V 
 
 
CORNELL 
 
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 LIBRARY 
 
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Cornell University Library 
 BX5133 .B98 
 
 Sermons / by Joseph Butler. 
 
 olin 
 
 3 1924 029 445 701 
 
\))m 
 
 Cornell University 
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 The original of tliis book is in 
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SERMONS 
 
 BY TUB 
 
 RIGHT REVEREND FATHER IN GOD, 
 
 JOSEPH BUTLER, D.C.L. 
 
 LORD BISHOP OF DURHAM. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 ROBERT CARTER, 53 CANAL STREET. 
 
 * AND PITTSBUEG, 56 MARKET STREET. 
 1846. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Though it is scarce possible to avoid judging, in some 
 way or other, of almost every thing which offers itself to 
 one's thoughts ; yet it is certain, that many persons, from 
 diff'erent causes, never exercise their judgment, upon 
 •what comes before them, in the way of determining whe- 
 ther it be conclusive, and holds. They are perhaps enter- 
 tained with some things, not so with others ; they like, 
 and they dislike : but whether that which is proposed to 
 be made out be really made out or not; whether a matter 
 be stated according to the real truth of the case, seems to 
 the generality' of people merely a circumstance of no con- 
 sideration at all. Arguments are often wanted for some 
 accidental purpose: but proof, as such, is what they never 
 want for themselves ; for their own satisfaction of mind, 
 or conduct in life. Not to mention the multitudes who 
 read merely for the sake of talking, or to qualify them- 
 selves for the world, or some such kind of reasons ; there 
 are, even of the few who read for their own entertain- 
 ment, and have a real curiosity to see what is said, seve- 
 ral, which is prodigious, who have no sort of curiosity 
 to see what is true : I say, curiosity ; because it is too ob- 
 vious to be mentioned, how much that religious and sa- 
 cred attention, which is due to truth, and to the impor- 
 tant question. What is the rule of life ? is lost out of the 
 world. 
 
 For the sake of this whole class of readers, for they 
 are of diff'erent capacities, diff'erent kinds, and get into 
 this way from different occasions, I have often wished 
 that it had been the custom to lay before people nothing 
 in matters of argument but premises, and leave them to 
 draw conclusions themselves ; which, though it could not 
 be done in all cases, might in many. 
 
 The great number of books and papers of amusement. 
 
IV PREFACE. 
 
 which, of one kind or another, daily come in one's way, 
 have in part occasioned, and most perfectly fall in with 
 and humour, this idle way of reading and considering 
 things. By this means, time even in solitude is happily 
 got rid of, without the pain of attention : neither is 
 any part of it more put to the account of idleness, one 
 can scarce forbear saying, is spent with less thought, 
 than great part of that which is spent in reading. 
 
 Thus people habituate themselves to let things pass 
 through their minds, as one may speak, rather than to 
 think of them. Thus by use they become satisfied 
 merely with seeing what is said, without going any fur- 
 ther. Review and attention, and even forming a judg- 
 ment, becomes fatigue ; and to lay any thing before them 
 that requires it, is putting them quite out of their way. 
 
 There are also persons, and there are at least more 
 of them than have a right to claim such superiority, who 
 take for granted, that they are acquainted with every 
 thing; and that no subject, if treated in the manner it 
 should be, can be treated in any manner but what is 
 familiar and easy to them. 
 
 It is true indeed, that few persons have a right to de- 
 mand attention ; but it is also true, that nothing can be 
 understood without that degree of it, which the very na- 
 ture of the thing requires. Now morals, considered as 
 a science, concerning which speculative difficulties are 
 daily raised, and treated with regard to those difficulties, 
 plainly require a very peculiar attention. For here 
 ideas never are in themselves determinate, but become 
 so by the train of reasoning and the place they stand in ; 
 since it is impossible that words can always stand foi 
 the same ideas, even in the same author, much less in 
 different ones. Hence an argument may not readily be 
 apprehended, which is different from its being mistak- 
 en; and even caution to avoid being mistaken may, in 
 some cases, render it less readily apprehended. It is 
 very unallowable for a. wwk of imagination or entertain- 
 ment not to be of easy comprehension, but may be una- 
 voidable in a work of another kind, where a man is not 
 to form or accommodate, but to state things as he finds 
 them. 
 
PREFACE. V 
 
 It must be acknowledged, that some of the following 
 Discourses are very abstruse and difficult; or, if you 
 please, obscure ; but I must take leave to add, that those 
 alone are judges, whether or no and how far this is a 
 fault, who are judges, whether or no and how far it might 
 have been avoided — those only who will be at the trou- 
 ble to understand what is here said, and to see how far 
 the things here insisted upon, and not other things, might 
 have been put in a plainer manner ; which yet I am very 
 far from asserting that they could not. 
 
 Thus much however will be allowed, that general 
 criticisms concerning obscurity considered as a distinct 
 thing from confusion and perplexity of thought, as in 
 some cases there may be ground for them ; so in 
 others, they may be nothing more at the bottom than 
 complaints, that every thing is not to be understood with 
 the same ease that some things are. Confusion and 
 perplexity in writing is indeed without excuse, because 
 any one may, if he pleases, know whether he understands 
 and sees through what he is about : and it is unpardon- 
 able for a man to lay his thoughts before others, when 
 he is conscious that he himself does not know whereabouts 
 he is, or how the matter before him stands. It is com- 
 ing abroad in disorder, which he ought to be dissatisfied 
 to find himself in at home. 
 
 But even obscurities arising from other causes than, 
 the abstruseness of the argument may not be always 
 inexcusable. Thus a subject may be treated in a man- 
 ner, which all along supposes the reader acquainted with 
 what has been said upon it, both by ancient and modern 
 writers ; and with what is the present state of opinion in 
 the world concerning such subject. This will create a 
 difficulty of a very peculiar kind, and even throiE an 
 obscurity over the whole before those who are not thus 
 informed ; but those who are will be disposed to excuse 
 such a manner, and other things of the like kind, as a 
 saving of their patience. 
 
 However upon the whole, as the title of Sermons gives 
 some right to expect what is pl<*in and of easy compre- 
 hension, and as the best auditories are mixed, I shall not 
 set about to justify the propriety of preaching, or under 
 
VI PHEFACE. 
 
 that title publishing, Discourses so abstruse as some of 
 these are ;- neither is it worth while to trouble the reader 
 with the account of my doing either. He must not how- 
 ever impute to me, as a repetition of the impropriety, this 
 second edition,* but to the demand for it. 
 
 Whether he will think he has any amends made him 
 by the following illustrations of what seemed most to 
 require them, I myself am by no means a proper judge. 
 
 There are two ways in which the subject of morals 
 may be treated. One begins from inquiring into the 
 abstract relations of things : the other from a matter of 
 fact, namely, what the particular nature of man is, its 
 several parts, their economy or constitution ; from 
 whence it proceeds to determine what course of life it 
 is, which is correspondent to this whole nature. In the 
 former method the conclusion is expressed thus, that 
 vice is contrary to the nature and reason of things: in 
 the latter, that it is a violation or breaking in upon our 
 own nature. Thus they both lead us to the same thing, 
 our obligations to the practice of virtue; and thus they 
 exceedingly strengthen and enforce each other. The 
 first seems the most direct formal proof, and in some 
 respects the least liable to cavil and dispute: the latter 
 is in a pecuhar manner adapted to satisfy a fair mind; 
 and is more easily applicable to the several particular 
 relations and circumstances in life. 
 
 The following Discourses proceed chiefly in this latter 
 method. The three first wholly. They were intended 
 to explain what is meant by the nature of man, when it 
 is said that virtue consists in following, and vice in 
 deviating from it; and by explaining to show that the 
 assertion is true. That the ancient morahsts had some 
 inward feeling or other, which they chose to express in 
 this manner, that man is born to virtue, that it consists 
 in following nature, and that vice is more contrary to 
 this nature than tortures or death, their works in our 
 hands are instances. Now a person who found no 
 mystery in this way of speaking of the ancients; who, 
 without being very explicit with himself, kept to his 
 natural feeling, went along with them, and found within 
 
 • The preface stands exactly as it did before the secotd edition of the ScnnoM. 
 
PREFACE. VH 
 
 himself a fuU conviction, that what they laid down was 
 just and true ; such a one would probably wonder to see 
 a point, in which he never perceived any difficulty, so 
 laboured as this is, in the second and third Sermons; 
 insomuch perhaps as to be at a loss for the occasion, 
 scope, and drift of them. But it need not be thought 
 strange that this manner of expression, though familiar 
 with them, and, if not usually carried so far, yet not 
 uncommon amongst ourselves, should want explaining ; 
 since there are several perceptions daily felt and spoken 
 of, which yet it may not be very easy at first view to 
 explicate, to distinguish from all others, and ascertain 
 exactly what the idea or perception is. The many 
 treatises upon the passions are a proof of this; since so 
 many would never have undertaken to unfold their 
 several complications, and trace and resolve them into 
 their principles, if they had thought, what they were 
 endeavouring to show was obvious to every one, who 
 felt and talked of those passions. Thus, though there 
 seems no ground to doubt, but that the generality of 
 mankind have the inward perception expressed so com- 
 monly in that manner by the ancient moralists, more 
 than to doubt whether they have those passions; yet it 
 appeared of use to unfold that inward conviction, and 
 lay it open in a more explicit manner, than I had seen 
 done; especially when there were not wanting persons, 
 who manifestly mistook the whole thing, and so had 
 great reason to express themselves dissatisfied with it. 
 A late author of great and deserved reputation says, 
 •that to place virtue in following nature, is at best a loose 
 ■way of talk. And he has reason to say this, if what I 
 think he intends to express, though with great decency, 
 be true, that scarce any other sense can be put upon 
 those words, but acting as any of the several parts, 
 without distinction, of a man's nature happened most to 
 incline him.* 
 
 Whoever thinks it worth while to consider this matter 
 
 thoroughly, should begin with stating to himself exactly 
 
 the idea of a system, economy, or constitution of any 
 
 (particular nature, or particular any thing: and he will, 
 
 * ReL of Nature Delln. ed. J 724. pp. 22, 23, 
 
Viii PREFACE. 
 
 I suppose, find, that it is a one or a whole, jnade tip of 
 several parts ; but yet, that the several parts even con- 
 sidered as a whole do not complete the idea, unless in 
 the notion of a whole you include the relations and 
 respects which those parts have to each other. Every 
 work both of nature and of art is a system: and as every 
 particular thing, both natural and artificial, is for some 
 use or purpose out of and beyond itself, one may add, 
 to what has been already brought into the idea of a sys- 
 tem, its conduciveness to this one or more ends. Let 
 us instance in a watch — Suppose the several parts of it 
 taken to pieces, and placed apart from each other; let a 
 man have ever so exact a notion of these several parts,, 
 unless he considers the respects and relations which they 
 have to each other, he will not have any thing like the 
 idea of a watch. Suppose these several parts brought 
 together and any how united : neither will he yet, be the 
 union ever so close, have an idea which will bear any 
 resemblance to that of a watch. But let him view those 
 several parts put together, or consider them as to be 
 put together in the manner of a watch; let him form a 
 notion of the relations which those several parts have to- 
 each other — all conducive in their respective ways to 
 this purpose, showing the hour of the day; and then he 
 has the idea of a watch. Thu s it is with regEtrd to the 
 inward frame of man. Appetites, passions, affections,, 
 and the principle of relleclion, considered merely as the 
 several parts of our jnward nature, jdo not at all give us 
 an idea of the system or constitution of this nature; 
 because the constitution is formed by somewhat not yet 
 taken into consideration, namely, by the relations which 
 these several parts have to each other ; the chief of which 
 is the authority of reflection or conscience. It is from 
 c onsiderin g the relations which the several appeHles"and 
 passions in the inward frame have to each other, and,, 
 above all, the supremacy of reflection or conscience, that 
 we get the idea of the system or constitution of human 
 nature. And from the idea itself it will as fully appear, 
 that tliis our nature, i.e. constitution, is adapted to virtue, 
 as from the idea of a watch it appears, that its nature, 
 t. e. constitution or system, is adapted to measure time. . 
 
PREFACE. IX 
 
 "What in fact or event commonly happens is nothing to 
 this question. Every work of art is apt to be out of 
 order: but this is so far from being according to its 
 system, that let the disorder increase, and it will totally 
 destroy it. This is merely by way of explanation, what 
 an economy, system, or constitution is. And thus far 
 the cases are perfectly parallel. If we go further, there 
 is indeed a difference, nothing to the present purpose,, 
 but top important a one ever to be omitted. A macjiine 
 is^inanimate and passive: but we are agents, '^upcon- 
 istitution is put in our own power. We are charged 
 with it ; and therefore are accountable for any disorder 
 or violation of it. ■'0k> 
 
 Thus nothing can possibty'be more contrary to nature 
 than vice ; meaning by nature not only the several parts 
 of our internal frame, but also the constitution of it. 
 Poverty and disgrace, tortures and death, are not so 
 contrary to it. Misery and injustice are indeed equally 
 contrary lo some different parts of our nature taken 
 singly: but injustice is moreover contrary to the whole 
 constitution of the nature. 
 
 If it be asked, whether this constitution be really 
 what those philosophers meant, and whether they would 
 have explained themselves in this manner ; the answer 
 is the same, as if it should be asked, whether a person, 
 who had often used the word resentment, and felt the 
 thing, would have explained this passion exactly in the 
 same manner, in which it is done in one of these Dis- 
 courses. As I have no doubt, but that this is a true 
 account of that passion, which he referred to and intend- 
 ed to express by the word resentment; so I have no 
 doubt, but that this is the true account of the ground of 
 that conviction which they referred to, when they said, 
 vice was contrary to nature. And though it should be 
 thought that they meant no more than that vice was. 
 contrary to the higher and better part of our nature • 
 even this implies such a constitution as I have endea- 
 voured to explain. For the very terms, higher and 
 better, imply a relation or respect of parts to each other; 
 and these relative parts, being in one and the same na- 
 ture, form a constitution, and are the very idea of it. 
 
X PREFACE. 
 
 They had a perception that injustice was contrary to 
 'their nature, and that pain was so also. They observed 
 these two perceptions totally different, not in degree, 
 but in kind: and the reflecting upon each of them, as 
 they thus stood in their nature, wrought a full intuitive 
 conviction, that more was due ancj of right belonged to 
 one of these inward perceptions, than to the other; that 
 it demanded in all cases to govern such a creature as 
 man. So that, upon the whole, this is a fair and . true 
 account of what was the ground of their conviction ; of 
 what they intended to refer to, when they said, virtue 
 <x)nsisted in following nature : a manner of speaking not 
 loose and undeterminate, but clear and distinct, strictly 
 Just and true. 
 
 Though I am persuaded the force of this conviction is 
 felt by almost every one; yet since, considered as an 
 argument and put in words, it appears somewhat abstruse, 
 and since the connexion of it is broken in the three first 
 Sermons, it may not be amiss to give the reader ihe 
 whole argument here in one view. 
 
 Mankind has various instincts and principles of action, 
 as brute creatures have; some leading most directly and 
 immediately to the good of the community, and some 
 most directly to private good. 
 
 Man has several which brutes have not; particularly 
 reflection or conscience, an approbation of some princi- 
 ples or actions, and disapprobation of others. 
 
 Brutes obey their instincts or principles of action, 
 according to certain rules ; suppose the constitution of 
 their body, and the objects around them. 
 
 The generality of mankind also obey their instincts 
 and principles, all of them; those propensions we call 
 good, as well as the bad, according to the same rules; 
 namely, the constitution of their body, and the external 
 circumstances which they are in. [Therefore it is not 
 a true representation of mankind to affirm, that they 
 are wholly governed by self-love, the love of power, and 
 sensual appetites: since, as on the one hand they are 
 often actuated by these, without any regard to right or 
 wrong; so on the other it is manifest fact, that the same 
 persons, the generality, are frequently influenced by 
 
PREFACE. XI 
 
 friendship, compassion, gratitude ; and even a general 
 abhorrence of what is base, and liking of what is fair 
 and just, takes its turn amongst the other motives of 
 action. This is the partial inadequate notion of human 
 nature treated of in the first Discourse : and it is by this 
 nature, if one may speak so, that the world is in fact 
 influenced, and kept in that tolerable- order, in which it 
 is.] _ . _ 
 
 Brutes in acting according to "the rules before men- 
 tioned, their bodily constitution and circumstances, act 
 suitably to their whole nature. [It is however to be 
 distinctly noted, that the reason why we affirm this is 
 not merely that brutes in fact act so;-*Jor this alone, 
 however universal, does not at all determine, whether 
 such course of action'be correspondent to their whole na- 
 ture : but the reason of the assertion is, that as in acting 
 thus they plainly act conformably to somewhat in their 
 nature, so, from all observations we are able to make 
 upon them, there does not appear the least ground to 
 imagine them to have any thing else in their nature, 
 which requires a different rule or course of action.] 
 
 Mankind also in acting thus would act suitably to 
 their whole nature, if no more were to be said of man's 
 nature than what has been now said ; if that, as it is a true, 
 were also a complete, adequate account of our nature. 
 
 But that is not a complete account of man's nature. 
 Somewhat further must be brought in to give us an ad- 
 equate notion of it; namely, that one of those principles 
 of action, conscience or reflection, compared with the 
 rest as they all stand ' together in the nature of man, 
 plainly bears upon it marks of authority over all the rest, 
 and claims the absolute direction of them all, to allow or 
 forbid their gratification: a disapprobation of reflection 
 being in itself a principle manifestly superior to a mere 
 propension. And the conclusion is, that to allow no 
 more to this superior principle or part of our nature, 
 than to other parts ; to let it govern and guide only occa- 
 sionally in common with the rest, as its turn happens to 
 ■come, from the temper and circumstances one happens 
 to be ih; this is not to act conformably to the constitu- 
 tion of man: neither can any human creature be said to 
 
Xll PREFACE. 
 
 act conformably to his constitution of nature, unless he- 
 allows to that superior principle the absolute authority 
 which is due to it. And this conclusion is abundantly 
 confirmed from hence, that one may determine what 
 course of action the economy of man's nature requires, 
 without so much as knowing- in what degrees of strength 
 the several principles prevail, or which of them have 
 actually the greatest influence. 
 
 The practical reason of insisting so much upon this 
 natural authority of the principle of reflection or con- 
 science is, that it seems in great measure ovei-looked by 
 many, who are by no means the worst sort of men. It 
 is tiiought sufficient to abstain from gross wickedness, 
 and to be hunfSie and kind to such as happen to come 
 in their way. Whereas in reality the very constitution 
 of our nature requires, that we bring our whole conduct 
 before this superior faculty; wait its determination; en- 
 force upon ourselves its authority, and make it the busi- 
 ness of our lives, as it is absolutely the whole business 
 of a moral agent, to conform ourselves to it. This is 
 the true meaning of that ancient precept, Reverence thy- 
 self. 
 
 The not taking into consideration this authority, which 
 is implied in^the idea of reflex approbation or disappro- 
 bation, seems a material deficiency or omission in lord 
 Shaftesbury's Inquiry concerning Virtue. He has shown 
 beyond all contradiction, that virtue is naturally the in- 
 terest or happiness, and vice the misery, of such a crea- 
 ture as man, placed in the circumstances which we are 
 in this world. But suppose there are particular excep- 
 tions: a case which this author was unwilhng to put, and 
 yet surely it is to be put: or suppose a case which he has 
 put and determined, that of a sceptic not convinced of 
 this happy tendency of virtue, or being of a contrary 
 opmion. His determination is, that it would be without 
 remedy. * One may say more explicitly, that leaving out 
 the authority of reflex approbation or disapprobation, 
 such a one would be under an obligation to act vicious- 
 ly ;_ since interest, one's own happiness, is a manifest 
 obligation, and "there is not supposed to be any otKep 
 
 ♦ Characteristics, vol. ii. p. 69. 
 
PREFACE. XIU 
 
 obligation in the case. "But does it much mend the 
 matter, to take in that natural authority of reflection? 
 There indeed would be an obligation to virtue ; but 
 would not the obligation from supposed interest on the 
 side of vice remain .P" If it should, yet to be under two 
 contrary obligations, i. e, under none at all, would not 
 be exactly the same, as to be under a formal obligation 
 to be vicious, or to be in circumstances in which the 
 constitution of man's nature plainly required that vice 
 should be preferred. But the obligation on the side ol 
 interest really does not remain. For the natural autho- 
 rity of the principle of reflection is an obligation the 
 most near and intimate, the most certain and known : 
 •whereas the contrary obligation can at the utmost appear 
 no more than probable ; since no man can be certain in 
 any circumstances that vice is his interest in the present 
 world, much less can he be certain against another: and 
 thus the certain obhgation would entirely supersede and 
 destroy the uncertain one; which yet would have been 
 of real force without the former. 
 
 In truth, the taking in this consideration totally 
 changes the whole state of the case ; and shows, what this 
 author does not seem to have been aware of, that the 
 greatest degree of scepticism which he thought possible 
 will still leave men under the strictest moral obligations, 
 whatever their opinion be concerning the happiness of 
 virtue. For that mankind upon reflection felt an appro- 
 bation of what was good, and disapprobation of the con- 
 trary, he thought a plain matter of fact, as it undoubtedly 
 is, which none could deny, but from mere affectation. 
 Take in then that authority and obligation, which is a 
 constituent part of this reflex approbation, and it will 
 undeniably follow, though a man should doubt of every 
 thing else, yet, that he would still remain under the 
 nearest and niost certain obligation to the practice of 
 virtue; an obligation implied in the very idea of virtue, in 
 the very idea of reflex approbation. 
 
 And how little influence soever this obligation alone 
 can be expected to have in fact upon mankind, yet one 
 may appeal even to interest and self-love, and ask, since 
 from man's nature, condition, and the shortness of life, 
 
XIV PREFACE. 
 
 80 little, so very little indeed, can possibly in any case be 
 gained by vice; whether it be so prodigious a thing t» 
 sacrifice that little to the most intimate of all obligations; 
 and which a man cannot transgress without being self- 
 condemned, and, unless he has corrupted his nature, 
 without real self-dislike: this question, I say, may be 
 askqd, even upon supposition that the prospect of a fu- 
 tufe life were ever so uncertain. 
 
 *rhe observation, that man is thus by his very nature 
 a law to himself, pursued to its just consequences, is of 
 the utmost importance; because from it it will follow, that 
 though men should, through stupidity or speculative scep- 
 ticism, be ignorant of, or disbelieve, any authority in the 
 universe to punish the violation of this law; yet, if there 
 should be such authority, they would be as really liable 
 to punishment, as though they had been beforehand 
 convinced, that such punishment would follow. For in 
 whatever sense we understand justice, even supposing, 
 what I think would be very presumptuous to assert, that 
 the end of divine punishment is no other than that of 
 civil punishment, namely, to prevent future mischief; 
 upon this bold supposition, ignorance or disbelief of the 
 sanction would by no means exempt even from this jus- 
 tice: because it is not foreknowledge of the punishment 
 which renders us obnoxious to it ; but merely violating 
 a known obligation. 
 
 And here it comes in one's way to take notice of a 
 manifest error or mistake in the author now cited, un- 
 less perhaps he has incautiously expressed himself so as 
 to be misunderstood; namely, that it is malice only, and 
 not goodness, which can make vs afraid* Whereas in 
 reality, goodness is the natural and just object of the 
 greatest fear to an ill man. Malice may be appeased 
 or satiated; humour may dhange, but goodness is a 
 fixed, steady, immovable principle of action. If either 
 of the former holds the sword of justice, there is plainly 
 ground for the greatest of crimes to hope for impunity : 
 but if it be goodness, there can be no possible hope, 
 whilst the reasons of things, or the ends of government, 
 call for punishment. Thus every one sees how much 
 
 L "" Cliaracterislics, vol. i. p. 30 
 
PRKPACB. XV 
 
 greater chance of impuni«^y an ill man has in a partial 
 administration, than in a just and upright one. It is 
 said, that the interest or good of the whole must be tfie 
 interest of the universal Being, and that he can have no 
 other. Be it so. This author has proved, that vice is 
 naturally the misery of mankind in this world. Conse- 
 quently it was for the good of the whole that it should 
 be so. What shadow of reason then is there to assert, 
 that this may not be the case hereafter .P Danger of 
 future punishment (and if there be danger, there is 
 ground of fsar) no more supposes malice, than the pre- 
 sent feeling of punishment does. 
 
 The Sermon upon the character of Balaam, and that 
 upon Self-deceit, both relate to one subject. I am per- 
 suaded, that a very great part of the wickedness of the 
 world is, one way or other, owing to the self-partiality, 
 self-flattery, and self-deceit, endeavoured there to be 
 laid open and explained. It is to be observed amongst 
 persons of the lowest rank, in proportion to their com- 
 pass of thought, as much as amongst men of education 
 and improvement. It seems, that people are capable of 
 being thus artful with themselves, in proportion as they 
 are capable of being so with others. Those who have 
 taken notice that there is really such a thing, namely, 
 plain falseness and insincerity in men with regard to 
 themselves, will readily see the drift and design of these 
 Discourses: and nothing that I can add will explain the 
 design of them to him, who has not beforehand remark- 
 ed, at least, somewhat of the character. And yet the 
 admonitions they contain may be as much wanted by 
 such a person, as by others ; for it is to be noted, that a 
 man may be entirely possessed by this unfairness of 
 mind, without having the least speculative notion what 
 the thing is. 
 
 The account given of Resentment in the eighth Sermon 
 is introductory to the following one upon Forgiveness of 
 Injuries. It may possibly have appeared to some, at 
 first sight, a strange assertion, that injury is tHe only 
 natural object of settled resentment, or that men do not 
 in fact: r-sei t deliberately any thing but under this ap- 
 pearance of injury. But I must desire the reader not 
 
Xvi PREFACE. 
 
 to take any assertion alone by itself, but to consider the 
 whole of what is said upon it: because this is necessary, 
 not only in order to judge of the truth of it, but often, 
 such is the nature of language, to see the^very meaning 
 of the assertion. Particularly as to this,jnjury and in- 
 justice is, in the Sermon itself, explained to mean, not 
 only the more gross and shocking instances of wicked- 
 ness, but also contempt, scorn, neglect, any sort of 
 disagreeable behaviour towards a person, which he 
 thinks other than what is due to him. And the general 
 notion of injury or wrong plainly comprehends this, 
 though the words are mostly confined to the higher de- 
 grees of it. 
 
 Forgiveness of injuries is one of the very few moral 
 obligations which has been disputed. But the proof, 
 that it is really an obligation, what our nature and con- 
 dition require, seems very obvious, were it only from 
 the consideration, that revenge is doing hatm merely for 
 harm's sake. And as to th^ love of our* enemies: re- 
 sentment cannot supersede the obligation to universal 
 benevolence, unless they are in tjie nature of the thing 
 inconsistent, which they plainly are not* 
 
 This divine precept, to forgive injuries and love our 
 enemies, though to be met with in Gentile moralists, 
 yet is in a peculiar sense a precept of Christianity ; as 
 our Saviour has insisted more upon it than upon any 
 other single virtue. One reason of this doubtless is, 
 that it so peculiarly becomes an imperfect, faulty crea- 
 ture. But it may be observed also, that a virtuous 
 temper of mind, consciousness of innocence, and good 
 meaning towards every body, and a strong feeling of 
 injustice and injury, may itself, such is the imperfection 
 of our virtue, lead a person to violate this obligation, if 
 he be not upon his guard. And it may well be sup- 
 posed, that this is another reason why it is so much 
 insisted upon by him, who knew what was in man. 
 
 The chief design of the eleventh Discourse is to state 
 the notion oj" self-love and disinterestedness, in order 
 to show that benevolence is not more unfriendly to 
 self-love, than any other particular aftection whatever. 
 
 • Paee 106. 
 
PREFACE. XTU 
 
 There is a strange aflfectation in many people of explain- 
 ing away all particular affections, and representing the 
 whole of life as nothing but one continued exercise of 
 self-love. Hence arises that surprising confusion and 
 perplexity in the Epicureans* of old, Hobbes, the 
 author of Reflections, Sentences, et Maximes Morales, and 
 this whole set of writers ; the confusion of calUng actions 
 interested which are done in contradiction to the most 
 manifest known interest, merely for the gratification of 
 a present passion. Now all this confusion might easily 
 be avoided, by stating to ourselves wherein the idea of 
 self-love in general consists, as distinguished from all 
 particular movements towards particular external ob- 
 jects; the appetites of sense, resentment, compassion, 
 curiosity, ambition, and the rest.t When this is done, 
 if the words selfish and interested cannot be parted with, 
 but must be applied to every thing ; yet, to avoid such 
 total confusion of all languEige, let the distinction be 
 made by epithets : and the first may be called cool or 
 eettled selfishness, and the other passionate or sensual 
 selfishness. But the most natural way of speaking 
 plainly is, to calFfhe^first only,^ self-love, and the actions 
 proceeding from it, interested : and to say of the latter, 
 that they are not love to ourselves, but movements 
 towards somewhat external: honour, power, the harm 
 or good of another : and that the pursuit of these exter- 
 nal objects, so far as it proceeds from these movements 
 (for it may proceed from self-lovet), is no otherwise 
 interested, than as every action of every creature must, 
 from the nature of the thing, be ; for no one can act but 
 from a'desire, or choice, or preference of his own. 
 
 S.el£JiJKe-and any particular passion, may be joined 
 together; and from this complication, it becomes impos- 
 
 * One need only look into Torquatus's account of the Epicurean system, In Cice- 
 ro's first book De Finibus, to see in what a surprising manner this was done by 
 them. Thus the desire of praise, and of being beloved, he explains to be no other 
 than desire of safety : regard to our country, even in the most virtuous character, to 
 be nothing but regard to ourselves. The author of Reflections, Sfc. Morales, says. 
 Curiosity proceeds from interest or pride ; which pride also would doubtless have 
 been explained to be self-love. Page 85, ed. 1725. As if there were no such pas- 
 sions in mankind as desire of esteem, or of being beloved, or of knowledge. 
 Hobbes's account of the affections of good-will and pity are instances of the same 
 kind. 
 
 + Page 126, &c. % See the note, page go. 
 
 B 
 
XVIU PREFACE. 
 
 sible in numberless instances to determine precisely,, 
 how far an action, perhaps even of one's own, has for 
 its principle general self-love, or some particular passion. 
 But this need create no confusion in the ideas them- 
 selves of self-love and particular passions. We dis- 
 tinctly discern what one is, and what the other are: 
 though we may be uncertain how far one or the other 
 influences us. And though, from this uncertainty, it 
 cannot but be that there will be ditferent opinions con- 
 cerning mankind, as more or less governed by interest; 
 and some will ascribe actions to self-love, which others 
 will ascribe to particular passions: yet it is absurd to 
 say that mankind are wholly actuated by either ; since 
 it is manifest that both have their influence. For as, on 
 the one hand, men form a general notion of interest, 
 some placing it in one thing, and some in another, and 
 have a considerable regard to it throughout the course 
 of their life, which is owing to self-love ; so, on the 
 other hand, they are often set on work by the particular 
 passions themselves, and a considerable part of life is 
 spent in the actual gratification of them, i. e. is employ- 
 ed, not by self-love, but by the passions. 
 
 Besides, the very idea of an interested pursuit neces- 
 sarily presupposes particular passions or appetites ; 
 since the very idea of interest or happiness consists in 
 this, that an appetite or afiection enjoys its object. It is 
 not "because we love ourselves that we find delight in: 
 such and such objects, but because we have particular 
 affections towards them. Take away these affiections, 
 and you leave self-love absolutely nothing at all to em- 
 ploy itself about;* no end or object for it to pursue, 
 excepting only that of avoiding pain. Indeed the Epi- 
 cureans, who maintained that absence of pain was the 
 highest happiness, might, consistently with themselves, 
 deny all affection, and, if they had so pleased, every 
 sensual appetite too : but the very idea of interest or 
 happiness other than absence of pain implies particular 
 appetites or passions ; these being necessary to constitute 
 that interest or happiness. 
 
 The observation, that benevolence is no more disin- 
 
 * Page 128. 
 
PREFACE. XIX 
 
 terested than any of the common particular passions, 
 seems in itself worth being taken notice of; but is insisted 
 upon to obviate that scorn, which one sees rising upon 
 the faces of people who are said to know the world, when 
 mention is made of a disinterested, generous, or public- 
 spirited action. The truth of that observation might be 
 made appear in a more formal manner of proof: ' for 
 whoever will consider all the possible respects and re- 
 lations which any particular affection can have to self- 
 love and private interest, will, I think, see demonstrably, 
 that benevolence is not in any respect more at variance 
 with self-love, than any other particular affection what- 
 ever, but that it is in every respect, at least, as friendly 
 to it. 
 
 IjLthe_observation be true, it follows, that self-love and 
 benevolence,, virtue and interest, are not to be opposed, 
 but only to be distinguished from each other; in the same 
 way as virtue and any. other particular affection, love of 
 arts, suppose, are to be distinguished. Every thing is 
 what it is, and not another thing. The goodness or 
 badness of actions does not arise from hence, that the 
 epithet, interested or disinterested, may be applied to 
 them, any more than that any other indifferent epithet, 
 suppose inquisitive or jealous, may or may not be ap- 
 plied to them ; not from their being attended with present 
 or future pleasure or pain ; but from their being what 
 they are; namely, what becomes such creatures as we 
 are, what the state of the case requires, or the contrary. 
 Or in other words, we may judge and determine, that 
 an action is morally good or evil, before we so much as 
 consider, whether it be interested or disinterested. This 
 consideration no more comes in to determine whethei 
 an action be virtuous, than to determine whether it be 
 resentful. Self-love in its due degree is as just and 
 morally good, as any affection whatever. Benevolence 
 towards particular persons may be to a degree of weak- 
 ness, and so be blameable : and disinterestedness is so 
 far from being in itself commendable, that the utmost 
 possible depravity which we can in imagination conceive, 
 is that of disinterested cruelty. 
 
 * Page 13), &c. 
 H2 
 
XX PREFACE. 
 
 Neither does there appear any reason to _wish self-love 
 were weaker in the generality of the world than it is. 
 The influence which it has seems plainly owing to its 
 being constant and habitual, which it cannot but be, and 
 not to the degree or strength of it. Every caprice of the 
 imagination, every curiosity of the understanding, every 
 affection of the heart, js perpetually showing its weak- 
 ness, by prevailing over it. Men daily, hourly sacrifice 
 the greatest known interest, to fancy, inquisitiveness, 
 love, or hatred, any vagrant inclination. The thing to 
 be lamented is, not that men have so great regard to 
 their own good or inter;est in the present world, for they 
 have not enough ;* but that they have so little to the 
 good of others. And this seems plainly owing to their 
 being so much engeiged in the gratification of particular 
 passions unfriendly to benevolence, and which happen 
 to be most prevalent in them, much more than to self- 
 love. As a proof of this may be observed, that there is 
 no character more void of friendship, gratitude, natural 
 aflfection, love to their country, common justice, or more 
 equally and uniformly hard-hearted, than the abandoned 
 
 in, what is called, the way of pleasure hard-hearted 
 
 and totally without feeling in behalf of others; except 
 when they cannot escape the sight of distress, and so are 
 interrupted by it in their pleasures. And yet it is ridicu- 
 lous to call such an abandoned course of pleasure interest- 
 ed, when the person engaged in it kndws beforehand, 
 goes on under the feeling and apprehension, that it will be 
 as ruinous to himself, as to those who depend upon him. 
 
 Upon Ihe whole, if the generality of mankind were to 
 cultivate within themselves the principle of self-love ; if 
 they were to apcustom themselves often to set down 
 and consider, what was the greatest happiness they were 
 capable, of attaining for themselves in this life, and if self- 
 love were so str-ong and prevalent, as that they would 
 uniformly pursue this their supposed chief temporal good, 
 without being diverted from it by any particular passion? 
 it would inanifestly prevent numberless follies and vices. 
 This was in a great measure the Epicurean system of 
 philosophy. It is indeed by no means the religious or 
 
 * Page 34. 
 
PREFACE. Xxi 
 
 even moral institution of life. Xet^with all the mistakes 
 men would fall_iatQ about interest, it would be less mis- 
 ohievous than the extravagances of mere appetite, will, 
 and pleasure : for certainly self-love, though confined to 
 the interest of this life, is, of the two, a much better guide 
 tlian passion,* which has absolutely no boun4 nor mea- 
 sure, but what is set to it by this self-love, or moral 
 considerations. 
 
 From the distinction above made between self-love, 
 ajQ.djhe several particular principles or affections in our 
 nature,^ we may see how good ground there was forlihat 
 assertion, maintained by the several ancient schools of 
 philosophy against the Epicureans, namely, that virtue 
 is to be pursued as an end, eligible in and for itself. 
 For, if there be any principles or affections in the mind 
 of man distinct from self-love, that the things those 
 principles tend towards, or that the objects of those 
 affections are, each of them, in themselves eligible, to 
 be pursued upon its own account, and to be rested in 
 as an end, is implied in the very idea of such principle 
 or affection.t They indeed asserted much higher things 
 of virtue, and with very good reason ; but to say thus 
 much of it, that it is to be pursued for itself, is to say no 
 more of it, than may truly be said of the object of every 
 natural affection whatever. 
 
 The question, which was a few years ago disputed in 
 France, concerning the love of God, which was there 
 called enthusiasm, as it will every where by the gener- 
 ality of the world; this question, I say, answers in 
 religion to that old one in morals now mentioned. And 
 both of them are, I think, fully determined by the same 
 observation, namely, that the very nature of affection, 
 the idea itself, necessarily implies resting in its object as 
 an end. 
 
 I shall not here add any thing further to what I have 
 said in the two Discourses upon that most important 
 subject, but only this : that if we are constituted such 
 sort of creatures, as from our very nature to feel certain 
 affections or movements of mind, upon the sight or con- 
 templation of the meanest inanimate part of the creation, 
 
 * p. 44. t p. 155. 
 
XXll PREFACE. 
 
 for the flowers of the field have their beauty; certainly 
 there must be somewhat due to him himself, who is the 
 Author and Cause of all things ; who is more intimately 
 present to us than any thing else can be, and with whom 
 we have a nearer and more constant intercourse, than 
 we can have with any creature: there must be some 
 movements of mind and heart which correspond to his 
 perfections, or of which those perfections are the natural 
 object: and that when we are commanded to love the 
 Lord our God with all our heart, and with all our mind, 
 and with all our soul; somewhat more must be meant 
 than merely that we live in hope of rewards or fear of 
 punishments from him; somewhat more than this must 
 be intended: though these regards themselves are most 
 just and reasonable, and absolutely necessary to be often 
 recollected in such a world as this. 
 
 It may be proper just to advertise the reader, that he 
 is not to look for any particular reason for the choice ot 
 the greatest part of these Discourses ; their being taken 
 from amongst many others, preached in the same place, 
 through a course of eight years, being in great measure 
 accidental. Neither is he to expect to find any other 
 connexion between them, than that uniformity of thought 
 and design, which will always be found in the writings 
 of the same person, when he writes with simplicity and 
 in earnest. 
 
 stanhope, Sept. IS, 1720. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 / 
 
 UPON HUMAN NATURE, OR MAN CONSIDERED AS A. 
 MORAL AGENT. 
 
 Sermon I.— UPON THE SOCIAL NATURE OF MAN ... ?5 
 
 For as we have many members in one body, and all members have not 
 
 the same office : so we being many are one body in Christ, and every 
 
 one members one of another. — Rom. xii. 4, 3. 
 
 Sermons II. III.— UPON THE NATURAL SUPREMACY OF CON- 
 SCIENCE 37, 47 
 
 For when the Gentiles, which have not tlie law, do by nature the things 
 contained in tlie law, these, having not ihe law, are a law to them- 
 selves. — Rom. ii. 14. 
 
 Skrjion IV.— upon the GOVERNMENT OF THE TONGUE . . 53 
 
 If any man among you seem to be religious, and bridletli not his tongue, 
 but deceiveth his own heart, this man's religion is vain. — Jam. i. 26. 
 
 Serjions V. VI.— UPON COMPASSION 64, 74 
 
 Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep.— 
 Rom. xii. lo. 
 
 Sermon VII.— UPON Tllft CHARACTER OF BALAAM ... 82 
 
 Let me die the death of the righteous, and lei my last end be like his.— 
 Numb, xxiii. 10. 
 
 Sermons VIH. IX.— UPON RESENTMENT, AND FORGIVENESS OF 
 INJURIES . > 92, 101 
 
 Ye have heard that it hath been said. Thou shalt love thy neighbour, and 
 hate thine enemy : but I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them 
 tliat curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them that 
 despitefuUy use you and persecute you. — Matt. v. 43, 44. 
 
 Sermon X.— UPON SELF-DECEIT T 113 
 
 And Nathan said to David, Thou art the man. — 2 Sam. xii. 7. 
 
 Sermons XI. XII.— UPON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR . 125, 140 
 And if there be any other commandment, it is briefly comprehended in 
 this saying, namely.. Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.— 
 Rom. xiii. 9. . 
 
 SermomsXHI. XIV.— UPON PIETV, OR THE LOVE OF GOD 154,163 
 
 Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy 
 soul, and with all thy mind. — Matt. xxii. 37. 
 
XXIV CONTENTS. 
 
 Page- 
 
 Skbmon XV.— UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN .... J73' 
 
 When I applied mine lieart to know wisdom, and to see the business that 
 is done upon the earth : then I beheld all the work of God, tliat a man 
 cannot find out the work that is done under the sun : because though 
 a man labour to seek it out, yet he shall not find it; yea further, 
 though a wise man think to know it, yet shall he not be able to find 
 it. — Eccles. viii. 16, 17. 
 
 SIX SERMONS 
 
 PREACHED UPON PUBLIC OCCASIONS. 
 
 Sermon I.— PREACHED BEFORE THE SOCIETY FOR PROPAGATING 
 THE GOSPEL 184 
 
 And this gospel of the kingdom shall be preached in all the world, for a 
 witness unto all naiions. — Matt. xxiv. 14. 
 
 Sermon 11— PREACHED BEFORE THE LORD MAYOR, ALDERMEN, 
 AND SHERIFFS, AND THE GOVERNORS OF THE SEVERAL 
 HOSPITALS OF THE CITY OF LONDON 197 
 
 The rich and poor meet together : the Lord is the maker of them all.— 
 Prov. xxil 2. 
 
 Sermox hi.- PREACHED BEFORE THE HOUSE OF LORDS, JAN. 
 30, 17-JO-41 211 
 
 And not using your liberty for a cloak of maliciousness, but as the ser- 
 vants of God. — 1 Pet. ii. 16. 
 
 Skrmon IV.— PREACHED AT THE ANNUAL MEETING OF THE 
 
 CHARITY CHILDREN AT CHRIST CHURCH .... 225- 
 
 Train up a child in the way he .should go : and when he is old, he will 
 not depart from it. — Prov! xxii. 6. 
 
 Sermon V.— PREACHED BEFORE THE HOUSE OF LORDS ON THE 
 ANNIVERSARY OF HIS MAJESTY'S ACCESSION TO THE THRONE 841- 
 
 I exhort, that, first of all, supplications, prayers, intercessions, and 
 giving of thanks, be made for all men ; for kings, and for all that are 
 in authority ; that we may lead a fiuiet and peaceable life, in ail god- 
 liness and honesty. — 1 Tim. ii. 1, -2. 
 
 Skn.Mox VI.— PREACHED BEFORE THE GOVERNORS OF THE LON- 
 DON INFIRMARY SSO 
 
 And above all things have fervent charity among yourselves; for charity 
 shall cover the multitude of sins. — I Pet. iv. 8. 
 
 A CHARGE TO THE CLERGY OF THE DIOCESE OF DURHAM, 
 1731 ...,..,.. .... 860 
 
 CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN DR BUTLER AND DR CLARKE 284 
 
SERMON I. 
 
 UPON HUMAN NATURE, 
 
 War as we have many members in one body, and all members have 
 not the same office : so loe being many are one body in Christ, and 
 every one members one of another. — Rom. xii. 4, 5. 
 
 The Epistles in the New Testament have all of them a 
 particular feference to the condition and usages of the 
 Christian world at the time they were written. There- 
 fore as they cannot be thoroughly understood, unless 
 that condition and those usages are known and attended 
 to : so further, though they be known, yet if they be dis- 
 continued or changed; exhortations, precepts, and il- 
 lusti-ations of things, which refer to such circumstances 
 now ceased or altered, cannot at this time be urged in 
 that manner, and with that force which they were to the 
 primitive Christians. Thus the text now before us, in 
 its first intent and design, relates to the decent manage- 
 ment of those extraordinary gifts which were then in 
 the church,* but which are now totally ceased. And 
 even as to the allusion that we are one body in Christ; 
 though what the Apostle here intends is equally true of 
 Christians in all circumstances ; and the consideration of 
 it is plainly still an additional motive, over and above 
 moral considerations, to the discharge of the several 
 duties and offices of a Christian: yet it is manifest this 
 allusion must have appeared with much greater force to 
 those, who, by the many difficulties they went through 
 for the sake of their religion, were led to keep always in 
 view the relation they stood in to their Saviour, who had 
 undergone the same; to those, who, from the idolatries 
 of Jill around them, and their ill-treatment, were taught 
 
 * 1 Cor. xii. 
 
26 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [Saul. 
 
 to consider themselves as not of the world in which they 
 lived, but as a distinct society of themselves ; with laws 
 and ends* and principles of life and action, quite contrary 
 to those which the world professed themselves at that 
 time influenced by. Hence the relation of a Christian 
 was by them considered as nearer than that of affinity 
 and blood; and they almost literally esteemed themselves 
 as members one of another. 
 
 It cannot indeed possibly be denied, that our being 
 God's creatures, and virtue being the natural law we are 
 born under, and the whole constitution of man being 
 plainly adapted to it, are prior obligations to piety and 
 virtue, than the consideration that God sent his Son into 
 the world to save it, and the motives which arise from 
 the peculiar relation of Christians, as members one of 
 another under Christ our head. However, though all 
 this be allowed, as it expressly is by the inspired writers ; 
 yet it is manifest that Christians at the time of the reve- 
 lation, and immediately after, could not but insist mostly 
 upon considerations of this latter kind. 
 
 These observations show the original particular refer- 
 ence of the text; and the peculiar force with which the 
 thing intended by the allusion in it, must have been felt 
 by the primitive Christian world. They likewise afford 
 a reason for treating it at this time in a more general way. 
 
 The relation which the several parts or members of 
 the natural body have to each other and to the whole 
 body, is here compared to the relation which each par- 
 ticular person in society has to other particular persons 
 and to the whole society; and the latter is intended to 
 be illustrated by the former. And if there be a likeness 
 between these two relations, the consequence is ob- 
 vious: that the latter shows us we were intended to do 
 good to others, as the former shows us that the several 
 members of the natural body were intended to be instru- 
 ments of good to each other and to the whole body. But 
 as there is scarce any ground for a comparison between 
 society and the mere material body, this without the 
 mind being a dead unactive thing; much less can the 
 comparison be carried to any length. And since the 
 stpostle speaks of the several members as having distinct 
 
Sen.!.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 27 
 
 offices, which implies the mind ; it cannot be thought an 
 unallowable liberty, instead of the body and its members, 
 to substitute the whoU nature of man, and all the variety 
 of internal principles which belong to it. And then the 
 comparison, will be between the nature of man as re- 
 specting self, and tending to private good, his own pre- 
 servation and happiness ; and the nature of man as hav- 
 ing respect to society, and tending to promote public 
 good, the happiness of that society. These ends do in- 
 deed perfectly coincide ; and to aim at public and private 
 good are so far from being inconsistent, that they mutu- 
 ally promote each other : yet in the following discourse 
 they must be considered as entirely distinct; otherwise 
 the nature of man as tending to one, or as tending to 
 the other, cannot be compared. There can no com- 
 parison be made, without considering the things com- 
 pared as distinct and different. 
 
 From this review and comparison of the nature of 
 man as respecting self, and as respecting society, it will 
 plainly appear, that there are as real and the same kind 
 of indications in human nature, that toe were made for so- 
 ciety and to do good to our fellow creatures; as that we 
 were intended to take care of our own life and health and 
 private good: and that the same objections lie against one 
 of these assertions, as against the other. For, 
 
 First, There is a natural principle of benevolence* in 
 
 * Suppose a man of learning to lie writing a grave book upon human nature, and 
 to show in several parts of it ttiat he had an insight into the subject he was consider- 
 ing ; amongst other things, the following one would require to be accounted for ; the 
 appearance of benevolence or good-will in men towards each other in the instances 
 of natural relation, and in others.* Cautious of being deceived with outward show, 
 )»e retires within himself to see exactly, what that is in the mind of man from whence 
 this appearance proceeds ; and, upon deep nflection, asserts the principle in the 
 mind to be only the love of power, and deliplit in the exercise of it. Would not 
 every body think here was a mistake of one wind for another ? that the philosopher 
 was contemplating and accounting for some otliiT human actions, some other beha- 
 viour of man to man ? And could any one he Uioronghly satisfied, that what is com- 
 monly called benevolence or good will was rfiiilythe affection meant, but only by 
 being made to understand that this learned pi ^^(lll Imd a general hypothesis, to which 
 the a|,pearance of good-will could no otherwise hv reconciled ? That what has thi« 
 appearance is often nothing but ambition; thai delight in superiority often (suppose 
 always) mixes itself with benevolence, only makes it more specious to call it ambi- 
 tion than hunger, of the two : but in reality that passion does no more account for 
 the whole appearances of good-will than this appetite does. Is there not often the 
 -ippearance of one man's wishing that good to another, which he knows himself un- 
 able to procure him ; and rejoicing in it, though bestowed by a third person ? And 
 tan love of power any way possibly come in to account for this desire or delight i 
 
 * Hobbeo of Human Nature, c. ix. ^ 7 
 
28 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [Seb. I. 
 
 man; which is in some degree to society, what self-kfoe 
 is to the individual. And if there be in mankind any 
 disposition to friendship ; if there be any such thing as 
 compassion, for compassion is momentary love ; if there 
 be any such thing as the paternal or filial affections ; if 
 there be any affection in human nature, the object and 
 end of which is the good of another; this is itself bene- 
 volence, or the love of another. Be it ever so short, be 
 it in ever so low a degree, or ever so unhappily con- 
 fined ; it proves the assertion, and points out what we 
 were designed for, as really as though it were in a higher 
 degree and more extensive. I must however remind 
 you that though benevolence and self-love are different; 
 though the former tends most directly to public good, 
 and the latter to private : yet they are so perfectly coin- 
 
 la there not often the appearance of men's distinguishing between two or more per- 
 sons, preferring one before another, to do good to, in cases where love of power can- 
 not in the least account for the distinction and preference? For this principle can 
 no otherwise distinguish between objects, than as it is a greater instance and exertion 
 of power to do good to one rather than to another. Again, suppose good-will in tlie 
 mind of man to be nothing but delight in the exercise of power : men might indeed 
 be restrained by distant and accidental consideration ; but these restraints being re- 
 moved, they would have a disposition to, and delight in mischief as an exercise and 
 proof of power : and this disposition and delight would arise from, or be the same 
 principle in the mind, as a disposition to, and delight in charity. Thus cnielty, as 
 distinct from envy and resentment, would be exactly the same in the mind of man as 
 good-will : that one lends to the happiness, the other to the misery of our fellow 
 creatures, is, it seems, merely an accidental circumstance, which the mind has not 
 the least regard to. These are the absurdities which even men of capacity run into, 
 when they have occasion to belie their nature, and will perversely disclaim that 
 image of God which was originally stamped upon it, the traces of which, however 
 faint, are plainly discernible upon the mind of man. 
 
 If any person can in earnest doubt, whether there be such a thing as good-will in 
 one man towards another ; (for the question is not concerning either the degree or 
 extensiveness of it, but concerning the affection itself:) let it be observed, that 
 whether man be thus, or othenoise conalituted, what is the inward frame in this parti- 
 cvlar, is a mere question of fact or natural history, not proveable immediately by 
 reason. It is therefore to be judged of and determined in the same way other fects 
 or matters of natural history are : l)y appealing to the external senses, or inward per- 
 ceptions, respectively, as the matter under consideration is cognizable by one or the 
 other : by arguing from acknowledged facts and actions ; for a great number of ac- 
 tions in the same kind, in different circumstances, and respecting different objects 
 will prove to a certainty, what principles they do not, and, to the greatest probability, 
 what principles they do proceed from: and lastly, by the testimony of mankind. 
 Now that there is some degree of benevolence amongst men, may be as strongly and 
 plainly proved in all these vrays, as it could possibly ue proved, supposing there was 
 this affection in our nature. And should any one think fit to assert, that resentment 
 in the mind of man was absolutely nothing but reiisonable concern for our own safety, 
 the falsity of this, and what is the real nature of that passion, could be shown in no 
 other way than those in which it may be shown, that there is such a thing in some 
 degree as real good- will in man towards man. It is sufficient that the see£ of it be 
 implanted in our nature by God. There is, it is owned, much left for us to do upon 
 our own heart and temper ; to cultivate, to improve, to call it forth, to exercise it iu 
 a steady, uniform manner. This is our work ; this is virtue and religion. 
 
Sek.1.] upon human nature. 29 
 
 cident, that the greatest satisfactions to ourselves depend 
 upon our having benevolence in a due degree ; and that 
 self-love is one chief security of our right behaviour 
 towards society. It may be added, that their mutual 
 coinciding, so that we can scarce promote one without 
 the other, is equally a proof that we were made for both. 
 Secondly, This will further appear, from observing 
 that the several passions and affections, which are dis- 
 tinct* both from benevolence and self-love, do in 
 general contribute and lead us to public good as really as 
 to private. It might be thought too minute and parti- 
 cular, and would carry us too great a length, to distin- 
 guish between and compare together the several passions 
 or appetites distinct from benevolence, whose primary 
 use and intention is the security and good of society; 
 and the passions distinct from self-love, whose primary 
 intention and design is the security and good of the in- 
 dividual.t It is enough to the present argument, that 
 
 * Every body makes a distinction between self-love, and the several particular 
 passions, appetites, and affections ; and yet they are often confounded again. That 
 they are totally different, will be seen. by Wiy one wlio will distinguish between the 
 passions and appetites themselves, and endeavouring after the means of their gratifi- 
 cation. Consider the appetite of hunger, and the desire of esteem : these being the 
 occasion both of pleasure and pain, the cooUest self-love, as well as the appetites and 
 passions themselves, may put us upon making use of the proper methods of obtaining 
 that pleasure, and avoiding that pain ; but the feelings themselves, the pain of hunger 
 and shame, and the delight from esteem, are no more self-love than they are any 
 thing in the world. Though a man hated himself, he would as much feel the pain 
 of hunger as he would that of the gout : and it is plainly supposable there may be 
 creatures with self-love in them to tlie highest degree, who may be quite insensible 
 and indifferent (as men in some cases are) to the contempt and esteem of those, 
 upon whom their happiness does not in some further respects depend. And as self- 
 love and the several particular passions and appetites are in themselves totally dif- 
 ferent ; so, that some actions proceed from one, and some from the other, will be 
 manifest to any who will observe the two following very supposable cases. One man 
 rushes upon certain ruin for the gratification of a present desire : nobody will call the 
 principle of this action seU-love. Suppose another man to go through some labori- 
 ous work upon promise of a great reward, without any distinct knowledge what the 
 reward will be : this course of action cannot be ascribed to any particular passion. 
 The former of these actions is plainly to be imputed to some particular passion or 
 affection, the latter as plainly to the general affection or principle of self-love. 
 That there are some particular pursuits or actions concerning which we cannot de- 
 termine how far they are owing to one, and how far to the other, proceeds from this 
 that the two principles are frequent^ mixed together, and run up into each other. 
 This distinction is further explained in tlie eleventh sermon. 
 
 f If any desire to see this distinction and comparison made in a particular instance, 
 the appetite and passion now mentioned may serve for one. Hunger is to be con- 
 sidered as a private appetite ; because the end for which it was given us is the 
 preservation of the individual. Desire of esteem is a public passion ; because the 
 end for which it was given us is to regulate our behaviour towards society. The 
 respect which this has to private good is as remote as the respect that has to public 
 good : and the appetite is no more selt-love, than the passion is benevolence. The 
 olgect and end of the former is merely food ; the object and end of the latter is 
 
80 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [Si*. I. 
 
 desire of esteem from others, contempt and esteem of 
 tHem, love of society as distinct from affection to the 
 good of it, indignation against successful vice, that these 
 are pubhc affections or passions; have an immediate re- 
 spect to others, naturally lead us to regulate our be- 
 haviour in such a manner as will be of service to our 
 fellow creatures. If any or all of these may be consi- 
 dered likewise as private affections, as tending to private 
 good; this does not hinder them from being public af- 
 fections too, or destroy the good influence of them upon- 
 society, and their tendency to public good. It may be 
 added, that as persons without any conviction from reason 
 of the desirableness of life, would yet of course preserve 
 it merely from the appetite of hunger; so by acting 
 merely from regard (suppose) to reputation, without 
 any consideration of the good of others, men often con- 
 tribute to public good. In both these instances they are 
 plainly instruments in the hands of another, in the hands 
 of Providence, to carry on ends, the preservation of the 
 individual and good of society, which they themselves 
 have not in their view or intention. The sum is, men 
 have various appetites, passions, and particular affec- 
 tions, quite distinct both from self-love and from bene- 
 volence: all of these have a tendency to promote both 
 public and private good, and may be considered as 
 respecting others and ourselves equally and in common: 
 but some of them seem most immediately to respect 
 others, or tend to pubhc good ; others of them most im- 
 mediately to respect self, or tend to private good: as the 
 former are not benevolence, so the latter are not self- 
 love: neither sort are instances of our love either to our- 
 selves or others ; but only instances of our Maker's care 
 and love both of the individual and the species, and 
 proofs that he intended we should be instruments of 
 good to each other, as well as that we should be so to 
 ourselves. 
 
 Thirdly, There is a principle of reflection in men, by 
 which they distinguish between, approve and disapprove 
 
 merely esteem : but the latter can no more be gratified, witliont contribnling to the- 
 goiKl of society; tlian the fonner can be gratified, without contributine to the proser- 
 TBtiOD of the hidividual. ' 
 
Sen.!.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 31 
 
 their own actions. We are .plainly xonstituted such sort 
 of creatures as to reflect upon our own nature. The 
 mind can take a view of what passes within itself, its 
 propensions, aversions, passions, affections, as respecting 
 such objects, and in such degrees ; and of the several ac- 
 tions consequent thereupon. In this survey it approves 
 of one, disapproves of another, and towards a third is af- 
 fected in neither of these ways, but is quite indifferent. 
 This, principle in man, by which he approves or disap- 
 proves his heart, temper, and actions, is conscience ; for 
 this is the strict sense of the word, though sometimes it 
 is used so as to take in more. And tthat this faculty 
 tends to restrain men from doing mischief to each other, 
 and leads them to do good, is too manifest to need 
 being insisted upon. Thus a parent has the affection of 
 love to his children: this leads him to take care of, to 
 educate, to make due provision for them; the natural af- 
 fection leads to this: but the reflection that it is his 
 proper business, what belongs to him, that it is right and 
 commendable so to do; this added to the affection be- 
 comes a much more settled principle, and carries him on 
 through more labour and difficulties for the sake of his 
 children, than he would undergo from that affection 
 alone, if he thought it, and the course of action it led to, 
 either indifferent or criminal. This indeed is impossi- 
 ble, to do that which is good and not to approve of it ; 
 for which reason they are frequently not considered as 
 distinct, though they really are: (or men often approve 
 of the actions of others, wbich-they will not imitate, and 
 likewise do that which they approve not. It cannot 
 possibly be denied, that there is this principle of reflec- 
 tion or conscience in human nature. Suppose a man to 
 relieve an innocent person in great distress ; suppose the 
 same man afterwards, in the fury of anger, to do the 
 greatest mischief to a person who had given no just cause 
 of offence; to aggravate the injury, add the circumstances 
 of former friendship, and obhgation from the injured 
 person; let the man who is supposed to have done these 
 two different actions, coolly reflect upon them afterwards, 
 ■without regard to their consequences to himself: to as- 
 sert that any common man would be affected in the 
 
32 UPON HUMAN NATUEE. i^Sot.!. 
 
 same way towards these different actions, that he would 
 make no distinction between them, but approve or dis- 
 approve them equally, is too glaring a falsity to need 
 being confuted. There is therefore this principle of re- 
 flection or conscience in mankind. It is needless to 
 compare the respect it has to private good, with the re- 
 spect it has to pubUc ; since it plainly tends as much to 
 the latter as to the former, and is commonly thought to 
 tend chiefly to the latter. This faculty is now mentioned 
 merely as another part in the inward frame of man, 
 pointing out to us in some degree what we are intended 
 for, and as what»will naturally and of course have some 
 influence. The particular place assigned to it by nature, 
 what authority it has, and how great influence it ought 
 have, shall be hereafter considered. 
 
 From this comjparison of benevolence and self-love, 
 of our public arid private aflections, of the courses of life 
 they lead to, and of the principle of reflection or con- 
 science as respecting each of them, it is as manifest, that 
 we were made for society, and to promote the happiness of 
 it ; as that we were intended to take care of our own life, 
 and health, and private good. 
 
 And from this whole review must be given a different 
 draught of human nature from what we are often pre- 
 sented with. Mankind are by nature so closely united, 
 there is such a correspondence between the inward sen- 
 sations of one man and those of another, that disgrace is 
 as much avoided as bodily pain, and to be the object of 
 esteem and love as much desired as any external goods : 
 and in many particular cases, persons are carried on to 
 do good to others, as the end their affection tends to and 
 rests in ; and manifest that they find real satisfaction and 
 enjoyment in this course of behaviour. There is such a 
 natural principle of attraction in man towards man, that 
 having trod the same tract of land, having breathed in 
 the same climate, barely having been in the same arti- 
 ficial district or division, becomes the occasion of con- 
 tracting acquaintances and familiarities many years after: 
 for any thing may serve the purpose. Thus relations 
 merely nominal are sought and invented, not by gover- 
 nors, but by the lowest of the people; which are found 
 
«KE. I.J UPON HUMAN. NATURE. 33 
 
 sufficient to hold mankind together in Uttle fraternities 
 and copartnerships: weak ties indeed, and what may 
 afford fund enough for ridicule, if they are absurdly con- 
 sidered as the real principles of that union : but they are 
 in truth merely the occasions, as any thing may be of 
 any thing, upon which our nature carries us on accord- 
 ing to its own previous bent and bias ; whifch occasions 
 therefore would be nothing at all, were there not this 
 prior disposition and bias of nature. Men are so much 
 one body, that in a peculiar manner they feel for each 
 other, shame, sudden danger, resentment, honour, pros- 
 perity, distress ; one or another, or all of these, from the 
 social nature in general, from benevolence, upon the 
 occasion of natural relation, acquaintance, protection, 
 dependence; each of these being distinct cements of 
 society. And therefore to have no restraint from, no 
 regard to others in our behaviour, is the speculative 
 absurdity of considering ourselves as single and inde- 
 pendent, as having nothing in our nature which has re- 
 spect to our fellow creatures, reduced to action and 
 practice. And this is the same absurdity, as to suppose 
 a hand, or any part, to have no natural respect to any 
 other, or to the whole body. 
 
 But_allqwirig all this, it may be asked, " Has not man 
 dispositions and principles within, which lead him to do 
 evil to others, as well as to do. gpod.P Whence come 
 the many miseries else, which men are the authors and 
 instruments of to each other?".,. These*questions, so far 
 as they relate to the foregoing discourse, may be answer- 
 jed_by asking. Has not man also dispositions and prin- 
 ciples withia, which lead him to do evil to himself as well 
 as gbod.f* Whence come the many miseries else, sick- 
 ness, pain, and death, which men are instruments and 
 authors of to themselves? 
 
 It may be thought more easy to answer one of these 
 questions than the other, but the answer to both is really 
 the same; that mankind have ungoverned passions which 
 they will gratify at any rate, as well to the injury of 
 others, as in contradiction to known private interest: but 
 that as .there is no such thing as self-hatred, so neither 
 is there any such thing as ill-will in one man towards 
 
34 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [Seb. I 
 
 another, emulation and resentment being away; vvhereas- 
 there is plainly benevolence or good-will: there is no 
 such thing as love of injustice, oppression, treachery, in- 
 gratitude; but only eager desires alter such and such 
 external goods; which, according to a very ancient ob- 
 servation, the most abandoned would choose to obtain by 
 innocent means, if they were as easy, and as effectual to 
 their end : that even emulation and resentment, by any one 
 who will consider what these passions really are in na- 
 ture,* will be found nothing to the purpose of this objec- 
 tion : and that the principles and passions in the mind of 
 man, which are distinct both from self-love and benevo- 
 lence, primarily and most directly lead to right behaviour 
 with regard to others as well as himself, and only second- 
 arily and accidentally to what is evil. Thus, though men, 
 to avoid the shame of one villany, are sometimes guilty of 
 a greater, yet it is easy to see, that the original tendency 
 of shame is to prevent the doing of shameful actions; 
 and its leading men to conceal such actions when done, 
 is only in consequence of their being done ; i. e. of the 
 passion's not having answered its first end. 
 
 If it be said, that there are persons in the world, who 
 are in great measure without the natural affections to- 
 •wards their fellow creatures : there kre likewise instances 
 of persons without the common natural affections to 
 themselves: but the nature of man is not to be judged 
 of by either of these, but by what appears in the common 
 world, in the bulk of mankind. 
 
 I am afraid it wduld be thought very strange, if to con- 
 firm^he truth pfjthis account oThuman nature, and make 
 but the justness of the foregoing comparison, it should 
 be added, that, from what appears, men in fact as much 
 and as often contradict that part of their nature which 
 respects self, and which leads them to their own private 
 
 * Eiiiiilatiun is intrcly tlu! lii'Sin- aiul iiope of equality with, or superiority ovit 
 otlicrs, Willi wliom we compare our.-.. lve>. There ooes not apjj^ar to be any other 
 friej iii tlie niiuiral passion, bill only that want which is implied in desire. However 
 this may lie bo strong as to be the «cc.i!,;iiii ot j.]-, ai grief, 'ro desire tlie attainment, 
 of tliis eiiilalily or superioray liy tin- particular means o'r ojiers being lirinight down,, 
 loom- own level, or below ii, i,^, I Hunk, u.e distinci notion of i nvy. Troni wiiencu 
 it is easy Lo si'e, lliat the vi-A tnd w.,i.:n aw naanal piis.>ion ennilation, and wincli. 
 the unla>vlul one envy aini> al, is . x ,c.ly u,f mhhp ; nunii ly, il.at . i|iiiiliiy or snuiri- 
 ority: aiul cimseqiitii iy, Li.ai lo ili) iii,.-c..i, f ,, ,„„, t,„- < n.l of ( nvy, but merely the 
 lueaiis liniak.s iisr ol loaiuiiu a^ mil A- u> nsiianKni., see Li* eigi.ili sermon 
 
Seii.1.] upon human NATURE. 35 
 
 _good and happiness ; as they contradict that part of it 
 "which respects society, wi<i tends to public good: that 
 there are as few persons, who attain the greatest satis- 
 faction and enjoyment which they might attain in the 
 present world; as who do the greatest good to others 
 which they might do; nay, that there are as few who 
 can be said really and in earnest to aim at one, as at the 
 other. Take a survey of mankind: the world in general, 
 the good and bad, almost without exception, equally are 
 agreed, that were religion out of the case, the happiness 
 of the present life would consist in a manner wholly in 
 riches, honours, sensual gratifications; insomuch that one 
 scarce hears a reflection made upon prudence, life, con- 
 duct, but upon this supposition. Yet on the contrary, 
 thatjiersons-in~the-greatest.afS.uence,lof fortune are no 
 happier than such as have only a competency ; that the 
 cares and dfsappointments of ambition for the most part 
 far exceed the satisfactions of it [^_as_also_thj miserable 
 intervals of intemperance and excess, and the many un- 
 tmrely deaths occasioned by a dissolute course of life : 
 these' things are all seen, acknowledged, by every one ac- 
 knowledged; but are thought no ob^ctions against, though 
 they expressly contradict, this universal principle, that the 
 happiness of the present life consists in one or other of 
 them . Whence is all this absurdity and contradiction ? Is 
 not the middle way obvious ? Can any thing be more 
 manifest, than that the happiness of life consists in those 
 possessed and enjoyed only to a certain degree; that to 
 pursue them beyond this degree, is always attended 
 with more inconvenience than advantage to a man's 
 self, and often with extreme misery and unhappiness. 
 Whence then, I say, is all this absurdity and contradic- 
 tion ? Is it really the result of consideration in man- 
 kind, how they may become most easy to themselves, 
 most free from care, and enjoy the chief happiness 
 attainable in this world ? Or is it not manifestly owing 
 either to this, that they have ' not cool and reasonable 
 concern enough for themselves to consider wherein their 
 chief happiness in the present life consists ; or else, if 
 they do consider it, that they will not act conformably 
 to what is the result of that consideration: i. e. reasona- 
 
 c2 
 
36 UPON HUMAN NATURE. []Bn. L 
 
 ble concern for themselves, or cool self-love is prevailed 
 over by passion and appetite. So that from v^hat 
 appears, there is no ground to assert that those princi- 
 ples in the nature of man, which most directly lead to 
 promote the good of our fellow creatures, are more 
 generally or in a greater degree violated, than those, 
 •which most directly lead us to promote our own private 
 good and happiness. 
 
 The sum of the whole is plainly this. The nature of 
 man, considers J iriliTs sihgTe capacity, and with respect 
 only to the presenfworTd, IS adapted and leads him to 
 attain the greatest happiness he can for himself in the 
 present world. The nature of man, considered in his 
 public or social capacity, leads him to a right behaviour 
 in society to that course of life which we call virtue. 
 Men follow ot obey their nature in both these capacities 
 and respects to a certain degree, but not entirely : their 
 actions do not come up to the whole of what their 
 nature leads them to in either of these capacities or 
 respects: and they often violate their nature in both, 
 i. e. as they neglect the duties they owe to their fellow 
 creatures, to which their nature leads them ; and are 
 injurious, to which their nature is abhorrent ; so there 
 is a manifest negligence in men of their real happiness 
 or interest in the present world, when that interest is 
 inconsistent with a present gratification ; for the sake of 
 which they negligently, nay, even knowingly, are the 
 authors and instruments of their own misery and ruin. 
 Thus they are as often unjust to themselves as to others, 
 and for the most part are equally so to both by the 
 same actions. 
 
En. IL] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 37 
 
 SERMON II. III. 
 
 CPON HUMAN NATURE. 
 
 Jbr uihen the Gentiles, which have not the late, do hy nature the» 
 things contained in the law, these, having not the laio, are a law 
 unto themselves. — Rom. ii. 14. 
 
 As speculative truth admits of different kinds of .proof, 
 so likewise moral obligations may be shown by different 
 methods. If the real qature of any creature leads him 
 and is adapted to such and such purposes only, or more 
 than to any other; this is a reason to believe the author 
 of that nature intended it for those purposes. Thus 
 there is no doubt the eye was intended for us to see 
 with. And the more complex any constitution is, and 
 the greater variety of parts there are which thus tend to 
 some one end, the stronger is the proof that such end 
 was designed. However, when the inward frame of man 
 i^ considered as any guide in morals, the utmost caution 
 must be used that none make peculiarities in their own 
 temper, or any thing which is the effect of particular 
 customs, though observable in several, the standard of 
 wEafTs^ common to the species ; and above all, that the 
 highest principle be not forgot or excluded, that to which 
 belongs the adjustment and'correction of all other inward 
 movements and affections: which principle will of course 
 have some influence, but which being in nature supreme, 
 as shall now be shown, ought to preside over and govern 
 all the rest. The difficulty of rightly observing the two 
 former cautions ; the appearance there is of some small 
 diversity amongst mankind with respect to this faculty, 
 with respect to thpir natural sense of mqral good and 
 evil; and the attention necessary to survey with any 
 exactness what passes within, have occasioned that it is 
 not so much agreed what is the standard of the internal 
 nature of man, as of his external form. Neither is this 
 last exactly settled. Yet we understand one another 
 when we speak of the shape of a human body: so like- 
 wise we do when we speak of the heart and inward 
 
38 UPON HUMAN NATURE. (Sbb. U. 
 
 principles, how far soever the standard is from being 
 exact or precisely fixed., There is therefore ground for 
 an-Attenipt^ of showing men to themselves, of showing 
 them what course of life and behaviour their real nature 
 points .out and would lead them to. Now obligations of 
 virtue shown, and motives to the practice of it enforced, 
 from a review of the nature of map, are to be considered 
 as an appeal to each particular person's heart and natural 
 conscience: as the external senses are appealed to for 
 the proof of things cognizable by them. Since then our 
 inward feelings, and the perceptions we receive from our 
 external senses, are equally re jil ; to argue from the for- 
 mer to" life and conduct is as little liable to exception, as 
 to argue from the latter to absolute speculative truth. 
 A man can as little doubt whether his eyes were given 
 him to see with, as he can doubt of the truth of the 
 science of optics^ deduced from ocular experiments. 
 And allowing the inward feeling, shame; a man can as_ 
 Jittle doubt whether it was~given him to prevent his 
 doing shameful actions^ as he can doubt whether his eyes 
 were given him to guide his steps. And as to these in- 
 ward feeUngs themselves; that they are real, that man 
 has in his nature passions and affections, can no more be 
 questioned, thkn that he has external senses. Neither 
 can the former be .wholly mistaken; though to a certain 
 degree liable to greater mistakes than the latter. 
 
 There can be no doubt but that several propensions 
 or instincts, several principles in the heart of man, carry 
 him to society, and to contribute to the happiness of it, 
 in a sense and a manner in which no inward principle 
 leads him to evil. These principles, propensions, or in- 
 stincts which lead him to do good, are approved of by a 
 certain faculty within, quite distinct from these propen- 
 sions themselves. All this hath been fully made out in 
 the foregoing discourse. 
 
 But it may be said, " What is all this, though true, to 
 the purpose of virtue and religion .P these require, not 
 only that we do good to others when we are led this 
 way, by benevolence or reflection, happening to be 
 stronger than other principles, passions, or appetites; 
 but likewise that the whole character be formed upon 
 
Ser. II.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 39 
 
 thought and reflection ; that every action be directed by " 
 some determinate rule, some other rule than the strength 
 and prevalency of any principle or passion. What sign 
 is there in our nature (for the inquiry is only about what 
 is to be collected from thence) that this was intended by 
 its Author? Or how does so various and fickle a temper 
 as that of man appear adapted thereto? It may indeed 
 be absurd and unnatural for men to act without any re- 
 flection; nay, without regard- to that particular kind of 
 reflection which you call conscience ; because this does 
 belong to our nature. For as there never was a man 
 but who approved one place, prospect, building, before 
 another: so it does not appear that there ever was a man 
 who would not have approved an action of humanity 
 rather than of cruelty; interest and passion being quite 
 out of the case. But interest and passion do come in, 
 and are often too strong for and prevail over reflection 
 and conscience. Now as brutes have various instincts, 
 by which they are carried on to the end the Author of 
 their nature intended them for: is not man in the same 
 
 • condition ; with this diff"erence only, that to his instincts 
 (i. e. appetites and passions) is added the principle of 
 reflection or conscience? And as brutes act agreeably 
 to their nature, in following that principle or particular 
 instinct which for the present is strongest in them : does 
 not man likewise act agreeably to his nature, or obey the 
 law of his creation, by following that principle, be it pas- 
 sion or conscience, which for the present happens to be 
 strongest in him? ,Thus different men are by their par- 
 ticular nature hurried on to pursue honour, or riches, or 
 pleasure: there are also persons whose temper leads 
 them in an uncommon degree to kindness, compassion, 
 
 ; doing good to their fellow creatures : as there are others 
 who are given to suspend their judgment, to weigh and 
 consider things, and to act upon thought and reflection. 
 Let every one then quietly follow his nature; as passion, 
 reflection, appetite, the several parts of it, happen to be 
 strongest: but let not the man of virtue take upon him 
 to blame the ambitious, the covetous, the dissolute; since 
 these equally with him obey and follow their nature. 
 
