let us repel as a 
 spiritual pestilence, the encroachments of a self-righteous 
 spirit, and not be satisfied with /am^ impressions of our 
 utter unworthiness, lest we should ask amiss. 
 
 4. The last requisite of acceptable prayer which we 
 shall mention, is Faith. 
 
 The importance of Faith, as an element of acceptable 
 religious service, is largely insisted upon in the Bible, 
 and illustrated in a multitude of instances. It enters so 
 materially into the very substance of our religion, as to 
 give it its name ; it is called the Faith of the Gospel. 
 St. Paul triumphantly exclaims, when near the end of his 
 course, "I have kept the faith," — which is but another 
 mode of saying, " I have continued a steadfast Christian." 
 It is \)j faith, that we are justified; through /a«VA that 
 
216 
 
 we are saved. The Saviour, in performing His miracles 
 of mercy upon the sick, and the afflicted, did usually 
 draw from them first, an expression of their _/a«7A in His 
 ability to perform their requests. And vrhen the sick 
 man was healed, or a case of distress relieved, " Go thy 
 way," was the Saviour's direction, — "thy fait hheith. saved 
 thee." When the disciples failed in performing a mira- 
 cle, it was ascribed by our Lord, to their want o{ faith. 
 ■• According to jonr faith, be it unto you," is His own 
 declai'ation ; thereby assuring us, that every thing de- 
 pends upon the vigorous exercise of this fundamental 
 Christian grace. The same emphasis is laid upon faith, 
 as the condition upon which God will hear and answer 
 prayer. "All things," said the Saviour to His Apostles, 
 " whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer, believing, ye shall 
 receive." " If any of you lack wisdom," says St. James, 
 " let him ask of God, who giveth liberally, and upbraid- 
 eth not; and it shall be given him. Bat let him ask in 
 faith, nothing wavering." A word of caution, however, 
 may be necessary, against a misconstruction of these 
 passages of Scripture. We are not to suppose that 
 every wish, of whatever character, that may chance to 
 spring up in the mind, may be turned into a prayer, and 
 that then, by an endeavor to believe that God will hear 
 us, we shall have oui- requests. This would be fanati- 
 cism, and very far removed from the meaning of the 
 Sli' ioui', and His Apostles. The Word of God, and his 
 promises, are to be the guide of our desires, and of our 
 prayers to Him. We are first to enquire, and to dis- 
 cover from the Bible, what God has promised to bestow 
 in answer to prayer. What has He taught us to pray 
 for ? This must be made the subject of our petitions, 
 
217 
 
 and not any suggestions of our own, and then, by a trust- 
 ful, steadfast faith in His promise to hear and to give, 
 we are to make known our wants, with that perseve- 
 rance and importunity, which arc so much commended 
 in Scripture. The will of God must be the substance 
 of our prayer, and our faith must be suspended upon His 
 promise. Mark the language of St. John : " This is the 
 confidence that we have in Him, that if we ask any 
 thing according to His will, He heareth us." 
 
 And what has God promised to bestow in answer to 
 prayer ? He has not promised you an abundance of the 
 good things of this life. He has not promised that the 
 strait and narrow path, which He has called you to 
 tread, should not be attended with pains, and afflic- 
 tions, and tribulations. But He has promised, that all 
 those things shall work together for your good, and that 
 "though many be the afflictions of the righteous, the Lord 
 will deliver him out of them all." He has promised His 
 own Omnipotence to sustain you, under your burdens, 
 bidding you not to despair, but to look to the Lord, for 
 strength and deliverance. He has not promised that 
 you should not have dark hours, and fearful temptations, 
 and many struggles with the powers of darkness, and 
 indwelling sin ; but He has promised, that if you put 
 your trust in Him, your darkness shall be turned into 
 light, the tempter be defeated in his assaults upon the 
 soul, and yourself be ultimately " cleansed from all un- 
 righteousness." He has promised, that if you " endure 
 unto the end," every foe shall be vanquished, and Heav- 
 en's bliss more than repay the toils of the conflict. In 
 a word, He has promised /ree^y ^^ bestow every spiritual 
 blessing. The strength, the teachings, and the blessed 
 
 *19 
 
218 
 
 consolations of the Holy Spirit, the Comforter, are vouch- 
 safed to the prayers of his people here; and the full 
 joys of a complete redemption, as the theme of their 
 praise, hereafter. Such is the heritage of the believer. 
 Such are the promises of God. For these things we are 
 to pray ; but we must pray in faith, not doubting His 
 willingness to give them. 
 
 It is not without reason, that God has annexed this 
 condition to acceptable prayer. For what human bene- 
 factor will not feel himself dishonored to have his word 
 doubted, his promise distrusted ? And when God speaks, 
 should He not be believed ? His gifts are indeed of 
 incalculable worth, and not one of our sinfid race can 
 deserve them. But God has promised them to those 
 who ask them for His Son's sake, and when we ask for 
 them, we are but asking the God of truth to fulfil His 
 own pledge. We shall " ask amiss," therefore, unless 
 we ask m faith. God loves to be trusted and believed. 
 Trembling, doubting believer ! if thy faith be small, re- 
 member that the blessing will be small. Do thy sins 
 alarm thee ? Great as they are, they are not so large 
 as the promises of God. Let faith take hold of the 
 promise, and urge your suit with imdoubting confidence 
 in God, and then you will ask aright ; and God, who 
 delights to bless, will visit you with His grace. If faith 
 be weak, let the burden of your prayer be, " Lord ! I 
 believe, help Thou mine' unbelief." 
 
 Such are a few of the requisites of successful prayer. 
 A due sense of the value of the blessings which we seek 
 from God, — of our utter dependence upon God for them, 
 — of our utter unworthiness of the very least of them, — 
 and the exercise of an intelligent and unwavering faith 
 
219 
 
 in the promise of G-od to hear and answer the petitions 
 of those who ask in His Son's name, are indispensable 
 elements of prayer, at all times, and under all circum- 
 stances. There are occasions, however, which call for 
 the special exercise of these gracious emotions of the 
 soul, when a more vigorous and conquering faith is de- 
 manded, and when the prayers of God's people should 
 be more fervent and importunate. Such a season is the 
 present, which commences with the services of this day.* 
 Our own individual wants can only be justly known by 
 ourselves, and the Searcher of hearts. They can be 
 felt and realized, only by a resolute retirement now and 
 then, from the occupations of a transitory life, and by 
 fresher and stronger impulses of the Divine Spirit, in 
 the secret transactions of the closet. Let it not be 
 thought a formal, superfluous provision of the Church, 
 that calls you at this season, to unusual acts and exer- 
 cises of devotion, but embrace it, for the purpose of 
 adding to your Heavenly treasure. If you are indeed 
 seeking first, the kingdom of God, and His righteous- 
 ness, you will not need this exhortation. Your own 
 hearts will lead you gladly to the Mercy Seat to hold 
 communion with your God and Saviour, — to seek for 
 grace to support you, — ^for the consolations of the Spirit 
 to uphold you in the hour of trial, and of death. 
 
 And pray for the peace of Jerusalem. Remember the 
 desolations of Zion. If ever again we shall experience 
 the times of refreshing from the presence of the Lord, 
 it will be in answer to the supplications of His people. 
 " Thou shalt arise," says the Psalmist, " and shalt have 
 mercy upon Zion ; for the time to favor her, yea, the set 
 * Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent. 
 
!220 
 
 time, is come; for thy servants take pleasure in her 
 stones, and favor the dust thereof" While you remem- 
 ber your own spiritual interests, at a throne of Grace, 
 let your heart expand with the larger sympathies, which 
 should animate a member of the Body of Christ. Let 
 the spirit of the weeping captive pervade every prayer. 
 " If I forget thee, Jerusalem ! let my right hand forget 
 her cunning ; if I do not remember thee, let my tongue 
 cleave to the roof of my mouth, — if I prefer not Jeru- 
 salem above my chief joy." " Who can tell, if God wiU 
 turn and repent, and turn away from His fierce anger ?" 
 
Sermon 16. 
 
 FKEE GRACE. 
 
 St. Matthew x. 8 — ^'■Freely ye Jiave received, freely give." 
 
 These words form a part of our Saviour's commission 
 to His Apostles, when He first sent them forth to preach 
 the Gospel. To the ear of an instructed, established 
 Christian, capable of sympathizing with the sublime cha- 
 racteristics of the religion he professes, they will convey 
 a heart-stirring, irresistible appeal. If among the Ee- 
 deemer's followers, there be one who can listen to them 
 with indifference, unmoved by the touching view which 
 they present to us of Christian obligation, it becomes 
 him to pause and " examine himself, whether he be in 
 the faith." It becomes us all, Brethren, to study well 
 the import of our Saviour's language. For so complete- 
 ly does the text unfold to us* the unsearchable riches of 
 God's grace, that if we really imbibe its spirit and 
 meaning, every hallowed emotion of the soul will, of ne- 
 cessity, be awakened and invigorated. With a view to 
 
222 
 
 so desirable a result, let us attend more closely to the 
 Redeemer's words. 
 
 " Freely ye have received, freely give." 
 
 Here we have the announcement of an important 
 truth, coupled with the injunction of a corresponding 
 duty. It will be our object to enlarge upon each of 
 them. 
 
 And 1. The fact which is announced, — Freely ye 
 have received." 
 
 Our religion possesses many absorbing points of re- 
 flection, each and all of which, when fully appreciated, 
 are adapted to inspire solemnity and gratitude. The 
 recollection of that wrath from which he has been res- 
 cued, fills the Christian with a holy fear and trembling, 
 and he seeks with renewed anxiety, to secure his re- 
 treat beneath the overshadowing wings of a pardoning 
 iand covenant God. When, with the eye of faith, he 
 penetrates the regions of his promised Rest, and be- 
 holds there scenes of unutterable bHss, his spirit will 
 sometimes long to break away from this tabernacle of 
 earthliness and sin, and join ia the services and anthems 
 of just men made perfect ! 
 
 But, elevated and reviving as such topics of medita- 
 tion are, they do not, by any means, furnish the subject 
 of the Christian's deepest gratitude. Strange as it may 
 appear to some, the religion of a crucified Redeemer 
 supplies a source of still purer and more exalted emo- 
 tions. If the believer were impelled to habits of obe- 
 dience by no motive superior to the mere hope of final 
 salvation and eternal happiness, Ms character, when 
 tested by the measure of the Gospel standard, would 
 fall sadly short. We do not pretend to assert that 
 
223 
 
 the expectation of an ultimate triumpli over all the mis- 
 eries of the present, of a deliverance from the fears and 
 perplexities of this shifting and probationary state, into 
 the peaceful and permanent joys of a " kingdom that can. 
 not be moved," must not enter, as an element, into the 
 formation of his hopes. The Lord has graciously scat- 
 tered over the pages of His Truth, motives and encour- 
 agements, of every grade, for the purpose of winning the ' 
 rebellious, and of sustaining the sinking energies of the 
 weak in faith. And there are moments in the life of 
 perhaps every Christian, when the flagging spirits, borne 
 down by the infirmities of the flesh, or failing to main- 
 tain a uniformity in the apprehension of the higher doc- 
 trines of our faith, are compelled to take refuge in some of 
 the subordinate sources of encouragement. But the 
 soul is not doomed to be always thus crippled. Fre- 
 quently is it her privilege to soar with an almost unfet- 
 tered freedom, and to live and move and act under the 
 impulse of holier and more disinterested motives. To 
 such a motive, our attention is directed by the words 
 which we are now considering. "Freely ye have re- 
 ceived." Observe, — Our Saviour does not remind His 
 disciples of what they had received. He does not 
 speak to them of thrones and dominions. He does not 
 attempt to stimulate their exertions by pointing them 
 to a rest from their labors, a treasure laid up for them 
 in the heavens. All these may, and should, possess 
 their legitimate, though subordinate, influence, in con- 
 straining the Christian to the performance of his duty. 
 But oiu- Saviour rises above all these, and fixes our atr 
 tention upon a nobler consideration. He carries us 
 above the reward, to %\iQ principle, upon which it is be- 
 
224 
 
 stowed. Freely, freely ye have received it. Here, 
 Brethren, the soul must stop in its attempts to scan the 
 glories of redemption. It can ascend no higher. Grace, 
 the free grace of God, is the last, the loftiest theme of 
 the believer's meditation. When steadily contemplated, 
 it fills and overwhelms the soul. It requires all the 
 sanctified energies of the Christian to seize upon even 
 a small part of the stupendous subject here ; and eter- 
 nity "wiU be too short fully to disclose its wonders. 
 
 Let us dwell, for a moment, upon the importance of 
 realizing this truth. 
 
 That we are saved by grace, is a doctrine, not only 
 promiuently taught in the Sacred Scriptures, as an inde- 
 pendent truth, but may be said to run through the whole 
 texture of the Word of God. It is the Alpha and the 
 Omega of the Christian's hopes, the source of Ms earliest 
 joys, and also, of his final triumph. It is a clear percep- 
 tion of this truth, as it dawns upon the sinner's spiritual 
 darkness, that first effectually dispels his fears, and gives 
 hiTTi confidence towards God. And it is a dependence 
 upon this same truth, which enables him to smile in the 
 embrace of death, and to enter the unseen world, rejoic- 
 ing in hope. But between those two important epochs 
 in the Chi'istian's history, — ^his spiritual birth, and his 
 birth into Glory, — ^it is to be feared that he too fre- 
 quently loses sight of this great principle of his faith. 
 Not that he ever erases it from his creed, or would 
 shrink from becoming its zealous advocate, if assailed 
 by the craft of heresy, or by the violence of open unbe- 
 lief; but that he fails in retaining and cherishing such a 
 vivid impression of the free grace and mercy of God iu 
 his redemption and salvation, as to make it the distinct 
 
225 
 
 source of habitual gratitude, and a primary motive of 
 his conduct. Take a faithful review of your own expe- 
 rience, Brethren, and see whether the apprehension we 
 have expressed, be entirely unfounded in your own case. 
 Is it not true that many a time since you first tasted 
 that the Lord was gracious, and threw yourselves upon 
 Hia mercy in Christ, the joys of redemption have been 
 known, chiefly as the dimly-remembered vision of a past 
 experience ? "Why is it that the soul, instead of vigor- 
 ously liriving in the green pastures, and beside the still 
 waters, pines and languishes, and so often heaves the 
 sigh of a longing regret, " that I were as in months 
 past !" Many minor causes might undoubtedly be as- 
 signed for this, — many that your own fidelity will readily 
 detect : but one main cause we take to be this, — that 
 you have abandoned jovtr first source of comfort,— that 
 you have resorted to comparatively broken cisterns, 
 that can hold no water. We wish to be distinctly un- 
 derstood. Brethren, and would therefore carry you back 
 once more to the days of your first love. What wag it 
 that first excited your love ? What first awakened the 
 accents of gratitude and affection, and emboldened you 
 to cry, in the spirit of adoption, " Lord ! truly thou 
 art our Father." It was not any captivating pictures of 
 the pageantry of heaven, its. rivers of pleasure, — ^its 
 golden thrones, — the happiness of its innumerable hosts 
 of worshippers. All these have their proper place, as 
 streams of consolation, but they are not the fountain. 
 No ! what you sought for then, was some warrant to lay 
 claim to all these, and to call them your own. The mere 
 contemplation of them could not give you .the needed 
 assurance : it might excite a wish, but could supply no 
 
 20 
 
226 
 
 ground of expectation, or of hope, that you should ever 
 possess them. And it was not iintil your burdened and 
 trembling soul caught the accents of redeeming Grace, — 
 until you could look upon your oflFended G-od as a par- 
 doning God, saving jou freely for Christ's sake, that 
 you felt the first impulse of gratitude and praise to God, 
 and knew the true meaning of spiritual joy. Now it is 
 from this exhaustless fountain, this well-spring of salva- 
 tion, that you are ever to draw the waters of comfort. 
 It was not opened to furnish a momentary and a fitful 
 supply. It was never intended that we should take but 
 one single draught at the setting out upon our pilgrim- 
 age, and then abandon Its copious and healthful iuflu- 
 ences, for the scanty and doubtful sustenance of inferior 
 joys. To do so, is plainly to separate the cause from 
 the effect. The inevitable consequence will be leannesSj 
 sickly doubts and fears ; or else, a criminal indifference, 
 and a false security. Here, Brethren, is the secret of 
 the misgivings in many a halting believer. 
 
 In thus reverting to the early operations of the new- 
 born soul, and inculcating a regard for a fundamental 
 principle, let it not be thought that we are laying the 
 foundation for a dwarfish religion ; and that by lingering 
 upon one of the first principles of the doctrine of Christ, 
 the Christian is placing a bar to his growth in grace, 
 and in the knowledge of his Lord and Saviour. No 
 greater error can be entertained, than to suppose that 
 the first, simple, humble, child-like exercises of the babe 
 in Christ, are to be exclusively appropriated to that 
 period of the spiritual life ; — that, in advancing to our 
 manhood, we are to abandon these for some imaginary 
 traits of character, more suited to the vigor of an estab- 
 
227 
 
 lished Christian. As in the natural, so in the spiritual 
 life, our maturity must consist in the perfect develop- 
 ment and complete consolidation of the first elements 
 of our being. 
 
 It is an equal error, to suppose that the truths which 
 commend themselves to the unsophisticated feelings of 
 the young Christian, are to be exchanged, so far as their 
 paramount influence goes, for others of a more mingled 
 and questionable character. For, those early truths, 
 and those early feelings, as before intimated, are as 
 closely connected, as cause and effect ; and if we would 
 preserve the integrity of the latter, we must retain a 
 distinct apprehension of the former. And what better 
 evidence can we have that there is something in our 
 early experience, peculiarly suited to protect and de- 
 velop the energies of the new man, than the fact, that 
 with the regularity and directness of instinct, the soul, 
 under a consciousness of decayed strength, turns in pen- 
 sive recollection to the'*days of its first love ! Brethren, 
 the true cause of spiritual dearth in the Christian, is, 
 that he suffers the first lively sensibilities of the soul to 
 degenerate into mere impressions, — to dwindle away 
 into faint, flickering aspirations, instead of cultivating 
 them, under the Spibit's blessing, and moulding them 
 into the manliness of a matured character. These re- 
 marks are peculiarly applicable to the point we are now 
 discussing. Whatever intensity of emotion may be 
 awakened when the free grace of God is revealed to 
 the humbled sinner, much is unquestionably to be attri- 
 buted to animal excitement, and the novelty of the sub- 
 ject. If we abate these, it will be found, that the spirit- 
 ual views of the believer, as to the real, essential glories 
 
228 
 
 of this mystery of loYe, in its application to Hs case, are 
 but very meagre and partial. He has much yet to learn 
 of his own character, of the depravity of his own heart, 
 and much, in consequence, of the infinite compassion and 
 condescension of God. Salvation by grace ! Oh, it is 
 a subject which enlarges in moral magnificence, the more 
 we study it ! It is impossible to advance in holiness, 
 to obtain brighter views of the character of God and 
 juster views of our own unworthiness, without a propor- 
 tionate amazement that HE, the Just and Holy One, 
 should stoop so low, to save the sinner. Think for a 
 moment, that not only have we nothing to recommend 
 us to God, but that when we were living in a state of 
 actual rebellion against Him, He so loved us as to give 
 B!is own Son, to suffer and die for us : and all, so pkee, 
 that whosoever will, may come and share the blessings 
 offered. All that He asks of us is, that we will Ioik 
 Him, — surrender our affections to Him, and seek His 
 glory evermore. 
 
 2. But again : — ^the apprehension of this principle, on 
 the part of the Christian, serves also to preserve and 
 strengthen all the graces of the Spirit ; of which we 
 wish to notice one or two of the more obvious ones. 
 
 The first is humility. It may be questioned whether 
 the soul of the penitent is ever truly humbled, before it 
 has been led to cast itself upon the pardoning mercy of 
 God for salvation. There is much, it is true, in the pre- 
 vious exercises and struggles of the inquiring sinner, 
 which bears the semblance of humility. There is much 
 of a perception and an acknowledgment of the evil and 
 demerit of sin, and the justice and holiness of an offended 
 God. There is much, too, of self-condemnation. But 
 
229 
 
 amid all this, the old leaven of a proud, unhumbled 
 spirit is at work. Other grounds of hope,— other 
 refuges are resorted to, rather than that only Name 
 given under heaven, whereby he can be saved. And 
 that shows a spirit far removed from true Christian hu- 
 mility. The grand eflficient power which can produce 
 this grace, has not yet been applied. The only influ- 
 ence to which the mind of the convicted transgressor 
 has thus far been subjected, is the denunciations and 
 the rigid demands of an unbending law. And there is 
 nothing in its language which is calculated to produce 
 humility. All that the law can do for the sinner is to 
 lead him from step to step, tUl it lands him in the black- 
 ness of despair ; but despair is not humility. Other- 
 wise, there would be a pulse of sympathy between the 
 devils and the redeemed. No ! it is not amid the thun- 
 ders and flames of Sinai, that the sinner bends in lowli- 
 ness and brokenness of spirit before his God. He flees 
 as tho' the avenger of blood were behind him, till his 
 footsteps are arrested by the milder glories of Mount 
 Zion, and the still small voice of mercy. And as he 
 turns to Calvary, and looks upon a suffering, dying Sa-' 
 viour : as he hears amid expiring, convulsive agonies, 
 the whisper of peace from those quivering lips, then it 
 is that his heart of stone is melted. And as he pros- 
 trates himself at the feet of his bleeding Redeemer, 
 then is his soul humbled, viewing, as he does, in, the 
 same moment, the magnitude of his own guilt, and the 
 riches of pardoning mercy. It is well that the sinner 
 should feel, and deeply feel, his exposure to the wrath 
 of God : but the grace of God, — a free, entire forgive- 
 ness, procured by the blood of an innocent Sufferer, — 
 
 20* 
 
230 
 
 this, this it is, that subdues, humbles, disarms the proud 
 spirit : and whilst it infuses the life-blood of hope into 
 the soul, draws him with the cords of lore, a weeping, 
 submissive penitent, at the footstool of his Lord. It is 
 often thought that when the convicted sinner catches a 
 glimpse of his Saviour, and begins to entertain a hope 
 of pardon, his penitence gives way to the fulness of his 
 joy. It may be so for a moment ; but if he be rightly 
 aifected, it will be but for a moment. Surely, in the 
 Cross of Christ^ there is cause for a deeper penitence, 
 — a profounder sorrow for sin, than could ever be 
 awakened by all his previous fears. It is at the Cross 
 alone, that he beholds the full extent and enormity of 
 his sins : and were it not for the accents of mercy which 
 mingle with the groans of an atoning Saviour, the sight 
 would do infinitely more to overwhelm the transgressor, 
 than all the fierce and wrathful exhibitions of Sinai. 
 Christian ! if you would wish to cherish a true spirit of 
 humility, — a hearty sorrow for sin, think how freely^ you. 
 have been forgiven; think of Him who bore yoxu* sins 
 in His own body on the tree, that he might rescue you, 
 8, brand fcom the eternal burnings. 
 
 3. Another advantage in cultivating a distinct impres- 
 sion of God's free grace is, that it furnishes a channel of 
 direct intercourse between the soul and God. 
 
 It has already been intimated that the consideration 
 of God's free grace, in the pardon and salvation of the 
 sinner, is by far the noblest and most disinterested mo- 
 tive by which we can be animated. It is a motive suited 
 to the highest spirituality of feeling, as weU as intellec- 
 tual energy. And the reason is obvious. God Him- 
 self is clearly the most interesting and glorious object, 
 
231 
 
 upon -which the mind can meditate. Never is the sonl 
 bathed, as it were, in such an atmosphere of sanctity, as 
 when led by a train of abstracted and unembarrassed 
 thought, to lose itself in the contemplation of His all- 
 absorbing glories. But this glorious God is a being, 
 whom we can contemplate, only through the medium of 
 His attributes, and the principles with which He deals 
 with us. It is impossible to think of these principles, 
 in all their solemn connections, — to cherish a distinct, 
 personal association with the plans and purposes, the 
 very thoughts as it were, of Jehovah, without a lively 
 sense of the being and presence of Him, who is invisi- 
 ble. These plans and purposes are but the analysis of 
 His character : they are the separate, individual features 
 of His character, which collectively make up to our 
 minds, all that we can conceive of G-od. To apply this 
 to the subject before us, — How is it possible to realize 
 so exalted a conception as the free, unmerited forgive- 
 ness of sin, procured for us at such an infinite expense, 
 — without instinctively connecting so noble a principle 
 of conduct, with some exalted intelligence ? For such 
 a thought as the one just mentioned, awakens all the 
 deepest emotions and sympathies of our nature ; and 
 we can have no sympathies with naked principles. No ! 
 a present God will be felt, and we shall be elevated at 
 once into a constant communion with the Father of mer- 
 cies and the God of all grace. It is not so with every 
 topic of reflection suggested by our religion. True, we 
 should think of nothing that enters into the hope of a 
 Christian, without associating God with it, and enjoying 
 Him in it, as the supreme object of our affections. But 
 there are many things which, engage the believer's 
 
232 
 
 thoughts, in which it is not so easy and natural to do 
 this. And it was for the purpose of illustrating this, 
 that we have presented the foregoing reflection. 
 
 Are there not some, whose views of a future state 
 amount to but little more than a Mohammedan paradise ? 
 Who lose themselves in fond reveries and dreams about 
 the felicities of another world, — -whose imaginary heaven 
 is but little else than an endless duration of undisturbed 
 enjoyment, — ^no pain, no sickness, no fears, no death- 
 All these will iudeed be included in our promised in- 
 heritance. But it wiU be observed, they are either of 
 an indefinite, or negative character. They are not all 
 of heaven; neither are they of its essence. It is as 
 moral, intelligent, and spiritual beiugs, that we are all 
 to live hereafter, and as such, we are to reap a happiness 
 in kind. It is with angels and glorified spirits, that we 
 are to mingle our sympathies ; — with a Redeemer, who 
 has purchased us by His blood : — with a God of glory, 
 in whose image we were originally created, and upon 
 whose glory we shall be permitted to gaze, till changed 
 into the same image, from glory to glory. You may 
 meditate upon heaven, upon the vague thought of end- 
 less happiness, of freedom from every trial, until your 
 soul is moved to an extasy of feeling, and yet God may 
 not be in all your thoughts. The stream of your reflec- 
 tions, instead of passing on, until it is lost in the ocean 
 of fathomless love, returns with its shallow and turbu- 
 lent current into your own bosom. Self may be, after 
 all, the idol which you worship. Christian ! think 
 how imworthy you are of the great things that God hath 
 provided. Think of Him who bestows them so freely. 
 Think of the Redeemer, who left that world of glory to 
 
233 
 
 make you a joint heir with Him of a bright inheritance. 
 Anticipate the day, when you will think so much oifree 
 grace, and so little, in comparison, of your crown, — ^that 
 crown, which you will cast at the feet of your munificent 
 God and Redeemer. 
 
 Let us pass on, in conclusion, to a brief consideration 
 of the duty which is enjoined, — '' Freely^ give" 
 
 Active exertion in the cause of Oheist, a life of real 
 usefulness, is, at once, the Christian's duty and his privi- 
 lege. In this, as in all the commands of God, there is a 
 blessing connected with obedience, which will return, a 
 thousand fold, into the Christian's bosom. Too often, 
 however, is it considered, even by the Christian, less as 
 a privilege, and more as a duty ; and instead of sympa- 
 thizing with the devoted Paul, when he spoke of the 
 constraining love of Cheist, the disciple is dragged as 
 it were, into the service of his Eedeemer, by a slavish 
 sense of obligation, when he should be rejoicing in an 
 opportunity of showing forth the praises of his God. 
 The injunction of the text, together with the motive con- 
 tained in it, aims directly at the defective, unfilial 
 spirit now referred to. " Freely give," — as freely as 
 ye have received. We are regenerated into the image 
 of God ; the same spirit of benevolence which actuates 
 Him, should actuate all His children. God sets Himself 
 forth as our pattern, and we are permitted to emulate 
 the conduct of Him who is the personification of all ex- 
 cellence. But how little is such a privilege valued ! 
 Who would gather from the daily life of many of Christ's 
 followers, the nature and the magnitude of that •work 
 which has been given them to do ? How seldom does 
 the Christian himself duly realize it ! And one reason is, 
 
234 
 
 that we reflect so little upon the chief motive that should 
 stimulate us — " Freely ye have received." The power 
 of this motive, when suffered to exert its full influence 
 upon the soul, transcends every other. I might tell you 
 of the magnificence of the enterprise, — a world to be 
 saved ! and you appointed as instruments of its accom- 
 plishment. I might tell you of your responsibilities, — 
 of your having been constituted, in some sense, the keep- 
 ers of immortal spirits around you, upon whom your in- 
 fluence is to tell for good or for evil, throughout the ages 
 of eternity. I might appeal to your natural and to your 
 Christian sympathies, and point you to a parent, a bro- 
 ther, a sister, a relative or friend, and speak to you of 
 the worm that never dies, and I might then lay before 
 you, your own bright and imperishable hopes of glory 
 and ask, if here were not enough to arouse you to un- 
 wearied effort to snatch them from perdition, and carry 
 them with you in your train to heaven. But I can tell 
 you of a nobler inducement still. There is One who 
 loves them infinitely more than you can. There is One 
 who has travailed in soul for them and for you, — ^has 
 poured the rich treasures of His grace into your own 
 heart, that you may be His stewards in conveying it to 
 others. He asks you for His sake, to be a co-worker 
 with Him, that He may see of the travail of His soul, 
 and be satisfied. can it be that you expect, as it 
 were to-morrow, to tread the courts of heaven, and 
 attune your harp for eternity, to the strains of redeem- 
 ing, pardoning grace, and is the note of gratitude so fee- 
 ble here ? Are you willing to pass on thus with your 
 inheritance in view, and suffer the priceless, undying 
 souls about you, to drop into the abyss of woe, for the 
 
235 
 
 want of fidelity on your part, to them, and to your Re- 
 deemer ? Will you be so niggard of those streams of 
 salvation, which flow by you so freely, from the very 
 heart of God ? if we be Christ's, let us seek to 
 show more of the mind of Christ. If we expect to 
 reign with Him, let us be diligent in gathering the 
 jewels for our crown, that, at His appearing, we may 
 shine as the brightness of the firmament, and as the 
 stars forever and ever 1 
 
Qtxmon 17. 
 
 CHRIST AND HIS CROSS. 
 
 (passion week.) 
 
 St. Luke, IX. 30, 31. "And behold, there talked with Him two 
 men, which were Moses and Elias ; who appeared in glory, and spdke 
 of His DECEASE which He shovtld accomplish at Jerusalem." 
 
 These words are a record in part, of one of the most 
 remarkable transactions during our Lord's ministry. 
 On a certain occasion, He took Peter and John and 
 James, and went up into a mountain to pray. — And as 
 He prayed, the fashion of His countenance was altered, 
 and His raiment was white and glistering. And behold, 
 there talked with Him two men, which were Moses and 
 Elias, who appeared in glory, and spake of His decease 
 which He should accomplish at Jerusalem. This event 
 is called our Lord's Transfiguration, when, for a brief 
 period. He laid aside the form of a servant, and for the 
 edification of His disciples, and the strengthening of 
 their faith, He temporarily assumed that glory with 
 which He was to be permanently crowned, when He 
 .should sit down upon His mediatorial throne. Our 
 
237 
 
 present design, however, is not to dwell upon this main 
 feature of the transaction, but to confine your attention 
 to one of its most important and significant incidents. 
 Two men, Moses and Elias, appeared in glory and talked 
 with Him ; and the theme of their conversation was the 
 decease of Jesus which He should accomplish at Jeru- 
 salem. 
 