 'Thus, as in some cases we follow our nature in doing 
 
40 UPON HUMAN NATURE. fSEB. lU 
 
 the works contained in the law, so in other cases we fol- 
 low nature in doing contrary." ' 
 
 Now all this licentious talk entirely goes upon a sup- 
 position^tKaFmen follow their nature in the same sense^ 
 in violating the known rules of justice and honesty for 
 the sake of a present gratification, as they do in following 
 those rules when they have no temptation to the contrary. 
 And if this were true, that could not be so which St Paul 
 asserts, that men are by nature a law to themselves. IT 
 by following nature were meant only acting as we please, 
 it would indeed be ridiculous to speak of nature as any 
 guide in morals: nay the very mention of deviating from, 
 nature would be absurd; and the mention of following 
 it, when spoken by way of distinction, would absolutely 
 have no meaning. For did ever any one act otherwise 
 than as he pleased? And yet the ancients speak of 
 deviating from nature as vice; and of following nature 
 so much as a distinction, that according to them the per- 
 fection of virtue consists therein. So that language itself 
 should teach people another sense to the words following 
 nature, than barely acting as we please. Let it however 
 be observed, that though the words human nature are to' 
 be explained, yet the real question of this discourse is 
 not concerning the meaning of words, any other than as 
 the explanation of them may be needful to make out and 
 explain the assertion, that every man is naturally a law 
 to himself, that every one may find within himself the rule' 
 of right, and obligations to follow it. This St Paul affirms 
 in the words of the text, and this the foregoing objection 
 really denies by seeming to allow it. And the objection" 
 will be fully answered, and the text before us explained, 
 by observing that nature is considered in different viewb,, 
 and the word used in different senses; and by showing 
 in what view it is considered, and in what sense the 
 word is used, when intended to express and signify that 
 which is the guide of life, that by which men are a law 
 to themselves. I say, the explanation of the term will 
 be sufficient, because frqm thence^it will appear, that in 
 some senses of the word nature cannot be, but that in 
 another sense.it manifestly is, a law to us. 
 
 I. By natvire is often meant no more than some prirv-^ 
 
Skb. II.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 41 
 
 d^ jn inan,-without regard either to the kind or degree 
 .oiLit. ^hus the passion of anger, and the affection of 
 Earentg tolKeir children, would be called eqnaWy natural. 
 And as the same person hath often contrary principles, 
 which at the same time draw contrary ways, he may by 
 the same action both follow and contradict his nature in 
 this sense of the word; he may follow one passion and 
 contradict another. 
 
 II. Nature is frequently spoken of as consisting in 
 those passions which are strongest, and most influence 
 the actions; which being vicious ones, mankind is in 
 this sense naturally vicious, or vicious by nature. 'Thus 
 St Paul says of the Gentiles, who were dead in trespasses 
 and sins, and walked according to the spirit of disobedience, 
 that they were by nature the children of wrath* They 
 could be no otherwise children of wrath by nature, than 
 they were vicious by nature. 
 
 Here then are two different senses of the word nature, 
 in neither of which men can at all be said to be a law to 
 themselves. They are jnentioned only to be excluded; 
 to prevent their being confounded, as the latter is in thf 
 objection, with another sense of it, which is now to be 
 inquired after and explained. 
 
 III. The apostle asserts, that the Gentiles do by na- 
 ture the things contained in the lav). Nature is indeed 
 here put by way of distinction from revelation, but yet it 
 is not a mere negative. He intends to express more 
 than that by which they' did not, that by which they did 
 the works of the law; namely, by nature. It is plain 
 the meaning of the word is not the same in this passage 
 as in the former, where it is spoken of as evil; for in 
 this latter it is spoken of as good; as that by which they 
 acted, or might have acted virtuously. What that is in 
 man by which he is naturally a law to himself is ,ex- 
 plained in the following words: Which shew the work of 
 the law written in their hearts, their consciences also bear- 
 ing witness, and their thoughts the mean while accusing or 
 else excusing one another. If there be a distinction to be 
 made between the works written in their hearts, and the 
 witness of conscience ; by the former must be meant the 
 
 * Ephes. ii. 3. 
 
42 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [Ser. 11 
 
 natural disposition to kindness and compassion, to do 
 what is of good report, to wliich this apostle often refers: 
 that part'of the nature of man, treated of in the foregomg 
 discourse, which with very Httle reflection and of course 
 leads him to society, and by means of which he naturally 
 acts a just and good part in it, unless other passions or 
 interests lead him astray. Yet since other passions, and 
 regards to private interest, which lead us (though in- 
 directly, yet they lead us) astray, are themselves in a 
 degree equally natural,. and often most prevalent; and 
 since we have no method of seeing the particular de- 
 grees in which one or the other is placed in us by 
 nature; it is plain the former, considered merely as 
 natural, good and right as they are, can no more be a 
 law to us than the latter. But there is a superior prin- 
 ciple of reflection or conscience in every man, which 
 distinguishes between the internal principles of his heart, 
 as well as his external actions : which passes judgment 
 upon himself and them ; pronounces determinately some 
 actions to be in themselves just, right, good; others to 
 be in themselves evil, wrong, unjust: which, without 
 being consulted, without being advised with, magiste- 
 rially exerts itself, and approves or condemns him the 
 doer of them accordingly : and which, if not forcibly 
 stopped, naturally and always of course goes on to an- 
 ticipate a higher and more effectual sentence, which shall 
 hereafter second and affirm its own. But this part of 
 the office of conscience is beyond my present design 
 explicitly to consider. It is by this faculty, natural to 
 man, that he is a moral agent, that he is a law to him- 
 self: but this faculty, I saiy, not to be considered merely 
 as a principle in his heart, which is to have some in- 
 fluence as well as others ; but considered as a faculty in 
 iind and in nature supreme over all others, and which 
 bears its_own authority of being so. 
 
 This prerogative, this natural supremacy, of the faculty 
 which surveys, approves or disapproves the several affec- 
 tions of our mind and actions of our lives, being that by 
 which men are a law to themselves, their conformity or 
 disobedience to which law of our nature renders their 
 actions, in the highest and most proper sense, natural or 
 
SiiB.n.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 43 
 
 unnatural; it is fit it be further explained to you: and I 
 liope it will be so, if you will attend to the following 
 reflections. 
 
 Man may act according to that principle or inclina- 
 tion which for the present happens to be strongest, and 
 yet act in a way disproportionate to, and violate his real 
 proper nature. Suppose a brute creature by any bait to 
 be allured into a snare, by which he is destroyed. He 
 plainly followed the bent of his nature, leading him to 
 gratify his appetite: there is an entire correspondence 
 between his whole nature and such an action: such 
 action therefore is natural. But suppose a man, fore- 
 seeing the same danger of certain ruin, should rush into 
 it for the sake of a present gratification ; he in this in- 
 stance would follow his strongest desire, as did the brute 
 ■creature : but there would be as manifest a disproportion, 
 between the nature of a man and such an action, as 
 between the meanest work of art and the skill of the 
 greatest master in that art: which disproportion arises, 
 not from considering the action singly in itself, or in its 
 'Consequences; but from comparison of it with the nature 
 of the^ agent. And since such an action is utterly dis- 
 proportionate to the nature of man, it is in the strictest 
 and most proper sense unnatural; this word expressing 
 that disproportion. Therefore instead of the words dis- 
 proportionate to his nature, the word unnatural m9.y now 
 be put; this being more familiar to us: but let it be 
 ■observed, that it stands for the same thing precisely. 
 
 Now what is it which renders such a rash action 
 unnatural? Is it that he went against the principle of 
 reasonable and cool self-love, considered merely as a 
 part of his nature.f* No: for if he had acted the con- 
 trary way, he would equally have gone against a princi- 
 ple, or part of his nature, namely, passion or appetite. 
 But to deny a present appetite, from foresight that the 
 gratification of it would end in immediate ruin or extreme 
 misery, is by no means an unnatural action; whereas to 
 -contradict or go against cool self-love for the sake of 
 such gratification, is so in the instance before us. . Such 
 an action then being unnatural; and its being so not 
 arising from a man's going against a principle or desire 
 
44 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [Se«, II, 
 
 barely, nor in going against that principle or desire which 
 happens for the present to be strongest; it necessarily 
 follows, that there must be some other difference or 
 distinction to be made between these two principles, 
 passion and cool self-love, than what I have yet taken 
 notice of. And this difference, not being a difference in 
 strength or degree, I call a difference in nature and in 
 hind. And since, in the instance still before us, if pas- 
 sion prevails over self-love, the consequent action is 
 unnatural ; but if self-love prevails over passion, the ac- 
 tion is natural: it is manifest that self-love is in human 
 nature a superior principle to passion. This may be 
 contradicted without violating that nature ; but the for- 
 mer cannot. So that, if we will act conformably to the 
 economy of man's nature, reasonable self-love must 
 govern. Thus, without particular consideration of con- 
 science, we may have a clear conception of the superior 
 nature oi one inward principle to another; and see that 
 there really is this natural superiority, quite distinct from 
 degrees of strength and prevalency. 
 
 Let^us now^ake a view of the nature of man, as con- 
 sistmg partly of various appetites, passions, affections, 
 and partly of the principle of reflection or conscience; 
 leaving quite out all consideration of the different degrees 
 of strength, in which either of them prevail, and it will 
 further appear that there is this natural superiority of 
 one inward principle to another, and that it is even part 
 of the idea of reflection or conscience. 
 
 Passion or appetite implies a direct simple tendency 
 towards such and such objects, without distinction of the 
 means by which they are to be obtained. Consequenfly 
 it will often happen tnere will be a desire of particular 
 objects, in cases where they cannot be obtained without 
 manifest injury to others. Reflection or conscience comes 
 in, and disapproves the pursuit of them in these circum- 
 stances; but the desire remains. Which is to be obeyed, 
 appetite or reflection ? Cannot this question be answered, 
 from the economy and constitution of human nature mere- 
 ly, without saying which is strongest? Or need this at all 
 come into consideration ? Would not the question be 
 intelligibly and fully answered by saying, that the prin- 
 
Sim. 11.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 45 
 
 dple of reflection or conscience being compared •with 
 thevarious appetites, passions, and affections in men, 
 the former is manifestly superior and chief, vithout re- 
 gard to strength? And how often soever the latter 
 happens to prevail, it is mere usurpation: the former re- 
 mains in nature and in kind its superior; and every 
 instance of such prevalence of the? latter is an instance 
 of breaking in upon and violation of the constitution of 
 man. 
 
 j\.ll this is no more than the distinction, which every 
 body is acquainted with, between mei^e power and autho- 
 rity: only instead of being intended to express the dif- 
 ference between what is possible, and what is lawful in 
 civil government ; here it has been shown applicable to 
 the several principles in the mind of man. Thus that 
 principle, by which we survey, and either approve or 
 disapprove our ojvn heart, temper, and actions, is not 
 only to be considered as what is in its turn to have some 
 influence; which may be said of every passion^ of the 
 lowest appetites: but likewise as being superior; as from 
 its very nature manifestly claiming superiority over all 
 others; insomuch that you cannot form a notion of this 
 faculty, conscience, without taking in judgment, direc- 
 tion, superintendency. This is a constituent part of the 
 idea, that is, of the faculty itself: and, to preside and go- 
 vern, from the very economy and constitution of man, 
 belongs to it. Had it strength, as it had right: had it 
 power, as it had manifest authority, it would absolutely 
 govern the world. 
 
 This gives us a further view of the nature of man ; 
 shows us what course of life we were made for: not only 
 that our real nature leads us to be influenced in some 
 degree by reflection and conscience; but likewise in what 
 degree we are to be influenced by it, if we will fall in with, 
 and act agreeably to the constitution of our nature: that 
 this faculty was placed within to be our proper governor; 
 to direct and regulate all under principles, passions, and 
 motives of action. This is its right and office : thus 
 sacred is its authority. And how often soever men 
 violate and rebelliously refuse to submit to it, for sup- 
 posed interest which they cannot otherwise obtain, or 
 
4fi UPON HUMAN NATURE. [Ses. 11. 
 
 for the sake of passion which they cannot otherwise 
 gratify ; this makes no alteration as to the natural right 
 aiid office of conscience. 
 
 Let us now turn this whole matter another way, and 
 suppose there was no such thing at all as this natural 
 supremacy of conscience ; that there was no distintrtion 
 to be made between on« inward principle and anotlieT, 
 but only that of strength; and see \\hat would be the- 
 consequence. 
 
 Consider then what is the latitude and compass of the^ 
 actioas^of man with Te^T-d to himself, his fellow crea- 
 tures, and the Supreme Being? What are their bounds, 
 besides that of our natural power? With respect to the 
 two first, they are plainly no other than these ; no man 
 seeks misery as such for himself; and no one unprovoked 
 does mischief to another for its- own sake. For in every 
 degree within these bounds, mankind knowingly from 
 passion or wantonness bring ruin and misery upon them- 
 selves and others. And impiety and profaneness, I 
 mean, what every one would call sq who believes the 
 being of God, have absolutely no boimds at all. Men 
 blaspheme the Author of nature, formally and in words, 
 renounce their allegiance to their Creator. Put an in- 
 stance then with respect to any one of these three. 
 T hough we should suppose profane swearing, and in 
 general that kind of impiety now mentioned, to mean 
 nothing, yet it implies wanton disregard and irreverence 
 towards an infinite Being, our Creator; and is this as- 
 suitable to the nature of man, as reverence and dutiful 
 submission of heart towards that Almighty Being? Or 
 suppose a man guilty of parricide, with all the circum- 
 stances of cruelty which such an action can admit of. 
 This action is done in consequence of its principle being 
 for the present strongest: and if there be no difference 
 between inward principles, but only that of strength ; the 
 strength being given, you have the whole nature of the 
 man given, so far as it relates to this matter. The ac- 
 tion plainly corresponds to the principle, the principle 
 being in that degree of strength it was: it therefore cor- 
 responds to the whole nature of the man. Upon com- 
 oaring the action and the whole nature, there arises no 
 
film. III.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 47 
 
 disproportion, there appears no unsuitableness between 
 them. Thus the murder of a fatlier and the nature of 
 man correspond to each other, as the same nature and 
 an act of filial duty. If there be no difference between 
 iliward principles, but only that of strength; we can 
 make no distinction between these two actions, con- 
 sidered as the actions of such a creature; but in our 
 coolest hours must approve or disapprove them equally : 
 than which nothing can be reduced to a greater absurd- 
 ity. 
 
 SERMON III. 
 
 The natural supremacy of reflection or conscience being 
 thus established; we may from it form a distinct notion 
 of what is meant by human nature, when virtue is said 
 to consist in following it, and vice in deviating from it. ^ 
 As the idea of- a civil constitution implies in it united 
 strength, various subordinations, under one direction, 
 that of the supreme authority ; the different strength of 
 each particular member of the society not coming into 
 the idea ; whereas, if you leave out the subordination, 
 the union, and the one direction, you destroy and lose 
 it : so reason, several appetites, passions, and affections, 
 prevailing in different degrees of strength, is not that 
 idea or notion oi human nature; but that nature consists 
 in these several principles considered as having a natural 
 respect to each other, in the several passions being' 
 naturally subordinate to the one superior principle oi, 
 reflection or conscience. Every bias, instinct, propen- 
 sion within, is a natural part of our nature, but not the 
 whole : add to these the superior faculty, whose office it 
 is to adjust, manage, and preside over them, and take 
 in this its natural superiority, and you complete the idea 
 of human nature. And as in civil government the con- 
 stitution is broken in upon, and violated by power and 
 strength prevailing over authority ; so the constitution 
 of man is broken in upon and violated by the lower 
 faculties or principles within prevaihng over that which 
 is in its nature supreme over them all. Thus, when it is 
 said by ancient writers, that tortures and death are not 
 
48 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [Sm, III. 
 
 SO contrary to human nature as injustice ; by this to bo 
 sure is not meant, that the aversion to the former in 
 mankind is less strong and prevalent than their aversion 
 to the latter : but that the former is only contrary to our 
 nature considered in a partial view, and which takes in 
 only the lowest part of it, that which we have in com- 
 mon with the brutes ; whereas the latter is contrary to 
 our nature, considered in a higher sense, as a system 
 and constitution contrary to the whole economy of man.* 
 
 And from all these things put together, nothing can 
 be more evident, than that, exclusive of revelation, man 
 cannot be considered as a creature left by his Maker to 
 act at random, and live at large up to the extent of his 
 natural power, as pas^on, humour, wilfulness, happen 
 to carry him ; which is the condition brute creatures 
 are in : but that from his make, constitution, or nature, 
 he is in the strictest and most proper sense a law to him- 
 self. He hath the rule of right within: what is wanting 
 is only that he honestly attend to it. 
 
 The inquiries which have been made by men of lei- 
 
 * Every man in liis physical nature is one individual single agent. He has like- 
 wise properties and principles, each of which may be considered separately, and 
 without regard to tlie respects which they have to each otiier. Neither of these are 
 the nature we are taking a view of. But it is tlie inward frame of man considered 
 Bs a syslem or constitution : whose several parts are united, not by a physical princi- 
 ple ol individuation, but by the respects they have to each other ; the chief of which 
 is the subjection whicli the appetites, passions, and particular affections have to the 
 one supreme principle of reflection or conscience. The system or constitution is 
 formed by and consists in these respects and this subjection. Thus tlie body is a 
 system or constitution : so is a tree : so is every machine. Consider a! 1 the several 
 parts of a tree witiiout the natural respects they have to each other, and you have 
 not at all the idea of a tree ; but add these respects, and this gives you the idea. 
 The body maybe impaired by sickness, a tree may decay, a macliine be out of order, 
 and yet the system and constitution of them not totally dissolved. There is plainly 
 somewhat wliich answers to all tliis in the moral constitution of man. Whoever will 
 consider his own nature, will see that the several appetites, passions, and particular 
 affections, have different respects amongst themselves. They are restraints upon, 
 and are in a proportion to each other. This proportion is just and perfect, when all 
 those under principles are perfectly coincident with conscience, so far as tlieir nature 
 permits, and in all cases under its absolute and entire direction. The least excess or 
 defect, the least alteration of the due proportions amongst themselves, or of their 
 coincidence with conscience, thougli not proceeding into action, is some degree of 
 disorder in the moral constitution. But perfection, though plainly intelligible and 
 unsupposable, was never attained by any man. If the liigher principle of refliction 
 maintains its place, and as much as it can corrects that disorder, and hinders it from 
 breaking out into action, this is all that can be expected from such a creature as man. 
 And though the appetites aifd passions have not their exact due prnporLiun to each 
 other; though they often strive for mastery with judgment or reflection : yet, since 
 the superiority of this principle to all others is the chief respect which forms the 
 constitution, so far as Uiis superiority is maintained, the character, the man, is ffood, 
 wortliy, virtuous. 
 
SsB. VT.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 49 
 
 sure after some general 'rule, the conformity to, or dis- 
 agreement from which, should denominate our actions 
 good or evil, are in many respects of great service. Yet 
 let any plain honest man, before he engages in any 
 course of action, ask himself, Is this I am going about 
 right, or is it wrong ? Is it good, or is it evil ? I do 
 not in the least doubt, but that this question would be 
 answered agreeably to truth and virtue, by almost any 
 fair man in almost any circumstance. Neither do there 
 appear any cases which look like exceptions to this; 
 but those of superstition, and of partiality to ourselves. 
 Superstition may perhaps be somewhat of an excep- 
 tion: but partiality to ourselves is not; this being itself 
 dishonesty. For a man to judge that to be the equita- 
 ble, the moderate, the right part for him to act, which 
 he would see to be hard, unjust, oppressive in another ; 
 this is plain vice, and can proceed only from great un- 
 fairness of mind. 
 
 But allowing that mankind hath the rule of right within 
 himself, yet it may be asked, " What obligations are we 
 under to attend to and follow it.P" I answer: it has 
 been proved that man by his nature is a law to himself, 
 without the particular distinct consideration oT the posi- 
 tive sanctions of that law; the rewards and punishments 
 which we feel, and those which from the light of reason 
 we have ground to believe, are annexed to it. The 
 question then carries its own answer along with it.^ 
 Your obligation to obey this law, is its being the law of 
 your nature. That your conscience approves of and 
 attests to such a course of action, is itself alone an obli- 
 gation. Conscience does not only offer itself to show 
 us the way we should walk in, but it likewise carries its 
 own authority with it, that it is our natural guide ; the 
 guide assigned us by the Author of our nature : it there- 
 fore belongs to our condition of being, it is our duty to 
 walk in that path, and follow this guide, without looking 
 about to see whether we may not possibly forsake them 
 with impunity. 
 
 However, let us hear what is to be said against obey- 
 ing this law of our nature. And the sum is no more 
 than this. "Why shouJd we be concerned about any 
 
 D 
 
50 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [Ssa. III. 
 
 tiling out of and beyond ourselves P If we do find with- 
 in ourselves regards to others, and restraints of we know 
 not how many different kinds ; yet these being embar- 
 rassments, and hindering us from going the nearest way 
 to our own good, why should we not endeavour to sup- 
 press and get over them?" 
 
 Thus people go on with words, which, when applied 
 to human nature, and the condition in which it is placed 
 in this world, have really no meaning. For does not 
 all this kind of talk go upon supposition, that our hap- 
 piness in this world consists in somewhat quite distinct 
 from regard to others; and that it is the privilege of vice 
 to be without restreiint or confinement? Whereas, on 
 the contrary, the enjoyments, in a manner all the com- 
 mon enjoyments of life, even the pleasures of vice, de- 
 pend upon these regards of one kind or another to our 
 fellow creatures. Throw off all regards to others, and 
 we should be quite indffferenf to infamy and to honour; 
 there could be no such thing at all as ambition; and 
 scarce any such thing as covetousness ; for we should 
 likewise be equally indifferent to the disgrace of poverty, 
 the several neglects and kinds of contempt which accom- 
 pany this state ; and to the reputation of riches, the re- 
 gard and respect they usually procure. Neither is re- 
 straint by any means peculiar to one course of life : but 
 our very nature, exclusive of conscience and our condi- 
 tion, lays us under an absolute necessity of it. We can- 
 not gain any end whatever without being confined to the 
 proper means, which is often the most painful and un- 
 easy confinement. And in numberless instances a pre- 
 sent appetite cannot be gratified without such apparent 
 and immediate ruin and misery, that the most dissolute 
 man in the world chooses to forego the pleasure, rathei 
 than endure the pain. ^ 
 
 Is the meaning then, to indulge those regards to our 
 fellow creatures, and submit to those restraints, whigh 
 upon the whole are attended with more satisfaction than 
 uneasiness, and get over only those which bring more 
 imeasiness and inconvenience than satisfaction? " Doubt- 
 less this was our meaning." V ou have changed sides, 
 iheu. Keep to this ; be consistent with yourselves; and 
 
6BR,m.l UPON HUMAN NATURE. 51 
 
 you and the men of virjtue arfe in general perfectly agreed. 
 But let us take care and avoid mistakes. Let it not Le 
 taken for granted that the temper of envy, rage, resent- 
 ment, yields greater delight than meekness, forgiveness, 
 compassion, and good-will: especially virhen it is acknow- 
 ledged that rage, envy, resentment, are in themselves 
 mere misery; and the satisfaction arising from the indul- 
 gence of them is little more than relief from that misery; 
 whereas the temper of compassion and benevolence 
 is itself delightful ; and the indulgence of it, by do- 
 ing good, affords new positive delight and enjoyment. 
 Let it not be taken for granted, that the satisfaction aris- 
 ing from the reputation of riches and power, however 
 obtained, and from the respect paid to them, is greater 
 than the satisfaction arising from the reputation of jus- 
 tice, honesty, charity, and the esteem which is universally 
 acknowledged to be their du3. And if it be doubtful 
 which of these satisfactions is the greatest, as there are 
 persons who think neither of them very considerable, 
 yet there can be no doubt concerning ambition and 
 covetousness, virtue and a good mind, considered in 
 themselves, and as leading to different courses of life; 
 there can, I say, be no doubt, which temper and which 
 course is attended with most peace and tranquillity of 
 mind, which with most perplexity, vexation, and jncOn- 
 venience. And both the virtues and vices which have 
 been now mentioned, do in a manner equally imply in 
 them regards of one kind or another to our fellow crea- 
 tures. And with respect to restraint and confinement: 
 whoever will consider the restraints from fear and shame, 
 the dissimulation, mean arts of concealment, servile 
 compliances, one or other of whicli belong to almost every 
 course of Vice, will soon be convinced that the man of 
 virtue is by no means upon a disadvantage in this re- 
 spect. How many instances are there in which men 
 feei and own and cry aloud under the chains of vice 
 with which they are enthralled, and which yet they will 
 not shake off! How many instances, in which persons 
 manifestly go through more pains and self-denial to 
 gratify a vicious passioui, than would have been neces^ 
 sary to the conquest of it! To this is to be added, that 
 
 nz 
 
52 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [Sja. m. 
 
 when virtue is become habitual, ^hen the temper of it 
 is acquired, what was before confinement ceases to be 
 so, by becoming choice and delight. Whatever re- 
 straint and guard upon ourselves may be needful to 
 unlearn any unnatural distortion or odd gesture; yet, 
 in all propriety of speech, natural behaviour must be 
 the most easy and unrestrained. It is manifest that, in 
 the common course of life, there is seldom any incon- 
 sistency between our duty and what is called interest: it 
 is much seldomer that there is an inconsistency between 
 duty and what is really our present interest; meaning, 
 by interest, happiness and satisfaction. Self-love then, 
 though confined to the interest of the present world, 
 does in general perfectly coincide with virtue; and leads 
 us to one and the same course of life. But, whatever 
 exceptions there are to this, which are much fewer than 
 they are commonly thought, all shall be set right at the 
 final distribution of things. It is a manifest absurdity 
 to suppose evil prevailing finally over good, under the 
 conduct and administration of a perfect mind. 
 
 The whole argument, which I have been now insist- 
 ing upon, may be thus summed up, and given you in 
 one view. The nature of man, is adapted to some course 
 of action or other. Upon comparing sofhe actions with 
 this nature, they appear suitable and correspondent to 
 it: from comparison of other actions with the same na- 
 ture, there arises to our view some unsuitableness or 
 disproportion. The correspondence of actions to the 
 nature of the agent renders them natural : their dispro- 
 portion to it, unnatural. That an action is correspon- 
 dent to the nature of the agent, does not arise from its 
 being agreeable to the principle which happens to be 
 the strongest: for it may be so, and yet be quite dispro- 
 portionate to the nature of the agent. The correspon- 
 dence therefore, or disproportion, arises from somewhat 
 else. This can be nothing but a difierence in nature 
 and kind, altogether distinct from strength, between the 
 inward principles. Some then are in nature and kind 
 superior to others. And the correspondence arises from 
 the action being conformable to the higher principle; 
 and the unsuitableness from its being contrary to it 
 
Skb.iv.] upon the government, etc. 63 
 
 Reasonable self-love and conscience are the chief or 
 superior principles in the nature of man: because an 
 action may be suitable to this nature, though all other ^ 
 principles be violated; but becomes unsuitable, if either 
 of those are. Conscience and self-love, if we understand 
 our true happiness, always lead us the same way. Duty 
 and interest are perfectly coincident: for the most part 
 in this world, but entirely and in every instance if we 
 take in the future, and the whole ; this being implied in 
 the notion of a good and perfect administration of things. 
 Thus they who have been so wise in their generation as 
 to regard only their own supposed interest, at the ex- 
 pense and to the injury of others, shall at last find, that 
 he who has given up all the advantages of the present 
 world, rather than violate his conscience and the rela- 
 tions of hfe, has infinitely better provided for himself, 
 and secured his own interest and happiness. 
 
 SERMON IV. 
 
 UPON THE GOVERNMENT OF THE TONGUE. 
 
 If any man among you seem to be religious, and bridleth not his 
 tongue, but deeeiveth his own heart, this man's religion is vain,-:^ 
 James i. 26. 
 
 The translation of this text would be more determinate 
 by being more literal, thu^: If any man among you seemeth 
 to be religious, not bridling his tongue, but deceiving his own 
 heart, this man's religion is vain. This "determines, that 
 the words, but deeeiveth his own Jieart, are not put in op- 
 position to, seemeth to be religious, but to, bridleth not his 
 tongue. The certain determinate meaning of the text 
 •then being, that he who seemeth to be religious, and 
 bridleth not his tongue, but in that particular deeeiveth 
 his own heart, this man's religion is vain ; we may ob- 
 serve somewhat very forcible and expressive in these 
 words of St James. As if the apostle had said. No man 
 surely can make any pretences to religion, who does not 
 at least believe that he bridleth his tongue: if he puts on 
 
54 UPON THE GOVEENMENT [So. IV. 
 
 any appearance or face of religion, and yet does not 
 govern his tongue, lie must surely deceive himself in 
 that particular, and think he does: and whoever is so 
 unhappy as to deceive himself in this, to imagine he 
 keeps that unruly faculty in due subjection, vrhen indeed 
 he does not, whatever the other part of his life be, his 
 religion is vain; the government of the tongue being a 
 most material restraint which virtue lays us under: with- 
 out it no man can be truly religious. 
 
 In treating upon this subject, I will consider. 
 
 First, What is the general vice or fault here referred 
 to : or what disposition in men is supposed in moral re- 
 flections and precepts concerning bridling the tongue. 
 
 Secondly, When it may be said of any one, that he 
 has a due government over himself in this respect. 
 
 I. Now the fault referred to, and the disposition sup- 
 posed, in precepts and reflections concerning the govern- 
 ment of the tongue, is not evil-speaking from malice, 
 nor lying or bearing false witness from indirect selfish 
 designs. The disposition to these, and the actual vices 
 themselves, all come under other subjects. The tongue 
 may be employed about, and made to serve all the pur- 
 poses of vice, in tempting and deceiving, in perjury and 
 injustice. But the thing here supposed and referred to, is 
 talkativeness : a disposition to be talking, abstracted from 
 the consideration of what is to be said; with very little 
 or no regard to, or thought of doing, either good or 
 harm. And let not any imagine this to be a slight 
 matter, and that it deserves not to have so great weight 
 laid upon it; till he has considered, what evil is implied 
 in it, and the bad effects which follow from it. It is 
 perhaps true, that they who are addicted to this folly 
 would choose to confine themselves to trifles and indif- 
 ferent subjects, and so intend only to be guilty of being 
 impertinent: but as they cannot go on for ever talking. 
 of nothing, as common matters will not aiford a sufficient 
 fund for perpetual continued discourse: when subjects 
 of this kind are exhausted, they will go on to defamaticm^ 
 scandal, divulging of secrets, their own secrets as well as 
 those of (^thers, any thing rather than be silent. They 
 are plainly hurried on in the heat of their talk to feay 
 
=S«K. IV.] OF THE TONGUE. 55 
 
 quite different things from what they first intended, and 
 Tvhich they afterwards wish unsaid: or improper things, 
 which they had no end in saying, but only to afford em- 
 ployment to their tongue. And if these people expect 
 to be heard and regarded, for there are some content 
 merely with talking, they will invent to engage your at- 
 tention : and, when they have heard the least imperfect 
 hint of an affair, they will out of their own head add the 
 ■circumstances of time and place, and other matters to 
 make out their story, and give the appearance of proba- 
 bility to it : not that they have any concern about being 
 believed, otherwise than as a means of being heard. The 
 -thing is, to engage your attention; to take you up wholly 
 for the present time : what reflections will be made after- 
 wards, is in truth the least of their thoughts. And further, 
 when persons, who indulge themselves in these liberties 
 of the tongue, are in any degree offended with another, 
 as little disgusts and misunderstandings will be, they 
 allow themselves to defame and revile such a one with- 
 out any moderation or bounds ; though the offence is so 
 very slight, that they themselves would not do, nor per- 
 haps wish him an injury in any other way. And in this 
 case the scandal and revilings are chiefly owing to talka- 
 tiveness, and not bridling their tongue ; and so come 
 under our present subject. The least occasion in the 
 world will make the humour break out in this particular 
 Tpay, or in another. It is like a torrent, which must and 
 will flow ; but the least thing imaginable will first of all 
 give it either this- or another direction, turn it into this 
 or that channel : or like a fire ; the nature of which, 
 when in a heap of combustible matter, is to spread and 
 lay waste all around ; but any one of a thousand little 
 accidents will occasion it to break out first either in this 
 or another particular part. 
 
 The subject then before us, though it does run up into, 
 and can scarce be treated as entirely distinct from all 
 -others; yet it needs not to be so'much mixed or blended 
 with them as it often is. Every faculty and power may 
 he used as the instrument of premeditated vice and 
 wickedness, merely as the most proper and effectual 
 means of executing such designs. But if a man, from 
 
56 UPON THE GOVERNMENT [Skb.IIP 
 
 deep malice and desire of revenge, should meditate a 
 falsehood with a settled design to ruin his neighbour's 
 reputation, and should with great coolness and delibera- 
 tion spread it; nobody would choose to say ojf such a 
 one, that he had no government of his tohgue. A man 
 may use the faculty of speech as an instrument of false 
 witness, who yet has so entire a command over that 
 faculty, as never to speak but from forethought and cool 
 design. Here the crime is injustice and perjury: and, 
 strictly speaking, no more belongs to the present subject, 
 than perjury and injustice in any other way. But there 
 is such a thing as a disposition to be talking for its own 
 sake; from which persons often say any thing, good or 
 bad, of others, merely as a subject of discourse, accord- 
 ing to the particular temper they themselves happen to 
 be in, and to pass away the present time. There is like- 
 wise to be observed in persons such a strong and eager 
 desire of engaging attention to what they say, that they 
 will speak good or evil, truth or otherwise, merely as 
 one or the other seems to be most hearkened to : and 
 this, though it is sometimes joined, is not the same with 
 the desire of being thought important and men of conse- 
 quence. There is in some such a disposition to be talk- 
 ing, that an oifence of the slightest kind, and such as 
 would not raise any other resentment, yet raises, if I 
 may so speak, the resentment of the tongue, puts it, into 
 a flame, into the most ungovernable motions. This out- 
 rage, when the person it respects is present, we dis- 
 tinguish in the lower rank of people by a peculiar term : 
 and let it be observed, that though the decencies of 
 behaviour are a little kept, the same outrage and viru- 
 lence, indulged when he is absent, is an offence of the 
 same kind. But not to distinguish any farther in this 
 manner: men run into faults and follies, which cannot 
 so properly be referred to any one general head as this, 
 that they have not a due government over their tongue. 
 
 And this unrestrained volubihty and wantonness of 
 speech is the occasion of numberless evils and vexations 
 in life. It begets resentment in him who is the subject 
 of it; sows the seed of strife and dissension amongst 
 others: and inflames little disgusts and offences, which. 
 
Skb. IV.] OF THE TONGUE. 57 
 
 if let alone would wear away of themselves: it is often 
 of as bad effect upon the good name of others, as deep envy 
 or malice : and, to say the least of it in this respect, it 
 destroys and perverts a certain equity of the utmost im- 
 portance to society to be observed; namely, that praise 
 and dispraise, a good or bad character, should always 
 be bestowed according to desert. The tongue used in 
 such a licentious manner is like a sword in the hand of 
 a madman ; it is employed at random, it can scarce pos- 
 sibly do any good, and for the most part does a world 
 of mischief; and implies not only great folly and a trifling 
 spirit, but great viciousness of mind, great indifference 
 to truth and falsity, and to the reputation, welfare, and 
 good of others. So much reason is there for what St 
 James says of the tongue.* It is a fire, a world of ini- 
 quity, it defileth the whole body, setteth on fire the course of 
 nature, and is itself set on fire of hell. This is the faculty 
 or disposition which we are required to keep a guard 
 upon : these are the vices and follies it runs into, when 
 not kept under due restraint. 
 
 II. Wherein the due government of the tongue con- 
 sists, or when it may be said of any one in a moral and 
 religious sense that he bridleth his tongue, I come now to 
 consider. 
 
 The due and proper use of any natural faculty or 
 power, is to be judged of by the end and design for which 
 it was given us. The chief purpose, for which the faculty 
 of speech was given to man, is plainly that we might 
 communicate our thoughts to each other, in order to 
 carry on the affairs of the world; for business, and for 
 our improvement in knowledge and learning. But the 
 good Author of our nature designed us not only neces- 
 saries, but likewise enjoyment and satisfaction, in that 
 being he hath graciously given, and in that condition ot 
 life he hath placed us in. There ai*e secondary uses ot 
 our faculties: they administer to delight, as well as to 
 necessity: and as they are equally adapted to both, there 
 is no doubt but he intended them for our gratification, 
 as well as for the support and continuance of our being. 
 The secondary use of speech is to please and be enter- 
 
 • Chap. iii. ver. 6. 
 
58 UPON THE GOVERNMENT LSbi.IV. 
 
 taining to each other in conversation. This is in every 
 respect allowable and right: it unites men closer in 
 alliances and friendships ; gives us a fellow feeling of the 
 prosperity and unhappiness of each other; and is in seve- 
 ral respects serviceable to virtue, and to promote good 
 behaviour in the world. And provided there be not too 
 much time spent in it, if it were considered only in the 
 way of gratification and delight, men must have strange 
 notions of God and of religion, to think that he can bfc 
 offended with it, or that it is any way inconsistent with 
 the strictest virtue. But the truth is, such sort of con- 
 versation, though it h?.s no particular good tendency, yet 
 it has a general good one: it is social and friendly, and 
 tends to promote humanity, good-nature, and civility. 
 
 As the end and use, so likewise the abuse of speech, 
 relates to the one or other of these; either to business, 
 or to conversation. As to the former; deceit in the 
 management of burliness and affairs does not properly 
 belong to the subject now before us: though one may 
 just mention that multitude, that endless number of 
 words, with which business is perplexed; when a much 
 fewer would, as it should seem, better serve the purpose: 
 but this must be left to those who understand the matter. 
 The government of the tongue, considered as a subject 
 of itself, relates chiefly to conversation ; to that kind of 
 discourse which usually fills up the time spent in friendly 
 meetings, and visits of civility. And the danger is, lest 
 persons entertain themselves and others at the expense 
 of their wisdom and their virtue, and to the injury or 
 offence of their neighbour. If they will observe and keep 
 clear of these, they may be as free, and easy, and unre- 
 served, as they can desire. 
 
 The cautions to be given for avoiding these dangers, 
 and to render conversation innocent and agreeable, fall 
 under the following particulars: silence; talking of in- 
 difierent things; and which makes up too great a part 
 of conversation, giving of characters, speaking well or 
 e vil of others. 
 
 The Wise Man observes, that there is a time to speak, 
 and a time to keep silence. One meets with people in 
 tlie world, who seem never to have made the last of these 
 
Sat. IV.] OF THE TONGUE. 59 
 
 •observations. And yet these great talkers do not at all 
 Bpeak from their having any thing to say, as every sen- 
 tence shows, but only from their inclination to be talking. 
 Their conversation is merely an exercise of the tongue: 
 no other human faculty has any share in it. It is strange 
 these persons can help reflecting, that unless they have 
 in truth a superior capacity, and are in an extraordinary 
 manner furnished for conversation; if they are enter- 
 taining, it is at their own expense. Is it possible, that 
 it should never come into people's thoughts to suspect, 
 whether or no it be to their advantage to show so very 
 much of themselves ? Oh that you would altogether hold 
 your peace, and it should be your wisdom* Remember 
 likewise there are persons who love ie\f&r words, an 
 inoffensive sort of people, and who deserve some regard, 
 though of too still and composed tempers for you. Of 
 this number was the son of Sirach : for he plainly speaks 
 from experience, when he says. As hills of sands are to 
 the steps of the uged, so is one of many words to a quiet 
 man. But one would think it should be obvious to every 
 one, that when they are in company with their superiors 
 of any kind, in years, knowledge, and experience : when 
 proper and useful subjects are discoursed of, which they 
 cannot bear a part in ; that these are times for silence : 
 when they should learn to hear, and be attentive ; at least 
 in their turn. It is indeed a very unhappy way these 
 people are in : they in a manner cut themselves out from 
 all advantage of conversation, except that of being, enter- 
 tained with their own talk : their business in coming into 
 company not being at all to be informed, to hear, to 
 learn; but to display themselves; or rather to exert their 
 faculty, and talk without any design at all. And if we 
 consider conversation as an entertainment, as somewhat 
 to unbend the mind ; as a diversion from the cares, the 
 t)usiness, and the sorrows of life ; it is of the very nature 
 of it, that the discourse be mutual. This, I say is im- 
 plied in the very notion of what we distinguish oy con- 
 versation, or being in company. Attention to the con- 
 tinned discourse of one alone grows more painful often, 
 than the cares and business we come to be diverted frotn. 
 
 * Job siii. 
 
60 UPON THE GOVERNMENT [Sm. ir. 
 
 He therefore who imposes this upon us is guilty of a 
 double oflFence ; arbitrarily enjoining silence upon all the 
 rest, and likewise obliging them to this painful attention, 
 
 I am sensible these things are apt to be passed over, 
 as too little to come into a serious discourse : but in real-, 
 ity men are obliged, even in point of morality and virtue, 
 to observe all the decencies of behaviour. The greatest 
 evils in life have had their rise from somewhat, which 
 was thought of too little importance to be attended to. 
 And as to the matter we are now upon, it is absolutely 
 necessary to be considered. For if people will not 
 maintain a due government over themselves, in regard- 
 ing proper times and seasons for silence, but will be 
 talking; they certainly, whether they design it or not at 
 first, will go on to scandal and evil-speaking, and divulg- 
 ing secrets. 
 
 If it were needful to say any thing further, to persuade 
 men to learn this lesson of silence ; one might put them 
 in mind, how insignificant they render themselves by 
 this excessive talkativeness: insomuch that, if they do 
 chance to say any thing which deserves to be attended 
 to and regarded, it is lost in the variety and abundance 
 which they utter of another sort 
 
 The occasions of silence then are obvious, and one 
 would think should be easily distinguished by every 
 body: namely, when a man has nothing to say; or no- 
 thiUig^ but what is better unsaid: better, either in regard to 
 particular persons he is present with ; or from its being 
 an interruption to conversation itself; or to conversation 
 of a more agreeable kind ; or better, lastly, with regard 
 to himself I will end this particular with two reflec- 
 tions of the Wise Man: one of which, in the strongest 
 manner, exposes the ridiculous part of this licentiousness 
 of the tongue ; and the other, the great danger and vi- 
 ciousness of it. When he that is a fool walketh by the 
 way side, his wisdom faileth him, and he saith to every 
 one that he is a fool* The other is. In the multitude of 
 words there wanteth not sin.f 
 
 As to the government of the tongue in respect to talk- 
 ing upon indifferent subjects : after what has been said 
 
 * Ecdes. 3E. 3, ■(• Prov. x, 19. 
 
8KB. IV.] OF THE TONGUE. 61 
 
 concerning the due government of it in respect to the 
 occasions and times for silence, there is Httle more ne- 
 cessary, than only to caution men to be fully satisfied, 
 that the subjects are indeed of an indifferent nature; and 
 not -to spend too much time in conversation of this kind. 
 But persons must be sure to take heed, that the subject 
 of their discourse be at least of an indifferent nature : 
 that it be no way offensive to virtue, religion, or good 
 manners ; that it be not of a licentious dissolute sort, 
 this leaving always ill impressions upon the mind; that 
 it be no way injurious or vexatious to others; and that 
 too much time be not spent this way, to the neglect of 
 those duties and offices of life which belong to their sta- 
 tion and condition in the world. However, though there 
 is not any necessity that men should aim at being im- 
 portant and weighty in every sentence they speak: yet 
 since useful subjects, at least of some kinds, are as en- 
 tertaining as others ; a wise man, even when he desires 
 to unbend his mind from business, would choose that 
 the conversation might turn upon somewhat instructive. 
 
 The last thing is, the government of the tongue as re- 
 lating to discourse of the affairs of others, and giving of 
 characters. These are in a manner the same: and one 
 can scarce call it an indifferent subject, because discourse 
 upon it almost perpetually runs into somewhat criminal. 
 
 And first of all, it were very much to be wished that 
 this did not take up so great a part of conversation; be- 
 cause it is indeed a subject of a dangerous nature. Let 
 any one consider the various interests, competitions, and 
 little misunderstandings which arise amongst men; and 
 he will soon see, that he is not unprejudiced and impar- 
 tial; that he is not, as I may speak, neutral enough, to 
 trust himself with talking of the character and concerns 
 of his neighbour, in a free, careless, and unreserved 
 manner. There is perpetually, and often it is not at- 
 tended to, a rivalship amongst people of one- kind or an- 
 other, in respect to wit, beauty, learning, fortune, and 
 that one thing will insensibly influence them to speak to 
 the disadvantage of others, even where there is no form- 
 ed malice or ill design. Since therefore it is so hard to 
 enter into this subject without offending, the first thing 
 
62 UPON THE GOVERNMENT [Seh.IV^ 
 
 to be observed is, that people should learn to decline it; 
 to get over that strong inclination most have to be talk- 
 ing of the concerns and behaviour of their neighbour. 
 
 But since it is impossible that this subject should be 
 wholly excluded conversation; and since it is necessary 
 that the characters of men should be known: the next 
 thing is, that it is a matter of importance what is said; 
 and therefore, that we should be religiously scrupulous 
 and exact to say nothing, either good or bad, but what 
 is true. I put it thus, because it is in reality of as 
 great importance to the good of society, that the char- 
 acters of bad men should be known, as that the charac- 
 ters of good men should. People, who are given to 
 scandal and detraction, may indeed make an ill use of 
 this observation ; but truths which are of service towards 
 regulating our conduct, are not to be disowned, or even 
 conjcealed because a bad use may be made of them. 
 This however would be effectually prevented, if these 
 two things were attended to. First, That, though it is 
 equally of bad consequence to society, that men should 
 have either good or ill characters which they do not 
 dftserve; yet, when you say somewhat good of a man 
 which he does not deserve, there is no wrong done him 
 in particular; whereas, when you say evil of a man 
 which he does not deserve, here is a direct formal injury,, 
 a real piece of injustice done him. This therefore makes 
 a wide difference; and gives us, in point of virtue, much 
 greater latitude in speaking well than ill of others. 
 Secondly, A good man is friendly to his fellow creatures, 
 and a lover of mankind; and so will, upon every occa- 
 sion, and often without any, say all the good he can of 
 every body: but so far as he is a good man, will never 
 be disposed to speak evil of any, unless there be some 
 other reason for it, besides barely that it is true. If he 
 be charged with having given an ill character, he will 
 scarce think it a sufficient justification of himself to say 
 it was a true one, unless he can also give some further 
 account how he came to do so : a just indignation against 
 particular instances of villany, where they are great and 
 scandalous; or to prevent an innocent man from being 
 deceived and betrayed, when he has great trust and 
 
SnuIV.j OP THE TONGDE. i 63 
 
 confidence in one who does not deserve it. Justice must 
 be done to every part of a subject when we are consider- 
 ing it. If there be a man, who bears a fair character in the 
 world, whom yet we know to be without faith or hone&ly» 
 to be really an ill man; it must be allowed in general, that 
 we shall do a piece of service to society, by letting such 
 a one's true character be known. This is no more than 
 what we have an instance of in our Saviour himself; 
 though he was mild and gentle beyond example.* How- 
 ever, no words can express too strongly the caution 
 which should be used in such a case as this. 
 
 Upon the whole matter: If people would observe the 
 obvious occasions of silence, if they would subdue the in- 
 clinations to tale-bearing, and that eager desire to engage 
 attention, which is an original disease in some minds; 
 they would be in little danger of offending with their 
 tongue; and would, in a moral and religious sense, have 
 due government over it. 
 
 I will conclude with some precepts and reflections of 
 the Son of Sirach upon this subject. Be swifl to hear; 
 and, if thou hast understanding, ansv:er thy neighbour; if 
 not, lay thy hand upon thy mouth. Honour and shame is 
 in talk. A man of an ill tongue is dangerous in his eity, 
 and he that is rash in his talk shall be hated. A wise man 
 will hold his tongue till he see opportunity ; but a babbler 
 and a fool will regard no time. He that useth many words 
 shall be abhorred; and he that taketh to himsetj authority 
 therein, shall be hated. A backbiting tongue hath diaqmeted 
 many; strong cities hath it pulled down, and overthrown 
 the houses of great men. The tongue of a man is his fall; 
 hut if thou love to hear, thou shall receive understanding. 
 
 * Mark xii. 36, 40. 
 
64 UPON COMPASSION. [ShuV. 
 
 SERMON V. 
 
 UPON COMPASSION. 
 
 Rejoice with them that do rejoice, aiid tveep with tJiem that weep. 
 Rom. xii. 15. 
 
 Every man is to be considered in two capacities, the pri- 
 vate and public; as designed to pursue his own interest, 
 and hkewise to contribute to the good of others. Who- 
 ever will consider, may see, that in general there is no 
 contrariety between these; but that from the original 
 ' constitution of man, and the circumstances he is placed 
 in, they perfectly coincide, and mutually carry on each 
 other. But, amongst the great variety of affections or 
 principles of action in our nature, some in their primary 
 intention and design seem to belong to the single or 
 private, others to the public or social capacity. The 
 affections required in the text are of the latter sort. 
 When we rejoice in the prosperity of others, and com- 
 passionate their distresses, we, as it were, substitute them 
 for ourselves, their interest for our own; and have the 
 same kind of pleasure in their prosperity, and sorrow in 
 their distress, as we have from reflection upon our own. 
 Now there is nothing strange or unaccountable in our 
 being thus carried out, and affected towards the interests 
 of others. For, if there be any appetite, or any inward 
 principle besides self-love; why may there not be an 
 affection to the good of our fellow creatures, and delight 
 from that affection's being gratified, and uneasiness from 
 things going contrary to it.P* 
 
 * There being manifestly tliis appearance of men's substituting others for them- 
 selves, and being carried out and aflectid towards them as towards themselves; some 
 persons, wlio liave a system wliicls excludes every affection of this sort, have taken s 
 pleasant nietlioil to solve it; and tell you it is not another you are at aJl concerned 
 about, but your self only, when you feel the affection called compassion, i. e. Here is 
 a plain matter of fiict, which men cannot recoiicije wim tiie ^nerai account they 
 tliink fit to give of thinns : they lJ)c/'e(ore, inst^nd of that manifest fact, substitute 
 another, wliich is riconcileable to their own scheme. For does not every body by 
 compassion mean an affi ction, the oliji ct of which is another in distress ? Instead of 
 this, but designing to have it mistaken for this, they speak of an affection or passion, 
 the oliject of which is ourselves, or danger to ourselves. IIol)bes defines pity, imagi- 
 nation, or fiction of future calamitjf to ourselves, proceeding from the sense (he' means 
 
Seb. v.] UPON COMPASSION. 65 
 
 Of these two, delight in the prosperity of others, and 
 
 compassion for their distresses, the last is felt much more 
 generally than the former. Though men do not univer- 
 sally rejoice with all whom they see rejoice, yet, acci- 
 
 siglit or knowledge) of another man's calamitt/. Thus ffar and compassion would be 
 the same iilea, and a fearful and a compassionate man tlic same character, which 
 every man iniuiediaLely sees are totally different. Further, to those wlio give any 
 scope to their affections, there is no perception or inward feeling more universal liian 
 this: that one wiio lias been mertilul and compassionate throughout the course of his 
 behaviour, should himself be treated with kindness, if he happens to fall into circum- 
 stances of distress. Is fear, tlien, or cowardice, so great a recommendation to the 
 'favour of the bulk of mankind ? Or is it not plain, that mere fearlessness (and there- 
 fore not the contraiy) is one of the most popular qualifications? This shows that 
 mankind are not affected towards compassion as fear, hut as somewhat totally 
 different. 
 
 Nothing would more expose such accounts as these of the affections which are 
 favourable and friendly to our fellow en atures, than to substitute the definitions, 
 wliich this author, and others wlio follow his steps, give of such affections, instead of 
 the words by which they are commonly expressed. Hobbes, after liaving laid down, 
 that pity or compassion is only fear for ourselves, goes on to explain the reason why 
 we pity our friends in distress more than others. Now substitute the definition instead 
 of the word pity in this place, and the inquiry will bcj^ why we fear our friends, Sic, 
 which words (since he really does not mean why we are afraid of them) make no 
 question or sentence at all. So that common language, the words to compassionate, 
 <^io pity, cannot be accommodated to his account of compassion. The very joining of 
 the words to pity our friends, is a direct contradiction to his definition of pity : because 
 those words, so joined, necessarily express that our friends are the objects of the 
 .passion: whereas his definition of it asserts, tliat ourselves (or danger to ourselves) 
 are the only objects of it. He might indeed have avoided this absurdity, by plainly 
 saying what he is going to account lor ; namely, why the sight of the innocent, or of 
 our friends in distress, raises greater fear for ourselves than the sight of other persons 
 in distress. But had he put the thing thus plainly, the fact itself would have been 
 doubted; i\\at the sight of our friends in distress raises inns greater fear for onr- 
 setves, than the sight of others in distress. And in the next pliice it would imme- 
 diately li<;ve occurred to every one, tluit the fact now mentioned, which at least is 
 doubtful, whether true or false, was not the same wi:li this fact, which nobody ever 
 doubted, that the sight of our friends in distress raises in us greater compassion than 
 the sight of others in distress: every one, 1 say, would liave seen that these are not 
 Ihe same, but two different inquiries ; and consequently, that fear and compassion are 
 not the same. Suppose a person to be in real danger, and by some means or other 
 to have forgot it; any trifling accident, aiiy sound might alarm him, recall the 
 danger to his remembrance, and renew his fear : but it is almost too grossly ridicu- 
 lous (though it is to show an absurdity) to speak of that sound or accident as an object 
 of compassion ; and yet, according to Mr Hobbes, our greatest friend in distress is 
 no more to us, no moie the object of compassion, or of any affection in our heart : 
 neither the one nor the other raises any emotion in our mind, but only the thoughts 
 of our liableness to calamity, and tlie fear of it ; and both equally do this. It is fit 
 such sort of accounts of human nature should be shown to be what they really are, 
 because there is raised upon them a general scheme which undermines the wliole 
 fountlation of common justice and honesty. See Hobbes of Human "Nature, c. 9. <^ 10. 
 
 riiere are often three distinct perceptions or inward feelings upon sight of pi'rsons 
 in distress: real sorrow and concern for the misery of our fellow creatures ; some 
 <legree of satisfaction from a consciousness of our freedom from tliat misery ; and as 
 the mind passes on from one thing to another, it is not unnatural from such an occa. 
 sion to reflect upon our liableness to the same or other calamities. The two last 
 frequently accompany the first, but it is the first only whicli is proper compassion, of 
 wliich the distressed are objects, and which directly ciirries us with calmness and 
 thought to their assistance. Any one of these, from various and complicated reasons 
 may 'in particular cases prevail over the other two; and there are, I suppose, in- 
 stances, wliere the bare sight of distress, without our feeling any compauion for it, 
 
 E 
 
66 UPON COMPASSION. JSni. V, 
 
 dental obstacles removed, they naturally compassionate- 
 all, in some degree, whom they see in distress ; so far n.2 
 they have any real perception or sense of that distress: 
 insomuch that words expressing this latter, pity, com- 
 passion, frequently occur; whereas we have scarce any 
 single one, by which the former is distinctly expressed. 
 Congratulation indeed answers condolence: but both 
 these words are intended to signify certain forms of 
 civility, rather than any inward sensation or feeling. 
 This difTerence or inequality is so remarkable, that we ^ 
 pla,inly consider compassion as itself an original, distinct, 
 particular affection in human nature; whereas to rejoice 
 in the good of others, is only a consequence of tTie 
 general affection of love and good-will to them. The 
 reason and account of which matter is this: when a. 
 man has obtained any particular advantage or felicity,, 
 his end is gained; and he does not in that particular 
 want the assistance of another: there was therefore no" 
 need of a distinct affection towards that felicity of ano>ther 
 already obtained: neither would such affection directly 
 carry him on to do good to that person: whereas men 
 in distress want assistance; and compassion leads us 
 directly to assist them. The object of the former is the 
 present felicity of another; the object of the latter is the 
 present misery of another. It is easy to see that the 
 latter wants a particular affection for its relief, and that 
 the former does not want one, because it does not want 
 assistance. And upon supposition of a distinct affection 
 in both cases, the one must rest in the exercise of itself, 
 having nothing further to gain; the other does not rest 
 in itself, but carries us on to assist the distressed. 
 
 But, supposing these affjctions natural to the mind, 
 
 may be the occasion of rillipr or Ixrth of the two latjfr prrcpptioiis. Oni- might aiW 
 thnl il there be really any such thing iu'i Lhe 6ctiori or iinaginaiioii of ilan^T to our 
 selves troin lhe siglit of the misery of iiihers, wliich Hoblies speaks of, am) which he 
 1ms absunlly niisiakeii fur tlie whole of iruinpassion ; if tliere l)e any ihins; of tlii< «irs 
 common to mankind, clistincl from llie reflection of reason, il wnnht lie n mint. 
 reniarkal)le instance of what was furtliest from the thoufflits, namely, of a niir.ui)' 
 synijialhy between eacli (larticnlar of (he species, a fellow fei'ling common to man- 
 kinci. It would not inileeil be an example of our snbstitutinnf other*, for ourselves, 
 but it would be an example of substit^itinsf ourselves for others. And as it woulil 
 not be an instance o( benevolence, so m-ither would it be an insianee of self love: 
 for this phantom of danger to ourselves, iiatundly rising to view upon sight of the 
 distresses of oJiers would he no more an instance of love to ourselves, than tlie paii* 
 of hunger is. 
 
SsR. v.] UPON COMPASSION. 67 
 
 particularly the last; " Has not each man troubles enough 
 of his own? must he indulge an affection which appro- 
 priates to himself those of others? which leads him to 
 contract the least desirable of all friendships, friendships 
 with the unfortunate ? M ust we invert the known rule of 
 prudence, and choose to associate ourselves with the dis- 
 tressed? or, allowing that we ought, so far as it is in our 
 power to relieve them, yet is it not better to do this from 
 reason and duty? Does not passion and affection of 
 every kind perpetually mislead us? Nay, is not passion 
 and affection itself a weakness, and what a perfect being 
 must be entirely free from?" Perhaps so: but it is 
 mankind I am speaking of; imperfect creatures, and 
 who naturally, and, from the condition we are placed in, 
 necessarily depend upon each other. With respect to 
 such creatures, it would be found of as bad consequence 
 to eradicate all natural affections, as to be entirely go- 
 verned by them. This would almost sink us to the 
 condition of brutes; and that would leave us without a 
 sufficient principle of action. Reason alone, whatever 
 any one may wish, is not in reality a sufficient motive 
 of virtue in such a creature as man ; but this reason joined 
 with those affections which God has impressed upon his 
 heart : and when these are allowed scope to exercise 
 themselves, but under strict government and direction of 
 reason ; then it is we act suitably to our nature, and to 
 the circumstances God has placed us in. Neither is 
 affection itself at all a weakness ; nor does it argue defect, 
 any otherwise than as our senses and appetites do; they 
 belong to our condition of nature, and are what we can- 
 not do without. God Almighty is, to be sure, unmoved 
 by passion or appetite, unchanged by affection: but then 
 it is to be added, that he neither sees, nor hears, nor 
 perceives things by any senses like ours ; but in a man- 
 ner infinitely more perfect. Now, as it is an absurdity 
 almost too gro^s to be mentioned, for a man to endea- 
 vour to get rid of his senses^ because the Supreme Being 
 discerns tilings more perfectly without them ; it is a real,^ 
 though not so obvious an absurdity, to endeavour to 
 eradicate the passions he has given us, because he is 
 without them. For, since our passions are as really 
 
 E2 , 
 
68 UPON COMPASSION. [Sbb. V. 
 
 a part of our constitution as our senses; since the former 
 2is really belong to our condition of nature as the 
 latter to get rid of either is equally a violation of, and 
 breaking in upon, that nature and constitution he has 
 given us. Both our senses and our passions are a sup- 
 ply to the imperfection of our nature: thus they show- 
 that we are such sort of creatures, as to stand in need 
 of those helps which higher orders of creatures do not. 
 But it is n6t the supply, but the deficiency; as it is not a 
 remedy, but a disease, which is the imperfection. How- 
 ever, our appetites, passions, senses, no way imply 
 disease : nor indeed do they imply deficiency or imperfec- 
 tion of any sort; but only this, that the constitution of 
 nature, according to which God has made us, is such as 
 to require them. And it is far from being true, that a 
 wise man must entirely suppress compassion, and all 
 fellow feeling for others, as a weakness; and trust to 
 reason alone to teach and enforce upon him the practice 
 of the several charities we owe to our kind ; that, on the 
 contrary, even the bare exercise of such affections would 
 itself be for the good and happiness of the world ; and 
 the imperfection of the higher principles of reason and 
 religion in man, the little influence they have upon our 
 practice, and the strength and prevalency of contrary 
 ones, plainly require these affections to be a restraint 
 upon these latter, and a supply to the deficiencies of the 
 former. 
 
 First, The very exercise itself of these affections in a 
 just and reasonable manner and degree, would upon the 
 whole increase the satisfactions, and lessen the miseries 
 of hfe. 
 
 It is the tendency and business of virtue and religion 
 to procure, as much as may be, universal good- will, trust, 
 and friendship amongst mankind. If this could be 
 brought to obtain; and each man enjoyed the happiness 
 of others, as every one does thattf a friend; and looked 
 upon the success and prosperity of his neighbour, as 
 every one does upon that of his children and family ; it 
 is too manifest to be insisted upon, how much the enjoy- 
 ments of life would be increased. There would be so 
 mucli happiness introduced into the world, without auv 
 
Shi. v.] upon COMPASSION. 69 
 
 deduction or inconvenience from it, in proportion as the 
 precept of rejoicing loith those who rejoice was universally 
 obeyed. Our Saviour has owned this good affection as 
 belonging to our nature, in the parable of the lost sheep; 
 and does not think it to the disadvantage of a perfect 
 state, to represent its happiness as capable of increase, 
 from reflection upon that of others. 
 
 But since in such a creature as man, compassion or 
 sorrow for the distress of others seems so far necessarily 
 connected with joy in their prosperity, as that whoever 
 rejoices in one must unavoidably compassionate the 
 other; there cannot be that delight or satisfaction, which 
 appears to be so considerable, without the inconven- 
 iences, whatever they are, of compassion. 
 
 However, without considering this connexion, there 
 is no doubt but that more good than evil, more delight 
 than sorrow, arises from compassion itself; there being 
 so many things which balance the sorrow of it. There 
 is first the relief which the distressed feel from this affec- 
 tion in others towards them. There is likewise the ^A- 
 ditional misery which they would feel from the reflec- 
 tion, that no one commiserated their case. It is indeed 
 true, that any disposition, prevailing beyond a certain 
 degree, becomes somewhat wrong ; and we have ways 
 of speaking, which, though they do not directly express 
 that excess, yet, always lead our thoughts to it, and give 
 us the notion of it. Thus, when mention is made of de- 
 light in being pitied, this always conveys to our mind 
 the notion of somewhat which is really a weakness : the 
 manner of speaking, I say, implies a certain weakness 
 and feebleness of mind, which is and ought to be disap- 
 proved. But men of the greatest fortitude would in 
 distress feel uneasiness, from knowing that no person 
 in the world had any sort of compassion or real concern 
 for them; and in some. cases, especially when the tem- 
 per is enfeebled by sickness, or any long and great dis- 
 tress, doubtless, would feel a kind of relief even from the 
 helpless good-will and ineffectual assistances of those 
 about them. Over against the sorrow of compassion is 
 likewise to be set a peculiar calm kind of satisfaction, 
 which accompanies it, unless in cases where the distress 
 
70 UPON COMPASSION. [Siai. V.' 
 
 of another is by some means so brought home to our- 
 selves, as to become in a manner our own; or when from 
 weakness of mind the affection rises too high, which 
 ought to be corrected. This tranquilUty or calm satis- 
 faction proceeds partly from consciousness of a right af- 
 fection and temper of mind, and partly from a sense of our 
 own freedom from the misery we compassionate. This 
 last may possibly appear to some at first sight faulty ; 
 but it really is not so. It is the same with that positive 
 enjoyment, which sudden ease from pain for the present 
 affords, arising from a real sense of misery, joined with 
 a sense of our freedom from it; which in all cases must 
 afford some degree of satisfaction. 
 
 To these things must be added the observation, which 
 respects both the affections we are considering ; that 
 they who have got over all fellow feeling for others, have 
 withal contracted a certain callousness of heart, which 
 renders them insensible to most other satisfactions, but 
 those of the grossest kind. 
 
 ' Secondly, Without the exercise of these affections, 
 men would certainly be much more wanting in the of- 
 fices of charity they owe to each other, and likewise more 
 cruel and injurious, than they are at present. 
 
 The private interest of the individual would not be 
 sufficiently provided for by reasonable and cool self-love 
 alone; therefore the appetites and passions are placed 
 within as a guard and further security, without which it 
 would not be taken due care of. It is manifest our life 
 would be neglected, were it not for the calls of hunger, 
 and thirst, and weariness ; notwithstanding that without 
 them reason would assure us, that the recruits of food 
 and sleep are the necessary means of our preservation. 
 It is therefore absurd to imagine, that without affection, 
 the same reason alone would be more effectual to en- 
 gage us to perform the duties we owe to our fellow 
 creatures. One of this make would be as defective, as 
 much wanting, considered with respect to society, as one 
 of the former make would be defective, or wanting, 
 considered as an individual, or in his private capacity. 
 Is it possible any can in earnest think, that a public spirit, 
 i. e. a settled reasonable principle of benevolence to 
 
Sfen. V.l UPON COMPASSION. 71 
 
 mankind, is so prevalent and strong in the spedes,as that 
 we may venture to throw off this under aifections, which 
 are its assistants, carry it forward and mark out particu- 
 lar courses for it; family, friends, neighbourhood, the 
 distressed, our country? The common joys and the 
 common sorrows, which belong to these relations and 
 circumstances, are as plainly useful to society, as the 
 pain and pleasure belonging to hunger, thirst, and weari- 
 ness, are of service to the individual. In defect of that 
 higher principle of reason, compassion is often the only 
 way by which the indigent can have access to us : and 
 therefore, to eradicate this, though it is not indeed for- 
 mally to deny them that assistance which is their due ; 
 yet it is to cut them off from that which is too frequently 
 their only way of obtaining it. And as for those who 
 have shut up this door against the complaints of the 
 miserable, and conquered this affection in themselves ; 
 even these persons will be under great restraints from 
 the same affection in others. Thus a man who has him- 
 self no sense of injustice, cruelty, oppression, will be 
 kept from running the utmost lengths of wickedness, by 
 fear of that detestation, and even resentment of inhu- 
 manity, in many particular instances of it, which com- 
 passion for the object towards whom svich inhumanity 
 is exercised, excites in the bulk of mankind. And this 
 is frequently the chief danger, and the chief restraint, 
 which tyrants and the great oppressors of the world 
 feel. 
 
 In general, experience will show, that as want of 
 natural appetite to food supposes and proceeds from 
 some bodily disease ; so the apathy the Stoics talk of, as 
 much supposes, or is accompanied with, somewhat amiss 
 'in the moral character, in that which is the health of the 
 mind. Those who formerly aimed at this upon the foot 
 of philosophy, appear to have had better success in 
 eradicating the affections of tenderness and compassion, 
 than they had with the passions of envy, pride, and re- 
 .sentment: these latter, at best, were but concealed, and 
 that imperfectly too. How far this observation may be 
 extended to such as endeavour to suppress the natural 
 -impulses of their affections, in order to form themselves 
 
72 UPON COMPASSION.. [Sd. Ti 
 
 for business and the world, I shall not determine. But 
 there does not appear any capacity or relation to be 
 named, in which men ought to be entirely deaf to the 
 calls of affection, unless the judicial one is to be ex- 
 cepted. 
 
 And as to those who are commonly called the men of 
 pleasure, it is manifest, that the reason they set up for 
 hardness of heart, is to avoid being interrupted in their 
 course, by the ruin and misery they are the authors of.*: 
 neither are persons of this character always the most 
 free from the impotencies of envy and resentment. 
 What may men at last bring themselves to, by suppres- 
 sing their passions and affections of one kind, and leav- 
 ing those of the other in their full strength ? But surely 
 it might be expected that persons who make pleasure 
 their study and their business, if they understood what 
 they profess, would reflect, how many of the entertain- 
 ments of life, how many of those kind of amusements, 
 which seem peculiarly to belong to men of leisure and 
 1 education, they become insensible to by this acquired 
 hardness of heart. 
 
 I shall close these reflections with barely mentioning: 
 the behaviour of that divine Person, who was the exam- 
 ple of all perfection in human nature, as represented in 
 the Gospels mourning, and even, in a literial sense,, 
 weeping over the distresses of his creatures. 
 
 The observation already made, that, of the two affec- 
 tions mentioned in the text, the latter exerts itself much 
 more than the former; that, from the original constitu- 
 tion of human nature, we much more generally and 
 sensibly compassionate the distressed, than rejoice with 
 the prosperous, requires to be particularly considered^ 
 This observation, therefore, with the reflections which 
 arise out of it, and which it leads our thoughts to, shall 
 he the subject of another discourse. 
 
 For the conclusion of this, let me just take notice of 
 the danger of over-great refinements; of going besides 
 or beyond the plain, obvious, first appearances of things^ 
 upon the subject of morals and religion. The least ob- 
 servation will show, how little the generality of men are 
 capable of speculations. Therefore morality and rehgioa 
 
S«B.V.] UPON COMPASSION. 73 
 
 must be somewhat plain and easy lo be understood: it 
 must appeal to wiiat we call plain common sense, as 
 distinguished from superior capacity and improvement ; 
 because it appeals to mankind. Persons of superior 
 capacity and improvement have often fallen into errors, 
 which no one of mere common understanding could. 
 Is it possible that one of this latter character could ever 
 of himself have thought, that there was absolutely no 
 such thing in mankind as affection to the good of others .►* 
 Suppose of parents to their children ; or that what he 
 felt upon seeing a friend in distress was only fear for him- 
 self; or, upon supposition of the affections of kindness 
 and compassion, that it was the business of wisdom and 
 virtue to set him about extirpating them as fast as he 
 could ? And yet each of these manifest contradictions 
 to nature has been laid down by men of speculation, as 
 a discovery in moral philosophy; which they, it seems, 
 have found out through all the specious appearances to 
 the contrary. This reflection may be extended further. 
 The extravagancies of enthusiasm and superstition do 
 not at all lie in the road of common sense ; and there- 
 fore, so far as they are original mistakes, must be owing 
 to going beside or beyond it. Now, since inquiry and 
 examination- can /relate only to things so ol^scure and 
 uncertain as to stand in need of it, and to persons who 
 are capable of it ; the proper advice to be given to plain 
 honest men, to secure them from the extremes both of 
 superstition and irreligion, is that of the son of Sirach : 
 In every good work trust thy own soul ; for this is the 
 keeping of the commandmeni.* 
 
 * Sctiea.xssM.fiH. 
 
74 UPON COMPASSION. Sh. VI. 
 
 SERMON VI. 
 
 UPON COMPASSION. 
 
 PBEACUED TIIE IIRST SUNDAY IN I-ENT. 
 
 Mejoice with Hiem that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep, — 
 Rom. xii. 15. 
 
 There is a much more exact correspondence between 
 the natural and moral world, than we are apt to take 
 notice of. The inward frame of man does in a peculiar 
 manner answer to the external condition and circum- 
 stances of life, in which he is placed. This is a particular 
 instance of that general observation of the son of Sirach: 
 All things are double one against another, and God hath 
 made nothing imperfect* The several passions and af- 
 fections in the heart of man, compared with the circum- 
 stances of life in which \\e is placed, aflFord, to such as 
 [ "will attend to them, as certain instances of final causes, 
 as any whatever, which are more commonly alleged for 
 such: since those affections lead him to a certain deter- 
 minate course of action suitable to those circumstances, 
 as (for instance) compassion, to relieve the distressed. 
 And as all observations of final causes, drawn from the 
 principles of action in the heart of man, compared with 
 the condition he is placed in, serve all the good uses 
 which instances of final causes in the material world 
 ■about us dm ; and both these are equally proofs of wisdom 
 and design in the Author of nature: so the former serve 
 to further good purposes ; they show us what course of 
 life we are made for, what is our duty, and in a peculiar 
 manlier enforce upon us the practice of it. 
 
 Suppose we are capable of happiness and of misery in 
 degrees equally intense and extreme, yet, we are capable 
 of the latter for a much longer time, beyond all com- 
 parison. We see men in the tortures of pain for hours, 
 ■days, and, excepting the short suspensions of sleep, for 
 months together,*without intermission; to which no en- 
 joyments of life do, in degree and cont'nuance, bear any 
 
 * Ecclus. xlii. 24. 
 
«i«.VI.] UPON COMPASSION. 75 
 
 sort of proportion. And such is our make and that of \ 
 the world about us, that any thing may become the 
 mstrument of pain and sorrow to us. Thus almost any 
 one man is capable of doing mischief to any other, though 
 he may not be capable of doing him good: and if he be 
 capable of doing him some good, he is capable of doing 
 him more evil. And it is, in numberless cases, much 
 more in our power to lessen the miseries of others, than 
 to promote their positive happiness, any otherwise than 
 as the former often includes the latter; ease from misery 
 occasioning for some time the greatest positive enjoy- 
 ment. This constitution of nature, namely, that it is so 
 much more in dur power to occasion and likewise to 
 lessen misery, than to promote positive happiness, plainly 
 required a particular aifection, to hinder us from abusing, 
 and to incline us to make a right use of the former 
 £0wers, i. e. the powers both to occasion and to lessen 
 misery; over and above what was necessary to induce 
 us to make a right use of the latter power, that of pro- 
 moting positive happiness. The power we have over 
 the misery of our fellow creatures, to occasion or lessen 
 it, being a more important trust than the power we have 
 of promoting their positive happiness; the former re- 
 quires and has a further, an additional security and 
 guard against its being violated, beyond and over and 
 above what the latter has. The social nature of man, 
 and general good-will to his species, equally prevent him 
 from doing evil, incline him to relieve the distressed, and 
 to promote the positive happiness of his fellow creatures: 
 but compassion only restrains him from the first, and 
 carries him to the second; it hath nothing to do with the 
 third. 
 
 The fin al causes then of compassion are to prevent 
 and_io relieve misery. 
 
 As to the former: this affection may plainly be a 
 restrainrupon resentment, envy, unreasonable self-love; 
 that is, upon all the principles from which men do evil 
 to one another. Let us instance only in resentment. 
 It seldom happens, in regulated societi^, that men have 
 an enemy so entirely in their power, as to be able to 
 satiate their resentment with safety. But if we were to 
 
76 UPON COMPASSION. [Seb. VI. 
 
 put tnis case, it is plainly supposable, that a person might 
 bring his enemy into such a condition, as from being the 
 object of anger and rage, to become an object of com- 
 passion, even to himself, though the most mahcious man 
 in the world: and in thi& case compassion would stop 
 him, if he could stop with safety, from pursuing his re- 
 venge any further. But since nature has placed within 
 us more powerful resframts to prevent mischief, SSd 
 since the finaLcause of compassion is much more to 
 relieve misery, let us -go on to the consideration of it in 
 this yjew. 
 
 As this world was not intended to be a state of any 
 great satisfaction or high enjoyment; so neither was it 
 intended to be a mei'e scene of unhappiness and sorrow. 
 Mitigations and reliefs are provided by the merciful 
 Author of nature, for most of the aflflictions in human 
 life. There is kind provision made even against our 
 frailties ; as we are so constituted, that time abundantly 
 abates our sorrows, and begets in us that resignment of 
 temper, which ought to have been produced by a better 
 cause ; a due sense of the authority of God, and our state 
 of dependence. This holds in respect to far the greatest 
 part of the evils of life ; I suppose, in some degree as to 
 pain and sickness. Now this part of the constitution or 
 jmake of man, considered as some relief to misery, and 
 not as provision for positive happiness, is, if I may so 
 speak, an instance of nature's compassion for us: and 
 every natural remedy or relief to misery may be con- 
 sidered in the same view. 
 
 But since in many cases it is very much in our power 
 ito alleviate the miseries of each other; and benevolence, 
 though natural in man to man, yet is in a very low degree 
 kept down by interest and competitions ; and men, for 
 the most part, are so engaged in the business and 
 pleasures of the world, as to overlook and turn away 
 from objects of misery; which are plainly considered as 
 [interruption^ to them in their way, as intruders upon 
 (their business, their gaiety and mirth; compassion is an 
 iadvocate within «is in their behalf, to gain the unhappy 
 Admittance and access, to make their case attended to. 
 If it sometimes serves a contrary purpose, and makes 
 
Sir. VI.] UPON COMPASSION. 77 
 
 men industriously turn away from the miserable, these 
 are only instances of abuse and perversion : for the end, 
 for which the affection was given us, most certainly is not 
 to make us avoid, but to make us attend to, the objects 
 of it. And if men would only resolve to allow thus much 
 to it; let it bring before their view, the view of their 
 mind, the miseries of their fellow creatures;, let it gain 
 Ibr them that their case be considered ; I am persuaded 
 it would not fail of gaining more, and that very few real , 
 objects of charity would pass unrelieved. Pain and 
 sorrow and misery have a right to our assistance : com- , 
 passion puts us in mind of the debt, and that we owe it 
 to ourselves as well as to the distressed. For, to en- 
 deavour to get rid of the sorrow of compassion by turning 
 from the wretched, when yet it is in our power to relieve 
 them, is as unnatural, as to endeavour to get rid of the 
 pain of hunger by keeping from the sight of food. That 
 we can do one with greater success than we can the 
 other, is no proof that one is less a violation of nature 
 than the other. Compassion is a call, a demand of na- 
 turej to relieve the unhappy; as hunger is a natural call 
 Xor food. This affection plainly gives the objects of it 
 an additional claim to relief and mercy, over and above 
 what our fellow creatures in common have to our good-will. 
 Liberality and bounty are exceedingly commendable ; and 
 a particular distinction in such a world as this, where men 
 set themselves to contract their heart, and close it to all 
 interests but their own. It is by no means to be opposed 
 to mercy, but always accompanies it: the distinction 
 between them is only, that the former leads our thoughts 
 to a more promiscuous and undistinguished distribution 
 of favours ; to those who are not, as well as those who 
 are necessitous; whereas the object of compassion is 
 misery. But in the comparison, and where there is not 
 a possibility of both, mercy is to have the preference: 
 the affection of compassion manifestly leads us to this 
 preference. Thus, to relieve the indigent and distressed, 
 to single out the unhappy, from whom can be expected 
 no returns either of present entertainment or future ser- 
 vice, for the objects of our favours; to esteem a man's 
 being friendless as a recommendation; dejection, and 
 
78 UPON COMPASSION, [Sra. VI, 
 
 incapacity of struggling through the world, as a motive 
 for assisting him ; in a word, to consider these circum- 
 stances of disadvantage, which are usually thought a 
 sufficient reason for neglect and overlooking a person, 
 as a motive for helping him forward: this is the course 
 of benevolence which compassion marks out and 
 directs us to: this is that humanity, which is so pe- 
 culiarly becoming our nature and circumstances in this 
 world. 
 
 To these considerations, drawn from the nature_jlf 
 man^ must be added the reason of the thing itself we are 
 recommending, which accords to and shows the_sauie. 
 For since it is so much more in our power to lessen the 
 misery of our fellow creatures, than to promote their 
 positive happiness; in cases where there is an inconsis- 
 tency, we shall be likely to do much more good by setting 
 ourselves to mitigate the former, than by endeavouring 
 to promote the latter. Let the competition be between 
 the poor and the rich. It is easy, you will say, to see 
 which will have the preference. True : but the question 
 is, which ought to have the preference .P What propor- 
 tion is there between the happiness produced by doing a 
 favour to the indigent, and that produced by doing the 
 same favour to one in easy circumstances. P It is mani- 
 fest, that the addition of a very large estate to one who 
 before had an affluence, will in many instances yield 
 him less new enjoyment or satisfaction, than an ordinary 
 charity would yield to a necessitous person. So that it 
 is not only true, that our nature, i. e. the voice of God 
 within us, carries us to the exercise of charity and bene- 
 volence in the way of compassion or mercy, preferably 
 to any other way ; but we also manifestly discern much 
 more good done by the former; or, if you will allow me 
 the expressions, more misery annihilated, and happiness 
 created. If charity and benevolence, and endeavourin<» to 
 do good to our fellow creatures, be any thing, this obser- 
 vation deserves to be most seriously considered by alt 
 who have to bestow. And it holds with great exactness, 
 when applied to the several degret s of greatei^and less 
 indigency throughout the various ranks in human life : 
 the happiness or good produced not being in proportion 
 
Siti. VI.J UPON COMPASSION. 79 
 
 to what is bestowed, but in proportion to this joined with 
 tbe need there was of it. 
 
 It may perhaps be expected, that upon this subject 
 notice should be taken of occasions, circumstances, and 
 characters, which seem at once to call forth affections of 
 different sorts. Thus vice may be thought the object 
 both of pity and indignation: folly, of pity and of laughter. 
 How far this is strictly true, I shall not inquire; but only 
 observe upon the appearance, how much more humane 
 it is to yield and give scope to affections, which are most 
 directly in favour of, and friendly towards, our fellow 
 creatures; and that there is plainly much less danger of 
 being led wrong by these, than by the other. 
 
 But, notwithstanding all that has been said in recom- 
 mendation of compassion, that it is most amiable, most 
 becoming human nature, and moSt useful to the world; 
 yet it must be owned, that every affection, as distinct 
 from a principle of reason, may rise too high, and be 
 beyond its just proportion. And by means of this one 
 carried too far, a man throughout his life is subject to 
 much more uneasiness than belongs to his share : and in 
 particular instances, it may be in such a degree as to 
 incapacitate him from assisting the very person who is 
 the object of it. But as there are some who upon prin- 
 ciple set up for suppressing this affection itself as weak- 
 ness, there is also I know not what of fashion on this 
 side; and, by some means or other, the whole world 
 almost is run into the extremes of insensibility towards 
 the distresses of their fellow creatures: so that general 
 rules and exhortations must always be on the other side. 
 
 And now to go on to the uses we should make of the 
 foregoing reflections, the further ones they lead to, and 
 the general temper they have a tendency to beget in us. 
 There being that distinct affection implanted in the na- 
 ture of man, tending to lessen the miseries of life, that 
 particular provision made for abating its sorrows, more 
 than for increasing its positive happiness, as before ex- 
 plained; this may suggest to us what should be our gen- 
 eral aim respecting ourselves, in our passage through this 
 world: namely, to endeavour chiefly to escape misery, 
 keep free from uneasiness, pain, and sorrow, or to get 
 
80 UPON COMPASSION. [Skb. VT. 
 
 relief and mitigation of them ; to propose to ourselves 
 peace and tranquillity of mind, rather than pursue after 
 high enjoyments. This is what the constitution of nature 
 before explained marks out as the course we should fol- 
 low, and the end we should aim at. To make pleasure 
 and mirth and jollity our business, and be constantly hur- 
 rying about after some gay amusement, some new grati- 
 fication of sense or appetite, to those who will consider the 
 nature of man and our condition in this world, will appear 
 the most romantic scheme of life that ever entered into 
 thought. And yet how many are there who go on in 
 -this course, without learning better from the daily, the 
 hourly disappointments, listlessness, and satiety, which 
 accompany this fashionable method of Wasting away their 
 days! 
 
 The subject we have been insisting upon would lead 
 us into the same kind of reflections, by a different con- 
 nexion. The miseries of life brought home to ourselves 
 by compassion, viewed through this affection considered 
 as the sense by which they are perceived, >vould beget' 
 in us that moderation, humility, and soberness of mind, 
 which has been now recommended; and which peculiarly 
 belongs to a season of recollection, the only purpose of 
 which is to bring us to a just sense of things, to recover 
 us out of that forgetfulness of ourselves, and our true 
 state, whicli it is manifest far the greatest part of men 
 pass their whole life in. Upon this account Solomon 
 says, that it is better to go to the house of mourning, than 
 to go to the house of feasting ; i. e. it is more to a man's 
 advantEige to turn his eyes towards objects of distress, to 
 recall sometimes to his remembrance the occasions of 
 sorrow, than to pass all his days in thoughtless mirth 
 and gaiety. And he represents the wise as choosing to 
 frequent the former of these places ; to be sure not for 
 its own sake, but because by the sadness of the counte- 
 nance the heart is made better. Every one observes how 
 temperate and reasonable men are when humbled and 
 brought low by afflictions, in comparison of what they 
 are in high prosperity. By this voluntary resort to the 
 house of mourning, which is here recommended, we 
 , might learn all those useful instructions which calamities 
 
Seh. VI.] UPON COMPASSION. 81 
 
 teach, without undergoing them ourselves; and grow 
 wiser and better at a more easy rate than men com- 
 monly do. The objects themselves, which in that place; 
 <3f sorrow lie before our view, naturally give us a seri-' 
 ousness and attention, check that wantonness which is 
 the growth of prosperity and ease, and lead us to reflect \ 
 upon the deficiencies of human life itself; that every man, 
 at his best estate, is altogetlier vanity. This would correct ; 
 the florid and gaudy prospects and expectations which 
 we are too apt to indulge,^ teach us to lower our notions ; 
 of happiness and enjoyment, bring them down to the I 
 reality of things, to what is attciinable, to what the frailty '• 
 of our condition will admit of, which, for any continu- 
 ance, is only tranquillity, ease, and moderate satisfac- 
 tions. Thus we might at once become proof against the 
 temptations with whiph the whole world almost is carried 
 away ; since it is plain, that not only what is called a life of 
 pleasure, but also vicious pursuits in general, aim at some- 
 -what besides and beyond these moderate satisfactions. 
 
 And as to that obstinacy and wilfulness, which renders 
 men so insensible to the motives of religion; this right 
 sense of ourselves and of the world about us would bend 
 the stubborn mind, soften the heart, and make it more 
 apt to receive impression: and this is the proper temper 
 in which to call our ways to remembrance, to review and 
 set home upon ourselves the miscarriages of our past 
 life. In such a compliant state of mind, reason and 
 conscience will have a fair hearing; which is the pre- 
 paration for, or rather the beginning of, that repentance, 
 the outward show of which we all put on at this season. 
 
 Lastly, The various miseries of life which lie before us ' 
 wherever we turn our eyes, the frailty of this mortal state \ 
 we are passing through, may put us in mind that the 
 present world is not our home; that we are merely 
 strangers and travellers in it, as all our fathers were. 
 It is therefore to be considered as a foreign country; in 
 which our poverty and wants, and the insufficient sup- 
 plies of them, were designed to turn our views to that 
 higher and better state we are heirs to: a state where 
 Avill be no follies to be overlooked, no miseries to be 
 pitied, no wants to be relieved; where the affection we 
 
82 UPON THE CHARACTER £Sbb. VIIi 
 
 have been now treating of will happily be lost, as there- 
 will be no objects to exercise it upon: for Godsliall wipe 
 away all tears from their eyes, and there shall be no more 
 death, neitlier sorrow, nor crying : neither shall there be 
 any more vain; for the former things are passed away. 
 
 SERMON VII. 
 
 UPON THE CHARACTER OF BALAAM. 
 
 FREACHEXI THE SECOND SUNDAY AFTEK EASTER. 
 
 Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his. 
 Numb, xxiii. 10. 
 
 These words, taken alone, and without respect to him 
 who spoke them, lead our thoughts immediately to' the 
 different ends of good and bad men. For though the 
 comparison is not expressed, yet it is manifestly implied; 
 as is also the preference of one of these characters to 
 the other in that last circumstance, death. And, since 
 dying the death of the righteous or of the wicked neces- 
 sarily implies men's being righteous or wicked, i. e. 
 having lived righteously or wickedly; a comparison of 
 them in tlieir lives also might come into consideration, 
 from such a single view of the words thems,elves. But 
 my present design is to consider them with a particular 
 reference or respect to him who spoke them ; which 
 reference, if you please to attend, you will see. And il 
 what shall be offered to your consideration at this time 
 be thought a discourse upon the whole history of this 
 man, rather than upon the particular words I have read^ 
 this is of no consequence ; it is sufficient, if it afford re- 
 flection of use and service to ourselves. 
 
 But, in order to avoid cavils respecting this remarkabfe 
 relation in Scripture, either that part of it which you 
 have heard in the first lesson for the day, or any others; 
 let me just observe, that as this is not a place tor an- 
 swering them, so they no way affect the following dis- 
 course; since the character there given is plainly a real 
 one m life, and such as there are parallels to. 
 
Ske. VII.] OF BALAAM. 83 
 
 The occasion of Balaam's coming out of his own 
 country into the land of Moab, where he pronounced 
 this solemn prayer or wish, he himself relates in the 
 first parable or prophetic speech, of which it is the con- 
 clusion. In which is a custom referred to, proper to be 
 taken notice of: that of devoting enemies to destruction, 
 before the entrance upon a war with them. This custom 
 appears to have prevailed over a great part of the world ; 
 for we find it amongst the most distant nations. The 
 Romans had public officers, to whom it belonged as a 
 stated part of their office. But there was somewhat 
 more particular in the case now before us; Balaam 
 being looked upon as an extraordinary person, whose 
 blessing or curse was thought to be always effectual. 
 
 In order to engage the reader's attention to this pas- 
 sage, the sacred historian has enumerated the preparatory 
 circumstances, which are these. Balaam requires the 
 king of Moab tO; build him seven altars, and to prepare 
 him the same number of oxen and of rams. The sacri- 
 fice being over, he retires alone to a solitude sacred to 
 these occasions, there to wait the divine inspiration or 
 answer, for which the foregoing rites were the prepara- 
 tion. And God met Balaam, and put a word in his 
 mouth;* upon receiving which, he returns back to the 
 altars, where was the king, who had all this while at- 
 tended the sacrifice, as appointed ; he and all the princes 
 of Moab standing, big with expectation of the prophet's 
 reply. And he took up his parable, and said, Balak the 
 king of Moab hath brought me from Aram, out of the 
 mountains of the east, saying, Com£, curse me Jacob, and 
 com£, defy Israel. How shall I curse, whom God hath not 
 cursed ? Or how shall I defy, whom the Lord hath not 
 defied? For from the top of the rocks I see him, and from 
 the hills I behold him : lo, the people shall dwell alone, and 
 shall not be reckoned among the nations. Who can count 
 the dust of Jacob, and the number of the fourth part of 
 Israel.^ Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my 
 last end be like his.f 
 
 It is necessary, as you will see in the progress of this 
 discourse, particularly to observe what he understood 
 
 * Ver. 4, 5. + Ver. 6 
 
 F2 
 
84 ' UPON THE CHARACTER [See, VH. 
 
 by righteous. And he himself is introduced in the 
 book of Micah* explaining it; if by ricfhteous is meant 
 good, as to be sure it is. O my people, remember now 
 what Balak king of Moab consulted, and what Balaam 
 the son of Beor answered him from Shittim unto Gilgal. 
 From the mention of Shittim, it is manifest, that it is 
 this very story which is here referred to, though another 
 part of it, the account of which is not now extant; as 
 there are many quotations- in Scripture out of books 
 which are not come down to us. Remember what Balaam 
 answered, that ye may know the righteousness of the Lord ; 
 1. e. the righteousness which God will accept. Balak 
 demands, Wherewith shall I come before the Lord, and 
 bow myself before the high God ? Shall I come before him, 
 with burnt-offerings, with calves of a year old? Will the 
 Lord be pleased with thousands of rams, or with ten thou- 
 sands of rivers of oil ? Shall I give my first-bom for my 
 transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul? 
 Balaam answers him, Jle- hath showed thee, O man, what 
 is good: and what doth the Lord require of thee, but to do 
 justly^ and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with-tky- 
 God? Here is a good man expressly characterized, as 
 distinct from a dishonest and a superstitious man. No 
 words can more strongly exclude dishonesty and false- 
 ness of heart, than doing justice, and loving mercy : and 
 both these, as well as walking humbly with God, are put 
 in opposition to those ceremonial methods of recom- 
 mendation, which Balak hoped might have served the 
 turn. From bence^ appears what he meant by the 
 righteous whose death he desires to die. ^ - 
 
 Whether it was his own character shall now be in- 
 quired : and in order to determine it, we must take a 
 view of his whole behaviour upon this occasion. When 
 the elders of Moab came to him, though he appears to 
 have been much allured with the rewards offered, yet he 
 had such regard to the authority of God, as to keep the 
 messengers in suspense until he had consulted his will. 
 And God said to him, Thou shall not go with them, thou 
 shall not curse the people, for they are blessed.i Upon 
 this he dismisses the ambassadors, with an absolute re- 
 
 * MicaU vi. f Chap. xxii. 12. 
 
Sbk. Vn.] ' OF BALAAM. 85 
 
 fusal of accompanying them back to tlieir king. Thus 
 far his regards to duty prevailed, neither does there any 
 thing appear as yet amiss in his conduct. His answer 
 being reported to the king of Moab, a more honourable 
 embassy is immediately despatched, and greater rewards 
 proposed. Then the iniquity of his heart began to dis- 
 close itself A thorough honest man would without 
 hesitation have repeated his former answer, that he could 
 not be guilty of so infamous a prostitution of the sacred 
 character with which he was invested, as in the name of 
 a prophet to curse those whom he knew to be blessed. 
 But instead of this, which was the only honest part in 
 these circumstances that lay before him, he desires the 
 princes of Moab to tarry that night with him also ; and for 
 the sake of the reward deliberates, whether by some 
 means or other he might not be able to obtain leave to 
 curse Israel ; to do that, which had been before revealed 
 to him to be contrary to the will of God, which yet he 
 resolves not to do without that permission. Upon 
 which, as when this nation afterward rejected God from 
 reigning over them, he gave them a king in his anger ; 
 in the same way, as appears from other parts of the nar- 
 ration, he gives Balaam the permission he desired : for 
 this is the most natural sense of the words. Arriving 
 in the territories of Moab, and being received with par- 
 ticular distinction by the king, and he repeating in person 
 the promise of the rewards he had before made to him 
 by his ambassadors : he seeks, the text says, by sacrifices 
 and enchantments (what these were is not to our purpose), 
 to obtain leave of God to curse the people ; keeping still 
 his resolution, not to do it without that permission: 
 which not being able to obtain, he had such regard to 
 the command of God, as to keep this resohition to the 
 last. The supposition of his being under a supernatural 
 restraint is a mere fiction of Philo ; he is plainly repre- 
 sented to be under no other force or restraint, than the 
 fear of God. However, he goes on persevering in that 
 endeavour, after he had declared, that God had not be" 
 held iniquity in Jacob, neither had he seen perverseness in 
 Israel;* i. e. they were a people of virtue and piety, so 
 
 * Vcr. 21. 
 
S6 UPON THE CHARACTER (ISeb. Vli. 
 
 far as not to have drawn down, by their iniquity, that 
 curse which he was soliciting leave to pronounce upon 
 them. So that the state of Balaam's mind was this: he 
 wanted to do what he knew to be very wicked, and con- 
 trary to the express command of God; he had inward 
 checks and restraints, which he could not entirely^t 
 over; he therefore casts about for ways to reconcile Ais 
 wickedness with his duty. How great a paradox soever 
 this may appear, as it is indeed a contradiction in terms, 
 it is the very account which the scripture gives us of him. 
 
 But there is a more surprising piece of iniquity yet be- 
 hind. Not daring in his religious character, as a prophet, 
 to assist the king of Moab, he considers whether there 
 might not be found some other means of assisting him 
 against that very people, whom he himself by the fear of 
 God was restrained from cursing in words. One would 
 not think it possible, that the weakness, even of religious 
 self-deceit in its utmost excess, could have so poor a 
 ■distinction, so fond an evasion, to serve itself of. But 
 so it was: and he could think of no other method, than 
 to betray the children of Israel to provoke his wiath, 
 who was their only strength and defence. The tempta- 
 tion which he pitched upon, was that concerning which 
 Solomon afterward observed, that it had cast down many 
 wounded; yea, many strong men had been slain by it : and 
 of which he himself was a sad example, when his wives 
 turned away his Iieart after other gods. This succeeded: 
 the people sin against God; and thus the prophet's 
 counsel brought on that destruction, which he could by 
 no means be prevailed upon to assist with the religious 
 ceremony of execration, which the king of Moab thought 
 would itself have effected it. Their crime and punish- 
 ment are related in Deuteronomy,* and Numbers.t And 
 from the relation repeated in Numbers,^ it appears, that 
 Balaam was the contriver of the whole matter. It is 
 also ascribed to him in the Revelation,} where he is said 
 to have taught Balak to cast^ a stumbling-block before the 
 children of Israel. 
 
 This was the man, this Balaam, I say, was the man 
 who desired to die the death of the righteous, and that hi? 
 
 • Chap. iv. t Chap, xxv J Chap. xxxi. . $ Chap. n. 
 
^ra. FII-l OF BALAAM. 87 
 
 lusf end might be like his: and this was the state of his 
 mind, when he pronounced these words. 
 
 So that the object we have now before us is the most 
 astonishing in the world : a very wicked man, under a 
 deep sense of God and reUgion, persisting still in his 
 wickedness, and preferring the wages of unrighteousness, 
 even when he had before him a hvely view of death, and 
 ■that approaching period of his days, which should deprive 
 him of all those advantages for which he was prostitut- 
 ing himself; and likewise a prospect, whether certain or 
 uncertain, of a future state of retribution : all this joined 
 ■with an explicit ardent wish, that, when he was to leave 
 this world, he might be in the condition of a righteous 
 inan. Good God, what inconsistency, what perplexity 
 is here ! With what different views of things, with what 
 contradictory principles of action, must such a mind be 
 torn and distracted ! It was not unthinking carelessness, 
 bj which he ran on headlong in vice and folly, without 
 -ever making a stand to ask himself what he was doing: 
 no; he acted upon the cool motives of interest and ad- 
 vantage. Neither was he totally hard and callous to 
 impressions of rehgion, what we call abandoned; for he 
 absolutely denied to curse Israel. When reason assumes 
 her place, when convinced of his duty, when he owns 
 and feels, and is actually iinder the influence of the divine 
 authority ; whilst he is carrying on his views to the grave, 
 the end of all temporal greatness; under this sense of 
 things, with the better character and more desirable state 
 present — full before him — in his thoughts, in his wishes, 
 voluntarily to choose the worse — what fatality is here! 
 Or how otherwise can such a character be explained? 
 And yet strange as it may* appear, it is not altogether an 
 uncommon one: nay, with some small alterations, and 
 put a little lower, it is applicable to a very considerable 
 part of the world. For if the reasonable choice be seen 
 and acknowledged, and yet men make the unreasonable 
 one, is not this the same contradiction ; that very incon- 
 ^sistehcy, which appeared so unaccountable? 
 
 To give some little opening to such characters and 
 behaviour, it is to be observed in general, that there is 
 no account to he, given in the way of reason, of men's so 
 
88 UPON THE CHARACTER pmrVllt 
 
 strong attachments to the present world: our hopes an(f 
 fears and pursuits are in degrees beyond all proportion 
 to the known value of the things they respect. This- 
 may be said without taking into consideration religion 
 and a future state; and when these are considered, the 
 disproportion is infinitely heightened. Now when men 
 go against their reason, and contradict a more important 
 interest at a distance, for one nearer, though of less con- 
 sideration ; if this be the whole of the case, all that can 
 be said is, that strong passions, some kind of brute force 
 within, prevails over the principle of rationahty. How- 
 ever, if this be with a clear, full, and distingt view of the 
 truth of things, then it is doing the utmost violence to 
 themselves,, acting in the most palpable contradiction to 
 their very nature. But if there be any such thing in 
 mankind as putting half-deceits upon themselves; which 
 there plainly is, either by avoiding reflection, or (if they 
 do reflect) by religious equivocation, subterfuges, and- 
 palliating matters to themselves ; by these means con- 
 science may be laid asleep, and they may go on in a 
 course- of wickedness with less disturbance. All the 
 various turns, doubles, and intricacies in a dishonest 
 heart, cannot be unfolded or laid open ; but that there i» 
 somewhat of that kind is manifest, be it to be called self- 
 deceit, or by any other name. Balaam had before his 
 eyes the authority of God, absolutely forbidding hink 
 what he, for the sake of a reward, had the strongest in- 
 clination to: he was likewise in a state of mind sober 
 enough to consider death and his last end: by these 
 considerations he was restrained, first from going to the- 
 king of Moab; and after he did go, from cursing Israel. 
 But notwithstanding this, there was great wickedness in 
 his heart. He cquld not forego the rewards of unright- 
 eousness: he therefore first seeks for indulgences ;'¥nd. 
 when these could not be obtained, he sins against the 
 whole meaning, end, and design of the prohibition,, 
 which no consideration in the world could prevail with 
 him to go against the letter of. And surely that impious 
 counsel he gave to Balak against the children of Israel,, 
 •was, considered in itself, a greater piece of wickedness,, 
 than if he had cursed them in words. 
 
SbfuVII.J' of BALAAM. 89 
 
 If it be inquired what his situation, his hopes, and feara ! 
 were, in respect to this his wish ; the answer must be, i 
 that consciousness of the wickedness of his heart must 
 necessarily have destroyed all settled hopes of dying the 
 death of the righteous : he could have no calm satisfaction 
 in this view of his last end : yet, on the other hand, it is 
 possible that those partial regards to his duty, now men- 
 tioned, might keep him from perfect despair. 
 
 Upon the whole, it is manifest, that Balaam had the 
 most just and true notions of God and religion; as ap- 
 pears, partly from the original story itself, and more 
 plainly from the passage in Micah; where he explains 
 religion to consist in real virtue and real piety, expressly 
 distinguished from superstition, and in terms which most 
 strongly exclude dishonesty and falseness of heart. Yet 
 you see his behaviour: he seeks indulgences for plain 
 wickedness; which not being able to obtain, he glosses 
 over the same wickedness, dresses it up in a new form, 
 in order to make it pass off more easily with himself. 
 That is, he deliberately contrives to deceive and impose 
 upon himself, in a matter which he knew to be of the 
 utmost importance. 
 
 To bring these observations home to ourselves: it is 
 too evident, that many persons allow themselves in very 
 unjustifiable courses, who yet make great pretences to 
 religion; not to deceive the world, none can be so weak 
 as to think this will pass in our age ; but from principles, 
 hopes, and fears^ respecting God and a future state; and 
 go on thus with a sort of tranquillity and quiet of mind. 
 This cannot be upon a thorough consideration, and full 
 resolution, that the pleasures and advantages they pro- 
 pose are to be pursued at all hazards, against reason, 
 against the law of God, and though everlasting destruc- 
 tion is to be the consequence. This would be doing too 
 great violence upon themselves. No, they are for mak- 
 ing a composition with the Almighty. These of his 
 commands they will obey: but as to others — why they 
 will make all the atonements in their power; the ambi- 
 tious, the covetous, the dissolute man, each in a .way 
 which shall not contradict his respective pursuit. In- 
 dulgelDces before, which was Balaam's first attempt. 
 
so UPON THE CHARACTER [Sbb. VTL 
 
 though he was not so successful in it as to deceive him- 
 self, or atonements afterwards, are all the same. And 
 here perhaps come in faint hopes that they may, and 
 half-resolves that they will, one time or other, make 
 a change. 
 
 Besides these, there are also persons, who, from a 
 more just way of cqnsidering things, see the infinite 
 absurdity of this, of substituting sacrifice instead of 
 obedience; there are persons far enough from supersti- 
 tion, and not without some real sense of God and 
 rehgion upon their minds; who yet are guilty of most 
 unjustifiable practices, and go on with great coolness and 
 command over themselves. The same dishonesty and 
 unsoundness of heart discovers itself in these another 
 way. In all common ordinary cases we see intuitively 
 at first view what is our duty, what is the honest part. 
 This is the ground of the observation, that the first 
 thought is often the best. In these cases doubt and 
 deliberation is itself dishonesty; as it was in Balaam 
 upon the second message. That which is called con- 
 sidering what is our duty in a particular case, is very 
 often nothing but endeavouring to explain it away. 
 Thus those courses, which, if men would fairly attend to 
 the dictates of their own consciences, they would see to 
 be corruption, excess^ oppression, un charitableness ; 
 tHese'~are refined upon— things were so and so circum- 
 stantiated — great difficulties are raised about fixing 
 bounds and degrees : and thus every moral obligation 
 whatever may be evaded. Here is scope, I say, for an 
 unfair mind to explain away every moral obligation to 
 itself. Whether men reflect again upon this internal 
 management and artifice, and how explicit they are with 
 themselves, is another question. There are many oper- 
 ations of the mind, many things pass within, which we 
 never reflect upon again ; which a bystander, from hav- 
 ing frequent opportunities of observing us and our con- 
 duct, may make shrewd guesses at. 
 
 That grqat numbers are in this way of deceiving them- 
 selves is certain. There is scarce a man in the world, 
 who has entirely got over all regards, hopes, and fears, 
 concerning God and a future state ; and these apprehen- 
 
See. VII.] OF BALAAM. 9 1 
 
 sious in the generality, bad as we are, prevail in con- 
 siderable degrees : yet men will and can be wicked, with 
 calmness and thought ; we see they are. There must 
 therefore be some method of maki^ng it sit a little easy 
 upoii their minds; which, in the superstitious, is those 
 indulgences and atonements before mentioned, and this 
 self-deceit of another kind in persons of anodier charac- 
 ter. And both these proceed from a certain unfairness 
 of mind, a peculiar inward dishonesty; the direct con- 
 trary to that simplicity which our Saviour recommends, 
 under the notion of becoming little children, as a neces- 
 sary qualification for our entering into the kingdom of 
 heaven. 
 
 But to conclude: How much soever men differ in the 
 course of life they prefer, and in their ways of palliating 
 and excusing their vices to themselves ; yet all agree in 
 the one thing, desiring to die the death of the righteous. 
 This is surely remarkable. The observation may be ex- 
 tended further, and put thus: Even without determining 
 what that is which we call guilt or innocence, there is no 
 man but would choose, after having had the pleasure or 
 advantage of a vicious action, to be free of the guilt of 
 it, to be in the state of an innocent man. This shows at 
 jeast the disturbance and implicit dissatisfaction in vice. 
 If we inquire into the grounds of it, we shall find it pro- 
 ceeds partly from an immediate sense of having done 
 evil, and partly from an apprehension, that this inward 
 sense shall one time or another be seconded by a higher 
 judgment, upon which our whole being depends. Now 
 to suspend and drown this sense, and these apprehen- 
 sions, be it by the hurry of business or of pleasure, or by 
 superstition, or moral equivocations, this is in a manner 
 one and the same, and makes no alteration at all in the 
 nature of our case. Things and actions are what they 
 are, and the consequences of them will be what they will 
 be : why then should we desire to be deceived ? As we 
 are reasonable creatures, and have any regard to our- 
 selves, we ought to lay these things plainly and honestly 
 before our mind, and upon this, act as you please, as you 
 think most fit ; make that choice, and prefer that course 
 of life, which you can justify to yourselves, and which 
 
92 UPON RESENTMENT. [Seh. Vlll. 
 
 sits more easy upon your own mind. It will immedi- 
 ately appear, that vice cannot be the happiness, but must 
 upon the whole be the misery, of such a creature as man; 
 a moral, an accountable agent. Superstitious obser- 
 vances, self-deceit, though of a more refined sort, will 
 not in reaUty at all mend matters with us. And the re- 
 sult of the whole can be nothing else, but that with sim- 
 plicity and fairness we keep mnocency, and take heed unto 
 the thing that is right ; for this alone shall bring a man 
 peace at the last. 
 
 SERMON VIII. 
 
 UPON RESENTMENT. 
 
 Ye have heard thai it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy TieighhowPf 
 and hate thine enemy : but J say unto you, Love your enemies^ 
 bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate yon, and pray 
 for them which despiteftdly use you and persecute you. — Matth. v. 
 43, 44, 
 
 Since perfect goodness in the Deity is the principle 
 from whenoe the universe was brought into being, and 
 by which it is preserved; and since general benevolence 
 is the great law of the whole moral creation ; it is a 
 question which immediately occurs. Why had man im- 
 planted in him a principle, which appears the direct con- 
 trary to benevolence ? Now the foot upon which inquiries 
 of this kind should be treated is this : to take human na- 
 ture as it is, and the circumstances in which it is placed 
 as they are ; and then consider the correspondence be- 
 tween that nature and those circumstances, or what 
 course of action and behaviour, respecting those circum- 
 stances, any particular affection or passion leads us tOo 
 I This I mention to distinguish the matter now before us 
 frxjm disquisitions of quite another kind; namely. Why- 
 we are tiot made more perfect creatures, or placed in better 
 {circumstances.^ these being questions which we have 
 I not, that I know of, any thing at all to do with. God' 
 Almighty undoubtedly foresaw the disorders, both natural 
 
S».VUI.] , UPON RESENTMENT. 93 
 
 and moral, which would happen in this state of things. 
 If'upon this we set ourselves to search and examine why 
 he did not prevent them ; we shall, I am afraid, be in 
 danger of running into somewhat worse than impertinent 
 curiosity. But upon this to examine how far the nature 
 which he hath given us hath a respect to those circum- 
 stances, such as they are ; how far it leads us to act a 
 proper part in them ; plainly belongs to us : and such 
 inquirijes are in many ways of excellent use. Thus the 
 thing to be considered is, not. Why we were not made oj 
 such a nature, and placed in such circumstances, as to have 
 no need of so harsh and turbulent a passion as resentment .j 
 but, taking our nature and condition as being what theM 
 
 
 are, Why, or for what end such a passion was given us \ 
 and this chiefly in order to show what are the abuses of it] 
 
 The persons who laid down for a rule. Thou shall lovd 
 thy neighbour, and hate thine enemy, made short work 
 with this matter. They did not, it seems, perceive any 
 thing to be disapproved in hatred, more than in good- 
 will : and, according to their system of morals, our enemy 
 was the proper natural object of one of these passions, as 
 our neighbour was of the other of them. 
 
 This was all they had to say, and all they thought 
 needful to be said, upon the subject. But this cannot 
 be satisfactory ; because hatred, malice, and revenge, are 
 directly contrary to the religion we profess, and to the 
 nature and reason of the thing itself. Therefore, since 
 no passion God hath endued us with can be in itself 
 evil ; and yet since men frequently indulge a passion in 
 such ways and degrees that at length it becomes quite 
 another thing from what it was originally in our nature; 
 and those vices of malice and revenge in particular take 
 their occasion from the natural passion of resentment: 
 it will be needful to trace this up to its original, that we 
 may see what it is in itself, as placed in our nature by its 
 Author ; from which it will plainly appear, for what ends 
 it was placed there. And when we know what the pas- 
 \sion is in itself, and the ends of it, we shall easily see, 
 what are the abuses of it, in which malice and revenge con- 
 sist ; and which are so strongly forbidden in the text, by 
 the direct ■contrary being commanded. 
 
94 UPON RESENTMENT. [Seb. VUT. 
 
 Resentment is of two kinds : hasty and sudden, or 
 settled and deliberate. The former is called anger, and 
 often passion; which, though a general word, is fre- 
 quently appropriated and confined to the particular feel- 
 ing, sudden anger, as distinct from deliberate resentment, 
 malice, and revenge. In all these words is usually im- 
 plied somewhat vicious; somewhat unreasonable as to 
 the occasion of the passion, or immoderate as to the de- 
 gree or duration of it. But that the natural passion itself 
 is indifferent, St Paul has asserted in that precept. Be ye 
 angry, and sin not :* which though it is by no means to 
 be understood as an encoursigement to indulge ourselves 
 in anger, the sense being certainly this. Though ye be angry, 
 sin not; yet here is evidently a distinction made between 
 anger and sin; between the natural passion, and sinful anger. 
 
 Sudden anger, upon certain occasions, is mere instinct : 
 as merely so, as the disposition to close our eyes upon 
 the apprehension of somewhat falling into them ; and no 
 more necessarily implies any degree of reason. I say, 
 necessarily : for to be sure hasty, as well as deliberate, 
 anger may be occasioned by injury or contempt ; in which 
 leases reason suggests to our thoughts that injury and con- 
 j tempt, which is the occasion of the passion : but I am 
 speaking of the former only so far as it is to be distinguish- 
 ed from the latter. The only way in which our reason and 
 understanding can raise anger, is by representing to our 
 mind injustice or injury of some kind or other. Now mo- 
 mentary anger is frequently raised, not only without any 
 real, but without any apparent reason ; that is, without 
 any appearance of injury, as distinct from hurt or pain. 
 It cannot, I suppose, be thought, that this passion in 
 infants ; in the lower species of animals ; and, which is 
 often seen, in men towards them ; it cannot, I say, be 
 imagined, that tjiese instances of this passion are the 
 effect of reason : no, they are occasioned by mere sensa- 
 tion and feeling. It is opposition, sudden hurt, violence, 
 which naturally excites the passion ; and the real demerit 
 or fault of him who offers that violence, or is the cause oJ • 
 that opposition or hurt, does not, in many cases, so much 
 as come into thought. 
 
 * Ephes. iv. 26 
 
Sra. VIII.] UPON RESENTMENT. 95 
 
 The reason and end, for which man was made thiis| 
 liable to this passion, is, that he might be better qualified 
 to prevent, and likewise (or perhaps chiefly) to resist 
 and defeat, sudden force, violence, and opposition, con-! 
 sidered merely as such, and without regard to the fault | 
 or demerit of him who is the author of them. Yet, since j 
 violence may be considered in this other and further ( 
 view, as implying fault; and since injury, as distinct from 
 harm, may raise sudden anger; sudden anger may like- 
 wise accidentally serye to prevent, or remedy, such fault j 
 and injury. But, considered as distinct from settled 
 anger, it stands in our nature for self-defence, and not 
 for the administration of justice. There are plainly 
 cases, and in the uncultivated parts of the world, and, 
 where regular governments are not formed, they fre- 
 quently happen, in which there is no time for consider- 
 ation, and yet to be passive is certain destruction; in 
 which sudden resistance is the only security. 
 
 But from this, deliberate anger or resentment is essen-j 
 tially distinguished, as the latter is not naturally excited! 
 by, or intended to prevent mere harm without appearance' 
 of wrong or injustice. Now, in order to see, as exactly|> 
 as we can, what is the natural object and occasion of 
 such resentment; let us reflect upon the manner in 
 which we are touched with reading, suppose, a feigned 
 story of baseness and villany, properly worked up to 
 move our passions. This immediately raises indignation, 
 somewhat of a desire that it should be punished. And 
 though the designed injury be prevented, yet that it was 
 designed is sufficient to raise this inward feeling. Sup- 
 pose the story true, this inward feeling would be as 
 natural and as just: and one may venture to affirm, that 
 there is scarce a man in the world, but would have it 
 upon some occasions. It. sggms^ ms plainly co nnected 
 with_a^^nse of virtue and vice, of moral good and evil. 
 Suppose fiifthetvwff'knew bbT[iThS''persorrwho^'di^ and 
 who suffered the injury: neither would this make any 
 alteration, only that it would probably affect us more. 
 The indignation raised by cruelty and injustice, and the 
 desire of having it punished, which persons unconcerned 
 would feel, is by no means malice. liojt js resentment 
 
96 UPON RESENTMENT^ [Seb. Vin. 
 
 against vice and wickedness : it is one of the commou 
 bonds, by which society is beld together;' a fellow feeling, 
 which each individual has in behalf of the whole species, 
 as well as of himself. And it does not appear tharfliis, 
 generally speaking, is at all too high amongst mankind. 
 Suppose now the injury I have been speaking of to be 
 done against ourselves; or those whom we consider as 
 ourselves. It is plain, the way in which we should be 
 affected would be exactly the same in kind : but it would 
 certainly be in a higher degree, and less transient; be- 
 cause a sense of our own happiness and misery is most 
 intimately and always present to us ; and from the very 
 constitution of our nature, we cannot but have a greater 
 sensibility to, and be more deeply interested in, what 
 concerns ourselves. And this seems to be the whole of 
 this passion, which is, properly speaking, natural to 
 mankind: namely, a resentment against injury and 
 wickedness in general; and in a higher degree when 
 towards ourselves, in proportion to the greater regard 
 which men naturally hav^e for themselves, than for 
 others. From hence it appears, that it is not natural, 
 but moral evil ; it is not suffering, but injury, which 
 raises that anger or resentment, which is pf any con- 
 tinuance. The natural object of it is not one, ~who 
 appears to the suffering person to have been only the 
 innocent occasion of his pain or loss ; but one, who has 
 been in a moral sense injurious either to ourselves or 
 others. This is abundantly confirmed by observing what 
 it is which heightens or lessens resentment; namely, the 
 same which aggravates or lessens the fault: friendship, 
 and former obligations, on one hand; or inadvertency, 
 strong temptations, and mistake, on the other. All this 
 is so much understood by mankind, how little soever it 
 be reflected upon, that a person would be reckoned 
 quite distracted, who should coolly resent a harm, which 
 had not to himself the appearance of injury or wrong. 
 Men do indeed resent what is occasioned through care- 
 lessness: but then they expect observance as their due, 
 and so that carelessness is considered as faulty. It is 
 likewise true, that they resent more strongly an injury 
 done, than one which, though designed, was prevented. 
 
«Eii. VIII.] UPON RESENTMENT. 97 
 
 in cases where the guilt is perhaps the same : the reason 
 however is, not that bare pain or loss raises resentment, 
 but, that it gives a new, and, as I may speak, additional 
 sense of the injury or injustice. According to the natural 
 course of the passions, the degrees of resentment are in 
 proportion, not only to the degree of design and delibera- 
 tion in the injurious person; but in proportion to this, 
 joined with the degree of the evil designed or premedi- 
 tated; since this likewise comes in to make the injustice 
 greater or less. And the evil or harm will appear greater 
 when they feel it, than when they only reflect upon it: so 
 therefore will the injury: and consequently the resent- 
 ment will be greater. 
 
 T he natura Lobj&ct or occasion of settled resentment 
 then being injury, as distinct from pain or loss ; it is easy 
 fo"see, that to prevent and to remedy such injury, and the 
 mi series ar ising from it. is the end for which this. passion 
 JK3^-Jx!iplaDJted-in..man. It is to be considered as a 
 weapon, put into our hands by nature, against injury, 
 injustice, and cruelty: how it may be innocently em- 
 ployed and made use of, shall presently be mentioned. 
 
 The account which has been now given of this passion 
 is, in brief, that sudden anger is raised by, and was 
 chiefly intended to prevent or remedy, mere harm distinct 
 from injury; but that it may be raised by injury, and may 
 serve to prevent or to remedy it; and then the occasions 
 and eff'ects of^ it are the same with the occasions and 
 effects of deliberate anger. But they are essentially dis- 
 tinguished in-this, that the latter is never occasioned by 
 harm, distinct from injury; and its natural proper end is 
 to remedy or prevent only that harm, which implies, or 
 is supposed to imply, injury or moral wrong. Every 
 one sees that these observations do not relate to those, 
 who have habitually suppressed the course of their 
 passions and affiections, out of regard either to interest 
 or virtue; or who, from habits of vice and folly, have 
 changed their nature. But, I suppose, there can be no 
 doubt but this, now described, is the general course of 
 resentment, considered as a natural passion, neither in- 
 creased by indulgence, nor corrected by virtue, nor pre- 
 vailed over by other passions, or particular habits of life. \ 
 
98 UPON RESENTMENT. [Sbb. VIIL 
 
 As to the abuses of anger, which it is to be observed' 
 may be in all different degrees, the first which occurs is 
 what is commonly called passion; to which some me© 
 are liable, in the same wafas'others are to the epilepsy, 
 or any sudden particular disorder. This distemper ol 
 the mind seizes them upon the least occasion in the 
 world, and perpetually without any real reason at all: 
 and by means of it they are plainly, every day, every 
 waking hour of their lives, liable and in danger of run- 
 ning into the most extravagant outrages. Of a less 
 boisterous, but not of a less innocent kind, is peevishness; 
 which I mention with pity, with real pity to the unha^ppy 
 creatures, who, from their inferior station, or other cir- 
 cumstances and relations, are obliged to be in the way 
 of, and to serve for a supply to it. ^th these^ji^ught 
 ihat. J. can see, are one and the same principle: but as it 
 takes root in minds of diflferent makes, it appears dif- 
 ferently, and so is come to be distinguished by different 
 "Tmjnes'^ "That which in a more feeble temper is peevish- 
 ness, and languidly discharges itself upon every thing 
 which comes in its way; the .same principle in a temper 
 of greater force and stronger passions, becomes rage and 
 fury. '|[n one, the humour discharges itself at once; in 
 the other, it is continually discharging. This is the 
 account of passion and peevishness, as distinct from eacl) 
 other, and appearing in different persons. It is no ob- 
 jection against the truth of it, that they are both to be 
 seen^sometimes in one and the same person. 
 
 WitlL respect to deliberate resentment, the chief in- 
 stances of abuse are : when, from partiality to ourselves, 
 we imagine an injury done us, when there is none: wh¥n 
 this partiality represents it to us greater than it really is: 
 when we fall into that extravagant and monstrouslklnd 
 of resentment, towards one who has innocently been the 
 occasion of evil to us ; that is, resentment upon account 
 of pain or inconvenience, without injury; which is the 
 same absurdity, as settled anger at a thing that is 
 inanimate : when the indignation against injury and 
 injustice rLses too high, and is beyond proportion to tlie 
 particular ill action it is exercised upon : or, lastly, whei> 
 pahi or harm of any kind is inflicted merely in ronse 
 
Sua. Vlil.] UPON RESENTMENT. 99 
 
 «[uence of, and to gratify, that resentment, though na- 
 turally raised. 
 
 It would be endless to descend into and explain all the 
 peculiarities of perverseness and wayward humour which 
 might be traced up to this passion. But there is one 
 thing, which so generally belongs to and accompanies all 
 excess and abuse of it, as to require being mentioned: 
 a certain determination, and resolute bent of mind not 
 to be convinced or set right; though it be ever so plain, 
 that there is no reason for the displeasure, that it was 
 raised merely by error or misunderstanding. In this 
 there is doubtless a great mixture of pride ; but there is 
 somewhat more, which I cannot otherwise express, than 
 that resentment has taken possession of the temper and 
 of the mind, and will not quit its hold. It would be too 
 minute to inquire whether this be any thing more than 
 bare obstinacy: it is sufficient to observe, that it, in a 
 very particular manner and degree, belongs to the abuses 
 of this pcission. 
 
 But, notwithstanding all these abuses, "Is not just in- 
 dignation against cruelty and wrong one of the instru- 
 ments of death, which the Author of our nature hath pro- 
 vided .f* Are not cruelty, injustice, and wrong, the 
 natural objects of that indignation ? Surely then it may 
 one way or other be innocently employed against them." 
 True. Since therefore it is necessary for the very sub^ 
 sistence of the world, that injury, injustice, and cruelty,, 
 should be punished; and since compassion, which is sO' 
 natural to mankind, would render that execution of jus- 
 tice exceedingly difficult and uneasy; indignation against 
 vice and wickedness is, and may be allowed to be, a 
 balance to that weakness of pity, and also to any thing 
 else which would prevent the necessary methods of seve> 
 rity. Those who have never thought upon these sub- 
 jects, may perhaps not see the weight of this : but let us 
 suppose a person guilty of murder, or any other action 
 of cruelty, and that mankind had naturally no indigna- 
 tion against such wickedness and the authors of it; but 
 that every body was affected towards such a criminal in 
 the same way as towards an innocent man : compassion, 
 amongst other things, would render the execution of jus- 
 
 C2 
 
100 UPON RESENTMENT. [Ser. VIII. 
 
 tice exceedingly painful and difficult, and would often_ 
 quite prevent it. And notwithstanding that the principle 
 of benevolence is denied by some and is really in a very 
 low degree, that men are in great measure insensible to 
 the happiness of their fellow creatures ; yet they are not 
 insensible to-their misery, but are very strongly moved 
 with it: insomuch that there plainly is occa'sion for that 
 feeling, which is raised by guilt and demerit, as a balance 
 to that of compassion. Thus much may, I think, justly 
 be allowed to, resentment, in the strictest way of moral 
 consideration. 
 
 The good influence which this passion has in fact 
 upon the affairs of the world, is obvious to every one's 
 notice. Men are plainly restrained from injuring their 
 fellow creatures by fear of their resentment; and it is 
 very happy that they are so, when they would not be 
 restrained by a principle of virtue. And after an injury 
 is done, and there is a necessity that the offender should 
 be brought to justice ; the cool consideration of reason, 
 that the security and peace of society requires examples 
 of justice should be made, might indeed be sufficient to 
 procure laws to be enacted, and sentence passed: but is 
 it that cool reflection in the injured person, which, for 
 the most part, brings the offender to justice .P Or is it 
 not resentment and indignation against the injury and 
 the author of it.P I am afraid there is no doubt, which 
 is commonly the case. This however is to be considered 
 as a good effect, notwithstanding it were much to be 
 wished that men would act from a better principle, reason 
 and cool reflection. 
 
 The account now^iveiLpf the passion of resentment, 
 as distinct from all the abuses of it, may suggest to our 
 thoughts the following reflections. 
 
 First, That vice is indeed of ill desert, and must finally 
 be punished. Why should men dispute concerning the 
 reality of virtue, and whether it be founded in the nature 
 of things, which yet surely is not matter of question; 
 but why should this, I say, be disputed, when every man 
 carries about him this passion, which affords him de- 
 monstration, that the rules of justice and equity are to 
 be the guide of his actions ? For every man naturally 
 
8KR.1X.J UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. 101 
 
 feels an indignation upon seeing instances of villanv and 
 baseness, and therefore cannot commit the same without 
 being self-condemned. 
 
 Secondly, That we should learn tO be cautious, lest we 
 charge God foolishly, "by ascribing that to him, or the 
 nature he has given us, which is owing wholly to our 
 own abuse of it. Men may speak of the degeneracy and 
 corruption of the world, according to the experience they 
 have had of it ; but human nature, considered as the di- " 
 vine workmanship, should methinks be- treated as sacred: 
 for in tlie image of God made he man. That passion, 
 from whence men take occasion to run into the dreadful 
 vices of malice and revenge ; even that passion, as im- 
 planted in our nature by God, is not only innocent, but 
 a generous movement of mind. It is in itself,, and in its 
 original, no more than indignation against injury and 
 wickedness : that which is the only deformity in the crea- 
 tion, and the only reasonable object of abhorrence and 
 dislike. How manifold evidence have we of the divine 
 wisdom and goodness, when even pain in the natural 
 world, and the passion we have been now considering in 
 the moral, come out instances of it ! 
 
 SERMON IX. 
 
 UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. 
 
 Ye have heard that it hath been said, TTiou shalt love thy neighbour, 
 and hate thine enemy : but I say unto you, Love your enemies. Mess 
 them tliat curse you, do good to them that hate you, and p'ay for 
 them which despitefully use you and persecute you. — Matt, v 
 43, 44, 
 
 As God Almighty foresaw the irregularities and disorders, 
 both natural and moral, which would happen in this 
 state of things ; he hath graciously made some provision 
 against them, by giving us several passions and affec- 
 tions, which arise from, or whose objects are, those 
 disorders. Of this sort are fear, resentment, compassion, 
 and others ; of which there could be no occasion or use 
 
102 UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. [SbH. IX. 
 
 in a perfect state : but in the present we should he ex- 
 posed to greater inconveniences without them ; though 
 there are very considerable ones,, which they themselves 
 are the occasions of. They are encumbrances indeed, 
 but such as we are obliged to carry about with us, through 
 this various journey of life: some of them as a guard 
 against the violent assaults of others, and in our own de- 
 fence; some in behalf of others; and all of them to put 
 us upon, and help to carry us through a course of beha- 
 viour suitable to our condition, in default of that perfec- 
 tion of wisdom and virtue, which would be in all respects 
 our better security. 
 
 The passion of anger or resentment hath already been 
 largely treated of. It hath been shown, that mankind 
 naturally feel some emotion of mind against injury and 
 injustice, whoever are the sufferers by it; and even 
 though the injurious design be prevented from taking 
 effect. Let this be called anger, indignation, resentment, 
 or by whatever name any one shall choose; the thing 
 itself is understood, and is plainly natural. It has like- 
 wise been observed, that this natural indignation is gene- 
 rally moderate and low enough in mankind, in each 
 particular man, when the injury which excites it doth 
 not affect himself, or one whom he considers as himself. 
 Therefore the precepts to forgive, and to love our enemies, 
 do not relate to that general indignation against injury 
 land the authors of it, but to this feeling, or resentment 
 when raised by private or personal injury. But no man 
 could be thought in earnest, who should assert, that, 
 :hough indignation against injury, when others are the 
 sufferers, is innocent and just; yet the same indignation 
 igainst it, when we ourselves are the sufferers, becomes 
 •aulty and blameable. These precepts therefore cannot 
 e understood to forbid this in the latter case, more than 
 n the former. Nay they cannot be understood to forbid 
 his feeling in the latter case, though raised to a higher 
 degree than in the former: because, as was also observed 
 further, from the very constitution of our nature, we can- 
 not but have a greater sensibility to what concerns our- 
 selves. Therefore the precepts in the text, and others 
 joi the like import with them, must be understood to for-' 
 
-Sbb. IX.] UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES, 103 
 
 bid only the excess and abuse of this natural feelinar. in 
 cases of personal and private injury: the chief instances 
 of which excess and abuse have likewise been already j 
 remarked; and all of them, excepting that of retaliation, 
 do so plainly in the very terms express somewhat un-* 
 reasonable, disproportionate, and absurd, as to admit of j 
 no pretence or shadow of justification. 
 
 But since custom and false honour are on the side of 
 retaliation and revenge, when the resentment is natural 
 and just ; and reasons are sometimes offered in justifica- 
 tion of revenge in these cases; and since love of our 
 enemies is thought too hard a saying to be obeyed : I will 
 show the absolute unlawfulness of the former ; the' obliga- 
 tions we are under to the latter; and then proceed to some 
 reflections, which may have a more direct and immedime 
 tendency to beget in us a right temper of mind towards 
 those who have offended us. 
 
 In showing the unlawfulness of revenge, it is not myj 
 present design to examine what is alleged in favour of it,: 
 from the tyranny of custom and false honour, but only' 
 to consider the nature and reason of the thing itself;, 
 ■which ought to have prevented, and ought now to extir- 
 pate, every thing of that kind. 
 
 First, Let us begin with the supposition of that being 
 innocent, which is pleaded for, and which shall be shown 
 to be altogether vicious, the supposition that we were 
 allowed to render evil for evil, and see what would be 
 the consequence. Malice or resentment towards any 
 man hath plainly a tendency to beget the same passion 
 in him who is the object of it; and this again increases 
 it in the other. It is of the very nature of this vice to 
 propagate itself, npt only by way of example, which it 
 does in common with other vices, but in a peculiar way 
 of its own ;. for resentment itself, as well as what is done 
 in consequence of it, is the object of resentment: hence 
 it comes to pass, that the first offence, even when so 
 slight as presently to be dropped and forgotten, becomes 
 the occasion of entering into a long intercourse of ill 
 offices: neither is it at all uncommon to see persons, ia 
 this progress of strife and variance, change parts: and 
 liira, who was at first the injured person, become more 
 
104 UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. [Seb. IX, 
 
 injurious and blameable than the aggressor. Put the case 
 then, that the law of retahation was universally received, 
 and allowed, as an innocent rule of life, by all; and the 
 observance of it thought by many (and then it would 
 soon come to be thought by all) a point of honour: this 
 supposes every man in private cases to pass sentence in 
 his own cause; and likewise, that anger or resentment 
 jis to be the judge. Thus, from the numberless partia- 
 'lities which we all have for ourselves, every one would 
 often think himself injured when he was not: and in 
 most cases would represent an injury as much greater 
 than it really is; the imagined dignity of the person of- 
 fended would scarce ever fail to magnify the offence. 
 And, if bare retaliation, or returning just the mischief 
 received, always begets resentment in the person upon 
 whom we retaliate, what would that excess do.f^ Add to 
 this, that he likewise has his partialities — there is no 
 going on to represent this scene of rage and madness: 
 it is manifest there would be no bounds, nor any encl„ 
 If the beginning of strife is as when one letteth out water ^ 
 what would it come to when allowed this free and unre- 
 strained course ? As coals are to burning coals, or wood 
 to fire ; so would these contentious men be to kindle strife^ 
 And, since the indulgence of revenge hath manifestly 
 this tendency, and does actually produce these effects in 
 proportion as it is allowed; a passion of so dangerous a. 
 nature ought not to be indulged, were there no other 
 reason against it. 
 
 Secondly, It hath been shown that the passion of re- 
 sentment was placed in man, upon supposition of, and. 
 as a prevention or remedy to, irregularity and disorder. 
 NcLWJSfhetherJt be allowed or not, that the passion itself 
 and the gratification of it joined together are painfnb to 
 the_ malicious person; it must however be so witK~re-~^ 
 spectJto_the person towa.rds whom it is exercised, and?" 
 upon whom the revenge is taken. Now, if we consider 
 mankind, according to that fine allusion of St Paul, 
 as one body, and every one members one of another; it 
 must be allowed that resentment is, with respect to 
 society, a painful remedy. Thus then the very notion 
 or idea of this passion, as a remedy or prevention of evil,. 
 
Sn. IX.] UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. 105 
 
 and as in itself a painful means, plainly shows that it 
 ought never to be made use of, but only in order to pro- 
 duce some greater good. 
 
 It is to be observed, that this argument is not founded 
 upon an allusion or simile ; but that it is drawn from the 
 very nature of the passion itself, and the end for which 
 it was given us. We are obliged to make use of words 
 taken from sensible things, to explain what is the most 
 remote from them : and every one sees from whence the 
 words Prevention and Remedy are taken. But, if you 
 please, let these words be dropped : the thing itself, I 
 suppose, may be expressed without them. 
 
 That mankind is a community, that we all stand in a 
 relation to each other, that there is a public end and in- ' 
 terest of society which each particular is obliged to pro- 
 mote, is the sum of morals. Consider then the passion 
 of resentment, as given to this one body, as given to so- 
 ciety. Nothing can be more manifest, than that resent- 
 ment is to be considered as a secondary passion, placed 
 in us upon supposition, upon account of, and with regard 
 to, injury ; not, to be sure, to promote and further it, but 
 to render it, and the inconveniences and miseries arising, 
 from it, less and fewer than they would be without thisj 
 passion. It is as manifest, that the indulgence of it is, with, 
 regard to society, a painful means of obtaining these ends.*; 
 Considered in itself, it is very undesirable, and what so-, 
 ciety must very much wish to be without. It is in every' 
 instance absolutely an evil in itself, because it implies pro- 
 ducing misery : and consequently must never be indulged 
 or gratified for itself, by any one who considers mankind 
 as a community or family, and himself as a member of itj 
 
 Let us now take this in another view. Every natural 
 appetite, passion, andvaffection, may be gratified in par- 
 ticular instances, without being subservient to the parti- 
 cular chief end, for which these several principles were 
 respectively implanted in our nature. And, if neither 
 this end, nor any other moral obligation, be contradicted, 
 such gratification is innocent. Thus, I suppose, there 
 are cases in which each of these principles, this one of 
 resentment excepted, may innocently be gratified, with- 
 out being subservient to what is the main end of it : that 
 
106 UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. [See. XX. 
 
 is, though it does not conduce to, yet it may be gratifietf 
 without contradicting, that end, or any other obligation. 
 But the gratification of resentment, if it be not conducive 
 to the end for which it was given us, must necessarily 
 contradict, not only the general obligation to benevo- 
 lence, but likewise that particular end itself. The end, 
 for which it was given, is to prevent or remedy injury, 
 i. e. the misery occasioned by injury ; i. e. misery itself; 
 and the gratification of it consists in producing misery; 
 i. e. in contradicting the end for which it was implanted! 
 in our nature. 
 
 This whole reasoning is built upon the difference there 
 is between this passion and all others. No other prin- 
 ciple, or passion, hath for its end the misery of our fel- 
 low creatures. But malice and revenge meditates evil 
 itself; and to do mischief, to be the author of misery, 
 is the very thing which gratifies the passion : this is what 
 it directly tends towards, as its proper design. Other 
 vices eventually do mischief : this alone aims at it as an 
 end. 
 
 Nothing can with reason be urged in justification of 
 revenge, from the good effects which the indulgence of 
 it were before mentioned * to have upon the affairs of 
 the world ; because, though it be a remarkable instance 
 lof the wisdom of Providence to bring good out of evil, 
 yet vice is vice to him who is guilty of it. " But sup- 
 pose these good effects are foreseen :" that is, sup- 
 ipose reason in a particular case leads a man the same 
 jway as passion ? Why then, to be sure, he should follow 
 jhis reason, in this as well as in all other cases. So that, 
 turn the matter which way ever you will, no more can be 
 allowed to this passion, than what hath been already.t 
 
 As to that love of our enemies, which is commanded ; 
 this supposes the general obligation to benevolence or 
 good- will towards mankind: and this being supposed, 
 that precept is no more than to forgive injuries ; that is, 
 to keep clear of those abuses before mentioned : because 
 that we have the habitual temper of benevolence is taken 
 for granted. 
 
 ReseiitmenLis not inconsistent with good-will; for we 
 
 * Serm. Vlll. p. 100. f Ibid. p. 99. 
 
m 
 
 5br. IX.] UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. IO7 
 
 •often see both together in very high degrees ; not only 
 in parents towards their children, but in cases of 
 friendship and dependence, where there is no natural 
 relation. These contrary passions, though they may 
 lessen, do "riot~necessarily destroy each other. We 
 may therefore love our enemy, and yet have resentment 
 against him for his injurious behaviour towards us. But 
 when this resentment entirely destroys our natural bene- 
 volence towards him, it is excessive, and becomes 
 malice or revenge. The command to prevent its having 
 this effect, i. e. to forgive injuries, is the same as to love 
 ■our enemies ; because that love is always supposed, un- 
 less destroyed by resentment. 
 
 " But though mankind is the natural object of bene- 
 volence, yet may it not be lessened upon vice, i. e. in- 
 jury .P" Allowed: but if every degree of vice or injury 
 must destroy that benevolence, then no man is the object 
 of our love ; for no man is without faults. \ 
 
 "But if lower instances of injury may lessen our 
 benevolence, why may not higher, or the highest, destroy I 
 it ?" - The answer is obvious. It is not man's being a 
 social creature, much less his being a moral agent, from! 
 whence alone our obligations to good-will towards himl 
 arise. There is an obligation to it prior to either of these,; 
 arising from his being a sensible creature ; that is, cap-l 
 able of happiness or misery. Now this obligation can- 
 not be superseded by his moral character. What justi- 
 fies public executions is, not that the guilt, or demerit of 
 the criminal dispenses with the obligation of good-will, ' 
 neither would this justify any severity; but, that his life 
 is inconsistent with the quiet and happiness of the world: 
 that is, a general and more enlarged obligation neces- 
 sarily destroys a particular and more confined one of the 
 same kind inconsistent with it. Guilt or injury then 
 does not dispense with or supersede the duty of love and 
 good-will. 
 
 Neither does that peculiar regard to ourselves, which 
 was before allowed to be natural* to mankind, dispense 
 with it: because that can no way innocently heighten 
 our resentment against those who have been injurious. 
 
 • Serm. VHI. P- 86- 
 
108 UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. [Sm. IX, 
 
 to ourselves Ift particular, any otherwise than as it 
 heightens our sense of the injury or guilt; and guilt, 
 though in the highest degree, does not, as hath been 
 shown, dispense with or supersede the duty of love and 
 good-will. 
 
 1 If all this be true, what can a man say, who will dis- 
 )ute the reasonableness, or the possibility, of obeying 
 he divine precept we are now considering ? Let him 
 peak out, and it must be thus he will speak. " Man- 
 ind, i. e. a creature defective and faulty, is the proper 
 bject of good-will, whatever his faults are, when they 
 espect others ; but not when they respect me myself" 
 'That men should be affected in this manner, and act ac- 
 cordingly, is to be accounted for like other vices ; but 
 to assert that it ought, and must be thus, is self-partiality 
 possessed of the very understanding. 
 
 Thus love to our enemies, and those who have been 
 injurious to us, is so far from being a rant, as it has been 
 torofanely called, that it is in truth the law of our nature, 
 'and what every one must see and own, who is not quite 
 blinded ,with self-love. 
 
 From hence it is easy to see, what is the degree in 
 which we are commanded to love our enemies, or those 
 who have been injurious to us. Jt were well if it could 
 as easily be reduced to practice. It cannot be imagined, 
 that we are required to love them with any peculiar kind 
 of affection. But suppose the person injured to have a 
 due natural sense of the injury, and no more; he ought 
 to be affected towards the injurious person in the same 
 way any good men, uninterested in the case, would be ; 
 if they had the same just sense, which we have supposed 
 the injured person to have, of the fault: after which there 
 will yet remain real good-will towards the offender. 
 
 Now what is there in all this, which should be 
 thought impracticable? I am sure there is nothing in 
 it unreasonable. It is indeed no more than that we 
 should not indulge a passion, which, if generally indulged, 
 (would propagate itself so as almost to lay waste the 
 jworld : that we should suppress that partial, that false 
 I self-love, which is the weakness of our nature ;. that un- 
 leasiness and misery should not be produced, without any 
 
Seb. IX.] UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. 109 
 
 good purpose to be served by it: and that we should not / 
 be affected towards persons differently from what their 
 nature and character require. I 
 
 But since to be convinced that any temper of mind, 
 and course of behaviour, is our duty, and the contrary 
 vicious, hath but a distant influence upon our temper 
 ana actions; let me add some few reflections, which may 
 have a more direct tendency to subdue those vices in the 
 heart, to beget in us this right temper, and lead us to a 
 right behaviour towards those who have offended us: 
 which reflections however shall be such as will further 
 show the obligations we are under to it. 
 
 No one, I suppose, would choose to have an indignity 
 put upon him, or to be injuriously treated. If then there 
 be any probability of a misunderstanding in the case, 
 either from our imagining we are injured when we are 
 not, or representing the injury to ourselves as greater 
 than it really is ; one would hope an intimation of this 
 sort might be kindly received, and that people would be 
 glad to find the injury not so great as they imagined. 
 Therefore, without knowing particulars, I take upon me 
 to assure all persons who think they have received in- 
 dignities or injurious treatment, that they may depend 
 upon it, as in a manner certain, that the offence is not 
 so great as they themselves imagine. We are in such a 
 peculiar situation, with respect to injuries done to our- 
 selves, that we can scarce any more see them as they 
 really are, than our eye can see itself If we could place 
 ourselves at a due distance, i. e. be really unprej.udiced, 
 we should frequently discern that to be in reality inad- 
 vertence and mistake in our enemy, which we now fancy 
 we see to be malice or scorn. From this proper point of 
 view, we should likewise in all probability see something 
 of these latter in ourselves, and most certainly a great 
 deal of the former. Thus the indignity or injury would 
 almost infinitely lessen, and perhaps at last come out to 
 be nothing at all. Self-love is a medium of a peculiar| 
 kind; in these cases it magnifies every thing which is 
 amiss in others, at the same time that it lessens every; 
 thing amiss in ourselves. j 
 
 Anger also or hatred may be considered as anotjieri 
 
110 UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIKS. [Sw. IX. 
 
 false mediuna of viewing things, which always repiesenta 
 characters and actions much worse than they really are. 
 Ill-will not only never speaks, but never thinks well, of 
 the person towards whom it is exercised. Thus in cases 
 of offence and enmity, the whole character and behaviour 
 is considered with an eye to that particular part which 
 has offended us, and the whole man appears monstfbus, 
 without any thing right or human in him : whereas the 
 resentment should surely at least be confined to that 
 particular part of the behaviour which gave offence: 
 since the other parts of a man's life and character stand 
 just the same as they did before. 
 
 /^ In general, there are very few instances of enmity 
 
 I carried to any length, but inadvertency, misunderstand- 
 ing, some real mistake of the case, on one side however, 
 
 1 if not on both, has a great share in it. 
 
 If these things were attended to, these ill-humosurs. 
 could not be carried to any length amongst good men, 
 and they would be exceedingly abated amongst all. 
 And one would hope they might be attended to: for all 
 that these cautions come to is really no more than desir- 
 ing, that things may be considered and judged of as they 
 are in themselves, that we should have an eye to, and 
 beware of, what would otherwise lead us into mistakes. 
 So that to make allowances for inadvertence, misunder- 
 standing, for the partialities of self-love, and the false 
 light which anger sets things in; I say, to make allow- 
 ances for these, is not to be spoken of as an instance of 
 humbleness of mind, or meekness and moderation of 
 temper; but as what common sense should suggest, to 
 avoid judging wrong of a matter before us, though virtue 
 and morals were out of the case. And therefore it as 
 much belongs to ill men, who will indulge the vice I 
 have been arguing against, as to good men, who en- 
 
 /deavour to subdue it in themselves. In a word, all these 
 caution*, concerning anger and self-love, are no more 
 than desiring a man, who was looking through a glass^ 
 which either magnified or lessened, to take notice, that 
 the ob^ec*s are not in themselves what they appesffl" 
 through that medium. 
 
 To aU th«se tilings oae might- add, that^ resentnient 
 
Sra. IX.] UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. Ill 
 
 being out nf the case, there is not, properly speaking, 
 an^_guch thing as direct ill-will in one man towards 
 another: therefore the first indignity or injury, if it be 
 not owing to inadvertence or misunderstanding, may 
 Kowever be_^resolved into other particular passions or 
 self-love : principles quite distinct from ill-will, and 
 which we ought all to be disposed to excuse in Bthers, 
 from experiencing so much of them in ourselves. A 
 great man of antiquity is reported to have said, that, as 
 he never was indulgent to any one fault in himself, he 
 could not excuse those of others. This sentence could 
 scarce with decency come out of the mouth of any human 
 creature. But if we invert the former part, and put it 
 thus: that he was indulgent to many faults in himself, 
 as it is to be feared the best of us are, and yet was im- 
 placable; how monstrous would such an assertion appear! 
 And this is the cas.e in respect to every human creature, 
 in proportion as he is without the forgiving spirit I have 
 been recommending. 
 
 Further, thou ghJniJLir.yT-iiiitis.tic(;-. oppression, the base- 
 ness of ingratitude, are the natural objects of indignation, 
 or iryou'please~bT'resehtment, as before explained; yet 
 they are TiEewise~ the objects of compassion, as they are 
 their own, punishment, and Without repentance will for 
 ^ever be so. No one ever did a designed injury to another, 
 but at the same time he did a much greater to, himself. 
 If therefore we would consider things justly, such a one 
 is, according to the na,tural course of our affections, an 
 object of compassion, as well as of displeasure: and to 
 be affected really in this manner, I say really, in op- 
 position to show and pretence, argues the true greatness 
 of mind. We have an example of forgiveness in this 
 way in its utmost perfection, and which indeed includes 
 in it all that is good, in that prayer of our blessed Saviour 
 on the cross: Father, forgive them; for they know not 
 what they do. 
 
 But lastly, The offences which we are all guilty of 
 against God, and the injuries which men do to each other, 
 are often mentioned together^ and, making allowances for 
 the infinite distance between the Majesty of Heaven, and 
 9 frail mortal, and likewise for this, that he cannot pos- 
 
1 12 UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. [Sra. IX. 
 
 isibly be affected or moved as we are; offences committed 
 by others against ourselves, and the manner in which we 
 'are apt to be affected with them, give a real occasion for 
 calling to mind our own sins against God. Now there is an 
 lapprehension and presentiment, natural to mankind, that 
 we ourselves shall one time or other be dfealt with as we 
 deal with others; and a peculiar acquiescence in, and 
 feeling of, the equity and justice of this equal distribution. 
 This natural notion of equity the son of Sirach has put 
 in the strongest way. He that revengeth shall find ven- 
 geance from the Lord, and he will surely keep his sins in 
 remembrance. Forgive thy neighbour tJie hurt he hath done 
 unto thee, so shall thy sins be forgiven ichen thou prayest. 
 One man beareth hatred against another; and doth he seek 
 pardon from the Lx)rd? He sheweth no mercy to a man 
 which is like himself; and doth he ask forgiveness of his 
 own sins?* Let any one read our Saviour's parable of 
 thb king who took account of his servants ;\ and the equity 
 and Tightness of the sentence which was passed upon 
 him who was unmerciful to his fellow servant, will be 
 felt. There is somewhat in human nature, which accords 
 to and falls in with that method of determination. Let 
 us then place before our eyes the time wlych is repre- 
 sented in the parable ; that of our own death, or the final ' 
 judgment. Suppose yourselves under the apprehensions 
 of approaching death; that you were just going to appear 
 naked and without disguise before the Judge of all the 
 earth, to give an account of your behaviour towards your 
 fellow creatures: could any thing raise more dreadful 
 apprehensions of that judgment, than the reflection that 
 you had been implacable, and without mercy towards 
 those who had offended you: without that forgiving 
 spirit towards others, which that it may now be exercised 
 towards yourselves, is your only hope.P And these 
 natural apprehensions are authorized by our Saviour's 
 application of the parable : So likewise shall my heavenly 
 Father do also unto you, if ye from your hearts forgive not 
 every one his brother their trespasses. On the other hand, 
 suppose a good man in the same circumstance, in the 
 last part and close of life; conscious of many frailties, 
 
 * Ecclus, xxviii. 1 — 4. f Matt, xviii. 
 
SEB.X.] UPON SELF-DECEIT. 113 
 
 as the best are, but conscious too that he had been 
 meek, forgiving, and merciful; that he had in simplicity 
 of heart been ready to pass over offences against him- 
 self: the having felt this good spirit will give him, not 
 only a full view of the amiableness of it, but the surest 
 hopt> that he shall meet with it in his Judge. This like- 
 wise is confirmed by his own declaration : If ye forgive 
 men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will likewise 
 forgive you. And that we might have a constant sense 
 of it upon our mind, the condition is expressed in our 
 daily prayer. A forgiving spirit is therefore absolutely 
 necessary, as ever we hope for pardon of our own sins, 
 as ever we hope for peace of mind in our dying mo- 
 ments, or for the divine mercy at that day when we 
 shall most stand in need of it. 
 
 SERMON X 
 UPON SELF-DECEIT. 
 
 And Nathan said to David, Thou art the man. — 2 Sam. xii. 7 
 
 These words are the application of Nathan's parable to 
 David, upon occasion of his adultery with Bathsheba, 
 and the murder of Uriah her husband. The parable, 
 which is related in the most beautiful simplicity, is this: 
 *Tliere were two men in one city ; the one rich and the 
 other poor. The rich man had exceeding many flocks and 
 lierd^s : but the poor man had nothing, save one little eioe- 
 lamb, which he had bought and nourished up : and it grew 
 up together with' him, and with his children; it did eat of 
 his own meat, and drank of his own cup, and lay in his 
 hosom, and was unto him as a daughter. And there came 
 a traveller unto the rich man, and he spared to take of his 
 own flock, and of his own lierd, to dress for the way-faring 
 man that was come unto him, but took the poor man's lamb, 
 and dressed it for the man that was come to him. And 
 David's anger was greatly kindled against tlie man, and he 
 
 * Ver. 1. 
 H 
 
114 UPON SELF-DECEIT. [lgm.X^ 
 
 Haid to Nathan, As the Lord liveth, the man that hath done 
 this thing shall surely die. And he shall restore the lamb 
 four-fold, became he did this thing, and because he had no 
 pity. David passes sentence, not only that there should 
 be a fourfold restitution made ; but he proceeds to the 
 rigour of justice, the man that hath done this thing shall 
 die: and this judgment is pronounced with the utmost 
 indignatidn against such an act of inhumanity ; As the 
 Lord liveth, he shall surely die ; and his anger was greatly 
 kindled against the man. And the prophet answered, 
 Thou art the man. He had been guilty of much greater 
 inhumanity, with the utmost deliberation, thought, and 
 contrivance. Near a year must have passed, between 
 the time of the commission of his crimes, and the time 
 of the prophet's coming to him ; and it does not appear 
 from the story, that he had in all this while the least re- 
 morse or contrition. 
 