 The first point which claims our consideration is the 
 persons, and the character of those who came from 
 Paradise to commune with the Son of God, during this 
 brief manifestation of His divinity. They were men, 
 and not angels. There was a peculiar propriety and 
 significance in this. It was for us men and for our sal- 
 vation, that Christ came down from Heaven, suffered, 
 died and was glorified. The whole of the stupendous 
 work of Redemption had reference to the recovery of 
 man from the degradation of sin, and his exaltation to 
 the glories of Heaven, and an eternal communion with 
 His reconciled God and Father. As it was not the 
 angelic nature which Christ assumed, nor the angelic 
 nature which suifered, so it is not the angelic, but the 
 human nature, which, in the person of the •Redeemer, is 
 crowned with a far more than angelic glory and honor. 
 It was fitting then that glorified men, and not angels, 
 should be the companions of their Lord, in those few 
 moments of His anticipated triumph over the grave, and 
 over the powers of darkness. It was fitting, too, that 
 His humble disciples, who were yet to be the compan- 
 ions of His sufferings, should be eye-witnesses of His 
 glory. To Moses and Elias, it was the transient reali- 
 zation of that which they, in common with Prophets and 
 Kings, had waited for, but died without the sight. To 
 
 21 
 
238 
 
 them, it was the earnest and foretaste of that "eternal 
 weight of glory," which they were soon to share with 
 their exalted Eedeemer. And whilst their feelings must 
 have been those of holy exultation, and of symjiathy 
 with Christ in His approaching triumph, the scene, was 
 not without its lasting benefits to the three disciples 
 who went up with Him into the moimt. Though terri- 
 fied at the time, aud probably ignorant of the fuU mean- 
 ing of M"hat they saw and heard, yet they afterwards 
 remembered it, and it served not only to strengthen 
 their faith, but to give weight to their testimony, when, 
 after their Lord's Ascension, they went forth, preaching 
 Jesus and the resurrection. And undoubtedly the Trans- 
 figuration took place before them, that by the mouth of 
 those three witnesses, every word of the Divine mes- 
 sage might be established. The beloved disciple refers 
 to this pri^'ileged season, when in declaring the Divinity 
 of Christ, he fortifies the declaration by an allusion to 
 what he and his companions had personally seen. " And 
 the Word" he says '• was made flesh, and dwelt among 
 us," and "we," he adds in a parenthesis, " beheld His 
 glory, the gl^ry as of the only Begotten of the Father." 
 And St. Peter seeks to strengthen his testimony by a 
 still more unequivocal allusion. " For we have not," he 
 says, •'•' followed cunningly devised fables, when we 
 made known unto you the power and coming of our Lord 
 Jesus Christ, but were eye-witnesses of His majesty. 
 For He received from God the Father, honor and glory, 
 when there came such a voice to Him from the excellent 
 glory, — ' This is My beloved Son, in whom I am well 
 pleased.' And this voice from Heaven ice heard, when 
 toe were with Him in the holy mount." 
 
239 
 
 The fact then, which we are now noticing, is plainlj- 
 not one of an indifferent nature, but full of meaning, and 
 of comforting instruction to us. How strictly in accord- 
 ance with the Civine plan of mercy to sinners, that Je- 
 sus, in one of the few seasons when He rejoiced in spirit, 
 should choose to gather about Him a little band of His 
 ransomed flock, instead of being attended by a ret- 
 inue of angels, and listening to their hymns of praise ! 
 It shows that He, who condescends to call Himself our 
 Elder Brother, will never, even in His highest glory, lay 
 aside this gracious distinction. He has vindicated His 
 claim to this title, by the assumption of our nature, by 
 the tears of Gethsemane, by the shame and agonies of 
 the Cross ; and now that He has risen far above all 
 principalities, and powers, and every name that is 
 named, whether in Heaven or earth. He esteems it still 
 His chief glory, to be the believer's Advocate and 
 Friend. Not even the loud hosannahs of Heaven can 
 separate us from the undying affections of Jesus. He 
 remembers us, even there, where every tongue is elo- 
 quent in His praise. He stoops from the throne of His 
 glory, to hear our praj'ers, and to wipe away our tears, 
 to shield us against temptation, and to give us gracious 
 consolations in the hour of sorrow. He ever liveth to 
 intercede for us. And when the great work of His re- 
 demption shall be finished, and His saints shall be 
 gathered into the Church triumphant, we shall be nearer 
 and dearer to the heart of Jesus than the angels, who 
 never fell. As God over all. Blessed forever. He will 
 listen with satisfaction to ascriptions of praise from 
 every creature. But most welcome, will be the new 
 song that will be sung by the ten thousand times ten 
 
240 
 
 thousand of the redeemed, — " "Worthy is the Lamb that 
 ■was slain, to receive power and riches and wisdom and 
 strength and honor and glory and blessing, for Thou 
 wast slain, and hast redeemed us unto God, by Thy 
 blood, out of every kindred and tongue and people and 
 nation." " The Lamb which is in the midst of the 
 throne shall feed us, and lead us unto living fountains 
 of waters." 
 
 Again ; it was not only proper that men rather than 
 angels, should attend upon our Lord as the witnesses 
 of His glory, — h\A there was a peculiar propriety in 
 the selection of Moses and Elias. Moses, as the Law- 
 giver of the Jews, stood at the head of that dispensa- 
 tion to which the Jews were blindly attached, and 
 which was now upon the eve of passing away. BQs au- 
 thority was unlimited with that abandoned nation. 
 However much they misunderstood his instructions, and 
 the transient nature of the economy he instituted, they 
 were fond of appealing to him, and of calling themselves 
 " Moses' disciples ;" and more than once, they refused 
 obedience to Christ as their Messiah, on the score of a 
 preference for their ancient leader. It was right that 
 Moses should be regarded by the Jews with a high de- 
 gree of reverence and affection. His name was insepar- 
 ably connected with all the details of that imposing ser- 
 vice, by which they and their fathers had been taught to 
 worship Jehovah, and an adherence to which had secured 
 for them unnumbered national blessings and distinc- 
 tions. Every sacrifice that was offered, and every act of 
 worship, whilst it pointed to a greater than Moses, 
 must necessarily have reminded them of this eminent 
 servant of God. They had been taught, too, by their 
 
241 
 
 own Scriptures to revere hiin as the ^'reatest of all 
 those guides and teachers, whom God had ever sent to 
 instruct them in their duty, and to deliver them from 
 their -enemies. But there was One, and one only, to 
 whom even Moses must yield the pre-eminence. That 
 system of laws and ordinances, of which he, by Divine 
 direction, had been the founder, was intended as a 
 schoolmaster, to lead both him and his people to Christ. 
 In Cheist, as the great and only effectual sacrifice for 
 sin, was fuMlled all that was signified by the blood of 
 bulls and of goats. As our great High Priest and In- 
 tercessor with God, He was about to abolish the gor- 
 geous ceremonial of the Levitical Priesthood. In a 
 word, all those tj^pes and shadows, with which the name 
 and authority of Moses was identified, was about to be 
 absorbed by the glorious substance and reality of all, 
 Cheist, the Lawgiver and Head of the Church, — our 
 only Priest and Sacrifice, — the true Mercy-Seat for sin- 
 ners, the only way of access unto the Father. There 
 was, therefore, a profound significance in the attendance 
 of Moses, during our Lord's display of His regal power 
 and Godhead. He was there, in the presence of 
 Christ's humble followers, to lay all his honors at the 
 feet of their common Master ;. to teach them, and 
 through them, the Jewish nation that Christ was their 
 Judge, their Lawgiver, their King and Saviour ; to 
 teach them that there is no other name given under 
 Heaven among men, whereby we must be saved, but the 
 name of Jesus. 
 
 There was a corresponding significance in the atten- 
 dance of Elijah, or, as he is here called, Elias. He was 
 the most illustrious of all the Prophets, — distinguished 
 
 21* 
 
242 
 
 by a peculiar mark of Divine favor in being carried to 
 Heaven in a chariot of fire. As the representative of 
 that long line of Prophets who had foretold the Re- 
 deemer's advent and glory, he was fitly associated with 
 Moses, — that thus they might bear their joint testimony 
 to the Divine mission of Jesus — that He was the one of 
 whom Moses and the Prophets did write, Jesus of Naz- 
 reth, the son of Joseph. He was there too, with Moses, 
 to signify, that in Christ were united all the ancient 
 offices of Prophet, Priest, and King. — And as the Law- 
 giver pointed to Christ, as the Lamb of God which 
 taketh away the sins of the world, so the Prophet indi- 
 cates Him as our great Instructor in Divine truth, — who 
 alone hath the words of Eternal Life. And all this re- 
 ceived the solemn sanction of a voice from Heaven ; 
 — ^for out of the midst of that bright cloud which en- 
 folded Christ, and this little company of His disciples, 
 God the Father gave forth His own testimony to the 
 truth of all, " This is My Beloved Son, hear ye Him." 
 This is My Beloved Son, my co-equal and My fellow, 
 who alone hath authority and power to reveal the coun- 
 sels of Heaven to a revolted world. This is My Be- 
 loved Son, whose obedience and death for sinners, is 
 suf&cient to ransom from eternal death, every believing 
 soul. Hear ye Him, — for in Him are hid all the trea- 
 sures of wisdom aud of knowledge. In Him all fullness 
 dwells. 
 
 This admonition, with the circumstances under which 
 it was uttered, was designed for the instruction of the 
 Church through all time. what a resplendent crown 
 of glory does it place upon the brow of our Redeemer ! 
 Patriarchs, Prophets, and Kings, were but the heralds of 
 
243 
 
 Jesus, the King of Kings, and Lord of Lords. The 
 costly furniture of the Temple, the rivers of blood, which, 
 for centuries, had flowed at its altar, and all the bright 
 ■^•isions of Prophecy, were but the dim foreshadowings 
 of His excellency, whose glory fills the Heavens, and is 
 yet to fill both Heaven and earth. Remember it, my 
 Hearer, as you open the Word of God. Seek for the 
 guidance of the Spirit, that you may discern Christ 
 upon every page of the Sacred Volume, from its begin- 
 ning to its close. And above all, exalt Him in your 
 heart, as deserving your best homage and love. Let the 
 righteous sentence of a broken law, lead you to cleave 
 the more closely to Christ. Hear Him, and obey His 
 instructions, for to whom else can you go, if you turn 
 away from Him, by whom alone Life and immortality 
 have been brought to light ? 
 
 2. The second point which we are to consider, is the 
 theme of conversation between Christ and His glorified 
 saints ; " they spake of His decease which He was to 
 accomplish at Jerusalem." 
 
 No single circumstance could give a more striking 
 prominence to the death of Jesus Christ, as the central 
 truth of our religion, than the one which is here, with so 
 much brevity, brought to our notice. The glory with 
 which Christ and His servants were invested, seemed 
 for the time, to be forgotten in the interest of the sub- 
 ject which now engrossed their attention; and well 
 might this be so; for that glory was the fruit of 
 the sufi'erings of the Son of God. Jesus Himself as- 
 sumed the Mediatorial crown and throne, as the reward 
 of His obedience unto death, upon Calvary ; and it is by 
 virtue of the same atoning Sacrifice, that the Captain of 
 
244 
 
 our salvation will bring many sons unto glory. We are 
 thus most effectually taught the importance of the doc- 
 trine of the Atonement. Every other doctrine of Scrip- 
 ture receives its significance from this. Even the Incar- 
 nation of our Lord, though proclaimed by Angels, and 
 accompanied by the songs of Heaven, was but a prelim- 
 inary step to the consummation of the great work of 
 Eedemption. It could, of itself, have effected nothing 
 for the salvation of man, had not our Incarnate Re- 
 deemer poiu"ed out his blood as a sacrifice for sin. The 
 manger of our Lord, and the Throne of His glory, are 
 alike indebted for their meaning to the profounder glo- 
 ries of the Cross. It needs but a slight inspection of 
 Scriptm-e to verify this assertion. If we turn to the 
 dispensation of Moses, we find that the iirst covenant 
 was not dedicated without blood. It was the blood of 
 the Paschal sacrifice, that opened the door of deliver- 
 ance from Egypt. It was the feast of this gracious 
 Passover, which was instituted as a perpetual memorial 
 of Israel's God, throughout all their generations. In the 
 services of the Tabernacle and the Temple, each morn- 
 ing and evening witnessed the blood of the sacrificed 
 victims. " Almost aU things were by the Law purged 
 with blood." The typical High Priest, and the Mercy- 
 Seat which he approached to seek the favor of Jehovah, 
 were both profusely sprinkled with atoning blood. How- 
 ever adorned with its silver, and its gold, neither the 
 Tabernacle, nor the Temple, would have served as fit 
 emblems of the glory of the God we worship, had they 
 not been sanctified by the blood of unceasing sacrifice. 
 And if we turn to the New Testament, we shall find a 
 like prominence given to this all-important doctrine. In 
 
245 
 
 the very commencement of our Saviour's ministry, John 
 Baptist " spake of the decease, which He should accom- 
 plish at Jerusalem," when he pointed Him out to his 
 disciples as the Lamb of God, which taketh away the 
 sin of the world. Jesus Himself, in the instructions 
 which He gave His followers as to the nature of His 
 salvation and kingdom, embraced every opportunity to 
 speak to them of His approaching sufferings. And as 
 the hour drew near. Oh ! with what a pathos, with what 
 intensity of emotion, did He commune with His disci- 
 ples ! With what meltings of soul, did He tread His 
 lonely way to the sorrows of Calvary ! I need not de- 
 pict to you the scene of our Saviour's sufferings upon 
 the Cross. The strong crying and tears of Gethsemane, 
 the Angelic succor which was afforded Him, — ^the open- 
 ing tombs, — the trembling earth, and the darkened 
 Heavens, were sufficient evidence that the death of 
 Christ was the crisis of a world's redemption. It was 
 the glory of the Cross, which inspired the soul of St. 
 Paul. Christ, and Him crucified, was the unvarying 
 theme of his discourse. It was the love of Him who 
 had died for him, that constrained him to endure poverty, 
 reproach, and death. 
 
 With reverence would we pass from earth to the 
 equally significant transactions of Heaven. What is it 
 that gives energy to the praises of the Church trium- 
 phant ? What is the burden of her everlasting song ? 
 Is it the glory which encircles her ? Oh no ! Even 
 there she remembers the travail of her Redeemer's soul, 
 and with one united voice, as the sound of many waters, 
 ascribes all " power and honor and glory and blessing 
 ixuto the Lamb that was slain, and that redeemed het to 
 
246 
 
 God by His blood." The atonement of Jesus Christ for 
 sinners, hj the sacrifice of His life upon the Cross, is 
 the theme of the Angels' song, and of the saints m glory. 
 It was sufficient to bring two of them from Paradise to 
 converse with our Saviour, upon His decease that was 
 drawing near ; and its absorbing power was such, that 
 even the glory which shrouded them, was for the time, 
 a disregarded thiug, and they dwelt with holy interest, 
 upon the approaching scenes of Calvary. Moses and 
 the Prophets, Christ Himself, and His Apostles, unite 
 in holding up the Cross to the view of a guilty world. 
 All of them point to the broken Body, and the shed 
 Blood of the Redeemer, as the greatest, the most won- 
 derful, of Heaven's mercies to our fallen race. And can 
 any one, then, believe that the death of Jesus was merely 
 the death of a holy man, of a martyr suffering for his 
 creed ? that His meekness. His patience. His unquench- 
 able love, was merely an example of suffering affliction ? 
 As an example simply, it demands our admiring imita- 
 tion ; but Oh, we must see something far more than this 
 in the death of Christ, if we would praise Him as we 
 ought on earth, or joiu the anthems of Heaven. What 
 means that superhuman sorrow in the Garden, which 
 bowed in agony, and dotted with blood, the body of our 
 Lord? Jesus was innocent, — His soul was spotless 
 and free from sin, — a guilty Conscience could have had 
 nothing to do with those moments of anguish. Whence 
 then, that mysterious shrinking, — that heart-rending 
 prayer, that if it were possible, the cup might pass from 
 Him ? It was the burden of our guilt, my friends, that 
 pressed upon the soul of Christ. It was for our iniqui- 
 ties, that He thus submitted to be bruised and smitten 
 
247 
 
 of God. It -was in those hours of darkness, amidst suf- 
 fering and tears, that Jesus was making it possible, by 
 His atoning blood, for the sinner to be justified and 
 saved. By submitting to the death of the Cross, he was 
 entering the gloomy realms of the grave, that he might 
 assume the dominion over it, and lead captive the pow- 
 ers of darkness. It was the hour of hell's disappointed 
 malignity. It was the triumph of Almighty love and 
 mercy to sinners. 
 
 Well then might the death of Christ be a subject of 
 interest in Heaven. Would that it might excite a cor- 
 responding interest in each one of our bosoms ! Behold, 
 my hearers, your Saviour ! Behold the only way of 
 access for yourself, unto the Father, — the only way of 
 salvation, the only door of entrance to the purity and 
 happiness of Heaven ! Has the fear of God never yet 
 fallen upon your spirit ? Has the thought of the Judg- 
 ment, and of eternal retribution, never troubled you? 
 Has conscience never warned you of the wrath to come ? 
 Awake, then, thou that sleepest, and arise from the 
 dead, and Christ, thy crucified Redeemer, shall give 
 thee light. Be aroused by the afflictions and death of 
 Jesus, to see in how awful a manner, the wrath of God 
 has been revealed from Heaven against all unrighteous- 
 ness. 
 
 Have you ever been humbled under a sense of guilt ? 
 Have you ever felt the arrows of the Almighty within 
 you, and his terrors setting themselves in array against 
 you ? Behold your Saviour ! His blood is precious in 
 the sight of God, as an atonement for your transgres- 
 sions. Come unto Christ, and cast your burden upon 
 y«ur Lord, and though your sins be as scarlet, they shall 
 
248 
 
 be white as snow ; though they be red like crimson, they 
 shall be as wool." 
 
 Once more ; the death of Jesus was a voluntary sacri- 
 fice ; one to which, however painful. He willingly submit- 
 ted, as the voluntary substitute for sinners. This 
 thought also is clearly contained in the language of the 
 text. Moses and Elias spake with Jesus of His decease, 
 which he was to accomplish at Jerusalem. The work of 
 redemption was one, which the Son of God, as the second 
 person of the eternal Trinity, undertook and accom- 
 plished in the might of His own Omnipotence, — ^in the 
 fullness of a Divine sufficiency. It was an act of agree- 
 ment, and of love, in the counsels of Heaven, for the 
 soul's salvation. "Lo, I come; in the volume of the 
 Book it is written of me, I delight to do thy will, my 
 God 1" It was on this ground, that the sacrifice of the 
 Cross was an acceptable offering in the view of Heaven. 
 " Therefore," says the Saviour, " doth my Father love 
 me, because I lay down my life, that I might take it 
 again. No man taketh it from me, but I lay it down of 
 myself. I have power to lay it down, and I have power 
 to take it again." " Thinkest thou," he says to the im- 
 petuous Peter, " that I cannot now pray to my Father, 
 and He shall presently give me twelve legions of Angels ? 
 The cup which my Father hath given me, shall I not 
 drink it?" Oh! here is love, deathless love, shining 
 forth from every feature of this glorious transaction. 
 Behold once more, your Saviour! What was it, that 
 sustained Him under the bereavements of a life of 
 penury and toil ? It was love for you. " Though He 
 was rich, yet for your sake He became poor, that you, 
 through his poverty, might become rich." Why was it, 
 
249 
 
 that when reviled, He reviled not again ? Why did He 
 give His back to the smitera, and hid not his face from 
 shame and spitting ? One look of power from the suf- 
 fering Redeemer would have been sufficient for His de- 
 liverance. But these were a part of the price of your 
 redemption, and Jesus suffered them meekly and wil- 
 lingly, that He might save you from the deeper dishonor 
 of sin, and exalt you to glory and honor. It was the 
 same unquenchable love for the soul, and the joy that 
 was set before Him in the sinner's salvation, that led 
 the Son of God to the agonies of the Garden and the 
 Cross. And will you let Him die in vain? Shall 
 Heaven exhaust all its treasures of power, and of love, 
 to save you, and yet will you persevere in sin and 
 perish ? 
 
 " O more tlian merciful ! whose bounty gave 
 Thy guiltless self to glut the greedy grave ! 
 Whose heart was rent, to pay Thy people's price, 
 The great High Priest at once, and Sacrifice ! 
 Bless'd Saviour ! by Thy Cross and crimson stain, 
 Let not Thy precious blood be spilt in vain !" 
 
 22 
 
0ennon 1$. 
 
 A HAPPY RISING BY ANY MEANS. 
 
 (E ASTER.) 
 
 Phillippians, III. 11. ^^Ifly any means I might attain unto 
 the resurrection of the dead." 
 
 If these words were considered by themselTes, and 
 an attempt were made to interpret them irrespective of 
 the context, and of all that the Apostle had elsewhere 
 written concerning the resurrection, it would be impos- 
 sible to arrive at a meaning, consistent either with the 
 Apostle himself, or the declarations of other parts of 
 Scripture. " If by any means I might attain unto the 
 resuiTection of the dead." Can it be, it might be asked, 
 that by these words, the Apostle means to express a 
 doubt of his own rising at the last day ? Could he have 
 intended to sanction the unscriptural notion that the 
 resurrection of the body is a privilege, confined to the 
 believer, and that no others are to be called forth from 
 their graves ? This cannot be admitted without making 
 the Apostle plainly contradict himself. He has empha- 
 
251 
 
 tically taught us, that there shall be a resurrection of 
 the dead — both of the just and the unjust. We cannot, 
 therefore, admit that St. Paul doubted his own resur- 
 rection, without placing him at variance with himself. 
 To discover his precise meaning, it will be necessary to 
 look at the context. 
 
 It was the great effort of St. Paul, in his Epistles to 
 the Churches, to represent the intimate union which ex- 
 isted between the believer and Christ. By the life, 
 sufferings, death, resurrection, and ascension of our 
 Saviour, he illustrates the changes, and ultimate destiny, 
 of all who are united by a living faith to Cheist. Such 
 will be conformed to the Saviour, in all of these parti- 
 culars. As He lived, so will the believer live. Did he 
 suffer ? so must the Christian suffer. Did he die ? so 
 must the believer die ; not as the unbeliever dies, — for 
 the former will sleep in Jesus. Did he rise again, and 
 ascend with His glorified body into Heaven? so also 
 them that sleep in Jesus will God bring with him, to a 
 happy and glorious resurrection, to be ever with their 
 Lord, in a union still more intimate, and never to be 
 interrupted. 
 
 That this was the resurrection to which the Apostle 
 referred, and after which he was striving, will appear 
 from the previous verses: "Yea, doubtless," he says, 
 " I count all things but loss, for the excellency of the 
 knowledge of Cheist Jesus, my Lord, for whom I have 
 suffered the loss of all things, and do count them but 
 dung, that I may win Cheist, and be found in Him ;" 
 « that I may know Him, and the power of His resurrec- 
 tion, and the fellowship of His sufferings, being made 
 conformable unto His death ; if, by any means, I might 
 
252 
 
 attain unto the resurrection of the dead." As though 
 he had said, — ^it is my earnest wish and effort, to be, in 
 in all respects, like Christ. I do not expect to be glori- 
 fied together with Him, unless I first suffer with Him. 
 And that I may attain this blessed result, — that when 
 I rise from the grave, this vile body may be changed, 
 and made like unto the Saviour's glorious body, I have 
 renounced all for Him, that I may win Him, — that I may 
 be found in Him, — ^be conformed to His sufferings, yea, 
 even to His death, if by any means, I may know the 
 power of His resurrection also, and thus have all my 
 conflicts crowned with an everlasting triumph. 
 
 All shall rise from the dead. But, as all do not live 
 and die in the Lord, — as all do not sleep in Jesus, so 
 all will not feel the power of His resurrection. They 
 wiU rise at the summons of the last trump, — but having 
 lived and died, apart from Chbist, strangers to the Sa- 
 viour's grace, they wiU awake to hear the sentence of an 
 everlasting separation from Him. 
 
 It was, then, a happy resurrection which the Apostle 
 contemplated, — ^the Christian's resurrection, — ^that last 
 change which shall take place in the destiny of both 
 soul and body, — and after which the believer shall be 
 confirmed in holiness and happiness forever. In this 
 point of view, it is the same as if the Apostle had said, 
 " If by any means, I may secure the salvation of my 
 soul." 
 
 Considered in this light, the words of our text suggest 
 some important reflections. 
 
 I. They disclose to us the value which St. Paul placed 
 upon the soul's salvation. It was not with him a specu- 
 lative admission, a cold assent to a doctrine, — the bare 
 
253 
 
 yielding to an ii-resistible conclusion ; — nor vas it an 
 acknowledgment made with reluctance,- — a truth to 
 ■which the judgment bowed, but against which the heart 
 rebelled. He embraced it with every faculty and affec- 
 tion of his soul, as a subject demanding his first atten- 
 tion, and worthy to take precedence of all other claims. 
 The world was, in his view, but a very small spot in the 
 vast universe of God ; — and all connected with it, when 
 contrasted with the boundless and pei'manent interests 
 of eternity, were like a dream, — a shadow, a vapor that 
 appeareth for a moment, and then vanisheth away. It 
 was a settled and lasting conviction, — taking its place 
 among the sober realities of his existence, and not 
 merely the product of a melancholy hour, or the result 
 of disappointment, and disgust with the vorld. Whether 
 the world smiled or frowned, he seems never to have 
 forgotten its worthlessness, — never beguiled by its 
 allurements, or dismayed by its threatenings. His faiths 
 brought the glories, and the solemnities, of the invisible 
 world around him. He steadily kept his eye fixed upon 
 the hour of death. He contemplated that hour, in which 
 all that are in their graves shall hear the voice of the 
 Son of God, and shall come forth, some to the resurrec- 
 tion of damnation. He followed the soul onward to the 
 judgment-seat, and listened, in anticipation, to the sen- 
 tence that should then be pronounced. He remembered, 
 that the soul is immortal, and will be forever rising, 
 higher and higher amid the glories of Heaven, or sinkings 
 deeper and deeper in the bereavements and woes of 
 hell. Amid such reflections as these the Apostle lived. 
 Eternal realities were not the subject of a passing- 
 thought, — an unwelcome interruption to accustomed 
 
 22* 
 
254 
 
 occupations ; but they formed the motives of his daily 
 life, and led him to exclaim, " I count all things but loss, 
 that I maybe found in Christ," — " that I may know the 
 power of His resurrection." I am "willing to be partaker 
 in the fellowship of His sufferings, yea, even to be con- 
 formed xmto His death, " if, by any means, I may attain 
 unto the resurrection of the dead." In all this, St. Paul 
 felt and spoke, as every one of us should feel and speak. 
 The same ransom has been paid for our redemption. 
 We must stand with him before the same tribunal. We 
 shall join with him at last, in the same song of praise, 
 or shall mingle our lamentations with those of the lost. 
 Are we regarding these facts according to the estimate 
 of the Apostle ? Does the salvation of the soul occupy 
 the ^rsi place in our thoughts ? Is it the willing subject 
 of our daily contemplation ? Do the solemn- scenes of 
 the resurrection, — the judgment, and eternity, force 
 themselves upon our attention, as an unwelcome intru- 
 sion? Do they interrupt us amid what we conceive 
 to be more important business ? And when they come, 
 are they soon dismissed ? Let me remind you that the- 
 world is passing away, and will soon be gone. Its com- 
 forts melt beneath our touch. Every step of our pro- 
 gress to the grave diminishes their value, while the im- 
 portance of the soul's salvation increases with every 
 step. The soul will live forever. Its safety, — ^its present 
 and everlasting welfare, should therefore be the subject, 
 upon which you lay the utmost stress. " Seek first the 
 kingdom of God, and His righteousness." 
 
 H. Not only did St. Paul's judgment recognize the 
 supreme importance of the soul's salvation, but he felt 
 the necessity of acting in consistency with so solemn a 
 
255 
 
 conviction. " If by any means I might attain." These 
 words are expressive not only of effort, but of great 
 effort, — of vigorous and enduring toil. The Apostle 
 was no stranger to the doctrine of grace. He was its 
 great champion, and fearlessly proclaimed it, among 
 those who would, as he knew, abuse the doctrine. But 
 at the same time, he strenuously inculcated, both by pre- 
 cept and example, the duty of " working out our salva- 
 tion with fear and trembling." " Give diligence," he 
 writes, " to make your calling and election sure." And 
 none can read the life of this eminent servant of God, 
 and not admire the noble daring, — the unflinching reso- 
 lution, — the unbroken and consistent energy, with which 
 he pressed toward the mark for the prize of his high 
 calling. He fought, like a soldier struggling for the vic- 
 tory. He watched, as one who knew that he walked 
 amidst snares and dangers and malignant foes. He 
 measured the importance and the reasonableness of ex- 
 ertion, by the priceless value of the soul, — its capacity 
 for enjoyment, and for suffering, and by the incalculable 
 consequences resulting from success or defeat. This is 
 the Christian's truest logic, — the best and the highest 
 reason for Christian effort. Whatever we truly value, 
 will certainly call forth exertion ; — and our exertions 
 will correspond with the estimate we place upon the 
 object of our toils. " I keep under my body," writes 
 St. Paul, " lest when I have preached to others, I myself 
 should be a castaway." We cite this passage as evi- 
 dence, that he who attributed all that he was, or hoped 
 to be in eternity, to the mere grace of God, thought it 
 not inconsistent to urge upon the believer, the duty of 
 being a co-worker with God. The spii'itual idler will 
 
256 
 
 be sure to reap the idler's harvest. " Well done, good 
 and faithful servant," are the words to be addressed at 
 last, to every heir of heaven. Let us imagine these 
 words addressed to any one of ourselves, and compare 
 them with our diligence in the service of our Master. 
 How do they sound, when we contrast them with what 
 we have done for Cheist, and with the evidence we are 
 daily giving of our love for spiritual: employments ? We 
 do not wish to represent the joys of Heaven, as the re- 
 ward of the believer's merits ; but would urge the reflec- 
 tion, that a comfortable persuasion of our being indeed 
 partakers of the grace of salvation, will be greatly in 
 proportion to our fidelity in discharging the duties of a 
 Christian life. K we love the Saviour, we shall delight 
 to do whatever He has commanded. And if Heaven be 
 prized, as it should, the soul's final safety wiU be the 
 object of our grateful solicitude. The means of grace 
 so wisely provided, will not only be used, but used with 
 a diligence and earnestness, commensurate with the end 
 we have in view. Prayer, then, should be the fruit of a 
 travailing and earnest spirit, — of a soul wrestling with 
 her Maker, and resolved not to let Him go, without a 
 blessing. Let your meditation upon heavenly things 
 not be a dreamy, unavailing efi^ort, — but persevere until 
 you have caught something of the spirit, and can breathe 
 the atmosphere, of heaven. Li reading the Scriptures, 
 search them, as one who is digging for hid treasures — 
 and the Spirit of Truth will unfold to your understand- 
 ing, the wonders of His law. And so in all the other 
 means of grace ; — ^in attending the services of the Sanc- 
 tuary, — especially in partaking of the Sacramental Feast, 
 and in every thing that you do for Christ, let it appear 
 
257 
 
 that you place a proper value upon the soul's salvation. 
 In a word, earnestness should characterize the Chris- 
 tian's spirit, — an earnestness inspired by the scenes of 
 that last great Day, when heaven and earth shall pass 
 away, and Chkist shall mount His judgment Throne. 
 Shrink not, then, from any thing that may serve to 
 strengthen your hope of final salvation, "if by any 
 means, you may attain unto" a blessed " resurrection of 
 the dead." 
 
 m. Finally. The words of the Apostle imply an 
 entire resignation to whatever methods the wisdom of 
 Grod might employ, in qualifying him for future blessed- 
 ness. 
 
 We have already seen that his feelings and his ac' 
 tions were the counterpart of each other, and that if he 
 spoke with enthusiasm, or with solemn earnestness, he 
 evidenced the sincerity and strength of his persuasions, 
 by a corresponding energy ia his labors. But this was 
 not all. He manifested the steadfastness of his faith, 
 and his anxiety to finish his course with joy, under cir- 
 cumstances far more trying, than the simple discharge 
 of his public and private duties. He was not only Paul, 
 the unwearied servant and Apostle of the Lord Jesus, 
 but he was Paul the afflicted. He not only met with 
 courage the difficulties and mortifications incident to 
 his position, as the preacher of a despised G-ospel, but 
 in "much weakness," and under "many infirmities," he 
 manifested the obedience of a son, by an entire submis- 
 sion to the will of God. In the opinion of one of the 
 greatest captains that the world has ever known, "the 
 first quality of a soldier is patient endurance; — ^valor," 
 be says, " is but a secondary virtue." The truth of this 
 
258 
 
 maxim 'will commend itself to every thoughtful mind. 
 There is something in the shock of the battle-field, and ia 
 the excitement of immediate conflict, that has often sus- 
 tained even the soul of a coward, and transfused into 
 his spirit a something that was mistaken for courage. 
 The man who has sought death at the cannon's mouth, 
 has trembled like a child as the king of terrors made 
 his silent approaches to the sick bed. Hundreds have 
 rushed impetuously into the midst of carnage, who have 
 basely forsaken their standards, when hunger and thirst, 
 and cold and nakedness, and wasting disease, have in- 
 vaded the inactivity of the camp. They were not pre- 
 pared by " any means" to achieve the victory. It was 
 in this department of the Christian's conflict, that St. 
 Paul exhibited his heroism, and showed his supreme re- 
 gard for the issue of the struggle. He was a man of 
 like passions with other men, and lest he should be ex- 
 alted above measure, through the abundance of the vis- 
 ions and revelations of the Lord, there was given him a 
 " thorn ia the flesh," the messenger of Satan, to buffet 
 him. It is impossible for us to know what this peculiar 
 affliction of the Apostle was ; but we know that it was 
 a severe trial to his patience and resignation. He 
 could fight with beasts at Ephesus, and fearlessly en- 
 counter the prejudices of the Jew, and the contempt of 
 the Gentile, and the encounter seemed only to nerve 
 him to a bold defiance, and to brighten his anticipations 
 of a future triumph. When he was going bound in the 
 spirit, unto Jerusalem, not knowing the things that 
 should befall him there, save that bonds and afflictions 
 awaited him, he could exclaim with the confidence of 
 Christian faith,— "But none of these things move me, 
 
259 
 
 neither count I my life dear unto myself, so that I might 
 finish my course with joy, and the ministry which I have 
 received of the Lord Jesus." But when the hand of 
 God was laid upon him, and he felt the pressure of an 
 affliction, whose fretting and consuming power followed 
 him from the busy world, even to the secret chamber, — 
 when his hours of solitude, which probably had once 
 been his only refuge from the storms without, became 
 disturbed by the ceaseless corrodings of a foe, with 
 whom he could not grapple, then, even the soul of the 
 Apostle bowed under the dispensation, and he became 
 as a " weaned child " in the hands of God. We no 
 longer hear the shout of the soldier rushing into battle, 
 but from his place of prayer, we hear him, in the accents 
 of subdued and earnest supplication, repeatedly entreat- 
 ing the Disposer of events, that he would remove from 
 him this af&iction. — " For this thing," he says, " I be- 
 sought the Lord thrice that it might depart from me." 
 But his prayer was not the prayer of complaint, or of 
 murmuring, but of perfect resignation to the will of God. 
 For when the Saviour answered, " My grace is sufficient 
 for thee," we once again hear from this servant of Christ, 
 more than the language of submission. — "Most gladly," 
 he says, " will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the 
 power of Oheist may rest upon me ; therefore I take 
 pleasure in infirmity, and in distresses for Christ's 
 sake ; for when I am weak, then am I strong." How 
 closely, in this respect, was St. Paul conformed to the 
 sufferings of his Master. Thrice did the Saviour pray 
 in His agony, " Father ! if it be possible, let this cup 
 pass from Me ! Nevertheless, not My will but Thine, be 
 done." 
 
260 
 
 Such Avas the unfeigned sincerity of St. Paul, when he 
 professed himself willing, " by any means," to attain 
 imto a blessed resurection. Are you ready to follow 
 him, even as he followed Christ? If you have not 
 been already called to exhibit the grace of endurance, — 
 a quiet submission to the will of our sovereign God, it 
 is more than probable, that before you reach the haven 
 of your eternal rest, God, in Ms faithfulness, will purify 
 you in the fires of affiction. You may place a high val- 
 ue upon the soul's salvation, and love to contemplate the 
 glory which shaU be revealed iu the saints. You may 
 be active ia the service of Christ, and may take great 
 delight thereiu, and yet you may not be prepared for 
 the hour of suffering affliction. Oh ! there is something 
 in this last trial of the Christian's strength, under which 
 he must either bend, or break. To rejoice in suffering, 
 that the soul may be saved, and Christ be glorified, — 
 this is the index of a soul, desirous by " any means," to 
 know the power of the Saviour's resurrection. If be- 
 reavement comes, and from your embrace is taken the 
 dearest object of your affections, — ^if friends forsake, — 
 if worldly comforts leave you, — ^if sickness, and pain, 
 and distress, and days and nights of weariness are ap- 
 pointed you, regard them as the means by which your 
 spirit is to be ripened for eternal joys. Look onward 
 to the bright and glorious morning of the Resurrection, 
 when you shall take your place among those who have 
 come up out of great iiibulations, and have washed 
 their robes, and made them white in the blood of the 
 Lamb. who can wonder that the suffering Christian, 
 in view of so blessed a ternunation to his conflicts, 
 should adopt, the earnest prayer of the beloved disciple, 
 " Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly." But the time is 
 
261 
 
 short. Be ye all patient ; stablish your hearts : for the 
 coining of the Lord draweth nigh." 
 
 My impenitent hearer ! you must die, and be buried : 
 and at the command of the Son of God, you must come 
 forth from the grave, and be judged by Him, who has 
 the keys of death, and of hell. I need not ask whether 
 you feel prepared for the solemnities of that tribunal. 
 So long as you live in impenitence, — a lover of the world, 
 of its business, or its pleasures, more than a lover of 
 God, you cannot be prepared for death, nor for a joy- 
 ful resurrection, nor for the employments of the redeem- 
 ed. If you be not united to the Saviour by the power 
 of a living faith, you cannot be supported by His pres- 
 ence in the hour of death : and you must lie down 
 in solitary corruption, — not to sleep in Jesus. And 
 when you shall be awakened from the slumbers of the 
 tomb, — if you be not found in Him, your defenceless 
 soul will call in vain upon the rocks and the mountains, 
 to shelter you from the consuming wrath of the Lamb. 
 What means are you employing, that you may attain to 
 the resurrection of the just ? So far from counting all 
 things but loss for Christ, you are rejecting the Saviour, 
 and choosing to have your portion in this life. And 
 can you then expect that the Saviour, who was a suiferer 
 and a stranger for you on earth, will own and bless you, 
 when He shall come again in the glory of His Father, 
 with the holy angels ? If you lay up your treasures 
 here upon the earth, to the neglect of Christ, and of a 
 heavenly inheritance, you are " treasuring up wrath 
 against the day of wrath." What a bitter disappoint- 
 ment it will be for you, to hear from the lips of yom- 
 Judge — " Remember that thou hast received thy good 
 things." 23 
 
0ermon 10. 
 
 CONFIRMATION. 
 
 Hebrews vi. 2. — "■And of laying on of hands." 
 
 As some of you are soon to come forward, publiclj^ 
 to recognize the vows of your Baptism, and to be con- 
 firmed in the same, it is altogether proper that your at- 
 tention should be directed to-day, to the natui*e of that 
 Rite which is to be administered, and of the obligations 
 which it imposes on all its recipients. For this purpose, 
 I have chosen the words of the text. 
 
 In the previous pari of this Epistle, St. Paul rebukes 
 the Hebrews for the little progTCSS they had made in 
 the knowledge of the Gospel. " For when," he says, 
 •' ye ought to be teachers, ye have need that one teach 
 you again which be the first principles of the oracles of 
 God ; and are become such as have need of milk, and not 
 of strong meat." But notwithstanding their little profi- 
 ciency in religious knowledge and attainments, he con- 
 cludes to discuss for their instruction, the important doc- 
 trine which before he had seemed to think them almost in- 
 capable of understanding or appreciating. " Therefore," 
 
263 
 
 he says, "leaving the principles of the doctrine of Christ, 
 let us go on unto perfection, — ^not laying again the foun- 
 dation of repentance from dead works, and of faith to- 
 wards God, of the doctrine of Baptisms, and op laying 
 ON OP HANDS, and of the resurrection of the dead, and 
 of eternal judgment." 
 
 From these words of St. Paul it plainly appears, that 
 there existed in the church such a practice as the " lay- 
 ing on of hands," and that it must necessarily be one 
 not of a transient nature, — ^not instituted for a particu- 
 lar or temporary emergency, and then to be -abolished ; 
 but that it was intended to exist in all ages of the 
 Church, and to be of perpetual obligation. This is evi- 
 dent from the fact that St. Paul ranks it among the 
 principles of the doctrine of Christ : and wc all know 
 that the principles of any system cannot be destroyed, 
 without an essential alteration in the system itself. 
 And to suppose that any alteration, or essential modifi- 
 cation, may be predicated of Christianity, is, impliedly 
 at least, to challenge the infallibility and wisdom of 
 Him, who is the author and the finisher of our Faith. 
 Observe too, that the Apostle places it in the same 
 category with Repentance and Faith and Baptism, — the 
 Resurrection of the dead, and the eternal judgment. 
 Until then we can discover some new method of justifi- 
 cation in the sight of God, besides that of Repentance 
 and Faith, — until it shall bo shown that the Resurrec- 
 tion from the dead is but a fable, and that they who are 
 fallen asleep in Christ are perished, — until the words 
 of the same Apostle, assiu-ing us that we shall all appear 
 before the Judgment of Christ, shall be deprived of 
 their momentous import, and men shall be no longer 
 
264 
 
 accountable for their actions, — as long, in a word, as 
 these elementary truths of our religion shall remain 
 unshaken in their integrity, so long must " the laying on 
 of hands" be maintained, as a perpetual institution of 
 the Church of Christ. 
 
 But although the perpetuity of this ordinance seems 
 evidently to be founded upon so impregnable a basis, 
 the inquiry yet remains, what is the nature of the ordi- 
 nance itself? What was the object intended to be ac- 
 complished by the laying on of hands ? In answering 
 these questions, we need something else to guide us, 
 than the few words of the text. 
 
 From the Scriptures, then, we learn that the ceremony 
 of laying on of hands was employed, 1. In Ordaining to 
 the sacred functions of the Gospel Ministry. Thus we 
 find- St. Paul giving this admonition to Timothy, — " Stir 
 up the gift of God which is in thee by the putting on of my 
 hands." And again, when charging him, in reference to 
 the admission of persons to the Pastoral Office in the 
 Church, he says, " Lay hands suddenly on no man." 
 
 2. In the second place, we find that in healing the 
 sick, this ceremony was almost universally employed. 
 
 3. And thirdly, in conferring a blessing, it seems to 
 have been equally customary. Thus, when little children 
 were brought to Christ, it was that He might lay His 
 hands upon them, and bless them. 
 
 But it must be evident that the Apostle, in our text, 
 could not have alluded to any of these customs. He is 
 not addressing those who were appointed to minister in 
 the Chm'ch, but a body of private Christians. The Rite, 
 therefore, which he Ifiid in view, could not have beten 
 that of Ordination, for in that, so far as their own 
 
265 
 
 personal experience was concerned, they could not have 
 been so essentially interested. As before observed, 
 the ceremony, mentioned by St. Paul, must have been as 
 universal in its application, and as capable of being 
 participated in, by every Christian, as the faith and re- 
 pentance, with which it is classed. Neither could the 
 Apostle have alluded to the healing of the sick, for that 
 was but an incidental emergency, and bearing no analogy 
 whatever to the doctrines of our faith; and moreover, 
 it was only of a partial and temporary application. 
 Nor coiild he have referred to the act of blessing : for 
 we can perceive nothing therein that would entitle it to 
 be ranked among the principles of the doctrine of 
 Cheist. 
 
 There is, however, one further purpose, for which we 
 learn that the ceremony of the laying on of hands was 
 administered. In the eighth chapter of " the Acts," and 
 at the fourteenth verse, we find the following transac- 
 tion narrated : " Now when the Apostles which were at 
 Jerusalem, heard that Samaria had received the Word 
 of God, they sent unto them Peter and John, who, when 
 they were come down, prayed for them, that they might 
 receive the Holy Ghost; (for as yet He was fallen upon 
 none of them, only they were baptized in the name of the 
 Lord Jesus.) Then laid they their hands on them, and 
 they received the Holy Ghost." So also in the nine- 
 teenth chapter of " the Acts," we read that after the 
 twelve disciples, whom St. Paul found at Ephesus, had' 
 been baptized, " he laid his hands on them, and they re- 
 ceived the Holy Ghost." That, we have no reason tO' 
 doubt, was the ceremony which St. Paul had in view, 
 when writing to the Hebrews. It was one not confined 
 
 23« 
 
266 
 
 in its application to any particular order of persons in 
 the Church, but was administered freely to all who had 
 been baptized ; and consequently, the Hebrew converts 
 must be supposed not only to have been instructed, in 
 reference to the existence of the ordinance, but must 
 also have been partakers of it themselves, and, of course, 
 as much interested in the mention of it, as of the other 
 points, with which the Apostle connected it. 
 
 Let us observe, moreover, the place assigned to it, 
 among the several points enumerated in the context : — 
 repentance, faith, baptism, laying on of hands. Here we 
 may discern a regular, and systematic and consistent 
 progression ; — Repentance, as the very first act of the 
 mind in the sinner's return to God, — Faith in the Lord 
 Jesus Christ, as the only means of rendering this re- 
 pentance available in the sight of God, — Baptism, the 
 next step to be taken, by which the penitent and believ- 
 ing person is to be admitted to union and fellowship 
 with Cheist's visible Church, — and then follows as an 
 immediate consequence, the laying on of hands, or (as 
 it is now termed, from the purpose which it is intended 
 to serve,) the rite of Conpiemation. Now if we atten- 
 tively consider the collocation of the Apostle, in con- 
 nection with the fact, that in the instances of the admin- 
 istration of this Rite, mentioned in Scripture, it was 
 always immediately subsequent to Baptism, there seems 
 to be not the shadow of a doubt remaining, that St- 
 Paul alluded, in our text, to this primitive ordinance. 
 
 There is another circumstance to be noticed in the 
 account which is given us in " the Acts," viz : that the 
 disciples could not avail themselves of the benefits of 
 this ordinance, until the arrival of the Apostles. By 
 
267 
 
 them alone, could it be administered. For although the 
 disciples had been converted under the preaching of 
 Philip, and had been baptized by him, yet it was not 
 until the Apostles at Jerusalem sent unto them Peter 
 and John, their fellow-apostles, that the converts re- 
 ceived the Holy Ghost by the laying on of hands. And 
 Buch is stUl, and such always has been, the practice of 
 the Church. The authority to administer this Rite is so 
 strictly appropriated to the highest officer in the Church, 
 (the Bishop) that, under no circumstances, can a Priest 
 or Deacon be delegated to perform it. 
 
 Such, my Brethren, are the grounds we have for re- 
 garding the rite of Confirmation as an Apostolic insti- 
 tution. 
 
 But the question may here arise, — "Was not the ad- 
 ministration of this rite, confined as it was to the Apos- 
 tles, intended to be laid aside, together with the extra- 
 ordinary powers possessed by the Apostles ? Do we 
 not find that, by the laying on of the Apostles' hands, 
 miraculous gifts were conferred, such as prophesying, 
 -r— healing, — speaking with tongues, — working miracles ? 
 and may we not suppose that when the wants of the 
 Church no longer demanded these miraculous exhibi- 
 tions of Divine power, the ordinance by which they were 
 conveyed, was also dispensed with ? Such a question 
 as this, however, is suggested both by a misapprehen- 
 sion of facts, and by confounding the main design of 
 the ordinance, that which was to be the perpetual effect 
 of it, with that which was only incidental and tempora- 
 ry. By referring to St. Paul's first Epistle to the Cor- 
 inthians, who bad shown a disposition to pride them- 
 selves on the possession of these gifts, we find him ad- 
 
268 
 
 dressing them, in questions such as these, — ^"Are all 
 apostles ? are all prophets ? are all teachers ? are all 
 workers of miracles ? have all the gifts of healing ? do 
 all speak with tongues ? " Here we have the fact plain- 
 ly intimated, that although the laying on of hands was 
 administered to all, yet it was by no means followed 
 with the same effects upon all. And from the tenor of 
 the Apostle's subsequent language, it seems clear that 
 however highly the Corinthians might estimate the value 
 of their " gifts," in his own estimation, they were but of 
 inferior value. For he says, " Covet earnestly the best 
 gifts, and yet I show unto you a more excellent way ;" 
 and then proceeds in the following chapter, to descant 
 most eloquently upon the pre-eminent excellencies of 
 Charity, or a spirit of Christian love, — a grace which 
 every Christian in all ages of the Church, must possess and 
 diligently cultivate. Here it is, Brethren, in the urgency 
 with which St. Paul recommends to the members of the 
 Corinthian Church this most excellent gift, that we dis- 
 cover the true intent, — the main, the permanent beneiits 
 which were to be derived from partaking of the Rite 
 now under consideration. The 'miraculous gifts were 
 but incidentally connected with it ; they were of a tem- 
 porary nature, and designed to serve a specific and 
 temporary purpose ; but Christian love was to endure 
 forever. For, as the Apostle himself hath written, 
 "Charity never faileth." While, then, these extraordin- 
 ary and miraculous gifts were more showy and attrac- 
 tive, and calculated to leave on a mere spectator, the 
 impression that they were the most important benefits 
 bestowed upon the early Christians, we are taught by 
 St. Paul, to place them in a subordinate rank ; and to 
 
269 
 
 look for the chief design of the " laying on of hands," 
 in the solid, enduring, but less obtrusive, graces of the 
 Spirit. 
 
 And this is further confirmed by the fact, that it is an 
 ordinance which has never been discontinued in the 
 Church. In the periods subsequent to the time of the 
 Apostles, after the age of miracles had passed away, it 
 still remained in use, as one of the established and 
 prominent institutions of the Church. 
 
 We sec, then, that the argument derived from miracu- 
 lous gifts, is of no weight whatever ; but that so long as 
 faith and hope and love shall abide as necessary to the 
 Christian character and comfort, so long will the " laying 
 on of hands" continue as an indestructible vehicle in the 
 Church of God, for the conveyance and the confirmation 
 of these, and other Christian graces. 
 
 Having thus briefly stated the authority, the origin, 
 and the design of this ordinance, I would in conclusion, 
 address a few words to those, who are more particular- 
 ly interested in the subject. 
 
 God, in establishing a visible Church, and in institu- 
 ting visible means of grace, by no means intended that 
 we should attach to those outward visible means and 
 ceremonies, any intrinsic efficacy in conferring the 
 spiritual blessing. Although He has been pleased to 
 constitute them the channel, through which, as an ordi- 
 nary rule, He communicates the influences of His Spirit, 
 yet we are not so to limit the Almighty, as to suppose 
 that they are the only means which He possesses of visit- 
 ing the soul with a sense of His favor, or that the benefits 
 of religion are necessarily and inseparably connected 
 with those means. There is no mysterious magic in any of 
 
270 
 
 the Lord's institutions, by which they invariably impart 
 benefits, without regard to the condition, or the motives, 
 of those who approach to participate. Under the Old 
 Testament dispensation, God ordained a regular system 
 of sacrificial worship, — by a due conformity to which, the 
 worshipper was made partaker of the Divine blessing. 
 The Jews, in the time of St. Paul, had so far mistaken the 
 true import of these sacrifices, as to suppose that they 
 were, of themselves, effectual in securing a national and 
 individual salvation. But St. Paul, in this Epistle to the 
 Hebrews, corrects their error. He tells them that these 
 sacrifices were but the shadow of good things to come, — 
 of the one Great Sacrifice, which was to be offered for 
 the sins of the world ; and that without a spirit of faith 
 in the worshipper, he would derive no spiritual profit 
 from the services of the Temple. "Por," says he, "it 
 is not possible that the blood of hulls and of goats 
 should take away sins," i. e. that they had no inherent 
 virtue of their own, in procuring a transgressor's pardon. 
 
 From this we gather two important facts ; that the 
 means of grace derive their value, not so much from any 
 fitness that we can discover ia them, as from the fact 
 that God has instituted them, and has promised to bless 
 them ; and, that these means, to be made effectual, must 
 be used with proper feelings, if we would avail our- 
 selves of the promise of God. 
 
 And while we avoid the error which has been referred 
 to, let us be careful, on the other hand, not to reject, 
 nor neglect, any of the appointed means, as unnecessary, 
 because we can see no use in them. 
 
 Endeavor, then, my Brethren, by frequent and devout 
 meditation, — by humble fervent prayer, to realize the 
 
271 
 
 solemnity and the importance of that transaction, in 
 which you are soon to engage. Often place yourselves. 
 in the presence of that great Being, with whom you are 
 to ratify your Baptismal engagement. Remember who. 
 it is, that is about to receive and register your vows. 
 Remember that He searcheth the hearts, and trieth the 
 reins of the children of men ; that he desireth truth and 
 sincerity in the inward parts, and that without such 
 qualities, you have no warrant to expect His blessing. 
 You are to confirm the promises, that you made, or that 
 were made in your name, at the Baptismal Pont. You 
 are to declare your willingness to serve the Lord your 
 Grod, and to devote your lives to a Redeemer, who gave 
 His own for you. And does not this imply, that 
 since you first entered into covenant with God, you have 
 seen no reason to repent of that step ? And such, we 
 hope, is really the fact. Look back over all the way in 
 which the Lord hath led you, since you iirst became a 
 child of God ; and is there anything for which you can 
 impeach the faithfulness and tenderness of your heavenly 
 Father ? Has He not fed you with the spiritual manna, 
 and have not the streams of His mercy followed you 
 continually ? Has He failed, in so much as one of all 
 the good things which He covenanted to bestow ? In 
 many sweet seasons of private communion with God, 
 when you had entered into your closet, and closed the 
 door, — when no eye could see you, but His that seeth 
 in secret, have you not been enabled to cry in the con- 
 fidence of filial love, — "Truly, Lord, Thou art our 
 Father ! " Li the spirit of adoption, have you not been 
 tenderly drawn towards Him, to commune with the Au- 
 thor of all your hopes and consolations ? to plead His 
 
272 
 
 own promises, and to receive fresh strength and cour- 
 age for the remainder of your conflict ? And in all this, 
 did you not experience that He is indeed a faithful and 
 ever gracious God ? Come then, and draw still nearer 
 to Him, in the bonds of your ratified vows. Come and 
 tell Him, and tell the world, of His faithfulness and 
 love. Come and receive fresh tokens of favor. We 
 cannot draw too near to Him, my Brethren ; He invites 
 us to an intimacy; He freely offers us His blessings; 
 and all that He asks of us, is that we should feel our need 
 of them, and take them as freely as they are offered. 
 Come then, and join yourself to the Lord in a covenant 
 that shall never be broken. Be faithful unto death; 
 endure, as seeing Him who is invisible, till you shall 
 hereafter see Him face to face, and ratify your vows 
 again in heaven ! 
 
0fi*mou 20, 
 
 THE PLEASURES OF A RELIGIOUS LIFE. 
 
 Pko VERBS, III. 17. — "Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and 
 all her paths are peace." 
 
 In Holy Scripture, the terms " Wisdom" and " Polly," 
 are frequently employed as synonymous with "religion'' 
 and " irreligion;" and the propriety of this use of the 
 terms is justified by the experience of the righteous, 
 and the blessed termination of their course, and also by 
 the corresponding experience of the wicked, in an un- 
 peaceful, unsatisfying life, and in a dark and cheerless 
 death. 
 
 No man was better qualified to pronounceitestimony 
 upon this subject than Solomon. He was master of all 
 the pleasures which unlimited sovereignty could confer ; 
 in the vastness of his wealth, in the extent of his autho- 
 rity, and in his knowledge and wisdom, he had no equaL 
 And yet, when viewing them as connected with the real, 
 lasting happiness of man, he has inscribed upon. them, 
 with unhesitating emphasis, " Vanity of vanities, — all is 
 vanity and vexation of spirit." Solomon was also fitted 
 
 24 
 
274 
 
 to speak on this subject, by the discipline of a peculiar 
 experience, — \>j painful remembrances of his own frailty 
 and unfaithfulness. The beginning of his reign was 
 great and glorious, in the sight of both God and man, 
 such as became an illusti-ious type of the Prince of 
 Righteousness and Peace ; but by a sad apostasy, he 
 fell, for a season, from that high eminence, and became 
 the slave of his lusts, and a rictim of the grossest idol- 
 atry. In his latter days of penitence and humiliation, 
 after he had tasted not only the cup of this world's in- 
 nocent pleasures, but had shared largely in her guilty 
 joys, he was every way competent to impress on a gay 
 and thoughtless world, the lessons of a large and bitter 
 experience. We may imagine him at the end of life, 
 looking back over his eventful course, and calculating 
 with sadness, but without mistake, the '■' wages of sin," 
 and the rewards of righteousness. And the result of 
 his survey was, that whilst " to the sinner, God giveth 
 travail," and vexation of soul, " to the man that is good 
 in His sight. He giveth wisdom and knowledge and joy." 
 
 Such was the verdict of Solomon, when deliberately 
 weighing the fruits of sin, against the fruits of holiness : 
 — a verdict drawn from his own sorrowful experience 
 of the one, and his humbliag remembrances of the other. 
 
 But the words of the text were probably uttered 
 before he had departed from the ways of the Lord, and 
 may therefore be considered as the language of a pious 
 heart, rejoicing in the peace of God, and the calm 
 pleasures of a religious life. When taken in connection 
 with the confessions of his declining years, they bear 
 solemn and conclusive witness to the truth, that in re- 
 ligion only can be found true and enduring happiness. 
 
275 
 
 Let us spend a brief space in attempting some illustra- 
 tions of that truth. 
 
 The text directly contradicts an error, very prevalent 
 among those who are strangers to religious joy, viz. that 
 the yoke of Christ, instead of being easy and light, im- 
 poses a burden so difficult, as to oppress the spirits with 
 an habitual melancholy and gloom. We would not, of 
 course, assert that religion has not its sorrows, its trials, 
 yea, even its heavy griefs. In becoming Christians, we are 
 not thereby exempt from the common lot of humanity. 
 Suffering, in its multiplied forms, lies all along the path 
 of the Christian, and death and the grave are as surely 
 his portion, as that of the most wayward and rebellious. 
 The happiness of the Christian, therefore, consists not in 
 being peculiarly free from trouble, but in being armed 
 with such defences, and supplied with such comforts, a? 
 shall be needed in seasons- of affliction. Nay, we may 
 admit that tliere are trials in religion, of a nature, and a 
 magnitude, unknown to the thoughtless and impenitent, 
 — sorrows which can find no comforter, save in God's 
 Holy Spirit, and difficulties not to be surmounted but by 
 the omnipotence of our Divine Helper. But these com- 
 forts and this aid are secured to the believer by the sure 
 mercies of an everlasting Covenant. His spiritual con- 
 quests and his spiritual joys, are more than enough to 
 repay him for the toils of the conflict. 
 
 The foregoing statement suggests a thought which 
 is worthy the serious consideration of those who refuse 
 the service of Cheist, from a fear that it will rob them 
 of their pleasures. We have seen that trouble is the 
 lot of all. If the Christian escapes it not, by assuming 
 the yoke of Christ, much less can you, by continuing in 
 
276 
 
 the service of sin. Is it not the part of -nisdom, then, to- 
 cultivate feelings, and habits of living, that are in ac- 
 cordance with our true condition ? K we are surrounded 
 by dangers, is it not wise to live soberly, and to be on 
 our' guard against them ? If we know not what a day 
 may bring forth, — if the pleasures of to-day may be 
 blasted by the heart-breaking sorrows of the morrow, is 
 it not well to live in preparation for so sad a change ? 
 If sickness, after all our enjoyments, must lay us upon a 
 bed of pain, and death must inevitably tear us from the 
 loved objects of life, is it gloom and melancholy that 
 prompt us to think much of these tilings ? or is it not 
 rather a dictate of the purest reason, the duty of a dy- 
 ing creature to lay them to heart, and to be forearmed 
 for the conflict with " the Last Enemy ?" 0, if there be 
 a dread Eternity before us, whose issues are everlasting 
 life, or everlasting death, does it not well become the 
 heir of immortality, to give diligence to make his calling 
 and election sm-e ? Xow let us remember, that it does 
 not rest with us, whether or not, we shall be sm-rounded 
 by such solemn facts ; calamities and death await us, 
 whether we wUl or not. Let us then ask ourselves 
 the question, — Whose is the highest pleasure ? Is it 
 his, who lives tremblingly amid these known and certain 
 perils, and yet drives them from his thoughts, till they 
 overtake him in their resistless might ? or is it the man's, 
 who daily stands prepared for the struggle, and when 
 it comes, can enter the furnace of affliction without sur- 
 prise or fear, sustained by the glorious hope of being 
 more than conqueror ? The seriousness of the believer, 
 so far from being the offspring of unhappiness or discon- 
 tent, is but the sobriety and watchfulness of a soldier in 
 
277 
 
 the presence of his deadly foe, — the earnestness of the 
 anxious mariner, amidst the billows of the raging sea. 
 0, how should we pity the sons and daughters of folly, 
 who can trifle, whilst surrounded by such dread solem- 
 nities ! Of their mirth, it may be said with truth, that 
 it is madness. Heaven is serious : Hell is serious. It 
 is a serious thing to live : it is a serious thing to die. 
 Happy, — thrice happy is he, who, amidst these stern 
 realities, is steadfastly treading in that strait and narrow 
 way which leadeth unto life ! 
 
 But let us proceed to illustrate the truth of the text; 
 by specifying some particulars, in which Religion im- 
 parts the highest and the truest happiness to man. 
 