 There is net any thing, relating to men and characters, 
 more surprising and unaccountable, than this partiality 
 to themselves, which is observable in many; as there is 
 nothing of more melancholy reflection, respecting mora- 
 lity, virtue, and religion. Hence it is that many men 
 I seem perfect strangers to their own characters. They 
 think, and reason, and judge quite differently upon any 
 I matter relating to themselves, from what they do in cases 
 of others where they are not interested. Hence it is one 
 hears people exposing follies, which they themselves are 
 eminent for ; and talking with great severity against par- 
 ticular vices, which, if all the world be not mistaken^ 
 they themselves are "notoriously guilty of. This self- 
 1 ignorance and self-partiality may be in all diflFerent de- 
 > grees. It is a lower degree of it which David himself 
 refers to in these words, Who can tell how oft he offendetht 
 O cleanse thou me from my secret faults. This is the 
 ground of that advice of Elihu to Job: Surely it is meet 
 to be said unto God, — That which I see ■sot, teach' thou me ; 
 if I have done iniquity, I will do no more. And RolomOn 
 saw this thitig in a very strong light, when he said, He 
 tfiat tntsteth his own heart is a fool. This likewise was 
 the reason why that precept, Know thyself was so ffe- 
 quently inculcated by the philosophers of old. For if it 
 
Sbb.x.] upon self-deceit. 113 
 
 were not for that partial and fond regard to ourselves, it 
 would certainly be no great difficulty to know our own 
 character, what passes within the bent and bias of our 
 mind ; much less would there be any difficulty in judging 
 rightly of our own actions. But from this partiality it 
 frequently comes to pass,' that the observation of many 
 men's being themselves last of all acquainted with what 
 falls out in their own families, may be applied to a nearer 
 home, to what passes within their own breasts. 
 
 Jlhereis plainly, in the generality of mankind, an ab- 
 sence of doubt or distrust, in a very great measure, as Jo 
 their moral character and behaviour ; and likewise a dis- 
 position to take for granted, that all is right and well 
 with them in these respects. The former is owing to 
 their not reflecting, not exercising their judgment upon 
 themselves; the latter, to self-love. I am not speaking 
 of that extravagance, which is sometimes to be met with; 
 instances of persons declaring in words at length, that 
 they never were in the wrong, nor had ever any diffi- 
 dence of the justness of their conduct, in their whole 
 lives. No, these people are too far gone to have any 
 thing said to them. The thing before us is indeed of 
 this kind, but in a lower degree, and confined to the 
 moral character; somewhat of which we almost all of us 
 have, without reflecting upon it. Now consider, how 
 long and how grossly, a person of the best understanding 
 might be imposed upon by one of whom he had not any 
 suspicion, and in whom he placed an entire confidence ; 
 especially if there were friendship and real kindness in 
 the case: surely this holds even stronger with respect 
 to that self we are all so fond of. . Hen ce arises in men 
 a disregard of reproof and JnstructiQn^rules_of^ conduct 
 ^dThioral discipline, which occasionally come in theij 
 wayT a disregard, I say, of these,; not in every, respect, 
 but in ^this single one, namely, as what may be of service 
 to them in particular towards mending their own hearts 
 and tempers, and making them better men... It never in 
 earnest comes into their thoughts, whether such admo- 
 nitions may not relate, and be of service to themselves, 
 and this quite distinct from a positive persuasion to the 
 contrary, a persuasion from reflection that they are in- 
 
 H « 
 
116 UPON SELF-DECEIT. [See. X. 
 
 nocent and blameless in those respects. Thus we may 
 invert the observation which is somewhere made upon 
 Brutus, that he never read, but in order to make himselt 
 a better man. It scarce comes into the thoughts of the 
 generality of mankind, that this use is to be made of 
 moral reflections which they meet with ; that this use, I 
 say, is to be made of them by themselves, for every body 
 ^observes and wonders that it is not done by others. 
 
 Further, there are instances of persons having so fixed 
 and steady an eye upon their own interest, whatever 
 they place it in, and the interest of those whom they 
 consider as themselves, as in a manner to regard nothing 
 else ; their views are almost confined to this alone. Now 
 we cannot be acquainted with, or in any propriety of 
 speech be said to know any thing, but what we attend 
 to. If therefore they attend only to one side, they really 
 will not, cannot see or know what is to be alleged on the 
 other. Though a man hath the best eyes in the world, 
 te cannot see any way but that which he turns them. 
 Thus these persons, without passing over the least, the 
 most minute thing, which can possibly be urged in fa- 
 vour of themselves, shall overlook entirely the plainest 
 and most obvious things on the other side. And whilst 
 they are under the power of this temper, thought and 
 consideration upon the matter before them has scarce 
 any tendency to set them right: because they are en- 
 gaged; and their deliberation concerning an action to be 
 done, or reflection upon it afterwards, is not to see whe- 
 ther it be right, but to find out reasons to justify or pal- 
 liate it; palliate it, not to others, but to themselves. 
 
 In some there is to be observed a general ignorance 
 of themselves, and wrong way of thinking and judging 
 in- every thing relating to themselves ; their fortune, re- 
 putation, every thing in which self can come in: and this 
 perhaps attended with the rightest judgment in all other 
 matters. In others this partiality is not so general, has 
 not taken hold of the whole man, but is confined to some 
 particular favourite passion, interest, or pursuit; suppose 
 ambition, covetousness, or any other. And these per- 
 sons may probably judge and determine what is perfectly 
 just and proper, even in things in which they themselves 
 
Ser. X.] UPON SELF-DECEIT. 117 
 
 are concerned, if these things have no relation to their 
 particular favourite passion or pursuit. Hence arises 
 that amazing incongruity, and seeming inconsistency 
 of character, from whence slight observers take it 
 for granted, that the whole is hypocritical and false; 
 not being able otherwise to reconcile the several parts: 
 whereas in truth there is real honesty, so far as it goes. 
 There is such a thing as men's being honest to such a 
 degree, and in such respects, but no further. And this, 
 as it is true, so it is absolutely necessary to be taken 
 notice of, and allowed them; such general and undis- 
 tinguishing censure of their whole character, as designing 
 and false, being one main thing which confirms them in 
 their self-deceit. They know that the whole censure is 
 not true; and so take for granted that no part of it is. 
 
 But to go on with the explanation of the thing itself: 
 Vice^in _general_cojisists in having an unreasonable and 
 too great-jegardjlQ- ourselves, in comparison of others. 
 Robbery and murder is never from the love of injustice 
 or cruelty, but to gratify some other passion, to gain 
 some supposed advantage: and it is false selfishness 
 alone, whether cool or passionate, which makes a man 
 resolutely pursue that end, be it ever so much to the 
 injury of another. But whereas, in common and ordi- 
 nary wickedness, this unreasonableness, this partiality 
 and selfishness, relates only, or chiefly, to the temper 
 and passions, in the characters we are now considering, 
 it reaches to the understanding, and influences the very 
 judgment.* And, besides that general want of distrust 
 and diflfidence concerning our own character, there are, 
 
 * That peculiar regard for ourselves which frequently produces this partiality of 
 judgment in our own favour, may have a quite contrary effect, and occasion the 
 utmost difiBdence and distrust of ourselves ; were it only, as it may set us upon a more 
 frequent and strict survey and review of our own character and beliaviour. Tliis 
 Eearch or recollection itself implies somewhat of diffidence ; and the discoveries we 
 make, what is brought to our view, may possibly increase it. Good-will lo another 
 may eitlier blind our judgment, so as to make us overlook his faults ; or it may put 
 us upon exercising that judgment with greater strictness, to see whether he is so 
 faultless and perfect as we wish him. If that peculiar regard to ourselves leads us 
 to examine our own character with this greater severity, in order really to improve 
 and grow better, it is the most commendable turn of mind possible, and can scarce 
 be to excess. But if, as every thing hath its counterfeit, we are so much employed 
 (iliout ourselves in order to disguise what is amiss, and to make a better appearance; 
 or if our attention to ourselves has cliiefly this effict; it is liable to run up into the 
 uri atest weakness aiul excess, and is like all oilier t xcesses its own disappointment t 
 io- sciirce any show themseives to advantage, who are over solicitous of doing so. 
 
118 UPON SELF-DECEIT. fSK». X. 
 
 you see, two thiilgs, which may thus prejudice and darkea 
 the understanding itself: that over-fondness for ourselves, 
 which we are all so liable to ; and also being under the 
 power of any particular passion or appetite, or engaged 
 in any particular pursuit. And these, especially the last 
 of the two, may be in ^o great a degree, as to influence 
 our judgment, even of other persons and their behaviour. 
 Thus a man, whose temper is formed to ambition or 
 covetousness, shall even approve of them sometimes in 
 others. 
 
 This seems to be in a good measure the account of 
 self-partiality and self-deceit, when traced up to its~ 
 original. Whether it be, or be not thought satisfactory,^ 
 that there is such a thing is manifest; and_thatit is the^ 
 occasion of great part of the unreasonable behaviour of 
 men towards each other: that by means of it they palliate 
 their vices and follies to themselves: and that it prevents 
 their applying to themselves those reproofs and instruc-^ 
 tions, which they meet with either in scripture or in moral 
 and religious discourses, though exactly suitable to the 
 state of their own mind, and the course of their beha- 
 viour. There is one thing further to be added here, that 
 the temper we distinguish by hardness of heart with 
 respect to others, joined with this self-partiality, will 
 carry a man almost any lengths of wickedness, in the way 
 of oppression, hard usage of others, and even to plain 
 injustice; without his having, from what appear.<5, any 
 real sense at all of it. This indeed was not the general 
 character of David: for he plainly gave scope to the 
 affections of compassion and good-will, as well as to his 
 passions of another kind. 
 
 But as some occasions and circumstances lie more 
 open to this self-deceit, and give it greater scope and 
 opportunities than others, these require to be particularly 
 mentioned. 
 
 It is to be observed then, that as there are express 
 determinate acts of wickedness, such as murder, adultery, 
 theft: so, on the other hand, there are numberless cases 
 in which the vice arid wickedness cannot be exactly 
 defined; but consists in a certain general temper and 
 course of action, or ir> the neglect of some duty, suppose 
 
Sbr. X.] UPON SELF-DECEIT. 119 
 
 charity or any other, whose bounds and degrees are not 
 fixed. This is the very province of self-deceit and self- 
 partiahty: here it governs without check or control. 
 *' For what commandment is there broken? Is there a 
 transgression where there is no law P a vice which can- 
 not be defined?" 
 
 Whoever will consider the whole commerce of hum^ 
 life, will see that a great part, perhaps the greatest part>i 
 of iTie intercourse amongst mankind, cannot be reduced 
 to fixed determinate rules. Yet in these cases there is 
 a right and a wrong: a merciful, a liberal, a kind and 
 compassionate behaviour, which surely is our duty; and 
 an unmerciful contracted spirit, a hard and oppressive 
 course of behaviour, which is most certainly immoral 
 and vicious. But who can define precisely, wherein that 
 contracted spirit and hard usage of others consist, as 
 murder and theft may be defined? There is not a word 
 in our language, which expresses more detestable wicked- 
 ness than oppression; yet the nature of this vice cannot 
 be so exactly stated, nor the bounds of it so determinately 
 marked, as that we shall be able to say in all instances, 
 where rigid right and justice ends, and oppression begins. 
 In these cases there is great latitude left, for every one 
 to determine for, and consequently to deceive himself. 
 It is chiefly in these cases that self-deceit comes in; as 
 every one must see that there is much larger scope for 
 it here, than in express, single, determinate acts of 
 wickedness. However it comes in with respect to the" 
 circumstances attending the most gross and determinate 
 acts of wickedness. Of this, the story of David, now 
 before us, affords the most astonishing instance. It is 
 really prodigious, to see a man, before so remarkable for 
 virtue and piety, going on deliberately from adultery to 
 murder, with the same cool contrivance, and, from what 
 appears, with as little disturbance, as a man would en- 
 deavour to prevent the ill consequences of a mistake he 
 had made in any common matter. That total insensi- 
 bility of mind with respect to those horrid crimes, after 
 the commission of them, manifestly shows that he did 
 some way or other delude himself: and this could not be 
 with respect to thp crimen thcimselves, they were so 
 
120 UPON SELF-DECEIT. [Seb. X- 
 
 manifestly of the grossest kind. What the particular 
 circumstances were, with which he extenuated them, and 
 quieted and deceived himself, is not related- 
 Having thus explained the nature of internal hypocrisy 
 and self-deceit, and remarked the occasions upon which 
 it exerts itself; there are several things further to be ob- 
 served concerning it: that all of the sources, to which it 
 was traced up, are sometimes observable together in one- 
 and the same person: but that one of them is more re- 
 markable, and to a higher degree, in some, and others of 
 them are so in others: that in general it is a complicated- 
 thing; and may be in all different degrees and kinds: 
 that the temper itself is essentially in its own nature 
 vicious and immoral. It is unfairness: it is dishonesty; 
 it is fal seness of heart: and is therefore so far from ex- 
 tenuating guilt, that it is itself the greatest of all^uilt in 
 proportion to the degree it prevails; for it is a corruption 
 of j;he whole moral character in its principle. Our under- 
 standing, and sense of good and evil, is the light and guide 
 of life : If therefore this light that is in thee be darkness, 
 how great is that darkness .'* For this reason our Saviour 
 puts an evil eye as the direct opposite to a single eye; 
 tlie absence of that simplicity, which these last words 
 imply, being itself evil and vicious. And whilst men are 
 under the power of this temper, in proportion still to the 
 degree they are so, they are fortified on every side- 
 against conviction: and when they hear the vice and' 
 folly of what is in truth their own course of life, exposed 
 in the justest and strongest manner, they will often as- 
 sent to it, and even carry the matter further ; persuading 
 themselves, one does not know how, but some way or 
 other persuading themselves, that they are out of these, 
 and that it hath no relation to them. Yet, notwithstand- 
 ing this, there frequently appears a suspicion, that all is 
 not right, or as it should be ; and perhaps there is always 
 at bottom somewhat of this sort. There are doubtless 
 many instances of the ambitious, the revengeful, the 
 covetous, and those whom with too great indulgence we 
 only call the men of pleasure, iffho will not allow them" 
 selves to think how guilty they are, who explain and- 
 
 • Matt. vi. 83. 
 
Snii.X.] UPON SELF-DECEIT. 121 
 
 argue away their guilt to themselves: and though they 
 do really impose upon themselves in some measure, yet 
 there are none of them but have, if not a proper know- 
 ledge, yet at least an implicit suspicion, where the weak 
 ness lies, and what part of their behaviour they have 
 reason to wish unknown or forgotten for ever. Truth, 
 andj;eal_gqod sense, and thorough integrity, carry along 
 with them a peculiar consciousness of their own genuine- 
 ness: there is a feeling belonging to them, which -does - 
 not accompany their counterfeits, error, folly, .half- 
 honesty, partial and sIight_xgIMlds_la-viFt-u& gtnd -right, i 
 sp„lar_onIy as th^y are, consistent with that course of 
 gratification which men happen to be set upon. And, 
 if this be the case, it is much the same as if we should 
 suppose a man to have had a general view of some 
 scene, enough to satisfy him that it was very disagree- 
 able, and then to shut his eyes, that he might not have a 
 particular or distinct view of its several deformities. It 
 is as easy to close the eyes of the mind, as those qf the 
 body: and the former is more frequently done with wil- 
 fulness, and yet not attended to, than the latter; the 
 actions of the mind being more quick and transient, than 
 those of the senses. This may be further illustrated by 
 another thing observable in ordinary life. It is not un- 
 common for persons, who run out their fortunes, entirely 
 to neglect looking into the state of their affairs, and this 
 from a general knowledge, that the condition of them is 
 bad. These extravagant people are perpetually ruined 
 before they themselves expected it: and they tell you 
 for an excuse, and tell you truly, that they did not think 
 they were so much in debt, or that their expenses so far 
 exceeded their income. And yet no one will take this 
 for an excuse, who is sensible that their ignorance of 
 their particular circumstances was owing to their general 
 knowledge of them; that is, their general knowledge, 
 that matters • were not well with them, prevented their 
 looking into particulars. There is somewhat of the like 
 kind with this in respect to morals, virtue, and religion. 
 Men find that the survey of themselves, their own heart 
 and temper, their own life and behaviour, doth not afford 
 them satisfaction: things are not as they should be: 
 
122 UPON SELF-DECEIT. (<S2», X. 
 
 therefore they turn away, will not go over particulars, or 
 look deeper, lest they should find more amiss. For who 
 would choose to be put out of humour with himself.^ 
 No one, surely, if it were not in order to mend, and to 
 be more thoroughly and better pleased with himTself for 
 the future. 
 
 If this sincere self-enjoyment and home-satisfaction be 
 thought desirable, and worth some pains and diligence; 
 the following reflections will, I suppose, deserve your 
 attention; as what may be of service and assistance to 
 all who are in any measure honestly disposed, for avoid- 
 ing that fatal self-deceit, and towards getting acquainted 
 with themselves. 
 
 The first is, that those who have never had any 
 suspicion of, who have never made allowances for, this 
 weakness in themselves, who have never (if I may_be 
 allowed such a manner of speaking) caught thenjselves 
 m it, may almost take for granted that they have Jjeen 
 very much misled by it. For consider: nothing is more 
 manifest, than that aficction and passion of all kinds 
 influence the judgment. Now as we have naturally a 
 greater regard to ourselves than to others, as the private 
 affection is more prevalent than the public; the former 
 will have proportionally a greater influence upon the 
 judgment, upon our way of considering things. People 
 are not backward in owning this partiality of judgment, 
 in cases of friendship and natural relation. The reason 
 is obvious, why it is not so readily acknowledged, when 
 the interest which misleads us is more confined, confined 
 to ourselves : but we all take notice of it in each other 
 in these cases. There is not any observation more 
 common, than that there is no judging of a ntatter from 
 hearing only one side. This is not founded upon sup- 
 position, at least it is not always, of a formed design in 
 the relater to deceive : for it holds in cases, where he 
 expects that the whole will be told over again by the 
 other side. But the supposition, which this observation 
 is founded upon, is the very thing now before us ; namely, 
 that men are exceedingly prone to deceive themselves, and 
 judge too favourably in e\'ery respect, where themselves 
 and their own interest are concerned. Thus, though we 
 
«n[.X.] UPON SELF-DECEIT. 123 
 
 have not the least reason to suspect that such an in- 
 terested person hath any intention to deceive us, yet we 
 of course make great allowances for his having deceived 
 himself. If this be general, almost universal, it is prodi- 
 gious that every man can think himself an exception, 
 and that he is free from this self-partiality. The direct 
 contrary is the truth. Every man may take for granted 
 that h^ has a great deal of it, till, from the strictest ob- 
 servation upon himself, he finds particular reason to 
 think otherwise. 
 
 Secondly, There is one easy and almost sureway to 
 avoid being mistedrtiy^ts'self-partiality, and to get ac- 
 quainted with our real character : to have regard to the 
 suspicious part .ol it, and .kaap.. a steady eye over our- 
 _selves iiL that respect. . Suppose then a man fully satfs- 
 fied with himself, and his own behaviour; such a one, if 
 you please, as the Pharisee in the Gospel, or a better 
 man. — Well; but allowing this good opinion you have 
 of yourself to be true, yet every one is liable to be mis- 
 represented. Suppose then an enemy were to set about 
 defaming you, what part of your character would he sin- 
 gle out ? What particular scandal, think you, would he 
 be most likely to fix upon you ? And what would the 
 world be most ready to believe ? There is scarce a man 
 living but could, from the most transient superficial view 
 of himself, answer this question. What is that ill thing, 
 that faulty behaviour, which I am apprehensive an ene- 
 my, who was thoroughly acquainted with me, would be 
 most likely to lay to my charge, and which the world 
 would be most apt to beheve ? It is indeed possible 
 that a man may not be guilty in that respect. All that 
 I say is, let him in plainness and honesty fix upon that 
 part of his character for a particular survey and reflec- 
 tion ; and by this he will come to be acquainted, whether 
 he be guilty or innocent in that respect, and how far he 
 is one or the other. > 
 
 Thirdly, It would very much prevent our being mis-j 
 led by this self-partiality, to reduce that practical rule oft, 
 our Saviour, Whatsoever ye would that men should do tq] 
 you, even so do unto them, to our judgment and way of' 
 thinking. This rule, you see, consists of two parts 
 
121< LTOM SULF-JJJiUKlT. [Sbb. X. 
 
 One is, to substitute another for yourself, when you take 
 a survey of any part of your behaviour, or consider what 
 is proper and fit and reasonable for you to do upon anv 
 occasion: the other part is, that you substitute yourself 
 in the room of another; consider yourself as the persoii 
 affected by such a behaviour, or towards whom such an 
 action is done: and then you would not only see, but 
 likewise feel, the reasonableness or unreasonableness of 
 such an action or behaviour. But, alas! the rule itself 
 maybe dishonestly applied: there are persons who have 
 not impartiality enough with respect to themselves, nor 
 regard enough for others, to be able to make a just ap- 
 plication of it. This just application, if men would 
 honestly make it, is in effect all that I have been recom- 
 mending; it is the whole thing, the direct contrary to 
 that inward dishonesty as respecting our intercourse 
 with our fellow creatures. And even the bearing this 
 rule . in their thoughts may be of some service ; the at- 
 tempt thus to apply it, is an attempt towards being fair 
 and impartial, and may chance unawares to show them 
 to themselves, to show them the truth of the case they 
 are considering. 
 
 Upon the whole it is manifest, that there is such » 
 thing as this self-partiality and self-deceit: that in some 
 persons it is to a degree which would be thought incre- 
 dible, were not the instances before our eyes ; of which 
 the behaviour of David is perhaps the highest possible 
 one, in a single particular case ; for there is not the least 
 appearance, that it reached his general character: that 
 we are almost all of us influenced by it in some degree, 
 and in some respects : that therefore every one ought to 
 ! have an eye to and beware of it. And all that I have 
 i further to add upon this subject is, that either there is a 
 difference between right and wrong, or there is not: 
 i religion is true, or it is not. If it be not, there is no 
 I reason for any concern about it: but if it be true, it re- 
 quires real fairness of mind and honesty of heart. And, 
 [if people will be wicked, they had better of the two be 
 so from the common vicious passions without such re- 
 finements, than from this deep and calm source of delu- 
 sion; which undermines the whole principle of good; 
 
Ser. XI.] UPON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. 125 , 
 
 \ " _ j 
 
 darkens that light, that candle of the Lord within, which ', 
 is to direct our steps ; and corrupts conscience, which is \ 
 the guide of life. , 
 
 SERMON XI. 
 
 UPON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR, 
 
 PREACHED ON ADVENT SUNDAY. 
 
 dnd if there be any other commandment, if is brief y comprehended 
 in this saying, namely, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.-— 
 Rom. xiii. 9. 
 
 It is commonly observed, that there is a disposition in 
 men to complain of the viciousness and corruption of the 
 age in which they live, as greater than that of former 
 tones ; which is usually followed with this further obser- 
 vation, that mankind has been in that respect much the 
 same in all times. Now, not to determine whether this 
 last be not contradicted by the accounts of history; thus 
 much can scarce be doubted, that vice and folly takes 
 different turns, and some particular kinds of it are more 
 open and avowed in some ages than in others: and, I 
 suppose, it may be spoken of as very much the distinc- 
 tion of the present to profess a contracted spirit, and 
 greater regards to self-interest, than appears to have 
 been done formerly. Upon this account it seems worth 
 while to inquire, whether private interest is likely to be 
 promoted in proportion to the degree in which self-love 
 engrosses us, and prevails over all other principles ; or 
 whether the contracted affection may not possibly be so pre^ 
 valent as to disappoint itself, and even contradict' its own 
 end, private good. 
 
 And since, further, there is generally thought to be 
 some peculiar kind of contrariety between self-love and 
 the love of our neighbour, between the pursuit of public 
 and of private good; insomuch that when you are re- 
 commending one of these, you are supposed to be speak- 
 ing against the other; and from hence arises a secret 
 prejudice against, and frequently open scorn of all talk 
 of public spirit, and real good-will to our fellow crea- 
 
.126 UPON THE LOVE OF [Seb. XK 
 
 tures; it will be necessary to inquire what 'respect benevo- 
 lence kath to self-love, and the pursuit of private interest 
 to the pursuit of public: or whether there be any thing 
 of that peculiar inconsistence and contrariety between 
 them, over and above what there is between self-love 
 and other passions and particular affections, and their 
 respective pursuits. 
 
 These inquiries, it is hoped, 'may be favourably at- 
 tended to: for there shall be all possible concessions 
 made to the favourite passion, which hath so much al- 
 lowed to it, and whose cause is so universally pleaded: 
 it shall be treated with the utmost tenderness and con- 
 cern for its interests. 
 
 In order to this, as well as to determine the foremen- 
 tioned questions, it will be necessary to consider the na- 
 ture, the object, and end of that self-love, as distinguished 
 from other principles or affections in the mind, and their 
 respective objects. 
 
 Every man hath a general desire of his own happi- 
 ness ; and likewise a variety of particular affections, pas- 
 sions, and appetites to particular external objects. The 
 former proceeds from, or is self-love; and seems inse- 
 p arable from all sensible creatures, who can reflect upon 
 themselves and their own interest or happiness, so as to 
 have that interest an object to their minds: what is to be 
 said of the latter is, that they proceed from, or together 
 make up that particular nature, according to which man 
 is made. The object the former pursues is somewhat 
 internal, our own happiness, enjoyment, satisfaction j 
 whether we have, or have not, a distinct particular per- 
 ception what it is, or wherein it consists: the objects of 
 the latter are this or that particular external thing, which 
 the affections tend towards, and of which it hath always 
 a particular idea or perception. The principle we call 
 self-love never seeks any thing external for the sake of 
 the thing; but only as a means of happiness or good: 
 particular affections rest in the external things them- 
 selves. One belongs to man as a reasonable creature 
 reflecting upon his own interest or happiness. The 
 other, though quite distinct from reason, are as much a 
 part of human nature. 
 
Ser. XL] OUR NEIGHBOUU. 127 
 
 That all particular appetites and passions are toji^ards 
 external things themselves, distinct from the pleasure aris- 
 ing from t/iem, is manifested from hence; that there 
 could not be this pleasure, were it not for that prior 
 suitableness between the object and the passion: there 
 could be no enjoyment or delight from one thing more 
 than another, from eating food more than from swallow- 
 ing a stone, if there were not an affection or appetite to 
 one thing more than another. 
 
 Every particular affection, even the love of our neigh- 
 bour, is as really our own affection, as self-love ; and the 
 pleasure arising from its gratification is as much my own 
 pleasure, as the pleasure self-love would have, from 
 knowing I myself should be happy some time hence, 
 would be my own pleasure. And if, because every par- 
 ticular affection is a man's own, and the pleasure arising 
 from its gratification his own pleasure, or pleasure to 
 himself, such particular affection must be called^ ^If-iaye ; 
 according to this way of speaking, no creature whatever 
 can possibly act but merely from self-love ; and every 
 action and every affection whatever is to be resolved up 
 into this one principle. But then this is not the 
 language of mankind: or if it were, we should want 
 words to express the difference, between the principle 
 of an action, proceeding from cool consideration that it 
 will be to my own advantage ; and an action, suppose of 
 revenge, or of friendship, by which a man runs upon 
 certain ruin, to do evil or good to another. It is mani- 
 fest the principles of these actions are totally different, 
 and so want different words to be distinguished l)y : al) 
 that they agree in is, that they both proceed from, and 
 are done to gratify an inclination in a man's self. But 
 the principle or inclination in one case is self-love : in 
 the other, hatred or love of another. There is then a 
 distinction between the cool principle~of self-love, or 
 general desire of our own happiness, as one part of our 
 nature, and one principle of action ; and the particular 
 affections towards particular external objects, as another 
 part of our nature, and another principle of action. How 
 much soever therefore is to be allowed to self-love, yet 
 it cannot be allowed to be the whole of o\ir inward con- 
 
128 UPON THE LOVE OF [Seb. XT, 
 
 stitutipn ; because, you see, there are other part^ or prin- 
 ciples which come into it. 
 
 'further, private happiness or good is all which self- 
 love can make us desire, or be concerned about: in hav- 
 ing this consists its gratification ; it is an affection to our- 
 selves ; a regard to our own interest, happiness, and 
 private good : and in the proportion a man hath this, he 
 is interested, or a lover of himself. Let this be kept in 
 mind ; because there is commonly, as 1 shall presently 
 have occasion to observe, another sense put upon these 
 words. On the other hand, particular affections tend 
 towards particular external things: these are their ob- 
 jects : having these is their end : in this consists their 
 gratification: no matter whether it be, or be not, upon 
 the whole, our interest or happiness. An action done 
 from the former of these principles is called an interest- 
 ed action. An action proceeding from any of the latter 
 has its denomination of passionate, ambitious, friendly, 
 revengeful, or any other, from the particular appetite or 
 affection from which it proceeds. Thus self-love as one 
 part of human nature, and the several particular princi- 
 ples as the other part, are, themselves, their objects and 
 ends, stated and shown. 
 
 From hence it will be easy to see, how far, and in 
 what ways, each of these can contribute and be subser- 
 vient to the private good of the individual. JHappiness 
 does^ not co nsist in self-lov e. The desire of happiness 
 is no^noreThe thing itself^ than the desire of riches is 
 the possession or enjoyment of them. Pe ople j naa^yiiove 
 themselves with the most entir e and unbounded^xiflEection, 
 and yet be extremely miserable. Neither can self-love 
 any way help them out, but by setting them on work 
 to get rid of the causes of their misery, to gain or make 
 use of those objects which are by nature adapted to af- 
 ford satisfaction. Happiness or satisfaction consists 
 only in the enjoyment of those objects, which are by na- 
 ture suited to our several particular appetites, passions, 
 and affections. So that if self-love wholl y eng rnssp.ti ns, 
 and leaves no room for any other -principle, there can 
 be absolutely^ no such thing at all as happiness, or enjoy- 
 ment of any kind whatever; since happiness consists iu 
 
-Skb. XI.] OUR NEIGHBOUR. 129 
 
 the gratification of particular passions, which supposes 
 the having of them. Self-l ove then cloes_nol constitute 
 t/iis or t hat to be our interest or good ; butj^our interest 
 oivgood being constituted by nature and supposed, self- 
 love only puts us upon obtaining and securin g it . There- 
 fore, if it be possible, that self-love may prevail and exert 
 itself in a de£;ree or manner which is not subservient to 
 this end ; then it will not follow, that our interest will be 
 promoted in proportion to the degree in which that 
 principle engrosses us, and prevails over others. Nay 
 further, the private and contracted affection, when it is 
 not subservient to this end, private good, may, for any 
 thing that appears, have a direct contrary tendency and 
 effect. And if we will consider the matter, we shall see 
 that it often really has. Disengagement is absolutely ne- 
 cessary to enjoyment: and a person may have so steady 
 and fixed an eye upon his own interest, whatever he 
 places it in, as may hinder him from attending to many 
 gratifications within his reach, which others have their 
 minds yr<?e and open to. Over- fondness for a child is 
 not generally thought to be for its advantage : and, if 
 there be any guess to be made from appearances, surely 
 that character we call selfish is not the most promising 
 for happiness. Such a temper may plainly be, and exert 
 itself in a degree and manner which may give unneces- 
 sary and useless solicitude and anxiety, in a degree and 
 manner which may prevent obtaining the means and 
 materials of enjoyment, as well as the making use of 
 them. Immoderate self-love does ver)' ill consult its! 
 own interest: and how much soever a paradox it may I 
 appear, it is certainly true, that even from self-love we 1 
 should endeavour to get over all inordinate regard to, ] 
 and consideration of ourselves. Every one of our pas- I 
 sions and affections hath its natural stint and bound, 
 which may easily be exceeded ; whereas our enjoyments 
 can possibly be but in a determinate measure and de- 
 gree. Therefore such excess of the affection, since it 
 cannot procure any enjoyment, must in all cases be use- 
 less ; but is generally attended with inconveniences, and 
 often is downright pain and misery. This holds as much 
 with regard to self-love as to all otlier affections. The 
 
130 UPON THE LOVE OF [Sai. Xr. 
 
 natural degree of it, so far as it sets us on work to gain 
 and make use of the materials of satisfaction, may He to 
 our real advantage; but beyond or besides this, it is in 
 several respects an inconvenience and disadvantage. 
 Thus it appears, that private interest is so far from be- 
 ing likely to be promoted in proportion to the degree in 
 which self-love engrosses us, and prevails over ail other 
 principles; thai the contracted affection maybe so preva- 
 lent as to disappoint itself', and even contradict its ovm end; 
 private good. 
 
 "But who, except the most sordidly covetous, ever 
 thought there was any rivalship between the love of 
 greatness, honour, power, or between sensual appetites, 
 and self-love ? No, there is a perfect harmony between 
 them. It is by means of these particular appetites and 
 aflfections that self-love is gratified in enjoyment, happi- 
 ness, and satisfaction. The competitioiLand r[valship is 
 between self-love ajid the—love of oul neighbour : that 
 affectiDn~wiiicTi leads us out of ourselves, makes us re- 
 gardless of our own interest, and substitute that of an- 
 other in its stead." Whether then there be any pecuhar 
 competition and contrariety in this case, shall now be 
 considered. 
 
 Self-love and interestedness was stated to consist in oi 
 be an affection to ourselves, a regard to our own private 
 good: it is therefore distinct from bei^g^l^nce, which is 
 an affection to the^ood of our feUow-creatures. But 
 that benevolence is distinct from, that is, not the same 
 thing with self-love, is no reason for it being looked up- 
 on with any peculiar suspicion ; because every principle 
 whatever, by means of which self-love is gratified, is dis- 
 tinct from it : and all things which are distinct from each 
 other are equally so. A man has ari affection or aver- 
 sion to another : that one of these tends to, and is grati- 
 fied by doing good, that the other tends to, and is grati- 
 fied by doing harm, does not in the least alter the respect 
 which either one or the other of these inward feelings 
 has to self-love. We use the word property so as to 
 exclude any other persons having an interest in that 'ol 
 which we say a particular man has the property. And 
 we often use the word selfish so as to exclude in the same 
 
Sbb. 5i.j OUR NEIGHBOUR. 131 
 
 manner all regards to the good of others. But the cases , 
 are not parallel: for though that exclusion is really part '. 
 of the idea of propert)'; yet such positive exclusion, or 1 
 bringing this pecuhar disregard to the good of others into. > 
 the idea of self-love, is in reality adding to the idea, or 
 changing it from what it was before stated to consist in, 
 namely, in an affection to ourselves.* This being the 
 whole idea of self-love, it can no otherwise exclude good- ' 
 will or love of others, than merely by not including it, 
 no otherwise, than it excludes love of arts or of reputa- 
 tion, or of any thing else. Neither on the oJ,her hand,; 
 does benevolence, any more than love of arts or of repu- 
 talion7"exclude ^elf^love. Love of our neighbour then 
 has just the same respect to, is no more distant from 
 self-love, than hatred of our neighbour, or.than love or 
 hatred of any thing else. Thus the principles, from 
 which men rush upon certain ruin for the destruction of 
 an enemy, and for the preservation of a friend, have the 
 same respect to the private affection, and are equally 
 interested, or equally disinterested: and it is of no avail, 
 whether they are said to be one or the other. Therefore 
 to those who are shocked to hear virtue spoken of as disin- 
 terested, it may be allowed that it is indeed absurd to speak 
 thus of it; unless hatred, several particular instances of 
 vice, and all the common affections and aversions in man- 
 kind, are acknowledged to be disinterested too. Is there 
 any less inconsistence, between the lo.ve of inanimate 
 things, or of creatures merely sensitive, and self-love; 
 than between self-love and the love of our neighbour ? 
 Is desire of and delight in the happiness of another any 
 more a diminution of self-love, than desire of and delight 
 in the esteem of another? They are both equally desire 
 of and delight in somewhat external to ourselves: either 
 both or neither are so. The object of self-love is expressed 
 in the term self: and every appetite of sense, and every 
 particular affection of the heart, are equally interested or 
 disinterested, because the objects of them all are equally 
 self or somewhat else. Whatever ridicule therefore the 
 mention of a disinterested principle or action may be 
 supposed to lie open to, must, upon the matter bein^ 
 
 * p. 187. 
 
 lif 
 
132 ^ UPON THE LOVE OF [Sek. XI. 
 
 thus stated, relate to ambition, and e^ery appetite and 
 particular affection, as much as to benevolence. And 
 indeed all the ridicule, and all the grave perplexity, of 
 which this subject hath had its full share, is merely from 
 words^y The most inteUigible way of speaking of it seems 
 
 J 
 
 to~be this: that self-love and the actions done in con- 
 sequence of it (for these will presently appear to be the 
 same as to this question) are interested; that particular 
 affections towards external objects, and the actions done 
 in consequence of those affections, are not so. But every 
 one is at liberty to use words as he pleases. All that is 
 here insisted upon is, that ambition, revenge, benevo- 
 llence, all particular passions whatever, and the actions 
 ithey produce, are equally interested or disinterested. 
 
 Thus it appears that there is no peculiar contrariety 
 between self-love and benevolence; no greater competi- 
 tion between these, than between any other particular 
 affections and self-love. This relates to the affections 
 tFemselves. Let us now see whether there be any pe- 
 culiar contrariety between the respective courses of life 
 which these affections lead to; whether therg^be any 
 greater competition between the pursuit of private and 
 of public good, than between any other particular pur- 
 suits and that of private good. 
 
 There seems no other reason to suspect that there is 
 any such peculiar contrariety, but only that the courses 
 pf action which benevolence leads to, has a more direct 
 tendency to promote the good of others, than that course 
 of action which love of reputation suppose, or any other 
 particular affection leads to. But th at any affection , 
 teads ^to the h appiness of another, does not hinder its 
 tefiding to one s owiTTiappiness' too. Thafothere'enjoy 
 the benefit of the air and "the' light of the sun, does nof 
 hinder but that, these are as much one's own private 
 advantage now, as they would be if we had the propertj 
 of them exclusive of all others. So a pursuit which 
 tends to promote the good of another, yet may have as 
 great tendency to promote private interest, as a pursuit 
 which does not tend to the good of another at all, or 
 which is mischievous to him. All particular affections 
 whatever, resentment, benevolence, love of arts, equally 
 
Sek. XI.l OUR NEIGHBOUR. 133 
 
 lead to a course of action for their own gratification, i.e.^ 
 the gratification of ourselves; and the gratification of 
 each gives delight: so far then it is manifest they have 
 all the same respect to private interest. Novr take into ' 
 consideration furtjier, concerning these three pursuits, | 
 that the end of the first is the harm, of the second, the j 
 good of another, of the last, somewhat indifferent; and 
 is there any necessity, that these additional considerations '. 
 should alter the respect, which we before saw these three j 
 pursuits, had to private interest; or render any one of j 
 them less conducive to it, than any other? Thus one \ 
 man's affection is to honour as his end ; in order to ob- | 
 tain which he thinks no pains too great. Suppose ' 
 another, with such a singularity of mind, as to have the I 
 same affection to public good as his end, which he 
 endeavours with the same labour to obtain. In case of 
 success, surely the man of benevolence hath as great 
 enjoyment as the man of ambition; they both equally 
 having the end of their affections, in the same degree, 
 tended to: but in case of disappointment, the benevolent 
 man has clearly the advantage; since endeavouring to 
 do good considered as a virtuous pursuit, is gratified by 
 its own consciousness, i. e. is in a degree its own reward. 
 
 And as to these two, or benevolence and any other 
 particular passions whatever, considered in a further 
 view, as forming a general temper, which more or less 
 disposes us for enjoyment of all the common blessings 
 of life, distinct from their own gratification : is benevQ- 
 Ifince, less the ^ temper of tra nquillity and freedom tha^ 
 ambition oF c ovetou sness.P Does the benevoFent man 
 appeaFless easy withTumselfj from his love to his neigh- 
 bour.P Does he less relish his being? Is there an\ 
 peculiar gloom seated on his face.P Is his mind less 
 open to entertainment, to any particular gratification.!^ 
 Nothing is more manifest, than that being in good 
 humour, which is benevolence whilst it lasts, is itself 
 the temper of satisfaction and enjoyment. 
 
 Suppose then a man sitting down to consider how he 
 might become most easy to himself, and attain the 
 greatest pleasure he could; all that which is his real 
 natural happiness. This can only consist in the enjoy- 
 
134 UPON THE LOVE OP [Sbr. XI. 
 
 ment of those objects, which are by nature adapted to 
 our several faculties. These particular enjoyments make 
 up the sum total of our happiness : and they are supposed 
 to arise from riches, honours, and the gratification of 
 sensual appetites: be it so: yet none profess themselves 
 so completely happy in these enjoyments, but that there 
 is room left in the mind of others, if they were presented 
 to them: nay, these, as much as they engage us, are not 
 thought so high, but that human nature is capable even 
 of greater. Now there have been persons in all ages, 
 who have professed that they found satisfaction in the 
 exercise of charity, in the love of their neighbour, in 
 endeavouring to promote the happiness of all they had 
 to do with, and in the pursuit of what is just, and right, 
 and good, as the general bent of their mind, and end of 
 their life ; and that doing an action of baseness or cruelty, 
 would be as great violence to their self, as much break- 
 ing in upon their nature, as any external force. Persons 
 of this character would add, if they might be heard, that 
 they consider themselves as acting in the view of an in- 
 finite Being, who is in a much higher sense the object of 
 reverence and of love, than all the world besides; and 
 therefore they could have no more enjoyment from a 
 wicked action done under his eye, than the persons to 
 whom they are making their apology could, if all man- 
 kind were the spectators of it; and that the satisfaction 
 of approving themselves to his unerring judgment, to 
 whom they thus refer all their actions, is a more con- 
 tinued settled satis faj^tion than any this world clan afford; 
 as also that they have, no less than others, a mind free 
 and open to all the common innocent gratifications of it, 
 such as they are. And if we go no further, does there 
 appear any absurdity in this? Will any one take upon, 
 him to say, that a man cannot find his account in tltis 
 general course of life, as much as in the most unbounded 
 ambition, and the excesses of pleasure ? Or that such a 
 person has not consulted so well for himself, for the 
 satisfaction and peace of his own mind, as the ambitious 
 or dissolute man? And though the consideration, that 
 God himself will in the end justify their taste, and sup- 
 port their cause, is not form#.lly to be insisted upon here; 
 
^KiuXL] OUR NEIGHBOUR. 135 
 
 yet thus much comes in, that all enjoyments whatever 
 are much more clear and unmixed from the assurance 
 that they will end well. Is it certain then that there is 
 •nothing in these pretensions to happiness? especially 
 when there are not wanting persons, who have supported 
 themselves with satisfactions of this kind in sickness, 
 poverty, disgrace, and in the very pangs of death; where- 
 as it is manifest all other enjoyments fail in these cir- 
 cumstances. This surely looks suspicious of having 
 somewhat in it. Self-love methinks should be alarmed. 
 May she not possibly pass over greater pleasures, than 
 those she is so wholly taken up with? 
 
 The short of the matter is no more than this. Hap-i 
 piness consists in the gratification of certain affections, 
 appetites, passions, with objects which are by nature 
 adapted to them. Self-love may indeed set us on work 
 to 'gratify these ; but happiness or enjoyment has no 
 immediate connexion with self-love, but arises from such 
 gratification alone. Love of our neighbour is one of 
 'those affections. This, considered as a virtuous principle, 
 is gratified by a consciousness of endeavouring to promote 
 the good of others ; but considered as natural affection, 
 its gratification consists in the actual accomplishment of 
 -this endeavour. Now indulgence or gratification of this 
 • affection, whether in that consciousness, or this accom- 
 plishment, has the same respect to interest, as indulgence 
 of any other affection; they equally proceed from or do 
 not proceed from self-love, they equally include or 
 •equally exclude this principle. Thus it appears, that 
 'benevolence and the pursuits of public good hath at least as 
 great respect to self-love and the pursuits of private good, 
 as any other particular passions, aja,d their respective 
 pursuits. — ^ 
 
 Neither is covetousness, whether as a temper or pur- 
 suit, any exception to this. For if by covetousness is 
 meant the desire and pursuit of riches for their own sake, 
 without any regard to, or consideration of, the uses of 
 them ; this hath as little to do with self-love, as benevo- 
 lence hath. But by this word is usually meant, not such 
 madness and total distraction of mind, but immoderate 
 affection to and pursuit of riches as possessions in order 
 
136 UPON THE LOVE OF Sbb. XI. 
 
 to some further end; namely, satisfaction, interest, or 
 good. This therefore is not a particular affection, or 
 particulai' pursuit, but it is the general principle of self- 
 love, and the general pursuit of our own interest; for 
 which reason, the word selfish is by every one appro- 
 priated to this temper and pursuit. Now as it is ridicul- 
 ous to assert, that self-love and the love of our neighbour 
 are the same: so neither is it asserted, that following 
 these different affections hath the same tendency and^ 
 respect to our own interest. The comparison is not be- 
 ,tween self-love and the love of our neighbour; between 
 Ipursuit of our own interest, and the interest of others:, 
 but between the several particular affections in human 
 nature towards external objects, as one part of the com- 
 parison; and the one particular affection to the good of 
 our neighbour, as the other part of it: and it has been 
 \shown, that all these have the same respect to self-love 
 and private interest. 
 
 There is indeed frequently an inconsistence or inter- 
 fering between self-love or private interest, and th& 
 several particular appetites, passions, affections, or the 
 , pursuits they lead to. But this competition or interfer- 
 ing is merely accidental; and happens much oftener be- 
 tween pride, revenge, sensual gratifications, and private 
 interest, than between private interest and benevolence. 
 For nothing is more common, than to see men give 
 themselves up to a passion or an affection to their known 
 prejudice and ruin, and in direct contradiction to mani- 
 fest and real interest, and the loudest calls of self-lover 
 whereas the seeming competitions and interfering, be- 
 tween benevolence and private interest, relate much 
 more to the materials or means of enjoyment, than to 
 enjoyment itself. There is often an interfering in the 
 former, when there is none in the latter. Thus as to 
 /fiches: so much money as a man gives away, so much 
 less will remain in his possession. Here is a real interfer- 
 ing. But* though a man cannot possibly give without 
 lessening his fortune, yet there are multitudes might give 
 without lessening their own enjoyment; because they 
 may have more than they can turn to any r'eal use or 
 advantage to themselves. Thus, the more thought and 
 
Seh. XI.] OUR NEIGHBODR. 137 
 
 time any one employs about the interests and good of 
 others, he must necessarily have less to attend his ownj 
 but he may have so ready and large a supply of his own 
 wants, that such thought might be really useless to him- 
 self, though of great service and assistance to others. 
 
 The general mistake, that there is some greater incon- 
 sistence between endeavouring to promote the good of 
 another and self-interest, than between self-interest and 
 pursuing any thing else, seems, as hath already been, 
 hinted, to arise from our notions of property; and to b& 
 carried on by this property's being supposed to be itself 
 our happiness or good. People are so very much taken 
 up with this one subject, that they seem from it to have- 
 formed a general way of thinking, which they apply to- 
 other things that they have nothing to do with. Hence, 
 in a confused and slight way, it might well be taken for 
 granted, that another's having no interest in an affection,. 
 (t. e. his good not being the object of it,) renders, as one 
 may speak, the proprietor's interest in it greater; and 
 that if another had an interest in it, this would render 
 his less, or occasion that such affection could not be so 
 friendly to self-love, or conducive to private good, as an 
 afiection or pursuit which has not a regard to the good 
 of another. This, I say, might be taken for granted, 
 whilst it was not attended to, that the object of every 
 particular affection is equally somewhat external to our-S 
 selves; and whether it be the good of another person, or. 
 whether it be any other external thing, makes no aftera- 
 tion with regard to its being one's own affection, and the 
 gratification of it one's own private enjoyment. And so- 
 far as it is taken for granted, that barely having the 
 means and materials of enjoyment is what constitutes 
 interest and happiness ; that our interest or good consists 
 in possessions themselves, in having the property of 
 riches, houses, lands, gardens, not in the enjoyment of 
 them; so far it will even more strongly be taken for 
 granted, in the way already explained, that an affection's 
 conducing to the good of another, must even necessarily 
 occasion it to conduce less to private good, if not to be 
 positively detrimental to it. For, if -property and happi- 
 ness are one and the same thing, as by increasing the 
 
138 UPON THE LOVE OF [Sm. XI. 
 
 property of another, you lessen your own property, so by 
 promoting the happiness of another,- you must lessen 
 your own happiness. JBut whatever occasion the mis- 
 take, I hope it has Been fully proved to be one ; as it has 
 been proved, that there is no peculiar rivalship or com- 
 petition between self-lo.ve and benevolence; that as 
 there may be a competition between these two, so there 
 may also between any particular affection whatever and 
 self-love; that every particular affection, benevolence 
 among the rest, is subservient to self-love, by being the 
 instrument of private enjoyment; and that in one respect 
 benevolence contributes more to private interest, i. e. en- 
 joyment or satisfaction, than any other of the particular 
 common affections, as it is in a degree its own gratifi- 
 cation. 
 
 And to all these things may be added, that religion, 
 from whence arises our strongest obligation to benevo- 
 lence, is so far from disowning the principle of self-love, 
 that it often addresses itself to that very principle, and 
 always to the mind in that state when reason presides: 
 and there can no access be had to the understanding, 
 but by convincing men, that the course of life we would 
 
 persuade them' to is not contrary to their interest. Jt 
 
 may be allowed, without any prejudice to the cause 
 of virtue and religion, that our ideas of happiness and 
 mfsery are of all our^ideas the nearest and most impor- 
 tant to us; that they will, nay, if you please, that they 
 ought'to prevail over those of order, and beauty, and 
 harmony, and proportion, if there should ever be, as it is 
 impossible there ever should be, any inconsistence "be- 
 tween them: though these last, too, as expressing the 
 fitness of actions, are real as truth itself. Let it be al- ' 
 lowed, though virtue or moral rectitude does indeed con- 
 sist in affection to and pursuit of what is right and good, 
 as such ; yet, that when we sit down in a cool hour, we 
 can neither justify to ourselves this or any other pursuit, 
 till we are convinced that it will be for our happiness, or 
 at least not contrary to it. 
 
 Common reason and humanity, will have some influ- 
 ence upon mankind, whatever becomes of speculations ; 
 but, so far as tlie interests of virtue depend upon the 
 
Ser. XI.] OUR NEIGHBOUR. 139 
 
 * 
 
 theory of it being secured from open scorn, so far its 
 very being in the wofid dcpenas"~npon its appearing to 
 have no contrariety to private interest and self-love. 
 The foregoing observations, therefore, it -is hoped, may 
 have gained a little ground in favour of the precept be- 
 fore us ; the particular explanation of which shall be the 
 subject of the next discourse. 
 
 I will conclude at present, with observing the peculiar 
 obligation which we are under to virtue and religion, as 
 enforced in the verses following the text, in the epistle 
 for the day, from our Saviour's coming into the world. 
 The night is far spent, the day is at hand; let us therefore 
 cast off the works of darkness, and let us put on the armour 
 of light, &c. The meaning and force of which exhorta- 
 tion is, that Christianity lays us under new obligations 
 to a good life, as by it the will of God is more clearly 
 revealed, and as it a^brds additional motives to the prac- 
 tice of it, over and above those which arise out of the 
 nature of virtue and vice; I might add, as our Saviour 
 has set us a perfect example of goodness in our own na- 
 ture. Now love and charity is plainly the thing in which 
 he hath placed his rehgion; in which, therefore, as we 
 have any pretence to the name of Christians, we must 
 place ours. He hath at" once enjoined it upon us by 
 way of command with peculiar force; and by his exam- 
 ple, as having undertaken the work of our salvation out 
 of pure love and good-will to mankind. The endeavour 
 to set home this example upon our minds is a very pro- 
 per employment of this season, which is bringing on the 
 festival of his birth: which as it may teach us many ex- 
 cellent lessons of humility, resignation, and obedience to 
 the will of God; so there is none it recommends with 
 greater authority, force, and advantage, than this of love 
 and char ity ; since it was for us nien, and for our salva- 
 .iion, that he came down from heaven, and was incarnate, 
 and was made man; that he might teach us our duty, and 
 more especially that he might enforce the practice of it, 
 \ reform mankind, and finally bring us to that eternal sal- 
 mtion, of which he is the Author to all those that obey him. 
 
140 UPON THE LOVE OP 
 
 SERMON XIL 
 
 UPON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. 
 
 And if there he any other commandment, it is hriefly comprehended 
 in this saying, namely. Thou shall love thy neighbour as thyself, — 
 Rom. xiii. 9. 
 
 Having already removed the prejudices against public 
 spirit, or the love of our neighbour, on the side of private 
 interest and self-love ; I proceed to the particular expla- 
 nation of the precept before us, by showing. Who is our 
 neighbour : In what sense we are required to love him as 
 ourselves : The influence such love would Imve upon our 
 behaviour in life : and lastly. How this commandment com- 
 prehends in it all others. 
 
 I. The objects and due extent of this affection will be 
 understood by attending to the nature of it, and to the 
 nature and circumstances of mankind in this world. The 
 love of our neighbour is the same with charity, benevo- 
 lence, or good-will: it is an affection to the good and 
 happiness of our fellow creatures. This implies in it a 
 disposition to produce happiness: and this is the simple 
 notion of goodness, which appears so amiable wherever 
 we meet with it. From hence it is easy to see, that the 
 perfection of goodness consists in love to the whole uni- 
 verse. This is the perfection of Almighty God. 
 
 But as man is so much limited in his capacity, as so 
 small a part of the creation comes under his notice and 
 influence, and as we are not used to consider things in 
 so general a way; it is not to be thought of, that the 
 universe should be the object of benevolence to such 
 creatures as we are. Thus in that precept of our Savi- 
 our, Be ye perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven 
 is perfect,* the perfection of the divine goodness is pro- 
 posed to our imitation as it is promiscuous, and extends 
 to the evil as well as the good; not as it is absolutely 
 universal, imitation of it in this respect being plainly 
 beyond us. The object is too vast. For this reason 
 
 * Matt. V. 48. 
 
Ser. XII.l OUR NEIGHBOUR. 141 
 
 moral writers also have substituted a less general object 
 for our benevolence, mankind. But this likewise is an 
 object too general, and very much out of our view. 
 Therefore persons more practical have, instead of man- 
 kind, put our country; and this is what we call a public 
 spirit; which in men of public stations is the character 
 of a patriot. But this is speaking to the upper part of 
 the world. Kingdoms and governments are large; and 
 the sphere of action of far the greatest part of mankind 
 is much narrower than the government they live under: 
 or, however, common men do not consider their actions 
 as affecting the whole community of which they are 
 members. There plainly is wanting a less general and 
 nearer object of benevolence for the bulk of men, than 
 that of their country. Therefore the scripture, not being 
 a book of theory and speculation, but a plain rule of life 
 for mankind, has with the utmost possible propriety put 
 the principle of virtue upon the love of our neighbour; 
 which is that part of the universe, that part of mankind, 
 that part of our cojuntry, which comes under our imme- 
 diate notice, acquaintance, and influence, and with which 
 we have to do. 
 
 This is plainly the true account or reason, why our 
 Saviour places the principle of virtue in the love of our 
 neighbour; and the account itself shows who are compre- 
 hended under that relation. 
 
 II. Let us now consider in what sense we are com- 
 manded to love our neighbour as ourselves. 
 
 This precept, in its first delivery by our Saviour, is 
 thus introduced: Thou shall love the Lord thy God with 
 all thine heart, with all thy soul, and with all thy strength; 
 and thy neighbour as thyself. These very different man- 
 ners of expression do not lead our thoughts to the same 
 measure or degree of love, common to both objects ; but 
 to ; one, peculiar to each. Supposing then, which is to 
 be supposed, a distinct meaning and propriety in the 
 words, as thyself; the precept we are considering will 
 admit of any of these senses: that we bear the same kind 
 of affection to our neighbour, as we do to ourselves : or, 
 that the love we bear to our neighbour should have some 
 certain proportion or other to self-love : or, lastly, that it 
 
142 UPON THE LOVE OF [Seb. XII. 
 
 should bear the particular proportion of equality, that it 
 he in the same degree. 
 
 First, The precept -may he understood as requiring 
 only, that we have the same kind of affection. to_ our 
 fellow creatures, as to ourselves: that, as every man has 
 the principle of self-love, which disposes him to avoid' 
 misery, and consult his own happiness; so we should 
 cultivate the affection of good-will to our neighbour, and 
 that it should influence us to have the same kind oi 
 regard to him. This at least must be commanded: and 
 this will not only prevent our being injurious to him, but 
 will also put us upon promoting his good. There are 
 blessings in life, which we share in common wjth others; 
 peace, plenty, freedom, healthful seasons. But real 
 benevolence to our fellow creatures would give us the 
 notion of a common interest in a stricter sense: for in 
 the degree we love another, his interest, his joys and 
 sorrows,' are our own. It is from self-love that we form 
 the notion of private good, and consider it as our own: 
 love of our neighbour would teach us4hus to appropriate 
 to ourselves his good and welfare, to consider ourselves 
 as having a real share in his happiness. Thus the prin- 
 ciple of benevolence would be an advocate within our 
 own breasts, to take care of the interests of our fellow 
 creatures in all the interfering and competitions which 
 cannot but be, from the imperfection of our nature, and 
 the state we are in. It would likewise, in some measure, 
 lessen that interfering; and hinder men from forming so 
 strong a notion of private good, exclusive of the good of 
 others, as we commonly do. Thus, as the private affec- 
 tion makes us in a peculiar manner sensible of humanity, 
 justice or injustice, when exercised towards ourselves ,- 
 love of our neighbour would give us the same kind of 
 sensibility in his behalf. This would be the greatest 
 security of our uniform obedience to that most equitable 
 rule ; Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, 
 do ye even so unto them. 
 
 All this is indeed no more than that we should have a 
 real love to our neighbour: but then, which is to be ob- 
 served, the words, as thyself, express this in the most 
 distinct manner, and determine the precept to relate to 
 
Rrh. XII.] OUR NEIGHBOUR. M3 
 
 the affection itself. The advantage, which this principle 
 of benevolence has over other remote considerations, is, 
 that it is itself the temper of virtue : and likewise, that if 
 is the chief, nay the only effectual security of our per- 
 forming the several offices of kindness we owe to our , 
 fellow creatures. When from distant considerations 
 men resolve uponany thing to which they have no liking, 
 or perhaps an averseness, they are perpetually finding 
 out evasions and excuses ; which need never be "wanting, 
 if people look for them: and they equivocate with them- 
 selves in the plainest cases in the world. This may be 
 in respect to single determinate acts of virtue: but it 
 comes in much more, where the obligation is to a gene- 
 ral course of behaviour; and most of all, if it be such as 
 cannot be reduced to fixed determinate rules. This 
 observation may account for the diversity of the expres- 
 sion, in that known passage of the prophet Micah: to do 
 justly, emd to love mercy. A man's heart must be formed 
 to humanity and benevolence, he must love merci/, other- 
 wise he will not act mercifully in any settled course o{ 
 behaviour. As consideration of the future sanctions of 
 religion is our only security of persevering in our duty, 
 in cases of great temptations: so to get our heart and 
 temper formed to a love and liking of what is good, is 
 absolutely necessary in order to our behaving rightly in 
 the familiar and daily intercourses amongst mankind. 
 
 Secondly, The precept before us may be undtrstood; 
 to require, that we love our neighbour in some certain'j 
 proportion or other, according as we love ourselves.j 
 And indeed a man's character cannot be determined by 
 the love he bears to his neighbour, considered absolutely : 
 but the proportion which this bears to self-love, whether 
 it be attended to or not, is the chief thing which forms 
 the character, and influences the actions. For, as the 
 form of the body is a composition of various parts; so 
 likewise our inward structure is not simple or uniform, 
 but a composition of various passions, appetites, affec- 
 tions, together with rationahty; including in this last 
 both the discernment of what is rights and a disposition 
 to regulate ourselves by it. There is greater variety of 
 parts in what we call a character, than there are features 
 
144 UPON THE LOVM OF [Ser. XIL 
 
 in a face : and the morality of that is no more determined 
 by one part, than the beauty or deformity of this is by 
 one single feature : each is to be judged of by all the 
 parts or features, not taken singly, but together. In the 
 inward frame the various passions, appetites, affections, 
 stand in different respects to each other. The principles 
 in our mind may be contradictory, or checks and allays 
 only, or incentives and assistants to each other. And 
 principles, which in their nature have no kind of con- 
 trariety or affinity, may yet accidentally be each other's 
 allays or incentives. 
 
 From hence it comes to pass, that though we were 
 able to look into the inward contexture of the heart, and 
 see with the greatest exactness in what degree any one 
 principle is in a particular man ; we could not from 
 thence determine, how far that principle would go to- 
 wards forming the character, or what influence it would 
 have upon the actions, unless we could likewise discern 
 what other principles prevailed in him, and see the pro- 
 portion which that one bears to the others. Thus, though 
 two men should have the affection of compassion in the 
 same degree exactly : yet one may have the principle 
 of resentment, or of ambition so strong in him, as to 
 prevail over that of compassion, and prevent its having 
 any influence upon his actions ; so that he may deserve 
 the character of an hard or cruel man: whereas the other 
 having compassion in just the same degree only, yet 
 having resentment or ambition in a lower degree, his 
 compassion may prevail over them, so as to influence his 
 actions, and to denominate his temper compassionate. 
 So that, how strange soever it may appear to people who 
 do not attend to the thing, yet it is quite manifest, that, 
 when we say one man is more resenting or compassionate 
 than another, this does not necessarily imply that one 
 has the principle of resentment or of compassion stronger 
 dian the other. For if the proportion, which resentment 
 or compassion bears to other inward principles, is greater 
 in one than in the other; this is itself sufficient to deno- 
 minate one more resenting or compassionate than the 
 other. 
 
 Further, the whole system, as I may speak, of affec- 
 
feR. XII.l OUR NEIGHBOUR. 145 
 
 tions (including rationality), which constitute the heart, 
 as this word is used in Scripture and on moral subjects, 
 are each and all of them stronger in some than in others. 
 Now the proportion which the two general affections, 
 benevolence and self-love, bear to- each other, according 
 to this interpretation of the text, denominates men's 
 character as to virtue. Suppose then one man to have 
 the principle of benevolence in an higher degree than 
 another: it will not follow froni hence, that his general 
 temper, or character, or actions, will be more benevolent 
 than the other's. For he may have self-love in such a 
 degree as quite to prevail over benevolence; so that it 
 may have no influence at all upon his actions ; whereas 
 benevolence in the other person, though in a lower degree, 
 may yet be the strongest principle in his heart; and 
 strong enough to be the guide of his actions, so as to 
 denominate him a good and virtuous man. The case is 
 here as in scales: it is not one weight, considered in 
 itself, which determines whether the scale shall ascend 
 •or descend; but this depends upon the proportion which 
 that one weight hath to the other. 
 
 It being thus manifest that the influence which bene- 
 volence has upon our actions, and how far it goes towards 
 forming our character, is not determined by the degree 
 itself of this principle in our mind; but by the propor- 
 tion it has to self-love and other principles: a compari- 
 son also being made in the text between self-love and 
 the love of our neighbour; these joint considerations 
 afforded sufficient occasion for treating here of that pro- 
 portion: it plainly is implied in the precept, though it 
 should be questioned, whether it be the exact meaning 
 of the words, as thyself. 
 
 Love of our neighbour then must bear some proportion 
 to self-love, and virtue to be sure consists in the due pro- 
 portion. What this due proportion is, whether as a 
 principle in the mind, or as exerted in actions, can be 
 judged of only from our nature and condition in this 
 world. Of the degree in which affections and the prin- 
 ciples of action, considered in themselves, prevail, we 
 have no measure: let us then proceed to the course of 
 behaviour, the actions they produce. 
 
 K 
 
146 UPON THK LOVE OF [Sra.XnV 
 
 Both our nature and condition require, that each par- 
 ticular man should make particular provision for himself: 
 and the inquiry, what proportion benevolence should have 
 to self-love, when brought down to practice, will be,, 
 what is a competent care and provision for ourselves. 
 And how certain soever it be, that each man must deter- 
 mine this for himself; and how ridiculous soever it 
 would be, for any to attempt to determine it for another: 
 yet it is to be observed, that the proportion is real; and 
 that a competent provision has a bound; and that it can- 
 not be all which we can possibly get and keep within 
 our grasp, without legal injustice. Mankind almost uni- 
 versally bring in vanity, supplies for what is called a life 
 of pleasure, covetousness, or imaginary notions of supe- 
 riority over othc rs, to determine this question : but every 
 one who desires to act a proper part in society, would 
 do well to consider, how far any of them come in to* 
 determine it, in the way of moral consideration. All 
 that can be said is, supposins;, what, as the world goes^ 
 is so much to be supposed that is scarce to be mentioned^ 
 that persons do not neglect what they really owe to- 
 themselves; the more of their care and thought, and of 
 their fortune, they employ in doing good to their fellow- 
 creatures, the nearer they come up to the law of perfec- 
 tion, Thou shall love thy neighbour as thyself. 
 
 Thirdly, if the words, as thyself, were to be understood' 
 of an equality of affection; it would not be attended with 
 those consequences, which perhaps may be thought to- 
 follow from it. Suppose a person to have the same set- 
 tled regard to others, as to himself; that in every deli- 
 berate scheme or pursuit he took their interest into the 
 account in the same degree as his own, so far as an 
 equality of affection would produce this: yet he would in* 
 fact, and ought to be, much more taken up and employee? 
 about himself, and his own concerns, than about others, 
 and their interests. For, besides the one common affec- 
 tion toward himself and his neighbour, he would have 
 several other particular affections, passions, appetites, 
 which he could not possibly feel in common both for 
 himself and others : now these sensations themselves 
 very much employ us; and have perhaps as great inftu- 
 
Ses. XII.] OUR NEIGHBOUR. 147 
 
 ence as seif-love. So far indeed as self-love, and coo! 
 reflection upon what is for our interest, would set us on 
 worlc to gain a supply of our own several wants: so far 
 the love of our neighbour would make us do the same 
 for him : but the degree in which we are put upon seek- 
 ing and making use of the means of gratification, by the 
 feeling of those affections, appetites, and passions, must 
 necessarily be peculiar to ourselves. 
 
 That there are particular passions (suppose shame, 
 resentment,) which men seem to have, and feel in com- 
 mon, both for themselves and others, makes no altera- 
 tion in respect to those passions and appetites which 
 cannot possibly be thus felt in common. From hence 
 (and perhaps more things of the like kind might be 
 mentioned) it follows, that though there were an equality 
 of affection to both, yet regard to ourselves, would be 
 more prevalent than attention to the concerns of others. 
 
 And from moral considerations it ought to be so, sup- 
 posing still the equality of affection commanded: because 
 we are in a peculiar manner, as I may speak, intrusted 
 with ourselves; and therefore care of our own interests, 
 as well as of our conduct, particularly btlongs to us. 
 
 To these things must be added, that moral obligations 
 can extend no further than to natural possibilities. Now 
 we have a perception of our own interests, like consci- 
 ousness of our own existence, which we always carry 
 about with us; and which, in its continuation, kind, and 
 degree, seems impossible to be felt in respect to the in- 
 terests of others. 
 
 From all these things it fully appears, that though wej 
 were to love our neighbour in the same degree as we 
 love ourselves, so far as this is possible; yet the care ofi 
 ourselves, of the individual, would not be neglected; the' 
 apprehended danger of which seems to be the only ob- 
 jection against understanding the precept in this strict 
 sense. 
 
 I [I. The general temper of mind which the due love 
 of our neighbour would form us to, and the influence it 
 would have upon our behaviour in life, is now to be 
 considered. 
 
 Th« temper and behaviofur of charity is explained at 
 
 K2 
 
148 UPON THE LOVE OF [Ser. XII. 
 
 large, in that known passage of St Paul:* Charity suf- 
 fereth Jong, and is kind; charity envieth 7iot, doth not 
 behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, thinketh no 
 evil, beareth all things, believetli all things, hopeth all things. 
 As to tlie meaning of the expressions, seeketh not her 
 own, thinketh no evil, believeth ail things; however those 
 expressions may be explained away, this meekness, and 
 in some degree easiness of temper, readiness to forego 
 our right for the sake of peace, as well as in the way of 
 compassion, freedom from mistrust, and disposition *to 
 believe well of our neighbour, this general temper, I 
 say, accompanies, and is plainly the effect of love and 
 good-will. And, though such is the world in which we 
 live, that experience and knowledge of it not only may, 
 but must beget in us greater regard to ourselves, and 
 doubtfulness of the characters of others, than is natural 
 to mankind; yet these ought not to be carried further 
 than the nature and course of things make necessary. 
 It is still true, even in the present state of things, bad as 
 it is, that a real good man had rather be deceived, than 
 be suspicious; had rather forego his known right, than, 
 run the venture of doing even a hard thing. This is- the 
 general temper of that charity, of which the apostle 
 asserts, that if he had it not, giving his body to be burned 
 would avail him nothing; and which he says shall never 
 fail. 
 
 j The happy influence of this temper extends to every 
 ■different relation and circumstance in human life. It 
 plainly renders a man better, more to be desired, as 
 to all the respects and relations we can stand in to 
 each other. The benevolent man is disposed to make 
 use of all external advantages in such a manner as 
 shall contribute to the good of others, as well as to his 
 own satisfaction. His own satisfaction consists in this. 
 He will be easy and kind to his dependents, compas- 
 sionate to the poor and distressed, friendly to all with 
 whom he has to do. This includes the good neighbour, 
 parent, master, magistrate : and such a behaviour would 
 plainly make dependence, inferiority, and even servitude, 
 easy. So that a good or charitable man of superior rank 
 
 * 1 Cor. siii. 
 
8eb. XII. OUR NEIGHBOUR. 149 
 
 in wisdom, fortune, authority, is a common blessing to 
 the place he iives in: happiness grows under his influ- 
 ence. This good principle in inferiors would discover 
 itself in paying respect, gratitude, obedience, as due. It 
 were therefore, methinks, one just way of trying one's 
 own character, to ask ourselves, am I in reality a better 
 master or servant, a better friend, a better neighbour, 
 than such and such persons; whom, perhaps, I may 
 think not to deserve the character of virtue and religion 
 so much as myself? 
 
 And as to the spirit of party, which unhappily prevails 
 amongst mankind, whatever are the distinctions which 
 serve for a supply to it, some or other of which have 
 obtained in all ages and countries: one who is thus 
 friendly to his kind will immediately make due allow- 
 ances for it, as what cannot but be amongst such crea- 
 tures as men, in such a world as this. And as wrath 
 and fury and overbearing upon these occasions proceed, 
 as I may speak, from men's feeling only on their own 
 side: so a common feeling, for others as well as for our- 
 selves, would render us sensible to this truth, which it is 
 strange' can have so little influence; that we ourselves 
 differ from others, just as much as they do from us. I 
 put the matter in this way, because it can scarce be 
 expected that the generality of men should see, that those 
 things which are made the occasions of dissension and 
 fomenting the party-spirit, are really nothing at all: but 
 it may be expected from all people, how much soever 
 they are in earnest about their respective peculiarities, 
 that humanity, and common good-will to their fellow 
 creatures, should moderate and restrain that wretched 
 spirit. 
 
 This good temper of charity likewise would prevent 
 strife -and enmity arising from other occasions : ' it would 
 prevent our giving just cause of offence, and our taking 
 it without cause. And in cases of real injury, a good 
 man will make all the allowances which are to be made ; 
 and, without any attempts of retaliation, he will only 
 consult his own and other men's security for the future, 
 against injustice and wrong. 
 
 IV. I proceed to consider lastly, what is affirmed of 
 
150 UPON THE LOVE OF fSm. XU 
 
 the precept now explained, that it comprehends in it 
 all others ; i. e. that to love our neighbour as ourselveg 
 includes in it all virtues. 
 
 Now the way in which every maxim of conduct, or 
 general speculative assertion, when it is to be explained 
 at large, should be treated, is, to show what are the par- 
 ticular truths which were designed to be comprehended 
 under such a general observation, how far it is strictly 
 true; and then the limitations, restrictions, and excep- 
 tions, if there be exceptions, with which it is to be under- 
 stood. But it is only the former of these; namely, how 
 far the assertion in the text holds, and the ground of 
 the pre-eminence assigned to the precept of it, which in 
 strictness comes into our present consideration. 
 I However, in almost every thing that is said, there is 
 somewhat to be understood beyond what is explicitly laid 
 down, and which we of course supply ; somewhat, I mean, 
 which would not be commonly called a restriction, or 
 limitation. Thus, when benevolence is said to be the 
 sum of virtue, it is not spoken of as a blind propension, 
 but as a principle in reasonable creatures, and so to be 
 directed by their reason: for reason and reflection come 
 into our notion of a moral agent. And that will lead us 
 to consider distant consequences, as well as the immediate 
 tendency of an action : it will teach us, that the care of 
 some persons, suppose children and families, is parti- 
 cularly committed to our charge by Nature and Provi- 
 dence ; as also that there are other circumstances, suppose 
 friendship or former obligations, which require that we 
 do good to some preferably to others. Reason, con- 
 sidered merely as subservient to benevolence, as assist- 
 ing to produce the greatest good, will teach us to have 
 particular regard to these relations and circumstances; 
 because it is plainly for the good of the world that they 
 should be regarded. And as there are numberless cases, 
 in which, notwithstanding appearances, we are not com- 
 petent judges, whether a particular action will upon the 
 whole do good or harm; reason in the same way will 
 teach us to be cautious how we act in these cases of 
 uncertainty. It will suggest to our consideration, which 
 is the safer side; how liable we are to be led wrong by 
 
■Skr. XU.j OUR NEIGHBOUR. 151 
 
 passion and private interest; and what regard is due to 
 laws, and the judgment of mankind. All these things 
 must come into consideration, were it only in order to 
 determine which way of acting is likely to produce the 
 greatest good. Thus, upon supposition that it were in 
 the strictest sense true, without limitation, that benevo- 
 lence includes in it all virtues; yet reason must come in 
 as its guide and director, in order to attain its own end, 
 the end of benevolence, the greatest public good. Rea- 
 son then being thus included, let us now consider the 
 truth of the assertion itself. 
 
 First, It is manifest that nothing can be of consequence 
 to mankind or any creature, but happiness. This then 
 is all which any person can, in strictness of speaking, be 
 said to have a right to. We can therefore owe no man 
 any thing, but only to further and promote his happiness, 
 according to our abilities. And therefore a disposition 
 -and endeavour to do good to all with whom we have to 
 •do, in the degree and manner which the different rela- 
 tions we stand in to them require, is a discharge of all 
 the obligations we are under to them. 
 
 As human nature is not one simple uniform thing, 
 but a composition of various parts, body, spirit, appetites, 
 particular passions, and affections; for each of which 
 reasonable self-love would lead men to have due regard, 
 and make suitable provision : so society consists of vari- 
 ous parts, to which we stand in different respects and 
 relations; and just benevolence would as surely lead us 
 to have due regard to each of these, and behave as the 
 respective relations require. Reasonable good- will, and 
 right behaviour towards our fellow creatures, are in a 
 manner the same: only that the former expresseth the 
 principle as it is in the mind; the latter, the principle as 
 it were become external, i. e. exerted in actions. 
 