 We would first premise, however, that there is no 
 part of our nature, which does not share in this blessed- 
 ness. Godliness is profitable for this life, as well as 
 for that which is to come. It cuts us off from no proper 
 enjoyment in its lawful measure. To both mind and 
 body it is a ministering angel. Whilst it checks us in 
 the ruinous indulgence of mere earthly pleasure, and 
 lends a keener relish for every legitimate pursuit, it 
 points us with the language of faith and hope, to a bet- 
 ter world, — a world of purer joys, — unchanging and 
 everlasting. It is with the things which are unseen and 
 eternal, that Religion has mainly to do. The blessed 
 light which it sheds upon the duties and enjoyments of 
 this world, is but the reflected glory of the upper spheres. 
 And in illustrating the pleasure and the peace of a re- 
 ligious life, we would direct your attention to such 
 points, as are more intimately connected with eternity, 
 and with the soul's everlasting welfare. 
 
 1. Religion furnishes the purest pleasure to the ««> 
 tellect of man. 24* 
 
278 
 
 Knowledge is not only power, but it is the main ele- 
 ment of happiness in a rational being. It is not a mere 
 ambition for worldly distinction, which leads so many 
 to make painful sacrifices, and to wear out life itself in 
 investigating the mysteries that are above us, and 
 around us, and within us; but in such processes of 
 thought, the mind finds its proper nutriment, and derives 
 an independent pleasure. The visible heavens, and the 
 earth which we inhabit, furnish a field, over which the 
 human intellect has delighted to roam. We stand in 
 awe, and iu silent admiration of the results which that 
 intellect has achieved, and is still achieving, for the in- 
 formation and the benefit of man. And we may well 
 suppose that those master spirits, many of whom have 
 lived and died unknown to fame, reaped a harvest of 
 unspeakable enjoyment, as the wonders of the heavens 
 and the earth successively unfolded themselves to their 
 triumphant efforts. The discovery of a new world, float- 
 ing afar off in the unmeasured fields of space, unseen by 
 the busy multitude, unheard in its silent wanderings, — 
 what a thriU of delight must it send to the mind of the 
 lonely explorer ! how mean and intrusive the applause 
 of men ! how degrading the very thought of fame, when 
 surrounded by the hallowing influences of a new-bom 
 truth! 
 
 But Religion furnishes the materials of a knowledge. 
 infinit ely more blessed, glorious, and sublime. She car- 
 ries us above and beyond all worlds, and reveals to the 
 intellect of man that Being " who spake and they were 
 created, — ^who commanded and they stood still." Amid 
 ■^ all the varieties of human knowledge, and the extent of 
 human attainments, the nature and the very existence of 
 
279 
 
 God remained a matter of doubt, and ignorant specula- 
 tion. None, by their searchings, could find out G-od : for 
 "no man knoweth the Father, save the Son, and he, to 
 whom the Son will reveal Him." You perceive, that in 
 speaking of Religion, and the knowledge of God, we 
 mean the Religion of Christ, and that knowledge which 
 proceeds from His all-informing Spirit. We mean the 
 knowledge of God in His infinite holiness, — in His infi- 
 nite love to sinners. We would pass over the glories- 
 of creation, and point you to " the glory of God in the 
 face of Jesus Christ." We would leave all other mys- 
 teries beliind, and fix your gaze upon the mystery of 
 redeeming grace. I would not send you simply from 
 " nature up to natures God," but would commend to 
 your love and admiration, " the God and Father of our 
 Lord Jesus Christ." There can be no pleasure in any 
 other view of our Almighty Judge. It is only as He is 
 seen, and His love is felt in the renewing and sanctify- 
 ing power of His Spirit, that we can look up in the 
 spirit of adoption, and contemplate with unceasing de- 
 light the unspeakable majesty of God. 
 
 We have spoken of the pleasure attending the first 
 discovery of a truth : and so is it, when God first re- 
 veals Himself to the humble soul, as He does not to the 
 world, — diffusing a holy joy, and a peace which passeth 
 understanding. 0, as the sanctified intellect rests upoa 
 God, and ponders the ever unfolding wonders of His 
 grace and love, every other study will lose its interest, 
 except as it is connected with this. The Book which 
 contains the record of His will, will be searched because 
 it is the Book of God, and supplies the only method by 
 which we can be made acquainted with His otherwise 
 
280 
 
 inscrutable purposes. We shall study and embrace its 
 doctrines, because in them we learn the character of 
 Bim, " whom truly to know, is everlasting Ufe." "We 
 shall study Him in His works, and all nature wiU be 
 glorious, only as she declares the glory of the God we 
 love. Come to the Saviour, and you will find food and 
 rest for an intellect, restless and roaming, and ever at 
 fault amidst the gross darkness of the world. This 
 " knowledge will be pleasant imto thy soul." " Seek for 
 it as for silver; then shalt thou understand the fear of 
 the Lord, and find the knowledge of God." " You will 
 count all things but loss, for the excellency of the know- 
 ledge of Christ Jesus your Lord." 
 
 2. Religion ministers a peculiar pleasiire to the moral 
 nature of man. 
 
 By this, '^•e mean, what is commonly understood by 
 "religious experience,'' — the peace and joy of a soul 
 once in conflict with all the purposes of God, but now 
 brought into delightful harmony with the Divine wiU: 
 the heart, once lavishing its affections upon the trifling 
 and unsatisfying objects of the world, but now elevated, 
 renewed, and finding in God an object of absorbing 
 love ; the conscience, once a constant accuser, silenced 
 and appeased only by violence and outrage, but now, 
 by the pardoning efiicacy of the blood of Cheist, drop- 
 ping the sentence of condemnation, and becoming a 
 faithful monitor, a salutary reprover, a friendly guide 
 and instructor in the path of duty. All the faculties 
 and affections of the soul have thus been reduced from 
 turbulence and chaos, into harmony with each other, 
 and into harmony with God. And how can a soul thus 
 changed, fail to become the subject of a joy too deep 
 
281 
 
 for utterance. What misery is comparable to that 
 which springs from man's unhallowed and unruly pas- 
 sions ! What desolation of the heart, like that which 
 finds its warm affections disappointed and beaten back 
 hj the insensibility or ingratitude of the world ! What 
 torture so keen as the reproaches of a guilty con- 
 science ! Must it not then be a source of the purest 
 delight, to be delivered from such a state ? Can any 
 outward circumstances, however happy in appearance, 
 compensate for the loss of inward peace ? What would 
 it profit a man, if he should gain the whole world, and 
 yet carry within his bosom, that which must often em- 
 bitter his hours of leisure and reflection with distress 
 and anguish, — which must make his seeming pleasures 
 painful, and cause him to shrink with dreadful reluc- 
 tance from the thought of death, — of falling into the 
 hands of the living God ? Welcome, all the sacrifices 
 and trials that religion may demand, rather than such a 
 life as that ! Well may the believer count his heaviest 
 tribulations, " all joy," when contrasted with the help- 
 less, comfortless moments of the impenitent ! 
 
 We have thus far spoken in a general way, of a soul 
 that is at peace with itself, and with God. It may not 
 be unprofitable to look a little more particularlyt at 
 some of the sources of the Christian's joy. 
 
 Religion, — -reconciliation with God through Jesus 
 Chkist, brings the soul into a most delightful connection 
 with God. There is between the Almighty, and His 
 once lost, but recovered cliild, a confiding and affection- 
 ate intercourse. The veil which once hung between 
 the soul and the inner sanctuary of God's presence and 
 glory, has been rent assunder ; and by that new and liv- 
 
282 
 
 iag way, which has been consecrated by the blood of 
 Jesus, he may approach with humble boldness, and make 
 known his requests unto God. And this intercourse is 
 mutual. God graciously draws nigh unto those who 
 draw nigh unto Him. There is a conscious nearness, — 
 a blessed communion, of the finite spirit, with the Infi- 
 nite and Eternal One. From this connection of the re- 
 generate soul with God, all those duties arise, in which 
 the Christian engages. The impenitent, strangers to 
 the love which prompts these duties, may regard them 
 as burdensome ; in his spiritual ignorance, he may scoff 
 at them, as useless and unmeaning; but to the believer, 
 they are " ways of pleasantness, and paths of peace." 
 His best argument for them is, that God has not only 
 commanded them, but that this command finds a ready 
 response in his willing heart, which turns that command 
 into a gracious privilege. Hence, all the ordinances of 
 religion are pleasant. It is pleasant to hold private 
 communion with God in the closet, — to come, as a man 
 unto his friend, to tell all our mind unto Him who seeth 
 in secret. It is pleasant to know that there is One in 
 this wide Universe, to whom we can unbosom our most 
 hidden griefs, and find a sympathy and relief, which no 
 earthly friend can give. It is pleasant at the family al- 
 tar, to oifer up the sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving, — 
 to come into the sanctuary of God, to enjoy His pres- 
 ence, and behold His glory. His Sabbaths are a de- 
 light : with David we can say, " How amiable are Thy 
 tabernacles, Lord of Hosts, my King and my God !'' 
 Again, — the pleasm-e and the peace of a religious 
 life, are not confined to the culture of individual piety ; 
 they spread themselves over the whole field of Chris- 
 
283 
 
 tian duty. A true attachment to Christ will move the 
 believer to expend his strength in promoting the Saviours 
 cause and glory. He must buffet the world's unbelief, 
 indifference, or contempt. Like his Master, who left 
 the peace of heaven for this rebellious world, he must 
 go out from the retirement of the closet, to seek and 
 to save that which is lost. And these duties will 
 necessarily be accompanied with their trials in a thou- 
 sand forms ; but in as many forms, will he experience 
 the fulfilment of the Saviour's promise, " In Me ye shall 
 have peace." " Services are unpleasant, when they are 
 either degrading in themselves, — when they are per- 
 formed to a worthless master, or when they do not yield 
 a sufficient recompense. But the services of the Chris- 
 tian are truly ennobling, — they are performed to Him 
 whom angels delight to worship, and they are re- 
 warded with the present riches of grace, and the eter- 
 nal riches of glory." "In keeping" the Lord's "com- 
 mandments, there is great reward;" "and His com- 
 mandments are not grievous." 
 
 In all the trials which an active discharge of duty 
 may involve, and in the aflflictive dispensations of Prov- 
 idence, there are opened to the believer sources of com- 
 fort and relief, which make even the path of sorrow 
 pleasant ; so that, with Moses, he would rather choose 
 afiiction, with the people of God, than the pleasures of 
 sin for a season. " God giveth him songs in the night." 
 
 Look for a moment at one or two of the Christian 
 graces, which shine brightly in the dark hour of sorrow. 
 Faith, — a simple and implicit trust in God, is life and 
 strength to the believer's soul. To render this faith 
 what it should be, — an active, living reality, — is the 
 
S84 
 
 great object of the Divine discipline. And it is from 
 the valley of tears, when the arm of flesh is broken, that 
 we look up to the God of all comfort and hope. It is 
 in the hour of our weakness, that faith lays hold of Om- 
 nipotence with a more vigorous grasp, and the soul 
 gains a new supply of God's strength and peace. "When 
 foiled in our conflict with the great Adversary, and sin 
 lies heavy on the heart, what a pleasure to turn to 
 the Lamb of God, and by a firm reliance on the Saviour, 
 renew again our covenant of peace. 
 
 Hope, too, shines brightest in affliction's night. She 
 has her very birth in the lap of sorrow ; and it is from 
 amidst the ruins of all earthly joy, that she soars upon 
 her strongest pinion, and takes her most distant flight. 
 The path of hope, is truly the path of pleasantness and 
 peace. Our sorrow is turned into joy, when, following 
 her bright footsteps, we can look beyond every earthly 
 trial, with a well grounded assurance of final and 
 everlasting rest. Indeed, the paths of religion are all 
 of them paths of pleasantnesss and peace. That which 
 to the eye of the thoughtless and irreligous, seems a 
 most unpromising feature in the road to heaven, is found, 
 by experience to be so graciously prepared by the Lord 
 of the way, that the pilgrims of Zion pass over it with 
 songs of rejoicing and praise. 
 
 Come then, dear Hearer, and make trial of His love. 
 taste and see that the Lord is gracious. Be persuaded 
 by the pains and disappointments of a life spent in lean- 
 ing on worldly hopes, and by the fears which you must 
 sometimes feel, that your present path is leading you to 
 darkness and despair. We would plead with yoa, by 
 the rules of all honest dealing with God and your own 
 
285 
 
 soul, that as you have made trial of the ways of sin and 
 folly, so you make trial too, of the ways of Wisdom, and 
 of Holiness. Without such a trial you are not compe- 
 tent to compare the two ; and will find yourself speech- 
 less, when standing before your righteous Judge. Shall 
 the great Deceiver of souls have all your confidence ? 
 Will you seek for experience and knowledge in no oth- 
 er paths, than those, in which he would guide you? 
 Let the time past of your life suffice to have wrought 
 his will, and tm'n yom' feet unto the testimonies of G-od, 
 and prove, for yourselves, what is that good, and accept- 
 able and perfect will of the Lord your Redeemer. The 
 King of Israel tried them both ; and his solemn testi- 
 mony is, that " Wisdom excelleth folly, as far as light ex- 
 celleth darkness." Such, we may confidently afiSrm, will 
 be your testimony, if you will but prove the faithfulness, 
 and the love of Christ. And when you have once en- 
 tered upon those pleasant and peaceful paths, you will 
 confess that the half was not told you. 
 
 25 
 
0a'mou 21. 
 
 THE ASCENSION OP CHEIST. 
 
 (ascension day.) 
 
 St. Lttke XXIV. 50, 51. — " And He led them out as far Bethany, 
 and He lifted up His hands and blessed them. And it came to pass 
 while He blessed them, He was parted from them, and carried up in- 
 to heaven." 
 
 The Ascension of our Lord to the right hand of the 
 Father, was, with one exception, the last event, visible 
 to man, which shall transpire in the great work of Re- 
 demption. Henceforth, He shall never again be mani- 
 fested to the world, tiU He shall come in the glory of 
 His Father, and of the Holy Angels, to judge both the 
 quick and dead. The transaction itself, is one of great 
 interest and importance, as we may learn from the fact, 
 that it is so circumstantially narrated by the Sacred Wri- 
 ters, and foretold by the Saviour Himself. The text 
 gives additional interest to the subject, by representing 
 Him, at the very moment of His Ascension, as perform- 
 ing one of His offices of love. He was taken from 
 them while in the act of blessing them. « And it came 
 
287 
 
 to pass, while He blessed them, He was parted from 
 them, and carried up into heaven." 
 
 I propose, in the first place, to draw your attention 
 to this striking circumstance in the narrative, and then 
 to mention some instructive lessons to be derived from 
 the event itself. 
 
 That Jesus should be parted from His disciples, 
 whilst words of blessing were on His lips, would seem 
 to be recorded as no common event, but one of peculiar 
 significance. " Having loved His own," — we are else- 
 where told, " He loved them unto the end." The Sa- 
 viour never lost sight of the great object for which He 
 descended from heaven. He came to bless, and to save. 
 This was the great purpose of His mission, and by His 
 .words of love, and deeds of mercy, amidst the scorn 
 and cruelty of the world. He sustained to the last, the 
 character of the sinner's Saviour and friend. At His 
 birth, — the Angel host celebrated His advent, with the 
 triumphant proclamation of " Peace on earth, — good will 
 to men." He opened His ministry by directing atten- 
 tion to that remarkable prophecy of Isaiah, — "The Spirit 
 of the Lord hath sent me to heal the broken hearted, — 
 to set at liberty them that are bruised." Amidst the 
 anguish of the Cross, He prayed for blessings upon His 
 murderers. His iirst address to His grief-stricken dis- 
 ciples, after rising from the dead, was a salutation of 
 Peace. And now that He is about to leave them, to 
 resume the glory which He had with the Father before 
 the world was. His affectionate regards foi- them seem 
 to be occupying His heart, more than thoughts of the 
 coming glory. We know, indeed, that the omniscient 
 mind of Christ was incapable of surprise or interrup- 
 
288 
 
 tion, in any of the steps in His great -work of love ; and 
 yet, regarded simply in its appearance, how much it 
 seems as though the impatience of the Heavenly host 
 tore Him away from an occupation, in which the soul of 
 the Redeemer was all absorbed. The fact we are now 
 contemplating, is full of interest for those who are seek- 
 ing some gpoimd, upon which to rest their confidence in 
 the Saviour's continued love. There is no interval left 
 for doubt. He ascends to Heaven upon a cloud of 
 blessings. The whole space between the kneeling pen- 
 itent, and the throne of our great Mediator, is thus 
 filled, as it were, with blessings. What an evidence, 
 that Jesus has carried the same loving heart with Him 
 to the right hand of the Father, and that He still looks 
 from the Throne of His glory, with an eye of tender „„ 
 compassion, upon all His faithful disciples. 
 
 The conviction of the Saviour's unchanging love ac- 
 quires new interest and strength, from the circumstances 
 of those upon whom He bestowed His parting blessing. 
 The eleven were there, — all except the traitor Judas, 
 who had gone to his own place. Every one of them 
 had reason to meet the Saviour with guilty fears, and 
 trembling doubts of His unaltered attachment. All had 
 forsaken Him and fled, when He fell into the hands of 
 foes, and was in the hour of His deepest anguish. They 
 left Him to bear His grief alone, when He most needed 
 the sympathy, and consolations, of chosen friends. Pe- 
 ter was there, — ^he, who with oaths and cursing, had 
 denied his Master. Oh how much need had they, of 
 the strongest renewed assurances of the Saviour's affec- 
 tion ! And He did not fail to give those assurances. 
 His last words, as He was parted from them, sealed 
 
289 
 
 their forgiveness. Such a parting assured them, that 
 all their past ingratitude, — the agonies of the Cross, — 
 and the humiliation of the grave, had failed to quench 
 that love which was stronger than death. The last re- 
 membrances of their injured Lord would be a balm to 
 their stricken hearts, and must have cheered them in the 
 arduous work of preaching Christ cruciiied to the world. 
 
 But let us proceed to some of the lessons to be de- 
 rived from the event itself. We shall find these in the 
 several purposes of the Saviour's Ascension. 
 
 1. The first that we shall notice is, — That He might 
 receive the reward of His sufferings, in that personal 
 glory and happiness, which awaited Him at the right 
 hand of the Father. 
 
 In contemplating the work of Redemption, we are 
 never to forget, that the sufferings of Jesus were real 
 sufferings ; that His condescension in becoming man,— 
 His painful life, and His death of exquisite agony,— 
 were not a mere pageant, intended to impose upon the 
 senses of the spectator,— but that Christ was very man, 
 as well as very God, — that He truly suffered, died, and 
 was buried. The Captain of our salvation was once a 
 man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief, far beyond 
 any thing that His followers shall be called to expe- 
 rience. Not only were the pangs of hunger, and the 
 thousand privations to which He submitted, as keenly 
 felt as any one of us can feel them, but the neglect of 
 friends, and the cruelty of those, for whom His tears 
 and His blood were shed, must have inflicted a wound 
 upon His heart, deep and painful, in proportion to the 
 superior sensibilities of His exalted nature. To pass 
 from all this, to the holiness and tranquillity of heaven, 
 
 25* 
 
290 
 
 must have formed no small _portion of the Redeemer's 
 happiness. It is true, His highest joy and satisfaction 
 will be, that He sees of the travail of His soul, in the 
 salvation of myriads of immortal beings, — ^in listening 
 to their everlasting song of thanksgiving, and witnessing 
 their joy. But there is doubtless a personal happiness, 
 independently of this, which the man Christ Jesus pos- 
 sesses, in being delivered from all that made His earth- 
 ly condition so painful and humiliating ; a happiness as 
 real and as exquisite, as were the anguish of the scourge, 
 and the tortures of the Cross. All this we can under- 
 stand, for our own natures are fully capable of such suf- 
 ferings. But who can conceive the untold joy of our 
 Lord, in having passed that mysterious agony, the 
 bloody sweat of the garden, — and the hidings of His 
 Father's face ? in exchanging the blasphemies of man, 
 and the temptations of devils, for the hosannas of angels 
 and glorified spirits ? 
 
 Are we not invited to such thoughts as these, by the 
 Saviour Himself? To what else could He refer, in that 
 gentle rebuke which He gave His disciples, — '-'If ye 
 loved Me, ye would rejoice because I said, I go to the 
 Father." The disciples were indulging a selfish desire 
 for the Saviour's continual presence. He tells them 
 that a true love for Him could lead them rather to re- 
 joice, that He was so soon to be with His Father. It 
 is indeed a thought which appeals to the heart of every 
 professed friend of Christ. Yes, — if we truly love 
 Him, we shall take pleasure in the reflection, that He 
 Himself is happy. If we loved Him as we ought, — ^it 
 would be an alleviation of our own sufferings here on 
 earth, — ^not only to know that we shall hereafter reign 
 
291 
 
 ■with Him, — but that He, who once suffered and died for 
 our Salvation, is now exalted to the bliss of heaven. It 
 should be, then, a subject of rejoicing with us, — that 
 " Jesus' agony is o'er." " Death shall have no more 
 dominion over Him." He has ascended, from the scene 
 of unparalelled suffering and shame, to unequalled hap- 
 piness and glory. 
 
 2. But again. Jesus has ascended into heaven, to 
 take possession of it, in behalf of His people, as their 
 Forerunner and Intercessor. 
 
 But little is said in Scripture on the point we have 
 just been discussing, — the personal happiness of the Ee- 
 deemer; only enough to give the lead to our thoughts, 
 and intimate to us our duty. But much is said with 
 reference to the benevolent purposes of His Ascension, 
 towards those for whom He laid down His life. He 
 has entered Heaven as the Forerunner of that countless 
 multitude, who, at the second coming of their Lord, shall 
 be redeemed from the power of the grave, and with 
 bodies made like unto His own glorious body, shall as- 
 cend to Heaven, to be with Him forever. As His resur- 
 rection from the dead was a pledge and illustration of 
 His people's resurrection, so is His Ascension into 
 Heaven, in the same body in which He was crucified 
 and buried, a pledge, that where their Lord is, there 
 shall they be also. St. Paul refers to this, when de- 
 scribing the character and extent of the Christian's 
 hope, — " as an anchor to the soul, — sure and steadfast, 
 and entering within the vail, whither Jesus, our Fore- 
 runner, has entered for us." The fact that Christ, in 
 His glorified human nature, is now actually in posses- 
 sion of Heaven, is here mentioned, as giving certainty 
 
292 
 
 and steadfastness to the believer's hope, that his own 
 glorified body shall be admitted to the same blessed 
 privilege. And how much we need all the confirmation 
 which Divine love and wisdom could give to such a hope 
 as this ! When we look at these dying bodies, — or, as 
 St. Paul terms them, " these vile bodies," aside from the 
 revealed piu-pose of God, we should be constrained to 
 leave them to the corruption and forgetfulness of the 
 grave. In contemplating our present condition,- — we 
 may well adopt the Psalmist's language of surprise, 
 " Lord, what is man, that Thou art mindful of him ? or 
 the son of man, that Thou visitest him ?" But when, 
 with the eye of faith, " we see Jesus, who was made a 
 little lower than the Angels, for the suffering of death, 
 crowned with glory and honor," we may look, with the 
 full assurance of believing hope, for our perfect con- 
 summation and bliss, both in body and soul, in Grod's 
 eternal glory. 
 
 That this may be om- blessed privilege, Jesus has 
 gone to heaven, to intercede for His people. He there 
 continues His gracious work, as the Eedeemer of men, — 
 ever mindful, even upon His Throne, of those whom He 
 has left to struggle with trial, temptation, and sin. 
 He ever liveth to intercede for us. — " I go," said the 
 Saviour to His sorrowing disciples, " I go to prepare a 
 place for you." How it is that the Saviour carries on 
 His Priestly Intercession in Heaven, we cannot knowf 
 the fact is all that is with any certainty revealed to us ; 
 and this is all-sufficient for our encouragement and com- 
 fort. " Christ — (the Apostle tells us) — ^being come, an 
 High Priest of good things to come, hath entered into 
 heaven, (the true Holy Place) not with the Mood of 
 
293 
 
 goats and calves, — ^but -with His own blood, — there to 
 appear in the presence of God for us." It is this con- 
 tinued work of love on the part of Christ in Heaven, 
 which sustains the believer in his " great fight of afflic- 
 tions." Subjected to a contest with the power of in- 
 dwelling corruption, — how encouraging the assurance, 
 that, " if any man sin, we have an Advocate with the 
 Father, — Jesus Christ the Righteous." Approaching 
 in the name of our Great High Priest, with a living 
 faith in His spotless Sacrifice for sin, we are shielded 
 by His prevailing intercessions for us, at the Throne of 
 the Divine glory. Compassed as we are with weak- 
 nesses, liable at every step to fall into mistakes, — our 
 very best achievements sadly marred by imperfection, — 
 how consoling to remember that we have not a High 
 Priest which cannot be touched with a feeling of our 
 infirmities." Unworthy as our best services are of God's 
 acceptance, yet, if sincerely offered in dependence upon 
 the intercession of Christ, our offering will never be 
 despised. And our prayers, — Oh how feeble and in- 
 effectual would they be, did not Jesus take them, and 
 present them in His own name, perfumed with the in- 
 cense of His own prevailing merits ! Such is the ofiice 
 which our ascended Lord fulfils for us in Heaven, — an 
 offlce which He will continue to fulfil, and which our 
 necessities will require, till He shall deliver up the 
 Kingdom to the Father, and God shall be all in all. 
 Oh let us never forget His presence before the Throne, 
 in any act of worship in which we engage, — a presence 
 so merciful, and so needful for us. And let it excite 
 our gratitude, that we have a Friend in heaven, ever 
 
294 
 
 mindful of our interests, even though the thousand cares 
 and duties of life, may often lead us to forget Him ! 
 
 3. Jesus ascended to the mediatorial Throne, that as 
 Bang of Saints, and the great Head of the Church, he 
 might preside over her interests, and dispense His gifts 
 and favors with a princely hand. 
 
 This royal power and prerogative of our ascended 
 Lord, was prophetically celebrated by the Psalmist in 
 the most animated language : " Thou hast ascended on 
 high, — Thou hast led captivity captive, — Thou hast re- 
 ceived gifts for men." "Lift up your heads, ye gates; 
 and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors, and the King of 
 glory shall come in. Who is this King of glory ? The 
 Lord, strong and mighty, the Lord mighty in battle. 
 Lift up your heads, ye gates ; even lift them up, ye 
 everlasting doors ; and the King of glory shall come in. 
 Who is the King of glory ? The Lord of Hosts, He is 
 the King ef glory." Such language is expressive of the 
 highest conceivable dignity. We here see Jesus, once 
 crowned with thorns, now crowned with Divine glory 
 and honor ; having " on His vesture, and on His thigh, a 
 name written, " King of Bangs, and Lord of Lords." It 
 was in anticipation of such power and glory, that He 
 said to His disciples, just before He ascended, " All 
 power is given unto Me in Heaven and Earth ; — Go ye, 
 and preach the gospel." Being thus exalted to be a 
 Prince and Saviour, Christ, as Head over all things to 
 His Church, dispenses to her all her powers and bless- 
 ings. She is the Church of Christ ; His, which He has 
 purchased with His own blood, — ^whose interests all lie 
 at His disposal, as her Poimder and King. Hence it is 
 in His own name, that He sends forth His first disci- 
 
295 
 
 pies to proclaim the glad tidings of salvation. " Go ye," 
 — " As my Father hath sent Me, even so send I you." 
 Apostles and Prophets, — Evangelists, Pastors, and 
 Teachers, are all enumerated by St. Paul, among the 
 gifts which Christ has bestowed upon His Church. 
 They are the messengers and the servants of the Lord 
 Jesus, — not self-constituted, but tracing up their autho- 
 rity to Him ,• in whose name they minister : not ven- 
 turing to take this honor unto themselves, but sent by 
 Him, who alone has the right to appoint the governors 
 in His Church, and has promised to be with them, even 
 unto the end of the world. 
 
 But the choicest of all the blessings that Christ be- 
 stows by virtue of His exaltation, is the Spirit of truth 
 and holiness, that Spirit by whose influences and teach- 
 ings alone, His ministers can effectually discharge their 
 office, and by whose living power, the whole Body of 
 His Church is animated and sanctified. "Unto every 
 one of us is given grace, according to the measure of the 
 gift of Christ." The Saviour Himself contemplated the 
 mission of the Holy Spirit, as the most conspicuous 
 among the benefits of His Ascension. "If I go not 
 away, the Comforter will not come unto you, but if I 
 depart, I will send him unto you." For this reason. He 
 is called the Spirit of Christ, — rthe Spirit that testifies 
 of Christ,— the Spirit who leads the sinner to Christ,— 
 by whose sacred power, the believer is rooted, and 
 built up, and made complete in CHRiST,T-.-by whom, the 
 whole Body of the Church is sanctified and cleansed, 
 that it may be presented to Christ, " a glorious Church, 
 -—-not having spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing, but 
 that it should be holy, and without blemish." 
 
296 
 
 This Supremacy of the Redeemer is complete and 
 unqualified. He is our King, and onr Law-giver, or He 
 could not be our Saviour. He is our Lord and our God. 
 Let us adore Him, as the Prince of Life, — the Fountain 
 of all grace, who, having the Keys of HeU and of Death, 
 controls the present and everlasting interests of each 
 individual member of His Church on Earth, and before 
 whose Throne of judgment every one of us must appear, 
 to give an account of the deeds done in the body. 
 
 Finally, Christ has ascended to Heaven, that He 
 might exhibit His conquests to other worlds, and receive 
 the universal homage of all His subjects. 
 
 The work of Redemption, though confined in its 
 achievement, tot his world, and having reference solely 
 to the salvation of man, was sufficiently extensive in its 
 character and results, to attract the attention of other 
 worlds than this. The victories of Cheist were over 
 the " powers of darkness," the spiritual enemies of God. 
 All holy beings felt an interest in the issue, — and so we 
 are assured, that the recovery of one sinner to God was 
 the occasion of joy among the Angels in Heaven. Can 
 we doubt, then, that the final conquest of the Redeemer, 
 and His Ascension to glory, were met by the Hallelujahs 
 of every loyal subject of Jehovah ? Heaven, we know, 
 resounded with His praises, and we have reason to be- 
 lieve, that the news and the spectacle of His triumphs, 
 were co-extensive with His boundless dominion. The 
 Scripture, upon this point, is sufficiently explicit. " The 
 chariots of God are twenty thousand, even thousands of 
 Angels : the Lord is among them, as in Sinai, in the 
 Holy place. Thou hast ascended on high ; thou hast led 
 captivity captive." St. Paul tells us, that Cheist " hav- 
 
297 
 
 ing spoiled principalities and powers, made a shew of 
 them openly, triumphing over them" by the Cross. The 
 Saviour is here represented as leading captive a rebel- 
 lious host, binding them to His Cross, as a conqueror 
 chains his captives to his chariot wheels, making a dis- 
 play of His conquests before rejoicing worlds. Such 
 universal homage is agreeable to the exalted dignity 
 with which Holy Scripture invests the Redeemer. 
 " Wherefore," saith the Apostle, " God hath highly ex- 
 alted Him, and given Him a name which is above every 
 name, that at the name of Jesus, every knee should 
 bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things 
 under the earth ; and that every tongue should confess 
 that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Fa- 
 ther." "By Him were all things created, that are in 
 Heaven, and that are in Earth; and He is before all 
 things, and by Him all things consist. And He is the 
 Head of the Body, the Church, — that in all things, He 
 might have the pre-eminence." 0, how little, in our 
 loftiest conceptions of what the Saviour suifered and 
 accomplished upon the Cross, do we realize its just im- 
 portance ! The believer can understand it, in a measure, 
 here ; but who can tell its unknown relations to other 
 worlds, — the new and astonishing exhibition which it has 
 revealed to them, of the love and wisdom of Almighty 
 God ! Unnumbered millions of beings, who never fell, 
 behold enough in the condescension of that great Suf- 
 ferer upon Calvary, to awaken the strains of exulting 
 joy. As He proceeds to take possession of His Media- 
 torial Crown and Throne, the song of triumph ascends 
 from every portion of His vast creation. And this, be- 
 cause, for man, there is a way provided, through the 
 
 26 
 
298 
 
 blood of Jesus, to escape from Hell, and secure the un- 
 utterable joys of Heaven. Oh, how shall we escape, if 
 we neglect so great salvation ? Behold, then. Brethren, 
 your Saviour and your God ! You have been with Him 
 in His temptations, you have followed Him to the Cross, 
 you have wept at His tomb, you have rejoiced at His 
 mighty resurrection, and to-day, you have been called to 
 contemplate His glorious ascension. Behold Him on 
 the Throne of His unrivalled glory ! "Whilst Angels 
 and Arch-aiigels, and all the company of Heaven, mag- 
 nify His glorious name, let not your soul forget to 
 praise Him. For jon He suffered, for you He died, for 
 you He ascended, and administers His power in Heaven. 
 He has gone to His Father and to your Father, to His 
 God and to your God. This is He that Kveth, and was 
 dead ; and behold. He is alive forever more, and hath 
 the keys of Hell and of Death. From the height of His 
 exaltation, He proclaims to each one of His disciples, — 
 "Be thou faithful unto death;" "To him that over- 
 cometh, will I grant to sit with Me in my Throne, even 
 as I also overcame, and am set down with my Father, 
 in His Throne." 
 
0£nnou 2S. 
 
 THE PRIVILEGE OF GOD'S CHILDREN. 
 
 1 John", hi. 2. — "Beloved, now are ive the sons of God; and it 
 doth not yet appear what we shall be, but toe know that ivhen He shall 
 appear, toe shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is." 
 
 " Grodliness is profitable" for the life that now is, as 
 well as for that which is to come. The believer's hap- 
 piness consists not altogether in the prospect of a future 
 and complete redemption : a foretaste is giren him of 
 the joys that await him, when his earthly pilgrimage 
 shall have closed. And though the things which God 
 hath prepared in the world of glory, are seen as through 
 a glass darkly, yet they may be discerned with sufficient 
 clearness to form the theme of an exulting joy. Salva- 
 tion begins on earth ; and amidst the changes and the 
 trials of our probation, not only are we sustained 
 and strengthened by the assurance, that the conflict will 
 end in a final triumph, but each day brings its victory, — 
 each trial its comfort. And thus, while we may say, 
 
300 
 
 with assured faith, like the Psalmist, " I shall behold Thy 
 face in righteousness," we may also, with him, realize a 
 presejit God, — a refuge in trouble, — a strength in weak- 
 ness. 
 
 Such seems to be the natm-e of the Apostle's reflec- 
 tions in the text. His mind is as much occupied by an 
 adoring sense of the believer's present privileges, as by 
 the contemplation of his futui-e destiny. In the pre- 
 ceding chapter, he treats at large of the e^-idences of a 
 true sonship : and having done that, he breaks forth 
 into expressions of grateful admiration. " Behold what 
 manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, that 
 we should be called the sons of God. * * * Be- 
 loved, now are we the sons of God, and it doth not yet 
 appear what we shall be : but we know that when He 
 shall appear, we shall be like Him ; for we shall see Him 
 as He is." 
 
 There is here presented to us. First, the believer's 
 present privilege, as the child of God. 
 
 Secondly, his imperfect knowledge of the glory that 
 is to be revealed in him. 
 
 Thirdly, the sufficiency of that which is with cer- 
 tainty revealed. 
 
 1. First, then, of the believer's present privilege, as 
 an adopted child of God. 
 
 The natural condition of man is that of entire es- 
 trangement from God. The fatal effects of the Fall 
 have spread universally over our race, so that all are 
 born into this world with a heart averse to His charac- 
 ter and will. And hence we read of a corresponding 
 change, which must be effected in man, before God and 
 himself can meet in harmony. '• Verily, verily, I say 
 
SOI 
 
 unto you, except a man be born again, he cannot see 
 the Kingdom of God." The same important truth was 
 proclaimed by those who were commissioned to teach in 
 the Saviour's name. "As many as received Him," Avrites 
 the beloved disciple, " to them gave He power to become 
 the sons of God, even to them that believe on His name ; 
 which were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, 
 nor of the will of man, but of God." "Being born again," 
 says St. Peter, "not of corruptible seed, but of incorrupti- 
 ble, by the word of God, which liveth and abideth forever." 
 Such, then, is the character of the believer's sonship, 
 or adoption into the family of God. It is effected by 
 the Holy Spirit, working such a change in his views and 
 affections, that God is regarded and loved, where once 
 He was neglected and disliked. _ It is effected through 
 faith in Jesus Christ, avIio is, in a peculiar sense, " the . 
 Son of God, the Only Begotten of the Father." By 
 faith, we are spiritually united to the Saviour, — become 
 one with Him, so that His Father becomes our Father, — 
 His God, our God. And the privileges which flow from 
 this spiritual relation are such as the unrenewed cannot 
 receive, being still dead in their, trespasses and sins. 
 The love of God, as a Father, is, in a peculiar manner-,, 
 extended to the Ohi'istian. Parental love is universally 
 regarded as the strongest and purest affection that can 
 dwell in the heart of fallen man. It is, therefore, fre- 
 quently employed by the Sacred Writers, in describing 
 the character and strength of God's love to His people ; 
 not, however, so much in the way of comparison, as of 
 contrast. " When my father and my mother forsake 
 me," says David, " then the Lord will take me up." 
 (' Can a woman forget her sucking-child, that she should 
 
 26* 
 
302 
 
 not have compassion upon the son of her womb ? Yea, 
 they may forget, yet will I not forget thee." By such 
 declarations as these, the believer is led to form some 
 faint conception of the pure and perfect love with which 
 he is regarded by his heavenly Father. Free from all 
 the imperfections of humanity, and exalted and regulated 
 by all the excellencies of the Divine nature, it is be- 
 stowed upon the obedient child of God, from the fulness 
 and the tenderness of a Father's heart. By virtue of a 
 spiritual union to Christ, we become sharers in the 
 affection which God cherishes and manifests towards 
 Him, who, from eternity, lay in His bosom. And who. 
 Brethren, can estimate the love which God the Father 
 bears to Cheist ? But if we be found in Christ, we be- 
 come the brethren of Him, who is the Son of God from 
 everlasting, — the spirtual offspring of God, by a new and 
 heavenly birth. And hence, the believer is said to re- 
 ceive not the spirit of bondage again to fear, but the 
 spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father; the 
 Spirit itself bearing witness with our spirit, that we are 
 the children of God. 
 
 In the confidence of this new and sacred relation, we 
 have boldness of access unto Him, before whom Angels 
 worship. A feeble and sinful worm of the dust is thus 
 exalted to a communion with the Lord Jehovah. As 
 His children, we are no longer repelled by the contem- 
 plation of His mighty power ; it is the power of our 
 Father, and is directed by boundless love. We no 
 longer shrink from the splendors of His spotless holi- 
 ness, for being made new creatures in Cheist Jesus, 
 " we all, with open face, beholding as in a glass, the 
 glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image, 
 
303 
 
 from glory to glory, as by the Spirit of the Lord." 
 Every attribute of God, and all the manifestations of 
 His character, become lines of attraction, and bonds of 
 union. God is not in the thoughts of the wicked, or, if 
 compelled to think of him, it is with fear and aversion, 
 and trembling apprehensions for the future. But when 
 every other thought is painful, God is the subject of the 
 believer's joyful contemplation. In all the changing con- 
 ditions of life, it is his privilege to draw near to the 
 Lord, and to stay his soul upon the God of his salvation. 
 Li the restlessness of his midnight watchings, he will 
 meditate, with David, upon God, and gain a serene 
 composure, unknown to the wicked, amidst all their 
 worldly comforts. In the retirement of the secret 
 chamber, God is there, to hold communion with His chil- 
 dren, to hear their prayer, and to manifest the tokens 
 of His love. And 0, " when days are dark, and friends 
 are few," when the channels of human sympathy seem to 
 be dried up, it is the privilege of the child of God, to 
 lift his eye to heaven, and be assured of the cliangeless 
 love of One, who will never leave him, nor forsake him. 
 Again ; — the child of God may count upon an Almighty 
 Protector. The desolations of the heart are not the 
 only afflictions which make this world a vale of tears. 
 Dangers surround us at every step, when we go out, and 
 when we come in, — when we lie down, and when we rise 
 up; we are utterly helpless in ourselves, and unpro- 
 vided with any strength or resources of our own, to de- 
 fend us against the thousand mischances of life. The 
 strongest and the most confident, — they, who in th« 
 hour of their pride, say, " Who is the Lord that we 
 should serve Him ?" have found, at times, their strength 
 
304 
 
 to be but weakness, and their courage, but the boasting 
 of fools. Man is naturally self-dependent. The lofty 
 spirit of youth, and the hardy ^-igor of manhood, lead 
 him to mock at difficulties and dangers, and to lean upon 
 his own right arm for security and success. But none 
 have passed through life, without being made to feel 
 that God alone is strong, and that in Jehovah alone is 
 everlasting strength. When His wrath is kindled but a 
 little. He turneth man to destruction, and we bring our 
 years to an end, as it were a tale that is told. Who is 
 sufficient to save him from the fiery bolt of heaven, when 
 the Lord shall commission it to smite ? Whose wisdom 
 or care can preserve him from the arrow that flicth by 
 day, or the pestilence that walketh in darkness, when 
 they come as the messengers of the Almighty, to laj- us 
 upon a bed of trembling, and of pain, and perhaps to call 
 us to the bar of judgment ? How many, in the moment 
 of conscious strength, have been brought, by some sud- 
 den calamity, to struggle with the king of terrors, — to 
 be torn from life, whilst their grasp upon the world was 
 yet strong, and but a moment before, their future seemed 
 full of hope and gladness ! The breaking of some slen- 
 der string of life, — some one of the slightest accidents 
 with which our life is crowded, may be sufficient to 
 bring down the lofty looks, and crush the might of the 
 strongest. And all these are the movements of the 
 finger of God. They happen alike, it is true, to the evil 
 and to the good. But there is this great difference, — 
 that while the thoughtless neglecter of God meets them 
 with a quaking spirit, the child of God can view them 
 with calmness, as the operations of His hand, upon whom 
 he leans for guidance and protection. God is his Father. 
 
305 
 
 He, wlio wields the powers of nature, — who rides upon 
 the whirlwind, and directs the storm, — without whom 
 not a sparrow falls to the ground, will provide for the 
 safety of His spiritual children. Kejoicing in the favor 
 of God, what is there that should agitate the believer 
 in Jesus ? "Would that every child of God could adopt 
 the confident language of David, — "Whoso dwelleth 
 under the defence of the Most High, shall abide under 
 the shadow of the Almighty. I will say unto the Lord, 
 Thou art my hope, and my strong hold, my God, in Thee 
 will I trust. Thou shalt defend me under Thy wings, 
 and I shall be safe under Thy feathers ; Thy faithfulness 
 and truth shall be my shield and buckler." 
 
 And as the child of God is not secured against the 
 accidents of life, so is he not exempt from passing 
 through the dark valley of the shadow of death. Per- 
 haps the lingering pains of disease must shatter his 
 earthly tenement, and he must feel all the anguish of a 
 dying hour. But he will be reposing in the arms of 
 everlasting love. God is with him. His rod and His 
 staff, they shall comfort him. He who felt all the ago- 
 nies of death for him, shall rob death of his sting, and 
 the grave of his victory. In this last peril which the 
 child of God shall encounter, what a privilege, in the 
 midst of suffering, — as the world is receding and disap- 
 pearing, and the gi'ave and eternity are advancing, — to 
 be able to look up to the great God, and say, " Our Fa- 
 ther, who art in Heaven !" 
 
 2. We were to notice, secondly, the believer's im- 
 perfect knowledge of the glory that shall be revealed 
 in him. "It doth not yet appear what " he "shall be." 
 
 St. John does not mean that the children of God are 
 
306 
 
 left in entire ignorance of their condition in a future 
 world. For he himself, in other portions of his -writings, 
 hath given us bright visions of the world to come. His 
 meaning obviously is, that God has not revealed, and 
 that it is impossible for us to know, the full measure 
 of that bliss, to which the Christian is an heir. The 
 things which God hath prepared for them that love Him, 
 are such as pass man's understanding. 
 
 To look into the future is a natural propensity of the 
 mind. Guilty fears combine with our immortal instincts, 
 to push om- inquiries beyond the grave, and penetrate 
 the secrets of an untrodden eternity. And God has 
 met these cravings of the soul, but with a wise and be- 
 nevolent restriction. He has communicated enough to 
 sustain and invigorate one's faith, and shed a settled 
 peace over the soul, in the gloomy hour of death ; and 
 enough has been revealed to make the impenitent fear 
 the darkness of the tomb, and the still darker terrors 
 of a miserable eternity. We know, that when we close 
 our eyes in death, om* condition is essentiallij iised for- 
 ever. Xo change for the better will ever relieve the 
 despair of the soul, which departs, um-econciled to God. 
 And the spirit of the believer, when released from the 
 conflicts of the flesh, shall pass to endless joys. For 
 weal or for woe, we shall have passed into eterniii/! 
 We know that the love of God which is shed abroad in 
 the heart of the believer even here, will there be freed 
 from all its hindrances and imperfections, and expand in- 
 to a piu-e and seraphic affection. We know that the joys 
 of sins forgiven, felt so imperfectly here, will there be 
 transporting, unmixed with a sigh, or a tear. Wc know 
 that faith will give place to sight, and that hope will be 
 
307 
 
 swallowed up in possession and enjoyment. We know 
 that all which we now see so dimly, will then be seen 
 in the Ml blaze of that unclouded light which G-od and 
 the Lamb shall pour upon the Redeemed. We know, 
 in a word, that every grace which is communicated to 
 the believer, is but the seed of a glorious harvest, to be 
 ripened and gathered in heaven. And all this, we 
 know, is to bo eternal. Forever and forever, will be in- 
 scribed upon all the treasures of the sanctified soul. 
 
 But still, we know not what we shall be. If we 
 reach that world of splendors, doubtless we shall be 
 ready to exclaim, that the half was not told us. And 
 how inadequate are the impressions which we receive 
 from what is revealed ! Who can tell what it is to 
 love G-od with a pure and perfect love ? Who can com- 
 pass the full meaning of that transporting joy, which 
 will animate a soul ransomed from the guilt and pollu- 
 tion of sin ? And who can send his thoughts over the . 
 boundless fields of Eternity, and gather the full import 
 of that solemn word ? In attempting to fathom these 
 " deep things of God," the soul is beaten back upon 
 her own domains, and we are compelled to confess 
 that such knowledge is too high for us, — that we cannot 
 attain imto it. But it is not in vain that we indulge in 
 such contemplations; for, though compelled to retire 
 under a sense of our ignorance and weakness, we can- 
 not but catch something of the spirit of heaven, by thus 
 drawing nigh, in thought, to its blessed employments. 
 And our failure to apprehend its glories entirely, is fit- 
 ted to teach us the practical lesson to be derived from 
 this portion of our subject. " Secret things belong un- 
 to the Lord our God, but the things which are revealed 
 
308 
 
 belong unto us, and to our children." Our immediate 
 business is not so much with an unknown futurity, as 
 with the truths and duties, which God has so clearly- 
 made known to us. Heaven has, indeed, been opened 
 to the Christian's contemplation. The soul, struggling 
 with sin, or affliction, finds one of the chief sources of 
 her comfort, in embracing the promises, — ^in pondering 
 her hopes beyond the grave. But our present and 
 main concern should be, the fulfilment of our Christian 
 obligations, in the daily walks of life. Such a fulfilment 
 is indispensable to our integrity as Christians, to our 
 inward peace, and to our advancement in the knowledge 
 of God. We know not what we shall be hereafter, but 
 we know what we should be here. The revelations of 
 God on this point are plain, and full, and satisfactory. 
 And from the obscurity which veils the secrets of the 
 upper sanctuary, we may justly infer that God would 
 have us give our attention principally to known and ad- 
 mitted truths, and to the active duties of the Christian 
 life. " If any man will do His will, he shall know of 
 the doctrine." And " what he knoweth not now, he shall 
 know hereafter." 
 
 3. We were to notice, Lastly, the sufficiency of that 
 which is revealed. We shall be like Christ ; for we 
 shall see Him as He is. 
 
 The doctrines and spirit of the Gospel have a direct 
 tendency to produce in the believer, a forgetfulness of 
 self, and an exaltation of the Redeemer. His highest 
 happiness consists in the glory of Christ, his Saviour. 
 The love of Christ is the mightiest, the purest, and most 
 abiding motive, that stimulates and sustains him in his 
 toils and sorrows. When his faith is tried to the utter- 
 
309 
 
 most, and it seems difficult to reconcile God's dealings 
 towards him with the possession of His favor, he re- 
 members with more than resignation, that, as a child of 
 God, he is predestinated to be conformed to the image 
 of His Son ; and looking at the sufferings of Christ, he 
 learns to glory in his own tribulations. And so, in 
 looking forward to a complete emancipation from the 
 bondage of sin, and in attempting to form noble concep- 
 tions of the joys yet to be, it is his " desire to depart, 
 and to be with Christ;" "to be absent from the body, 
 and to be present with the Lord." And in the consum- 
 mation of all things, when the work of redemption shall 
 be finished, and the Lord shall have counted up His 
 jewels, the new song of heaven will be an ascription of 
 praise unto Him, who hath redeemed sinners to God, 
 by His blood, out of every kindred, and nation, and 
 people, and tongue. It is to the glorious appearing ot 
 our Lord Jesus, to assume the reias of universal govern- 
 ment, and to be adored by all in heaven and earth, and 
 thus to see of the travail of His soul, and be satisfied, 
 that the believer looks, as th^ crowning of his hopes. 
 The declaration of the Apostle is in consistency with 
 this supreme attachment to the Redeemer. We know 
 not what we shall be, but we know that we shall be 
 like Christ. Here then, let our speculations rest. We 
 have reached the fountain, from whence flow all our 
 streams of joy. We shall indeed be happy, beyond all 
 that imagination can now reach : sorrow, and pain, and 
 tears will be unknown in that glorious world, toward 
 which the believer is travelling : a joy, transcending all 
 that ever entered the heart of man, will be his ia heaven. 
 But all this falls infinitely beneath the thought, that we 
 
 27 
 
310 
 
 shall be completely transformed into the image of tlie 
 spotless Saviour. He, who by His mighty power, shall 
 change these vile bodies, and make them like unto His 
 own glorious body, shall also clothe the soul of the be- 
 liever with the beauties of His own holiness. Nothing 
 but the word of inspiration could encourage us to as- 
 pire after such a destiny. To bear the image of the 
 man Christ Jesus, will be, indeed, a far more exceed- 
 ing and eternal weight of glory. Let us look, then? 
 more steadfastly to Jesus. An habitual contemplation of 
 our Lord will be the most effectual means of producing 
 a growing likeness to Him. Our vision is now imper- 
 fect ; but only the narrow stream of death divides us 
 from His presence. And when we drop this dying flesh, 
 and behold Him as He is, then the last stain of sin will 
 disappear from the glorified spirit. The sight of Christ, 
 to those who look and long for His appearing, will be 
 transforming. In view of such a change as this, who 
 would not say with the beloved disciple, — " Amen, even 
 so ; Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly I " 
 
Sermon 23. 
 
 THE POKTION OF THE SOUL. 
 
 (whit SUNDAY.) 
 
 Lam. III. 24. — ■' The Lord is my Portion, saith my soul; — there- 
 fore will I hope in Him." 
 
 These words of the prophet are the expressions of 
 a pious mind, under almost every species of bereave- 
 ment, manifesting its joy, in the possession of a never 
 failing portion in God. Jeremiah uttered his touching 
 " Lamentations," when Jerusalem, his beloved city, was 
 in ruins, and his people were suffering a most degrad- 
 ing captivity. The iirst impressions of this overwhelm- 
 ing calamity, appear to have been those of despon- 
 dency and distrust. When he surveyed the long 
 series of his varied griefs, he opens his mouth in seem- 
 ing complaints against God, as though his trouble was 
 greater than he could bear, exclaiming, " My strength 
 and my hope are perished from the Lord, remembering 
 mine affliction and my misery, the wormwood and the 
 
312 
 
 gall." But light seems suddenly to spring up amidst 
 this deep darkness. He remembers that it is not for 
 a living man to complain, a man for the punishment of 
 his sins ; — that it is of the Lord's mercies, and because 
 of His neyer failing compassions, that we are not utter- 
 ly consumed. Gratitude and hopeful confidence take 
 the place of murmurings and discontent, and his soul 
 mounts, at once, to the very fountain of the believer's 
 joys, and in exulting sti-ains he exclaims, " The Lord is 
 my portion, saith my soul ; therefore will I hope in Him." 
 There is a striking correspondence in the experience of 
 eminent believers, in all ages y — each one, not only ex- 
 hibiting the same general outline of religious character, 
 but all resembling each other in that which constitutes 
 the essence of religion ; all uniting in the ultimate ground 
 of believing hope and joy. To hope in God, — to look 
 for salvation from Him, — to love Him as the Being who 
 dispenses to us all our comforts, — these are points of 
 experience, not only common to believers of every grade 
 of piety, but they appeal for their reasonableness, even 
 to the judgments of those who live without God and 
 without hope in the world. But the sentiment of the 
 text points us to a higher attainment of holy faith than 
 any of these ; an attainment which some of God's peo- 
 ple do but faintly realize, and which the ungodly are 
 apt to stamp with the opprobious epithet of fanaticism,— - 
 I mean the enjoyment of God Himself — independently 
 of any of His inferior gifts. The soul of Jeremiah was 
 oppressed with almost every species of grief. Earthly 
 comfort was taken away from him. There was scarcely 
 a worldly enjoyment left, as the basis of gratitude and 
 love to God. And although at first, he seems to have 
 
313 
 
 been overwhelmed by such accumulated bereavements, 
 yet with the unextinguished energies of the Divine life 
 within him, he suddenly turns away from the impover- 
 ished channels of spiritual strength, and mounts, as on 
 eagles' wings, to the very throne and presence of Jeho- 
 vah. In His righteous providence, God had cut him ofl' 
 from every other refuge. The religious, as well as the 
 civil, privileges of the Jews were embraced in one com- 
 mon ruin. The Temple was desecrated by unhallowed 
 feet. The heathen had come up into the inheritance of 
 the Lord, so that the ordinary means of grace, and the 
 accustomed access to the mercy-seat, — the peculiar 
 privilege of the worshipper of the true God, — could no 
 longer be enjoyed by the pious Jew. " The ways of 
 Zion mourned, because none came to her solemn feasts, 
 and all her gates were desolate." 
 
 Yet the Prophet was made to feel, even in this ex- 
 tremity of the Divine chastisements, that God dwelleth 
 not in temples made with hands, nor is He confined in 
 His gracious visits to the soul, even to His own ap- 
 pointed ordinances. Though the heaven is His throne, 
 and the earth His footstool, yet He condescends to 
 dwell in every humble and contrite heart. The pecu- 
 liar language of Jeremiah, in claiming God Himself as 
 his Portion, was common, as we just now observed, to 
 all the eminent servants of God. The Psalms of David 
 abound with such expressions. " The Lord is the Por- 
 tion of mine inheritance and of my cup, — yea, I have a 
 goodly heritage." " Whom have I in heaven but Thee ?" 
 And the Prophet Habakkuk most beautifully expresses 
 the same thought, — "Although the fig tree shall not 
 blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines, — the labor 
 
314 
 
 of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no 
 meat, — the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and there 
 shall be no herd in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the 
 Lord, — I will joy in the God of my salvation." 
 
 We propose, in the remainder of this discourse, to 
 unfold to you the foundation of such language on the 
 part of God's people, and also, the nature and value of 
 their Portion. 
 
 And 1. We ai'e to consider the believer's warrant 
 for using the language of the prophet. What founda- 
 tion is there for it in the Word of God, and in the na- 
 ture of the believer's relations to his Creator and 
 Saviour ? 
 
 If we attentively examine those passages of Scripture 
 which mention the covenanted engagements of God with 
 His people, and the benefits which flow from those en- 
 gagements, we shall find some of them so peculiar, as 
 to throw great light upon the subject of which we are 
 treating. I will adduce a few of them, in illustration 
 of my meaning. St. Paul, in writing to, the Corinthians 
 with a view to restrain them from intermarrying with 
 the heathen, appeals to the terms in which God Him- 
 self describes His covenant connexion with them. " For; 
 ye are the temple of the Living God, — as God hath 
 said, I will dwell in them, and I will be their God, 
 and they shall be my people." And elsewhere, he re- 
 minds them, that their bodies are the temples of the 
 Holy Ghost. By virtue of this indwelling of God the 
 Spirit, the believer becomes partaker of the Divine na- 
 ture ; and being thus mystically united to the Lord, the 
 Apostle assures the Christians at Rome, that even 
 death, and the corruption of the grave, shall not separ- 
 
315 
 
 ate them from Him. "But if the Spirit of Him that 
 raised up Jesus from the dead dwell in you, He that 
 raised up Christ from the dead, shall also quicken your 
 mortal bodies, by His Spirit that dwelleth in you." 
 Agreeably with this statement of the union of the be- 
 liever to God by the indwelling of the Spirit, Christ is 
 said to be formed in us, the hope of glory ; and we are 
 described as being in Christ; hence the language of 
 St. John is full of meaning, when he says, " He that hath 
 the Son hath life, and he that hath not the Son of God 
 hath not life." "He that keepeth the commandments 
 of God," he elsewhere declares, " dwelleth in God, and 
 God in him." This spiritual intercommunion of the be- 
 liever with the Divine nature, is further taught, in the 
 most solemn and emphatic manner, by our Saviour Him- 
 self, — " Whoso eateth My flesh and drinketh My blood, 
 hath eternal life ; — for My flesh is meat indeed, and My 
 blood is drink indeed. He that eateth My flesh and 
 drinketh My blood, dwelleth in Me, and I in him." It 
 matters not, for our purpose, whether we consider these 
 words of Christ, as describing the result of a living 
 faith simply, or whether we connect this faith with the 
 worthy receiving of the emblems of His broken Body 
 and shed Blood, at the Sacramental Table. In either 
 case, we are taught that there is a mutual indwelling of 
 the believer in Christ, and of Christ in him, as real, 
 and as necessary to the creating and sustaining of spirit- 
 ual life, as our daily bread is to the sustaining of our 
 natural life. In harmony with these clear declarations 
 of our Lord, is the prayer of Invocation, in that solemn 
 Sacrament, in which we come to be fed with the spirit- 
 ual food of His Body and Blood ; — where we humbly 
 
316 
 
 beseech Almighty God, that we may worthily receive 
 the most precious Body and Blood of His Son Jesns 
 Christ, and be made one body with Him, that He may 
 dwell in us, and we in Him. And not to prolong these 
 quotations, they may most appropriately be closed by 
 referring you to those affecting words of Christ, in His 
 intercessory prayer to the Father, before entering upon 
 His last sufferings. " Holy Father, keep through Thine 
 own name, those whom Thou hast given Me, that they 
 may be one, as we are ; that they all may be one ; as 
 Thou, Father, art in Me, and I in Thee, that they also 
 may be one in us. I in them, and Thou in Me, that 
 they may be made perfect in one." It is not in vain, 
 I trust, that these passages from the Word of God have 
 been thus gTOuped together for your consideration, and 
 that they throw their focal light upon the Prophet's 
 words. They show us that a living, saving faith not 
 only secures for the believer obedience to the laws of 
 God, but that it joins him to Him, in a real union ; mak- 
 ing him one with Him, enabling him to dwell in Him, 
 and, after his measure, to partake of God's inexhausti- 
 ble fullness. And while rejoicing in hope of the glory 
 yet to be revealed in us, we may even now, in the won- 
 derful language of Inspiration, be made " partakers of 
 the Divine nature." God in us ! " of all His gifts. 
 Himself the crown." Our own emptiness and nothing- 
 ness are filled, as from the overflowings of an infi- 
 nite Fountain. Dwelling in Chkist, He dwells also in 
 us, strengthening us by His strength, moulding our char- 
 acters after His own image, by His blessed Spirit, till 
 we are " filled with all the fullness of God." In the 
 words of another, " The God whom the Christian wor- 
 
317 
 
 ships, is not a God afar oif, dwelling in the distant hea- 
 vens, and watching providentially over the lives and 
 fortunes of His people ; but the God of Abraham and 
 of Isaac and of Jacob, is a God of love and consolation, 
 filling the soul and the heart which He possesses, and 
 making it impossible for them to seek any other end 
 than Himself, — a God that causes the soul to feel, that 
 He is its only good, — that He is its only Rest." How 
 do such thoughts as these exalt the soul above every 
 earthly good, and lead her to God Himself as her chief 
 treasure, her only and all satisfying Portion. They 
 demonstrate, most satisfactorily, that a communion with 
 God, an enjoyment of Himself, is no reverie of a dis- 
 tempered imagination, but the highest and most sacred 
 aspiration of a soul, which has become the habitation of 
 the Spirit, and is guided by His unerring impulses. 
 Though but few of us, it is be feared, realize this privi- 
 lege as we ought, yet it is the privilege of all, to covet 
 and to obtain this best of heaven's gifts. It was the last 
 promise of the Saviour, just before He ascended from 
 the scenes of His sufferings to the throne of His glory ; 
 " I will pray the Father, and He shall give you another 
 Comforter, — even the Spirit of truth, whom the world 
 cannot receive, because it seeth Him not, neither know- 
 eth Him : but ye know Him, for He dwelleth with you, 
 and shall be in you." "When we realize in our hearts, 
 the fulfilment of this gracious promise, we shall sympa- 
 thize with David when he says, " As the hart panteth 
 after the water-brooks, so panteth my soul after Thee, 
 God ;" and, under the heaviest affliction, rejoicingly to 
 say with the Prophet, " The Lord is my Portion, saith 
 my soul." 
 
318 
 
 n. We are to show, in the second place, the nature 
 and value of the believer's Portion. 
 