 And so far as temperance, sobriety, and moderation in 
 sensual pleasures, and the contrary vices, have any re- 
 spect to our fellow creatures, any influence upon their 
 quiet, welfare, and happiness; as they always have a 
 real, and often a near influence upon it; so far it is 
 finanifest those virtues may be produced by the love of 
 our neighbour, and that the contrary vices would be pre- 
 
152 UPON THE LOVE OP [Seb. XII.. 
 
 vented by it. Indeed if men's regard to themselves will, 
 not restrain them from excess; it may be thought little 
 probable, that their love to others will be sufficient: but. 
 the reason is, that their love to others is not, any more 
 than their regard to themselves, just, and in its due 
 degree. There are however manifest instances of per- 
 sons kept sober and temperate from regard to their affairs^ 
 and the welfare of those who depend upon them. And 
 it is obvious to every one, that habitual excess, a dissolute 
 course of life, impHes a general neglect of the duties we 
 owe towards our friends, our families, and our country. 
 
 From hence it is manifest that the common virtues, 
 and the common vices of mankind, may be traced up tO' 
 benevolence, or the want of it. And this entitles the 
 precept, Thou shall love thy neighbour as thyself, to the 
 pre-eminence given to it; and is a justification of the 
 Apostle's assertion, that all other commandments are 
 comprehended in it; whatever cautions and restrictions* 
 there are, which might require to be considered, if we 
 were to state particularly and at length, what is virtue- 
 and right behaviour in mankind. But, 
 
 Secondly, It might be added, that in a higher and 
 more general way of consideration, leaving out the par- 
 
 * For instance : as vre are not competent judges, whnt is upon the whole for the 
 coofi of the world, there may be other iiiunedlate ends appointed us to pursue, 
 besides that one of doing good, or producing happiness. Though the good of the 
 creation be the only end of llie Author of it, yet he may have laid us under particular 
 uhligaiions, which we may discern and feel oureelves under, quite distinct from a per- 
 ception, that llie observance or violation of Lhem is for the liappiness or misery of our 
 fellow creatures. And this is in fact the case. For there are certain dispositions of 
 mind, and ceriain actions, which are in tliemselves approved or disapproved by man- 
 kind, [distracted from tlie consideration of their tendency to the happiness or miseiy 
 1 f the worhl ; approved or disapproved by reflection , by that principle within, which 
 is the guide of life, the jndgf' of right and wrong. Knnd)erless instances of this kind, 
 miglit be mentioned. There are pieces of treachery, wliich in themselves appear 
 ba^e and detestal)le to every one. Thi-re are actions, wliich perhaps can scarce have 
 any other general name given them, than indecencies, which yet are odious ami 
 shocking to human nature. There is such a thing as meanness, a little mind ; 
 which, as it is quite distinct fiorn incapacity, so it raises a dislike and disapprobation • 
 quite different from tliat contempt, which nun are too apt to have, <if mere folly. 
 On the other hand ; what we call greatness of mind is the object of another sort oi 
 approbation, than superior understanding. Fidelity, honour, strict justice, are them- 
 selves approved in the highest degree, abslraeted from the consideration of their 
 tendency. Now, whether it be thought that ( ach of these are connecteil with bene- 
 volence in our nature, and so may lie considered as the same thing with it ; ori 
 whether some of them be thought an inferior kind of virtues and vices, somewhat 
 1 Ice natural beauties and deformities ; or lastly, plain exceptions to the general rule ; 
 Ihus much however is certain, that the things now instanced in, and numoerless^ 
 jlliery, lire approved or disapproved by mankind in general, in quite another view 
 tliaii lis conducive to the liappiness or misery of the world. 
 
Ser. XII.] OUR NEIGHBQUR. 15$ 
 
 ticular nature of creatures, and the particular circum- 
 stances in which they are placed, benevolence seems in 
 the strictest sense to include in it all that is good and 
 worthy; all that is good, which we have any distinct 
 particular notion of. We have no clear conception of 
 any positive moral attribute in the supreme Being, but 
 what may be resolved up into goodness. And, if we 
 consider a reasonable creature or moral agent, without 
 regard to the particular relations and circumstances in 
 which he is placed ; we cannot conceive any thing else 
 to come in towards determining whether he is to be 
 ranked in a higher or lower class of virtuous beings, but 
 the higher or lower degree in which that principle, and 
 what is manifestly connected with it, prevail in him. 
 
 That which we more strictly call piety, or the love of 
 God, and which is an essential part of a right temper, 
 some may perhaps imagine no way connected with bene- 
 volence: yet surely they must be connected, if there be 
 indeed in being an object infinitely good. Human nature 
 is so constituted, that every good affection implies the 
 love of itself; i. e. becomes the object of a new affection 
 in the same person. Thus, to be righteous, implies in it 
 the love of righteousness ; to be benevolent, the love of 
 benevolence ; to be good, the love of goodness ; whether 
 this righteousness, benevolence, or goodness, be viewed 
 as in our own mind, or in another's: and the love of 
 God as a being perfectly good, is the love of perfect 
 goodness contemplated in a being or person. Thus 
 morality and religion, virtue and piety, will at last neces- 
 sarily coincide, run up into one and the same point, and 
 love will be in all senses the end of the commandment. 
 
 O Almighty God, inspire us vnth thih divine principle; 
 kill in us all the seeds of envy and ill-will; and help us, 
 by cultivating within ourselves the love of our neighbour, 
 to improve in the love of thee. Thou hast placed in us 
 various kindreds, friendships, avd rrhfions, as the school 
 of discipline for our affections: help us, by the due ex- 
 ercise of them, to improve to perfection; till all partial 
 affection be lost in that entire universal one, and thou, O 
 God, shall be all in all. 
 
\ 
 
 154 DP ON THE LOVE OV GOD. [S*b.XIII. 
 
 SERMON XIII. XIV. 
 
 UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. 
 
 Thou shall love the Lord tJiy God with all thy heart, and teifh aU 
 thy sold, and loith all thy miJid. — Matt. xxii. 37. 
 
 Every body knows, you therefore need only just be put 
 in mind, that there is such a thing, as having so great 
 horror of one extreme, as to run insensibly and of course 
 into the contrary ; and-^hat a doctrine's having been a 
 shelter for enthusiasm, or made to serve the purposes of 
 superstition, is no proof of the falsity of it : truth or right 
 being somewhat real in itself, and so not to be judged of 
 by its liableness to abuse, or by its supposed distance 
 from or nearness to error. It may be sufficient to have 
 mentioned this in general, without taking notice of the 
 particular extravagancies, which have been vented under 
 the pretence or endeavour of explaining the love of 
 God ; or how manifestly we are got into the contrary 
 extreme, under the notion of a reasonable religion ; so 
 very reasonable, as to have nothing to do with the heart 
 and affections, if these words signify any thing but the 
 faculty by which we discern speculative truth. 
 
 By the love of God, I would understand all those' 
 regards, all those affections of mind which are due 
 immediately to him from such a creature as man, and 
 -which rest in him as their end. As this does not include 
 servile fear; so neither will any other regards, how 
 reasonable soever, which respect any thing out of or 
 besides the perfection of divine nature, come into consider- 
 ation here. But all fear is not excluded, because, his 
 •displeasure is itself the natural proper object of fear. 
 Reverence, ambition of his love and approbation, delight 
 in the hope or consciousness of it, come likewise into this 
 definition of the love of God ; because he is the natural 
 object of all those affections or movements of mind, as 
 really as he is the object of the affection, which is in the 
 strictest sense called love ; and all of them equally rest 
 
Sm. XIII.] UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. .155 
 
 in him, as their end. And they may all be understood 
 to be implied in these words of our Saviour, without 
 putting any force upon them : for he is speaking of the 
 love of God and our neighbour, as containing the whole 
 of piety and virtue. 
 
 It is plain that the nature of man is so constituted, as 
 to feel certain affections upon the sight or contemplation 
 of certain objects. Now the very notion of affection im- 
 plies resting in its object as an end. And the particular 
 affection to good characters, reverence and moral love 
 of them, is natural to all those who have any degree of 
 real goodness in themselves. This will be illustrated by 
 the description of a perfect character in a creature ; and 
 by considering the manner, in which a good man in his 
 presence would be affected towards such a character. 
 He would of course feel the affections of love, rever- 
 ence, desire of his approbation, delight in the hope or 
 consciousness of it. And surely all this is applicable, 
 and may be brought up to that Being, who is infinitely 
 more than an adequate object of all those affections : 
 whom we are commanded to love with all our Jieart, with 
 all our soul, and with all our mind. And of these regards 
 towards Almighty God, some are more particularly suit- 
 able to and becoming so imperfect a creature as man, in 
 this mortal state we are passing through ; and some of 
 them, and perhaps other exercises of the mind, will be 
 the employment and happiness of good men in a state 
 of perfection. 
 
 This is a general view of what the following discourse 
 will contain. And it is manifest the subject is a real 
 one : there is nothing in it enthusiastical or unreasonable. 
 And if it be indeed at all a subject; it is one of the utmost 
 importance. 
 
 As mankind have a faculty by which they discern 
 speculative truth; so we have various affections towards 
 external objects. Understanding and temper, reason 
 and affection, are as distinct ideas, as reason and hunger; 
 and one would think could no more be confounded. It 
 is by reason that we get the ideas of several objects of 
 our affections : but in these cases reason and affection 
 are no more the same, than sight of a particular objec^^ 
 
150 UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. [Ser. XIIV 
 
 and the pleasure or uneasiness consequent thereupon, 
 are the same. Now, as reason tends to and rests in the 
 discernment of truth, the object of it ; so the very nature 
 I of affection consists intending towards, and resting in, 
 [its objects as an end. We do indeed often in common 
 language say, that things are loved, desired, esteemed, 
 not for themselves, but for somewhat further, some- 
 what out of and beyond them : yet, in these cases, 
 whoever will attend, will see, that these things are not 
 in reality the objects of the affections, i. e. are not loved, 
 desired, esteemed, but the somewhat further and beyond 
 them. If we have no affections which rest in what are 
 called their objects, then what is called affection, love, 
 desire, hope, in human nature, is only an uneasiness in 
 being at rest ; an unquiet disposition to action, progress, 
 pursuit, without end or meaning. But if there be any 
 such thing as delight in the company of one person, 
 rather than of another; whether in the way of friendship, 
 or mirth and entertainment, it is all one, if it be without 
 respect to fortune, honour, or increasing our stores of 
 knowledge, or any thing beyond the present time ; here 
 is an instance of an affection absolutely resting in its 
 objects as its end, and being gratified in the same way as 
 the appetite of hunger is satisfied with food. Yet nothing 
 is more common than to hear it asked, what advantage 
 a man hath in such a course, suppose of study, particular 
 friendships, or in any other : nothing, I say, is more com- 
 mon than to hear such a question put in a way which, 
 supposes no gain, advantage, or interest, but as a means 
 to somewhat further : and if so, then there is no such 
 thing at all as real interest, gain, or advantage. This is 
 the same absurdity with respect to life, as infinite series 
 of effects without a cause is in speculation. The gain, 
 advantage, or interest, consists in the delight itself, aris- 
 ing from such a faculty's having its object : neither is 
 there any such thing as happiness or enjoyment, but 
 ■what arises from hence. The pleasures of hope and of 
 reflection are not exceptions : the former being only this 
 happiness anticipated ; the latter, the same happiness 
 enjoyed over again after its time. And even the 
 general expectation of future happiness can afford 
 
Skb. XIII.] UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. 157 
 
 satisfaction, only as it is a present object to the principle 
 of self-Jove. 
 
 It was doubtless intended, that life should be very 
 much a pursuit to the gross of mankind. ,But this is 
 carried so much further than is reasonable, that what 
 gives immediate satisfaction, i. e. our present interest, is 
 scarce considered as our interest at all. It is inventions 
 which have only a remote tendency towards enjoyment, 
 perhaps but a remote tendency towards gaining the 
 means only of enjoyment, which are chiefly spoken of 
 as useful to the world. And though this way of think- 
 ing were just with respect to the imperfect state we are 
 now in, where we know so little of satisfaction without 
 satiety; yet it must be guarded against, when we are con- 
 sidering the happiness of a state of perfection ; which hap- 
 piness being enjoyment and not hope, must necessarily 
 consist in this, that our affections have their objects, and 
 rest in those objects as an end, i. e. be satisfied with them. 
 This will further appear in the sequel of this discourse. 
 
 Of the several affections, or inward sensations, which 
 particular objects excite in man, there are some, the 
 having of which implies the love of them, when they are 
 reflected upon.* This cannot be said of all our affec- 
 tions, principles, and motives of action. It were ridi- 
 culous to assert, that a man upon reflection hath the 
 same kind of approbation of the appetite of hunger, or 
 the passion of fear, as he hath of good-will to his fellow 
 creatures. To be a just, a good, a righteous man, plainly 
 carries with it a peculiar affection to or love of justice, 
 goodness, righteousness, when these principles are the 
 objects of contemplation. Now if a man approves of, 
 or hath an affection to, any principle in and for itself, 
 incidental things allowed for, it will be the same whether 
 he views it in his own mind, or in another ; in himself, 
 or in his neighbour. This is the account of our approba- 
 tion of, our moral love and affection to good characters ; 
 which cannot but be in those who have any degrees 
 
 * St Austin observes, Amor ipse ordinate amandiis est, quo bfnc amatur quod 
 amandiim est, ut sit in noliis virtus qui vivilur bene, i. c The aglciion which we 
 righlly have for what is lovely, must ordinate justly, in due r.tanner and proportion, 
 lecome the object of a new cffection, or be itself beloved, in order to our being endued 
 with that virtue which is the principle of a good life. Civ. Dei. 1. xv. c 22. 
 
158 UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. [Smi. XIH, 
 
 of real goodness in themselves, and who discern and 
 take notice of the same principle in others. 
 
 From observation of what passes within ourselves, our 
 own actions, and the behaviour of others, the mind may 
 jcarry on its reflections as far as it pleases ; much beyond 
 I what we experience in ourselves, or discern in our fellow 
 creatures. It may go on, and consider goodness as become 
 ;a uniform continued principle of action, as conducted by 
 reason, and forming a temper and character absolutely 
 good and perfect, which is in a higher sense excellent, 
 and proportionably the object of love and approbation. 
 ( Let us then suppose a creature perfect according to 
 his created nature ; let his form be human, and his ca- 
 pacities no more than equal to those of the chief of men : 
 goodness shall be his proper character ; with wisdom to 
 direct it, and power within some certain determined 
 sphere of action to exert it ; but goodness must be the 
 simple actuating principle within him ; this being the 
 moral quality which is amiable, or the immediate object 
 ' of love as distinct from other affections of approbation. 
 Here then is a finite object for our mind to t^nd towards,, 
 to exercise itself upon : a creature, perfect according to 
 his capacity, fixed, steady, equally unmoved by weak pity 
 or more weak fury and resentment ; forming the justest 
 scheme of conduct ; going on undisturbed in the execution 
 of it, through the several methods of severity and reward, 
 towards his end, namely, the general happiness of all with 
 whom he hath to do, as in itself right and valuable. This 
 character, though uniform in^ itself, in its princi ple pyef 
 exerting itself in difierent ways, or considereJ~lni 
 different views, may by its appearing variety move diflFefenir 
 affections. Thus, the severity of justice would not affect us 
 in the same way as an act of mercy : the adventitious 
 quahties of wisdom and power may be considered in 
 themselves: and even the strength of mind, which this- 
 immoveable goodness supposes, may likewise be viewed 
 as an object of contemplation, distinct from the goodness 
 itself. Superior excellence of any kind, as well as superior 
 wisdom and power, is the object of awe and reverence to 
 ri creatures, whatever their moral character be: but so 
 Car as creatures of the lowest rank were good, so far the 
 
SK11.XIII.] UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. 1^9 
 
 view of this character, as simply good, must appear ami- 
 able to them, be the object of, or beget love. Further, ; 
 suppose we were conscious, that this superior person so 1 
 far approved of us, that we had nothing servilely to fear ' 
 from him; that he was really our friend, and kind and ' 
 good to us in particular, as he had occasionally inter- ' 
 course with us: we must be other creatures than we are, 
 or we could not but feel the same kind of satisfaction 
 and enjoyment (whatever would be the degree of it) , 
 from this higher acquaintance and friendship, as we feel '. 
 from common ones; the intercourse being real, and the 
 persons equally present, in both cases. We sho'uld have 
 a more ardent desire to be approved by his better judg- 
 ment, and a satisfaction in that approbation of the same 
 sort with what would be felt in respect to common per- , 
 sons, or be wrought in us by their presence. 
 
 Let us now raise the character, and suppose this crea- 
 tu'fe,~Tbr we are still going on with the supposition of a 
 creature, our proper guardian and governor; that we 
 were in a progress of being towards somewhat further; 
 and that his scheme of government was too vast for our 
 capacities to comprehend: remembering still that he is 
 perfectly good, and our friend as well as our governor. 
 Wisdom, power, goodness, accidentally viewed any 
 where, would inspire reverence, awe, love : and as these 
 affections would be raised in higher or lower degrees, in 
 proportion as we had occasionally more or less intercourse 
 with the creature endued with those qualities; so this 
 further consideration and linowledge, that he was our 
 proper guardian arid governor, would much more bring 
 these objects and qualities home to ourselves; teach us 
 they had a greater respect to us in particular, that we had a 
 higher interest in that wisdom and power and goodness. 
 We should, with joy, gratitude, reverence, love, trust, 
 and dependence, appropriate the character, as what we 
 had a right in ; and make our boast in such our relation to 
 it. A nd the con clusiojuoiLthe-wkole would be, that we 
 shouISTrefer ourselves implicitly to him, and cast our- 
 selves entirely upon him. As the whole attention of life 
 should be to obey his commands; so the highest enjoy- 
 ment of it must arise from thecoiUemplaMori of this cha- 
 
160 UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. [Sbb. XIII. 
 
 racter, and our relation to it, from a consciousness of his 
 favour and approbation, and from the exercise of those 
 affections towards him which could not but be raised 
 from his presence. A Being who hath these attributes, 
 who stands in this relation, and is thus sensibly present 
 to the mind, must necessarily be the object of these affec- 
 tions: there is as real a correspondence between them, as 
 between the lowest appetite of sense and its object. 
 r^^Uhzt this being is not a creature, but the Almighty 
 jGod; that he is of infinite power and wisdom and good- 
 iness, does not render him less the object of reverence 
 and love, than he would be if he had those attributes only 
 in a limited degree. The being who made us, and upon 
 whom we entirely depend, is the object of some regards. 
 He hath given us certain affections of mind, which cor- 
 respond to wisdom, power, goodness ; i. e. which are 
 raised upon view of those qualities. If then he be really 
 wise, powerful, good; he is the natural object of those 
 affections, which he has endued us with, and which cor- 
 respond to those attributes. That he is infinite in power, 
 perfect in wisdom and goodness, makes no alteration, but 
 only that he is the object of those affections raised to the 
 highest pitch. He is not indeed to be discerned by any 
 of our senses. / go forward, but he is not there; and 
 backward, but I cannot perceive 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. that I knew 
 where I might find him ! that I might come even to his 
 seat!* But is he then afar off .P does he not fill heaven 
 and earth with his presence ? The presence of our feU 
 low creatures affects our senses, and our senses give us 
 the knowledge of their presence; which hath different 
 kinds of influence upon us; love, joy, sorrow, restraint, 
 encouragement, reverence. However this influence is 
 not immediately from our senses, but from that know- 
 ledge. Thus suppose a person neither to see nor hear 
 another, not to know by any of his senses, but yet cer- 
 tainly to know, that another was with him; this know- 
 ledge might, and in many cases would, have one or more 
 of the effects before mentioned. It is therefore not only 
 
 • Job. xxli. 
 
Si!K, XTII.] UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. 161 
 
 reasonable, but also natural, to be affected with a pre- 
 sence, though it be not the object of our senses: whether 
 it be, or be not, is merely an accidental circumstance, 
 which needs not come hito consideration: it is the cer- 
 tainty that he is with us, and we with him, which hath 
 the influence. We consider persons then as present, 
 not only when they are within reach of our senses, but 
 also when we are assured by any other means that they 
 are within such a nearness; nay, if they are not, we can 
 recall them to our mind, and be moved towards them as 
 present: and must He, who is so much more intimately 
 with us, that in him we live and move and have our being, 
 be thought too distant to be the object of our affections ? 
 We own and feel the force of amiable and worthy qua- 
 lities in our fellow creatures: and can we be insensible 
 to the contemplation of perfect goodness ? Do we reve- 
 rence the shadows of greatness here below, are we soli- 
 citous about honour and esteem and the opinion of the 
 world : and shall we not feel the same with respect to 
 liim, whose are wisdom and power in their original, who 
 is the God of judgment by whom actions are weighed? 
 Thus love, reverence, desire of esteem, every faculty, 
 every affection, tends towards, and is employed about its 
 respective object in common cases : and must the exer- 
 cise of them be suspended with regard to him alone, 
 who is an object, an infinitely more than adequate object, 
 to our most exalted faculties; him, of whom, and through, 
 whom, and to whom are all things ? 
 
 As we cannot remove from this earth, or change our 
 general business on it, so neither can we alter our real . 
 nature. Therefore no exercise of the mind can be re- ', 
 commended, but only the exercise of those faculties you I 
 are conscious of. Religion does not demand new affec- r 
 tions, but only claims the direction of those you already 
 have, those affections you daily feel; though unhappily 
 confined to objects, not altogether unsuitable, but alto- 
 gether unequal to them. We only represent to you the 
 higher, the adequate objects of those very faculties and . 
 affections. Let the man of ambition go on still to con- i 
 sider disgrace as the greatest evil; honour, as his chie^ 
 good. But disgrace, in whose estimation? Honour, lo 
 
162 UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. (Sra. XIIl 
 
 whose judgment ? This is the only question. If .shame 
 and delight in esteem, be spoken of as real, as any set- 
 tled ground of pain or pleasure ; both these must be irx 
 proportion to the supposed wisdom and worth of him, 
 by whom we are contemned or esteemed. Must it then 
 be thought enthusiastical to speak of a sensibility of this 
 sort, which shall have respect to an unerring judgnent, 
 to infinite wisdom; when we are assured this unerring 
 judgment, this infinite wisdom, does observe upon our 
 actions ? 
 
 It is the same with respect to the love of God in the 
 strictest and most confined sense. We only offer and 
 represent the highest object of an affection, supposed 
 already in your mind. Some degree of goodness must 
 be previously supposed: this always implies the love of 
 itself, an affection to goodness: the highest, the adequate 
 object of this affection, is perfect goodness; which there- 
 fore we are to love with all our heart, vnth all our soul, 
 and with all our strength. "Must we, then, forgetting 
 our own interest, as it were go out of ourselves, and 
 love God for his own sake ?" No more forget your 
 own interest, no more go out of yourselves, than whea 
 you prefer one place, one prospect, the conversation of 
 one man to that of another. Does not every affection 
 necessarily imply, that the object of it be itself loved? 
 If it be not, it is not the object of the affection. You 
 may and ought if you can, but it is a great mistake to 
 think you can love or fear or hate any thing, from con- 
 sideration that such love or fear or hatred may be a 
 means of obtaining good or avoiding evil. But the ques- 
 tion, whether we ought to love God for his sake or for 
 our own, being a mere mistake in language; the real 
 question, which this is mistaken for, will, I suppose,, 
 be answered by observing, that the goodness of God 
 already exercised towards us, our present dependence 
 upon him, and our expectation of future benefits, ought, 
 and have a natural tendency, to beget in us the affection 
 of gratitude, and greater love towards him, than the same 
 goodness exercised towards others: were it only for this 
 reason, that every affection is moved in proportion to 
 the sense we have of the object of it; and we cannot but 
 
Skk. XIV] X3PON THE LOVE OF GOD. 163 
 
 have a move lively sense of goodness, when exercised 
 towards ourselves, than when exercised towards others. 
 [ added expectation of future benefits, because the ground 
 ')i' that expectation is present goodness. 
 
 •Thus Almighty God is the natural object of the seve- 
 ral affections, love, reverence, fear, desire of approbation. 
 Kor though he is simply one, yet we cannot but consider 
 him in partial and different views. He is in himself one 
 uniform being, and for ever the same without variubte- 
 ness or shadow of turning: but his infinite greatness, his 
 goodness, his wisdom, are different objects to our mind. 
 To which is to be added, that from the changes in our 
 characters, together with his unchangeableness, we can - 
 not but consider ourselves as more or less the objects of 
 bis approbat on, and really be so. For if he approves 
 what is good, he cannot, merely from the unchangeable- 
 ness of his nature, approve what is evil. Hence must 
 arise more various movements of mind, more different 
 kinds of affections. And this greater variety also is just 
 and reasonable in such creatures as we are, though it 
 respects a Being simply one, good and perfect. As some 
 of these affections are most particularly suitable to so 
 imperfect a creature as man, in this mortal state we are 
 passing through; so there may be other exercises of 
 mind, or some of these in higher degrees, our employ- 
 ment and happiness in a state of perfection. 
 
 SERMON XIV 
 
 Consider then our ignorance, the imperfection of our 
 nature, our virtue and our condition in this world, with 
 respect to an infinitely good and just Being, our Creator 
 and Governor; and you will see what religious affections 
 of mind are most particularly suitable to this mortal state 
 we are passing through. 
 
 Though we are not affected with any thing so strongly, 
 as what we discern with our senses; and though our 
 nature and condition require, that we be much taken up> 
 about sensible thin<Ts; vet our reason convinces us that 
 
164 UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. [Szb. XIV. 
 
 God is present with us, and we see and feel the effects 
 of his goodness: he is therefore the object of some 
 regards. The imperfection of our virtue, joined with the 
 consideration of his absolute rectitude or hoHness, will 
 scarce permit that perfection of love, which entirely casts 
 out all fear: yet goodness is the object of love to all 
 creatures who have any degree of it themselves; and 
 consciousness of a real endeavour to approve ourselves 
 to him, joined with the consideration of his goodness, as 
 it quite excludes servile dread and horror, so it is plainly 
 a reasonable ground for hope of his favour. Neither 
 fear, nor hope, nor love then are excluded : and one or 
 another of these will prevail, according to the dift'erent 
 views we have of God; and ought to prevail, according 
 to the changes we find in our own character. There is 
 a temper of mind made up of, or which follows from all 
 three, fear, hope, love; namely, resignation to the divine 
 will, which is the general temper belonging to this state ; 
 which ought to be the habitual frame of our mipd and 
 heart, and to be exercised at proper seasons more dis- 
 tinctly, in acts of devotion. 
 
 Resignation to the will of God is the whole of piety : 
 it includes in it all that is good, and is a source of the 
 most settled quiet and composure of mind. There is 
 the general principle of submission in our nature. Man 
 is not so constituted as to desire things, and be uneasy 
 in the want of them, in proportion to their known value : 
 many other considerations come in to determine the 
 degrees of desire ; particularly whether the advantage we 
 take a view of be within the sphere of our rank. Who 
 ever felt uneasiness, upon observing any of the advan- 
 tages brute creatures have over us ? And yet it is plain 
 they have several. It is the same with respect to advan- 
 tages belonging to creatures of a superior order. Thus, 
 though we see a thing to be highly valuable, yet that it 
 does not belong to our condition of being, is sufficient to 
 suspend our desires after it, to make us rest satisfied 
 without such advantage. Now there is just the same 
 reason for quiet resignation in the want of every thing 
 equally unattainable, and out of our reach in' particular, 
 •though others of our species be possessed of it. All this 
 
«EB. XIV.J UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. 165 
 
 may be applied to the whole of life; to positive incon- 
 veniences as well as wants ; not indeed to the sensations of 
 pain and sorrow, but to all the uneasinesses of reflection^ 
 murmuring, and discontent. Thus is human nature 
 formed to compliance, yielding, submission of temper. 
 We find the principles of it within us ; and every one 
 exercises it towards some objects or other; i.e. feels it 
 with regard to some persons, and some circumstances. 
 Now this is, an excellent foundation of a reasonable and 
 religious resignation. Nature teaches and inclines us to 
 take up with our lot: the consideration, that the course 
 of things is unalterable, hath a tendency to quiet the mind 
 under it, to beget a submission of temper to it. But 
 when we can add, that this unalterable course is appointed 
 and continued by infinite wisdom and goodness; how 
 absplute should be our submission, how entire our trust 
 and dependence! 
 
 This would reconcile us to our dondition; prevent aS 
 the supernumerary troubles arising from imagination, 
 distant fears, impatience; all uneasiness, except that 
 which necessarily arises from the calamities themselves 
 we may be under. How many of our cares should we 
 by this means be disburdened of! Cares not properly 
 our own, how apt soever they may be to intrude upon 
 us, and we to admit them ; the anxieties of expectation, 
 solicitude about success and disappointment, which in 
 truth are none of our concern. How open to every 
 gratification would that mind be, which was clear of these 
 encumbrances! 
 
 Our resignation to the will of God may be said to be 
 perfect, when our will is lost and resolved up into his ; 
 when we rest in his will as our end, as being itself most 
 just, and right, and good. And where is the impossibility 
 of such an affection to what is just, and right, and good, 
 such a loyalty of heart to the Governor of the universe, 
 as shall prevail over all sinister indirect desires of our 
 own.P Neither is this at bottom any thing more than 
 faith, and honesty, and fairness of mind; in a more en- 
 larged sense indeed, than those words are commonly 
 used. And as in common cases, fear and hope and 
 other passions are raised in us by their respective 
 
166 UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. [Sek. XIV 
 
 objects: so this submission of heart and soul and mind, 
 this religious resignation, would be as naturally produced 
 by our having just conceptions of Almighty God,'and a 
 real sense of his presence with us. In how low a degree 
 soever this temper usually prevails amongst men, yet it is 
 a temper right in itself: it is what we owe to our Creator: 
 it is particularly suitable to our mortal condition, and 
 what we should endeavour after for our own sakes in 
 our passage through such a world as this; where is 
 nothing upon which we can rest or depend; nothing but 
 what we are liable to be deceived and disappointed in. 
 Thus we might acquaint ourselves with God, and be at 
 peace. This is piety and religion in the strictest sense, 
 considered as an habit of mind; an habitual sense of 
 God's presence with us; being affected towards him, as 
 present, in the manner his superior nature requires from 
 such a creature as man : this is to walk with God. 
 
 Little more need be said of devotion or religious wor- 
 ship, than that it is this temper exerted into act. The 
 nature of it consists in the actual exercise of those affec- 
 tions towards God, which are supposed habitual in good 
 men. He is always equally present with us: but we are 
 so much taken up with sensible things, that Lo, he goeth 
 by us, and we see him not : he passeth on also, but we per- 
 ceive him not.* Devotion is retirement, from the world 
 he has made, to him alone : it is to withdraw from the 
 avocations of sense, to employ our attention wholly upon 
 him as upon an object actually present, to yield ourselves 
 up to the influence of the divine presence, and to give 
 full scope to the affections of gratitude, love, reverence, 
 trust, and dependence; of which infinite power, wisdom, 
 and goodness, is the natural and only adequate object. 
 We may apply to the whole of devotion those words of 
 the son of Sirach, When you glorify the Lord, exalt him 
 as much as you can; for even yet will he far exceed; and 
 when you exalt him, put forth all your strength, and be 
 not weary; for you can never go far enough.f Our most 
 raised affections of every kind cannot but fall short and 
 be disproportionate, when an infinite Being is the object 
 of them. This is the highest exercise and employment of 
 
 * Job ix. 11. ■}■ Eccliis. xliii. 30. 
 
Se«. XIV.l UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. 1G7 
 
 mind that a creature is capable of. As this divine service 
 and worship is itself absolutely due to God, so also is it 
 necessary in order to a further end, to keep alive upon 
 our minds a sense of his authority, a sense that in our 
 ordinary behaviour amongst men we act under him as 
 our governor and judge. 
 
 Thus you see the temper of mind respecting God, 
 which is particularly suitable to a state of imperfection; 
 to creatures in a progress of being towards somewhat 
 further. 
 
 Suppose now this something further attained; that we 
 were arrived at it: what a perception will it be, to see 
 and know and feel that our trust was not vain, our de- 
 ipendence not groundless .f* that the issue, event, and 
 consummation 'came out such as fully to justify and 
 answer that resignation .P If the obscure view of the 
 divine perfection, which we have in this world, ought in 
 just consequence to beget an entire resignation; what 
 will this resignation be exalted into,, when we shall see 
 face to face, and know as we are known? If Ave cannot 
 form any distinct notion of that perfection of the love of 
 God, which casts out all fear ; of that enjoyment of him, 
 which will be the happiness of good men hereafter; the 
 -consideration of our wants and capacities of happiness, 
 and that he will be an adequate supply to them, must 
 serve us instead of such distinct conception of the parti- 
 cular happiness itself. 
 
 Let us then suppose a man entirely disengaged from 
 business and pleasure, sitting down alone and at leisure, 
 to reflect upon himself and his own condition of being. 
 He would immediately feel that he was by no means 
 complete of himself, but totally insufficient for his own 
 happiness. One may venture to affirm, that every man 
 hath felt this, whether he hath again reflected upon it or 
 not. It is feeling this deficiency, that they are unsatis- 
 fied with themselves, which makes men look out for 
 assistance from abroad; and which has given rise to 
 various kinds of amusements, altogether needless any 
 otherwise than as they serve to fill up the blank spaces 
 of time, and so hinder their feeling this deficiency, and 
 being uneasy with themselves. Now, if these external 
 
168 UPON THE LOVfi OF GOD. [Seb. XIV. 
 
 things we take up with were really an adequate supply- 
 to this deficiency of human nature, if by their means our 
 capacities and desires were all satisfied and filled up ; 
 then it might be truly said, that we had found out the 
 proper happiness of man; and so might sit down satisfied, 
 and be at rest in the enjoyment of it. But if it 
 appears, that the amusements, which men usually pass 
 their time in, are so far from coming up to or answering 
 our notions and desires of happiness, or good, that they 
 are really no more than what they are commonly called, 
 somewhat to pass away the time ; i. e. somewhat wl^ich 
 serves to turn us aside from, and prevent our attending to, 
 this our internal poverty and want ; if they serve only, 
 or chiefly, to suspend, instead of satisfying our concep- 
 tions and desires of happiness ; if the want remains, and 
 we have found out little more than barely the means of 
 making it less sensible; then are we still to seek for 
 somewhat to be an adequate supply to it. It is plain 
 that there is a capacity in the nature of man, which 
 neither riches, nor honours, nor sensual gratifications, 
 nor any thing in this world can perfectly fill up, or satisfy ; 
 there is a deeper and more essential want, than any 
 of these things can be the supply of. Yet surely there 
 is a possibility of somewhat, which may fill up all our 
 capacities of happiness ; somewhat, in which our souls 
 may find rest; somewhat, which may be to us that 
 satisfactory good we are inquiring after. But it cannot 
 be any thing which is valuable only as it tends to some 
 further end. Those therefore who have got this world sc 
 much into their hearts, as not to be able to consider hap- 
 piness as consisting in any thing but property and pos- 
 sessions, which are only valuable as the means to some- 
 what else, cannot have the least glimpse of the subject 
 before us ; which is the end, not the means ; the thing 
 itself, not somewhat in order to it. But if you can lay 
 aside that general, confused, undeterminate notion of" 
 happiness, as consisting in such possessions ; and fix in 
 your thoughts, that it really can consist in nothing but in 
 a faculty's having its proper object ; you will clearly see, 
 that in the coolest way of consideration, without either 
 the heat of fanciful enthusiasm, or the warmth of real 
 
SIUI.X1V.] UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. l69 
 
 devotion, nothing is more certain, than that an infinite 
 Being may himself be, if he pleases, the supply to all the 
 capacities of our nature. All the common enjoyments 
 of life are from the faculties he hath endued us with, and 
 the objects he hath made suitable to them. He may 
 himself be to us infinitely more than all these : he may 
 be to us all that we want. As our understanding can 
 contemplate itself, and our affections be exercised upon 
 themselves by reflection, so may each be ^employed in 
 the same manner upon any other mind : and since the 
 supreme Mind, the Author and Cause of all things, is 
 the highest possible object to himself, he may. be an 
 adequate supply to all the faculties of our souls ; a sub- 
 ject to our understanding, and an object to our affections. 
 
 Consider then : when we shall have put off this mor- 
 tal body, when we shall be divested of sensuarl appetites, 
 and those possessions which are now the means of grati- 
 fication shall be of no avail; when this restless scene of 
 business and vain pleasures, which now diverts us from 
 ourselves, shall be all over ; we, our proper self, shall 
 still remain : we shall still continue the same creatures 
 we are, with wants to be supplied, and capacities of 
 happiness. We must have faculties of perception, 
 though not sensitive ones ; and pleasure or uneasiness 
 from our perceptions, as now we have. 
 
 There are certain ideas, which we express by the 
 words, order, harmony, proportion, beauty, the furthest 
 removed from any thing sensual. Now what is there in 
 those intellectual images, forms, or ideas, which begets 
 that approbation, love, delight, and even rapture, which 
 is seen in some persons' faces upon having those objects 
 present to their minds P — " Mere enthusiasm !" — Be it 
 what it will : there are objects, works of nature and of 
 art, which all mankind have delight from, quite distinct 
 from their affording gratification to sensual appetites; and 
 from quite another view of them, than as being for their 
 interest and further advantage. The faculties from which 
 we are capable of these pleasures, and the pleasures 
 themselves, are as natural, and as much to be accounted 
 for, as any sensual appetite whatever, and the pleasure 
 from its gratification. Words to be sure are wanting upon 
 
170 UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. [Sm.XIV. 
 
 this subject: to say, that every thing of grace and beauty, 
 throughout the whole of nature, every thing excellent 
 and amiable shared in differently lower degrees by the 
 whole creation, meet in the Author and Cause of all 
 things; this is an inadequate, and perhaps improper way 
 of speaking of the divine nature : but it is manifest that 
 absolute rectitude, the perfection of being, must be in all 
 senses, and in every respect, the highest object to the 
 mind. 
 
 In this world it is only the effects of wisdom, and power, 
 and greatness, which we discern : it is not impossible, that 
 hereafter the qualities themselves in the supreme Being 
 may be the immediate object of contemplation. What 
 amazing wonders are opened to view by late improve- 
 ments ! What an object is the universe to a creature, if 
 there be a creature who can comprehend its system ! But it 
 must be an infinitely higher .exercise of the understanding, 
 to view the scheme of it in that mind, which projected it, 
 before its foundations were laid. And surely we have 
 meaning to the words, when we speak of going further; 
 and viewing, not only this system in his mind, but the 
 wisdom and intelligence itself from whence it proceeded. 
 The same may be said of power. But since wisdom and 
 power are not God, he is a wise, a powerful Being; the 
 divine nature may therefore be a further object to the 
 understanding. It is nothing to observe that our senses 
 give us but an imperfect knowledge of things : effects 
 themselves, if we knew them thoroughly, would give us 
 but imperfect notions of wisdom and power ; much less 
 of his Being, in whom they reside. I am not speaking 
 of any fanciful notion of seeing all things in God ; but 
 only representing to you, how much an higher object to 
 the understanding an infinite Being himself is, than the 
 things which he has made : and this is no more than 
 saying, that the Creator is superior to the works of his 
 hands. 
 
 This may be illustrated by a low example. Suppose 
 a machine, the sight of which would raise, and discoveries 
 in its contrivance gratify, our curiosity: the real delight, 
 in this case, would arise from its being the effect of skill 
 and contrivance. This skill in the mind of the artificer 
 
Ser. XIV.] UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. 171 
 
 would be an higher object, if we had any senses or ways 
 to discern it. For, observe, the contemplation of that 
 principle, faculty, or power which produced any effect, 
 must be an higher exercise of the understanding, than 
 the contemplation of the effect itself. The cause must 
 be an higher object to the mind than the effect. 
 
 But whoever considers distinctly what the light of 
 knowledge is, will see reason to be satisfied that it can- 
 not be the chief good of man: all this, as it is applicable, 
 so it was mentioned with regard to the attribute of good- 
 ness. I say, goodness. Our being and all our enjoy- 
 ments are the effects of it: just men bear its resemblance: 
 but how little do we know of the original, of what it is in 
 itself? Recall what was before observed concerning the 
 affection to moral characters ; which, in how low a degree 
 soever, yet is plainly natural to man, and the most 
 ■excellent part of his nature : suppose this improved, as it 
 may be improved, to any degree whatever, in the spirits 
 of just men made perfect; and then suppose that they had 
 a real view of that righteousness, which is an everlasting 
 righteousness; of the conformity of the divine will to the 
 law of truth, in which the moral attributes of God pon- 
 sist; of that goodness in the sovereign Mind, which gave 
 birth to the universe: add, what will be true of all good 
 men hereafter, a consciousness of having an interest in 
 what they are contemplating; suppose them able to say, 
 This God is our God for ever and ever : would they be 
 any longer to seek for what was their chief happiness, 
 their final good.P Could the utmost stretch of their 
 capacities look further.^ Would not infinite perfect 
 goodness be their very end, the last end and object of 
 their affections; beyond which they could neither have, 
 nor desire ; beyond which they could not form a wish or 
 thought .P 
 
 Consider wherein that presence of a friend consists, 
 which has often so strong an effect, as wholly to possess 
 the mind, and entirely suspend all other affections and 
 regards ; and which itself affords the highest satisfaction 
 and enjoyment. He is within reach of the senses. Now, 
 as our capacities of perception improve, we shall have, 
 perhaps by some faculty entirely new, a perception of 
 
172 UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. [Seb. XIV, 
 
 Gods presence with us in a nearer and stricter way ; 
 since it is certain he is more intimately present with us 
 than any thing else can be. Proof of the existence and 
 presence of any being is quite different from the immediate 
 perception, the consciousness of it. What then will be 
 the jo^ of heart, which his presence, and the light of Ms 
 countenance, who is the life of the universe, will inspire 
 good men with, when they shall have a sensation, that 
 he is the sustainer of their being, that they exist in him; 
 when they shall feel his influence to cheer and enliven 
 and support their frame, in a manner of which we have 
 now no conception .P He will be in a literal sense their 
 strength and their portion for ever. 
 
 W hen we speak of things so much above our compre- 
 hension, as the employment and happiness of- a future 
 state, doubtless it behoves us to speak with all modesty 
 and distrust of ourselves. But the Scripture represents 
 the happiness of that state under the notions of seeing 
 God, seeing Mm as he is, knowing as ice are known, and 
 seeing face to face. These words are not general or 
 utidetermined, but express a particular determinate 
 happiness. And I will be bold to say, that nothing can 
 account for, or come up to these expressions, but only 
 this, that God himself will be an object to our faculties, 
 that he himself will be our happiness ; as distinguished 
 from the enjoyments of the present state, which seem to 
 arise, not immediately from him, but from the objects he 
 has adapted to give us delight. 
 
 To conclude: Let us suppose a person tired with care 
 and sorrow and the repetition of vain delights which till 
 up the round of life ; sensible that every thing here below 
 in its best estate is altogether vanity. Suppose him lo 
 feel that deficiency of human nature, before taken notice 
 of; and to be convinced that God alone was the adequate 
 supply to it. What could be more applicable to a good 
 man in this state of mind; or better express his present 
 wants and distant hopes, his passage through this world 
 as a progress towards a state of perfection, than the 
 following passages in the devotions of the royal prophet? 
 They are plainly in an higher and more proper sense 
 applicable to this, than they could be to any thing else^ 
 
Skb. XV.] UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN. 173 
 
 / have seen an end of all perfection. Whom have I in 
 heaven but thee? And there is none upon earth that I 
 desire in comparison of thee. Mt/ flesh and my heart failcth : 
 but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for 
 ever. Like as the hart desireth the toaler-hrooks, so longeth 
 my soul after thee, God. My soul is athirst for God, 
 yea, even for the living God: when shall I come to appear 
 before him? How excellent is thy loving -kindness, God! 
 and the children of men shall put their trust under the 
 shadow of thy wings. They shall be .satisfied with the 
 plenteousness of thy house : and thou shall give them drink 
 of thy pleasures, as out of the river. For with thee is the 
 well of life : and in thy light shall we see light. Blessed 
 is the man whom thou choosest, arid receivest unto thee: he 
 shall dwell in thy court, and shall be satisfied with the 
 pleasures of thy house, even of thy holy temple. Blessed 
 is the people, O Lord, that can rejoice in thee: they shall 
 walk in the light of thy countenance. Their delight shall 
 be daily in thy name, and in thy righteousness shall they 
 make their boast. For thou art the glory of their strength: 
 and in thy loving-kindness they shall be exalted. As for 
 me, I will behold thy presence in righteousness: and when 
 I awake up after thy likeness, I shall be satisfied with it. 
 Thou shall shew me the path of life ; in thy presence is t/ie 
 fulness of joy, and at thy right hand there is pleasure for 
 evermore. 
 
 SERMON XV. 
 
 UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN. 
 
 When I applied mine heart to know wisdom, and to sec the business 
 that is done upon the earth : then I beheld all the work of God, that 
 a man cannot Jind out the work that is done under the sun: because 
 thouffh a man labour to seek it out, yet lie shall not Jind it; yea 
 further, though a toise man think to know it, yet shall he not be 
 able to find it. — Eccles. viii. 16, 17. 
 
 The writings of Solomon are very much talten up with 
 reflections upon human nature and human life ; to which 
 he hath added, in this book, reflections upon the consti- 
 
174 UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN. [Seb. XV^ 
 
 tution of things. And it is not improbable, that the 
 little satisfaction and the great difficulties he met with in 
 his researches into the general constitution of nature, 
 might be the occasion of his confining biffiself, so much 
 as he hath done, to life and conduct. However, upon 
 that joint review he expresses great ignorance of the 
 works of God, and the method of his providence in the 
 government of the world; great labour and weariness in 
 the search and observation he had employed himself 
 about; and great disappointment, pain, and even vexation 
 of mind, upon that which he had remarked of the appear- 
 ances of things, and of what was going forward upon this, 
 earth. This whole review and inspection, and the result 
 of it, sorrow, perplexity, a sense of his necessary ignor- 
 ance, suggests various reflections to his mind. But, not- 
 withstanding all this ignorance and dissatisfaction, there 
 is somewhat upon which he assuredly rests and depends ; 
 somewhat, which is the conclusion of the whole matter, 
 and the only concern of man. Following this his method 
 and train of reflection, let us consider, 
 
 I. The assertion of the text, the ignorance of man; that 
 the wisest and most knowing cannot comprehend the 
 ways and works of God: and then, 
 
 II. What are the just consequences of this observa- 
 tion and knowledge of our own ignorance, and the re- 
 flections which it leads us to. 
 
 I. The wisest and most knowing cannot comprehend 
 the works of God, the methods and designs of his provi- 
 dence in the creation and government of the world. 
 
 Creation is absolutely and entirely out of our depth, 
 and beyond the extent of our utmost reach. And yet it 
 is as certain that God made the world, as it is certain 
 that eflfects must have a cause. It is indeed in general 
 no more than effects, that the most knowing are 
 acquainted \trith: for as to causes, they are as entirely 
 in the dark as the mo^t ignorant. What are the laws 
 by which matter acts upon matter, but certain effects; 
 which some, having observed to be frequently repeated,, 
 have reduced to general rules? The real nature and 
 essence of beings likewise is what we are altogether 
 ignorant of. All these things are so entirely out of oui 
 
Sou XV.] UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN. 175 
 
 reach, that we have not the' least glimpse of them. And 
 ■we know little more of ourselves, than we do of the 
 world about us: how we were made, how our bein^ is 
 continued and preserved, what the faculties of our minds 
 are, and upon what thepowcr of exercising them depends. 
 / am fearfully and wonderfully made : marvellous are thy 
 Viorku, and that my soul knoweth right well. Our own 
 nature, and the objects we are surrounded with, serve to 
 raise our curiosity ; but we are quite out of a condition oi 
 satisfying it. Every secret which is disclosed, every 
 discovery which is made, every neweflfect which is brought 
 to view, serves to convince us of numb<^rless more which 
 remain concealed, and which we had before no suspicion 
 of. And what if we were acquainted with the whole 
 creation, in the same way and as thoroughly as we are 
 with any single object in itP What would all this natural 
 knowledge amount to ? It must be a low curiosity 
 indeed which such superficial knowledge could satisfy. 
 On the contrary, would it not serve to convince us of our 
 ignorance still; and to raise our desire of knowing the 
 nature of things themselves, the author, the cause, and 
 the end of them ? 
 
 As to the government of the world: though from 
 consideration of the final causes which come within our 
 knowledge; of characters, personal merit and demerit; 
 of the favour and disapprobation, which respectively are 
 due and belong to the righteous and the wicked, and 
 which therefore must necessarily be in a mind which sees 
 things as they really are; though, I say, from hence we 
 may know somewhat concerning the designs of Providence 
 in the government of the world, enougn to enforce upon 
 us religion and the practice of virtue : yet, since the 
 monarchy of the universe is a dominion unlimited in, 
 extent, and everlasting in duration ; the general system 
 of it must necessarily be quite beyond our comprehension. 
 And, since there appears such a subordination and 
 reference of the several parts, to each other, as to 
 constitute it properly one administration or government ; 
 we cannot have a thorough knowledge of any part, 
 without knowing the whole. This surely should convince 
 us. that we are much less competent judges of the very 
 
176 UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN. [Skb. XV. 
 
 small part which comes under our notice in this world, 
 than we are apt to imagine. No heart can think upon 
 these things worthily: and who is able to conceive his way ? 
 It is a tempest which no man can see : for the most part of 
 his woi^ks are hid. Who can declare the icorks of his 
 justice ? for his covenant is afar off, and the trial of all 
 things is in the end: i. e. The dealings of God with the 
 children of men are not yet completed, and cannot be 
 judged of by that part which is before us. So that a man 
 cannot say, This is worse than that : for in time they shall 
 be -well approved. Thy faithfulness, O Lord, reachethunto 
 the clouds : thy righteousness standeth like the strong 
 mountains ; thy judgments are like the great deep. He hath 
 Tnade every thing beautiful in his time : also he hath set the 
 world in tlieir heart; so that no man can find out the work 
 that God makethfrom the beginning to the end. And thus 
 St Paul concludes a long argument upon the various 
 dispensations of Providence : the depth of the riches,^ 
 both of the wisdom and knowledge of God ! How unsearch- 
 able are his judgments, and his ways past finding out I For 
 who hath known the mind of the Lord? 
 
 Thus the scheme of Providence, the ways and works 
 of God, are too vast, of too large extent for our capacities. 
 There is, as I may speak, such an expense of power, 
 and wisdom, and goodness, in the formation and 
 government of the world, as is too much for us to take 
 in, or comprehend. Power, and wisdom, and goodness, 
 are manifest to us in all those works of God, which come 
 within our view: but there are likewise infinite stores of 
 each poured forth throughout the immensity of the 
 creation ; no part of which can be thoroughly understood, 
 without taking in its reference and respect to the whole: 
 and this is what we have not faculties for. 
 
 And as the works of God, and his scheme of govern- 
 ment, are above our capacities thoroughly to comprehend: 
 so there possibly may be reasons which originally made 
 it fit that many things should be concealed from us, which 
 we have perhaps natural capacities of understanding; 
 many things concerning the designs, methods, and ends 
 of divine Providence in the government of the world. 
 There is no manner of absurdity in supposing a veil oa 
 
TSeb. XV.] UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN. 177 
 
 purpose drawn over some scenes of infinite power, 
 wisdom, and goodness, the sight of which might some 
 way or other strike us too strongly ; or that better ends 
 are designed and served by their being concealed, than 
 could be by their being exposed to our knowledge. The 
 Almighty may cast clouds and darkness round about him, 
 for reasons and purposes of which we have not the least 
 glimpse or conception. 
 
 However, it is surely reasonable, and what might have 
 heen expected, that creatures in some stage of their being, 
 suppose in the infancy of it, shonld be placed in a state 
 of disciphne and improvement, where their patience and 
 submission is to be tried by afflictions, where temptations 
 are to be resisted, and difficulties gone through in the 
 discharge of their duty. Now if the greatest pleasures 
 and pains of the present life may be overcome and 
 •suspended, as they manifestly may, by hope and fear, 
 ■and other passions and affections; then the evidence of 
 religion, and the sense of the consequences of virtue and 
 ' vice, might have been such, as entirely in all cases to 
 prevail over those afflictions, difficulties, and temptations; 
 prevail over them so, as to render them absolutely none 
 at all. But the very notion itself now mentioned, of a 
 state of discipline and improvement, necessarily excludes 
 «uch sensible evidence and conviction of religion, and of 
 the consequences of virtue and vice. Religion consists 
 in submission and resignation to the divine will. Our 
 condition in this world is a school of exercise for this 
 temper: and our ignorance, the shallowness of our reason, 
 the temptations, difficulties, afflictions, which we are 
 exposed to, all equally contribute to make it so. The 
 general observation may be carried on; and whoever will 
 ^tend to the thing will plainly see, that less sensible 
 evidence, with less difficulty in practice, is the same, as 
 more sensible evidence, with greater difficulty in practice. 
 Therefore difficulties in speculation as much come into 
 the notion of a state of discipline, as difficulties in practice: 
 and so the same re ason or account is to be given of both. 
 Thus, though it is indeed absurd to talk of the greater 
 merit of assent, upofi Httle or no evidence, than upon 
 demonstration ; yet the strict discharge of our duty, with 
 
178 UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN [Sra. XT- 
 
 I 
 
 less sensible evidence, does imply in it a better character^ 
 than the same diligence in the discharge of it upon more 
 sensible evidence. This fully accounts for and explains^ 
 that assertion of our Saviour, B/ested are they that have- 
 not seen, and yet have believed;* have become Christians 
 and obeyed the gospel upon less sensible evidence than ' 
 that which Thomas, to whom he is speaking, insisted 
 upon. 
 
 But after* all, the same account is to be given, why we 
 were placed in these circumstances of ignorance, as why 
 nature has not furnished us with wings; namely, that we 
 were designed to be inhabitants of this earth. I am 
 afraid we think too highly of ourselves; of our rank in 
 the creation, and of what is due to us. What sphere of 
 action, what business is assigned to man, that he has not 
 capacities and knowledge fully equal to .P It is manifest 
 he has reason, and knowledge, and faculties superior to 
 the business of the present world: faculties which appear 
 superfluous, if we do not take in the respect which they 
 have to somewhat further, and beyond it. If to acquire 
 knowledge were our proper end, we should indeed be- 
 but poorly provided: but if somewhat else be our busi- 
 ness and duty, we may, notwithstanding our ignorance, 
 be well enough furnished for it; and the observation of 
 our ignorance may be of assistance to us in the dis- 
 charge of it. 
 
 II. Let us then consider, what are the consequences 
 of this knowledge and observation of our own ignorance, 
 and the reflection it leads us to. \ 
 
 First, We may learn from it, with what temper of 
 mind a man ought to inquire into the subject of religion ;. 
 namely, with expectation of finding difficulties, and with 
 a disposition to take up and rest satisfied with any evi- 
 dence whatever, which is real. 
 
 . He should beforehand expect things mysterious, and 
 such as he will not be able thoroughly to comprehend, 
 or go to the bottom of. To expect a distinct compre- 
 hensive view of the whole subject, clear of difficulties 
 and objections* is to forget our nature and condition ;, 
 neither of which admit of such knowledge, with respect 
 
 * John XX. 29. 
 
Ser. XV.] UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN. 179 
 
 to any science -whatever. And to inquire with this 
 expectation, is not tb inquire as a man, but as one of 
 another order of creatures. 
 
 Due sense of the general ignorance of man would also 
 beget in us a disposition to take up and rest satisfied 
 with any evidence whatever, which is real. I iTKntion 
 uiis as the contrary to a disposition, of which there are 
 not wanting instances, to find fault with and reject evi- 
 dence, because it is not such as was desired. If a man 
 were to walk by twilight, must he not follow his eyes as 
 much as if it were broad day and clear sunshine .^ Or 
 if he were obliged to take a journey by night, would he 
 not give heed to any light shining in the darkness, till the 
 day should break and the day-star arise ? , It would not 
 be altogether unnatural for him to reflect how much 
 better it were to have daylight; he might perhaps have 
 great curiosity to see the country round about him ; he 
 might lament that the darkness concealed many extended 
 prospects from his eyes, and wish for the sun to draw 
 away the veil: but how ridiculous would it be tO'Veject 
 with scorn and disdain the guidance and direction which 
 that lesser light might afford him, because it was net the 
 sun itself! If the make and constitution of man, the 
 circumstances he is placed in, or the reason of things 
 aff"ords the least hint or intimation, that virtue is the law 
 he is born under; scepticism itself should lead him to 
 the most strict and inviolable practice of it; that he may 
 not make the dreadful experiment, of leaving the course 
 of life marked out for him by nature, whatever that 
 nature be, and entering paths of his own, of which he 
 can know neither the dangers, nor the end. For though 
 no danger be seen, yet darkness, ignorance, and blind- 
 ness are no manner of security. 
 
 Secondly, Our ignorance is the proper answer to many 
 things, which are called objections against religion ; par-* 
 ticularly, to those which arise from the appearances of 
 evil and irregularity in the constitution of nature and the 
 government of the world. In all other cases it is thought 
 necessary to be thoroughly acquainted with the whole of 
 a scheme, even one of so narrow a compass as those 
 which are formed by men, in order to judge of thegood- 
 
 JW 2 
 
180 UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN. [Sra. XV. 
 
 ness or badness of it: and the most slight and superficial 
 view of any human contrivance comes abundantly nearer 
 to a thorough knowledge of it, than that part, which we 
 know of the government of the world, does to the general 
 scheme and system of it; to the whole set of laws by 
 which it is governed. From our ignorance of the con- 
 stitution of things, and the scheme of Providence in the 
 government of the world ; from the reference the several 
 parts have to each other, and to the whole; and from 
 our not being able to see the end and the whole; it 
 follows, that however perfect things are, they must even 
 necessarily appear to us otherwise less perfect than they 
 are.* 
 
 Thirdly, Since the constitution of nature, and the 
 methods and designs of Providence in the government of 
 the world, are above our comprehension, we should 
 acquiesce in, and rest satisfied with, our ignorance, turn 
 our thoughts from that which is above and beyond us, 
 and apply ourselves to that which is level to our capa- 
 cities, and which is our real business and concern. 
 Knowledge is not our proper happiness. Whoever will 
 in the least attend to the thing will see, that it is the 
 
 ♦ Suppow some very complicated piece o/wtrk, some system or constitution, formed 
 for some general end, to winch racli of tlif parts liad a reference. The perfccUoii or 
 jusUii'.-s of this work or coiistitiilion would consist in thi' n fci rnce and respect, wliich 
 tlie several parts have to the general design. This refen nee of parts lo the general 
 design may be infinitely various, both ill degree and kind. Thus one part may only 
 contribute and be snliservient to another ; tliis to a third ; and so on throuiib a long 
 series, tlie last part of whicli alone may contribute immediately and directly lo the 
 general design. Or a part may have this distant reference to the general design, 
 and may also contribute inimrdiately to it. Kor instance : if the general design or 
 end, for wliicli the conipliciiied frame of nature was bronghl into being, is happiness; 
 whatever affords present satisfaction, and likewise tends lo carry on the course of 
 tilings, liatli tills double respect to the general design. Now suppose a spectator of 
 that work or constitution was in a great measure ignorant of such various reference 
 to the general end, whatever that end be ; and that, upon a very slight and partial 
 view which he had of the work, several things appeared lo his eye disproportionate and 
 wrong; others. Just and beautiful ; what would he gather from these appearances? 
 He would immediately conclude there was a probability, if he could see the whole 
 • refi'rence of the parts appearing wrong to the geneiiil design, that this would destroy 
 ti.e appeanince of wrongnes-i and disproportion: but there is no probability, that the 
 I'efireiice would destroy the particular right appearances, though that referense 
 might show the things already appearing just, to be so likewise in a higher digree 
 or another iniinuer. There is n probability, that the right appeai'ances were intended; 
 llnre is no probability, that the wrong a|)peiii-aiic<'S were. We cannot suspect 
 irregularity and disorder to be designed. Tlie pillars of a building appear beamiful ; 
 but their being likewise its sup|)ort does not destroy that beauty: there slill remains 
 n reason to believe that the architect intended the beautiful appearance, after we 
 l:Bve found out the reference, support. It would be reasonable for a uiau of liiusuK 
 lo Uiiiik thus, upou the fii'st piece of arcliitecture he ever i>aw. 
 
Seb. XV.] UPON THE IGNOEANCE OF MAN. 181 
 
 gaining, not the having of it, which is th^; entertainment 
 of the mind. Indeed, if the proper happiness of man 
 consisted in knov,iedge considered as a possession or 
 treasure, men who are possessed of llie largest share 
 would have a very ill time of it; as they would be 
 infinitely more sensible than others of their poverty in this 
 respect. Thus he who increases knowledge would emi- 
 nently increase sorrow. Men of deep research ancj curious 
 inquiry should just be put in mind, not to mistake what 
 they are doing. If their discoveries serve the cause of 
 virtue and religion, in the way of proof, motive to prac- 
 tice, or assistance in it; or if they tend to render life less 
 unhappy, and promote its satisfactions; then they are 
 most usefully employed: but bringing things to light, 
 alone and of itself, is of no manner of use, any otherwise 
 than as entertainment or diversion. Neither is this at 
 all amiss, if it does not take up the time which should 
 be employed in better work. But it is evident that 
 there is another mark set up for us to aim at; another 
 end appointed us to direct our lives to: another end, 
 which the most knowing may fail of, and the most, 
 ignorant arrive at. The secret things belong unto the 
 Lord our God; but those things v)hich are revealed belong 
 unto us, and to our children for ever, that we may do all the 
 words of this law. Which reflection of Moses, put in 
 general terms, is, that the only knowledge, which is of 
 any avail to us, is that which teaches us our duty, or 
 assists us in the discharge of it. The economy of the 
 universe, the course of nature, almighty power exerted 
 in 'the creation and government of the world, is out of 
 our reach. What would be the consequence, if we 
 could really get an insight into these things, is very 
 uncertain; whether it would assist us in, or divert us 
 from, what we have to do in this present state. If 
 then there be a sphere of knowledge, of contempla- 
 tion and employment, level to our capacities, and of 
 the utmost importance to us; we ought surely to apply 
 ourselves with all diligence to this our proper business, 
 and esteem every thing else nothing, nothing as to us, 
 in. comparison of it. Thus Job, discoursing of natural 
 knowledge, how much it is above us, and of wisdpnv 
 
182 UPON THE ^GNORANCE OF MAN. [SsB^XV. 
 
 in genera], says, God understandeth the way thereof, 
 and he knoweih the place thereof. And nnto man he 
 said, Behold, the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom, 
 and to depart from evil is understanding. Other orders 
 of creatures may perhaps be let into the secret counsels 
 of heaven; and have the designs and methods of Provi- 
 dence, in the creation and government of the world, 
 communicated to thpm: but this does not belong to our 
 rank or condition. The fear of the Lord, and to depart 
 from evil, is the only wisdom which man should aspire 
 after, as his work and business. The same is said, and 
 with the same connexion and context, in the conclusion 
 of the book of Ecclesiastes. Our ignorance, and the 
 little we can know of other things, affords a reason why 
 we should not perplex ourselves about them; but no 
 way invalidates that which is the conclusion of the whola 
 matter, Fear God, and keep his commandments ; for this 
 is the whole concern of man. So that Socrates was not 
 the first who endeavoured to draw men off from labour- 
 ing after, and laying stress upon other knowledge, in 
 comparison of that which related to morals. Our pro- 
 vince is virtue and religion, life and manners ; the science 
 of improving the temper, and making the heart better. 
 This is the field assigned us to cultivate : how much it 
 has lain neglected is indeed astonishing. Virtue is 
 demonstrably the happiness of man : it consists in good 
 actions, proceeding from a good principle, temper, or 
 heart. Overt-acts are entirely in our power. What 
 remains is, that we learn to keep out heart; to govern 
 and regulate our passions, mind, affections : that so we 
 may be free from the impotencies of fear, envy, malice, 
 covetousness. auibition ; that we may be clear of these, 
 considered as vices seated in the heart, considered as 
 constituting a general wrong temper ; from which general 
 wrong frame of mind, all the mistaken pursuits, and far 
 the greatest part of the unhappiness of life, proceed. He, 
 who should find out one rule to assist us in this work, 
 would deserve infinitely better of mankind, than all the 
 improvers of other knowledge put together. 
 
 , Lastly, Let us adore that infinite wisdom and power 
 «nd goodness, which is above our comprehension. To 
 
rSER. XV.] UPON THE IGNORANCE OP MAN. 183 
 
 whom hath the root of wisdom 6een revealed? Or who 
 hath known her wise counsels? There is one tvise and 
 greatly to be feared; the Lord silting upon his throne. He 
 created her, and saw her, and numbered her, and poured 
 Jier out upon all his works. If it be thought a considerable 
 thing to be acquainted with a fe\%a very few, of the effects 
 of infinite power and wisdom ; the situation, bigness, and 
 revolution of some of the heavenly bodies; what senti- 
 ments should our minds be filled with concerning Him, 
 ■who appointed to each its place and measure and sphere 
 of motion, all which are kept with the most uniform 
 constancy 1 Who stretched out the heavens, and telleth the 
 number of the stars, and calleth them all by their names. 
 Who laid the foundations of the earth, who comprehendeth 
 'the dust of it in a measure, and weigheth the mountains in 
 scales, and the hills in a balance. And, when we have 
 recounted all the appearances which come within our 
 view, we must add, Lo, these are part of his ways: but 
 how little a portion is heard of him! Canst thou by 
 searching Jind out God? Canst thou find out the Almighty 
 unto perjection? It is as high as heaven; what canst thou 
 do? deeper than hell ; what canst thou know ? 
 
 The conclusion is, that in all lowliness of mind we set 
 lightly by ourselves: that we form our temper to an 
 implicit submission to the divine Majesty; beget within 
 ourselves an absolute resignation to all the methods of 
 his providence, in his dealings with the children of men: 
 that, in the deepest humility of our souls, we prostrate 
 ourselves before him, and join in that celestial song; 
 Great and marvellous are thy works, Lord God Almighty! 
 just and true are thy ways, thou King of saints! WIio 
 ^hall not fear thee, O Lord, and glorify thy name/ 
 
SIX SERMONS 
 
 PREACHED UPON 
 
 PUBLIC OCCASIONS. 
 
 SERMON I. 
 
 PREACHED BEFORE THE INCORPORATED SOCIETY FOR THE PROPAOATIOW 
 OF THE GOSPEL IN FOREIGN PARTS, AT THEIR ANNIVERSARY MEETING lit 
 THE PARISH CHURCH OF ST MARY-LE-BOW, ON FRIDAY, FEB. 16, 1738-9. 
 
 And this gospel oftlie kingdom shall be preiched in all the world, for 
 a witness unto all nations. — Matt. xxiv. 14. 
 
 The general doctrine of religion, that all things are under 
 the direction of one righteous Governor, having beea 
 established by repeated revelations in the first ages of 
 the world, was left with the bulk of mankind, to be 
 honestly preserved pure and entire, or carelessly for- 
 gotten, or wilfully corrupted. And though reason, almost 
 intuitively, bare witness to the truth of this moral system 
 of nature, yet it soon appeared, that they did not like to 
 retain God in their knowledge* as to any purposes of real 
 piety. Natural religion became gradually more and more 
 darkened with superstition, little understood, less regarded 
 in practice; and the face of it scarce discernible at all, in 
 the religious establishments of the most learned, polite- 
 nations. And how much soever could have been done 
 towards the revival of it by the light of reason, yet this 
 light could not have discovered, what so nearly concerned 
 us, that important part in the scheme of this world, which 
 regards a Mediator; nor how far the settled constitution 
 of its government admitted repentance to be accepted for- 
 remission of sins; after the obscure intimations of these 
 things, from tradition, were corrupted or forgotten. One 
 
 * Rom. i. 28. 
 
A SERMON, &o. 185 
 
 people indeed had clearer notices of them, together with 
 the genuine scheme of natural religion, preserved in the 
 primitive and subsequent revelations committed to their 
 trust; and were designed to be a witness of God, and a 
 providence to the nations around them: but this people 
 also had corrupted themselves and their religion to the 
 highest degree, that was consistent with keeping up the 
 form of it. 
 
 In this state of things, when infinite Wisdom saw 
 proper, the general doctrine of religion was authoritatively 
 republished in its purity; and the particular dispensation 
 of Providence, which this world is under, manifested to 
 all men, even, the dispensation of the grace of God* 
 towards us, as sinful, lost creatures, to be recovered by 
 repentance through a Mediator ; who was to make 
 reconciliation for iniquity, and to bring in everlasting 
 righteousness, \ and at length establish that new state of 
 things foretold by the prophet Daniel, under the character 
 of a kingdom, which the God of heaven woidd set up, and 
 ■which sTiould never be destroyed.X This, including a more 
 distinct account of the instituted means, whereby Christ 
 the Mediator would gather together in one the children of 
 God, that were scattered abroad,§ and conduct them to the 
 place he is gone to prepare for them;\\ is the Gospel of the 
 kingdom, which he here foretels, and elsewhere com- 
 mands, should be preached in all the world, for a witness 
 unto all nations. And it first began to be spoken by the 
 Lord, and was confirmed unto us by them that heard him; 
 God also bearing them witness, both with signs and wonders, 
 and with divers miracles, and gifts of the Holy Ghost, 
 according to his own will:^ by which means it was spread 
 very widely among the nations of the world, and became 
 a witness unto them. 
 
 When thus much was accomplished, as there is a 
 wonderful uniformity in the conduct of Providence, 
 Christianity was left with Christians, to be transmitted 
 down pure and genuine, or to be corrupted and sunk; 
 in like manner as the religion of nature had been before 
 left with mankind in general. I'here was however this 
 
 ♦ Epii. iii. 2. + Y)an. !x. 24. J Dan. ii. 44. 
 
 § John xi. 52. || Joliii xiv. 2, 3. ^ Heb. ii. 3, 4. 
 
186 A SERMON BEFORE THE SOCIETY FOB 
 
 ■difference, that by an institution of external religion fitted 
 for all men (consisting in a common form of Christian 
 worship, together with a standing ministry of instruction 
 and discipline), it pleased God to unite Christians 
 in communities or visible churches, and all along to 
 preserve them, over a great part of the world; and thus 
 perpetuate a general publication of the gospel. For 
 these communities, which together make up the cathohc 
 visible church, are, first, the repositories of the written 
 oracles of God; and, in every age, have preserved and 
 published them, in every country, where the profession 
 of Christianity has obtained. Hence it has come to 
 pass, and it is a thing very much to be observed in the 
 appointment of Providence, that even such of these 
 communities, as, in a long succession of years, have 
 corrupted Christianity the most, have yet continually 
 carried, together with their corruptions, the confutation 
 of them: for they have every where preserved the pure 
 original standard of it, the Scripture, to which recourse 
 might have been had, both by the deceivers and the 
 deceived, in every successive age. Secondly, any par- 
 ticular church, in whatever place estabhshed, is like a 
 city that is set on a hill, which cannot be hid,* inviting all 
 who pass by, to enter into it. All persons, to whom 
 any notices of it come, have, in Scripture language, the 
 kingdom of God come nigh unto them. They are reminded 
 of that religion, which natural conscience attests the truth 
 of: and they may, if they will, be instructed in it more 
 distinctly, and likewise in the gracious means, whereby 
 sinful creatures may obtain eternal life; that chief and 
 final good, which ail men, in proportion to their under- 
 standing and integrity, even in all ages and cov^ntries of 
 the heathen world, were ever in pursuit of. And, lastly, 
 out of these churches have all along gone forth persons, 
 who have preached the gospel in remote places, with 
 gfeater or less good effect: for the establishment of any 
 profession of Christianity, however corrupt, I call a good 
 effect, whilst accompanied with a continued publication 
 of the Scripture, notwithstanding it may for some time 
 lie quite neglected. 
 
THE PROPAGATION OP THE GOSPEL, 187 
 
 From these things, it may be worth observing by the 
 •way, appears the weakness of all pleas for neglecting the 
 public service of the church. For though a man prays 
 with as much devotion and less interruption at home, 
 and reads better sermons there, yet that will by no means 
 excuse the neglect of his appointed part in keeping up 
 the profession of Christianity amongst mankind. And 
 this neglect, wei-e it universal, must be the dissolution of 
 the whole visible church, i.e. of all Christian communities; 
 and so must prevent those good purposes, which were 
 intended to be answered by them, and which they have, 
 all along, answered over the world. For we see that by 
 their means the event foretold in the text, which began 
 in the preaching of Christ and the apostles, has been 
 carried on, more or less ever since, and is still carrying 
 on; these being the providential means of its progress. 
 And it is, I suppose, the completion of this event, which 
 St John had a representation of, under the figure of an 
 angel flying in the midst of heaven, having the everlasting 
 gospel to preach unto them that dwell on the earth, and to 
 every nation, and kindred, and tongue, and people.* 
 
 Our Lord adds in the text, that this should be for a 
 witness unto them; for an evidence of their duty, and an 
 admonition to perform it. But what would be the effect, 
 or success of the general preaching of the gospel, is not 
 here mentioned. And therefore the prophecy of the 
 text is not parallel to those others in Scripture, which 
 seem to foretel the glorious establishment of Christianity 
 in the last days: nor does it appear that they are coinci- 
 dent; otherwise than as the former of these events must 
 be supposed preparatory to the latter. Nay, it is not 
 said here, that God willeth all men should be saved, and 
 come unto the knowledge of the truth: t though this is the 
 language of Scripture elsewhere. The text declares no 
 more, than that '♦^ was the appointment of God, in his 
 righteous government over the world, that the gospel oj 
 the kingdom should be preached for a witness unto it. 
 
 The visible constitution and course of nature, the 
 moral law written in our hearts, the positive institutions of 
 religion, and even any memorial of it, are all spoken of 
 
 * Rev. xiv. & t 1 Tiin. ii. 4. 
 
188 A. SERMON BEFORE THE SOCIETY FOR 
 
 ill Scriptnre under this, or the like denomination: so are 
 the prophets, apostles, and our Lord hirnself. They 
 are all witnesses, for the most part unregarded witnesses, 
 in behalf of God, to mankind. They inform us of his- 
 being and providence, and of the particular dispensation, 
 of religion which we are under ; and continually remind 
 us of them. And they are equally witnesses of these 
 things, whether we regard them or not. Thus after a 
 declaration, that Ezekiel should be sent with a divine 
 message to the children of Israel, it is added, and they, 
 whether they will hear, or whether tliey will forbear (for 
 they are a rebellious Jvouse), yet shall know thai there haih 
 been a prophet among them* And our Lord directs the 
 seventy disciples, upon their departure from any city, 
 which refused to receive them, to declare, Notwithstand- 
 ing, be ye sure of this, that tlie kingdom of God is come 
 nigh unto you.\ The thing intended in both these pas- 
 sages is that which is expressed in the text by the word 
 witness. And all of them together evidently suggest thus 
 much, that the purposes of Providence are carried on, by 
 the preaching of the gospel, to those who reject it, as 
 well as to those who embrace it. It is indeed true, God 
 willeth that all men should be saved: yet, from the unal- 
 terable constitution of his government, the salvation of 
 every man cannot but depend upon his behaviour, and 
 therefore cannot but depend upon himself; and is neces- 
 sarily his own concern, in a sense, in which it cannot be 
 another's. All this the Scripture declares, in a manner the 
 most forcible and alarming : Can a man be profitable unto 
 God, as he that is wise may be profitable unto himself? Is 
 it any pleasure to the Almighty, that thou art righteous ? 
 or is it gain to Him, that thou makest thy way perfect "it 
 If thou be wise, thou shall be wise for thyself: but if thou 
 scornest, thou alone shall bear it.§ He that heareth, let 
 him hear; and he that forbeareth, let him forbear. W And 
 again, He that liath ears to hear, let him hear: but if any 
 mat}, be ignorant, i. e. wilfully, let him be ignorant.^ To 
 the same purpose are those awful words of the angel, in 
 the person of Him, to whom all judgment is committed:** 
 
 * Ezek. ii. 5, 7. f Luke x. H. ^: Job xiii. 2, 3. § Prov. ix. i?, 
 II Eaek. iii. 27. H I Cor. xiv. 38. •* John v. 28. 
 
THE PROPAGATION OF THE GOSPEL. 189 
 
 He, that is unjust, let him be unjust still: and he which is 
 filthy, let him be jiUhy still: and he that is righteous, let 
 him be righteous still: and he that is holy, let him be holy 
 still. And behold, I come quickly ; and my reward is with 
 me, to give every m.an according as his work shall be* 
 The righteous government of the world must be carried 
 on; and, of necessity, men shall remain the subjects oi 
 it, by being examples of its mercy, or of its justice. Life 
 ^nd death are set before them, and whether they like shall 
 be given them.f They are to make their choice, and 
 abide by it: but which soever their choice be, the gospel 
 is equally a witness to them ; and the purposes of Provi- 
 dence are answered by this witness of the gospel. 
 
 From the foregoing view of things we should be 
 reminded, that the same reasons which make it our duty 
 to instruct the ignorant in the relation, which the light of 
 nature shows they stand in to God their maker, and* in 
 the obligations of obedience, resignation, and love to 
 him, which arise out of that relation ; make it our duty 
 likewise to instruct them in all those other relations, 
 which revelation informs us of, and in the obligations of 
 duty, which arise out of them. And the reasons for 
 instructing men in both these are of the very same kind, 
 as for communicating any useful knowledge whatever. 
 God, if he had so pleased, could indeed miraculously have 
 revealed every religious truth which concerns mankind, 
 to every individual man; and so he could have every 
 common truth; and thus have superseded all use of 
 human teaching in either. Yet he has not done this: 
 but has appointed, that men should be instructed by the 
 assistance of their fellow creatures in both. Further: 
 though all knowledge from reason is as really from God, 
 as revelation is : yet this last is a distinguished favour to 
 us, and naturally strikes us with the greatest awe, and 
 carries in it an assurance, that those things which we are 
 informed of by it are of the utmost importance to us to 
 be niformed of. Revelation therefore, as it demands to 
 be received with a regard and reverence peculiar to itself; 
 so it lays us under obligations of a like pecuhar sort, to 
 communicate the light of it. Further still: it being an 
 
 • Kev. xxii. 11, 12. f Ecclus. xv. 17. 
 
190 A SERMON BEFOKE THE SOCIETY FOR 
 
 indispensable law of the gospel, that Christians should unite 
 in reltgious comnnunities, and these being intended for 
 repositories* of the written oracles of God, for standing 
 memorials of religion to unthinking men, and for the 
 propagation of it in the world; Christianity is very parti- 
 cularly to be considered as a trust, deposited with us in 
 behalfof others, in behalf of mankind, as well as for our 
 own instruction. No one has a right to be called a 
 Christian, who doth not do somewhat in his station, towards 
 the discharge of this trust ; who doth not, for instance, assist 
 in keeping up the profession of Christianity where he hves. 
 And it is an obligation but little more remote, to assist in 
 doing it in our factories abroad; and in the colonies to 
 which we are related, by their being peopled from our own 
 mother-country, and subjects, indeed very necessary ones, 
 to the same gotfernment with ourselves: and nearer yet 
 is^the obligation upon such persons in particular, as have 
 the int; rcourse of an advantageous commerce with them. 
 
 Of these our colonies, the slaves ought to be considered 
 as inferior members, and therefore to be treated as 
 members of them ; and not merely as cattle or goods, 
 the property of their masters. Nor can the highest 
 property, possible to be acquired in these servants, cancel 
 the obligation to take care of their religious instruction. 
 Despicable as they may appear in our eyes, they are the 
 creatures of God, and of the race of mankind, for whom 
 Christ died: and it is inexcusable to keep them in 
 ignorance of the end for which they we;re made, and the 
 means whereby they may become partakers of the general 
 redemption. On the contrary, if the necessity of the 
 case requires, that they may be treated with the very 
 utmost rigour, that humanity will at all permit, as they 
 certainly are; and, for our advantage, made as miserable 
 as they well can be in the present world; this surely 
 heightens our obligation to put them into as advantageous 
 a situation as we are able, with regard to another. 
 
 The like charity we owe to the natives; owe to them 
 in a much stricter sense than we are apt to consider, were 
 it only from neighbourhood, and our having goHen 
 possessions in their country. For incidental crrcumstancess 
 
 * p. ISO. 
 
THE PnorAGATION Ol'' THE GOSPEL. IQI 
 
 of this kind apprnpriate all the general obligations of 
 charity to particular persons; and make such and such 
 instances of it the duty of one man rather than another. 
 We are most strictly bound to consider these poor unin- 
 formed creatures, as being in all respects, of one family 
 with ourselves, the family of mankind; and instruct them 
 in our common salvation:* that they may not pass through 
 this stage of their being like brute beasts; but be put into 
 a capacity of moral improvements, how low soever they 
 nuist remain as to others, and so into a capacity of 
 qualifying themselves for a higher state of life hereafter. 
 
 All our affairs should be carried on in the fear of God, 
 in subserviency to his honour, and the good of mankind. 
 And thus navigation and commerce should be consecrated 
 to the service of religion, by being made the means of 
 propagating it in every country, with which we have any 
 intercourse. And the more widely we endeavour to 
 spread its light and influence, as the forementioned 
 circumstances, and others of a like kind, open and direct 
 our way, the more faithful shall we be judged in the 
 discharge of that trust,t vi^hich is committed to us as 
 Christians, when our Lord shall require an account of it. 
 
 And it may be some encouragement to cheerful 
 perseverance in these endeavours to observe, not only that 
 they are our duty, but also that they seem the means of 
 carrying on a great scheme of Providence, which shal! 
 certainly be accomplished. For the everlasting gospel 
 shall be preached to every nation.t and the kingdoms of 
 this world shall become the kingdoms of our Lord, and of 
 his Christ. § 
 
 However, we ought not to be discouraged in this good 
 work, though its future success were less clearly foretold; 
 and though its effect now in reforming mankind appeared 
 to be as little as our adversaries pretend. They, indeed, 
 and perhaps some others, seem to require more than 
 either experience or Scripture give ground to hope for, 
 in the present course of the world. But the bare estab- 
 lishment of Christianity in any place, even the external 
 form and profession of it, is a very-iinportant and valuable 
 effect. It ig a serious call upon men to attend to the 
 
192 A SERMON BEFORE THE SOCIETY FOR 
 
 natural and the revealed doctrine of religion. It is a 
 standing publication of the gospel, and renders it a. witness 
 to them: and by this means the purposes of Providence 
 are carrying on, with regard to remote ages, as well as 
 to the present. Cast thy bread upon the waters ; for thou 
 shall find it after many days. In the morning sow thy seed, 
 and in the evening withhold not thine hand; for thou knoipesf 
 not whether shall prosper, either this or that, or wliether 
 they both shall be alike good* We can look but a very 
 little way into the connexions and consequences of things: 
 our duty is to spread the incorruptible seed as widely as 
 we can, and leave it to God to give the increaseA Vet 
 thus much we may be almost assured of, that the gospel, 
 wherever it is planted, will have its genuine effect upon 
 some few; upon more perhaps than are taken notice of in 
 the hurry of the world. There are, at least, a few persons 
 in every country and successive age, scattered up and down, 
 and mixed among the rest of mankind ; who, not being 
 corrupted past amendment, but having within them the 
 principles of recovery, will be brought to a moral and 
 religious sense of things, by the establishment of Chris- 
 tianity where they live; and then will be influenced by 
 the peculiar doctrines of it, in proportion to the integrity 
 of their minds, and to the clearness, purity, and 
 evidence, with which it is offered them. Of these our 
 Lord speaks in the parable of the sower, as understanding 
 the word; and bearing fruit, and bringing forth, some an 
 hundred fold, some sixty, some thirty. X One might add, 
 that these persons, in proportion to their influence, do at 
 present better the state of things: better it even in the 
 civil sense, by giving some check to that avowed 
 profligateness, which is a contradiction to all order and 
 government; and, if not checked, must be the subversion 
 of it. 
 
 These important purposes, which are certainly to be 
 expected from the good work before us, may serve to 
 show, how little weight there is in that objection against 
 it, from the want of those miraculous assistances, with 
 which the first preadiers of Christianity proved its truth. 
 The plain state of the case is, that the gospel, though it 
 
 * Ecolea. xi. 1, 6. ^l Cor. iii. C. t Malt. xiii. 83. 
 
TteE PROPAGATION OF THE GOSPEL. 193 
 
 "be not in the same degree a witness to all, who have it 
 made known to them; yet in some degree is so to all. 
 Miracles to the spectators' of them are intuitive proofs of 
 its truth: but the bare preaching of it is a serious 
 admonition to all who hear it, to attend to the notices 
 which God has given of himself by the light of nature ; 
 and, if Christianity be preached with its proper evidence, 
 to submit to its peculiar discipline and laws; if not, to 
 inquire honestly after its evidence, in proportion to their 
 capacities. And there are persons of small capacities 
 for inquiry and examination, who yet are wrought upon 
 by it, to deny ungodliness and worldly lusts, and live soberly, 
 righteously, and godly in this present world,* in expectation 
 of a future judgment by Jesus Christ. Nor can' any 
 Christian, who understands his religion, object, that these 
 persons are Christians without evidence: for he cannot 
 -be ignorant who has declared, that if any man will do 
 his will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God A 
 And, since the whole end of Christianity is to influence the 
 heart and actions, were an unbeliever to object in that 
 manner, he should be asked, whether he would think it 
 to the purpose to object against persons of like capacities, 
 that they are prudent without evidence, when, as is often 
 the case, they are observed to manage their worldly affairs 
 Tvith discretion. 
 
 The design before us being therefore in general 
 unexceptionably good, it were much to be wished, that 
 serious men of all denominations would join in it. And 
 let me add, that the foregoing view of things affords 
 distinct reasons why they should. For, first, by so doing, 
 they assist in a work of the most useful importance, that 
 of spreading over the world the Scripture itself, as a divine 
 revelation : and it cannot be spread under this character, 
 for a continuance, in any country, unless Christian 
 churches be supported there ; but will always more or 
 less, so long as such churches subsist : and therefore their 
 subsistence ought to be provided for. In the next place, 
 they should remember, that if Christianity is to be 
 propagated at all, which they acknowledge it should, it 
 must be in some particular form of profession. And 
 
 * Titus ii. 12, 13. •{■ John vii. 17. 
 
 N 
 
194 A SERMON BEFORE THE SOCIETY FOR 
 
 though they think ours Hable to objections, yet it is 
 possible they thennselves may be mistaken; and whether 
 they are or no, the very nature of society requires some 
 comphance with others. And whilst, together with our 
 particular form of Christianity, the confessed standard of 
 Christian religion, the Scripture, is spread ; and especially 
 whilst every one is freely allowed to study it, and worship 
 "God according to his conscience: the evident tendency 
 is, that genuine Christianity will be understood and prevail. 
 Upon the whole therefore, tliese persons would do weU 
 to consider, how far they can with reason satist'y 
 themselves in neglectingwhat is certainly right, on account 
 of what is doubtful, whether it be wrong; and when the 
 right is of so much greater consequence one way, than 
 the supposed wrong can be to the other. 
 
 To conclude: Atheistical immorality and profaneness, 
 surely, is not better in itself, nor less contrary to the 
 design of revelation, than superstition. Nor is super- 
 stition the distinguishing vice of the present age, either 
 at home or abroad. But if our colonies abroad are left 
 without a public religion, and the means of instruction, 
 what <;an be expected, but that, from living in a continued 
 forgttfulness of God, they will at length cease to believe 
 in him; and so sink into stupid atheism .P And there is 
 too apparent danger of the like horrible depravity at 
 home, without the like excuse for it. Indeed amongst 
 creatures naturally formed for religion, yet so much under 
 the powers of imagination, so apt to deceive themselves, 
 and so liable to be deceived by others, as men are; 
 superstition is an evil, which can never be out of sight. 
 But even against this, true religion is a great security; 
 and the only one. True religion takes up that place ia 
 the mind, which superstition would usurp, and so leaves 
 little room for it; and likewise lays us under the strongest 
 obligations to oppose it. On the contrary, the danger of 
 superstition cannot but be increased by the prevalence of 
 irreligion: and by its general prevalence, the evil will be 
 unavoidable. For the common people, wanting a religion, 
 will of course take up with almost any superstition, which 
 is thrown in their way: and, in process of time, amidst 
 the infinite vicissitudes of the political world, the leaders 
 
THE PROPAGATION OF THE GOSPEL. 195 
 
 of parties will certainly be -Mo lr< lerve themselves of 
 that superstition, whatever it be, which is getting grouiul: 
 and will not fail to carry it on 'to the utmost length their 
 occasions require. The general nature of the tfiing 
 shows this; and history and fact confirm it. But what 
 brings the observation home to ourselves is, that the great 
 superstition of which this nation, in particular, has reason 
 to be afraid, is imminent; and the ways in which we may, 
 very supposably, be overwhelmed by it, obvious. It 
 is therefore wonderful, those people who seem to think 
 there is but one evil in life, that of superstition, should 
 not see, that atheism and profaneness must be the 
 introduction of it. So that in eveiy view of things, and 
 upon all accounts, irr, ligion is at present our chief danger. 
 Now the several religious associations among us, in which 
 many good men have of late united, appear to be 
 providentially adapted to this present state of the world. 
 And as all good men are equally concerned in promoting 
 the end of them; to do it more effectually, they ought to 
 unite in promoting it: which yet is scarce practicable 
 upon any new models, and quite impossible upon such as 
 every one would think unexceptionable. They ought 
 therefore to come into those already formed to th^ir 
 hands; and even take advantage of any occasion of union, 
 to add mutual force to each other's endeavours in 
 furthering their common end ; however they may diifer 
 as to the best means, or any thing else subordinate to it. 
 Indeed there are well-disposed persons, who much want 
 to bi admonished, how dangerous a thing it is, to dis- 
 countenance what is good, because it is not better ;' and 
 hinder what they approve, by raising prejudices against 
 some under-part of it. Nor can they assist in rectifying 
 what they think capable of amendment, in the manner 
 of carrying on these designs, unless they will join in the 
 designs themselves; which they must acknowledge to be 
 good and necessary ones. For what can be called good 
 and necessary by Christians, if it be not so, to support 
 Christianity where it must otherwise sink, and propagate 
 it where it nnust otherwise ba unknown; to restrain 
 abandoned, barefaced vice, by making useful examples, 
 at least of shame, perhaps of repentance ; and to fake 
 
196 A SEIIMON, ETC. 
 
 care of the education of such children, as otherwise 
 must be, even educated in wickedness, and trained up 
 to destruction? Yet good men separately can do nothing, 
 proportionable to what is wanting, in any of these ways; 
 but their common, united endeavours may do a great 
 deal in all of them. 
 
 And besides the particular purposes, which these 
 several religious associations serve, the more general 
 ones, which they all serve, ought not to be passed over. 
 Every thing of this kind is, in some degree, a safeguard 
 to religion ; an obstacle, more or less, in the way of those 
 who want to have it extirpated out of the world. Such 
 societies also contribute more especially towards keeping 
 up the face of Christianity among ourselves ; and by their 
 obtaining here, the gospel is rendered more and more a 
 witness to us. 
 
 And if it were duly attended to, and had its genuine 
 influence upon our minds, there would be no need of 
 persuasions to iippart the blessing: nor would the means 
 of doing it be wanting. Indeed the present income of 
 this Society, which depends upon voluntary contributions, 
 with the most frugal management of it, can in no wise 
 sufficiently answer the bare purposes of our charter: but 
 the nation, or even this opulent city itself, has it in its 
 power to do so very much more, that I fear the mention 
 of it may be thought too severe a reproof, since so little 
 is done. But if the gospel had its proper influence upon 
 the Christian world in general, as it is the centre of trade 
 and seat of learning, a very few ages, in all probability, 
 would settle Christianity in every country, without mira- 
 culous assistances. For scarce any thing else, I am 
 persuaded, would be wanting to effect this, but laying 
 it before men in its divine simplicity, together with an 
 exemplification of it in the lives of Christian nations. 
 Tlie unlearned and unbelievers, falling down on fheir faces, 
 would worship God, and report that God is in us of a 
 truth.* 
 
 * X Cor. xiv. 24, 25. 
 
A SERMON, BTC. 197 
 
 SERMON II. 
 
 PREACHED BEFORE THE RIGHT HON. THE LORD MAYOR, THE COURT OF 
 ALDERMEN, THE SHERIFFS, AND THE GOVERNORS OF THE SEVERAL 
 HOSPITALS OF THE CITY OF LONDON, AT THE PARISH CHURCH OF ST 
 BRIDGET, ON MONDAY IN EASTER- WEEK, 1740. 
 
 The rich and poor meet together: the Lord is the maker of 
 them all. — Prov. xxii. 2. 
 
 The constitution of things being such, that the labour of 
 one man, or the united labour of several, is sufficient to 
 procure more necessaries than he or they stand in need 
 of, which it may be supposed was, in some degree, the 
 case, even in the first ages; this immediately gave room 
 for riches to arise in the world, and for men's acquiring 
 them by honest means; by diligence, frugality, and 
 prudent management. Thus some would very soon 
 acquire greater plenty of necessaries than they had 
 occasion for; and others by contrary means, or by cross 
 accidents, would be in want of them: and he who 
 should supply their wants would have the property in a 
 proportionable laftour of their hands; which he would 
 scarce fail to make use of, instead of his own, or perhaps 
 together with them, to provide future necessaries in 
 greater plenty. Riches then were first bestowed upon 
 the world, as they are still continued in it, by the blessing 
 of God upon the industry of men, in the use of their 
 understanding and strength. Riches themselves have 
 always this source; though the possession of them is 
 conveyed to particular persons by different channels. 
 Yet still, the hand of the diligent maketh rich,* and, other 
 circumstances being equal, in proportion to its diligence. 
 But to return to the first rich man ; whom we left in 
 possession of dependants, and plenty of necessaries for 
 himself and them. A family would not be long in this 
 state, before conveniences, somewhat ornamental, and for 
 entertainment, would be wanted, looked for, and found 
 out. And, by degrees, these secondary wants, and 
 inventions for the supply of them, the fruits of leisure 
 
 • PlOT. X. 4. 
 
198 A SERMON PKEAC'HED BEFORE 
 
 and ease, came to employ much of men's time an^ labour. 
 Hence a new species of riches came into the world, con- 
 sisting of things which it might have done well enough 
 without, yet thought desirable, as affording pleasure to 
 the imagination or the senses. And these went on 
 increasing, till, at length, the superfluities of life took in 
 a vastly larger compass of things than the necessaries of 
 it. Thus luxury made its inroad, and all the numerous 
 train of evils its attendants; Of which poverty, as bad a 
 one as we may account it, is far from being the worst. 
 Indeed the hands of the generality must be employed: 
 and a very few of them would now be sufficient to 
 provide the world with necessaries: and therefore the 
 rest of them must be employed about what may be called 
 superfluities; which could not be, if these superfluities 
 were not made use of Yet the desire of such things, 
 insensibly, becomes immoderate, and the use of them, 
 almost of course, degenerates into luxury; which, in 
 every age, has been the dissipation of riches, and, in 
 every sense, the ruin of those who were possessed 
 of them: and therefore cannot be too much guarded 
 against by all opulent cities. And as men sink into 
 luxury, as much from fashion, as Sirect inclination, 
 the richer sort together may easily restrain this vice, in 
 almost what degree they please : and a few of the chief 
 of them may contribute a great deal towards the re- 
 straining it. 
 
 It is to be observed further concerning the progress 
 of riches, that had they continued to consist only in the 
 possession of the things themselves, which were necessary, 
 and of the things themselves, which were, upon their own 
 account, otherwise desirable; this, in several respects, 
 must have greatly embarrassed trade and commerce; 
 and have set bounds to the increase of riches in all hands, 
 as well as have confined them in the hands of a few. 
 But, in process of time, it was agreed to substitute 
 somewhat more lasting and portable, which should pass 
 every where, in commerce, for real natural riches; as 
 sounds had before, in language, been substituted for 
 thoughts. And this general agreement (by what means 
 soever it became general), tliat money should answer all 
 
THE LORD MAYOR, ETC. 199 
 
 things, together with some other improvements, gave full 
 i?cope for riches to increase in the hands of particular 
 persons, and liicewise to circulate into more hands. Now 
 this, though it was not the first origin of covetousness, 
 yet it gives greater scope, encouragement, and tempta- 
 tion to covetousness than it had before. And there is 
 moreover the appearance, that this artificial kind of riches, 
 money, has begot an artificial kind of passion for' them: 
 both which follies well-disposed persons must, by all 
 means, endeavour to keep clear of. For indeed the love 
 of riches is the root of all evil:* though riches themselves 
 may be made instrumental in promoting every thing that 
 is good. 
 
 The improvement of trade and commerce has made 
 another change, just hinted at, and I think a very happy 
 one, in the state of the world, as it has enlarged the 
 middle rank of people: many of which are, in good 
 measure, free from the vices of the highest and the 
 lowest part of mankind. Now these persons must 
 remember, that whether, in common language, they do 
 or do not pass under the denomination of rich, yet they 
 really are so, with regard to the indigent and necessitous; 
 and that considering the great numbers which make up 
 this middle rank among us, and how much they mix with 
 the poor, they are able to contribute very largely to their 
 relief, and have in all respects a very great influence over 
 them. 
 
 You have heard now the origin and progress of what 
 this great city so much abounds with, riches; as far as I 
 had occasion to speak of these things. For this brief 
 account of them has been laid before you for the sake of 
 the good admonitions it afforded. Nor will the admoni- 
 tions be thought foreign to the charities, which we are 
 endeavouring to promote. For* these must necessarily 
 be less, and the occasions for them greater, in proportion 
 as industry should abate, or luxury increase. And the 
 temper of covetousness is, we all know, directly contrary 
 to that of charity, and eats out the very heart of it. Then, 
 lastly, there are good sort of pedple who really want to 
 be told, that they are included m the admonitions to be 
 
 * Tim. vi. 10. 
 
200 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE 
 
 given to the rich, though they do see others richer thare 
 themselves. 
 
 The ranks of rich and poor being thus formed, they 
 meet together; they continue to malse up one society. 
 The mutual want, which they still have of each other,, 
 still unites them inseparably. But they meet upon a foot 
 of great inequality. For, as Solomon expresses it in 
 brief, and with much force, the rich ruleth over the poor.* 
 And this their general intercourse, with the superiority 
 on one hand, and dependence on the other, are in 
 no sort accidental, but arise necessarily from a settled 
 providential disposition of things, for their common good. 
 Here then is a real, standing relation between the rich- 
 and the poor. And the former must take care to perform 
 the duties belonging to their part of it, for these chiefly 
 the present occasion leads me to speak to, from regard' 
 to Him, who placed them in that relation to the poor, 
 from whence those duties arise, and who is the Maker oj 
 them all. 
 
 What these duties are, will easily be seen, and the 
 obligations to them strongly enforced, by a little further 
 reflection upon both these ranks, and the natural situa- 
 tion which they are in with respect to each other. 
 
 The lower rank of mankind go on, for the most part, 
 in some tract of living, into which they got by direction 
 or example ; and to this their understanding and discourse, 
 as well as labour, are greatly confined. Their opinions 
 of persons and things they take upon trust. Their be- 
 haviour has very little in it original or of home-growth; 
 very little which may not be traced up to the influence 
 of others, and less which is not capable of being changed 
 by such influence. Then as God has made plentiful 
 provision for all his creatures, the wants of all, even of 
 the poorest, might be supplied, so far as it is fit they 
 should, by a proper distribution of it. This being 4he 
 condition of the lower part of mankind, consider now 
 what influence, as well as power, their superiors must, 
 from the nature of the case, have over them. For they 
 can instil instruction, and recommend it in a pecuhar 
 manner by their example, and enforce it still further with,' 
 
 * Prov. xxii. 7. 
 
THE LORD MAYOR, ETC. 201 
 
 favour and discouragement of various kinds. And 
 experience shows, tljat they do direct and change the 
 course of the world as they please. Not only the civil 
 welfare, but the morals and religion of their fellow 
 creatures, greatly depend upon them ; much more indeed 
 than they would, if the common people were not greatly 
 wanting to their duty. All this is evidently true of 
 superiors in general; superiors in riches, authority, and 
 understanding, taken together. And need I say how 
 much of this whole superiority goes along with riches ? 
 It is no small part of it, which arises out of riches them- 
 selves. In all governments, particularly in our own, a 
 good share of civil authority accompanies them. Superior 
 natural understanding may, or may not: but when it 
 does not, yet riches afford great opportunities for im- 
 provement, and may command information ; which things 
 together are equivalent to natural superiority of under- 
 ^standing. 
 
 But I am sure you will not think I have been remind- 
 ing you of these advantages of riches in order to beget 
 in you that complacency and trust in them, which you 
 find the Scripture every where warning you against. 
 No: the importance of riches, this their power and 
 influence, affords the most serious admonition in the 
 world to those who are possessed of them. For it 
 shows, how very blameable even their carelessness in 
 the use of that power and influence must be: since it 
 must be blameable in a degree proportionate to the 
 importance of what they are thus careless about. 
 
 But it is,.not only true, that the rich have the power 
 of doing a great deal of good, and must be highly 
 blameable for neglecting to do it: but it is moreover 
 true, that this power is given them by way of trust, in 
 order to their keeping down that vice and misery, with 
 which the lower people would otherwise be quite over- 
 run. For without instruction and good influence they, of 
 course, grow rude and vicious, and reduce themselves 
 to the utmost distresses; often to very terrible ones 
 without deserving much blame. tAnd to these must be 
 added , their unavoidable distresses, which yet admit of 
 relief. This their case plainly requires, that some 
 
202 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE 
 
 natural provision should be made for it: as the case of 
 children does, who, if left to their own ways, would 
 aliriost infallibly ruin themselves. Accordingly Provi- 
 dence has made provision for this case of the poor: not 
 only by forming their minds peculiarly apt to be influ- 
 enced by their superiors, and giving those superiors 
 abilities to direct and relieve them; but also by putting 
 the latter under the care and protection of the former: 
 for this is plainly done, by means of that intercourse of 
 various kinds between them, which in the natural course 
 of things, is unavoidably necessary. In the primitive ages 
 of the world, the manner in which the rich and the poor 
 met together, was in families. Rich men had the poor 
 for their servants: not only a few for the offices about 
 their persons, and for the care of what we now call 
 domestic affairs; but great numbers also for the keeping 
 of their cattle, the tillage of their fields, for working up 
 their wool into furniture and vestments of necessary 
 use as well as ornament, and for preparing them those 
 many things at home, which now pass through a mul- 
 titude of unknown poor hands successively, and are by 
 them prepared, at a distance, for the use of the rich. 
 The instruction of these large families, and the oversight 
 of their morals and religion, plainly belonged to the 
 heads of them. And that obvious humanity, which 
 every one feels, must have induced them to be kind to 
 all whom they found under their roof, in sickness and old 
 age. In this state of the world, the relation between 
 the rich and the poor could not but be universally seen 
 and acknowledged. Now indeed it is less in sight, by 
 means of artificial methods of carrying on business, 
 which yet are not blameable. But the relation still" 
 subsists, and the obligations arising out of it; and cannot 
 but remain the same, whilst the rich have the same want 
 of the poor, and make the same use of them, though not 
 so immediately under their eye; and whilst the instruc- 
 tion, and manners, and good or bad state of the poor, 
 really depend in so great a degree upon the rich, as all 
 these things evidently 'do; partly in their capacity of 
 niagistrates, but very much also in their private capacity. 
 In short, he who has distributed men into these different 
 
THE LORD MAYOR, ETC. 203 
 
 S'anks, and at the same time united them into one 
 society, in such sort as men are united, has, by this 
 constitution of things, formally put the poor under the 
 supcrintendency and patronage of the rich. The rich 
 then are charged, by natural providence, as much as by 
 revealed appointment, with the care of the poor: not to 
 maintain them idle; which, were it possible they could 
 be yo maintained, would produce greater mischiefs than 
 those which charity is to prevent; but to take care, that 
 they maintain themselves by their labour, or in case 
 thty cannot, then to relieve them; to restrain their 
 vices, and form their minds to virtue and religion. This 
 is a trust, yet it is not a burden, but a privilege, annexed 
 to riches. And if every one discharged his share of the 
 trust faithfully, whatever be his share of it, the world 
 would be quite another place from what it is. But that 
 cannot be, till covetousness, debauchery, and every vice, 
 be unknown among the rich. Then, and not before, 
 will the manners of the poor be, in all respects, what 
 they ought to be, and their distresses find the full relief, 
 ■which they ought to find. And, as far as things of this 
 sort can be calculated, in proportion to the right beha- 
 viour of persons whom God has placed in the former of 
 these ranks, will be the right behaviour and good condi- 
 tion of those who are cast into the latter. Every one of 
 ability then is to be persuaded to do somewhat towards 
 this, keeping up a sense of virtue and religion among 
 the poor, and relieving their wants; each as much as he 
 can be persuaded to. Since the generality will not part 
 with their vices, it were greatly to be wished, they 
 would bethink themselves, and do what good they are 
 able, so far only as is consistent with them. A vicious 
 rich man cannot pass through life without doing an 
 incredible deal of mischief, were it only by his example 
 and influence; besides neglecting the most important 
 obligations, which arise from his superior fortune. Yet 
 still, the fewer of them he neglects, and the less mischief 
 he does, the less share of the vices and miseries of his 
 inferiors will lie at his door: the less will be his guilt 
 and punishment. But conscientious persons of this 
 rank must revolve again and again in their minds, how 
 
204 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE 
 
 great the trust is, which God. has annexed to it. They 
 must each of them consider impartially, what is his own 
 particular share of that trust; which is determined by his 
 situation, character, and fortune together: and then set 
 himself to be as useful as he can in those particular ways,, 
 which he finds thus marked out for him. This is exactly 
 the precept of St Peter: As every man hath received the 
 gift, even so minister the same one to another, as good 
 stewards of the manifold grace of God* And as rich 
 men, by a right direction of their greater capacity, may 
 entitle themselves to a greater reward ; so by a wrong 
 direction of it, or even by great negligence, they may 
 become partakers of other men's sins,\ and chargeable 
 with other men's miseries. For' if there be at all any 
 measures of proportion, any sort of regularity and order 
 in the administration of things, it is self-evident, that unto 
 whomsover much is given, of him. shall much be required : 
 and to whom much is committed, of him shall more be 
 demanded.t 
 
 But still it is to be remembered, that every man's 
 behaviour is his own concern, for every one must give 
 account of his own works ; and that the lower people are 
 very greatly to blame in yielding to any ill influence, 
 particularly following the ill example of their superiors ; 
 though these are more to blame in setting them such an 
 example. For, as our Lord declares, in the words 
 immediately preceding those just mentioned, that servant 
 which knew his Lord's will, and prepared not himself, 
 neither did according to his will, shall be beaten with many 
 stripes. But he that knew not, and did commit things 
 worthy of stripes, shall be beaten with few stripes.^ Vice 
 is itself of ill desert, and therefore shall be punished in 
 all ; though its ill desert is greater or less, and so shall 
 be its punishment, in proportion to men's knowledge of 
 God and religion : but it is in the most literal sense true, 
 that he who knew not his Lord's will, and committed things 
 worthy of stripes, sliall be beaten, though with few stripes. 
 For it being the discernment, that such and such actions 
 are evil, which renders them vicious in him who does 
 them, ignorance of other things, though it may lessen, 
 
 • 1 Pet. It. 10. "t 1 Tim. v. 88. } Luke sdl. 48. § Luke sit 47, 48. 
 
THE LORD MAYOR, ETC. 205 
 
 yet it cannot remit the punishment of such actions in a 
 just administration, because it cannot destroy the guilt of 
 them : giuch less can corrupt deference and regard to the 
 example of superiors in matters of plain duty ahd sin 
 have this effect. Indeed the lowest people know very 
 ivell, that such ill example affords no reason why they 
 should do ill; but they hope it will be an excuse for them, 
 and thus deceive themselves to their ruin : which is a 
 forcible reason why their superiors should not lay this 
 snare in their way. 
 
 All this approves itself to our natural understanding ; 
 though it is by means of Christianity chiefly, that it is 
 thus enforced upon our ccTtisciences. And Christianity, 
 as it is more than a dispensation of goodness, in the 
 general notion of goodness, even a dispensation of 
 forgiveness, of mercy and favour on God's part, does in 
 a peculiar manner heighten our obligations to charity 
 among ourselves. In this was manifested the lave of God 
 towards us, — that he sent his Son to be the propitiation for 
 our sins. Beloved, if God so loved us, we ought also to 
 love one another* With what unanswerable force is that 
 question of our Lord to be applied to every branch of this 
 duty, Shouldest not thou also have compassion on thy fellow- 
 servant, even as I had pity on thee ?f And can there be 
 a stronger inducement to endeavour the reformation of 
 the world, and bringing it to a sense of virtue and religion, 
 ■than the assurance given us, that he which converteth a 
 sinner from the. error of his way, and, in like manner, he 
 also who preventeth a person's being corrupted, by taking 
 care of his education, shall save a soul from death, and 
 hide a multitude of sins?t 
 
 These things lead us to the following observations on 
 the several charities, which are the occasion of these 
 annual solemnities. 
 
 1. What we have to bestow in charity being a trust, 
 we cannot discharge it faithfully, without taking some 
 care to satisfy ourselves in some degree, that we bestow 
 it upon the proper objects of charity. One hears persons 
 complaining, that it is difficult to distinguish who are 
 such; yet often seeming to forget, that this is a reason 
 
 » 1 John i7. 9, 10, 11. t Matt. xviu. 33. % James v. iO. 
 
206 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE 
 
 for using thoir best endeavours to do it. And others 
 make a custom of giving to idle vagabonds: a kind of 
 charit)', very improperly so cailod, which one really 
 wonders people can allow themselves in; merely to be 
 relieved from importunity, or at best to gratify a false good 
 nature. FoV they cannot but know, that it is, at least, 
 very doubtful, whether what they thus give will not 
 immediately be spent in riot and debauchery. Or 
 suppose it be not, yet still they know, they do a great 
 deal of certain mischitf, by encouraging this shameful 
 trade of begging in the streets, and all the disorders 
 which accompany it. But the charities towards which 
 I now ask your assistance, as ihey are always open, so 
 evciyone may contribute to them with full assurance,, 
 that he bestows upon proper objects, and in general that 
 he does vastly more good, than by equal sums given 
 separately to particular persons. For that these charities 
 really have these advantages, has been fully made out, 
 by some who have gone before me in the duty I am 
 discharging, and by the reports annually published at 
 this time. 
 
 Here the Report annexed was read. 
 
 Let us thank God for these charities, in behalf of th& 
 poor; and also on our own behalf, as they give us such 
 clear opportunities of doing good. Indeed without them,, 
 vice and misery, of which there is still so much, would 
 abound so much more in this populous city, as to rendejr 
 it scarce an habitable place. 
 
 2. Amongst the peculiar advantages of public charities 
 above private ones, is also to be mentioned, that they are 
 examples of great influence. They serve for perpetual 
 memorials of what I have been observing, of the relation 
 which subsists between the rich and the poor, and the 
 duties which arise out of it. They are standing admoni- 
 tions to all within sight or hearing of them, to go and da 
 likewise.* Educating poor children in virtue and religion, 
 relieving the sick, and correcting offenders in order to 
 their amendment, are, in themselves, some of the very 
 best of good works. These charities would indeed be 
 the glory of your city, though their influence were 
 
 » Luke X. 37. 
 
THE LORD MAYOR, ETC. 207 
 
 confined to it. But important as th2y are in themselves, 
 their importance still increases, by their being examples 
 to the rest of the nation; which, in process of time, of 
 course copies after the metropolis. It has indeed already 
 imitated every one of these charities; for of lat , ihe 
 most difficult and expensive of them, hospitals for the 
 sick and wounded, have been established; some within 
 your sight, others in remote parts of the kingdom. You 
 will give me leave to mention particularly that* in its 
 second trading city; which is conducted with such 
 disinterested fidelity and prudence, as I dare venture to 
 compare with yours. Again, there are particular persons 
 very blameably unactive and careless, yet not vvit;hout 
 good dispositions, who, by these charities, are reminded 
 of their duty, and provoked to love and to good uork>i^ 
 And let me add^ though one is sorry any should want so 
 slight a reason for contributing to the most cxc llent 
 designs, yet if any are supposed to do so merely of course, 
 because they see others do it, still they help to support 
 these monuments of charity, which are a cotJtinued 
 admonition to the rich, and relief to the poor: and herein 
 all good men rejoice, as St Paul speaks of himself in a 
 like case, yea, and will rejoice.t 
 
 3. As all human schemes admit of improvement, ait 
 public charities, methinks, should be considered as 
 standing open to proposals for it ; that the whole plan of 
 them, in all its parts, may be brought to as great perfec- 
 tion as is possible. Now it should seem, that employing 
 some share of the children's time in easy labour, suitable 
 to their age, which is done in some of our charity schools, 
 might be done in most others of them, with very good 
 effect; as it is in all those of a neighbouring kingdom. 
 Then as the only purposes of punishments less than 
 
 * As it is of vpry parliciilar l)pnf-fit to thosp, wlio oiijrht alwnys to Iip liuikiil ii|ic>ii 
 Willi [jartlciilar fivoiir liy lis, I im an our si-hiiii'ii ; hi likcwisr it is of vny i xicn-ivi' 
 beiiffit to ttie largftracis of country wfst anil iiorLli of it TIk'ii tlir uifilcin: I waiirs 
 IicHr till' city rcnricr it a still nion- proper siliuilioii for an iiifii-nuiry. And m) t'.ki w'i^k 
 does its iieigliliourJKHid to ttie Hath Ijospital. For it may will l)p supposiil, tliatMiini* 
 poor olijpcts will l)p spnt Uiitlipr in liopis of n lipf from tin- BaLli wan rs, wIkkp c.sp 
 may al'trrwanls bp found to rii]iiirp the assistaiipp of physic (»• Mn'gpry : iind on tise 
 otiipr haiiil, that soir.p may be spiit l<> our intiiniary for lirip from ilinsp i.rLs, wljisp 
 cisp may Iip foiiiiil torpqiiirp thp Baili walirs. .So ihat if I am not (•rpatly pun al, 
 the Brintol infirniaiy as much dpsprvps pncoiinigpuniit as any cliariiablp fuuiidatioii ni 
 the kingdom. f Hpb. x. H. % J'hil. i. 18. 
 
208 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE 
 
 capital are to reform the offenders themselves, and warn 
 the innocent by their example, every thing which should 
 contribute to make this kind of pimishments answer these 
 purposes better than it does, would be a great improve- 
 ment. And whether it be not a thing practicable, and 
 what would contribute somewhat towards it, to exclude 
 utterly all sorts of revel-mirth from places where offenders 
 are confined, to separate the young from the old, and 
 force them both, in solitude, with labour and low diet, to 
 make the experiment, how far their natural strength of 
 mind can support them under guilt and shartie and 
 poverty; this may deserve consideration. Then again, 
 some religious instruction particularly adapted to their 
 condition would as properly accompany those punishments 
 which are intended to reform, as it does capital ones. 
 God forbid that I should be understood to discourage the 
 provision which is made for it in this latter case: I 
 heartily wish it were better than it is ; especially since it 
 may well be supposed, as the state of religion is at present 
 among us, that some condemned malefactors may have 
 never had the doctrine of the gospel enforced upon their 
 consciences. But since it must be acknowledged of 
 greater consequence, in a religious as well as civil respect, 
 how persons live, than how they die; it cannot but be 
 even more incumbent on us to endeavour, in all ways, to 
 reclaim those offenders who are to return again into the 
 world, than those who are to be removed out of it : and 
 the only effectual means of reclaiming them, is to instil 
 into them a principle of religion. If persons of authority 
 and influence would take things of this and a like kind 
 under' their consideration, they might perhaps still 
 improve those charities ; which are already, I truly believe, 
 under a better management than any other of so large a 
 compass in the world. But, 
 
 4. With regard to the two particular branches of them 
 last mentioned, I would observe, that our laws and whole 
 constitution, civil and ecclesiastical, go more upon sup- 
 position of an equality amongst mankind, than the 
 constitution and laws of other countries. Now this 
 plainly requires that more particular regard should be 
 had to the education of the lower people here, than in 
 
THE LOKD MAYOR, ETC. 209 
 
 places, where they are born slaves of power, and to be 
 made slaves of superstition. It is, I suppose, acknowledged, 
 that they have greater liberty here, than they have any 
 where else in the world. But unless care be taken for 
 giving them some inward principle, to prevent their abus- 
 ing this greater liberty which is their birthright, can we 
 expect it will prove a blessing to them.P or will they not 
 in all probability become more dissolute, or more wild 
 and extravagant, whatever wrong turn they happen to 
 take, than people of the same rank in other countries R 
 
 5. Let me again remind you of the additional reason, 
 which persons of fortune have to take particular care of 
 their whole behaviour, that it be in all respects good and 
 -exemplary, upon account of the influence which it will 
 have upon the manners of their inferiors. And pray 
 observe how strictly this is connected with the occasion 
 of our present meeting; how much your good behaviour 
 in private life will contribute to promote the good design 
 of all these charities ; and how much the contrary would 
 tend to defeat it, and even to produce the evils which 
 they are intended to prevent or to remedy. Whatever 
 care be taken in the education of these poor children at 
 school, there is always danger of their being corrupted, 
 when they come from it. And this danger is greater, in 
 proportion to the greater wickedness of the age they are 
 to pass through. But if, upon their coming abroad into 
 the world, they find the principles of virtue and religion 
 recommended by the example of their superiors, and vice 
 and irreligion really discountenanced, this will confirm 
 them in the good principles in which they have been 
 brought up, and give the best ground to hope they will 
 never depart from them. And the like is to be said of 
 offenders, who may have had a sense of virtue and 
 religion wrought in them, under the discipline of labour 
 and confinement. Again ; dissolute and debauched 
 persons of fortune greatly increase the general corruption 
 of manners; and this is what increases want and misery 
 of all kinds. So that they may contribute largely to any 
 or all of these charities, and yet undo but a very small 
 part of the mischief which they do, by their example, as 
 well as in other ways. But still this mischief which they 
 
 o 
 
210 A SERMON, ETC. 
 
 do, suppose by their example, is an additional reason" 
 why they should contribute to them; even in justice to- 
 particular persons, in whose ruin they may have an 
 unknown share of guilt; or however injustice to society 
 in general; for which they will deserve commendation, 
 liow blameable soever they are for the other. And 
 mdeed amidst the dark prospect before us, from that 
 profligateness of manners, and scorn of religion, which 
 so generally abound, this good spirit of charity to the 
 poor discovering itself in so great a degree, upon these 
 occasions, and likewise in the late necessitous time, 
 even amongst persons far from being blameless in other 
 respects ; this cannot but afford hopes, that we are not 
 given over by Providence, and also that they themselves 
 will at length consider, and not go on contributing, by 
 the example of their vices, to the introduction of that 
 distress, which they so commendably relieve b)' their 
 liberality. 
 
 To conclude: Let our charity towards men be exalted 
 into piety towards God, from the serious consideration, 
 that we are all his creatures; a consideration which 
 enforces that duty upon our consciences, as we have any 
 regard to him. This kind of adjuration, and a most 
 solemn one it is, one often hears profaned by a very 
 imworthy sort of people, when they ask relief /or God\ 
 sake. But surely the principle itself, which contains in 
 it every thing great, and just, and good, is grievously 
 forgotten among us. To relieve the poor /or God's sake^ 
 is to do it in conformity to the order of nature, and to- 
 his will, and his example, who is the Author and Gover- 
 nor of it; and in thankful remembrance, that all we 
 have is from his bounty. It is to do it in his behalf, and 
 as to him. For he that hath pity upon the poor lendeth 
 unto the Lord:* and our Saviour has declared, that he 
 will take as given to himself, what is given in a well- 
 chosen charity .t Lastly, it is to do it under a sense of 
 the account which will be required of what is committed 
 to our trust, when the rich and poor, who meet here upon 
 terms of so great inequality, shall meet hereafter upon a 
 level, before hitn who is the Maker of them all. 
 
 » Prnv. xix. 17. f Matt. xxv. 40. 
 
A SERMON, ETC. 211 
 
 SERMON III. 
 
 TkEACHED BEFORE THE HOUSE OF LORDS, IN THE ABBEY-CHURCH OF WEST- 
 MINSTER, ON FRIDAY, JANUARY 30, 1740-41, BEING THE DAY APPOINTED TO 
 BE OBSERVED AS THE DAY OF THE MARTYRDOM OF KING CHARLES L 
 
 And not using your liberty for a cloak of maliciousness, hut as the 
 servants of God. — 1 Peter ii. IG. 
 
 A HISTORY so full of important and interesting events as 
 that which this day recalls annually to our thoughts, 
 cannot but afford them very different subjects for their 
 most serious and useful employment. But there seems 
 none which it more naturally leads us to consider than 
 that of hypocrisy, as it sets before us so many examples 
 of it; or which will yield us more practical instruction, 
 as these examples so forcibly admonish us, not only to 
 be upon our guard against the pernicious effects of this 
 vice in others, but also to watch over our own hearts, 
 against every thing of the like kind in ourselves: for 
 hypocrisy, in the moral and religious consideration of 
 things, is of much larger extent than every one may 
 imagine. 
 
 In common language, which is formed upon the com- 
 mon intercourses amongst men, hypocrisy signifies little 
 more than their pretending what they really do not 
 mean, in order to delude one another. But in Scripture, 
 which treats chiefly of our behaviour towards God and 
 our own consciences, it signifies, not only the endeavour 
 to delude our fellow creatures, but likewise insincerity 
 towards him, and towards ourselves. And therefore, 
 according to the whole analogy of Scripture language, 
 to use liberty as a cloak of maliciousness * must be under- 
 
 * The hypocrisy laid to the charge of the Pharisees and Sadducees, in Matt. xvi. at 
 the beginning, and in Luke xii. 54, is determinately this, that thfir vicious passions 
 blinded thcm°so as to prevent tlieir discerning the evidence of our Siiviour's mission ; 
 though no more understanding was necessary to discern it, tlian what tlii'y liad, ancli 
 made use of in common matters. Here lliey are called hypocrites men^ly npoui 
 account of their insincerity towards God and their own consciences, and not at iili 
 upon account of any insincerity towanis men. This last indeed is included in tliat 
 general hypocrisy, wliicli, throughout the gospels, Is repre.sented as their ilistinguishedi 
 character ; but the former is as much included. For they were not men, wim, without 
 any belief at all of religion, put on the appearance of it only in order to deceive the 
 Vurld : on Uie contrary, they believed their religion, and were zealous in it. But theie 
 
 02 
 
212 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE 
 
 stood to mean, not only endeavouring to impose upon 
 others, by indulging wayward passions, or carrying on 
 indirect designs, under pretences of it; but also excusing 
 and palliating such things to ourselves ; serving ourselves 
 of such pretences to quiet our own minds in any thing 
 w^hich is wrong. 
 
 Liberty in the writings of the New Testament, for the 
 most part, signifies, being delivered from the bondage of 
 the ceremonial law; or of sin and the devil, which St 
 Paul calls tlie glorious liberty of the children of God.* 
 This last is a progressive state: and the perfection of it,, 
 whether attainable in this world or not, consists in that 
 perfect l(yve,\ which St John speaks of; and which, as it 
 implies an entire coincidence of our wills with the will 
 of God, must be a state of the most absohite freedom, in 
 the most literal and proper sense. But whatever St 
 Peter distinctly meant by this word, liberty, the text gives 
 occasion to consider any kind of it, which is liable to the 
 abuse he here warns us against. However, it appears 
 that he meant to comprehend that liberty, were it more 
 
 religion, which they believed, and were zealous in, was in its nature hypocritical : 
 for it was the form, not the reality; it allowed them. in immoral practices; and 
 indeed was itself in some respects immoral, as they indulged their pride and uncha- 
 ritableness under the notion of zeal for it. See Jer. ix. 6, Psalm Ixxviii. 36. Job iii. 19. 
 and Matt. xv. 7 — 14. and xxiii. 13, 16, 19, 21, 26. where hypocrite and blind are Ubed 
 promiscuously. Again, the Scripture speaks of the deceitfttiness of sin; and its 
 deceivmg those who are guilty of it : Heb. iii. 13. Eph. iv. 2-i. Rom. vii. 11. of men's 
 acting as if they could deceive and mock God: Is. xxix. 15. Acts v. 3. Gal. vi. 7. of 
 their blinding their own eyes: Matt. iii. 15. Acts xxviii. 27. and deceiving themselves; 
 which is quite a diiferent thing froin being deceived. 1 Cor. iii. 18. I John i. 8. 
 Galatians vi. 3. James i. 22, 26. Many more coincident passages might be men- 
 tioned : but I will add only one. In 2 Thess. ii. it is foretold that by means of some 
 force, some energy of delusion, men should believe the lie which is there treated of: 
 this /orce of delusion is not any thing without them, but somewhat within them, which 
 it is expressly said they should bring upon themselves, by not receiving the love of the 
 truth, but having pleasure in unrighteousness. Answering to all this is tliat very 
 remarkable passage of our Lord, Matt. vi. 22, 23. Luke xi. 34, 35. and that admoni- 
 tion repeated fourteen times in the New Testament ; He that hath ears to hear, let 
 him hear. And the ground of this whole manner of considering things; for it is v.nl 
 to be spoken of as only a peculiar kind of phraseology, but is a most accurate and 
 strictly just manner of considering characters and moral conduct ; the ground of it 
 I say, is, that when persons will not be influenced by snch evidence in religion iis 
 they act upon in the daily course of life, or when their notions of religion^and I 
 might add of viaue) are in any sort reconcileable with what is vicious, it is some 
 faulty negligence or prejudice which tlius deludes them ; in very different \rays, 
 perhaps, and very different degrees. But when any one is thus deluded through his 
 own fault, in whatever way or degree it is, he deludes himself. And this is as pro- 
 perly hypocrisy towards himself, as deluding the world is liypocrisy towards iIih 
 world: and he who is guilty of it acts as if lie could deceive and mock God ; and 
 therefore is an hypocrite towards him, in as strict and literal a sense as the nature k£ 
 the subject will admit. 
 
 * Rom. viii. 21. •f 1 John iv. 18. 
 
THE HOUSE OF LORDS. 213 
 
 or less, which they to whom he was writing enjoyed under 
 civil government: for of civil government he is speaking 
 just before and afterwards: Submit yourselves to every 
 ordinance of man for the Lord's sake: whether it be to the 
 king, as supreme; or unto governors, as unto them that are 
 sent by him. For so is the will of God, that witl^ well- 
 doing, of which dutiful behaviour towards authority is a 
 very material instance, ye may put to silence the ignorance 
 of foolish men:* as free, perhaps in distinction from the 
 servile state, of which he speaks afterwards, and not 
 using your liberty for a cloak of maliciousness,^ of any 
 thing wrong, for so the word signifies; and therefore 
 comprehends petulance, affection of popularity, with any 
 other like frivolous turn of mind, as well as the more 
 hateful and dangerous passions, such as malice, or am- 
 bition; for all of which liberty may equally be used as a 
 cloak. The apostle adds, but as the servants of God: as 
 free — but as his servants, who requires dutiful submission 
 to every ordinance of man, to magistracy; and to whom 
 we are accountable for our manner of using the liberty 
 we enjoy under it; as well as for all other parts of our 
 behaviour. Not using your liberty as a cloak of malici- 
 ousness, but as the servants of God. 
 
 Here are three things offered to our consideration: 
 First, A general supposition, that what is wrong cannot 
 be avowed in its proper colours, but stands in need of 
 some cloak to be thrown over it: Secondly, A particular 
 one, that there is danger, some singular danger, of liberty's 
 being made use of for this purpose: Lastly, An admoni- 
 tion not to make this ill use of our liberty, but to use it 
 as the servants of God. 
 
 I. Here is a general supposition, that what is wrong 
 cannot be avowed in its proper colours, but stands in 
 need of some cloak to be thrown over it. God has 
 constituted our nature, and the nature of society, after 
 such a manner, that generally speaking, men cannot 
 encourage or support themselves in wickedness upon the 
 foot of there being no difference between right and wrong, 
 or by a direct avowal of wrong; but by disguising it, and 
 endeavouring to spread over it some colours of right. 
 
 * 1 Pet. ii. 13—15. f Ver. 16. 
 
214 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE 
 
 And they do this in every capacity and every respect, 
 in which there is a right or a wrong. They do it, not 
 only as social creatures under civil government, but also 
 as moral agents under the government of God ; in one 
 case to make a proper figure in the world, and delude 
 their fellow creatures ; in the other to keep peace within 
 themselves, and delude their own consciences. And the 
 delusion in both cases being voluntary, is, in Scripture, 
 called by one name, and spoken against in the same 
 manner: though doubtless they are much more explicit 
 with themselves, and more distinctly conscious of what 
 they are about, in one case than in the other. 
 
 The fundamental laws of all governments are virtuous 
 ones, prohibiting treachery, injustice, cruelty: and the 
 law of reputation enforces those civil laws, by rendering 
 these vices everywhere infamous, and the contrary 
 virtues honourable and of good report. Thus far the 
 constitution of society is visibly moral: and hence it is, 
 that men cannot live in it without taking care to cover 
 those vices when they have them, and make some 
 profession of the opposite virtues, fidelity, justice, kind 
 regard to others, when they have them not: but espe- 
 cially is this necessary in order to disguise and colour 
 over indirect purposes, which require the concurrence 
 of several persons. 
 
 Now all false pretences of this kind are to be called 
 hypocritical, as being contrary to simplicity; though not 
 always designed, properly speaking, to beget a false 
 belief For it is to be observed, that they are often 
 made without any formal intention to have them be- 
 heved, or to have it thought that there is any reality 
 under these pretences. Many examples occur of verbal 
 professions of fidelity, justice, public regards, in cases 
 where there could be no imagination of their being 
 believed. And what other account can be given of 
 these merely verbal professions, but that they were 
 thought the proper language for the public ear; and 
 made in business for the very same kind of reasons as 
 civility is kept up in conversation ? 
 
 These false professions of virtue, which men have, in 
 all ages, found it necessary to make their appearance 
 
THE HOUSE OF LORDS. 215 
 
 'with abroad, must have been originally taken up in 
 ".order to deceive in the proper sense: then they became 
 habitual, and often intended merely by way of form: 
 yet often still, to serve their original purpose of 
 deceiving. 
 
 There is doubtless amongst mankind a great deal of 
 ihis hypocrisy towards each other: but not so much as 
 may sometimes be supposed. For part which has, at 
 first sight, this appearance, is in reality that jather 
 hypocrisy before mentioned; that self-deceit, of which 
 the Scripture so remarkably takes notice. There are 
 indeed persons who live without God in the world: * and 
 some appear so hardened as to keep no measures with 
 tliemselves. But as very ill men may have a real and 
 strong sense of virtue and religion, in proportion as this 
 is the case with any, they cannot be easy within 
 themselves but by deluding their consciences. And 
 though they should, in great measure, get over their 
 religion, yet this will not do. For as long as, they carry 
 -about with them any such sense of things, as makes 
 them condemn what is wrong in others, they could not 
 but condemn the same in themselves, and dislike and 
 be disgusted with their own character and conduct, if 
 ' they would consider them distinctly, and in a full light. 
 But this sometimes they carelessly neglect to do, and 
 sometimes carefully avoid doing. And as the integrity 
 of the upright guides him,\ guides even a man's judgment: 
 so wickedness may distort it to such a degree, as that 
 he may call evil good, and good evil; put darkness for 
 light, and light for darkness ;X and think ^wickedly, thai 
 God is such an one as himself^ Even the better sort of 
 men are, in some degree, liable to disguise and palliate 
 their failings to themselves: but perhaps there are few 
 men who go on calmly in a course of very bad things, 
 without somewhat of the kind now described in a very 
 >high degree. They try appearances upon themselves as 
 well as upon the world, and with at least as much 
 success; and choose to manage so as to make their own 
 minds easy with their faults, which can scarce be without 
 -management, rather than to mend them. 
 
 • Eph. ii. li". t Pro^- xi. 3. J Isa. .. 20. § Psalm 1. 21. 
 
213 A SERMON PREACHED BKFORE 
 
 But whether from men's deluding themselves, or from. 
 their intending to delude the world, it is evident scarce 
 any thing wrong in public has ever been accomplished,, 
 or even attempted, but under false colours: either by 
 pretending one thing, which was right, to be designed, 
 when it was really another thing, which was wrong; or 
 if that which was wrong was avowed, by endeavouring 
 to give it some appearance of right. For tyranny, and 
 factioja so friendly to it, and which is indeed tyranny out 
 of power, and unjust wars, and persecution, by which 
 the earth has been laid waste ; all this has all along been 
 carried on with pretences of truth, right, general good» 
 So it is, men cannot find in their heart to join in such 
 things, without such honest words to be the bond of the 
 union, though they know among themselves, that they 
 are only words, and often though they know, that every 
 body else knows it too. 
 
 These observations might be exemplified by numerous 
 instances in the history which led to them : and without 
 them it is impossible to understand in any sort the 
 general character of the chief actors in it, who were 
 engaged in the black design of subverting the constitution 
 of their country. This they completed with the most 
 enormous act of mere power, in defiance of all laws of 
 God and man, and in express contradiction to the real 
 design and public votes of that assembly, whose 
 commission, they professed, was their only warrant for 
 any thing they did throughout the whole rebellion. Yet 
 with unheard-of hypocrisy towards men, towards God 
 and their own^onsciences, for without such a complica- 
 tion of it their conduct is inexplicable ; even this action, 
 which so little admitted of any cloak, was, we know, 
 contrived and carried into execution, under pretences of 
 authority, religion, liberty, and by profaning the forms 
 of justice in an arraignment and trial, like to what is 
 used in regular legal procedures. No age indeed can 
 show an example of hypocrisy parallel to this. But the 
 history of all ages and all countries will show, what has 
 been really going forward over the face of the eartl^, to 
 be very different from what has been always pretended; 
 and that virtue has been every where professed much^ 
 
THE HOUSE OF LORDS. 217 
 
 more than it has been any where practised; nor could 
 society, from the very nature of its constitution, subsist 
 without some general public profession of it. Thus the 
 face and appearance which the world has in all times put 
 on, for the ease and ornament of life, and in pursuit ot' 
 further ends, is the justest satire upon what has in all 
 times been carrying on under it : and ill men are destined, 
 by the condition of their being as social creatures, always 
 to bear about with them, and, in different degrees, to 
 profess, that law of virtue, by which they shall finally be 
 judged and condemned. 
 
 II. As fair pretences, of one sort or other, have thus 
 always been made use of by mankind to colour over 
 indirect and wrong designs from the world, and to palliate 
 and excuse them to their own minds; liberty, in common 
 with all other good^hings, is liable to be made this use of,^ 
 and is also liable to it in a way more peculiar to itself: 
 which was the second thing to be considered. 
 
 In the history which this day refers us to, we find our 
 constitution, in Church and State, destroyed under 
 pretences, not only of religion, but of securing liberty, 
 and carrying it to a greater height. The destruction of 
 the former was with zeal of such a kind, as would not 
 have been warrantable, though it had been employed in 
 the destruction "of heathenism. And the confusions, the 
 persecuting spirit, and incredible fanaticism, which grew 
 up upon its ruins, cannot but teach sober-minded men to 
 reverence so mild and reasonable an establishment, now 
 it is restored; for the preservation of Christianity, and 
 keeping up a sense of it amongst us, and for the instruc- 
 tion and guide of the ignorant; nay were it only for 
 guarding religion from such extravagances: especially 
 as these important purposes are served by it without being 
 hard in the least upon any. 
 
 And the concurrent course of things, which brought 
 on the ruin of our civil constitution, and what followed 
 upon it, are no less instructive. The opposition, by legal 
 and parliamentary methods, to prerogatives unknown to 
 the constitution, was doubtless formed upon the justest 
 fears in behalf of it. But new distrusts arose: new 
 causes were given for them : these were most unreasonably 
 
218 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE 
 
 aggravated. The better part gradually gave way to the 
 more violent: and the better part themselves seem to 
 have insisted upon impracticable securities against that 
 one danger to liberty, of which they had too great cause 
 to be apprehensive; and wonderfully overlooked all 
 dangers to it, which yet were, and ever will be, many and 
 great. Thus they joined in the current measures, till 
 they were utterly unable to stop the mischiefs, to which, 
 with too much distrust on one side, and too little on the 
 other, they had contributed. Never was a more 
 remarkable example of the Wise Man's observation, that 
 the beginning of strife is as when one letteth out water.* 
 For this opposition, thus begun, surely without intent of 
 proceeding to violence ; yet, as it went on, like an over- 
 flowing stream in its progress, it collected all sort of 
 impurities, and grew more outrageoij^ as it grew more 
 corrupted ; till at length it bore down every thing good 
 before it. This naturally brought on arbitrary power in 
 one shape, which was odious to every body, and which 
 could not be accommodated to the forms of, our constitu=- 
 tion ; and put us in the utmost danger of having it entailed 
 upon us under another, which might. For at the king's 
 return, such was the just indignation of the public at 
 what it had seen, and fear of feeling again what it had 
 felt, from the popular side; such the depression and 
 compliance, not only of the more guilty, but also of those, 
 who with better meaning had gone on with them; and a 
 great deal too far many of this character had gone ; and 
 such the undistinguishing distrust the people had of 
 them all, that the chief security of our liberties seems to 
 have been, their not being attempted at that time. 
 
 But though persons contributed to all this mischief 
 and danger with different degrees, of guilt, none could 
 contribute to them with innocence, who at all knew' 
 what they were about. Indeed the destruction of a frefc 
 constitution of government, though men see or fancy 
 many defects in it, and whatever they design or pretend, 
 ought not to be thought of without horror. For the de- 
 sign is in itself unjust, since it is romantic to suppose it 
 legal: it cannot be prosecuted without the most wicked 
 
 • Prov. xvii. 14. 
 
THE HOUSE OF LORDS. 219 
 
 means; nor accomplished but with the present ruin of 
 liberty, religious as well as civil ; for it must be the ruin 
 of its present security. Whereas the restoration of it 
 must depend upon a thousand future contingencies, the 
 integrity, understanding, power of the persons, into 
 whose hands anarchy and confusion should throw things ; 
 and who they will be, the history before us may surely 
 serve to show, no human foresight can determine ; even 
 though such, a terrible crisis were to happen in an age, 
 not distinguished for the want of principle and public 
 spirit, and when nothing particular were to be appre- 
 hended from abroad. It would be partiality to say, that 
 no constitution of government can possibly be imagined 
 more perfect than our own. And ingenuous youth may 
 be warmed with the idea of one, against which nothing 
 can be objected. But it is the strongest objection against 
 attempting to put in practice the most perfect theory, that 
 it is impracticable, or too dangerous to be attempted. 
 And whoever will thoroughly consider, in what degree 
 mankind are really influenced by reason, and in what 
 degree by custom, may, I think, be convinced, that the 
 state of human affairs does not even admit of an equiva- 
 lent for the mischief of setting things afloat; and the 
 danger of parting with those securities of liberty, which 
 arise from regulations of long prescription and ancient 
 usage; especially at a time when the directors q.re so 
 very numerous, and the obedient so few. Reasonable 
 men therefore will look upon the general plan of our 
 constitution, transmitted down to us by our ancestors, as 
 sacred; and content themselves with calmly doing what 
 their station requires, towards rectifying the particular 
 things which they think amiss, and supplying the parti- 
 cular things which they think deficient in it, so far as is 
 practicable without endangering the whole. 
 
 But liberty is in many other dangers from itself, be- 
 sides those which arise from formed designs of destroying 
 it, under hypocritical pretences, or romantic schemes of 
 restoring it upon a more perfect plan. It is particularly 
 liable to become excessive, and to degenerate insensibly 
 into licentiousness; in the same manner as liberality, 
 for example, is apt to degenerate into extravagance. 
 
220 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE 
 
 And as men cloak their extravagance to themselves 
 under the notion of liberality, and to the world under 
 the name of it, so licentiousness passes under the name 
 and notion of hberty. Now it is to be observed, that 
 there is, in some respects or other, a very peculiar 
 contrariety between those vices which consist in excess, 
 and the virtues of which they are said to be the excess,, 
 and the resemblance, and whose names they affect to 
 bear; the excess of any thing being always to its hurt, 
 and tending to its destruction. In this manner licen- 
 tiousness is, in its very nature, a present infringement 
 upon liberty, and dangerous to it for the future. Yet it 
 is treated by many persons with peculiar indulgence 
 under this very notion, as being an excess of liberty. 
 And an excess of liberty it is to the licentious them- 
 selves : but what is it to those who suffer by them, and 
 who do not think, that amends is at all made them by 
 having it left in their power to retaliate safely ? When 
 by popular insurrections, or defamatory libels, or in any 
 like way, the needy and the turbulent securely injure 
 quiet people in their fortune or good name, so far quiet 
 people are no more free than if a single tyrant used them 
 thus. A particular man maybe licentious without being 
 less free : but a community cannot ; since the licentious- 
 ness of one will unavoidably break in upon the liberty 
 of another. Civil liberty, the liberty of a community, is 
 a severe and a restrained thing ; implies in the notion of 
 it, authority, settled subordinations, subjection, and obe- 
 dience ; and is altogether as much hurt by too little of 
 this kind, as by too much of it. And the love of liberty, 
 when it is indeed the love of liberty, which carries us to 
 withstand tyranny, will as much carry us to reverence 
 authority, and support it ; for this most obvious reason, 
 that one is as necessary to the very being of liberty, as 
 the other is destructive of it. And therefore the love of 
 liberty, which does not produce this effect ; the love ot 
 liberty, which is not a real principle of dutiful behaviour- 
 towards authority ; is as hypocritical, as the religion 
 which is not productive of a good life. Licentiousness 
 is, in truth, such an excess of liberty as is of the same 
 nature with tyranny. For what is the difference between 
 
THE HOUSE OF LORDS. 221 
 
 them, but that one is lawless power exercised under pre- 
 tence of authority, or by persons invested with it ; the 
 other lawless power exercised under pretence of liberty, 
 or without any pretence at all? A people then must 
 always be less free in proportion as they are more licen- 
 tious ; licentiousness being not only different from liberty, 
 but directly contrary to it ; a direct breach upon it. 
 
 It is moreover of a growing nature; and of speedy 
 growth too; and, with the culture which it has amongst 
 us, needs no great length of time to get to such a height 
 as no legal government will be able to restrain, or sub- 
 sist under : which is the condition the historian describes 
 in saying, they could neither bear their vices, nor the 
 remedies of them.* I said legal government : for, in the 
 present state of the world, there is no danger of our be- 
 coming savages. Had licentiousness finished its work, 
 and destroyed our constitution, power would not be 
 wanting, from one quarter or another, sufficient to sub- 
 due us, and keep us in subjection. But government, as 
 distinguished from mere power, free government, neces- 
 sarily implies reverence in the subjects of it, for autho- 
 rity, or power regulated by laws ; and an habit of submis- 
 sion to the subordinations in civil life, throughout its 
 several ranks : nor is a people capable of liberty without 
 somewhat of this kind. But it must be observed, and 
 less surely cannot be observed, this reverence and sub- 
 mission will at best be very precarious, if it be not 
 founded upon a sense of authority being God's ordin- 
 ance, and the subordinations' in life a providential ap- 
 pointment of things. Now let it be considered, for surely 
 it is not duly considered, what is really the short amount 
 of those representations, which persons of superior rank 
 give, and encourage to be given of each other, and which 
 are spread over the nation. f* Is it not somewhat, in 
 itself, and in its circumstances, beyond any thing in any 
 other age or country of the world ? And what effect 
 must the continuance of this extravagant licentiousness 
 in them, not to mention other kinds of it, have upon the 
 people in those respects just mentioned? Must it not 
 necessarily tend to wear out of their minds all reverence 
 
 * Nee vitia nostra, nee remedia pati possumus. — Liv. lib. i. c. 1. 
 
222 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE 
 
 for authority, and respect for superiors of every sort ; 
 and, joined with the irreligious principles we find so in- 
 dustriously propagated, to introduce a total profligateness 
 amongst them ; since, let them be as bad as they will, 
 it is scarce possible they can be so bad as they are in- 
 structed they may be, or worse than they are told their 
 superiors are? And is there no danger that all this, to 
 mention only one supposable course of it, may raise 
 sorhewhat like that levelling spirit, upon atheistical prin- 
 ciples, which, in the last age, prevailed upon enthusiastic 
 ones? not to speak of the possibility, that different sorts 
 of people may unite in it upon these contrary principles. 
 And may not this spirit, together w^ith a concurrence of 
 ill humours, and of persons who hope to find their ac- 
 count in confusion, soon prevail to such a degree, as will 
 require more of the good old principles of loyalty and of 
 religion to withstand it, than appear to be left amongst us? 
 
 What legal remedies can be provided against these 
 mischiefs, or whether any at all, are considerations the 
 farthest from my thoughts. No government can be 
 free, which is not administered by general stated laws: 
 and these cannot comprehend every case, which wants 
 to be provided against: nor can new ones be made for 
 every particular case, as it arises: and more particular 
 laws, as well as more general ones, admit of infinite 
 evasions: and legal government forbids any but legal 
 methods of redress; which cannot but be liable to the 
 same sort of imperfections: besides the additional. one 
 of delay; and whilst redress is delayed, however un- 
 avoidably, wrong subsists. Then there are very bad' 
 things, which human authority can scarce provide 
 against at all, but by methods dangerous to liberty ; nor 
 fully, but by such as would be fatal to it. These things 
 show, that liberty, in the very nature of it, absolutely 
 requires, an& even supposes, that people be able to 
 govern themselves in those respects in which they are 
 free; otherwise their wickedness will be in proportioi. 
 to their liberty, and this greatest of blessings will beconu 
 a curse. 
 
 III. These things sliow likewise, that there is but 
 one adequate remedy to the forementioned evils, even 
 
THE HOUSE OP LORDS. 223 
 
 that which the apostle prescribes in the last words of 
 the text, to consider ourselves as the servants of God, 
 who enjoins dutiful submission to civil authority, as' his 
 ordinance; and to whom we are accountable for the use 
 we make of the liberty which we enjoy under it. Since 
 men cannot live out of society, nor in it without govern- 
 ment, government is plainly a divine appointment; and 
 consequently submission ; to it, a most evident duty of 
 the law of nature. And we all know in how forcible a 
 manner it is put upon our consciences in Scripture. 
 Nor can this obhgation be denied formally upon any 
 principles, but such as subvert all other obligations. 
 Yet many amongst us seem not to consider it as any 
 obligation at all. This doubtless is, in a great measure, 
 owing to dissoluteness and corruption of manners: but 
 I think it is partly owing to their having reduced it to 
 nothing in theory. Whereas this obligation ought to be 
 put upon the same foot v?ith all other general ones, 
 which are not absolute and without exception : and our 
 submission is due in all cases but those, which we really 
 discern to be exceptions to the general rule. And they 
 who are perpetually displaying the exceptions, though 
 they do not indeed contradict the meaning of any parti- 
 cular texts of Scripture, which surely intended to make 
 no alteration in men's civil rights; yet they go against 
 the general tenor of Scripture. For the Scripture, 
 throughout the whole of it, commands submission ; 
 supposing men apt enough of themselves to make the 
 exceptions, and not to need being continually reminded 
 of them. Now if we are really under any obligations of 
 duty at all to magistrates, honour and respect, in our 
 behaviour towards them, must doubtless be their due. 
 And they who refuse to pay them this small and easy 
 regard, who despise dominion, and speak evil of dignities,* 
 should seriously ask themselves, what restrains them 
 from any other instance whatever of utidutifulness ? 
 And if it be principle, why not from this ? Indeed free 
 government supposes, that the conduct of affairs may be 
 inquired into, and spoken of with freedom. Yet surely 
 this should be done with decency, for the sake of liberty 
 
 * Jude 8. 
 
224 A SERMON PREACHED 
 
 itself; for its honour and its security. But be it done 
 as it will, it is a very different thing from libeUing, and 
 endeavouring to vilify the persons of such as are in 
 authority. It will be hard to find an instance, in which 
 a serious man could calmly satisfy himself in doing this 
 It is in no case necessary, and in every case of very 
 pernicious tendency. But the immorahty of it increases 
 in proportion to the integrity and superior rank of the 
 persons thus treated. It is therefore in the highest 
 degree immoral, when it extends to the supreme autho- 
 rity in the person of a prince, from whom our liberties 
 are in no imaginable danger, whatever they may be 
 from ourselves ; and whose mild and strictly legal 
 government could not but make any virtuous people 
 happy. 
 
 A free government, which the good providence of 
 God has preserved to us through innumerable dangers, 
 is an invaluable blessing. And our ingratitude to him 
 in abusing of it must be great in proportion to the great- 
 ness of the blessing, and the providential deliverances 
 by which it has been preserved to us. Yet the crime of 
 abusing this blessing receives further aggravation from 
 hence, that such abuse always is to the reproach, and 
 tends to the ruin of it. The abuse of liberty has directly 
 overturned many free governments, as well as our own, 
 on the popular side; and has, in various ways, contributed 
 to the ruin of many, which have been overturned on the 
 side of authority. Heavy therefore must be their guilt, 
 who shall be found to have given such advantages against 
 it, as well as theirs who have taken them. 
 
 Lastly, The consideration, that we are the servants of 
 God, reminds us, that we are accountable to him for our 
 behaviour in those respects, in which it is out of the 
 reach of all human authority; and is the strongest 
 enforcement of sincerity, as all things are naked and open 
 unto the eyes of him with whom we have to do* Artificial 
 behaviour might perhaps avail much towards quieting 
 our consciences, and making our part good in the short 
 competitions of this world: but what will it avail us 
 considered as under the government of God? Under 
 
 * Heb. iv. 13. 
 
AT CHRIST-CHURCH, LONDON. 225 
 
 his government, there is no darkness, nor shadow of death, 
 where the workers of iniquity may hide themselves* He 
 has indeed instituted civil government over the face of 
 the earth, for the punishment of evil-doers, and for the 
 praise, the apostle does not say the rewarding, but, for 
 the praise of them that do wellA Yet as the worst answer 
 these ends in some measure, the best can do it very 
 imperfectly. Civil government can by no means take 
 cognizance of every work, which is good or evil ; many 
 things are done in secret; the authors unknown to it, 
 and often the things themselves: then it cannot so much 
 consider actions, under the view of their being morally 
 good, or evil, as under the view of their being mischievous, 
 or beneficial to society: nor can it in any wise execute 
 judgment in rewarding what is good, as it can, and ought, 
 and does, in punishing what is evil. But God shall bring 
 every work into judgment, with every secret thing, whether 
 it be good, or whether it be evil.t 
 
 SERMON IV. 
 
 PREACHED IN THE PARISH CHURCH OF CHRIST-CHURCH, LONDON, ON 
 THURSDAY, MAY D, 1745, BEING THE TIME OF THE YEARLY MEETING 
 ae THE CHILDREN EDUCATED IN THE CHARITY-SCHOOLS IN AND ABOUT 
 THE CITIES OF LONDON AND WESTMINSTER. 
 