 1st. It is a spiritual Portion, — a portion adapted to 
 the wants of the immortal soul. This is intimated in 
 the language of the text. The Lord is my Portion, 
 saith my soul. God confers all real and necessary 
 temporal good, upon those who trust in Him. Nothing 
 that will conduce to their real welfare will be withheld 
 by Him, upon whom they have cast their care. But the 
 greatest apparent earthly good can never be a portion 
 for the soul. Nothing of a material nature, or which 
 must be left on this side the grave, can satisfy man's 
 vast desires. But God is just such a Portion as is 
 suited to his spiritual capacities and needs. The soul 
 instinctively feels that the supreme good she seeks, ex- 
 ists not in the things which are about her. So lofty are 
 her aims, that she stops not at the heavens, nor at the 
 things above the heavens, nor at the angels, — ^nor at the 
 most perfect of created beings; they have not what 
 could satisfy her. She darts through imiversal creation, 
 and cannot pause, until she has reached the very Throne 
 of God. There the soul begins to find repose, and 
 grasps that real good, than which nothing is so worthy 
 of her love, and which cannot be taken from her without 
 her own consent. God meets every wish, and fiUs up 
 every void. The understanding is filled with light ; the 
 judgment is guided by eternal truth ; the affections are 
 supplied with an object, more than sufficient ; and the 
 conscience becomes pacified and calm, when purified by 
 the presence, and conscious approbation, of Him whose 
 favor is life, and whose loving kindness is better than 
 life. 
 
319. 
 
 2. Again ; — God is a present portion. He is a por- 
 tion for the soul now, in this present time, before she 
 has winged her flight to the endless enjoyment of her 
 heritage above. It is not upon hope, merely, that the 
 believer lives, and by which he is saved. The character 
 of that hope, the fulness of which is reserved for him in 
 heaven, receives all its complexion from the earnest of 
 his inheritance, which he already possesses. "Why does 
 the Christian hope to see G-od hereafter, and enjoy 
 him forever ? Why does he rise above every other 
 idea of future blessedness, and settle down upon 
 this, as the consummation of his largest desires? 
 It is because his soul has been made on Earth, 
 the dwelling place of G-od the Spirit; — and he has 
 learned, in his measure, to know eveti here, the na- 
 ture of that blessedness which awaits him beyond 
 the grave ; and to anticipate with a joyful assurance 
 the fullness of Him who filleth all in all. As God fed 
 the children of Israel with manna in the wilderness be- 
 fore they entered upon the full provisions of Canaan, so 
 now, does He give His people a foretaste of their future 
 complete enjoyment of Himself in Heaven, This is the 
 believer's refuge under all his trials. "When stripped 
 of every earthly good, he is not left to the simple hope 
 of a future recompense, but he can turn to God, his 
 present portion, and say with David, " Return unto thy 
 rest, my soul, for the Lord hath dealt bountifully with 
 thee." 
 
 3. God is a portion, of which the soul never grows 
 weary. How soon do those who have their portion in 
 the things of this life, throw them aside, as a child its 
 toys 1 Their glory is but as a fading flower, and their 
 
320 
 
 largest promises, even when fulfilled, are found to be 
 insufficient for the soul's satisfaction. The greatest 
 blessings God can give us, out of Himself, often lose 
 their relish, by uninterrupted possession, and we cease 
 to esteem them, even according to their real value. 
 The most interesting pursuits in life will ultimately pall 
 upon the taste. Variety forms the only relief of multi- 
 tudes ; — and how often do we meet with the melan- 
 choly spectacle of the aged worldling, having completed 
 the circle of frivolous amusements, and when he should 
 be thinking of the solemn concerns of Eternity, mingling 
 again in the scenes of youthful folly, in the vain attempt 
 to find in earthly things, that lasting pleasure which can 
 be found only in religion. But not so with the soul 
 where Christ has taken up His abode, and which has 
 become adorned with the graces of His Spirit. Though 
 all other things may lose their attractions, Christ can 
 never become uninteresting to the believer. Our de- 
 light in any coveted earthly enjoyment is uniformly 
 greatest at the first acquaintance ; when we come nearer 
 to it, and see more of it, and become familiar with it, 
 disgust and satiety send us away in search of new tri- 
 fles. But the longer you know Christ, and the nearer 
 you come to him, still more will you see of His glory. 
 Every fresh view of the Redeemer will fill the soul with 
 a fresh delight. Youth will find in this portion of the 
 soul, more than enough to occupy the most ardent im- 
 pulses. The matured energies of manhood will still find' 
 in the contemplation of the Redeemer's glories, and in 
 the rewards of His service, more than enough to meet 
 his growing conceptions, and his riper emotions of grati- 
 tude and love. And when old age begins to throw a 
 
321 
 
 shade over all things else, and earthly desire begins to 
 fail, still will Christ abide the same glorious object of 
 the soul's love and adoration." Oh I what an argument 
 is here, for seeding now, in the days of thy youth, this 
 portion of the soul, before the evil days draw nigh, or 
 the years, in the which thou shalt say, I have no pleasure 
 in them ! " Behold," says the Saviour, " I stand at the 
 door and knock ; if any man will open unto Me, I will 
 come in to him, and sup with him, and he with Me." 
 
 The point which we have just been considering, is 
 a fit introduction to the last view we shall take of the ■ 
 soul's portion; — it is an Eternal portion. We have 
 seen that the measure in which God vouchsafes to im- 
 impart Himself here to the believer is enough to satisfy 
 all his wants ; and that amidst all the vicissitudes of 
 life, and the capricious changes in our aims and affec- 
 tions, the soul never wearies of this all sufficient good. 
 To it will she cling with the ardor of a strong desire, 
 as she leaves her clay tabernacle, and ascends to her 
 native skies. And how cheering is the thought, that 
 death, which divides her from all else below, is but the 
 messenger of God, to call her to the full and everlasting 
 enjoyment of that which she has loved most on earth. 
 In heaven, God will be her everlasting portion. Our 
 assurance of this is based upon the known and essential 
 attributes of Jehovah. It is His prerogative alone, to 
 claim a necessary, eternal existence. Every thing else, 
 from the smallest atom, to the most exalted intelligence 
 in Heaven, owes its origin to His creative power, and is 
 dependent upon His sovereign will for every moment of 
 continued being. Gabriel himself is not necessarily im- 
 mortal, much less these heavens and this earth, the infe- 
 
322 
 
 rior productions of Almighty Powex'. " They shall perish, 
 but thou, Lord ! shalt endure : yea, all of them shall wax 
 old as a garment ; as a vesture shalt Thou change them, 
 and they shall be changed ; — ^but Thou art the same, and 
 Thy years shall have no end." Here, then, in the ne- 
 cessary unchanging existence of God, is the siu'e foun- 
 dation of the believer's everlasting hopes. The Eternal 
 God is his Refuge. He who alone hath immortality, the 
 blessed and only Potentate, the King of Kings and 
 Lord of Lords, will be to the ransomed spirit, a portion 
 unchanging and enduring as His own Eternity. how 
 secure, beyond all peradventure, are the interests of 
 those who are embraced within the everlasting arms ! 
 Heaven and Earth may pass away, — the principalities 
 and powers of the heavenly world may perish and be 
 forgotten; — ^but through endless ages of unspeakable 
 glory and joy, the believer in Jesus, saved by His blood, 
 and sanctified and glorified by His grace, will know no 
 fear of change or failure, in the protection and the love 
 of the Lord Almighty. 
 
 Such is the believer's portion ; — not of a favored few, 
 but of all, if they would but awake to the contempla- 
 tion of their blessed privilege, — if they would but rise 
 above all created good, all imperfect and perishable 
 things. It is for every child of God to say, " Thou Lord 
 art my portion — therefore will I hope in Thee." I will 
 hope, not for exemption from trouble, affliction, trial, or 
 temptations, — but for strength for the discharge of 
 every duty ; that in my weakness, the power of my Lord 
 may rest upon me. I will hope for comfort in every 
 trial, that whatever sorrows may oppress my heart, thy 
 comforts may refresh my soul. I will hope for deliver- 
 
323 
 
 ance from every enemy, — ^for light to guide me through 
 the dark valley of death, — for a blessed resurrection 
 from the dead, and an abundant entrance into thy King- 
 dom of Eternal glorv. 
 
0crmon 25. 
 
 THE PEECIOUSNESS OF CHRIST. 
 
 [T E I N I T T SUNDAY.] 
 
 1 Peter h. 7. — "Unto you tlierefore which believe, He is pre~ 
 cious." 
 
 Nothing can be more remarkable than the difference 
 in the impressions ^hich divine truths make upon the 
 minds of different individuals. This difference is, per- 
 liaps, more perceptible, in proportion as these truths 
 are more directly connected -with the person of our Be- 
 deemer. You seldom find one, whose feelings Tvill not 
 lie solemnized, when you bring vividly before him, the 
 certainty of death, of his own death, — and his entrance 
 upon an eternal and untried scene of being ; but tell 
 him of the love of Cheist, of His sufferings and death, 
 and of His interceding compassion, and the subject will 
 be listened to, in many instances, with an indifference, 
 which betokens either an entire ignorance, or a total 
 want of sensibility. There are others, however, whose 
 principal enjoyment it is, to dicell VY'On the character of 
 
325 
 
 their Redeemer. His Cross and Passion are subjects 
 of deep and absorbing interest. By them Cheist is es- 
 teemed as infinitely precious, the chief among ten thou- 
 sand, and the One altogether lovely. The only reason 
 to be assigned for this difference of feeling is, that the 
 one class do not really believe in the important truths 
 implied in the sufferings, and the mediation, of the Lord 
 Jesus. That the story of redeeming love may be dulj- 
 appreciated and felt, there are preliminary facts, involv- 
 ing views of our own condition and character, which 
 must be understood and realized. Until those facts ex- 
 ert their legitimate influence upon the mind, the Gospel 
 will awaken but comparatively little interest. The 
 unsanctified heart may, indeed, bo touched with emo- 
 tions of sympathy, or stirred to a natural indignation, 
 at the recital of cruelties inflicted upon the Saviour's 
 person. But this result might be produced by the wrongs 
 of any merely human sufferer. In the view of the be- 
 liever, there is something in the Cross of Christ, calcu- 
 lated to awaken something far beyond a mere sympathy- 
 There is something which endears the Saviour to him, 
 and renders Him, in the language of the Apostle pre- 
 eminently ''precious.'" It will be the object of this dis- 
 course to enumerate, and enlarge upon some of those 
 facts, already alluded to, which engage the faith of the 
 believer, and thus to elucidate the truth of our text, that 
 unto those only who believe, the Saviour is precious.. 
 
 1. The first fact which I would mention as engaging 
 the believer's faith, and tending to magnify the precious- 
 ness of Christ, is, that, as a sinner against God, his 
 only hope of escape from the Divine condemnation, is 
 in the atonement of this crucified Redeemer. 
 
 28* 
 
326 
 
 Until an individual has been led to Iiumble Mniself 
 before God, in penitence for sin, until lie has been led 
 to see, that if left to himself, his iniquities must be his 
 ruin, and that Cheist is the only hope of refuge from 
 the displeasure of an offended God, in vain will you 
 speak to him of the preciousness of a Saviour. The 
 great purpose for which the Redeemer submitted to 
 the ignominy of the Cross, was that He might save His 
 people /rom their sins. And it is in this character of 
 a Saviour from sin, that He must be regarded, before 
 He can be properly valued. It is in this character, that 
 He is embraced by every true believer, and becomes 
 the central point, around which all his affections, his 
 hopes, his joys will cluster evermore. The impenitent 
 sinner, in his own estimation, needs no Saviour. The 
 preaching of salvation, therefore, by the cross of Chhist, 
 if it ever attracts his attention, conveys but a mass of 
 perplexing and unsatisfactory thought. With this fact 
 in view, it can remain no longer a mystery, why the 
 preaching of the Gospel should be attended with such 
 different results in different individuals. Whilst the 
 understanding continues darkened, and the heart insen- 
 sible to its corruptions, how can it be expected that the 
 sinner should apprehend the real character of Christ, or 
 the nature of His salvation, — or depend upon the merits 
 of His sufferings and death ? The Spirit of God must 
 first awaken him from the slumbers of spiritual death. 
 He must first be brought to the anxious inquiry, " What 
 shall I do to be saved ? " before he can ever listen with 
 a becoming interest, or with any real, perception of its 
 worth, to the glad tidings of the Gospel. Every ob- 
 ject is valued, just in proportion as we perceive its 
 
327 
 
 adaptedness to accomplisli a desired purpose, — its fit- 
 ness to relieye our embarassments, and to meet our 
 necessities. This fitness of things eminently belongs to 
 the Gospel plan of salvation. It is a scheme of mercy, 
 expressly adapted to the wants of a perishing world. 
 Guilt, and impending ruin are pre-supposed by all the 
 invitations and the promises of the Gospel. And the 
 man who would presumptuously appropriate the bles- 
 sings of redemption, may turn the grace of God into 
 licentiousness, and make Christ the minister of sin, but 
 can never feel that glow of gratitude and love,-=-that 
 high-toned reasonable confidence in the Divine mercy, 
 which animates the bosom of a pardoned soul. To such, 
 however, as believe and feel that sin is exceeding sinful, 
 — that, as sinners, they must have a personal interest 
 in some method of pardon and sanctification, if they 
 would escape the "wrath to come, the preaching of a 
 crucified Saviour-, is as balm to the wounded spirit, yield- 
 ing a peculiar joy. This subject of redemption, — de- 
 liverance from the pollution, and the attendant misery, 
 of sin, is, and should be, the favorite theme of the be- 
 liever's meditation, for according as he has proper views 
 of the danger from which he has been delivered, will be 
 his attachment to Him, who has eifected this deliver- 
 ance ; and this is what we understand the Apostle to 
 mean, when he inculcates a growth in grace, and in the 
 knowledge of our Lord and Saviour. Not simply such 
 knowledge as may result from an intellectual examin- 
 ation of the grandeiu-, and the moral adaptedness, of 
 this plan of mercy, but rather an inward and daily in- 
 creasing, sense of our individual vileness in the sight of 
 God, — and our need of just such a Redeemer as He has 
 
328 
 
 provided for us. There is a height and depth, a length 
 and breadth, to the love of God in Christ, which we 
 can measure and appreciate, only by contrasting it w^ith 
 the height and the depth, the length and the breadth, of 
 our iniquities. 
 
 2. The second fact necessary to be realized, in order to 
 know the preciousness of Cheist, and which is realized 
 by every believer, is, that He is oiu- entire Saviour. He 
 is not merely an auxiliary in the work of our salvation, 
 but is the Author and the Finisher of our faith. This 
 doctrine is essentially necessary to the integrity of 
 God's plan of mercy, and must be recognized by the sin- 
 ner, before Christ can be received as He is oifered to 
 us in the Gospel. The soul is very loth to relinquish 
 all claim to a righteousness of its own. Many may be 
 found willing to receive the Saviom-'s merits as a com- 
 pensation for their own deficiencies, whilst they depend, 
 in part at least, upon their own obedience, as some 
 ground of justification in the sight of God. It is true, 
 the Christian is called to good works ; — they are the 
 natm-al result of the faith which justifies him ; but to 
 exalt them into a ground of justification, is a dishonor 
 to the Redeemer, who claims and deserves all the glory 
 of our salvation. This was an error which arose in the 
 Church at an early date, and which the great Apostle of 
 the Gentiles labored most assiduously to rebuke and to 
 correct. The Church at Galatia, after having professed 
 their faith in Christ, were soon induced, through the 
 influence of some legal zealots, to think the simple plan 
 of salvation through the merits of C&rist, an incomplete 
 one, and to attempt an amalgamation of the works of the 
 Law, with the grace of the Gospel. St. Paul, in address- 
 
329 
 
 ing them, earnestly contends for the purity of the faith, 
 which he had once delivered to them. " foolish Gala- 
 tians ! who hath bewitched you, that ye should not obey 
 the truth ? Are ye so foolish ? Having begun in the 
 Spirit, are ye made perfect by the flesh?" And after- 
 wards, he tells them, that as many of them as had been 
 baptized into Cheist, had "put on Christ," that is, had 
 clothed themselves with Him, as with a garment. Thus, 
 by a very significant mode of expression, he intimated 
 that Christ must be all in all to them ; a complete, and 
 an all-sufficient Saviour. A partial acquiescence in 
 God's scheme of mercy, is very far from the views of 
 one who has any just conception of the demerit of sin, 
 and of the extent to which the soul has become debased 
 through its influence. A proper sense of God's purity, 
 and of the imperfection which attends even the best 
 services of His sinful creatures, will never allow us to 
 be satisfied with a salvation, which abandons us to a 
 reliance, in any measure, upon a righteousness of our 
 own. The merits of the Saviour, — His ef&cacious atone- 
 ment for sin, will ever be pleaded as om' all-prevailing, 
 our only argument with a God, who cannot look upon 
 iniquity. The more the believer tests his character by 
 the standard of the Gospel, the more does he perceive 
 and feel the necessity of standing before God complete 
 IN Christ. When the sinner has thus been brought to 
 see his utter helplessness— that the holiness of God 
 demands a holiness in His creature, which Ae does not 
 possess, and that the disease of sin has spread its infec- 
 tious poison through his whole nature, so that from the 
 sole of the foot, even unto the head, there is no sound- 
 ness in him,— with what alacrity and triumphant joy 
 
330 
 
 will he flee for reflige to Him, who alone can shelter 
 him, and present him spotless before the throne of God. 
 There is another method, however, by which Christ 
 may be disregarded, as the only stronghold of the sin- 
 ner. And that is, when the Christian, acknowledging 
 his original indebtedness to the grace of his Eedeemer, 
 forgets his dependence upon that same Eedeemer for 
 guidance and sust^ance through every subsequent step 
 of his pilgrimage. It is not unfrequently the case, that 
 the condescension of Cheist, and our need of His Al- 
 mighty strength, are remembered by the believer too 
 exclusively ia connection with the period of his conver- 
 sion, to God. He sometimes appears to imagine, that^ 
 at that period, there was instilled into his soul a prin- 
 ciple of holiness, insuring his future advancement and 
 safety, independently of his Master's continued help. 
 A bitter experience, in such cases, is the only remedy 
 for this lingering unbelief and self-sufficiency of the hu- 
 man heart. This experience wiU teach him that his 
 feet must ever be iixed upon the Rock that is higher 
 than himself, — that he must lean upon the Almighty arm 
 of his Redeemer in prosecuting the conflict which is be- 
 fore him. Every lust that is subdued, — every spiritual 
 victory that is won, — every attainment in holiness, and 
 every renewed hope of glory, are to be ascribed to the 
 grace of the same crucified Saviour, who was the first 
 object of his faith and love. When Christ is thus re- 
 gai'ded as One, who is at all times, and under all cii"- 
 cumstances, indispensable to om- safety. He becomes 
 unspeakably precious. K the friend, who, by a timely 
 interposition, and by great and gi"atuitous sacrifices, 
 has rescued us from threatened destruction, is hailed 
 
331 
 
 with our prompt and grateful acknowledgments, and if 
 the mention of his name ever recalls the vivid recollec- 
 tion of his kindness, how will these emotions be in- 
 creased, if the danger which threatened us be one that 
 requires his constant interference, — ^if unceasing de- 
 mands must be made upon the bounty, the love, the for- 
 bearance, of this same preserver ! Yet such is the 
 exigency of the redeemed sinner, — Christ is the sole 
 medium through which he can venture to contemplate 
 his Maker. His most hallowed devotions need to be 
 purged from the stain of attendant sin and imperfection, 
 by the atoning and interceding efficacy of his Great 
 High Priest. Is it strange, then, brethren, that Christ 
 should be so much the object of the believer's precious 
 regard ? Is it not strange rather, that He is not more 
 esteemed and beloved ? Is it not strange that He, who 
 first sought us and plucked us as brands from the burn- 
 ing, — who still watches over us with untiring vigilance, — 
 who is faithful in the midst of our faithlesssness, — who 
 loads us with His blessings, and rebukes our forgetful- 
 ness and ingratitude, by the subduing influence of His 
 love, should be so little valued, and should receive so 
 small a share of the affections of His people ? 
 
 3. But another consideration why the Saviour is pre- 
 cious to the believer, and one which completely fills up 
 the measure of His worth, is, that " in Him dwells all 
 the fulness of the Godhead bodily." Our limits will not 
 allow us to enter into any extended argument for the 
 Divinity of the Saviour. We merely advert to the doc- 
 trine in connection with the language of the text, as one 
 which does, and must, constitute one article of the be- 
 liever's faith. It must be cordially received by him. 
 
332 
 
 before the Saviour can occupy that place in his affec- 
 tions to which the Scriptures so unequivocally commend 
 him. God, my Brethren, is a jealous God. He neither 
 asks, nor will He accept, a divided heart. " Thou shalt 
 love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all 
 thy soul, and with all thy mind," is His own uncompro- 
 mising demand ; and he whose musings upon Jesus' love 
 have kindled his feelings into a glow, — ^who has felt how 
 completely the Saviour engages every thought, and ex- 
 hausts every sensibility of the soul, can easily imagine 
 the perplexity of the believer, when called upon to dis- 
 tribute his affections between two Beings, each of whom 
 is so capable, and so worthy, of absorbing them all. If 
 Christ be not God, the Christian must be careful, lest 
 he love Him too much, — ^lest he bestow upon Him too 
 large a share of that heart which God has solicited as 
 a gift to Himself. But the Scriptures impose not a 
 single restriction of this nature ; no limit is there placed 
 to the love, the gratitude, the entire devotion with which 
 every soul, that knows any thing of the preciousness of 
 Christ, is disposed to regard him. All the precepts, 
 and commands, and warnings, of the Gospel upon the 
 subject, are rather calculated to guard the believer 
 against defrauding his Saviour of any portion of that 
 love, to which He is so justly entitled. The precise 
 point, then, to which we would call your attention, is 
 this — that Christ is an object which so completely fills 
 the spiritual vision of the believer, — the work which 
 He has accomplished for him, is one of so vast a magni- 
 tude, as to awaken and engross all the most powerful 
 affections of the soul. And if the Christian be not per- 
 mitted to regard his Redeemer as his God, npon whom 
 
333 
 
 alone lie is justified in bestowing these affections, there 
 must always be a most painful embarrassment in so re- 
 straining the emotions of his gratitude and love as to 
 give t'o the Saviour but a measurable proportion. In 
 other words, we must not love the Saviour as much as 
 the remembrance of His benefits would incline us to do. 
 Every one must see how harshly such a thought crosses 
 every hallowed sentiment, and every fondly cherished 
 feeling, of the Christian bosom. But we are not com- 
 pelled thus to chain down the sanctified affections of 
 the soul. On the contrary, it is our privilege to love 
 the Redeemer " with all our strength." In estimating 
 the worth of the Savioiu', it is our privilege to embrace, 
 so far as we can do it, " the fullness of Him who fiUeth 
 all in all." The grateful aspirations of a soul redeemed 
 by Christ from eternal woes, demand it. The sugges- 
 tions of a heart, whose every pulse, quickened by a 
 sense of the Eedeemer's love, beats only for him, de- 
 mand it ; and it is only when the spirit is permitted 
 thus to go forth in the unshackled freedom of her im- 
 pulses, and to know no bounds to the energy and extent 
 of these impulses, that we can even approxi'mate to the 
 measure of that love which the Redeemer claims. He 
 is our God incarnate. In Him we see the Only Begot- 
 ten of the Father, full of grace and truth. To those 
 only who believe and cherish a truth of such vast im- 
 portance as this, ca7i the Saviour really be ''precious." 
 The term which is here employed by the Apostle, is 
 one which upon any other supposition than that of our 
 Lord's Divinity, it were certainly dangerous to use. It 
 is one which implies such a devotedness of the whole 
 soul, that when connected with the sacred themes of 
 
334 
 
 eternity, poiats us at once to Him, whose we are, and 
 whom we serve. The doctrine, therefore, is one of un- 
 speakable importance to the happiness of the Christian. 
 What a satisfaction to know, that in studying the char- 
 acter of Christ, and in cultivating a communion with 
 Him, we may launch forth into a shoreless ocean of ad- 
 oration and love, — that around the object of our affec- 
 tions cluster all the glories of the Godhead, — and that 
 in seeking to speak His praises, and to measure His 
 worth, we may penetrate even to the throne of God 
 Himself, and with Angels, and Archangels ascribe bless- 
 ing, and honor, and glory and power, unto Him that sit- 
 Mh upon the throne, and to the Lamb forever ! What 
 a satisfaction to reflect that our God is our Saviour. In 
 the hour of temptation and adversity, — of spiritual dark- 
 ness and despondency, with what confidence may we 
 look unto Him, who is possessed of an Almighty 
 strength, and in whom are hid all the treasures of wis- 
 dom and of knowledge ! In a word, how dear to the 
 believer's heart must be a Saviour, who can address a sin- 
 ful, dying immortal, in such terms as these, — " Fear not. 
 I am Alpha and Omega — the beginning and the ending, 
 saith the Lord, which is, and which was, and which is to 
 come, — the Almighty; I am He that liveth and was 
 dead, and behold, I am alive forevermore, and have the 
 keys of hell and of death." 
 
 There are two observations of a practical nature, 
 which seem to arise naturally from this subject. 
 
 In the first place, — our subject addresses itself to 
 those, who have, as yet, discovered no attractions in the 
 Redeemer, — and who can listen, unmoved, to the story 
 of His sufferinss and death. 
 
335 
 
 " If our Gospel be hid, it is Md from those that arc 
 lost." How fearful a truth, for the impenitent to con- 
 template ! how fearful the peradventure, that the dark- 
 ness which now envelopes their spiritual vision, and con- 
 ceals from them the glories of the Saviour, may be but the 
 prelude of a more terrible darkness ! It was your sins, 
 my Hearer, that brought the Saviour from the Father's 
 bosom, that nailed Him to the Cross, and extorted His 
 cry of anguish. Has the fact never seemed strange, 
 even to yourself, that you could so frequently hear 
 of the sufferings, — the endurance, — the destitution, — 
 the buffetings, — the crucifixion, — the dying agonies of 
 Christ, and yet not feel a single pang in your own bo- 
 som, responsive to those of the Sufferer ? Has it never 
 occurred to you to enquire, why is this ? Why is it 
 that you can contemplate, unmoved, an event which 
 clothed the heavens in sackcloth, — which rent the solid 
 rocks, and startled even the dead from their slumbers ? 
 And whilst many, having by nature, hearts the same as 
 yours, are moved to tears at the recital, — rejoice in 
 Chpjst Jesus, and glory in nothing, so miich as in the 
 Cross of the Redeemer, — why is it, that to your \iew, 
 He hath no beauty, that you should desire Him ? The 
 only reason is, that you have been blind to the real na- 
 ture and cause of the Redeemer's sufferings. You have 
 never been led to see that it was for you He suffered, — 
 that it was your sins which called Him from the bosom 
 of the Father. Study this subject then, — not as one of 
 momentary interest, but as one, with which your eternal 
 destinies are inseparably bound up. Seek the enlight- 
 ening influences of His Spirit, that you may discover 
 
336 
 
 your need of this Almighty Deliverer, and how inesti- 
 mably precious are the glad tidings of a Saviour crucified. 
 But the believer, also, may find in this subject, much 
 that should awaken him to a careful self-examination. 
 There can be no safer test, perhaps, of the advancement 
 we have made in religion, than the estimation in which 
 we hold the Saviom*. There is no revealed truth which 
 should, or can, be disconnected from Him. And in pro- 
 portion as the mind expands, and our faculties are capa- 
 ble of grasping more and moi'e of the high destinies that 
 await us, our gratitude and attachment to the Redeem- 
 er should experience a corresponding growth. For it 
 is in Him, emphatically, that we live, and move, and 
 have our being. The tenure of our existence, and the 
 basis of all om- hopes, are to be found in the fact that, 
 as sinners, we are restored to the favor of God, and the 
 hopes of an endless life, by the sacrifice of the Son of 
 God. The light which first beamed upon our path, and 
 pointed us to the Cross of Christ, for pardon and ac- 
 ceptance with God, must increase more and more, unto 
 the perfect day. The price at which we valued the 
 Saviour, — yea, the eagerness with which we clung to 
 to Him, as our only security, was or should have been, 
 ia comparison with om- after experience, but the day of 
 small things with us. Every day is bringing us nearer 
 to the moment, when the scenes of Eternity shall be 
 disclosed, and we shall be brought into that Redeemer's 
 presence. In looking forward to that period, — the 
 blessedness of a personal communion with Him, of see- 
 ing Him as He is — and of knowing Him even as we are 
 known, forms the brightest prospect of the happiness of 
 Heaven. Is it not reasonable, then, that we should 
 
337 
 
 cultivate a nearness of access to Him here ? that we 
 should prepare for an intimate communion with Him in 
 Heaven, by striving to know more, and more, of the 
 preciousness of communion with Him on earth? For 
 this purpose, let us frequently make ihe fundamental 
 points of our faith, which have already been mentioned, 
 the subjects of our solemn meditation. Let us remem- 
 ber, that separated from Christ, we have no means of 
 approach unto God in this world, and must forever be 
 banished from His presence in another. Let us watch 
 over the lingering corruptions of our nature, and as we 
 feel our inability to contend againt them, let us cleave 
 the more closely to the Great Captain of our salvation. 
 By realizing, each day, our need of this Almighty 
 Victor, we shall be better enabled to know His worth,, 
 and to esteem Him as " precious," now, and to hail Him 
 as the source of all our joys hereafter. 
 
 39* 
 
Bttmon 23r. 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN SOLDIER* 
 
 2 Tim. ii. 3. — " Thou, therefore, endure hardness, as a good 
 soldier of Jesus Christ." 
 
 Such was the exhortation of the aged Paul to the 
 youthful Timothy. The veteran Apostle was himself 
 soon to enter upon his rest, and to receive the crown 
 of righteousness from the hands of that Master, whom 
 he had served with unwavering fidelity. His zeal for 
 the glory of that Master was not lessened by the weight 
 of his years, or the confinement of his dungeon ; nor is 
 he so much absorbed in a contemplation of the reward 
 to which he was hastening, as to lose sight of the Sa- 
 viour's interests here upon earth. His second Epistle 
 to Timothy was written but shortly before he suffered 
 martyrdom for Christ ; and his last efforts in behalf of 
 the Eedeemer's Church, were made, in fully equipping 
 Timothy, his beloved son in the Lord, for the conflict 
 which he himself had so well sustained. The sentiment 
 
 *Tlie last sermon preached by Mr. Penny. See p. 17. 
 
339 
 
 of the text derives additional interest from this circum- 
 stance. Timothy was exhorted to " endure hardness" 
 in the service of Christ, by one who had had a large 
 and varied experience in that service. It was not the 
 enthusiastic utterance of a youthful mind, looking upon 
 the future through the deceptive medium of a glowing 
 fancy, — despising difficulties, of which, as yet, he knew 
 nothing, and beguiling his followers by false statements, 
 or exaggerated views, of the work to be performed. 
 Nor was it the language of one, disposed to make an 
 evil report of the cause, in which his life had been main- 
 ly spent. All its hardships he A;Mew. He had /eZi them, 
 in all their forms. Yet his spirit was unbroken ; he 
 loved the service still. It had been to him " a good fight." 
 He would willingly have recommenced it, instead of de- 
 parting to be with Cheist. Such advice, therefore, 
 came with admirable propriety from such a source, Paul 
 the aged, rich in experience, rich in boundless love to 
 the Saviour. 
 
 It is worthy of note, that throughout these Epistles, 
 St. Paul confines Timothy's attention entirely to his du- 
 ties and their difficulties. He does not throw out a 
 single encouragement derived from promises of repose 
 or enjoyment. Once, and once only, does he glance at 
 such a topic ; but it is, when, in the full assurance of 
 faith, he looks away- from this scene of conflict, and in 
 the confidence of Christiaa hope, speaks of his own rest 
 in Heaven. 
 
 The text is very fruitful in instruction to us all, my 
 Hearers ; for though addressed, 'originally, to an Apos- 
 tle, — a Leader of the Chi'istian host, it has its applies 
 tion to every one who has enlisted under thq banner of 
 
340 
 
 Christ. We are all the soldiers of Jesus, and have a 
 warfare to accomplish. Let us then look, for a few 
 moments, at some of the qualities of a good soldier. 
 
 And 1. A good soldier will never enter upon the ser- 
 vice, with false views of its nature, and the difficulties 
 which it involves. He will never commence a career, 
 the main features of which, are industry, fatigue, ex- 
 posure to perils and death, whilst his fancy is indulging 
 romantic notions of a soft and easy life, or in prema- 
 ture thoughts of victory and glory. We have heard of 
 such in the woi'ld's history, — of youthful adventurers, 
 captivated by some dazzling enterprise, or impelled by 
 the ardor o£ an uncalculating ambition, who have put 
 on the soldier's armor, but whose dreams have all been 
 dispelled by unexpected hardships, and their zeal 
 quenched in the early struggles of the contest. These 
 are the types of too many among the professed soldiers 
 of the Cross. They do not sufficiently lay their account 
 with sufferings, and privations, in the cause of Christ. 
 The victory, — the glory and the crown, — the pleasures 
 of a religious life, and the joys of salvation, are placed 
 in the fore-front of their expectations, and are the earli- 
 est, and almost the only, objects of their regard. And 
 hence it is, that so many either desert the service, or 
 become comparatively inefficient, — the victims of dis- 
 couragement and doubt, or what is worse, they fall back 
 upon some plan of their own, — some standard of Chris- 
 tian duty, very far below that enjoined in the Bible, 
 and involving but little sacrifice for Christ. These are 
 they who are at ease in Zion, and upon whom the word of 
 God has solemnly pronounced a woe. Such fearful re- 
 sults are far from being simply a misfortune. The good 
 
341 
 
 soldier of Jesus Christ will find no difficulty in guard- 
 ing against them by a wise forecast ; for the Captain of 
 our salvation has mercifully furnished us with ample 
 warning and instruction. In no particular, is the Sa- 
 viour's care and love more manifest, than in this. He 
 would not deceive us, nor suffer us to deceive ourselves. 
 In His invitations, He does not exhibit Himself in the 
 garb of worldly pomp and power, — but stands before 
 us in the attitude of a Sufferer, — a man of sorrows. 
 He plainly tells us, that if we would be His disciples, 
 we must deny ourselves, take up our Cross, and follow 
 Him. He anticipates the mistaken eagerness of the 
 thoughtless and impulsive ; He arrests them upon the 
 very threshold of their undertaking, by words which no 
 impostor would utter, — checking them with caiitions 
 which might repel the self-deceived, — but which the do- 
 cile and the sincere, would thankfully receive and use, 
 as beacon-lights, to guard them against the dangers of 
 their way. " Count the cost," — calculate well your re- 
 sources, — tribulations await you ; such, in substance, are 
 the terms which the Saviour distinctly announces, in the 
 very outset of the struggle. The good soldier will heed 
 them. He will enter upon the contest, expecting their 
 fulfilment. He will not sink back in disappointment, 
 as though some strange thing had happened unto him, 
 but will stand ever on the watch, girding himself 
 with strength for the combat. I may be addressing 
 some one or more, who are contemplating the Saviour's 
 service, — who have resolved to declare themselves on 
 the Lord's side, and cast in their lot with His people. 
 To such I would say in the language of Moses, " Come 
 thou with us, and w^ will do thee good, for the Lord 
 
342 
 
 hath spoken good concerning Israel." The paths of re- 
 ligion are paths of pleasantness and peace. Come and 
 unite yoiu'selyes to the Lord in an everlasting covenant 
 of faitlifulness and love, and you shall find rest to your 
 souls. A crown of glory, and eternal life, shall be 
 yours. These promises are all full of meaning and truth ; 
 they are yea and amen in Christ Jesus. But make not 
 the fatal mistake of supposing that such a glorious har- 
 vest is to be reaped without previous toil. The truest 
 pleasiu-es of religion will be found in the very sacrifices 
 whicli you make for Christ. The darkest hour will be 
 illumined with the certainty of final triumph. As a 
 good soldier of Christ, put on the whole armor of God, 
 meet manfully every foe, — endure patiently every hard- 
 ship. Expect them with certainty, and without fear ; 
 for thus only will you receive strength to be made more 
 than conquerors. 
 
 2. A good soldier abandons himself, for the term of 
 his enlistment, to the will of his Commander, and to 
 the cause for which he fights. 
 
 This abandonment is entire. There is no tie too sa- 
 cred to be sundered, — there is no object too dear to be 
 relinquished, — there is no interest, of whatever kind, 
 that is not made subordinate to the great purpose 
 which he has in view. The annals of this world's unholy 
 warfare, furnish innumerable illustrations of such self- 
 devotion. The summons to the battle-field separates 
 the husband from the wife of his bosom, and the father 
 from the child of his affections. Every endearment of 
 home, — every fond attachment, — all the comforts and 
 enjoyments which make life desirable or happy, are prac- 
 tically forgotten and surrendered, for the absorbing oc- 
 
343 
 
 cupations of the camp or the field. This is the very 
 thought upon which the Apostolic injunction appears to 
 he based. '•' No man,'' ho says, "that warreth, entangleth 
 himself with the affairs of this life, that he may please 
 him who hath chosen him to be a soldier." Every one 
 has doubtless read heart-rending descriptions of such 
 scenes ; and you must have noticed, that the men who 
 made these sacrifices, were not compelled to do it by 
 the brute force of tyranny, but that whilst the tenderest 
 and purest emotions made them linger among those they 
 loved, they, nevertheless, yielded to commanding convic- 
 tions of duty, — to a sense of obligation, a higher and holi- 
 er love than that which would detain them at the hearth- 
 stone. At the call of their country, or in the defence of 
 principles upon which depend the safety of society and 
 all just government, private and individual interests have 
 been made to yield to broader and more catholic claims. 
 We feel that this is right. There is something in the 
 process, which does violence to some of the finest sensi- 
 bilities, and well nigh breaks the heart; but still we feel 
 that it is right. And all honor is justly accorded to the 
 men who have thus nobly renounced their choicest trea- 
 sures for the public good. The Christian soldier is not 
 unfrequently called to perform duties of a similar kind. 
 So abandonment of every-thing for Cheist, and for the 
 interests of His Kingdom, is one of the prime requisites 
 of a good soldier of the Cross. Stern as the require- 
 ment may seem, yet it is indeed a gracious necessity. 
 Earthly affections often assume a form so sacred, that 
 unless we had the sanction, and express command of 
 Christ, the best of his followers would be in danger 
 of suffering it to interfere with their allegiance to Him. 
 
344 
 
 Earthly interest so often and so forcibly presents her 
 claims, — to sacrifice it seems so sure to bring distress 
 and beggary and ruin, that without the same command to 
 awaken iis to juster views, to quicken our confidence and 
 love for the Captain of our Salvation, we should be in dan- 
 ger of exchanging our hopes of Heaven for the perish- 
 able things of this world. It is here that the Christian fre- 
 quently finds his most perplexing and painful difficulties. 
 Yet, where the mistaken affections of friends, or the silent 
 pleadings of our own hearts, comes evidently in collision 
 with the requirements of Christ and His gospel, the 
 good soldier of Jesus, though it be with a bleeding heart, 
 will bring his precious offering, and place it upon the Al- 
 tar of Divine love. The demand is made by One who is 
 far from insensible_ to the suflferings this may cost us. 
 He well knows and marks each pulse of the struggling 
 spirit. He knows that it is not easy, — that it is one of 
 the heaviest trials of Christian fidelity, in many instan- 
 ces, impossible to human weakness, without the power 
 of His all-conquering grace. The difficulty is distinctly 
 recognised in the Apostle's exhortation, " Endure" this 
 " hardness." It is the language of the deepest love, — 
 not of unsympathising severity. It is necessary, that 
 you may have freedom and strength to fight the battles 
 of your Lord. The good soldier of Christ must be an- 
 imated supremely by one controlling passion,, — a desire 
 that the Saviour may be glorified, though it be at the 
 expense of all on earth, that he values. He remembers 
 the solemn question of his Master, — " what shall it profit 
 a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his 
 own soul ?" He remembers, too, the gracious promise, 
 that his patient endurance shall not be without its abund- 
 
345 
 
 ant recompense, when the ■warfare is accomplished. For 
 " eyery one," says Christ, " that hath forsaken houses, 
 or brethren, or sisters, or father or mother, or wife or 
 children, or lands, for My name's sake, shall receive an 
 hundi'cd fold, and shall inherit evei*lasting life." 
 
 3. A good soldier will fight his battles with scrupulous 
 regard to the orders and directions of his Captain. 
 
 The strictness of military discipline is, in no point, 
 more conspicuous than in this. A fancied superior intel- 
 ligence on the part of the private soldier, or subordinate 
 officer, — a greater knowledge of affair's, — and even such 
 an unexpected state of things as would seem to demand 
 a departure from instructions, would not shield the of- 
 fender from the displeasure and punishment of his com- 
 mander. This strictness is necessary ; for, without it, 
 the best framed enterprises would freqently issue in 
 confusion and failure. An active mind might quarrel 
 with the wisdom of the plan adopted for the war ; an 
 obtuse one might fail to penetrate its meaning, or trace 
 its results ; — implicit obedience might expose the good 
 soldier to certain death, or a deviation from the line 
 of conduct enjoined, might lead to some dazzUng but tran- 
 sient advantage ; yet neither these, nor any other reasons, 
 would be deemed sufficient to justify a breach of orders. 
 The analogy holds good for the soldier of the Cross. 
 Many otherwise good soldiers, impair their real effi- 
 ciency, and some are in no small danger of losing their 
 share in the Eedeemer's triumphs, by indulging a spirit 
 of self-suf&ciency, — by forgetting, that in every effort 
 which they make for Christ, his instructions are to be 
 followed, and not their own wisdom, nor even their own 
 good impulses. Here again, the Apostle's own words will 
 
 30 
 
346 
 
 ,sarc us from the charge of speaking carelessly, or from 
 fancied resemblances, — " And if a man also strive for 
 masteries,' he says, " yet is he not crowned, except he 
 strive lawfaUy." Xow there are not only Divine laws 
 ■which every soldier of Christ is bound to obey, — ^not 
 only precepts, which have obviously to do -with moral 
 culture, and which the moral sense of every man will 
 lead him to own as just and true, — but there are vari- 
 ous enactments, for the use and propriety of which, we 
 must make our appeal solely to the wisdom and author- 
 ity of God. Our Lord has instituted His Church, withits 
 Ministry and ileans of grace and salvation. Its sacra- 
 ments are of His own ordainment, for the niu-ture of the 
 soul in the Divine life. His Word of truth is read and 
 preached, and is, or should be, in the hands of every 
 soldier ; yet how many are relying upon weapons, and a 
 strength, which have but little to do with these merciful 
 supplies of our Heavenly Leader. •'• The express words 
 of our Saviour Christ" were, '' Except a man be born of 
 water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the king- 
 dom of God ;" and yet multitudes, in the face of this, and 
 other declarations of the Bible, think they can serve 
 Christ as well, and get to Heaven with the same cer- 
 tainty, though they wilfully neglect the Sacrament ef 
 Baptism, and refuse to enrol themselves among the mem- 
 bers of His Church. The only reason they assign is, — 
 they see iio use in it. They profess to believe in the 
 Saviour, — and they trust in Him for salvation. But how 
 poor an evidence do they give of their real regard for 
 Him, and how feebly, — ^how very feebly, they fight for 
 Him. Nor is this strange. For the strength, and the 
 courage, of the soldier is immeasurably increased by 
 
347 
 
 associating with his comrades, — by sharing their fatigues, 
 and by fighting at their side. The spirit of the whole 
 body is infused into his soul — a temporary defeat will 
 be borne with less discouragement, and the joys of suc- 
 cess will be felt tenfold, by joining with them in the 
 shouts of victory. It is not strange then that those to 
 whom we have been referring, should not be good sol- 
 diers of Jesus Christ. 
 
 Others again, though fully enlisted under the banner 
 of Christ, find it difficult to- obey orders. The march 
 is either too slow, or the battle is not pressed with suffi- 
 cient force, or the whole plan is somewhat defective. 
 Individual impulses are taken for their guide, instead of 
 patiently waiting upon Christ. A restless activity un- 
 fits them for working in harmony with the Divinely insti- 
 tuted means, and soon we find them the leaders of self- 
 constituted hosts, calling their followers after their own 
 names, — enduring for awhile, — but often, too often, sub- 
 stituting their own views, and plans, and designs, for the 
 great object of the Redeemer's Chm-ch. It is not thus 
 with the good soldier of Jesus Christ. He, also, will 
 find no small difficulty in subjecting his will entirely to 
 the will of his Master, and watching for the indications 
 of that will, in every way in which it may be manifested. 
 Impatient zeal will indeed find it hai'd, among the very 
 hardest of the Divine requirements, to be still, and see 
 tbe salvation of God. Yet obedience is better than all 
 whole burnt- oiferings and sacrifices. There will be 
 seasons, when God may seem to have forgotten to be 
 gracious to His Vineyard. But, 0, how much better, in 
 faith and prayer, to supplicate the Lord of the harvest, 
 that He would send down the showers of Divine grace ; 
 
348 
 
 that He would make bare His arm, and in His own 
 good time, go before His people to victory and renown. 
 
 4. A good soldier considers himself bound to the 
 service, till the great object for which he contends, is 
 gained. 
 
 In all armies, there is a wide difference in the char- 
 acter of those who compose them. Some are mere hire- 
 lings, fighting for a pecuniary reward. Some have no 
 interest in the important piu-poses for which the war is 
 waged, nor any sympathy .vnth the views and plans of 
 their commander. War is their trade, — a mere business 
 or profession. It would take but little to seduce them 
 from the ranks, or from the service altogether ; or, if 
 they continue the contest, it is to discharge the cold 
 routine of their duties. Such is the formal professor, 
 and the half-hearted Christian, whose whole life is a 
 round of irksome duty; but who seldom, if ever, feels 
 the constraining love of the Saviom-. There are others, 
 however, who have enlisted with more intelligent and 
 more elevated motives. They fiilly understand the ob- 
 jects of the war. They understand the anxieties and 
 wishes of their Leader, and have a large sympathy with 
 Him, and are ready not only to give Him all their time 
 and strength, but to lay down their lives also, in behalf 
 of the Cause, which He has at heart. They are held by 
 no reward, but the pleasvire of seeing, the war happily 
 concluded ; and to accomplish this, their whole life, if 
 necessary, is freely and heartily devoted to the service. 
 Such is the character of a good soldier of Jesus Christ. 
 He is not a cold or lukewarm professor, but one whose 
 heart is with the Saviour, — who loves Him, — who loves 
 His cause, who understands and sympathises with the 
 
349 
 
 claims, which Christ has upon the love and obedience 
 of all mankind. He will hold frequent inteixourse with 
 his Leader, — will commune with Him on the great 
 concerns of the conflict, and his wearied spirit will re- 
 ceive comfort and refreshment from the counsels and 
 encouragement of his Lord and Master. He sees that 
 the great end of the Christian warfare is to reclaim a 
 fallen world to its allegiance, and that this warfare will 
 never close till " the judgment shall sit." Such an en- 
 terprise as this, demands the service of his life. His 
 enlistment, therefore, is for life. He sees no resting 
 spot on this side the grave, where he can lay aside his 
 armor, or cease his watchful exertions. His whole 
 march to the tomb is beleaguered by foes. And eternity 
 — eternity alone, with its glorious rewards, presents to 
 him the promise of repose and triumph. A vigorous 
 faith will lead him to contemplate his everlasting rest, 
 to send his thoughts beyond the grave, and nerve him- 
 self to renewed exertions, by anticipations of the song • 
 of victory. This, then, will be one great and striking 
 characteristic of the " good soldier of Jesus Christ," 
 that his mind will grasp the full extent and meaning of 
 his conflict. All the changes, and trials, and disap- 
 pointments of time, will never lead him to waver in his 
 fidelity, and confidence, and love. Eternity, with its 
 everlasting issues, explains to him all these. There, he 
 sees every thing adjusted. Every affliction will be 
 deemed light, whilst he looks, not at the things which 
 are seen and temporal, but at the things which are un- 
 seen and eternal. what an energy would it give to 
 every emotion, and every act for Christ, could we uni- 
 formly sustain this all-embracing view of the nature and 
 
 30* 
 
350 
 
 magnitude of our work ! How short would this little 
 moment of conflict seem, how unimportant and trifling 
 its hardships, could we steadfastly keep in view the 
 glory which shaU be revealed ! Look, then, beyond the 
 grave, for your comforts and your encouragements ; — 
 "fight the good fight oi faith;" "lay hold on Eternal 
 life ;" " though you be cast down, you shall not be de- 
 stroyed." " ManfuUy fight, then, under the banner of 
 Christ, against sin, the world, and the Devil, and con- 
 tinue His faithful soldier and servant unto your life's 
 end." 
 
0£rmon 26, 
 
 LESSONS FEOM THE EXPERIENCE OP DANIEL* 
 
 Daniel vi. 16. — " Then the King commanded, and they brought 
 Daniel-, and cast Mm into the den of lions. Now the King spake, and 
 said unto Daniel, Thy God whom thou servest continually, He mil 
 deliver thee." 
 
 The history of the prophet Daniel, furnishes some of 
 the most interesting illustrations of devoted piety, as 
 well as of the wisdom, the goodness, and the power of 
 God. We know nothing of this servant of God, except 
 as a captive in Babylon, suddenly exalted to the highest 
 station in the court and kingdom of his conqueror, and 
 thus employed as an illustrious instrument in working 
 out the Divine purposes. It could not be expected that 
 one of the hated Hebrew race, whose acts of daily piety 
 were a constant protest against all idolatry, could en- 
 joy such eminent favors without encountering the mal- 
 ice of envious aspirants. So the presidents and princes^ 
 failing to find occasion against Daniel, concerning the 
 
 *This Sermon and the one following are the last two, that were ever 
 composed by their lamented author. He was not spared to utter them 
 from the pulpit. See page 17. 
 
352 
 
 kingdom, conspired to ruin him, on the ground of his 
 religion. They accordingly procured a decree from the 
 King, that ■n-hosoever should ask a petition of anj God, 
 or man, for thirty days, save of the King, should be 
 cast iuto the den of lions. Such a decree, by the laws 
 of the Medes and Persians, was unalterable. When 
 Daniel knew that the decree was signed, he continued, 
 with no attempt at concealment, to worship his God as 
 usual. The conspii-ators then assembled, and accused 
 him to the King, of disregarding the statute which had 
 just been passed, and demanded the infliction of the 
 penalty. The monarch labored, until the going down 
 of the sun, to deliyer his favorite, — but finally yielded 
 to their demands. The result is recorded in our test. 
 The prophet was cast into the den of Hons, and the 
 mouth of the den secured with the Bang's signet, and 
 the signet of his lords. 
 
 The narrative furnishes some useful topics of reflec- 
 tion ; a few of which will form the subject of the pre- 
 sent discourse. 
 
 1. And iirst; — we learn the inveterate malignity of 
 the human heart, while unchanged, against all that is 
 truly good and holy. 
 
 The character of the Prophet Daniel stands pre-emi- 
 nent for its faultless excellence. In the Scripture re- 
 cord of his life and acts, we read not of a single sin, 
 springing either from wilfulness, or from the ordinary 
 infirmities of our nature. It is not to be supposed that 
 he was really without sin, either in the view of a Holy 
 God, or in the judgment of his own conscience. The pray- 
 er and confession which he made, in behalf of himself and 
 his people, show clearly, that he knew enough of his 
 
353 
 
 own heart, to humble him in the presence of God's spot- 
 less purity ; and that though, by the grace of God, he 
 may have been preserved from outward and gross trans- 
 gressions, he still needed the sanctifying power of the 
 Spirit, to make him meet for the inheritance of the 
 saints in light. Yet in the eye of man, he presented a 
 singularly noble specimen of godliness and fidelity. 
 His duties to his King, and to the country, over whose 
 interests he presided, were discharged with such integ- 
 rity, that his bitterest enemies despaired of finding any 
 ground of accusation against him, as unfaithful in his 
 trust ; and such was his zeal for the honor of God, that 
 " three times a day, he went into his house, and his win- 
 dows being opened in his chamber towards Jerusalem, 
 he kneeled upon his knees, and prayed, and gave thanks 
 before his God." 
 
 Every thing in religion, which can be rendered lovely 
 and attractive by the mere force of example, must have 
 been visible in the conduct of the prophet. Men gen- 
 erally, even those who make no secret of their opposi- 
 tion to the peculiar doctrines of the Cross, do homage 
 to the blessed fruits of these doctrines, as they see 
 them exhibited in the lives of hqmble and faithful disci- 
 ples. Indeed, it is frequently the sinner's excuse for 
 rejecting the claims of religion, that he does not see 
 that Christians are any better than others, — that, in 
 many respects, he thinks them less conscientious, less 
 attentive than himself, to the ordinary obligations of 
 honor ^nd of duty. Those who make this excuse, would 
 obviously have us infer, that could they only behold .be- 
 lievers adorning their profession, by all the practical 
 virtues of life, they would yield at once to the invita-. 
 
354 
 
 tions of the Gospel, and become followers of the Sa- 
 Tiom-. Theii" apology, however, is one of those many 
 refuges of lies, in -which the wicked take shelter. And 
 even before the day of their final calamity, God often 
 unmasks them to themselves, and shows them the hol- 
 lowness and insincerity of their hearts. So long as the 
 believer, in exemplifying the Christian virtues, interferes 
 not with the sinner's pursuit of worldly pleasui-es or in- 
 terests, or in the indulgence of unholy lusts, his charac- 
 ter will frequently be admii-ed, and extolled ; but let 
 there once be a collision, and all the native enmity of 
 the heart is aroused ; religion loses its aspect of loveli- 
 ness, and the believer becomes the object of hatred and 
 opposition. It was so in the case of the prophet Dan- 
 iel. Who can doubt that there was many an ungodly cour- 
 tier, — many a debased idolater, fully capable of being 
 impressed by the noble traits in the character of this 
 strange captive, — who could have admired and loved 
 him, had he stood apart among his own people, — -who 
 if they had read of such a character, would have enroll- 
 ed him among theu- gods, and have proclaimed his 
 praises, in story and in song. But he stood in the way 
 of their worldly interests ; his wisdom and his holiness 
 only served to expose their folly and impuritv. And in 
 mingling with his fellow courtiers, the faithfulness of 
 the prophet, doubtless, led him to utter many a rebuke 
 and warning in the ears of the selfish, the time serving, 
 the flattering and the false, as well as the grossh' im- 
 pure and idolatrous. He was consequently the object 
 of their deadly hatred. The venerable dignity with 
 which he adorned his station, his invulnerable integrity, 
 his unequalled accomplishments, and his attainments in 
 
355 
 
 holiness, "were no protection against their awakened 
 hostility. And that very religion, which, under other 
 circumstances, might have extorted sentiments of admi- 
 ration, was made the express reason for his destruction. 
 Such is the heart of man, when thoroughly tested. 
 "We have not here any singular or extravagant exhibi- 
 tions of human character. The enemies of Daniel were 
 the enemies of God, — the enemies of holiness and of 
 truth. Every age produces them, and in one form or 
 another, we shall find men acting out essentially the 
 same enmity and opposition, whenever the providence 
 of G-od compels them to choose, which of the two they 
 will serve, God or Mammon. Had the spotless Son of 
 God been content to move among the men of His gen- 
 eration, without disturbing their consciences by His 
 censure and rebukes, we might never have heard of the 
 scenes of Calvary. The most licentious infidel that 
 ever lived, is the author of a most glowing eulogy upon 
 the character of Jesus Cheist. The prophet Balaam, 
 though his heart was filled with covetousness, and he 
 himself perished, fighting among the enemies of God, 
 could yet exclaim in view of the destinies of God's 
 people, " How goodly are thy tents, Jacob, and thy 
 tabernacles, Israel." " Let me die the death of the 
 righteous, and let my last end be like his !" And may 
 we not safely appeal to the experience of many among 
 you, my Hearers, for the truthfulness of this picture ? 
 Religion may attract your regards, in many of the forms, 
 in which yon habitually encounter it. The Sabbath 
 may be honored in your observance, and your seat in 
 the Sanctuary may be punctually filled. You perhaps 
 love to contemplate the walk and conversation of some 
 
366 
 
 quiet and unobtrusive follower of Christ. You often 
 think of the peaceful end of the righteous, and sigh for 
 a death like his ; and all this, you may be inclined to 
 think, indicates a heart not at enmity with God. It 
 may be so ; but it may also be the cloak, with which 
 the great Deceiver conceals from you the true state of 
 the heart. All that has been mentioned, you may do, 
 because it falls in with your convenience, and costs you 
 nothing. But let that Christian whom you admire, or 
 let the minister of Christ, come to you with his rebukes 
 for sin, — let him tell you plainly that that heart of yours 
 must be changed, let him point you to the idols' which 
 you must cast away, if you would be a true disciple of 
 the Saviour, — let his intercourse with you be such, that 
 you cannot live at ease, whilst making the world your 
 portion, — and how soon would you begin to lose your 
 regard for your Christian friend, — how soon would re- 
 ligion itself begin to look unlovely and repulsive, how 
 soon would all the native opposition of the carnal mind 
 be aroused, and, unless overcome by omnipotent grace, 
 you would fall back among the avowed enemies of God. 
 So deceitful is the heart. There is something too stern 
 and fundamental in its dislike of the truth, to be 
 thoroughly won to the service of God, by the simple 
 display of that which is lovely and amiable in Christian 
 conduct ; else Daniel would never have been thrown to 
 the lions, — nor would the Saviour have been crucified. 
 What reason, then, is there for the prayer, " Search me, 
 God, and know my heart !" What reason to fear, 
 lest when the secrets of all hearts shall be revealed, 
 many a respecter of religion, — many an admirer of some 
 of its truths, will be found among the enemies of God. 
 
357 
 
 "Not every one," says Christ, "that saith unto Me, 
 Lord ! Lord ! shall enter into the Kingdom of heaven, 
 but he that doeth the will of My Father, which is in 
 heaven." 
 
 2. We learn that God sometimes suifers His most 
 faithful servants to be exposed to the greatest dangers, 
 and apparently abandoned to the power of their ene- 
 mies. 
 
 It was in the service of God, and in consequence of 
 his unflinching steadfastness in that service, that Daniel 
 suffered such a sudden reverse in his earthly condition 
 and prospects. The fact is particularly noticeable, not 
 simply on the general principle, that the people of God 
 are among the greatest sufferers in the present life, but 
 on account of the extremity to which he was brought, 
 and the seeming hopelessness of his case. 
 
 As an ordinary rule, the dark hours of trouble and 
 affliction are illumined by so many remaining mercies, 
 that whilst we mourn under the chastisements of God, 
 we can still praise Him for the comforts which yet sur- 
 round us. It is not often that we are brought to throw 
 ourselves simply and entirely upon the power of God, 
 to deliver us, — to see every refuge swept away, except 
 the omnipotence of our Divine Protector. He who will 
 not suffer us to be tried beyond what we are able to 
 bear, reserves such emergencies as these, for the strong 
 in faith, and that the weak believer may be instructed, 
 and strengthened, for the hour of trial. The discipline 
 to which Daniel was subjected, and his conduct under it, 
 are therefore peculiarly worthy of our study. He had 
 been zealous for the glory of Jehovah ; he had main- 
 tained his integrity, in the midst of most singular diffi- 
 
 31 
 
358 
 
 culties and temptations. In disobeying the King's de- 
 cree, he must risk losing the favor of his royal Master, 
 whom, no doubt, he honored and loved. His disobe- 
 dience must expose him to the most cruel sufferings and 
 death. And would his faithful, covenant God, aban- 
 don him to this, or permit his enemies to enjoy such 
 a malicious triumph ? Daniel had faith enough to be- 
 lieve that He would not; he therefore committed the 
 keeping of his soul to Him in well doing, as unto a 
 faithful Creator. But how painfully was the hour of 
 deliverance protracted ! Gradually, every subordinate 
 means of escape from the threatened peril disappears. 
 The foolish King struggled hard against the pertinacity 
 of his lords, even to the going down of the sun, to evade 
 the decree which his vanity had led him to sign. Ajad 
 probably Daniel hoped that the will of a capricious and 
 absolute monarch would prevail over a silly notion, and 
 the evident malice of his wicked counsellors. And when 
 he saw this ground of his hope removed, he might still 
 have trusted, that some providential interference would 
 come between him and the dreadful death which threat- 
 ened him. We can better imagine than describe, the 
 feelings of the prophet, when he found himself com- 
 pletely in the power of his foes, and entering the mouth 
 of the lion's den. This must have indeed been an hour 
 of darkness, of wonderful, mysterious dealing on the 
 part of God, whose honor he had so signally maintained, 
 in the midst of surrounding blasphemies and idolatry. 
 There was nothing now left for him to lean upon, but 
 God himself, — to lose sight of all probabilities and con- 
 jecture, and to submit to the good pleasure, and the 
 wisdom, of his Almighty Sovereign, and with a greater 
 
359 
 
 than Daniel, to say, " my Father ! if this cup may not 
 pass away from me, except I drink it, Thy will be done !" 
 Such is the extremity of trial, for which God, in His 
 wise providence, may be preparing any one of us. The 
 experience of Daniel was written for our learning, that 
 we, through patience and comfort of the Scriptures, 
 might have hope. God is training His people, by all 
 His dispensations, to put their whole trust and confidence 
 in Him, — to lead them away from all earthly and visible 
 dependence, and with the suifering and holy Job, to say, 
 " Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him !" Daniel, 
 had he chosen, might have resorted to other methods of 
 deliverance. He might have leaned to his own wisdom, 
 instead of committing his cause entirely to his righteous 
 Judge. Like some fearful believers, he might have 
 thought that the very greatness of his danger justified 
 him in making some compromise with his foes. He 
 might have judged it but a light matter, to have closed 
 his windows, and shut his doors about him, and in the 
 secresy of his chamber, to have uttered his prayers to 
 Him, who seeth and heareth in secret. Or, he might 
 have deemed it an excusable omission, to have refrained, 
 for a season, from his ordinary devotions, till the King 
 should be brought to a more sober judgment. But he 
 nobly rejected all such exjjedients as these. The honor 
 of his Divine Lord and King had been publicly assailed, 
 and he felt that in defending these, he might safely trust 
 for his security to the power of the God whom he served. 
 0, that we could all imbibe the courage and faith of this 
 servant of the Lord ! Beware of ever resorting to un- 
 lawful means of deliverance from any of your perplex- 
 ities. However great they may be, — however plausible 
 
360 
 
 the means of escape may seem, it is better to trust in 
 the Lord, than to put any confidence in them. The 
 honor of your God is at stake. He may be greatly 
 glorified by your waiting for his salvation. The very 
 purpose of His reducing you to such extremities, is that 
 your reliance may be upon Him. You may relieve your- 
 self from a present trouble, by adopting questionably, 
 devices of your own ; but you will lose a rich reward, 
 ia the consciousness of being saved by the right arm of 
 the Lord, and iu thus being brought nearer to Him, in 
 the bonds of a holier confidence and love. 
 