 Train up a child in the way lie should go : and when he is old, he 
 will not depart from it. — Prov. xxii. 6. 
 
 Human creatures, from the constitution of their nature 
 and the circumstances in which they are placed, cannot 
 but acquire habits, during their childhood, by the impres- 
 sions which are given them, and their own customary 
 actions. And long before they arrive at mature age, 
 these habits form a general settled character. And the 
 observation of the text, that the most early habits are 
 usually the most lasting, is likewise every one's observa- 
 tion. Now whenever children are left to themselves, 
 and to the guides and companions which they choose, or 
 by hazard light upon, we find by experience, that the first 
 
 * Job xxxiv. 22. 1 1 ?«'• "■ 14> t Eccles. xii, 14. 
 
 P 
 
226 A SERMON PREACHED 
 
 impressions they take, and course of action they get into^ 
 are very bad ; and so consequently must be their habits,, 
 and character, and future behaviour. Thus if they are 
 not trained up in the way they should go, they will 
 certainly be trained up in the way they should not go; 
 and in all probability will persevere in it, and become 
 miserable themselves, and mischievous to society : which, 
 in event, is worse, upon account of both, than if they 
 had been exposed to perish in their infancy. On the 
 other hand, the ingenuous docihty of children before 
 they have been deceived, their distrust of themselves, 
 and natural deference to grown people, whom they find 
 here settled in a world where they themselves are 
 strangers ; and to whom they have recourse for advice, as 
 readily as for protection ; which deference is still greater 
 towards those whp are placed over them : these things 
 give the justest grounds to expect that they may receive 
 such impressions, and be influenced to such a course of 
 behaviour, as will produce lasting good habits; and, 
 together with the dangers before mentioned, are as truly 
 a natural demand upon us to train them up in the way 
 they should go, as their bodily wants are a demand to 
 provide them bodily nourishment. Brute creatures are 
 appointed to do no more than this last for their offspring, 
 nature forming them by instincts to the particular 
 manner of life appointed them; from which they never 
 deviate. But this is so far from being the case of men,, 
 that, on the contrary, considering communities collec- 
 tively, every successive generation is left, in the ordinary 
 course of Providence, to be formed by the preceding 
 one; and becomes good or bad, though not without its 
 own merit or demerit, as this trust is discharged or 
 violated, chiefly in the management of youth. 
 
 We ought, doubtless, to instruct and admonish grown 
 persons; to restrain them from what is evil, and 
 encourage them in what is good, as we are able: but 
 this care of youth, abstracted from all consideration of 
 the parental affection, I say, this care of youth, which is 
 the genera,l notion of education, becomes a distinct 
 s^bject, ^nd a distinct duty, from the particular dangw 
 of their ruin, if left to themselves, and the particular 
 
AT CHRIST-CHURCH, LONDON. 227 
 
 reason we have to expect they will do well, if due care 
 be taken of them. And from hence it follows, that 
 children have as much right to some proper education, 
 as to have their lives preserved; and that when this is 
 not given them by their parents, the care of it devolves 
 upon all persons, it becomes the duty of all, who are 
 capable of contributing to it, and whose help is wanted. 
 
 These trite, but most important things, implied indeed 
 in the text, being thus premised as briefly as I could 
 express them, I proceed to consider distinctly the 
 general manner in which the duty of education is there 
 laid before us: which will further show jts extent, and 
 further obviate the idle . objections which have been 
 made against it. And all this together will' naturally 
 lead us to consider the occasion and necessity of schools 
 for the education of poor children, and in what light the 
 objections against them are to be regarded. 
 
 Solomon might probably intend the text for a parti- 
 cular admonition to educate children in a manner 
 suitable to their respective ranks, and future employ- 
 ments: but certainly he intended it for a general 
 admonition to educate them in virtue and religion, and 
 good conduct of themselves in their temporal concerns. 
 And all this together, in which they are to be educated, 
 he calls the way they should go, i. e. he mentions it not 
 as a matter of speculation, but of practice. And con- 
 formably to this description of the things in which 
 children are to be educated, he describes education 
 itself: for he calls it training them up; which is a very 
 different thing from merely teaching them some truths, 
 necessary to be known or believed. It is endeavouring 
 to form such truths into practical principles in the mind, 
 so as to render them of habitual good influence upon the 
 temper and actions, in all the various occurrences of 
 life. And this is not done by bare instruction; but by 
 that, together with admonishing them frequently as 
 occasion offers; restraining them from what is evil, and 
 exercising them in what is good. Thus the precept of 
 the apostle concerning this matter is, to bring up children 
 in tlie nurture and admonition of the Lord;* as it were 
 
 * Eph. vi. 4. 
 
228 A SERMON PREACHED 
 
 by way of distinction from acquainting them merely with 
 the principles of Christianity, as you would with any 
 common theory. Though education were nothing more 
 than informing children of some truths of importance to 
 them, relating to religion and common life, yet there 
 would be great reason for it, notwithstanding the frivolous 
 objections concerning the danger of giving them preju- 
 dices. But when we consider that such information 
 itself is really the least part of it; and that it consists in 
 endeavouring to put them into right dispositions of mind, 
 and right habits of living, in every relation and every 
 capacity; this consideration shows such objections to be 
 quite absurd: since it shows them to be objections 
 against doing a thing ofs the utmost importance at the 
 natural opportunity of our doing it, childhood and youth; 
 and which is indeed, properly speaking, our only one. 
 For when they are grown up to maturity, they are out 
 of our hands, and must be left to themselves. The 
 natural authority on one side ceases, and the deference 
 on the other. God forbid, that it should be impossible 
 for men to recollect themselves, and reform at an 
 advanced age : but it is in no sort in the power of others 
 to gain upon them; to turn them away from what is 
 wrong, and enforce upon them what is right, at that 
 season of their lives, in the manner we might have done 
 in their childhood. 
 
 Doubtless religion requires instruction, for it is founded 
 in knowledge and belief of some truths. And so is 
 common prudence in the management of our temporal 
 affairs. Yet neither of them consist in the knowledge 
 or belief even of these fundamental truths ; but in our 
 being brought by such knowledge or belief to a corre- 
 spondent temper and behaviour. Religion, as it stood 
 under the Old Testament, is perpetually styled the fear 
 of God: under the New, faith in Christ. But as that 
 fear of God does not signify literally being afraid of him, 
 but having a good heart, and leading a good life, in 
 consequenc,e of such fear; so this faith in Christ does 
 not signify literally believing in him in the sense that 
 word is used in common language, but becoming his 
 real disciples, in consequence of such belief. 
 
AT CHRIST-CHURCH, LONDON. 229 
 
 Our religion being then thus practical, consisting in a 
 frame of mind and course of behaviour, suitable to the 
 dispensation we are under, and which will bring us to our 
 final good; children ought, by education, to be habituated 
 to this course of behaviour, and formed into this frame 
 of mind. And it must ever be remembered, that if no 
 care be taken to do it, they will grow up in a direct 
 contrary behaviour, and be hardened in direct contrary 
 habits. They will more and more corrupt themselves, 
 and spoil their proper nature. They will alienate them- 
 selves further from God; and not only neglect, but 
 trample under foot, the means which he in his infinite 
 mercy has appointed for our recovery. And upon the 
 whole, the same reasons, which show, that they ought to 
 be instructed and exercised in what will render them useful 
 to society, secure them from the present evils they are in 
 danger of incurring, and procure them that satisfaction 
 which lies within the reach of human prudence; show 
 likewise, that they ought to be instructed and exercised 
 in what is suitable to the highest relations in which we 
 stand, and the most important capacity in which we can 
 be considered; in that temper of mind and course of 
 behaviour, which will secure them from their chief evil, 
 and bring them to their chief good. Besides that religion 
 is the principal security of men's acting a right part in 
 society, and even in respect to their own temporal 
 happiness, all things duly considered. 
 
 It is true indeed, children may be taught superstition, 
 under the notion of religion; and it is true also, that, 
 under the notion of prudence, they may be educated in 
 great mistakes as to the nature of real interest and good, 
 respecting the present world. But this is no more a 
 reason for not educating them according to the best of 
 our judgment, than our knowing how very liable we all 
 are to err in other cases, is a reason why we should not, 
 in those other cases, act according to the best of our 
 judgment. 
 
 It being then of the greatest importance, that children 
 should be thus educated, the providing schools to give 
 this education to such of them as would not otherwise 
 have it, has the appearance, at least at first sight, of 
 
230 A SERMON PREACHED 
 
 deserving a place amongst the very best of good works. 
 One would be backward, methinks, in entertaining 
 prejudices against it; and very forward, if one had any, 
 to lay them aside, upon being shown that they wera 
 groundless. Let us consider the whole state of the case. 
 For though this will lead us some little compass, yet I 
 choose to do it; and the rather, because there are people 
 who speak of charity-schools as a new invented scheme, 
 and therefore to be looked upon with I know not what 
 suspicion. Whereas it will appear, that the scheme of 
 charity-schools, even the part of it which is most looked 
 upon in this light, teaching the children letters and 
 accounts, is no otherwise new, than as the occasion for it 
 is so. 
 
 Formerly not only the education of poor children, but 
 also their maintenance, with that of the other poor, were 
 left to voluntary charities. But great changes of different 
 sorts happening over the nation, and charity becoming 
 more cold, or the poor more numerous, it was found 
 necessary to make some legal provision for them. This 
 might, much more properly than charity-schools, be called 
 a new scheme. For, without question, the education of poor 
 children was all along taken care of by voluntary charities, 
 more or less: but obhging us by law to maintain the poor, 
 was new in the reign of queen Elizabeth. Yet, because 
 a change of circumstances made it necessary, its novelty 
 was no reason against it. Now in that legal provision 
 for the maintenance of the poor, poor children must 
 doubtless have had a part in common with grown people. 
 But this could never be sufficient for children, because 
 their case always requires more than mere maintenance ; 
 it requires that they be educated in some proper manner. 
 Wherever there are poor who want to be maintained by 
 charity, there must be poor children who, besides this, 
 want to be educated by charity. And whenever 
 there began to be need of legal provision for the 
 maintenance of the poor, there must immediately have 
 been need also of gome particular legal provision 
 in behalf of poor children for their education; this 
 not being included in what we call their maintenance. 
 And many whose parents are able to maintain them. 
 
AT CHRIST-CHURCH, LONDON. 231 
 
 -and do so, may yet be utterly neglected as to their 
 ■education. But possibly it might not at first be attended 
 to, that the case of poor children was thus a case by 
 itself, which required its own particular provision. Cer- 
 tainly it would not appear, to the generality, so urgent a 
 one as the want of food and raiment. And it might be 
 necessary, that a burden so entirely new as that of a 
 poor-tax was at the time I am speaking of, should be as 
 light as possible. Thus the legal provision for the poor 
 was first settled; without any particular consideration of 
 that additional want in the case of children; as it still 
 remains, with scarce any alteration in this respect. In 
 the mean time, as the poor still increased, or charity still 
 lessened, many poor children were left exposed, not to 
 perish for want of food, but to grow up in society, and 
 learn every thing that is evil and nothing that is good in 
 it; and when they were grown up, greatly at a loss in 
 what honest way to provide for themselves, 'if they 
 could be supposed inclined to it. And larger numbers, 
 whose case was not so bad as this, yet w&re very far 
 from having due care taken of their education. And 
 the evil went on increasing, till it was grown to such a 
 degree, as to be quite out of the compass of separate 
 charities to remedy. At length some excellent persons, 
 who were united in a Society * for carrying on almost 
 every good work, took into consideration the neglected 
 case I have been representing; and first of all, as I 
 understand it, set up charity-schools; or however pro- 
 moted them, as far as their abilities and influence could 
 -extend. Their design was not in any sort to remove 
 poor children out of the rank in which they were born, 
 but, keeping them in it, to give them the assistance 
 which their circumstances plainly called for; by educating 
 them in the principles of religion, as well as civil life; 
 and likewise making some sort of provision for their 
 maintenance: under which last I include clothing them, 
 giving them such learning, if it is to be called by that 
 name, as may qualify them for some common employ- 
 ment, and placing them out to it as they grow up. 
 These two general designs coincide in many respects, 
 
 * Society for promoting Christian Knowledge. 
 
232 A SERMON PREACHED 
 
 and cannot be separated. For teaching the children to 
 read, though I have ranked it under the latter, equalljr 
 belongs to both: and without some advantages of the 
 latter sort, poor people would not send their children to 
 our charity-schools: nor could the poorest of all be 
 admitted into any schools, without some charitable pro- 
 vision of. clothing. And care is taken, that it be such 
 as cannot but be a restraint upon the children. And if 
 this, or any part oftheir education, gives them any little 
 vanity, as has been poorly objected, whilst they are 
 children, it is scarce possible but that it will have even 
 a quite contrary effect when they are grown up, and 
 ever after remind them of their rank. Yet still we find 
 it is apprehended that what they here learn may set thent 
 above it. 
 
 But why should people be so extremely apprehensive 
 of the danger, that poor persons will make a pffrverse 
 use of every the least advantage, even the being able tp 
 read, whilst they do not appear at all apprehensive of 
 the like danger for themselves or their own children, in 
 respect of riches or power, how much soever; though 
 the danger of perverting these advantages is surely 
 as great, and the perversion itself of much greater and 
 worse consequence ? And by what odd reverse of 
 things has it happened, that such as pretend to be 
 distinguished for the love of liberty should be the only 
 persons who plead for keeping down the poor, as one 
 may speak; for keeping them more inferior in this 
 respect, and which must be the consequence, in other 
 respects, than they were in times past ? For till within 
 a century or two all ranks were nearly upon a level as to 
 the learning in question. The art of printing appears to 
 have been providentially reserved till these latter ages, 
 and then providentially brought into use, as what was to 
 be instrumental for the future in carrying on the ap- 
 pointed course of things. The alterations which this art 
 has even already made in the face of the world are not 
 inconsiderable. By means of it, whether immediately or 
 remotely, the methods of carrying on business are, in 
 several respects, improved, knowledge lias been increased* 
 
 • Dan. xiL 4. 
 
At CHRIST-CHURCH, LONDON. 233 
 
 and some sort of literature is become general. And if 
 this be a blessing, we ought to let the poor, in their 
 degree, share it with us. The present state of things 
 and course of providence plainly leads us to do so. 
 
 And if we do tiot, it is certain, how little soever it be 
 attended to, that they will be upon a greater disadvantage, 
 on many accounts, especially in populous places, than 
 they were in the dark Eiges: for they will be more igno- 
 rant, comparatively with the people about them, than 
 they were then; and the ordinary affairs of the world 
 are now put in a way which requires that they should 
 have some knowledge of letters, which was not the case 
 then. And therefore to bring up the poor in their former 
 ignorance, now this knowledge is so much more common 
 and wanted, would be, not to keep them in the same, but 
 to put them into a lower condition of life than what they 
 were in formerly. Nor let people of rank flatter them- 
 selves, that ignorance will keep their inferiors more 
 dutiful and in greater subjection to them: for surely 
 there must be danger that it will have a contrary effect 
 under a free government such as ours, and in a dissolute 
 age. Indeed the principles and manners of the poor, as 
 to virtue and religion, will always be greatly influenced, 
 as they always have been, by the example of their supe- 
 riors, if that would mend the matter. And this influence 
 will, I suppose, be greater, if they are kept more inferior 
 than formerly in all knowledge and improvement. But 
 unless their superiors of the present age, superiors, I 
 mean of the middle, as well as higher ranks in society, 
 are greater examples of public spirit, of dutiful submission 
 to authority, human and divine, of moderation in diver- 
 sions, and proper care of their families and domestic 
 affairs; unless, I say, superiors of the present age are 
 greater examples of decency, virtue, and rehgion, than 
 those of former times ; for what reason in the world is 
 it desirable that their example shduld have this greater 
 influence over the poor.P On the contrary, why should 
 not the poor, by being taught to read, be put into a 
 capacity of making some improvement in moral and 
 religious knowledge, and confirming themselves in those 
 good principles, which will be a great security for their 
 
234 A SERMON PREACHED 
 
 following the example of their superiors if it be good, 
 and some sort of preservative against their following it if 
 it be bad? And serious persons will further observe 
 very singular reasons for this amongst us; from the 
 discontinuance of that religious intercourse between 
 pastors and people in private, which remain in Protes- 
 tant churches abroad, as well as in the church of Rome ; 
 and from our small public care and provision for keeping 
 up a sense of religion in the lower rank, except by 
 distributing religious books. For in this way they have 
 been assisted; and any well-disposed person may do 
 much good amongst them, and at a very trifling expense, 
 since the worthy Society before mentioned has so greatly 
 lessened the price of such books. But this pious charity 
 is an additional reason why the poor should be taught 
 to read, that they may be in a capacity of receiving the 
 benefit of it. Vain indeed would be the hope, that any 
 thing in this world can be fully secured from abuse. For 
 as it is the general scheme of divine Providence to bring 
 good out of evil; so the wickedness of men will, if it be 
 possible, bring evil out of good. But upon the whole, 
 incapacity and ignorance must be favourable t* error and 
 vice; and knowledge and improvement contribute, in 
 due time, to the destruction of impiety as well as super- 
 stition, and to the general prevalence of true religion. 
 But some of these observations may perhaps be thought 
 too remote from the present occasion. It is more 
 obviously to the purpose of it to observe, that reading, 
 writing, and accounts, are useful, and, whatever cause it 
 is owing to, would really now be wanted in the very 
 lowest stations: and that the trustees of our charity- 
 schools are fully convinced of the great fitness of joining 
 to instruction easy labour, of some sort or other, as fast 
 as it is practicable ; which they have already been able 
 to do in some of them. 
 
 Then as to placing out the poor children, as soon as 
 they are arrived at a fit age for it; this must be approved 
 by every one, as it is putting them in a way of industry 
 under domestic government, at a time of life, in some 
 respects, more dangerous than even childhood. And it 
 is a known thing, that care is taken to do it in a manher 
 
AT CHRIST-CHURCH, LONDON. 235 
 
 which does not set them above their rank : though it is 
 not possible always to do it exactly as one would wish. 
 Yet, I hope it may be observed without offence, if any 
 of them happen to be of a very weakly constitution, or 
 of a very distinguished capacity, there can be no impro- 
 priety in placing these in employments adapted to their 
 particular cases; though such as would be very improper 
 for the generality. 
 
 But the principal design of this charity is to educate 
 poor children in such a manner, as has a tendency to 
 make them good, and useful, and contented, what- 
 ever their particular station be. The care of this is 
 greatly neglected by the poor: nor truly is it more 
 regarded by the rich, considering what might be expected 
 from them. And if it were as practicable to provide 
 charity-schools, which should supply this shameful 
 neglect in the rich, as it is to supply the like, though more 
 excusable, neglect in the poor, I should think certainly, 
 that both ought to be done for the same reasons. And 
 most people, I hope, will think so too, if they attend to 
 the thing I am speaking of; which is the moral and 
 rehgious part of education ; what is equally necessary for 
 all ranks, and grievously wanting in all. Yet in this 
 respect the poor must be greatly upon a disadvantage, 
 from the nature of the case; as will appear to any one 
 who will consider it. 
 
 For if poor children are not sent to school, several 
 years of their childhood of course pass away in idleness 
 and loitering. This has a tendency to give them perhaps 
 a feeble listlessness, perhaps a headstrong profligateness 
 of mind; certainly an indisposition to proper application 
 as they grow up, and an aversion afterward, not only to 
 the restraints of religion, but to those which any par- 
 ticular calling, and even the nature of society, require. 
 Whereas children kept to stated orders, and who many 
 hours of the day are in employment, are by this means 
 habituated both to submit' to those who are placed over 
 them, and to govern themselves ; and they are also by 
 this means prepared for industry, in any way of life in 
 which they may be placed. And all this holds abstracted 
 from the consideration of their being taught t© read ; 
 
286 A SERMON" PREACHED 
 
 without which, however, it will be impracticable to 
 employ their time: not to repeat the unanswerable rea- 
 sons for it before mentioned. Now several poor people 
 cannot, others will not be at the expense of sending their 
 children to school. And let me add, that such as can 
 and are willing, yet if it be very inconvenient to them, 
 ought to be eased of it, and the burden of children made 
 as light as may be to their poor parents. 
 
 Consider next the manner in which the children of the 
 poor, who have vicious parents, are brought up, in com- 
 parison with other children whose parents are of the 
 same character. The children of dissolute men of for- 
 tune may have the happiness of not seeing much of their 
 parents. And this, even though they are educated at 
 home, is often the case, by means of a customary dis- 
 tance between them, which cannot be kept amongst the 
 poor. Nor is it impossible that a rich man of this 
 character, desiring to have his children better than him- 
 self, may provide them such an education as may make 
 them so, without his having any restraint or trouble in 
 the matter. And the education which children of better 
 rank must have, for their improvement in the common 
 accomplishments belonging to it, is of course, as yet, for 
 the most part, attended with some sort of religious educa- 
 tion. But the poor, as they cannot provide persons to 
 educate their children; so, from the way in which they 
 live together in poor families, a child must be an eye 
 and ear witness of the worst part of his parents' talk 
 and behaviour. And it cannot but be expected, that 
 his own will be formed upon it. For as example 
 in general has very great influence upon all persons, 
 especially children, the example of their parents is 
 of authority with them, when there is nothing to balance 
 it on the other side. Now take in the supposition, that 
 these parents are dissolute, profligate people ; then, over 
 and above giving their children no sort of good instruction, 
 and a very bad example, there are more crimes than one 
 in which, it may be feared, they will directly instruct and 
 encourage them; besides letting them ramble abroad 
 wherever they will, by which, of course, they learn the 
 very same principles and manners they do at home. And 
 
AT CHRIST-CHURCH, LONDON. 237 
 
 from all these things together, such poor children will 
 have their characters formed to vice, by those whose 
 business it is to restrain them from it. They will be 
 disciplined and trained up in it. This surely is a case 
 which ought to have some public provision made for it. 
 If it cannot have an adequate one, yet such a one as it 
 can : unless it be thought so rare as not to deserve our 
 attention. But in reality, though there should be no 
 more parents of this character amongst the poor, in 
 propoi'tion, than amongst the rich, the case which I have 
 been putting will be far from being uncommon. Now 
 notwithstanding the danger to which the children of such 
 wretched parents cannot but be exposed, from what they 
 see at home ; yet by instilling into them the principles of 
 virtue and religion at school, and placing them soon out 
 in sober families, there is ground to hope they may avoid 
 those ill courses, and escape that ruin, into which, without 
 this care, they would almost certainly run. I need not 
 add how much greater ground there is to expect, that 
 those of the children who have religious parents will do 
 well. For such parents, besides setting their children a 
 good example, will likewise repeat and enforce upon them 
 at home the good instructions they receive at school. 
 
 After all, we find the world continues very corrupt. 
 And it would be miraculous indeed, if charity-schools 
 alone should make it otherwise: or if they should 
 make even all who are brought up in them proof 
 against its corruptions. The truth is, every method 
 that can be made use of to prevent or reform the bad 
 manners of the age, will appear to be of less effect, in 
 proportion to the greater occasion there is for it; as 
 cultivation, though the most proper that can be, will 
 produce less fruit, or of a worse sort, in a bad climate 
 than in a good one. And thus the character of the 
 common people, with whom these children are to live, in 
 the ordinary intercourse of business and company when 
 they come out into the world, may more or less defeat 
 the good effects of their education. And so likewise 
 may the character of men of rank, under whose influence 
 they are to live. But whatever danger may be appre- 
 hended fromi either or both of these, it can be no reason 
 
238 A SERMON PREACHED 
 
 why we should not endeavour, by the likeliest methods 
 we can, to better the world, or keep it from growing worse. 
 The good tendency of the method before us is unques- 
 tionable. And I think myself obliged to add, that 
 upon a comparison of parishes where charity-schools 
 have been for a considerable time established, with 
 neighbouring ones, in like situations, which have had 
 none, the good effects of them, as I am very credibly 
 informed, are most manifest. Notwithstanding I freely 
 own, that it is extremely difficult to make the necessary 
 comparisons in this case, and form a judgment upon 
 them. And a multitude of circumstances must come in 
 to determine, from ' appearances only, concerning the 
 positive good which is produced by this charity, and the 
 evil which ^s prevented by it; which last is full as material 
 as the former, and can scarce be testimated at all. But 
 surely there can be no doubt whether it be useful or not, 
 to educate children in order, virtue, and religion. 
 
 However, suppose, which is yet far from being the case, 
 but suppose it should seem, that this undertaking did not 
 answer the expense and trouble of it, in the civil or 
 political way of considering things. What is this to 
 persons who profess to be engciged in it, not only upon 
 mere civil views, but upon moral and Christian ones ? 
 We are to do our endeavours to promote virtue and 
 religion amongst men, and leave the success to God : the 
 designs of his providence are answered by these endea- 
 vours, whether they will hear, or whether they will forbear; 
 i. e. whatever be the success of them: and the least 
 success in such endeavours is a great and valuable effect.* 
 
 From these foregoing observations, duly considered, 
 it will appear that the objections, which have been made 
 against charity-schools, are to be regarded in the same 
 light with those which are made against any other 
 necessary things ; for instance, against providing for the 
 sick and the aged poor. Objections in this latter case 
 could be considered no otherwise than merely as warnings 
 of some -inconvenience which might accompany such 
 charity, and might, more or less, be guarded against, the 
 charity itself being still kept up; or as proposals for 
 
 * See the Sermon before the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel. 
 
AT CHRIST-CHURCH, LONDON. 239 
 
 placing it upon some better foot. For though, amidst 
 the disorder and imperfection in all human things, these 
 objections were not obviated, they could not however 
 possibly be understood as reasons for discontinuing such 
 charity; because, thus understood, they would be reasons 
 for leaving necessitous people to perish. Well-disposed 
 persons therefore will take care, that they be not deluded 
 with objections against this before us, any more than 
 against other necessary charities; as though such 
 objections were reasons for suppressing them, or not 
 contributing to their support, unless we can procure an 
 alteration of that to which we object. There can be 
 no possible reasons for leaving poor children in that 
 imminent danger of ruin, in which many of these must 
 be left, were it not for this charity. Therefore objections 
 against it cannot, from the nature of the case, amount to 
 more than reasons for endeavouring, whether with or 
 without success, to put it upon a right and unexception- 
 able foot, in the particular respects objected against. 
 And if this be the intention of the objectors, the managers 
 of it have shown themselves remarkably ready to second 
 them : for they have shown even a docility in receiving 
 admonitions of any thing thought amiss in it, and pro- 
 posals for rendering it more complete: and, under the 
 influence of this good spirit, the management of it is 
 really improving; particularly in greater endeavours to 
 introduce manufactures into these schools; and in more 
 particular care to place the children out to employments 
 in which they are most wanted, and may be most 
 serviceable, and which are most suitable to their ranks. 
 But if there be any thing in the management of them, 
 which some particular persons think should be altered, 
 and others are of a contrary opinion, these things must 
 be referred to the judgaicnt of the public, and the deter- 
 mination of the public complied with. Such compliance 
 is an essential principle of all charitable associations ; 
 for without it they could not subsist at all: and by 
 charitable associations, multitudes are put in mind to do 
 good, who otherwise would not have thought of it; and 
 infinitely more good may be done, than possibly can by 
 the separate endeavours of the same number of charitable 
 
240 A SERMON, ETC. 
 
 persons. Now he who refuses to help forward the good 
 work before us, because it is not conducted exactly in 
 his own way, breaks in upon that general principle of 
 union, which those who are friends to the indigent and 
 distressed part of our fellow creatures will be very 
 cautious how they do in any case: but more especially 
 will they beware, how they break in upon that necessary 
 principle in a case of so great importance as is the 
 present. For the public is as much interested in the 
 education of poor children, as in the preservation of their 
 lives. 
 
 This last, I observed, is legally provided for. The 
 former is left amongst other works of charity, neglected 
 by many who care for none of these things, and to be 
 carried on by such only as think it their concern to be 
 doing good. Some of you are able, and in a situation, 
 to assist in it in an eminent degree, by being trustees, 
 and overlooking the management of these schools; or in 
 different ways countenancing and recommending them ; 
 as well as by contributing to their maintenance: others 
 can zissist only irf this latter way. In what manner and 
 degree then it belongs to you, and to me, and to any 
 particular person, to help it forward, let us all consider 
 seriously, not for one another, but each of us for himself. 
 
 And may the blessing of Almighty God accompany this 
 work of charity, which he has put into the hearts of 
 his servants, in behalf of these poor children; that 
 being now trained up in the way they should go, when 
 they are old they may not depart from it. May he, of his 
 mercy keep them safe amidst the innumerable dangers 
 of this bad world, through which they are to pass, 
 and preserve them unto his heavenly kingdom. 
 
A SERMON, ETC. 241 
 
 SERMON V. 
 
 7SBACHEO BEFORE THE HOUSE OF LORDS, IN THE ABBEY-CHUECH OF WEST- 
 MINSTER. ON THURSDAY, JUNE 11, 1747, BEING THE ANNIVERSARY OF HIS 
 MAJESTY'S HAPPY ACCESSION TO THE THRONE. 
 
 I exhort, that, Jirst of all, supplications, prayers, intercessions, aim 
 giving of thanks, he made for all men; for kings, and for all that 
 are in authority ; thai we may lead a quiet and peaceable life, in 
 all godliness and honesty. — 1 Tim. ii. 1, 2, 
 
 It is impossible to describe the general end which Pro- 
 vidence has appointed us to aim at in our passage through 
 the present wotld, in more expressive words than these 
 very plain ones of the apostle, to lead a quiet and peace- 
 able life, in all godliness and honesty: a quiet and peace- 
 able life, by way of distinction, surely, from eager tumul- 
 tuary pursuits in our private capacity, as well as in 
 opposition both to our making insurrections in the state, 
 and to our suffering oppression from it. To lead a quiet 
 and peaceable life in all godliness and honesty, is the whole 
 that we have any reason to be concerned for. ^To this 
 the constitution of our nature carries us ; and our external 
 condition is adapted to it. 
 
 Now in aid to this general appointment of Providence, 
 civil government has been instituted over the world, both 
 by the light of nature and by revelation, to instruct men 
 in the duties of fidelity, justice, and regard to common 
 good, and enforce the practice of these virtues, without 
 which there could have been no peace or quiet amongst 
 mankind; and to preserve, in different ways, a sense of 
 religion as well as virtue, and of God's authority over us. 
 For if we could suppose men to have lived out of govern- 
 ment, they must have run wild, and all knowledge of 
 divine things must have been lost from ''^Ai'ong them. 
 But by means of their uniting under it, they have been 
 preserved in some tolerable security from the fraud and 
 violence of each other; order, a sense of virtue, and the 
 practice of it, has been in some measure kept up ; and 
 religion, more or less pure, has been all along spread and 
 propagated. So that I make no scruple to affirm, that 
 
242 A SERMON PREACHED BEFURE 
 
 civil government has been, in all ages, a standing publi- 
 cation of the law of nature, and an enforcement of it; 
 though never in its perfection, for the most part greatly 
 corrupted, and I suppose always so in some degree. 
 
 And considering that civil government is that part of 
 God's government over the world, which he exercises by 
 the instrumentality of men, wherein that which is oppres- 
 sion, injustice, cruelty, as coming from them, is under his 
 direction, necessary discipline, and just punishment; 
 considering that all power is of God* all authority is 
 properly of divine appointment; men's very living under 
 magisttacy might naturally have led them to the contem- 
 plation of authority in its source and origin ; the one, 
 supreme, absolute authority of Almighty God ; by which 
 he doeth according to his will in the army of heaven, and 
 among the inhabitants of the earth. -t which he now exerts, 
 visibly and invisibly, by different instruments, in different 
 forms of administration, different methods of discipline 
 and punishment; and which he will continue to exert 
 hereafter, not only over mankind when this mortal life 
 shall be ended, but throughout his universal kingdom; 
 till, by having rendered to all according to their works,, 
 he shall have completely executed that just scheme of 
 government, which he has already begun to execute in. 
 this world, by their hands, whom he has appointed, for 
 the present punishment of evil-doers, and for the praise of 
 them that do well.t 
 
 And though that perfection of justice cannot in any 
 sort take place in this world, even under the very best, 
 governments ; yet under the worst, men have been 
 enabled to lead much more quiet and peaceable lives, as 
 well as attend to and keep up a sense of religion much 
 more, than they could possibly have done without any 
 government at all. But a free Christian government is- 
 adapted to answer these purposes in a higher degree, in 
 proportion to its just liberty, and the purity of its reli- 
 gious establishment. And as we enjoy these advantages^ 
 civil and rehgious, in a very eminent degree, under a 
 good prince, and those he has placed in authority over 
 us, we are eminently obliged to offer up supphcations^ 
 
 * Rom. xiii. 1. j- Dan. iv. 35. J 1 Pet. ii. 14. 
 
THE HOUSE OF LORDS. 243 
 
 and thanksgivings in their behalf; to pay them all that 
 duty which these prayers imply; and to lead, as those 
 advantages enable and have a tendency to dispose us to 
 do, quiet and peaceable lives in all godliness and honesty. 
 
 Of the former of these advantages, our free constitu- 
 tion of civil government, we seem to have a/ very high 
 value. And if we would keep clear from abuses of it, 
 it could not be overvalued ; otherwise than as every thing 
 may, when considered as respecting this world only. We 
 seem, 1 say, sufficiently sensible of the value of our civil 
 liberty. It is our daily boast, and we are in the highest 
 degree jealous of it. Would to God we were somewhat 
 more judicious in our jealousy of it, so as to guard 
 against its chief enemy, one might say, the only enemy 
 of it, we have at present to fear; I mean licentiousness; 
 which has undermined so many free governments, and 
 without whose treacherous help no free government, 
 perhaps, ever was undermined. This licentiousness 
 indeed is net only dangerous to liberty, but it is actually 
 a present infringement of it in many instances. — But I 
 must not turn this good day into a day of reproach. 
 Dropping then the encroachments which are made upon 
 our liberty, peace, and quiet by licentiousness, we are 
 certainly a freer nation than any other we have an account 
 of; and as free, it seems, as the very nature of govern- 
 ment will permit. Every man is equally under the 
 protection of the laws; may have equal justice against 
 the most rich and powerful; and securely enjoy all the 
 common blessings of life, with which the industry of his 
 ancestors, or his own, has furnished him. In some other 
 countries the upper part of the world is free, but in Great 
 Britain the whole body of the people is free. For we 
 have at length, to the distinguished honour of those who 
 began, and have more particularly laboured in it, 
 eniancipated our northern provinces from most of 
 their legal remains of slavery : for voluntary slavery 
 cannot be abolished, at least not directly, by law. I take 
 leave to speak of this long-desired work as done; since 
 it wants only his concurrence, who, as we have found by 
 many years' experience, considers the good of his peopie 
 as his own. And I cannot but look upon these acts of 
 
 2 
 
244 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE 
 
 the legislature in a further view", as instances of regard to 
 posterity ; and declarations of its readiness to put every 
 subject upon an equal foot of security and freedom, if any 
 of them are not so, in any other respects, which come 
 into its view ; and as a precedent and example for doing it. 
 
 Liberty, which is the very genius of our civil constitu- 
 tion, and runs through every branch of it, extends its 
 influence to the ecclesiastical part of it. A religious 
 estabhshment without a toleration of such as think they 
 cannot in conscience conform to it, is itself a general 
 tyranny; because it claims absolute authority over 
 conscience; and would soon beget particular kinds of 
 tyraimy of the worse sort, tyranny over the mind, and 
 various superstitions ; after the way should be paved for 
 them, as it soon must, by ignorance. On the other hand, 
 a constitution of civil government without any religious 
 establishment is a chimerical project, of which there is 
 no example : and which, leaving the generality vrithout 
 guide and instruction, must leave religion to be sunk and 
 forgotten amongst them ; and at the same time give full 
 scope to superstition, and the gloom of enthusiasm; which 
 last, especially, ought surely to be diverted and checked, 
 as far as it can be done without force. Now a reasonable 
 establishment provides instruction for the ignorant, 
 withdraws them, not in the way of force, but of guidance, 
 from running after those kinds of conceits. It doubtless 
 has a tendency likewise to keep up a sense of real 
 religion and real Christianity in a nation ; and is moreover 
 necessary for the encouragement of learning; some parts 
 of which the scripture revelation absolutely requires 
 should be cultivated. 
 
 It is to be remarked further, that the value of any 
 particular religious establishment is not to be estimated 
 merely by what it is in itself, but also by what it is in 
 comparison with those of other nations ; a comparison 
 which will sufl&ciently teach us not to expect perfection 
 in human things. And what is still more material, the 
 value of our own ought to be very much heightened in 
 our esteem, by considering what it is a security from ; I 
 mean that great corruption of Christianity, popery, which 
 is ever hard at work to bring us again under its yoke. 
 
THE HOUSE OF LORDS. 245 
 
 Whoever will consider the popish claims, to the disposal 
 of the whole earth, as of divine right, to dispense with, 
 the most sacred engagements, the claims to supreme 
 absolute authority in religion ; in short, the general claims 
 which the tanonists express by the words plenitude oj 
 pov:er — whoever, I say, will consider popery as it is 
 professed at Rome, may see, that it is manifest, open 
 usurpation of all human and divine authorit)^ But even 
 in those Roman Catholic countries where these monstrous 
 claims are not admitted, and the civil power does, in 
 many respects, restrain the papal; yet persecution is 
 professed, as it is absolutely enjoined by what is 
 acknowledged to be their highest authority, a general 
 council, so called, with the pope at the head of it; and is 
 practised in all of them, I think without exception, where 
 it can be done safely. Thus they go on to substitute 
 force instead of argument; and external profession made 
 by force instead of reasonable conviction. And thus cor- 
 ruptions of the grossest sort have been in vogue, for many 
 generations, in parts many of Christendom; and are so 
 still, even where popery obtains in its least absurd form : 
 and their antiquity and wide extent are insisted upon as 
 proofs of their truth ; a kind of proof, which at best can 
 be only presumptive, but which loses all its little weight, 
 in proportion as the long and large prevalence of such 
 corruptions have been obtained by force. 
 
 Indeed it is said in the book of Job, that the worship 
 of the sun and moon was an iniquity to be punished by the 
 judge* And this, though it is not so much as a precept, 
 much less a general one, is, I think, the only passage of 
 scripture which can with any colour be alleged in favour 
 of persecution of any sort: for what the Jews did, and 
 what they were commanded to do, under their theocracy, 
 are both quite out of the case. But whenever that book 
 was written, the scene of it is laid at a time when idolatry 
 was in its infancy, an acknowledged novelty, essentially 
 destructive of true religion, arising perhaps from mere 
 wantonness of imagination. In these circumstances, 
 this greatest of evils, which afterwards laid waste true 
 religion over the face of the earth, might have been 
 
 * Job xxxi. 26, 27, 28. 
 
246 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE 
 
 suppressed at once, without dange^ of mistake or abuse. 
 And one might go on to add, that if those to whom the 
 care of this belonged, instead of serving themselves of 
 prevailing superstitions, had in all ages and countries 
 opposed them in their rise, and adhered faithfully to that 
 primitive religion, which was received of old, since man 
 was placed upon earth;* there could not possibly have 
 been any such difference of opinion concerning the 
 Almighty Governor of the world, as could have given 
 any pretence for tolerating the idolatries which overspread 
 it. On the contrary, his universal monarchy must have 
 been universally recognised, and the general laws of it 
 more ascertained and known, than the municipal ones of 
 any particular country can be. In such a state of religion, 
 as it could not but have been acknowledged by all man- 
 kind, that immorality of every sort was disloyalty to him, 
 tlie high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity, whose name 
 is holy ;t so it could not but have been manifest, that 
 idolatry, in those determinate instances of it, was plain 
 rebellion against him; and therefore rriight have been 
 punished as an offence, of the highest kind, against the 
 Supreme Authority in nature. But this is in no sort 
 applicable to the present state of religion in the world. 
 For if the principle of punishing idolatry were now admit- 
 ted amongst the several different parties in religion, the 
 weakest in every place would run a great risk of being 
 convicted of it; or however heresy and schism would 
 soon be found crimes of the same nature, and equally 
 deserving punishment. Thus the spirit of persecution 
 would range without any stop or control, but what should 
 arise from its want of power. But our religious 
 establishment disclaims all principles of this kind, and 
 desires not to keep persons in its communion, or gain 
 proselytes to it, by any other methods than the Christian 
 ones of argument and conviction. 
 
 These hints may serve to remind us of the value we 
 ought to set upon our constitution in Church and State, 
 the advantages of which are the proper subjects of our 
 commemoration on this day, as his majesty has shown 
 himself, not in words, but in the whole course of his reign, 
 
 * Job XX. 4. + Isaiah Iviu 16, 
 
THE HOUSE OP LORDS. 247 
 
 the guardian and protector of both. And the blessings 
 •of his reign are not only rendered more sensible, but 
 ♦are really heightened, by its securing us from that 
 pretender to his crown, whom we had almost forgot, till 
 our late danger renewed our apprehensions; who, we 
 "know, is a professed enemy to our church; and grown 
 •old in resentments and maxims of government directly 
 'Contrary to our civil constitution; nay his very claim is 
 founded in principles desti-uctive of it. Our deliverance 
 and our security from this danger, with all the other 
 blessings of the king's government, are so many reasons, 
 •for supplications, prayers, intercessions, and giving of 
 thanks, to which we are exhorted; as well as for all 
 other dutiful behaviour towards it; and should also 
 remind us to take care and make due improvement of 
 those blessings, hy leading, in the enjoyment of them, 
 quiet and peaceable lives, in all godliness and honesty. 
 
 The Jewish church offered sacrifices even for heathen 
 princes to whom they were in subjection: and the 
 primitive Christian church, the Christian sacrifices of 
 ^supplications and prayers for the prosperity of the 
 emperor and the state ; though they were falsely accused 
 of being enemies to both, because they would not join 
 in their idolatries. In conformity to these examples of 
 the church of God in all ages, prayers for the king and 
 those in authority under him are part of the daily service 
 of our own. And for the day of his inauguration a 
 particular service is appointed, which we are here 
 assembled in the house of God to celebrate. This is 
 the first duty we owe to kings, and those who are in 
 authority under them, that we make prayers and 
 thanksgivings for them. And in it is comprehended, 
 what yet may be considered as another, paying them 
 honour and reverence. Praying for them is it«elf an 
 instance and expression of this, as it gives them a part 
 in our highest solemnities. It also reminds us of that 
 further honour and reverence which we are to pay them, 
 as occasions offer, throughout the whole course of our 
 behaviour. Fear God, honour the Icing,* are apostolic 
 precepts ; and despising government, and speaking evil of 
 
 * 1 Pet. ii. 17. 
 
248 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE 
 
 dignities, apostolrc descriptions of such as are reserved 
 unto the day of judgmevi to be punished, f And if these 
 evil speeches are so highly criminal, it cannot be a thing 
 very innocent to make a custom of entertaining our- 
 selves with them. 
 
 Further, if we are to pray, that we may, that it may 
 be permitted us, to lead a quiet and peaceable li/6, we 
 ought surely to live so, when, by means of a mild, equal 
 government, it is permitted us; and be very thankful, 
 first to God, and then to those whom he makes the 
 instruments of so great good to us, and pay them all 
 obedience and duty; though every thing be not conducted" 
 according to our judgment, nor every person in employ- 
 ment whom we may think deserving of it. Indeed 
 opposition, in a legal, regular way, to measures which a 
 person thinks wrong, cannot but be allowed in a free 
 government. It is in itself just, and also keeps up the 
 spirit of liberty. But opposition, from indirect motives, 
 to measures which he sees to be necessary, is itself 
 immoral: it keeps up the spirit of licentiousness; is the 
 greatest reproach of liberty, and in many ways most 
 dangerous to it; and has been a principal means of 
 overturning free governments. It is well too if the legal 
 subjection to the government we live under, which may 
 accompany such behaviour, be not the reverse of 
 Christian subjection; subjection for wrath only, and not 
 for conscience' sake.t And one who wishes well to his- 
 country will beware how he inflames the common 
 people against measures, whether right or wrong, which 
 they are not judges of. For no one can foresee how far 
 such disaffection will extend; but every one sees, that it 
 diminishes the reverence which is certainly owing to- 
 authority. Our due regards to these things are indeed 
 instances of our loyalty, but they are in reality as much 
 instances of our patriotism too. Happy the people who 
 live under a prince, the justice of whose government 
 renders them coincident. 
 
 Lastly, As by the good providence of God we were- 
 born under a free government, and are members of a pure.- 
 reformed church, both of which he has wonderfully 
 
 * 2 Pet. ii. 10. t 2 Pet ii. 9. J; Rom. xiii. 5. 
 
THE HOUSE OF LORDS. 249 
 
 preserved through infinite dangers ; if we do not take 
 heed to live like Christians, nor to govern ourselves with 
 decency in those respects in which we are free, we shall 
 he a dishonour to both. Both are most justly to be valued : 
 but they may be valued in the wrong place. It is no more 
 a recommendation of civil, than it is of natural liberty,* 
 that it must put us into a capacity of behaving ill. Let 
 us then value our civil constitution, not because it leaves 
 us the power of acting as mere humour and passion carry 
 us, in those respects, in which governments less free lay 
 men under restraints; but for its equal laws, by which 
 the great are disabled from oppressing those below them. 
 Let us transfer, each of us, the equity of this our civil 
 constitution to our whole personal character; and be sure 
 to be as much afraid of subjection to mere arbitrary will 
 and pleasure in ourselves, as to the arbitrary will of 
 others. For the tyranny of our own lawless passions is 
 the nearest and most dangerous of all tyrannies. 
 
 Then as to the other part of our constitution; let us 
 value it, not because it leaves us at liberty to have as! 
 little religion as we please, without being accountable to 
 human judicatories; but because it affords us the means 
 and assistances to worship God according to his \yord; 
 because it exhibits to our view, and enforces upon our 
 conscience, genuine Christianity, free from the supersti- 
 tions with which it is defiled in other countries. These 
 superstitions naturally tend to abate its force: our pro- 
 fession of it in its purity is a particular call upon us to 
 yield ourselves up to its full influence; to be pure in 
 heart ii^ to be holy in all manner of conversation.X Much 
 oi the form of godliness is laid aside amongst us: this itself 
 should admonish us to attend more to the power thereof^ 
 We have discarded many burdensome ceremonies : let us 
 be the more careful to cultivate inward religion. We have 
 thrown off a multitude of superstitious practices, which 
 were called good works: let us the more abound in all 
 moral virtues, these being unquestionably such. Thus 
 our lives will justify and recommend the reformation; 
 and we shall adorn tlie doctrine of God our Saviour in all 
 things.W 
 
 • Natural liberty as opposed to necessity, or fate 
 t MatU V. 8. 1 1 Pet. i. 15. § 2 Tim. iii. 5. || Titus ii. 10. 
 
1250 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE THE 
 
 SERMON VI. 
 
 PREACHED BEFORE HIS GRACE CHARLES DUKE OF RICHMOND, PRESIDENT, 
 AND THE GOVERNORS OF THE LONDON INFIRMARY, FOR THE RELIEF OF 
 SICK AND DISEASED PERSONS, ESPECIALLY MANUFACTURERS, AND SEAMEN 
 IN MERCHANT-SERVICH, &c. AT THE PARISH CHURCH OF ST LAWRENCE- 
 JEWRY, ON THURSDAY, MARCH 31, 1748. 
 
 And, above all things, have fervent charity among yourselves : for 
 charity shall cover the multitude of sins. — 1 Pet. iv. 8. 
 
 As we owe our being, and all our faculties, and the very 
 opportunities of exerting them, to Almighty God, and are 
 plainly his and not our own, we are admonished, even 
 though we should have done all those things which are 
 commanded us, to say, We are unprofitable servants* 
 And with much deeper humility must we make this 
 acknowledgment, when we consider in how many things 
 we have all offended.\ But still the behaviour of such 
 creatures as men, highly criminal in some respects, may 
 yet in others be such as to render them the proper objects 
 of mercy, and, our Saviour does not decline saying, 
 thought worthy ofit.X And, conformably to our natural 
 sense of things, the Scripture is very express, that mercy, 
 forgiveness, and, in general, charity to our fellow creatures, 
 has this efficacy in a very high degree. 
 
 Several copious and remote reasons have been alleged, 
 why such pre-eminence is given to this grace or virtue ; 
 some of great importance, and none of them perhaps 
 without its weight. But the proper one seems to be 
 very short and obvious, that by fervent charity, with a 
 course of beneficence proceeding from it, a person may 
 make amends for the good he has blamably omitted, 
 and the injuries he has done, so far, as that society 
 would have no demand upon him for such his misbe- 
 haviour; nor consequently would justice have any in 
 behalf of society, whatever it might have upon other 
 accounts. Thus by fervent charity he may even merit 
 forgiveness of men: and this seems to afford a very 
 singular reason why it mav be graciously granted him 
 
 * Luke xvii. 10. f Jamos'iii. 8. } Luke xx. 3S. 
 
GOVERNORS OF THE LONDON INFIRMARY. 251. 
 
 by God; a very singular reason, the Christian covenant 
 of pardon always supposed, why divine justice should 
 permit, and divine mercy appoint, that such his charity 
 should be allowed to cover the multitude of sins. 
 
 And this reason leads me to observe, what Scripture 
 and the whole nature of the thing shows, that the charity 
 here meant must be such hearty love to our fellow 
 creatures, as produceth a settled endeavour to promote, 
 according to the best of our judgment, their real lasting 
 good, bothvpresent and future ; and not that easiness of 
 temper, which with peculiar propriety is expressed by 
 the word good- humour, and is a sort of benevolent 
 instinct left to itself, without the direction of our judg- 
 ment. For this kind of good-humour is so far from 
 making the amends before mentioned, that, though it be 
 agreeable in conversation, it is often most mischievous 
 in every other intercourse of life; and always puts men 
 out of a capacity of doing the good they might, if they 
 could withstand importunity, and the sight of distress, 
 when the case requires they should be withstood; many 
 instances of which cases daily occur, both in public and 
 private. Nor is it to be supposed, that we can any more 
 promote the lasting good of our fellow creatures, by 
 acting from mere kind inclinations, without considering 
 what are the proper means of promoting it, than that we 
 can attain our own personal good, by a thoughtless pursuit 
 of every thing which pleases us. For the love of our 
 neighbour, as much as self-love, the social affections, as 
 much as the private ones, from their very nature, require 
 to be under the direction of our judgment. Yet it is to 
 be remembered, that it does in no sort become such a 
 creature as man to harden himself agahist the distresses 
 of his neighbour, except where it is really necessary; 
 and that even well-disposed persons may run into great 
 perplexities, and great mistakes too, by being over- 
 solicitous in distinguishing what are the most proper 
 occasions for their charity, or who the greatest objects of 
 it. And therefore, as on the one side we are obliged 
 to take some care not to squander that which, one may 
 say, belongs to the poor, as we shall do, unless we 
 competently satisfy ourselves beforehand, that what we 
 
252 A SERMON PEEACHED BEFORE THE 
 
 put to our account of charity will answer some good 
 purpose; so on the other side, when we are competently 
 satisfied of this, in any particular instance before us, we 
 ought by no means to neglect such present opportunity 
 of doing good, under the notion of making further 
 inquiries : for of these delays there will be no end. 
 
 Having thus briefly laid before you the ground of that 
 singular efficacy, which the text ascribes to charity in 
 general; obviated the objection against its having this 
 efficacy; and distinguished the virtue itself from its 
 counterfeits ; let us now proceed to observe the genuine- 
 ness and excellency of the particular charity, which w& 
 are here met together to promote. 
 
 Medicine and every other relief, under the calamity of 
 bodily diseases and casualties, no less than the daily ne- 
 cessaries of life, are natural provisions, which God has 
 made for our present indigent state ; and which he has 
 granted in common to the children of men, whether they 
 be poor or rich: to the rich by inheritance, or acquisition; 
 and by their hands to the disabled poor. 
 
 Nor can there be any doubt, but that public infirmaries 
 are the most effectual means of administering such relief; 
 besides that they are attended with incidental advantages 
 of great importance : both which things have been fully 
 shown, and excellently enforced, in the annual sermoni 
 upon this and the like occasions. 
 
 But indeed public infirmaries are not only the best^ 
 they are the only possible means by which the poor, 
 especially in this city, can be provided, in any competent 
 measure, with the several kinds of assistance, which 
 bodily diseases and casualties require. Not to mention poor 
 foreigners; it is obvious no other provision can be made 
 for poor strangers out of the country, when they are over- 
 taken by these calamities, as they often must be, whilst 
 they are occasionally attending their affairs in this centre 
 of business. But even the poor who are settled here are 
 in a manner strangers to the people amongst whom they 
 live; and, were it not for this provision, must unavoidably 
 be neglected, in the hurry and concourse around tltem,. 
 and be left unobserved to languish in sickness, and s ufier 
 extremely, much more than they could in less popalous 
 
Governors of the London infirmary. 253 
 
 places; where every one is known to every one; and 
 ■any great distress presently becomes the common talk ; 
 and where also poor families are often under the parti- 
 cular protection of some or other of their rich neighbours, 
 in a very different way from what is commonly the case 
 here. Observations of this kind show, that there is a 
 peculiar occasion, and even a necessity, in such a city as 
 this, for public infirmaries, to which easy admittance 
 may be had: and here in ours*no security is required, 
 nor any sort of gratification allowed; and that they 
 ought to be multiplied, or enlarged, proportionably to 
 the increase of our inhabitants : for to this the increase 
 of the poor will always bear proportion; though less in 
 ages of sobriety and diligence, and greater in ages of 
 profusion and debauchery. 
 
 Now though nothing, to be called an objection in the 
 way of argument, can be alleged against thus providing 
 for poor sick people, in the properest, indeed the only 
 way in which they can be provided for; yet persons of 
 too severe tempers can, even upon this occasion, talk in 
 a manner, which, contrary surely to their intention, has 
 a very malignant influence upon the spirit of charity — 
 talk of the ill deserts of the poor, the good uses they 
 might make of being let to suffer more than they do, 
 under distresses which they bring upon themselves, or 
 however might, by diligence and frugality, provide 
 against; and the idle uses they may make of knowing 
 beforehand that they shall be relieved in case of those 
 distresses. Indeed there is such a thing as a prejudice 
 against them, arising from their very state of poverty, 
 which ought greatly to be guarded against; a kind of 
 prejudice, to which perhaps most of us, upqn some 
 occasions, and in some degree, may inattentively be 
 liable, but which pride and interest may easily work up 
 to a settled hatred of them; the utter reverse of that 
 amiable part of the character of Job, that he was a father 
 to the poor.* But it is undoubtedly fit, that such of 
 them as are good and industrious should have the satis- 
 faction of knowing beforehand, that they shall be 
 je.ieved under diseases and casualties: and those, it is 
 
 * Job xxir. 16. 
 
254 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE THE 
 
 most obvious, ought to be relieved preferably to otners. 
 But these others, who are not of that good character,, 
 might possibly have the apprehension of those calamities 
 in so great a degree, as would be very mischievous, and 
 of no service, if they thought they must be left to perish, 
 under them. And though their idleness and extrava- 
 gance are very inexcusable, and ought by all reasonable 
 methods to be restrained; and they are highly to be 
 blamed for not making some provision against age and 
 supposable disasters, when it is in their power ; yet it is 
 not to be desired, that the anxieties of avarice should be 
 added to the natural inconveniences of poverty. 
 
 It is said, that our common fault towards the poor is 
 not harshness, but too great lenity and indulgence. And 
 if allowing them in debauchery, idleness, and open 
 beggary; in drunkenness, profane cursing and swearing 
 in our streets, nay in our houses of correction ; if this be 
 lenity, there is doubtless a great deal too much of it. 
 And such lenity towards the poor is very consistent with 
 the most cruel neglects of them, in the extreme misery 
 to which those vices reduce them. Now though this 
 last certainly is not our general fault; yet it cannot be 
 said every one is free from it. For this reason, and 
 that nothing, which has so much as the shadow of an 
 objection against our public charities, may be entirely 
 passed over, you will give me leave to consider a little 
 the supposed case above mentioned, though possibly 
 some may think it unnecessary, that of persons reduced 
 to poverty and distress by their own faults. 
 
 Instances of this there certainly are. But it ought to 
 be very distinctly observed, that in judging which are 
 such, we are liable to be mistaken : and more liable to it, 
 in judging to what degree those are faulty, who really 
 are so in some degree. However, we should always 
 look with mildness upon the behaviour of the poor; 
 and be sure not to expect more from them than can be 
 expected, in a moderate way of considering things. We 
 should be forward not only to admit and encourage the 
 good deserts of such as do well, but likewise as to those 
 of them who do not, be ever ready to make due allowances 
 for their bad education, or, which is the same, their 
 
GOVERNORS OF THE LONDON INFIRMARY. 255 
 
 having had none; for what may be owing to the ill 
 example of their superiors, as well as companions, and 
 for temptations of all kinds. And remember always, 
 that be men's vices what they will, they have not forfeited 
 their claim to relief under necessities, till they have 
 forfeited their lives to justice. 
 
 Our heavenly Father is T^ind to the unthankful and to the 
 evil; and sendeth his rain on the just and on the unjust.* 
 And, in imitation of him, our Saviour expressly requires, 
 that our beneficence be promiscuous. But we have 
 moreover the divine example for reheving those distresses 
 which are brought upon persons by their own faults ; and 
 this is exactly the case we are considering. Indeed the 
 general dispensation of Christianity is an example of this ; 
 for its general design is to save us from our sins, and the 
 punishments which would have been the just consequence 
 of them. But the divine example in the daily course of 
 nature is a more obvious and sensible one. And 
 though the natural miseries which are foreseen to be 
 annexed to a vicious course of life are providentially 
 intended to prevent it, in the same manner as civil 
 penalties are intended to prevent civil crimes ; yet those 
 miseries, those natural penalties admit of and receive 
 natural reliefs, no less than any other miseries, which 
 could not have been foreseen or prevented. Charitable 
 providence then, thus manifested in the course of nature, 
 which is the example of our heavenly Father, most 
 evidently leads us to relieve, not only such distresses as 
 were unavoidable, but also such as people by their own 
 faults have brought upon themselves. The case is, that 
 we cannot judge in what degree it was intended they 
 should suffer, by considering what, in the natural course 
 of things, would be the whole bad consequences of their 
 faults, if those consequences were not prevented, when 
 nature has provided means to prevent great part of them. 
 We cannot, for instance, estimate what degree of present 
 sufferings God has annexed to drunkenness, by consider- 
 ing the diseases which follow from this vice, as they 
 would be if they admitted of no reliefs or remedies; but 
 by considering the remaining misery of those diseases, 
 
 * Matt. V. 45. Luke vi. 35. 
 
256 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE THE 
 
 after the applicatipn of such remedies as nafure has 
 provided. For as it is certain on the one side, that those 
 diseases are providential corrections of intemperance, it 
 is as certain on the other, that the remedies are 
 providential mitigations of those corrections; and alto- 
 gether as much providential, when administered by the 
 good hand of charity in the case of our neighbour, as 
 when administered by self-love in our own. Thus the 
 pain, and danger, and other distresses of sickness and 
 poverty remaining, after all the charitable relief which 
 can be procured; and the many uneasy circumstances 
 which cannot but accompany that relief, though distributed 
 with all supposable humanity; these are the natural cor- 
 rections of idleness and debauchery, supposing these 
 vices brought on those miseries. And very severe 
 corrections they are : and they ought not to be increased 
 by withholding that relief, or by harshness in the distri- 
 bution of it. Corrections of all kinds, even the most 
 necessary ones, may easily exceed their proper bound: 
 and when they do so, they become mischievous; and 
 mischievous in the measure they exceed it. And the 
 natural corrections which we have been speaking of 
 would be excessive, if the natural mitigations provided 
 for them were not administered. 
 
 Then persons who are so scrupulously apprehensive 
 of every thing which ^an possibly, in the most indirect 
 manner, encourage idleness and vice (which, by the way, 
 any thing may accidentally do), ought to turn their 
 thoughts to the moral and religious tendency of 
 infirmaries. The religious manner in which they are 
 carried on has itself a direct tendency to bring the 
 subject of religion into the consideration of those whom 
 they relieve ; and, in some degree, to recommend it 
 to their love and practice, as it is productive of so 
 much good to them, as restored ease and health, and 
 a capacity ofresuming their several employments. It is 
 to virtue and religion, they may mildly be admonished, 
 that they are indebted for their relief. And this, 
 amongst other admonitions of their spiritual guide, and 
 the quiet and order of their house, out of the way of 
 bad examples, together with a regular course of devotion, 
 
GOVERNORS OF THE LONDON INFIRMARY. 257 
 
 ■which it were greatly to be wished might be daily ; these 
 means, it is to be hoped, with the common grace of 
 ■God, may enforce deeply upon their consciences those 
 serious considerations, to which a state of affliction 
 naturally renders the mind attentive, and that they will 
 return, as from a religious retreat, to their several 
 . employments in the world, with lasting impressions of 
 piety in their hearts. By such united advantages, which 
 these poor creatures can in no sort have any other way, 
 very remarkable reformations have been wrought. 
 Persons of the strictest characters therefore would give 
 a more satisfactory proof, not to the world, but to their 
 own consciences, of their desire to suppress vice and 
 idleness, by setting themselves to cultivate the religious 
 part of the institution of infirmaries, which, I think, 
 would admit of great improvements; than by allowing 
 themselves to talk in a manner which tends to discoun- 
 tenance either the institution itself, or any particular 
 branch of it. 
 
 Admitting then the usefulness and necessity of these 
 kinds of charity, which indeed cannot be denied; yet 
 every thing has its bounds. And, in the spirit of severity 
 before mentioned, it is imagined, that people are enough 
 disposed, such, it seems, is the present turn, to contribute 
 largely to them. And some, whether from dislike of the 
 charities themselves, or from mere profligateness, think 
 these formal recommendations of them at church every year 
 might very well be spared. 
 
 But surely it is desirable, that a customary way should 
 he kept open for removing prejudices as they may arise 
 against these institutions; for rectifying any misrepre- 
 ;sentations which may, at any time, be made of them ; 
 and informing the public of any new emergencies ; as 
 well as for repeatedly enforcing the known obligations of 
 charity, and the excellency of this particular kind of it. 
 Then sermons, you know, amongst Protestants, always 
 of course accompany these more solemn appearances in 
 the house of God: nor will these latter be kept up 
 without the other. Now public devotions should evei 
 attend and consecrate public charities. And it would 
 be a sad presage of the decay of these charities, if ever 
 
 R 
 
258 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE THE 
 
 they should cease to be professedly carried ofi in the- 
 fear of God, and upon the principles of rehgion. It may 
 be added, that real charitable persons will approve of 
 these frequent exhortations to charity, even though they 
 should be conscious that they do not themselves stand 
 in need of them, upon account of such as do. And such 
 can possibly have no right to complain of being too often 
 admonished of their duty, till they are pleased to practise 
 it. It is true indeed, we have the ptisfaction of seeing 
 a spirit of beneficence prevail, in a very commendable 
 degree, amongst all ranks of people, and in a very 
 distinguished manner in some persons amongst the 
 highest; yet it is evident, too many of all ranks are very 
 deficient in it, who are of great ability, and of whom 
 much might be expected. Though every thing therefore 
 were done in behalf of the poor which is wanted, yet 
 these persons ought repeatedly to be told, how highly 
 blamable they are for letting it be done without them ;. 
 and done by persons, of whom great numbers must have 
 much less ability than they. 
 
 But whoever can really think, that the necessities of 
 the disabled poor are sufficiently provided for already, 
 must be strangely prejudiced. If one were to send you 
 to them themselves to be better informed, you would 
 readily answer, that their demands would be very extra- 
 vagant; that persons are not to be their own judges in 
 claims of justice, much less in those of charity. You 
 then, I am speaking to the hard people above mentioned, 
 you are to judge, what provision is to be made for the 
 necessitous, so far as it depends upon your contributions. 
 But ought you not to remember that you are interested, 
 that you are parties in the affair as well as they. For is 
 not the giver as really so as the receiver? And as there 
 is danger that the receiver will err one way, is there not 
 danger that the giver may err the other.P since it is not 
 matter of arbitrary choice, which has no rule, but matter 
 of real equity, to be considered as in the presence of 
 God, what provision shall be made for the poor ? And 
 therefore, though you are yourselves the only judges, 
 what you will do in their behalf, for the case admits no 
 other; yet let me tell you, you will not be i«- partial. 
 
GOVERNORS OF THE LONDON INFIRMARY 259 
 
 you -^ill not be equitable judges, until you have guarded 
 against the intiuence which interest is apt to have upon 
 your judgment, and cultivated within you the spirit of 
 charity to balance it. Then you will see the various 
 remaining necessities which call for relief. But that 
 there are many such must be evident at first sight to the 
 most careless observer, were it only from hence, that 
 both this and the other hospitals are often obliged to 
 reject poor objects which offer, even for want of room, 
 or wards to contain them. 
 
 Notwithstanding many persons have need of these 
 admonitions, yet there is a good spirit of beneficence, as 
 I observed, pretty generally prevailing. And I must 
 congratulate you upon the great success it has given to 
 the particular good work before us; great, I think, 
 beyond all example for the time it has subsisted. Nor 
 would it be unsuitable to the present occasion to recount 
 the particulars of this success. For the necessary 
 accommodations which have been provided, and the 
 numbers who have been relieved, in so short a time, 
 cannot but give high reputation to the London Infirmary. 
 And the reputation of any particular charity, like credit 
 in trade, is so much real advantage, without the incon- 
 veniences to which that is sometimes liable. It will 
 bring in contributions for its support; and men of 
 character, as they shall be wanted, to assist in the 
 management of it; men of skill in the professions, men 
 of conduct in business, to perpetuate, improve, and 
 bring it to perfection. So that you, the contributors to 
 this charity, and more especially those of you by whose 
 immediate care and economy it is in so high repute, are 
 encouraged to go on with your labour of love* not only 
 by the present good, which you see is here done, but 
 hkewise by the prospect of what will probably be done, 
 by your means, in future times, when this infirmary shall 
 become, as I hope it will, no less renowned than the city 
 in which it is established. 
 
 But to se9 how far it is from being yet complete, for 
 want of contributions, one need only look upon the 
 settled rules of the house for admission of patients. See 
 there the limitations which necessity prescribes, as to 
 
 • Heh. m. 10. 
 R2 
 
260 A SERMON PKEACHED BEFORE THE 
 
 the persons to be admitted. Read but that one order, 
 though others might be mentioned, that none who are 
 judged to be in an asthmatic, consumptive, or dying condition, 
 be admitted on any account whatsoever. Harsh as these 
 words sound, they proceed out of the mouth of Charity 
 herself. Charity pronounces it to be better, that poor 
 creatures, who might receive much ease and reUef, should 
 be denied it, if their case does not admit of recovery, 
 rather than that others, whose case does admit of it, be 
 left to perish. But it shocks humanity to hear such an 
 alternative mentioned ; and to think, that there should 
 be a necessity, as there is at present, for such restrictions, 
 in one of the most beneficent and best managed schemes 
 in the world. May more numerous or larger contribu- 
 tions, at length, open a door to such as these ; that what 
 renders their case in the highest degree compassionable, 
 their languishing under incurable diseases, may no longer 
 exclude them from the house of mercy. 
 
 But besides the persons to whom I have been now 
 more particularly speaking, there are others, who do not 
 cast about for excuses for not contributing to the relief 
 of the necessitous ; perhaps are rather disposed to relieve 
 them ; who yet are not so careful as they ought to be, 
 to put themselves into a capacity of doing it. For we 
 are as really accountable for not doing the good which 
 we might have in our power to do, if we would manage 
 our affairs with prudence, as we are for, not doing the 
 good which is in our power now at present. And hence 
 arise the obligations of economy upon people in the 
 highest, as well as in the lower stations of life, in order 
 to enable themselves to do that good, which, without 
 economy, both of them must be incapable of; even 
 though without it they could answer the strict demands 
 of justice; which yet we find neither of them can. A 
 good man sheweth favour, and lendeth; and, to enable 
 himself to do so, he will guide his affairs with discretion* 
 For want of this, many a one has reduced his family to 
 the necessity of asking relief from those public charities, 
 to which he might have left them in a condition of 
 largely contributixig. 
 
 As economy is the duty of all persons, without excep- 
 
 * Psalm cxii. S. 
 
GOVERNORS OF THE LONDON INlTRMARY. 261 
 
 tion, frugality and diligence are duties which particularly 
 belong to the middle as well as lower ranks of men, 
 and more particularly still to persons in trade and 
 commerce, whatever their fortunes be. For trade and 
 commerce cannot otherwise be carried on, but is plainly 
 inconsistent with idleness and profusion: though indeed 
 were it only from regard to propriety, and to avoid 
 being absurd, every one should conform his behaviour 
 to what his situation in life requires, without which 
 the order of society must be broken in upon. And 
 considering how inherited riches and a life of leisure 
 are often employed, the generality of mankind have 
 cause to be thankful that their station exempts them 
 from so great temptations; that it engages them in a. 
 sober care of their expenses, and in a course of appli- 
 cation to business : especially as these virtues, moreover,, 
 tend to give them, what is an excellent groundwork for 
 all others, a stayed equality of temper and command of 
 their passions. But when a man is diligent and frugal,, 
 in order to have it in his power to do good; when he is 
 more industrious, or more sparing perhaps than his 
 circumstances necessarily require, that he may have to 
 give to him that needeth;* when he labours in order to 
 support the weak;^ such care of his affairs is itself cha- 
 rity, and the actual beneficence which it enables him to 
 practise is additional charity. 
 
 Yo-u will easily see why I insist thus upon these things, 
 because I would particularly recommend the good 
 work before us to all ranks of people in this great city. 
 And I think I have reason to do so, from the considera- 
 tion, that it very particularly belongs to them to promote 
 it. The gospel indeed teaches us to look upon every 
 one in distress as our neighbour, yet neighbourhood in 
 the literal sense, and likewise several other circum- 
 stances, are providential recommendations of such and 
 such charities, and excitements to them ; without which 
 the necessitous would suffer much more than they do at 
 present. For our general disposition to beneficence would 
 not be sufficiently directed, and in other respects would 
 be very ineffectual, if it were not called forth into actiou 
 
 » Ephca. iv. 28. + Acts xx. 35. • 
 
262 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE THE 
 
 by some or other of those providential circumstances, 
 which form particular relations between the rich and the 
 poor, and are of course regarded by every one in some 
 degree. But though many persons among you, both in 
 the way of contributions, and in other ways no less 
 useful, have done even more than was to be expected, 
 yet I must be allowed to say, that I do not think the 
 relation the inhabitants of this city bear to the persons 
 for whom our infirmary was principally designed, is 
 sufficiently attended to by the generality; which maybe 
 owing to its late establishment. It is, you know, de- 
 signed principally for diseased manufacturers, seamen in 
 merchant-service, and their wives and children: and poor 
 manufacturers comprehend all who are employed in any 
 labour whatever belonging to trade and comjnerce. The 
 description of these objects shows their relation, and a 
 very near one it is, to you, my neighbours, the inhabi- 
 tants of this city. If any of your domestic servants were 
 disa-bled by sickness, there is none of you but would 
 think himself bound to do somewhat for their relief 
 Now these seamen and manufacturers are employed in 
 your immediate business. They are servants of mer- 
 chants, and other principal traders; as much your 
 servants as if they lived under your roof: though by 
 their not doing so, the relation is less in sight. And 
 supposing they do not all depend upon traders of lower 
 rank in exactly the same manner, yet many of them do ; 
 and they have all connexions with you, which give them 
 a claim to your charity preferably to strangers. They 
 are indeed servants of the public; and so are all indus- 
 trious poor people as well as they. But that does not 
 hinder the latter from being more immediately yours. 
 And as their being, servants to the public is a general 
 recommendation of this charity to all other persons, sO 
 their being more immediately yours, is, surely, a par- 
 ticular recommendation of it to you. Notwithstanding 
 all this, I will .not take upon me to say, that every 
 one of you is blamable who does not contribute to 
 your infirmary, for yours it is in a peculiar sense; 
 but 1 will say, that those of you who do are highly 
 commendable. I will say more, that you promote a 
 
GOVERNORS OP THE LONDON INFIRMARY. 263 
 
 -very excellent work, which your particular station is a 
 providential call upon you to promote. And there can 
 be no stronger reason than this for doing any thing, 
 except the one reason, that it would be criminal to 
 omit it. 
 
 These considerations, methinks, might induce every 
 trader of higher rank in this city to become a subscriber 
 to the infirmary which is named from it; and others of 
 you to contribute somewhat yearly to it, in the way in 
 which smaller contributions are given. This would be 
 a most proper offering out of your increase to him, 
 whose blessing maketh rich* Let it be more or less, 
 every man according as he purposeth in his heart; not 
 grudgingly, or of necessity : for God loveth a cheerful giver. f 
 
 The large benefactions of some persons of ability may 
 be necessary in the first establishment of a pubhc 
 charity, and are greatly useful afterwards in maintaining 
 it: but the expenses of this before us, in the extent and 
 degree of perfection to which one would hope it might 
 be brought, cannot be effectually supported, any more 
 than the expenses of civil government, without the 
 contribution of great numbers. You have already the 
 assistance of persons of highest rank and fortune, of 
 which the list of our governors, and the present appear- 
 ance, are illustrious examples. And their assistance 
 would be far from lessening by a general contribution to 
 it amongst yourselves. On the contrary, the general 
 contribution to it amongst yourselves, which I have been 
 proposing, would give it still higher repute, and more 
 invite such persons to continue their assistance, and 
 accept the honour of being in its direction. For the 
 greatest persons receive honour from taking the direction 
 of a good work, as they likewise give honour to it. And 
 by these concurrent endeavours, our infirmary might at 
 length be brought to answer, in some competent mea- 
 sure, to the occasions of our city. 
 
 Blessed are they who employ their riches in promoting 
 so excellent a design. The temporal advantages of 
 them are far from coming up, in enjoyment, to what 
 they promise at a distance. But the distinguished 
 
 * Prov. X. S2. t 2 Cor. ix. 7. 
 
264 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE THE 
 
 privilege, the prerogative of riches, is, that they increase"^ 
 our power of doing good. This is their proper use. In 
 proportion as men make this use of them, they imitate 
 Almighty God; and co-operate together with him in 
 promoting the happiness of the world; and may expect 
 the most favourable judgment, which their case will 
 admit of, at the last day, upon the general, repeated 
 maxim of the gospel, that we shall then be treated 
 ourselves as we now treat others. They have moreover 
 the prayers of all good men, those of them particularly 
 whom they have befriended; and, by such exercise of 
 charity, they improve within themselves the temper of 
 it, which is the very temper of heaven. Consider next 
 the peculiar force with which this branch of charity,, 
 almsgiving, is recommended to us in these words; He 
 that hath pity upon the poor lendeth unto the Lord:* and 
 in these of our Saviour, Verily I say unto you. Inasmuch 
 as ye have done it, relieved the sick and needy, unto one 
 of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me A 
 Beware you do not explain away these passages of" 
 Scripture, under the notion, that they have been made 
 to serve superstitious purposes: but ponder them fairly 
 in your heart ; and you will feel them to be of irresistible 
 weight. Lastly, let us remember, in how many instances 
 we have all left undone those things which we ought to 
 have done, and done those things which we ought not 
 to have done. Now whoever has a serious sense of this 
 will most earnestly desire to supply the good, which he 
 was obliged to have done, but has not, and undo the 
 evil which he has done, or neglected to prevent; andi 
 when that is impracticable, to make amends, in some 
 other way, for his offences — I can mean only to our 
 fellow creatures. To make amends, in some way or 
 other, to a particular person, against whom we have 
 offended, either by positive injury, or by neglect; is an 
 express condition of our obtaining forgiveness of God,, 
 when it is in our power to make it. And when it is not, 
 surely the next best thing is to make amends to society 
 by fervent charity, in a course of doing good: which- 
 riches, as I observed, put very much within our power.. 
 