 3. Though Grod may bring His servants, by severe 
 measures, to put their sole trust in Him, he does not 
 leave them altogether without comfort. 
 
 Infinite wisdom has not seen fit to indulge our curi- 
 osity, by revealing to us the workings of the prophet's 
 mind, whilst undergoing this trial of his faith. But we 
 may not unlawfully nor unprofitably conjecture them. 
 Daniel, though a prophet, and endued with a large 
 measure of grace, was a man of like passions with other 
 men. And if he had not suffered from the common in- 
 firmities of our nature, the way in which the Lord was 
 pleased to lead him, would have lost all its character as 
 an act of discipline, or source of instruction. It was 
 doubtless a cause of grief to him, that he should be com- 
 pelled to cross the purposes of the King, whose chief 
 minister he was. The command which the King finally 
 gave, to cast him into the den of lions, might have 
 seemed to him like the wayward and passionate deter- 
 mination of a disappointed and fickle Despot, — and ta 
 see one, whose favor he had so lately enjoyed, suddenly 
 converted into his persecutor and destroyer, must have 
 
361 
 
 gteatly injured the sensibilities of his upright and noble 
 nature. We will not suppose that he felt the smallest 
 regret at the loss of his honors and dignities, or in being 
 banished from the pleasures of a luxurious court. Un- 
 questionably, he took no delight in these, and like Moses, 
 would choose rather to suffer afl&iction with the people 
 of God, than to enjoy the pleasures of sin. But it could 
 not but have somewhat shaken his firmness, to be called 
 to face death in so terrible a form, — to be torn violently 
 from existence, and so abruptly summoned into the 
 presence of his Judge. Eternity, too, is a solemn 
 thought. To approach it gradually, with an opportunity 
 for recollection, and the confirmation of our hope, is 
 ordinarily enough for mortal strength ; but to pass thus 
 rapidly from the scenes and responsibilties of life, 
 to the occupations of the eternal world, must demand a 
 more than usual supply of Divine support and comfort. 
 The prophet, we may well conjecture, felt all this, with- 
 out wavering, in the least, in his resolution to suffer the 
 whole will of God. Yet the rapid accumulation of 
 painful and solemn occurrences was well calculated to 
 produce some mental confusion, and oppress his heart 
 with sadness. How full of comfort, then, must have 
 been the words of his royal master, — " Thy God, whom 
 thou servest continually. He will deliver thee." How 
 appropriate the thought! How fitting, that the King 
 himself should be the one employed in the wisdom of 
 God, to suggest it to the noble sufferer ! It must have 
 assured him at once, if he ever doubted it, that his vib- 
 ation of the blasphemous decree, had' not lost him the 
 favor of the King; nay, that it had served to secure 
 to him a warm and sympathising friend. And if a 
 sv* 
 
362 
 
 cloud had passed over Ms soul, and his communion with 
 God had been at all disturbed, how must his heart have 
 risen above all his troubles, and found its repose, and 
 its steadfastness, restored, in remembrance of the 
 power, and the faithfulness of Jehovah ! It was appa- 
 rently a most timely succor. And how strange a com- 
 forter ! An ignorant pagan, a self-worshipper, minis- 
 tering Divine consolation to a man of God ! How glo- 
 riously does this illustrate the ability of God to furnish' 
 aid to His people from the most unexpected sources ! 
 How should it encourage us to trust His mercy and His 
 love, imder all discouragements ! In His own good 
 time. He will speak comfortably to all, whom He calls 
 to suffer. He wiU not permit them to be tried beyond 
 their strength. Eather than leave them without neces- 
 sary relief, He will raise up comforters from the very 
 stones on which we tread. How great and precious 
 is His promise, — '-'Fear not, Israel, for I have re- 
 deemed thee, I have called thee by thy name, — Thou 
 art Mine ; — I will even make a way, and give waters in 
 the wilderness, and spriags in the desert, to give di'ink 
 to My people. My chosen !" 
 
 4. Finally .• We may profitably notice in this trans- 
 action, one or two important purposes accomplished 
 by it. 
 
 The first and most obvious must have been the 
 strengthening of every grace^ for which Daniel had hith- 
 erto been so remarkable. The whole course of the 
 prophet's history presents him to us in a most striking 
 attitude, as a firm, dignified, and uncompromising chajn- 
 pion iu the cause of his religion, and his God. The 
 eye of a mere human critic can discover no blemish in 
 
363 
 
 his character; yet the severer scrutiny of Him, who 
 " seeth not as man seeth," could discern the need of a 
 purifying process, to iit His servant for more exalted 
 services in His Church. The sufferings of good men, — 
 of the eminently devoted followers of Christ, should 
 cease to be a mystery to us, when we remember that 
 God chargeth even His angels with folly, — that suffering 
 is the chosen method of mercy, by which He would make 
 us the partakers of His holiness, and that the very best 
 of men have used the strongest and the most self-abas- 
 ing language, in view of their own sins and imperfec- 
 tions. St. Paul regarded himself as the chief of sin- 
 ners. Daniel prostrated himself before God, in confes- 
 sion of sin, with shame and confusion of face ; and Job, 
 when he saw more clearly the Divine holiness and glory, 
 abhorred himself, and repented in dust and ashes. Let 
 the thought, my fellow Christians, save us from think- 
 ing of om'selves more highly than we ought to think; 
 let it lead us to contemplate more studiously the per- 
 fections and the glory of God, and if He call us to pass 
 through the furnace of affliction, to do so in reliance 
 upon the Divine presence and strength, — trusting that 
 when he hath tried us, we may come forth as gold. 
 
 But what we would more particularly notice, in the 
 case of Daniel, is the necessity of personal experience, 
 in order to receive the full impression of sacred truth. 
 His exposure in the den of lions, is the first instance that 
 we read of, in which his faith and confidence in God were 
 put to such a test. When Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed- 
 nego, were cast bound into the burning fiery furnace, 
 Daniel, though one of their companions in the govern- 
 ment of the kingdom, and in fidelity to God, was not 
 
364 
 
 called to share that trial. He was permitted merely 
 to witness it, and to receive what instruction might be 
 obtained from observing their steadfastness, and tri- 
 umph. He undoubtedly received great spiritual profit 
 from the" sufferings of his brethren in captivity, and glo- 
 rified God in their behalf. But this was not sufficient. 
 God saw it necessary that he himself, in his own person, 
 should also suff'er, in order to know the difficulty, and 
 the benefit, of submission to the Divine will. Without 
 this, his faith and patience could not have had their per- 
 fect work. And thus is it with every child of God. 
 What you see, Brethren, in the afflictions of others, may 
 give you much profit and instruction. It may fit you 
 for many important services in the cause of Christ ; but 
 you must know it all in your own experience, before 
 you can have a full and adequate knowledge of the force, 
 and meaning, of the Divine precepts, and be imbued with 
 that strength which is made perfect in our weakness. 
 
 And how great was the glory which the God of Dan- 
 iel derived from the issue of this trial ! This indeed is 
 the point upon which every lover of God will fix, as one 
 of crowning interest and importance. It was evidently 
 the design of the Almighty, that whilst His servant 
 should be greatly profited. He Himself should be glori- 
 fied in the eyes of His own people, and before their 
 heathen oppressors. It is mentioned as the climax — 
 the great result and the purpose, of the whole transac- 
 tion, so that when King Darius found that Daniel was 
 delivered by the care and the power of God, from the 
 fury of the lions, he wrote a Decree unto all people, 
 nations, and languages, that dweU in all the earth, — 
 " That in every dominion of my kingdom, men tremble 
 
365 
 
 and fear before, the God op Daniel ; for He is the living 
 God, and steadfast forever, and His Kingdom that which 
 shall not be destroyed, and His dominion shallbe even 
 unto the end. He delivereth and rescueth, and He 
 worketh signs and wonders, in Heaven and Earth, who 
 hath delivered Daniel from the power of the lions." 
 how little do you know, Brethren, the gracious and 
 exalted purpose of Infinite Wisdom, when He causes 
 you to go down into the vale of sorrow ! What honor 
 He is putting upon a sinful feeble worm of the dust, in 
 making you an instrument in bringing glory to His great 
 Name. You may not see this in the hour of suffering, — 
 but could you look beyond the brief moment of your 
 light af&iction, and behold every tear that you shed, a 
 gem in the crown of your Eedeemer, — ^how gladly would 
 you suffer for Christ's sake ! How would you welcome 
 every grief, — " that the trial of your faith, being much 
 more precious than of gold that perisheth, might be 
 found unto praise and honor and glory, at the appearing 
 of Jesus Cheist ! " 
 
 Finished on Saturday, July 30, 1853, 
 
0ennon 27. 
 
 THE STILL SMALL VOICE. 
 
 1 Kings xix. 11, 12, 13. — '^ And behold, the Lord passed by, and 
 a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and brake in pieces the 
 rocks before the Lord ; but the Lord was not in the wind : and after 
 the wind, an earthquake; but the Lord was not in the earthquake: 
 and after the earthquake, a fire ; but the Lord was not in the fire : 
 and after the fire, a still small voice. And it was so, when Elijah 
 heard it, that he wrapped his face in his mantle, and went out, and 
 stood in the entering in of the cave." 
 
 This manifestation of the Lord to His prophet Elijah, 
 was made upon momit Horeb, whither Elijah had fled 
 from the threatenings of Jezebel, the wicked queen of 
 Ahab. But a short time previous to the events record- 
 ed in the text, we read of that wonderful exhibition of 
 God's power, the miraculous descent of fire from heaven 
 to consume the burnt-sacrifice of the Prophet, and Eli- 
 jah's amazing zeal and courage in the destruction of the 
 prophets of Baal. It would seem that Elijah had ex- 
 pected too much from that display of the Lord's power 
 and glory. He had hastily concluded that his people 
 would utterly renounce their idolatry, after witnessing 
 
367 
 
 the ease with which Jehovah could vindicate His claims. 
 He supposed that such a memorable spectacle would 
 lead to a reformation in Israel, and to the restoration 
 of Divine worship in its purity. — His disappointment, 
 therefore, was great, when instead of any such result, 
 he encountered the awakened wrath of the abandoned 
 Jezebel, who threatened him with speedy death, in re- 
 venge for the destruction of Baal's prophets. The 
 courage he had so recently displayed, gave way to fear, 
 and he fled for his life, till he came to Horeb, the mount 
 of God; where it pleased the Lord again to manifest 
 Himself to him, in the unexpected and instructive man- 
 ner narrated in the text. There came first the strong 
 wind, rending the mountains and the rocks ; but the 
 Lord was not in the wind : and after the wind, an earth- 
 quake ; but the Lord was not in the earthquake : and 
 after the earthquake, a fire ; but the Lord was not in 
 the fire : and after the fire, a still small voice. The 
 wind, the earthquake, and the fire, must have produced 
 their natural effects upon the mind of the prophet, in- 
 spiring him with holy fear and dread ; — but the full im- 
 pression of the Divine presence was not felt, till these 
 imposing scenes had passed, and there fell upon the ear 
 of the trembling and expectant Elijah, the gentle whis- 
 perings of that still small voice. The effect of it was 
 immediate and remarkable. The awed and humble 
 Prophet acknowledged the presence of God's eternal 
 majesty, by wrapping his face in his mantle, and devout- 
 ly standing to hear what the Lord his God would say 
 unto him. 
 
 Eeligion consists essentially and fundamentally in 
 right apprehensions of the Divine Being. Without 
 
368 
 
 these, we cannot feel aright toward Him, nor can we 
 effectually serve Him. But God Himself must neces- 
 sarily be our instructor in this matter. We are in 
 darkness and ignorance and sin. We know nothing of 
 Him, except so far as it has pleased Him to make Him- 
 self known to us. We know not how He may best be 
 glorified, except as we are guided by the instructions 
 of His revealed Word, and the imparted inlSuences of 
 His Spirit. The Prophet Elijah was made to feel this ; 
 to humble himself before God in the discoveries He 
 made of the Divine character at mount Horeb, — and to 
 return to the discharge of his duties, a wiser, a meeker, 
 and a holier man. 
 
 Let me invite your attention to the contemplation of 
 his experience, and to the lessons which it teaches. 
 For what can be of greater importance, than justly to 
 know Him, in whom we live and move and have our 
 being ? to know how we may have safe access and com- 
 munion with Him, before whom we must stand in the 
 judgment ? and to learn here in His service upon earth, 
 the methods of Divine wisdom and grace vrith fallen 
 man, that we may be qualified for the holier and more 
 important services of that world, where God is revealed 
 in unveiled glory. 
 
 1. The text then teaches us, in the first place, that 
 the truest idea of God is not to be obtained so much 
 from the exhibitions of His power, as from the various 
 ways in which He has caused mercy to triumph over 
 judgment. 
 
 This general truth may be illustrated by the method 
 of salvation, — the way in which it pleased a justly of- 
 fended God, specially to reveal Himself to His fallen 
 
369 
 
 creature, and to win him from the paths of sin. This 
 merciful purpose of the Almighty was not, and could 
 not be accomplished by all the terrors of Mount Sinai, 
 by the awful exhibitions there made of His irresistible 
 might, and His unapproachable holiness, but by the 
 milder glories of Mount Zion, — by the proclamations of 
 His love and mercy in the person of the Lord Jesus 
 Christ. The giving of the Law, with its terrible array 
 of thunderings and of lightnings, was a wonderful man- 
 ifestation of God's wisdom, as a part of the great 
 scheme for recovering man from his apostasy. It taught 
 His people to know against what a Being they had 
 dared to rebel, — how easily He could have doomed the 
 whole race to perdition, — how perfect and spotless was 
 His character, and how exceeding broad that law, whose 
 solemn obligations and sanctions, must ever rest upon 
 the heart and conscience of eveiy rational creature. 
 It was peculiarly appropriate, and well calculated to 
 bring the sinner in the dust before God, — to clothe 
 him with humility, and prepare him under a trembling 
 sense of his worthlessness and guilt and danger, to lis- 
 ten to the soft whispers of peace, — to welcome with 
 gratitude and love, the language of reconciliation, — the 
 blessings of salvation through the atonement of the 
 Cross, as these are applied to the soul by " the still 
 small voice" of the Spirit. When we say, then, that 
 salvation could not be effected by the Law, — we do not 
 mean to speak of that Law as a powerless thing. When 
 we say that the true glory of God is not seen in it, — 
 we do not mean that it has no glory at all. When we 
 point you to the Cross, to the words of love which fell 
 from the lips of a dying Saviour, — we would not have 
 
370 
 
 you forget the lessons of Sinai ; that this is the same 
 Grod who spake in thunder from the burning Mount, and 
 who will yet again, in the dreadful day of Judgment, 
 pronounce upon the incorrigibly wicked, the sentence 
 of everlasting punishment. God cannot change. Mount 
 Sinai and Mount Calvary, are links in the same chain 
 of Divine mercy and love. The Law is our School 
 Master to bring us to Christ. Its instructions and dis- 
 cipline are a necessary preparation for a just and safe 
 reception of the Gospel, or that Gospel will be but a 
 system of licentiousness, and the source of a deeper 
 condemnation. 
 
 With these precautionary thoughts, we would turn 
 your attention, then, directly to the glory of the Gospel. 
 ■•' For if the ministration of death, written and engraven 
 in stones, was glorious, which glory was to be done 
 away, how shall not the ministration of the Spirit be 
 rather glorious ? And if the ministration of condemna- 
 tion be glory, much more doth the ministration of right- 
 eousness exceed in glory. " It is the triumph of the 
 Gospel, that whilst it makes no concealment of God's 
 holiness, and establishes the requirements of His Law, 
 it tells the trembling transgressor, that there is mercy 
 with God for even the '■ chief of sinners." It is the glory 
 of the Cross, that in the sufferings of Jesus, and in the 
 proclamations of pardoning love, " Mercy and truth have 
 met together ; righteousness and peace have kissed each 
 other." God is the same just and holy God ; — for the 
 wilful and finally impenitent. He has the same sentence 
 of eternal condemnation. But the voice of the Son of 
 God pleads with the sinner in the language of tender 
 persuasion, to flee from the wrath to come. He points 
 
371 
 
 him to His own precious blood, as a Fountain in whicli 
 the guilty soul may be cleansed from all stain of sin. 
 What the Law could not do, in that it was weak through 
 the flesh, — Cheist has done for us, by His agony and 
 bloody sweat, by His Cross and Passion, and precious 
 Death. God now approaches us, in the person of Plis 
 dear Son, with the great and precious invitations and 
 promises of His Gospel. — " Come unto Me, all ye that 
 are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest." 
 " He that believeth in Me, though he were dead, yet 
 shall he live ; and he that liveth and believeth in Me 
 shall never die." The great and glorious Jehovah de- 
 scends from Heaven to earth, that ho may speak more 
 familiarly with man, and utter these words of mercy. 
 The Spirit pleads, — oh how tenderly, — with what watch- 
 fulness, and forbearance, — with what long suffering and 
 patience ! In the days of youth, when the heart is more 
 susceptible to the motives of love, He hovers over the 
 ripening emotions of the soul ; — He whispers of Heaven, 
 and discourses of the imspeakable love of Jesus. Though 
 grieved and resisted, — when the sinner is wearied witli 
 worldly pleasure, — or broken with disappointment. He 
 returns, and speaks again of Christ, and of a better 
 world. And how gently does He minister to the hearts 
 of the children of God. If we yield to His holy guid- 
 ance, — what comfort is there in the hour of sorrow, iu 
 the gracious consolations which He imparts. How effect- 
 ually does He bind up the broken heart, and pour balm 
 upon the bruised spirit ! And does not this ministra- 
 tion of righteousness, then, exceed in glory? How 
 worthy of God, — that He should not only proclaim to 
 us His holiness in the threatenings of His Law, — but 
 
372 
 
 that in the provisions of His Gospel, and by " the still 
 small voice" of His Spirit, He should make us the par- 
 takers of that holiness. God is Love ; that we might 
 be constrained to lore Him ! God is just ; — He will 
 by no means clear the guilty. " He that despised Mo- 
 ses' Law, died without mercy under two or three wit- 
 nesses ; — of how much sorer pimishment, suppose ye, 
 shall he be thought worthy, Avho hath trodden under 
 foot the Son of God, and hath done despite unto the 
 Spii'it of Grace." 
 
 2. God is not found, in the truest sense, in the heavy 
 judgments which He sometimes sends upon nations and 
 communities. 
 
 It is true of these, as of the threatenings of the Divine 
 Law, that they serve a great and important purpose in 
 God's providential government. " When Thy judgments 
 arc in the earth," sa}s the Prophet, " the inhabitants of 
 the world will learn righteousness." 
 
 The natuial cifects of such visitations, is to awake the 
 sleeping consciences of God's jjeople, and to alarm the 
 ■ wicked. Eut such effects are generally imperfect and 
 transitory. Who has not witnessed this, in the history of 
 any public calamity ? When an unexpected accident 
 occurs, by which hundreds of our fellow-beings are sud- 
 denly swept from time into eternity, — the blow falls with 
 a stunning power upon the minds of men. The hand of 
 God is indeed recognised ; we feel how frail and impotent 
 we arc against the countless methods, by which the spark 
 of life^iay be, ih. a moment, quenched. We are checked 
 for a time in our earthly pursuits, and even worldly men 
 will speak to each other of things, which, at other times, 
 they would be ashamed to own, as having any control 
 
373 
 
 over their thoughts or lives. But the event is soon 
 forgotten. It reaches no deeper than the conscience, 
 or the fears of men. And these are soon pacified by 
 accustomed pleasures or pursuits. " God was not in the 
 wind, the earthquake, or the fireP There was no pecu- 
 liar or sufBcicnt efficacj', in these alone, to lead the soul 
 to Cheist. Men soon become familiar with them, and 
 their very repetition produces an indifference, which 
 requires som^ething of a new and much more startling 
 nature to disturb. The same may be noticed, when the 
 pestilence is abroad, and the mourners go about the 
 streets, and the dead are carried by scores to their 
 narrow home. "When the first intelligence is given, 
 that the dreadful scourge is on the wing, and will soon 
 be among us, to desolate our homes, — every heart trem- 
 bles, and becomes faint Vv-itli fear. The hand performs 
 but imperfectly its usual office in the work of life ; for 
 it is alm^ost paralyzed with the thought, that it may soon 
 be motionless in the grave. And when the work of 
 death begins, and neighbor and friend are struck down 
 at our side, — how tame, — how trifling, — how obtrusive 
 do the concerns of the world appear ! Hovf many times 
 over, would the ungodly exchange their earthly substance 
 for one gleam of hope beyond the grave ! See them 
 crowding the temples of God ; — men who never prayed 
 before, — earnestly seeking deliverance from Him, who 
 dispenses life and death at His sovereign pleasure. But 
 soon there is a change. Men become familiar with 
 sights of distress ; — even corruption and the grave lose 
 something of their terrors. The living move away the 
 dead, almost as if in perfect security, and sometimes 
 hardened by the scenes of horror which surround them. 
 
 32 
 
374 
 
 God is indeed here, in a very important sense. His pro- 
 vidential presence is much felt and acknowledged. But 
 where are those who are brought to own Him as their 
 covenant God and Saviour ? To give their hearts to 
 Him in holy love, and to consecrate their lives to His 
 service ? Do we ever hear of numerous conversions to 
 God, wrought by such means as these ? When the 
 storm has parsed by, how many retiu-n to thank God, that 
 they are yet in the land of the living, and of hope ? 
 Unless the wind, the earthquake and the fire are fol- 
 lowed by "the still small voice" of the Spirit, it will be 
 in vain that men have trembled and feared before the 
 God of Heaven. It is not amidst such scenes as these, 
 that such a voice is mostly heard, or uttered. It is 
 when the soul can look more calmly and thoughtfully at 
 her own condition, that this heavenly Visitant comes 
 with His blessed entreaties and successful appeals. It 
 is when you can sit down and? think of past dangers 
 m.ercifully escaped, — when you can contemplate the bles- 
 sings with which the Lord is crowning your existence, 
 when you can listen to the gracious invitations of Christ, 
 and give heed to His word of warning, 0, it is then, that 
 His holy influences are distilled as the dew, and as the 
 showers upon the tender herb. Wait not, my hearers, 
 to be alarmed, or startled into religion, by some extraor- 
 dinary providence. It may be His message, to summon 
 you all unprepared, and with no opportunity for repen- 
 tance, to stand before His judgment seat. Now is the 
 accepted time. Obey the monitions of His Spirit, when 
 He comes to you in the horn- of solitude, — when His stiU 
 small voice is heard in the silence of the night watches, — ' 
 when He speaks to you in your prosperity, — ^when He 
 
375 
 
 calls you amidst comforts and blessings innumerable, 
 to give your affections, and not your fears, to that Sa- 
 viour, who has so loved you, as to lay down His life for 
 your redemption. 
 
 3. The scene in our text reminds us, that God is not 
 found amidst the noisy occupations of the world. 
 
 The world, with its active duties, is the sphere of 
 man's jorobation, and has a just demand upon his 
 thoughts and energies. It is of the first importance, 
 however, when entering upon those duties, to discrimi- 
 nate between the impulses of a busy spirit, or the love 
 of worldly pursuits, and a conscientious desire to do the 
 will of our Father in Heaven. In performing any knovra 
 duty of life, we are no doubt pleasing God as fully as 
 when we are sitting at the feet of Jesus. We may find 
 Him, and commune with Him, while engaged in these 
 duties, with equal, or even greater satisfaction, than 
 when we are bending before His mercy-seat. The 
 spirit of Christ is an active spirit. It is ever devising 
 schemes of mercy, and unwearied in tlieir execution. 
 But in all this activity, there will be nothing to disturb 
 the harmony of the soul in its intercoui'se with God. 
 The very first symptoms of decay in spiritual strength 
 will instinctively be felt, and the fields of active exer- 
 tion, whether in the performance of deeds of charity and 
 mercy, or in the ordinary avocations of life, will be aban- 
 doned for the closet, to seek fresh supplies from Him, 
 " of Whose only gift it cometh, that His faithful people 
 do unto Him true and laudable service." But this godly 
 fidelity may be, and often is, made the plea for an almost 
 utter neglect of the claims of religion. The man of 
 business surrounds himself with the complicated ma- 
 
376 
 
 chinery of vast mercantile projects. Every moment of 
 every day is filled up with anxious thoughts concerning 
 some plan for worldly aggi'andizement. The alterna- 
 tions of fear and hope, — of disappointment and success, 
 are all confined to the perishable things of earth. With 
 many, not a moment can be spared for the interests of 
 the soul and eternity. Even the sacred day of rest, — 
 that merciful provision of a bountiful God, — is absorbed 
 in the whirl of secular pursuits. There are not wanting 
 those, who will dignify all this with the name of duty ; 
 who first encompass themselves with embarrassments 
 and hindrances in their way to heaven, and then plead 
 them as excuses to their conscience, and their God. It 
 can be no matter of surprise, that such should be left to 
 their own devices. It cannot be expected that God will 
 %vork a miracle for their salvation. The " still small 
 voice" of His Spirit Avill not be heard amidst the din, 
 and strife, and anxiety for the things of this life. Con- 
 science may often be disturbed and alarmed; but the 
 winning and gentle tones of the Spirit, by which the 
 soul is cflectually led to the Cross of Christ, will reach 
 the sinner, only in connection with the means of salva- 
 tion, or in the due discharge of the world's claims upon 
 his attention. The case which we have mentioned ig, 
 an extreme one ; but its spii'it animates a large class of 
 those who would be unwilling to close against them- 
 selves the door of mercy. Many a professed disciple 
 of Christ, whose thoughts and affections should be set 
 upon things above, is so entangled amidst worldly cares, 
 that the soul can with difficulty rise to the contempla- 
 tion of her heavenly hopes. The six days of earthly 
 toil are so sedulously given to the interests of time. 
 
377 
 
 that the kingdom of God and His righteousness obtain 
 but a secondary place in their thoughts. The child of 
 God is often insensibly led to engage so extensively in 
 the pursuits of the world, that before he is aware of it, 
 a worldly spirit governs him ; religion degenerates into 
 a duty, instead of being a privilege, and a pleasure ; — 
 His ungodly associations will follow him to the secret 
 chamber, and even into the sanctuary, and his soul be- 
 comes almost barren of all spiritual enjoyment. In such 
 cases, he has gone beyond the sphere, into which the 
 " still small voice" of the Spirit penetrates. He has 
 forgotten the gracious admonitions of the Saviour, that 
 but one thing is needful. Like Martha, he is careful and 
 troubled about many things. Like Mary, he should cast 
 those burdens upon the Lord, and must come into closer 
 communication with Him, before ' he can again receive 
 the blessed communications of His Spirit. These earthly 
 aims and anxieties grieve Him ; they are quite uncon- 
 genial with His holy influence, and unless restrained 
 within just bounds, may leave the negligent disciple a 
 stranger to His comforts. 
 
 And if this be true of excessive application to what is, 
 in itself, lawful, how much more so must it be of an 
 habitual devotion to " the vain pomp and glory of the 
 world." Nothing is so well calculated to deprave the 
 moral sense, as a continued indulgence in the mere 
 amusements of life. The pleasure-seeker, it is true, has 
 sometimes sickened of the pursuit. God has sought 
 him, even amidst the gayeties of life, and reclaimed him 
 from his sin and folly. But such cases are always no- 
 ticed as remarkable interpositions of Divine power and 
 grace. They only serve to prove that with God noth- 
 
378 
 
 ing is impossible. The rule is far otherwise. A con- 
 stant mingling in scenes of pleasure- must unfit the soul 
 for pure and holy impressions. The Spirit of God is 
 not the companion of the noisy revel, or the more refined 
 amusements of the ball room. In moments of retire- 
 ment from such scenes, when the mind is wearied with 
 the empty round of dissipation, the ■• still small voice" 
 of the Spirit may find access to the guilty trifler, and 
 seek to win his soul to God. But many has been the 
 melancholy instance, in which His voice has been, 
 silenced by continued visits to the seat of sinful pleas- 
 ures, and the gay victim never again favored with the 
 whispers of His love. Innocent as those amusements 
 may appear to some, they have been the strong wind, 
 the earthquake, and the fiie, to the spiritual hopes of 
 thousands. 
 
 4. Lastly. God is not likely to be found, when the 
 soul is surroimded by the terrors of death, and the fears 
 of an approaching judgment. 
 
 We have ahready seen that the Divine method of 
 subduing the heart of the rebellious sinner, is a method 
 of gentleness and love. The moment which He chooses 
 for approaching the soul, is when that soul is least 
 likely to be disturbed hx overpowei'ing apprehensions, 
 or when most withdrawn from the distractions of life, 
 and therefore most accessible to the persuasions of His 
 Spirit. A death-bed repentance impossible; as possible as 
 that the gay reveller may be visited by the overpowering 
 influences of God's spti-it, in the midst of his intoxicat- 
 ing pleasm-es. But both are to be explained upon the 
 same principle. They are out of the ordinary course of 
 Divine mercy, and are to be ascribed to tlse abounding 
 
379 
 
 grace of Him, who worketli all things according to His 
 will. Who would be so reckless, as to abandon himself 
 to a course of licentiousness, with the hope that God 
 would snatch him from the midst of his vile indulgences, 
 and make him a signal monument of His mercy ! Yet 
 he is no less presumptuous, who defers repentance to 
 the weakness and fears of a dying hour. Religion, when 
 truly embraced, is the choice of the soul over all earthly 
 good. It is her heritage forever, — the consolation and 
 the balm of life, — the surest and the only preparation 
 for death. It is the giving of the heart to God, whilst 
 the faculties are strong, and the affections warm, and 
 while the energies of life may be consecrated to the 
 service of an adorable Redeemer. It is to be moved 
 by constraining love, to be persuaded by every argu- 
 ment of Divine condescension and entreaty, by the good- 
 ness which follows us every day. It is to leave all, and 
 to suffer all, for the Lord whom we love. To do this, 
 we must be capable of reflecting upon the subject, with 
 a good degree of calmness and decision. We must be 
 satisfied that it is our choice. And can we do this, 
 whilst contending with the fears of death ? whilst op- 
 pressed with the memories of a life, all spent in the 
 neglect of Christ ? whilst a guilty conscience, on one 
 hand, chides us with its just rebukes, and on the other, 
 we behold the great white throne of judgment, and the 
 Book of life opened in the presence of Him, whose eye 
 is as a flame of fire, and will scan every act, and every 
 word, and every thought ? Surely this is not the favored 
 hour for the soul to choose whom it will serve ! This is 
 not the moment in which to hear 'y;he still small voice" 
 of the Spii'it, with His mild entreaties, — Hia soothing 
 
380 
 
 promises and blessed hopes. The mind is too disturbed 
 for this. It is the hour when the Lord passes by the 
 trembling sinner, in the " great strong wind, the earth- 
 quake and the fire" of approaching retribution, " the 
 wrath of the Lamb." " Come now" says God, " and let 
 us reason together," — now, whilst you are capable of 
 reasoning, — now, in the bloom of youth, — now, in the 
 strength of your manhood. The " still small voice" of 
 the Spirit reaches you from every portion of His glo- 
 rious creation. In the means of grace, and the invita- 
 tions of the gospel, the Spirit and the Bride say. Come ! 
 
 Finished on Friday, Aug. 5, 18.53.