 * Prov. xix. 17. t Matt, xxv, <0. 
 
GOVERNORS OF THE LONDON INFIRMARY. 265 
 
 How unhappy a choice then do those rich men make, 
 who sacrifice all these high prerogatives of their state, 
 to the wretched purposes of dissoluteness and vanity, or 
 to the sordid itch of heaping up, to no purpose at all; 
 whilst in the mean time they stand charged with the 
 important trust, in which they are thus unfaithful, and 
 of which a strict account remains to be given I 
 
CHARGE 
 
 DSUVBRED to 
 
 THE CLERGY 
 
 AT THE 
 
 PRIMARY VISITATION OF THE DIOCESS OF DURHAM, 
 
 IN THE YEAR MDCCLI.* 
 
 It is impossible for me, my brethren, upon our first 
 meeting of this kind, to forbear lamenting with you the 
 general decay of religion in this nation; which is now 
 observed by every one, and has been for some time the 
 complaint of all serious persons. The influence of it is 
 more and more wearing out of the minds of men, even 
 of those who do not pretend to enter into speculations 
 upon the subject: but the number of those who do, and 
 who profess themselves unbelievers, increases, and with 
 their numbers their zeal. Zeal, it is natural to ask — for 
 what.P Why truly /or nothing, but against every thing 
 that is good and sacred amongst us. 
 
 Indeed, whatever efforts are made against our religion, 
 no Christian can possibly despair of it. For he, who 
 has all power in heaven and earth, has promised, that he 
 will be with us to the end of the world. Nor can the 
 present decline of it be any stumbling-block to such as are 
 considerate; since he himself has so strongly expressed 
 what is as remarkably predicted in other passages of 
 Scripture, the great defection from his religion which 
 should be in the latter days, by that prophetic question, 
 When the Son of man cometh, shall he find faith upon the 
 
 * The publication of Bishop Butler's Charge, in the year 1751, was followed by a 
 pamphlet, printed in 1752, entitled, "A Serious Inquiiy into the Use and Importance 
 of External Religion, occasioned by some passages in the Right Reverend the Lord 
 Bishop of Durham's Charge to the Clerey of that Diocess, &c., humbly addressed to 
 his Lordship." This pampliltjt has been reprinted in a miscellaneous work : such part* 
 of it as seemed most wortliy of observation, tlie reader will find in tlie foUowiiig note 
 upon those passages of the Charge to wliich the pamphlet refers. 
 
CHARGE TO THE CLERGY OF DURHAM. 267 
 
 -earth? How near this time is, God only knows; but 
 this kind of Scripture signs of it is too apparent. For 
 as different ages have been distinguished by different 
 sorts of particular errors and vices, the deplorable dis- 
 tinction of ours is an avowed scorn of religion in some, 
 and a growing disregard to it in the generality. 
 
 As to the professed enemies of religion, I know not 
 how often they may come in your way ; but often enough, 
 I fear, in the way of some at least amongst you, to 
 require consideration, what is the proper behaviour 
 towards them. One would, to be sure, avoid great 
 familiarities with these persons; especially if they affect 
 to be licentious and profane in their common talk. Yet 
 if you fall into their company, treat them with the regards 
 which belong to their rank; for so we must people who 
 are vicious in any other respect. We should study what 
 St James, with wonderful elegance and expressiveness, 
 calls meekness of wisdom, in our behaviour towards all 
 men; but more especially towards these men; not so 
 much as being what we owe to them, but to ourselves 
 and our religion; that we may adorn the doctrine of God 
 •our Saviour, in our carriage towards those who labour to 
 vilify it. 
 
 For discourse with them; the caution commonly given, 
 not to attempt answering objections which we have not 
 considered, is certainly just. Nor need any one in a 
 particular case be ashamed frankly to acknowledge his 
 ignorance, provided it be not general. And though it 
 were, to talk of what he is not acquainted with, is a 
 dangerous method of endeavouring to conceal it. But a 
 considerate person, however qualified he be to defend 
 his religion, and answer the objections he hears made 
 against it, may sometimes see cause to decline that office. 
 Sceptical and profane men are extremely apt to bring up 
 this subject at meetings of entertainment, and such as 
 are of the freer sort: innocent ones I mean, otherwise I 
 should not suppose you would be present at them. Now 
 rehgion is by far too serious a matter to be the hackney 
 subject upon these occasions. And by preventing its 
 being made so, you will better secure the reverence 
 ^hich is due to it, than by entering, into its defence. 
 
268 CHARGE TO THE 
 
 Every one observes, that men's having examples of 
 vice often before their eyes, familiarizes it to the mind, 
 and has a tendency to take off that just abhorrence of 
 it which the innocent at first felt, even though it should 
 not alter their judgment of vice, or make them really 
 believe it to be less evil or dangerous. In like manner, 
 the hearing religion often disputed about in light familiar 
 conversation, has a tendency to lessen that sacred regard 
 to it, which a good man woild endeavour always to 
 keep up, both in himself and others. But this is not all: 
 people are too apt inconsiderately to take for granted^ 
 that things are really questionable, because they hear 
 them often disputed. This indeed is so far from being, 
 a consequence, that we know demonstrated truths have 
 been disputed, and even matters of fact, the objects of 
 our senses. But were it a consequence, were the 
 evidence of religion no more than doubtful, then it 
 ought not to be concluded false any more than true, nor 
 denied any more than affirmed ; for suspense would be 
 the reasonable state of mind with regard to it. And 
 then it ought in all reason, considering its infinite 
 importance, to have nearly the same influence upon 
 practice, as if it were thoroughly believed. For would 
 it not be madness for a man to forsake a safe road, and 
 prefer to it one in which he acknowledges there is an 
 even chance he should lose his life, though there were 
 an even chance likewise of his getting safe through it ? 
 Yet there are people absurd enough, to take the supposed 
 doubtfulness of religion for the same thing as a proof of 
 its falsehood, after they have concluded it doubtful from 
 hearing it often called in question. This shows how 
 infinitely unreasonable sceptical men are, with regard to 
 religion, and that they really lay aside their reason upon 
 this subject as much as the most extravagant enthusiasts. 
 But further, caviUing and objecting upon any subject is 
 much easier thaii clearing up difficulties: and this last 
 part will always be put upon the defenders of rehgion. 
 Now a man may be fully convinced of the truth of a 
 matter, and upon the strongest reasons, and yet not be 
 able to answer all the difficulties which may be raised 
 apon it. 
 
CLEKGY OF DURHAM. 269 
 
 Then again, the general evidence of religion is com- 
 plex and various. It consists of a long series of things, 
 one preparatory to and confirming another, from the 
 very beginning of the world to the present time. And 
 it is easy to see how impossible it must be, in a cursory 
 conversation, to unite all this into one argument, and 
 represent it as it ought; and, could it be done, how 
 utterly indisposed people would be to attend to it— I 
 say ill a cursory conversation: whereas unconnected 
 objections are thrown out in a few words, and are easily 
 apprehended, without more attention than is usual in 
 common talk. So that, notwithstanding we have the 
 best cause in the world, and though a man were very 
 capable of defending it, yet I know not why he should 
 be forward to undertake it upon so great a disadvantage, 
 and to so Uttle good effect, as it must be done amidst 
 the gaiety and carelessness of common conversation. 
 
 But then it will be necessary to be very particularly 
 upon your guard, that you may not seem, by way of 
 compliance, to join in with any levity of discourse 
 respecting religion. Nor would one let any pretended 
 argument against it pass entirely without notice ; nor any 
 gross ribaldry upon it, without expressing our thorough 
 disapprobation. This last may sometimes be done by 
 silence: for silence sometimes is very expressive; as 
 was that of our blessed Saviour before the Sanhedrim 
 and before Pilate. Or it may be done by observing 
 mildly, that religion deserves another sort of treatment, 
 or a more thorough consideration, than such a time, or 
 such circumstances admit. However, as it is absolutely 
 necessary, that we take care, by diligent reading and 
 study, to be always prepared, to be ready always to give 
 an ansioer to every man that aslceth a reason of the hope 
 that is in us; so there may be occasions when it will 
 highly become us to do it. And then we must take 
 care to do it in the spirit which the apostle requires, 
 with meekness and fear:* meekness towards those who 
 give occasions for entering into the defence of our 
 religion; and with /ear, not of them, but of God; with 
 that reverential fear, which the nature of religion requires, 
 
 « lFet.Ui.15^ 
 
270 CHARGE TO THE 
 
 and which is so far from being inconsistent with, that it 
 will inspire proper courage towards men. Now this 
 reverential fear will lead us to insist strongly upon the 
 infinite greatness of God's scheme of government, both 
 in extent and duration, together with the wise connexion 
 of its parts, and the impossibility of accounting fully for 
 the several parts, without seeing the whole plan of 
 Providence to which they relate; which is beyond the 
 utmost stretch of our understanding. And to all this 
 must be added the necessary deficiency of human 
 language, when things divine are the subject of it. These 
 observations are a proper full answer to many objections,, 
 and very material with regard to all. 
 
 But your standing business, and which requires con- 
 stant attention, is with the body of the people ; to revive 
 in them the spirit of religion, which is so much declining. 
 And it may seem, that whatever reason there be for 
 caution as to entering into an argumentative defence of 
 religion in common conversation, yet that it is necessary to 
 do this from the pulpit, in order to guard the people 
 against being corrupted, however in some places. But 
 then surely it should be done in a manner as little 
 controversial as possible. For though such as are capable 
 of seeing the force of objections are capable also of 
 seeing the force of the answers which are given to them ; 
 yet the truth is, the people will not competently attend to 
 either. But it is easy to see which they will attend ta 
 most. And to hear rehgion treated of as what many 
 deny, and which has much said against it as well as for 
 it; this cannot but have a tendency to give them ill 
 impressions at any time; and seems particularly improper 
 for all persons at a time of devotion ; even for such as 
 are arrived at the most settled state of piety: I say at a 
 time of devotion, when we are assembled to yield our- 
 selves up to the full influence of the Divine Presence, 
 and to call forth into actual exercise every pious affection 
 of heart. For it is to be repeated, that the heart and 
 course of affections may be disturbed when there is no 
 alteration of judgment. Now the evidence of religion may- 
 be laid before men without any air of controversy. The 
 proof of the being of God, from final causes, or the design 
 
CLERGY OF DURHAM. 271 
 
 and wisdom which appears in every part of nature ; to- 
 gether with the law of virtue written upon our hearts :* the 
 proof of Christianity from miracles, and the accomplish- 
 ment of prophecies; and the confirmation which the 
 natural and civil history of the world give to the Scripture 
 account of things: these evidences of rehgion might 
 properly be insisted on, in a way to affect and influence 
 the heart, though there were no professed unbelievers 
 in the world; and therefore may be insisted on, without 
 taking much notice that there are such. And even their 
 
 * The author of the Inquiry, mentioned above, informs us, in his postscript, that 
 " the certain consequence of referring- mankind to a law of nature, or virtue, written 
 upon their hearts, is tlieir having recourse to their own sense of things on all occasions ; 
 wliich being, in a great majority, no better tlian family superstition, party-prejudice, 
 or self-interested artifice (perliaps a compound of all), will be too apt to overrule the 
 plain precepts of the gospel." And he declares, he has " no better opinion of the 
 clearness, certainty, tmiformity, universality, he, oi this law, than" he has "of tlie 
 importance of external religion." What then must we say to St Paul, wlio not only 
 asserts, in the strongest terms, the reality of such a law, but speiiks of its obligation 
 as extending to all mankind ? blaming some among the Gentiles as without excuse, for 
 not adverting to and obeying it; and commending others for iloing by nature (in con- 
 tradistinction to revelation) the things contained in the law, thus showing the work of 
 the law written in their hearts. If, becimse " natural religion is liable to be misuiken, 
 it is high time to have done with it in the pulpit;" how comes it that the same apostle 
 refers ihe Philippians to the study of this Tf\ipon,to whatsoever things are true, honesf^ 
 just, lovely, and of good report 9 And yet, witliout such a study, our knowledge of 
 the moral law must always remain imperfect ; for a complete system of morality is 
 certainly no where to be found either in the Old or New Testament. -f When a 
 Christian minister is enforcing the duties or doctrines of revealed religion, he may 
 perhaps do well to "tell his people he has no other proof of tlie original, truth, obli 
 gatioiis, present benefits and future rewards of religion, to lay before them, than what 
 is contained in the Scriptures." But what if his pui'pose be to inculcate some mojal 
 virtue? Will it not be useful here, besides o!)ser\ing that the practice of that virtue 
 is enjoined by a divine command, to reconmiend it still further to his hearers, by 
 showing that it approves itself to our inward sense and perception, and accords with 
 the native sentiments and suggesticms of our minds? Metapiiysicians may say what 
 they will of our feelings of this sort being all illusive, liable to he perverted by 
 education and' habit, and judged of by men's own sense of things; they, whose 
 understandings are yet unspoiled by philosophy and vain deceit, wilLbe little disposed to 
 listen to such assertions. Nor are theie wanting arguments"whioh prove, and, as 
 shoulil seem, to the satisfaction of every reasonable inquirer, that the great and leading 
 principles of mordl duties have in all ages been the same; that such virtues as bene- 
 volence, justice, compassio.n, gratitude, accidental obstacles removed, and when the 
 precise meaning of the words has been once explained, are instinctively known and 
 approved by all men ; and that our approbation of these is as much a part of our 
 iiature implanted in us ijy God, and as little liable to caprice and feshion, as the sense 
 of seeing, given us also by him, by which all bodies appear to us in an^erect, and not 
 an inverted position.^ Mr Locke's authority has been generally looked up to as 
 decisive on such questions ; and his sentiments have been embraced implicitly, and 
 without examination. That great and good man, however, is not to be charged with 
 the pernicious consequences which others have drawn from liis opinions : consequences 
 which have been cariied to such a length, as to destroy all moral difference of human 
 actions ; making virtue and vice altogether arbitral? ; calling evil good, and good 
 evil; pulling darkness ftr light, and light for darkness; putting bitter far sweet, and 
 sweet for bitter. 
 
 < See the second of Dr BaIi;oy'» diarjes. t See the third of Bishop Hard's Sermon!, vol. L 
 
272 CHARGK TO THE 
 
 particular objections may be obviated without a formal 
 mention of them. Besides, as to religion in general, it 
 is a practical thing, and no otherwise a matter of specu- 
 lation, than common prudence in the management of 
 our worldly affairs is so. And if one were endeavouring 
 to bring a plain man to be more careful with regard to 
 this last, it would be thought a strange method of doing 
 it, to perplex him with stating formally the several 
 objections which men of gaiety or speculation have 
 made a-gainst prudence, and the advantages which they 
 pleasantly tell us folly has over it; though one could 
 answer those objections ever so fully. 
 
 Nor does the want of religion in the generaUty of the 
 common people appear owing to a speculative disbelief 
 or denial of it, but chiefly to thoughtlessness and the 
 common temptations of life. Your chief business there- 
 fore is to endeavour to beget a practical sense of it upon 
 their hearts, as what they acknowledge their belief of, 
 and profess they ought to conform themselves to. And 
 this is to be done by keeping up, as we are able, the 
 form and face of religion with decency and reverence, 
 and in such a degree as to bring the thoughts of religion 
 often to their minds ;* and then endeavouring to make 
 this form more and more subservient to promote the 
 reality and power of it. The form of religion may 
 indeed be where there is little of the thing- itself; but 
 the thing itself cannot be preserved amongst mankind 
 without the form.t And this form frequently occurring 
 
 • To this it is said by our inquirer, that " the clergy of the church of England 
 have no way of keeping up the form and face of religion, any o/tener, or in ant/ other 
 degree, than is directed hy the prescribed order of the churcli." As if the whole duty 
 of a parish priest consisted in reading prayers and a sermon on Sundays, and performing 
 the occasional offices appointed in the liturgy ! One would think the writer who made 
 this objection had never read more of the Charge than the four pages he has parti- 
 cularly selected for the subject of his animadvei'sions. Had he looked further, 
 he would have found other methods recommended to the clergy, of introducing a 
 sense of religion into the minds of tlieir parishioners which occur muck oflener than 
 the times allotted for the public services of the church: such as family pniyers; 
 acknowledging the divine bounty at our meals; personal applications from ministers 
 of parishes to individuals under tlieir care, on particular occasions and circumstances : 
 Bs at the time of confirmation, at first receiving the holy communion, on recovery 
 from sickness, and the like; none of which are prescribe in our established ritual, 
 nny more than those others so ludicrously mentioned by this writer, "bowing to tlie 
 east, turning the face to that quarter in repeating the creeds, dipping the finger ia 
 WHter, and therewith crossing the child's forehead in baptism." 
 
 f The quakers reject all lorms, even the two of Christ's own institution : will it 
 be said, that " these men have no religion preserved among them i" It wiU neither 
 
CLERGY OF DURHAM. 273 
 
 ■in some instance or other of it will be a frequent admo- 
 nition to bad men to repent, and to good men to grow- 
 better; and also be the means of their doing so.* 
 
 That which men have accomited religion in the several 
 countries of the world, generally speaking, has had a 
 great and conspicuous part in all public appearances, 
 and the face of it been kept up with great reverence 
 throughout all ranks, from the highest to the lowest ; 
 not only upon occasional solemnities, but also ii\ the daily 
 course of behaviour. In the heathen world, their 
 superstition was the chief subject of statuary, sculpture, 
 painting, and poetry. It mixed itself with business, civil 
 forms, diversions, domestic entertainments, and every 
 part of common life. The Mahometans are obliged to 
 short devotions five times between morning and evening. 
 In Roman Catholic countries, people' cannot pass a day 
 without having religion recalled to their thoughts, by 
 some or other memorial of it; by some ceremony or 
 public religious form occurring in their way:t besides 
 
 be said nor insinuated. The quakers, though they have not the form, are careful to 
 keep up the face of religion ; as appears not only from the custom of assembling 
 tJiemselves for the purposes of public worship on tlie Lord's day, but fiom their 
 silent mpetings on other days of the wiek. And that they are equally sensible of 
 the importance of maintaining the influence of religion on their minds, is manifest 
 from tlie pj-actice of what they call inward prayer, in conformity to the direction of 
 Scripture to proy con/iMMd//* : "wjiich," saith Robert Barclay, "cannot be under- 
 stooil iff outward prayer, because it were impossible that men should be always upon 
 their knees, expressing the words of prayer; whicli would hinder them from the 
 exercise of tlio^e duties no liss positively commanded." — -lipology for the Quakers, 
 Trop. xi. Of fVorship. 
 
 * Here it lias been objected, that "the nvmher, varieti/,anafrejJient occurrence ol 
 forms in religion, are too apt to be considered by the geHcrality as commutations for 
 tlieir vi<:e.s, as something substituted in lieu of repentance, as loads and encumbrances 
 upon true Clirislian edification." This way of arguing against the use of a thing 
 from the abuse of it, instead of arguihg from the nnture of the thing itself, is the 
 master sophism that pervades the whole performance we are here examining. What 
 reasonaljle man ever denied, that the pomp of outward worship has been sometimes 
 )ni~tiiken for inward piety ? that positive institutions, when rested in as ends, instead 
 of b.'ing applied as means, are hurtful to the interests of true religion ? Not Bishop 
 Butler cer;aiiily, who blames the observances of the papists on this account, some of 
 tiem as being "in themselves wrong and superstitious;" and others, as being 
 "made sul)S«rvient to the purposes of supei-stition," and for this reason "abolished 
 by our reformers." In the mean while, it will still be true, that bodily worship is 
 by no means to be discarded, as uinisefiil in exciting spiritual devotion ; on the con- 
 trary that they mutuidly assist and strengthen each other; and that a mere mental 
 intercourse with God, and a religions service purely intellectual, is altogether 
 Un^iuitJilile to such a crentn/e as man, durijiaf liis present state on earth. 
 
 •!• " What in tlie former period" (wlieii speaking of the heathen world) "was called 
 superstition, licconies in this" (when speaking of Roman Catholics) "religion, and 
 religious forms; wliich the papists pretending to coi.nect with Christianity, and the 
 Charge givin"- no hint that this is no more than a pretence, a plain reader must needs 
 lake tills as spoken of the m.euns and memorials of true religion, and will acconiiiigly 
 
 s 
 
274 CHARGE TO THE 
 
 their frequent holydays, the short prayers they are daily 
 called to, and the occasional devotion enjoined by con- 
 fessors. By these means their superstition sinks deepv 
 into the minds of the people, and their rehgion also into 
 the minds of such among them as are serious and well- 
 disposed. Our reformers, considering that some of 
 these observances were in themselves wrong and super- 
 stitious, and others of them made subservient to the 
 purposes of superstition, abolished them, reduced the 
 form of religion to great simplicity, and enjoined no more 
 particular rules, nor left any thing more of what was 
 external in religion, than was in a manner necessary to 
 preserve a sense of religion itself upon the minds of the 
 people. But a great part of this is neglected by the 
 generality amongst us; for instance, the service of the 
 church, not only upon common days, but also upon 
 saints' days; and several other things might be men- 
 tioned. Thus they have no customary admonition, no 
 public call to recollect the thoughts of God and rehgion 
 from one Sunday to another. 
 
 It was far otherwise under the law. These words* 
 says Moses to the children of Israel, which I command 
 thee, shall be in thine heart: and thou shall teach them 
 
 consider these as recommended to his practice and imitation." If a plain reader, at 
 first view of tl.e passage alluded to, should Inadvertejilly fall into sucli a niisiake, lie 
 wouLI find iliat mistake immediately corrected by the vory next sentence that follows, 
 where the religion of the Roman Catholics, and their superstition, are distinguished 
 from tach other in express words But the terms in question are used with the 
 strictest propriety. The design of the bishop, in this partnf his Charge, is to consider 
 religion, not under tlie notion of its being true, but as it affecuTihe senses and 
 imaginMii'>ns of the mnkitude. For so the paragraph begins: "That which men 
 have accounted religion in the sever.d countries of the world" {whether the religion l)c 
 true onalse is beside his present argument), "generally speaking, has had a great and 
 conspiciiou"! part in .ill public appm ranees." This position he illustrates hy three 
 eXfuephs. ihe Heathen, the Mahometan, and the Roman Catholic religions. The two 
 first of Uiese, having little or nothing of irue religion lielongingtothem.Wy wellenouTh 
 be oli!ir,icter led under the common name of snpei-s ition ; the last contains a mixtui-e 
 of both ; whicn tlierefore the bishop, like a gooil writer, as well as a just reasoner 
 is careful to distinguisli. In Roman Catholic countries, a mini can hardly travel a 
 mile wiihout passing a crucifix erected on the road side: he may either stop to 
 «'oi-ship the image represented on the cross, or he may simply be reminded by it of 
 Ills own reliition to Christ crucified; thus by one and the •-anie outward sion 
 " religiim may be recalled to his thoughts," or superstition may lake possession of his 
 mind. In the celebration of the eucl'iarist, the elements ot bread and wine are 
 rep>trded by a papist as tin' very bwly and blood of Christ; to a protestaiit, they 
 appearonly as symbols and memorials of that boily and blood: what in one is un act of 
 rational devotion, becomes in the other an instance of the grossest superstition, if not 
 idolatry. 
 
 * DeuU vi. e, 7. 
 
CLERGY 'OF DURHAM. 275 
 
 diligently unto thy children, and shall talk of them when 
 thou sittest in thine house, and vihen thou walkest by the 
 way, and when thou liest down, and when thou risest up * 
 And as they were commanded this, so it is obvious how 
 much the constitution of that law was adapted to effect 
 it, and keep rehgion ever in view. And without some- 
 what of this nature, piety will grow languid even among 
 the better sort of men; and the worst will go on quietly 
 in an abandoned course, with fewer interruptions from 
 within than they would have, were religious reflections 
 forced oftener upon their minds,t and consequently with 
 
 *_ Allowing that " what Moses in this passage wanted to have effected was obe- 
 dience to ihe moral law," nothing, sure, could be of greater use in sccuiiiig Lliat 
 ol)i ilience than the practice here enjoined. Our ingnirer, liowever, is of a liiffereiit 
 op iiiou, and " very much questions wiiether his Icirilsliip could ha\e falliii U|on liny 
 passage in tlie Old Testament, which relates at all to liis subject, that would have 
 iieen less favouraljle to his argument." fyho shall decide, &c. ? — The bishop goes 
 oil, " As they (the Jews) were commanded this, so it is ol>vious how much the con- 
 s. iiution of their law was adapted to effect it, and keep religion ever in view." Upon 
 wiiicli the inquirer remarks, " It was then very ill, or at least very unwisely dune, to 
 aliriinate that law, whose constitution was adapted to so excellent a purpose." Let 
 u> fir>L see what niriy be ofl'ered in defence of the bishop, and then consider wliat is 
 to lie saiil in answer to his opponent. The purpose for wliich the Mosaic consti"'iiim 
 was esiablished was this: to preserve, amidst a world universally addicted lo *uly- 
 theism and idolatry, the great doctrine of the Unity of the Divine Nature, till llis 
 seed should come to whom the promise was made. As a means to this eiirl, tlie 
 Israiiiies were not only to be kept separate from every other nation ; but, the Ijettir 
 to ensure such separation, they were to be constantly employed in a multifaiiiius 
 riiuid, whicli left them neither time nor opportunity for deviating into tlie supiTsii- 
 tiiius observances of their pagan neighbours. And this, I suppose, may suffice for 
 viiididting tlie bishop's assertion, that " the constitution of the Jewish law was 
 uilapted to keep religion ever in view." But the Jewish law was not only adupti d 
 lo liiis end ; we are nest to observe, that the end itself was actually gaiiK d. For 
 tliiiugii it be too notorious to be denied, that the Jews did not always confine iheir 
 religious homage to the God of Israel, but polluted the service, due to liim aloiir, 
 with foreign worship ; yet, even in their worst defection, it should be remrmbereti. 
 tiiey never totally rejecteil the true Jehovah ; and after their return from Ciipti\iiy, 
 they were so thoroughly cured of all remaining propensity to the idolatrous rites oT 
 heathi'iiism, as never again to violate their allegiance to the God of their tatlnix 
 It appears then, that, in consequence of the Jewish separation, the principle of ilie 
 Unity was in fact preserved inviolate among that people till the coming of Christ. 
 When the Mosaic constitution had thus attained its end, and mankind were iie.w 
 prepared for tlie reception of a better covenant, the law expired of course ; the piirtr 
 lion wall tliat had divided the Jew from the Gentile v^as taken down, and all distinc 
 tioii between tliein lost, under the common name of Christians. And this may siiffic.e 
 to show, in opposition to our inquirer, that it was iioth very well and very wisely done 
 to alirogate a law, when the purpose for which the law had been enacted was 
 accomplished. 
 
 f " According to the bishop's doctrine," then, says the hujuirer, " it should be not 
 only good policy, but wliolesoine discipline, to force men in England to come to 
 church, and ill France lo f^o lo mass." And again, " If externals have this virtue 
 to rn/orce religious reflections, it must be right U) compel those who are indi.sposed to 
 such reflections, to attend these memorials." Yes; granting that the sense of the 
 passage in the Charge is not shamel'nlly p-rveried, and that we are to understand ttie 
 bishop here to speak of crternal I'oree iiml compulsion. Whereas, by " religious 
 reflecuons/orcerf," is plainly meant no nnre than religious reflections ofienerMrotm 
 
276 CHARGE rO THE 
 
 less probability of their amendment. Indeed in most 
 ages of the church, the care of reasonable men has been, 
 as there has been for the most part occasion, to draw 
 the people off from laying too great weight upon external 
 things; upon formal acts of piety. But the state of 
 matters is quite changed now with us. These things are 
 neglected to a degree, which is, and cannot but be 
 attended with a decay of all that is good. It is highly 
 seasonable now to instruct the people in the importance 
 of external religion.* 
 
 And doubtless under this head must come into con- 
 sideration a proper regard to the structures which are 
 consecrated to the service of God. In the present turn 
 of the age, one may observe a wonderful frugality in 
 every thing which has respect to religion, and extrava- 
 gance in every thing else. But amidst the appearances 
 of opulence and improvement in all common things, 
 which are now seen in most places, it would be hard to 
 find a reason why these monuments of ancient piety 
 should not be preserved in their original beauty and 
 magnificence. But in the least opulent places they must 
 be preserved in becoming repair ; and every thing 
 relating to the divine service be, however, decent and 
 clean ; otherwise we shall vilify the face of religion 
 whilst we keep it up. All this is indeed principally the 
 duty of others. Yours is to press strongly upon them 
 what is their duty in this respect, and admonish them of 
 it often, if they are negligent. 
 
 in men s way, irougM more frequently into their thovghts, so as to produce an habitual 
 recollection tiiat they ore always in the divine presence. 
 
 * " The importance of external religion," tlie inquirer remarks, " is the grand engine 
 of the papists, which they play witli the greatest effect upon our ronimon people, who 
 are always soonest taken and ensnared h-j form and show ; and, so far as we concur 
 with them in the principle, we are doing iheii- work ; since, if externals, as such, are 
 important, the plain natural consequence' is, the more of them the better J' He hud the 
 same reflection once before : " If true religion caiuiot be preserved among men with- 
 out /ovm*, the consequence must be, that the Romish religion, having more 
 
 frequent occurrences of forms, is belter than other religions which have feuer of 
 
 these occurrencis." To this argiiinent 1 reply, Nego conceptentiam. Ttiere may 
 
 be too much of form in religion, as well as loo little : the one leads to enthusiasm 
 the other degeneiates into 5U|jerstition ; one is puritanism, tlie other popeiT; whereas 
 the rational worship of God is equ;illy reniovid from either extrknne. Did lu'e tnovirer 
 never hear of tlie possibility of having too miicli ut a good thing? Or does he sup- 
 pose, with the late historian of Greiit Krilaiii, that all religion is divided into two 
 species, the superstitiqjis and the faniilicnl ; and tliat whatever is not one of these, 
 must of necessity be the other p ^ 
 
CLERGY OF DUUHAM. 277 
 
 But then you must be sure to take care and not neglect 
 that part of the sacred fabric which belongs to you to 
 maintain in repair and decency. Such neglect would be 
 great impiety in you, and of most pernicious example to 
 others. Nor could you, with any success, or any 
 propriety, urge upon them their duty in a regard in 
 which you yourselves should be openly neglectful of 
 it. 
 
 . Bishop Fleetwood has observed,* that unless the good . 
 public spirit of building, repairing, and adorning churches 
 prevails a great deal more among us, and be more 
 encouraged, a hundred years will bring to the ground a 
 huge number of our churches. This excellent prelate 
 made this observation forty years ago : and no one, I 
 believe, will imagine, that the good spirit he has recom- 
 mended prevails more at present than it did then. 
 
 But if these appendages of the divine service are to be 
 regarded, doubtless the divine service itself is more to be 
 regarded ; and the conscientious attendance upon it 
 ought often to be inculcated upon the people, as a plain 
 precept of the gospel, as the means of grace, and what 
 has peculiar promises annexed to it. But external acts 
 of piety and devotion, and the frequent returns of them, 
 are, moreover, necessary to keep up a sense of religion, 
 which the affairs of the world will otherwise wear out of 
 men's hearts. And the frequent returns, whether of 
 public devotions, or of any thing else, to introduce 
 rehgion into men's serious thoughts, will have an influ- 
 ence upon them, in proportion as they are susceptible of 
 religion, and not given over to a reprobate mind. For 
 this reason, besides others, the service of the church 
 ought to be celebrated as often as you can have a con- 
 gregation to attend it. 
 
 But since the body of the people, especially in country 
 places, cannot be brought to attend it oftener than one day 
 in a week; and since this is in no sort enough to keep 
 up in them a due sense of rehgion ; it were greatly to 
 be wished they could be persuaded to any thing which 
 mi<^ht, in some measure, supply the want of more 
 frequent public devotions, or serve the like purposes. 
 
 * Charge to the Clergy of St Asaph, 1710. 
 
278 CHAsaE TO the 
 
 Family prayers, regularly kept up in every house, would 
 have a great and good effect. 
 
 Secret prayer, as expressly as it is commanded by our 
 Saviour, and as evidently As it is implied in thS notion of 
 piety, will yet, I fear, be grievously forgotten by the 
 generality, till they can be brought to fix for themselves 
 certain times of the day for it; since this is not done to 
 their hands, as it was in the Jewish church by custom or 
 •authority. Indeed custom, as well as the manifest 
 propriety of the thing, and examples of good men in 
 Scripture, justify us in insisting, that none omit their 
 prayers morning or evening, who have not thrown off 
 all regards to piety. But secret prayer comprehends not 
 only devotions before men begin and after they have 
 ended the business of the day, but such also as may be 
 performed while they are employed in it, or even in 
 company. And truly, if, besides our more set devotions, 
 morning and evening, all of us would fix upon certain 
 times of the day, so' that the return of the hour should 
 remind us, to say short prayers, or exercise our thoughts 
 in a way equivalent to this ; perhaps there are few persons 
 in so high and habitual a state of piety, as not to find the 
 benefit of it. If it took up no more than a minute or two, 
 or even less time than that, it would serve the end I am 
 proposing ; it would be a recollection, that we are in the 
 Divine presence, and contribute to our being in the fear 
 of the Lord all the day long. 
 
 A duty of the like kind, and serving to the same 
 purpose, is the particular acknowledgment of God when 
 we are partaking of his bounty at our meals. The 
 neglect of this is said to have been scandalous to a 
 proverb in the heathen world ;* but it is without shame 
 laid aside at the tables of the highest and the lowest rank 
 among us. 
 
 And as parents should be admonished, and it should 
 be pressed upon their consciences, to teach their children 
 their prayers and catechism, it being what they are 
 oblifred to upon all accounts; so it is proper to be 
 mentioned here, as a means by which they will bring the 
 
 • Cudworth on the Lord's Supper, p. 8. Casaub. in Athensum, 1. i. c. xi. p. 82. 
 Duport. Freel. in Theophraslum, ed. Needham, c. is. p. 335, &c. 
 
CLERGY OF DURHAM. ' 279 
 
 ■principles of Cliristiahity often to their own minds, 
 instead of laying aside all thoughts of it from week's-end 
 to week's-end. 
 
 General exhortations to piety, abstracted from the 
 particular circumstances of it, are of great use to such 
 as are already got into a religions course of life; but, 
 such as are not, though they be touched with them, yet 
 when they go away from church, they scarce know where 
 to begin, or how to set about what they are exhorted to. 
 And it is with respect to religion, as in the common 
 affairs of life, in which many things of great consequence 
 intended, are yet never done at all, because they may be 
 done at any time, and in any manner ; which would not 
 be, were some determinate time and manner voluntarily 
 fixed upon for the doing of them. Particular rules and 
 directions then concerning the times and circumstances 
 of performing acknowledged duties, bring religion nearer 
 to practice ; and such as are really proper, and cannot 
 well be mistaken, and are easily observed. — Such parti- 
 cular rules in religion, prudently recommended, would 
 have an influence upon the people. 
 
 All this indeed may be called form : as every thing 
 external in religion may be merely so. And therefore 
 whilst we endeavour, in these and other like instances, 
 to keep up the form of godliness* amongst those who are 
 our care, and oyer whom we have any influence, we must 
 endeavour also that this form be made more and more 
 subservient to promote the power of it.* Admonish them 
 to take heed that they mean what they say in their 
 prayers, that their thoughts and intentions go along with 
 their words, that they really in their hearts exert and 
 exercise before God the affections they express with their 
 mouth. Teach them, nqt that external religion is nothing, 
 for this is not true in any sense ; it being scarce possible,' 
 but that it will lay some sort of restraint upon a man's 
 morals; and it is moreover of good effect with respect to 
 the world abouf him. But teach them that regard to one 
 duty will in no sort atone for the neglect of any other. 
 Endeavour to raise in their hearts such a sense of God 
 -as shall be an habitual, ready principle of reverence, 
 
 * 2 lim. iu. h. 
 
280 CHARGE TO THE 
 
 love, gratitude, hope, trust, resignation, and obedience^ 
 Exhort them to make use of every circumstance, which 
 brings the subject of rehgion at all before them ; to turn 
 their hearts habitually to him ; to recollect seriously the 
 thoughts of his presence in whom tliey live and move and 
 have their being, and by a short act of their mind devote 
 themselves to his service. — If, for instance, persons 
 would accustom themselves to be thus admonished by 
 the very sight of a church, could it be called superstition? 
 Enforce upon them the necessity of making religion their 
 principal concern, as what is the express condition of the 
 gospel covenant, and what the very nature of the thing 
 requires. Explain to them the terms of that covenant 
 of mercy, founded in the incarnation, sacrifice, and 
 intercession of Christ, together with the promised 
 assistance of the Holy Ghost, not to supersede our own 
 endeavours, but to render them effectual. The greater 
 festivals of the church, being instituted for commemorat- 
 ing the several parts of the gospel history, of course lead 
 you to explain these its several doctrines, and show the 
 Christian practice which arises out of them. And the 
 more occasional solemnities of religion, as well as these 
 festivals, will often afford you the fairest opportunities 
 of enforcing all these things in familiar conversation. 
 Indeed all affectation of talking piously is quite nauseous: 
 and though there be nothing of this, yet men will easily 
 be disgusted at the too great frequency or length of these 
 occasional admonitions. But a word of God and religion 
 dropped sometimes in conversation, gently, and without 
 any thing severe or forbidding in the manner of it, this is 
 not unacceptable. It leaves an impression, is repeated 
 again by the hearers, and often remembered by plain 
 well-disposed persons longer than one would think. 
 Particular circumstances too, which render men more 
 apt to receive instruction, should be laid hold of to talk 
 seriously to their consciences. For instance, after a 
 man's recovery from a dangerous sicknfess, how proper 
 is it to advise him to recollect and ever bear in mind,, 
 what were his hopes or fears, his wishes and resolutions, 
 when under the apprehension of death ; in order to bring, 
 him to repentance, or confirm him in a course of piety, 
 
CLERGY OF DURHAM. 281 
 
 according as his life and character has been. So likewise 
 the terrible accidents which often happen from riot and 
 debauchery, an-d indeed almost every vice, are occasions 
 providentially thrown in your way, to discourse against 
 these vices in common conversation, as well as from the 
 pulpit, upon any such accidents happening in your parish, 
 or in a neighbouring one. Occasions and circumstances 
 of a like kind to some or other of these occur often, and 
 ought, if I may so speak, to be catched ^t, as opportunities 
 of conveying instruction, both public and private, with 
 great force and advantage. ' 
 
 Public instruction is absolutely necessary, and can in 
 no sort be dispensed with. But as it is common to all 
 who are present, many persons strangely neglect to 
 appropriate what they hear to themselves, to their own 
 heart and life. Now the only remedy for this in our 
 power is a particular personal application. And a per- 
 sonal application makes a very different impression from 
 a common, general one. It were therefore greatly to be 
 wished, that evety man should have the principles of 
 Christianity, and his own particular duty enforced upon 
 his conscience, in a manner suited to his capacity, in 
 privatq. And besides the occasional opportunities of 
 doing this, some of which have been intimated, there are 
 stated opportunities of doing it. Such, for instance, is 
 confirmation: and the usual age for confirmation is that 
 time of hfe, from which youth must become more and 
 more their own masters, when they are often leaving 
 their father's house, going out into the wide world and 
 all its numerous temptations ; against which they par- 
 ticularly want to be fortified, by having strong and lively 
 impressions of religion made upon their minds. Now 
 the 61st canon expressly requires, that every minister 
 that hath care of souls shall use his best endeavour to 
 prepare and make able as many as he can to be confirmed ; 
 which cannot be done as it ought without such personal 
 application to each candidate in particular as I am recom- 
 mending. Another opportunity for doing this is, when 
 any one of your parishioners signifies his name as in- 
 tending for the first time to be partaker of the communion. 
 The rubric requires, that all persons, whenever they intend 
 
282 CHARGE TO THE 
 
 to receive, shall signify their names beforehand to the 
 minister; which, if it be not insisted upon in all cases, 
 ought absolutely to be insisted upon for the first time. 
 Now this even lays it in your way to discourse with 
 them in private upon the nature and benefits of this 
 sacrament, and enforce upon them the importance and 
 necessity of religion. However I do not mean to put 
 this upon the same foot with catechising youth, and 
 preparing them for confirmation; these being indispen- 
 sable obligations, and expressly commanded by our 
 ■canons. This private intercourse with your parishioners 
 preparatory to their first communion, let it, if you please, 
 be considered as a voluntary service to religion on your 
 part, and a voluntary instance of docility on theirs. I 
 will only add as tq this practice, that it is regularly kept 
 up by some persons, and particularly by one, whose 
 exemplary behaviour in every part of the pastoral office 
 is enforced upon you by his station of authority and 
 influence in (this part* especially of) the diocess. 
 
 I am very sensible, my brethren, that some of these 
 things in places where they are greatly wanted are 
 impracticable, from the largeness of parishes, suppose. 
 And where there is no impediment of this sort, yet the 
 performance of them will depend upon others, as well as 
 upon you. People cannot be admonished or instructed 
 in private, unless they will permit it. And little will 
 you be able to do in forming the minds of children to a 
 sense of religion, if their parents will not assist you in 
 it; and yet much less, if they will frustrate your endea- 
 vours, by their bad example, and giving encouragement 
 to their children to be dissolute. The like is to be said 
 also of your influence in reforming the common people 
 in general, in proportion as their superiors act in like 
 manner to such parents; and whilst they, the lower 
 people I mean, must have such numerous temptations 
 to drunkenness and riot every where placed in their 
 way. And it is cruel usage we often meet with, in beinor 
 censured for not doing what we cannot do, withouc 
 what he cannot have, the concurrence of our censurers. 
 Doubtless very much reproach which now lights upon 
 
 * The arclid aroiuy o!" Northumlierland. 
 
CLERGY OF DURHAM. 283 
 
 the clergy would be found to fall elsewhere, if due 
 allowances were made for things of this kind. But then 
 we, my brethren, must take care and not make more 
 than due allowances for them. If others deal unchari- 
 tably with us, we must deal impartially with ourselves, 
 as in a matter of conscience, in determining what good 
 is in our power to do: and not let indolence keep us 
 from setting about what really is in our power ; nor any 
 heat of temper create obstacles in the prosecution of it, 
 or render insuperable such as we find, when perhaps 
 gentleness and patience woold prevent or overcome them. 
 
 Indeed all this diligence to which I have been exhort- 
 ing you and myself, for God forbid I should not consider 
 myself as included in all the general admonitions you 
 receive from me ; all this diligence in -these things does 
 indeed suppose, that we give ourselves wholly to them. 
 It supposes, not only that we have a real sense of religion 
 upon our own minds, but also, that to promote the 
 practice of it in others is habitually uppermost in our 
 thought and intention, as the business of our lives. And 
 this, my brethren, is the business of our lives, in every 
 sense, and upon every account. It is the general 
 bnsmess of all Christians as they have opportunity : it is 
 our particular business. It is so, as we have devoted 
 ourselves to it by the most solemn engagements; as, 
 according to ovir Lord's appointment, we live of t/ie 
 gospel;* and as the preservation and advancement of 
 religion, in such and such districts, are, in some respects, 
 our appropriated trust. 
 
 By being faithful in the discharge of this our trust, by 
 thus taking heed to the ministry we have received in the 
 Lord that we fulfil it,\ we shall do our part towards 
 reviving a practical sense of religion amongst the people 
 committed to our care. And this will be the securest 
 barrier against the efforts of infideHty ; a great source of 
 which plainly is, the endeavour to get rid of religious 
 restraints. But whatever be our success with regard to 
 others, we shall have the approbation of our consciences, 
 and may rest assured, that, as to ourselves at least, our 
 labour is not in vain in the Lord.X 
 
 * 1 Cor. ix. 14. + Col. iv. 17. % 1 Cor. xv. 58. 
 
CORRESPONDENCE 
 DR BUTLER AND DR CLARKE. 
 
 the first letter. 
 
 Reverend Sir, 
 I SUPPOSE you will wonder at, the present trouble from 
 one who is a perfect stranger to you, though you are not 
 so to him; but I hope the occasion will excuse my 
 boldness. I have made it, sir, my business, ever since 
 I thought myself capable of such sort of reasoning, to 
 prove to myself the being and attributes of God. And 
 being sensible that it is a matter of the last consequence, 
 I endeavoured after a demonstrative proof; not only 
 more fully to satisfy my own mind, but also in order to 
 defend the great truths of natural religion, and those of 
 the Christian revelation which follow from them, against 
 all opposers: but must own with concern, that hitherto 
 I have been unsuccessful; and though I have got very 
 probable arguments, yet I can go but a very little way 
 with demonstration in the proof of those things. When 
 first your book on those subjects (which by all, whom I 
 have discoursed with, is so justly esteemed) was recom- 
 mended to me, I was in great hopes of having all my 
 inquiries answered. But since in some places, either 
 through my not understanding your meaning, or what 
 else I know not, even that has failed me, I almost 
 despair of ever arriving to such a satisfaction as I aim at, 
 unless by the method I now use. You cannot but know, 
 sir, that of two different expressions of the same thing, 
 though equally clear to some persons, yet to others one 
 of them is sometimes very obscure, though the other be 
 perfectly intelligible. Perhaps this may be my case 
 here; and could I see those of your arguments, of which 
 I doubt, difl'erently proposed, possibly I might yield a 
 ready assent to them. This, sir, I cannot but think a 
 
CORRESPONDENCE, ETC. 285 
 
 sufficient excuse for the present trouble; it being such a 
 one as I hope may prevail for an answer, with one who 
 seems to aim at nothing more than that good work of 
 instructing others. 
 
 In your Demonstration of the Being and Attributes of 
 God, Prop. VI.* [edit. 2d. pp. 69, 70,] yea propose to 
 prove the infinity or omnipresence of the self-existent 
 Bemg. The former part of the proof seems highly 
 probable; but the latter part, which seems to aim at 
 demonstration, is not to me convincing. The latter 
 part of the paragraph is, if I mistake not, an entire 
 argument of itself, which runs thus: "To suppose a 
 finite being to be self-existent, is to say that it is a 
 contradiction for that being not to exist, the absence of 
 which may yet be conceived without a contradiction; 
 which is the greatest absurdity in the world." The sense 
 of these words ["the absence of which"] seems plainly 
 to be determined by the following sentence, to mean its 
 absence from any particular place. Which sentence is 
 to prove it to be an absurdity; ahd ts this: " For if a 
 being can, without a contradiction, be absent from one 
 place, it may, without a contradiction, be absent from 
 another place, and from all places." Now supposing 
 this to be a consequence, all that it proves is, that if a 
 being can, without a contradiction, be absent from one 
 place at one time, it may, without a contradiction, be 
 absent from another place, and so from all places, at 
 diiferent times ; (for I cannot see, that if a being can be 
 absent from one place at one time, therefore it may, 
 without a contradiction, be absent from all places at the 
 same time, i. e. may cease to exist.) Now, if it proves 
 no more than this, I cannot see that it reduces the 
 supposition to any absurdity. Suppose I could demon- 
 strate, that any particular man should live a thousand 
 years ; this man might, without a contradiction, be absent 
 from one and from all places at different times; but it 
 would not from thence follow, that he might be absent 
 from all places at the same time, i. e. that he might cease 
 to exist. No; this would be a contradiction, because I 
 am supposed to have demonstrated that he should live a 
 
 * p. 45, edit. 4; p. 41, edit. ; p. 43, edit. 7 ; p. 44, edit 8. 
 
286 CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN 
 
 thousand years. It would be exactly the same, if, 
 instead of a thousand years, I should say, for ever; and 
 the proof seems the same, whether it be applied to a 
 self-existent or a dependent being. 
 
 What else I have to offer is in relation to your proof, 
 that the self-existent being must of necessity be but one. 
 Which proof is as follows, in Prop. VII.* [edit. 2d. p. 74.] 
 " To suppose two or more different natures existing of 
 themselves, necessarily, and independent from each other, 
 implies this plain contradiction; that, each of them being 
 independent from the other, they may either of them be 
 supposed to exist alone ; so that it will be no contradic- 
 tion to imagine the other not to exist, and consequently 
 neither of them will be necessarily existing." The sup- 
 position indeed implies, that since each of these beings is 
 independent from the other, they may either of them 
 exist alone, i. e. without any relation to, or dependence 
 on, the other: but where is the third idea, to connect this 
 proposition and the following one, viz., " so that it will 
 be no contradiction to imagine the other not to exist ?" 
 Were this a consequence of the former proposition, I 
 allow it would be demonstration, by the first corollary of 
 Prop. III.+ [2d edit. p. 26.] but since these two proposi- 
 tions, p' they may either of them be supposed to exist 
 alone, J and, [" so that it will be no contradiction to 
 imagine the other not to exist,"] are very widely different ; 
 since likewise it is no immediate consequence, that 
 because either may be supposed to exist independent 
 from the other, therefore the other may be supposed not 
 to exist at all ; how is what was proposed, proved.? That 
 the propositions are different, I think is plain; and 
 whether there be an immediate connexion, every body 
 that reads your book must judge for themselves. I must 
 say, for my own part, the a'bsurdity does not appear at 
 first sight, any more than the absurdity of saying that 
 the angles below the base in an isosceles triangle are 
 unequal; which though it is absolutely false, yet I suppose 
 no one will lay down the contrary for an axiom ; because, 
 though it is true, yet there is need of a proof to make it 
 appear so. 
 
 « p. 48. edit- 4 : p. 44. Hit 6 ; p. 46. edit. 7 ; p. 47. edit. 8. 
 + P. 16, 17. edit. 4, 6, 7, and 8. 
 
DR BUTLER AND DR CLARKE. 287 
 
 Perhaps it may be answered, that I have not rightly 
 explahied the words, " to exist alone;" and that they do 
 not mean only, to exist independent from the other ; but 
 that " existing alone" means that nothing exists with it. 
 Whether this or the other was meant, I cannot determine: 
 but, which ever it was, what I have said will hold. For 
 if this last be the s^nse of those words, [" they either of 
 them may be supposed to exist alone;"] it indeed implies 
 that it will be no contradiction to suppose the other not 
 to exist: but then I ask, how come these two proposi- 
 tions to be connected ; thM, to suppose two different 
 natures existingof themselves necessarily and independent 
 from each other, implies that each of them may be 
 supposed to exist alone in this sense P Which is exactly 
 the same as I said before, only applied to different 
 sentences. So that if " existing alone" be understood as 
 I first took it, I allow it is implied in the supposition ; 
 but cannot see that the consequence is, that it will be no 
 contradiction to suppose the other not to exist. But if 
 the words, " existing alone," are meant in th« latter sense, 
 I grant, that if either of them be supposed thus to exist 
 alone, it will be no contradiction to suppose the other not 
 to exist: but then I cannot see, that to suppose two 
 different natures existing, of themselves, necessarily and 
 independent from each other, irnpUes that either of them 
 may be supposed to exist alone in this sense of the words ; 
 but, only, 'that either of them may be supposed to exist 
 without having any relation to the other, and that there 
 will be no need of the existence of the one in order to 
 the existence of the other. But though upon this account, 
 were there no other principle of its existenbe, it might 
 cease to exist; yet on the account of the necessity of its 
 own nature, which is quite distinct from the other, it is an 
 absolute absurdity to suppose it not to exist. 
 
 Thus sir, I have proposed my doubts, with the reasons 
 of them', in which if I have wrested your words to 
 another sense than you designed them, or in any respect 
 argued unfairly, I assure you it was without design. So 
 I hope you will impute it to mistake. And, if it will not 
 be too great a trouble, let me once more beg the favour 
 of a line from you, by which you will lay me under a 
 
28B CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN 
 
 particular obligation to be, what, with the rest of the 
 world, I now am, 
 
 Reverend Sir, your most obliged servant, &c. 
 
 Noo.i, 1713. 
 
 the answer to the first letter. 
 
 Sir, 
 Did men who publish controversial papers accustom 
 themselves to write with that candour and ingenuity, 
 with which you propose your difficulties, I am persuaded 
 almost all disputes might be very amicably terminated, 
 either by men's coming at last to agree in opinion, or at 
 least finding reason to suffer each other friendly to differ. 
 
 Your two objections are very ingenious, and urged 
 with great strength and acuteness. Yet I am hot 
 without hopes of being able to give you satisfaction in 
 both of them. To your first, therefore, I answer: 
 Whatever may, without a contradiction, be absent from 
 any one pla«e, at any one time, may also, without a 
 contradiction, be absent from all places at all times. 
 For, whatever is absolutely necessary at all, is absolutely 
 necessary in every part of space, and in every point of 
 duration. Whatever can at any time be conceived 
 possible to be absent from any one part of space, may 
 for the same reason [viz. the implying no contradiction 
 in the nature of things] be conceived possible to be 
 absent from every other part of space at the same time; 
 either by ceasing to be, or by supposing it never to have 
 begun to be. Your instance about demonstrating a man 
 to live a thousand years, is what, I think, led you into 
 the mistake; and is a good instance to lead you out of 
 it again. You, may suppose a man shall live a thousand 
 years, or God may reveal and promise he shall live a 
 thousand years; and upon that supposition, it shall not 
 be possible for the man to be absent from all places in 
 any part of that time. Very true : but why shall it not 
 be possible .f* only because it is contrary to the supposi- 
 tion, or to the promise of God ; but not contrary to the 
 absolute nature of things; which would be the case, if 
 the man existed necessarily, as every part of space does. 
 
DR BUTLER AND DR CLARKE. 289 
 
 In supposing you could demonstrate, a man should live 
 a thousand years, or one year; you make an impossible 
 and contradictory supposition. For though you may 
 know certainly (by revelation suppose) that he will live 
 so long.; yet this is only the certainty of a thing true in 
 fact, not in itself necessary: and demonstration is appli- 
 cable to nothing but what is necessary in itself, necessary 
 in all places and at all times equally. 
 
 To your second difficulty, I answer: What exists 
 necessarily, not only must so exist alone, as to be 
 independent of any thing else ; but, (being self-sufficient) 
 may also so exist alone, as that every thing else may 
 possibly (or without any contradiction in the nature of 
 things) be supposed not to exist at all: arid consequently 
 (since that which may possibly be supposed not to exist 
 at all, is not necessarily existent), no other thing can be 
 necessarily existent. Whatever is necessarily existing, 
 there is need of its existence in order to the supposal of 
 the existence of any other thing; so that nothing can 
 possibly be supposed to exist, without presupposing and 
 including antecedently the existence of that which is 
 necessary. For instance ; the supposal of the existence 
 of any thing whatever includes necessarily a presupposi- 
 tion of the existence of space and time; and if any thing 
 could exist without space or time, it would follow that 
 space and time were not necessarily existing. Therefore, 
 the supposing any thing possibly to exist alone, so as 
 not necessarily to include the presupposal of some other 
 thing, proves demonstrably that that other thing is not 
 necessarily existing; because, whatever has necessity of 
 existence cannot possibly, in any conception whatsoever, 
 be supposed away. There cannot possibly be any 
 notion of the existence of any thing, there cannot 
 possibly be any notion of existence at all, but what shall 
 necessarily preinclude the notion of that which has 
 necessary existence. And consequently the two propo- 
 sitions, which you judged independent, are really 
 necessarily connected. These sorts of things are indeed 
 very difficult to express, and not easy to be conceived 
 but by very attentive minds : but to such as can and will 
 attend, nothing, I think, is more demonstrably convictive. 
 
 1 
 
290 CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN 
 
 If any thing still sticks with you in this or any other 
 part of my books, I shall be very willing to be informed 
 of it; who am, Sir, Your assured friend and servant, 
 
 S. C. 
 
 Kov. 10, 1713. 
 
 P. S. Many readers, I observe, have misunderstood 
 my second general proposition ; as if the words £" some 
 one unchangeable and independent being,"] meant [one 
 only — -being;] whereas the true meaning, and all that 
 the argument there requires, is, [some one at least.] 
 That there can be but one, is the thing proved afterwards 
 in the seventh proposition. 
 
 the second letter. 
 
 Reverend Sir, 
 I have often thought that the chief occasions of men's 
 differing so much in their opinions, were, either their 
 not understanding each other; or else, that, instead of 
 ingenuously searching after truth, they have made it 
 their business to find out arguments for the proof of 
 what they have once asserted. However, it is certain 
 there may be other reasons for persons not agreeing in 
 their opinions: and where it is so, I cannot but think 
 with you, that they will find reason to suffer each other 
 to differ friendly; every man having a way of thinking, 
 in some respects, peculiarly his own. 
 
 I am sorry I must tell you, your answers to my objec- 
 tions are not satisfactory. The reasons why I think 
 them not so are as follow. 
 
 You say, " Whatever is absolutely necessary at all is 
 absolutely necessary in every part of space, and in every 
 point of duration." Were this evident, it would cer- 
 tainly prove what you bring it for; viz. that " whatever 
 may, without a contradiction, be absent from one place 
 at one time, may also be absent from all places at all 
 times." But I do not conceive, that the idea of ubiquity 
 is contained "in the idea of self-existence, or directly 
 follows from it; any otherwise than as, whatever exists 
 
DR BUTLER AND DR CLARKE. 291 
 
 must exist somewhere. You add, "Whatever can at 
 any time be conceived possible to be absent from any- 
 one part of space, may for the same reason [viz. the 
 implying no contradiction in the nature of things] be 
 conceived possible to be absent from every other part of 
 space, at the same time." Now I cannot see, that I 
 can make these two suppositions for the same reason, or 
 upon the same account. The reason why I conceive 
 this being may be absent from one place, is because it 
 doth not contradict the former proof [drawn frotn the 
 nature of things], in which I proved only that it must 
 necessarily exist. But the other supposition, viz. that I 
 can conceive it possible to be absent from every part of 
 space at one and the same time, directly contradicts the 
 proof that it must exist somewhere; and so is an express 
 contradiction. Unless it be said, that as, when we have 
 proved the three angles of a triangle equal to two right 
 ones, that relation of the equality of its angles to two 
 right ones will be wherever a triangle exists ; so, when, 
 we have proved the necessary existence of a being, this 
 being must exist every where. But there is a great 
 difference between these two things: the one being the 
 proof of a certain relation, upon supposition of such a 
 being's existence with such particular properties ; and. 
 consequently, wherever this being and these properties 
 exist, this relation must exist too: but from the proof of 
 the necessary existence of a being, it is no evident con- 
 sequence that it exists every where. My using the word 
 demonstration, instead oi proof which leaves no room for 
 doubt, was through negligence, for I never heard of strict 
 demonstration of matter of fact. 
 
 In your answer to my second difficulty, you say^ 
 " Whatsoever is necessarily existing, there is need of its 
 existence, in order to the supposal of the existence of 
 any other thing." All the consequences you draw from 
 this proposition, I see proved demonstrably; and con- 
 sequently, that the two propositions I thought indepen- 
 dent are closely connected. But how, or upon what 
 account, is there need of the existence of whatever is 
 necessarily existing, in order to the existence of any 
 other thinsr? Is it as there is need of space and duration, 
 
 T2 
 
292 CORRESPONnENCE BETWEEN 
 
 in order to the existence of any thing; or is it needful 
 only as the cause of the existence of all other things ? If 
 the former be said, as your instance seems to intimate: 
 I answer ; space and duration are very abstruse in their 
 natures, trad, I think, cannot properly be called things, 
 but are considered rather as affections which belong, and 
 in the order of our thoughts are antecedently necessary, 
 to the existence of all things. And I can no more 
 conceive how a necessarily existent being can, on the 
 same account, or in the same manner as space and 
 duration are, be needful in order to the existence of any 
 other being, than I can conceive extension attributed to 
 a thought; that idea no more belonging to a thing existing, 
 than extension belongs to thought. But if the latter be 
 said, that there is need of the existence of whatever is a 
 necessary being, in order to the existence of any other 
 thing ; only as this necessary being must be the cause of 
 the existence of all other thipgs: I think this is plainly 
 begging the question; for it supposes that there is no 
 other being exists, but what is casual, and so not necessary. 
 And on what other account, or in what other manner 
 than one of these two, there can be need of the existence 
 of a necessary being in order to the existence of any 
 thing else, I cannot conceive. ^ 
 
 Thus, sir, you see I entirely agree with you in all the 
 consequences you have drawn from your suppositions, 
 but cannot see the truth of the suppositions themselves. 
 
 I have aimed at nothing in my style, but only to be 
 intelligible; being sensiblethat.it is very difficult (as you 
 observe) to express one's self on these sorts of subjects, 
 especially for one who is altogether unaccustomed to write 
 upon them. 
 
 I have nothing at present more to add, but my sincerest 
 thanks for your trouble in answering my letter, and for 
 yoUr professed readiness to be acquainted with any other 
 difficulty that I may meet with in any of your writings. 
 I am willing to interpret this, as somewhat like a promise 
 of an answer to what I have now written, if there be any 
 thing in it which deserves one. I am, Reverend Sir, 
 Your most obliged humble servant. 
 
 Nov. 23, 1713. 
 
DR BUTLER AND DR CLARKE. 293 
 
 THE ANSWER TO THE SECOND LETTER. 
 
 Sir, 
 It seems to me, that the reason why you do not appre- 
 hend ubiquity to be necessarily connected with self- 
 existence, is because, in the order of your ideas, you first 
 conceive a being (a finite being, suppose), and then 
 conceive self-existence to be a property of that being; as 
 the angles are properties of a triangle, when a triangle 
 exists: whereas, on the contrary, necessity of existence, 
 not being a property consequent upon the supposition of 
 the things existing, but antecedently the cause or ground 
 of that existence; it is evident this necessity, being not 
 limited to any antecedent subject, as angles are to a 
 triangle; but being itself original, absolute^ and (in order 
 of nature) antecedent to all existence; cannot but be 
 every where, for the same reason that it is any where. 
 By applying this reasoning to the instance of space, you 
 will find, that by consequence it belongs truly to that 
 substance, whereof space is a property,* as duration also 
 is. What you say about a necessary being existing 
 somewhere, supposes it to be finite; and being finite, 
 supposes some cause which determined that such a certain 
 quantity of that being should exist, neither more nor less: 
 and that cause must either be a voluntary cause ; or else 
 such a necessary cause, the quantity of whose power 
 must be determined and limited by some other cause. 
 But in original absolute necessity, antecedent (in order 
 of nature) to the existence of any thing, nothing of all 
 this can have place ; but the necessity is necessarily every 
 where alike. 
 
 Concerning the second difficulty, I answer: That 
 which exists necessarily, is needful to the existence of 
 any other thing ; not considered now as a cause (for that 
 indeed is begging the question), but as a sine quo non; 
 in the sense as space is necessary to every thing, and 
 nothin.o- can possibly be conceived to exist, without 
 thereby presupposing space: which therefore I apprehend 
 to be a property or mode of the self-existent substance; 
 
 * Or, mode, of existence. 
 
294 CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN 
 
 and that, by being evidently necessary itself, it proves 
 that the substance, of which it is a property, must also 
 be necessary; necessary both in itself, and needful to 
 the existence of any thing else whatsoever. Extension 
 indeed does not belong to thought, because thought is not 
 a being ; but there is need of extension to the existence 
 of every being, to a being which has or has not thought, 
 or any other quality whatsoever. I am, Sir, 
 
 Your real friend and servant. 
 London, Nov. 28, 1713. 
 
 the third letter. 
 
 Reverend Sir, 
 I DO not very well understand your rneaning, when you 
 say that you think, " in the order of my ideas I first 
 conceive a being (finite suppose) to exist, and then 
 conceive self-existence to be a property of that being." 
 If you mean that I first suppose a finite being to exist I 
 know not why; affirming necessity of existence to be 
 only a consequent of its existence ; and that, when I have 
 supposed it finite, I very safely conclude it is not infinite ; 
 I am utterly at a loss, upon what expressions in my letter 
 this conjecture can be founded. 15 ut if you mean, that 
 I first of all prove a being to exist from eternity, and 
 then, from the reasons of things, prove that such a being 
 must be eternally necessary ; I freely own it. Neither 
 do I conceive it to be irregular or absurd; for there is a 
 great difference between the order in which things exist, 
 and the order in which I prove to myself that they exist. 
 Neither do I think my saying a necessary being exists 
 somewhere, suppose it to be finite ; it only supposes that 
 this being exists in space, without determining whether 
 here, or there, or every where. 
 
 To my second objection, you say, " That which exists 
 necessarily, is needful to the existence of any other thing, 
 as a siitie qua non; in the sense space is necessary to 
 every thing: which is proved (you say) by this con- 
 sideration, that space is a property of the self-existent 
 substance; and being both necessary in itself, and needful 
 
DU BUTLER AND DR CLARKE. 295 
 
 to the existence of every thing else; consequently the 
 substance, of which it is a property, must be so too." 
 Space, I own, is in one sense a property of the self- 
 existent substance ; but, in the same sense, it is also a 
 property of all other substances. The only difference is 
 in respect to the quantity. And since every part of 
 space, as well as the whole, is necessary; every substance 
 consequently must be self-existent, because it hath this 
 self -existent property. Which since you will not admit 
 fox true ; if it directly follows from your arguments, they 
 cannot be conclusive. 
 
 What you say under the first head proves, I think, to 
 a very great probabihty, though not to me with the 
 •evidence of demonstration: but your arguments under 
 the second I am not able to see the force of 
 
 I am so far from being pleased that I can form 
 objections to your arguments, that, besides the satisfac- 
 tion it would have given me in my own mind, 1 should 
 have thought it an honour to have entered into your 
 reasonings, and seen the force of them. I cannot desire 
 to trespass any more upon your better employed time; 
 so shall only add my hearty thanks for your trouble on 
 my account, and that I am with the greatest respect. 
 
 Reverend Sir, 
 Your most obliged humble servant. 
 Dec. 5, 1713. 
 
 the answer to the third letter. 
 
 Sir, 
 Though, when I turn my thoughts every way, I fully 
 persuade myself there is no defect in the argument itself; 
 yet in my manner of expression I am satisfied there must 
 be some want of .clearness, when there remains any 
 difficulty to a person of your abilities and sagacity. I 
 did not mean that your saying a necessary being exists 
 somewhere, does necessarily suppose it to be finite j but 
 that the manner of expression is apt to excite in the 
 mind an idea of a finite being, at the same time that you 
 are thinking of a necessary being, without accurately 
 
296 Correspondence between 
 
 attending to the nature of that necessity by which it 
 exists. Necessity absolute, and antecedent (in order of 
 nature) to the existence of any subject, has nothing to 
 limit it; but, if it operates at all (as it must needs do), 
 it must operate (if I may so speak) every where and at 
 all times alike. Determination of a particular quantity, 
 or particular time or place of existence of any thing, 
 cannot arise but from somewhat external to the thing 
 itself. For example: why there should exist just such 
 a small determinate quantity of matter, neither more nor 
 less, interspersed in the immense vacuities of space, no 
 reason can be given. Nor can there be any thing in 
 nature, which could have determined a thing so indiffe- 
 rent in itself, as is the measure of that quantity ; but only 
 the will of an intelligent and free agent. To suppose 
 matter, or any other substance, necessarily existing in a 
 finite determinate quantity; in an inch-cube, for instance; 
 or in any certain number of cube-inches, and no more;, 
 is exactly the same absurdity, as supposing it to exist 
 necessarily, and yet for a finite duration only: which 
 every one sees to be a plain contradiction. The argu- 
 ment is likewise the sam,e, in the question about the 
 original of motion. Motion cannot be necessarily 
 existing; because, it being evident that all determinations- 
 of motion are equally possible in themselves, the original 
 determination of the motion of any particular body this 
 way rather than the contrary way, could not be necessarily 
 in itself, but was either caused by the will of an intelli- 
 gent and free agent, or else was an effect produced and 
 determined without any cause at all; which is an express 
 contradiction: as I have shown in my Demonstration of 
 the Being and Attributes of God. [Page 14, edit. 4th 
 and 5th; page 12, edit. 6th and 7th.] 
 
 To the second head of argument, I answer: Space is 
 a property [oi- mode] of the self-existent substance ; but 
 not of any other substances. All other substances are 
 in space, and are penetrated by it; but the self-existent 
 substance is not in space, nor penetrated by it, but is 
 itself (if I may so speak) the substratum of space, the 
 ground of the existence of space and duration itself. 
 Which [space and duration] being evidently necessary,,. 
 
DR BUTLER AND DR CLARKE. 297 
 
 and yet themselves not substances, but properties or 
 modes, show evidently that the substance, without which 
 these properties could not subsist, is itself much more 
 (if that were possible) necessary. And as space and 
 duration are needful (i. e. sine qua non) to the existence 
 of every thing else ; so consequently is the substance', to 
 which these properties belong in that peculiar manner 
 ■which I before mentioned. I am. Sir, 
 
 Your affectionate friend and servant. 
 Dee. 10, 1713. 
 
 the fourth lettek- 
 
 Reverend Sir, 
 Whatever is the occasion of my not seeing the force o 
 your reasonings, I cannot impute it to [what you do^ 
 the want of clearness in your expression. I am too wel 
 acquainted with myself, to think my not understanding 
 an argument, a sufficient reason to conclude that it is 
 either improperly expressed, or not conclusive; unless I 
 can clearly show the defect of it. It is with the greatest 
 satisfaction I must tell you, that the more I reflect on 
 your first argument, the more I am convinced of the 
 truth of it; and it now seems to me altogether unrea- 
 sonable to suppose absolute necessity can have any 
 relation to one part of space more than to another; and 
 if so, an absolutely necessary being must exist every 
 where. 
 
 I wish I was as well satisfied in respect to the other. 
 You say, " All substances, except the self-existent one, 
 are in space, and are penetrated by it." All substances 
 doubtless, whether body or spirit, exist in space:" but 
 when I say that a spirit exists in space, were I put 
 upon telling my meaning, I know not how I could, do it 
 any other way than by saying, such a particular quantity 
 of space terminates t,he capacity of acting in finite spirits 
 at one and the same time; so that they cannot act 
 beyond that determined quantity. Not but that I think 
 there is somewhat in the manner of existence of spirits 
 in respect of space, that more directly answers to the 
 manner of the existence of body ; but what that i^, or of 
 
^8 CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN 
 
 tlie manner of their existence, I cannot possibly form an 
 idea. And it seems (if possible) much more difficult to 
 determine what relation the self-existent Being hath to 
 space. To say he exists in space, after the same 
 manner that other substances do (somewhat like which 
 I too rashly asserted in my last), perhaps would be 
 placing the Creator too much on a level with the 
 creature; or however, it is not plainly and evidently 
 true: and to say the self-existent substance is the sub- 
 stratum of space, in the common sense of the word, is 
 scarce intelligible, or at least is not evident. Now 
 though there may be a hundred relations distinct from 
 either of these; yet how we should come by ideas of 
 them, I cannot conceive. We may indeed have ideas 
 to the words, and not altogether depart from the common 
 sense of them, when we say the self-existent substance 
 is the substratum of space, or the ground of its existence: 
 but I see no reason to think it true, because space seems 
 to me to be as absolutely self-existent, as it is possible 
 any thing can be : so that, make what other supposition 
 you please, yet we cannot help supposing immense 
 space ; because t\ie)ce must be either an infinity of being, 
 or (if you will allow the expression) an infinite vacuity 
 of being. Perhaps it may be objected to this, that 
 though space is really necessary, yet the reason of its 
 being necessary is its being a property of the self-existent 
 substance; and that it being so evidently necessary, and 
 its dependence on the self-existent substance not so 
 evident, we are ready to conclude it absolutely self- 
 existent, as well as necessary; and that this is the reason 
 why the idea of space forces itself on our minds, ante- 
 cedent to, and exclusive of (as to the ground of its 
 existence) all other things. Now this, though it is really 
 an objection, yet is no direct answer to what I have 
 said: because it supposes the only thing to be proved, 
 viz. that the reason why space is necessary is its being 
 a property of a self-existent substance. And supposing 
 it not to be evident, that space is absolutely self-existent; 
 yet, while it is doubtful, we cannot argue as though the 
 Contrary were certain, and we were sure that space was 
 only a property of the self-existent substance. ' But 
 
DR BUTLER AND DR CLARKE. 299 
 
 now, if space be not absoldtely independent, I do not 
 see what we can conclude is so: for it is manifestly 
 necessary itself, as well as antecedently needful to the 
 existence of all other things, not excepting (as I think) 
 even the self-existent substance. 
 
 All your consequences, I see, follow demonstrably 
 from your supposition ; and, were that evident, I believe 
 it would serve to prove several other things as well as 
 what you bring it for. Upon which account, I should 
 be extremely pleased to see it proved by any one. For, 
 as I design the search after truth as the business of my 
 life, I shall not be ashamed to learn from any person; 
 though, at the same time, I cannot but be sensible, that 
 instruction from some men is like the gift of a prince, it 
 reflects an honour on the person on whom it lays an 
 ■obligation. I am. Reverend Sir, 
 
 Your obliged servant. 
 Dee.l6, 1713. 
 
 THE ANSWER TO THE FOURTH LETTER. 
 
 Sir, 
 My being out of town most part of the month of January, 
 and some other accidental avocations, hindered me from 
 answering your letter sooner. The sum of the difficulties 
 it contains is, I think, this: that "it is difficult to deter- 
 mine what relation the self-existent substance has to 
 s-pace :" that " to say it is the substratum of space, in 
 the common sense of the word, is scarce intelligible, or, 
 at least, is not evident:" that "space seems to be as 
 fvbsolutely self-existent, as it is possible any thing can 
 be:" and that "its being a property of the self-existent 
 substance is supposing the thing that was to be proved." 
 This is entering indeed into the very bottom of the 
 matter; and I will endeavour to give you as brief and 
 clear an answer as I can. 
 
 That the self-existent substance is the substratum of 
 space, or space a property of the self-existent substance, 
 are not perhaps very proper expressions; nor is it easy 
 to find -such. But what I mean is this: The idea of 
 
300 CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN 
 
 space (as also of time or duration) is an abstract or 
 partial idea; an idea of a certain quality or relation^ 
 which we evidently see to be necessarily existing ; and 
 yet which (not being itself a substance) at the same time 
 necessarily presupposes a substance, without which it 
 could not exist; which substance consequently must be 
 itself (much more, if possible) necessarily existing. I 
 know not how to explain this so well as by the following 
 simihtude. A blind man, when he tries to frame to- 
 himself the idea of body, his idea is nothing but that of 
 hardness. A man that had eyes, but no power of motion,, 
 or sense of feeling at all; when he tried to frame to 
 himself the idea of body, his idea would be nothing but 
 that of colour. Now as, in these cases, hardness is not 
 body, and colour is not body; but yet, to the under- 
 standing of these persons, those properties necessarily 
 infer the being of a substance, of which substance itself 
 the persons have no idea: so space to us is not itself 
 substance, but it necessarily infers the being of a sub- 
 stance, which affects none of our present senses; and, 
 being itself necessary, it follows, that the substance,, 
 which it infers, is (much more) necessary. I am, Sir, 
 Your affectionate friend and servant. 
 Jan. 29, 1713. 
 
 the fifth letter. 
 
 Reverend Sir, 
 You have very comprehensively expressed, in six or 
 seven lines, all the difficulties of my letter; which I 
 should have endeavoured to have made shorter, had I 
 not been afraid an improper expression might possibly 
 occasion a mistake of my meaning. I am very.glad the 
 debate is come into so narrow a compass; for I think 
 now it entirely turns upon this, whether our ideas of 
 space and duration are partial, so as to presuppose the 
 existence of some other thing. Your similitude of the 
 blind man is very apt, to explain your meaning (which 
 I think I fully understand), but does not seem to como 
 entirely up to the matter. For what is the reason that 
 the blind man concludes there must be somewhat 
 
DR BUTLER AND DR CLARKE. 301 
 
 external, to give him that idea of hardness ? It is because 
 he supposes it impossible for him to be thus affected, 
 unless there were some cause of it; which cause, should 
 it be removed, the effect would immediately cease too; 
 and he would no more have the idea of hardness, but by 
 remembrance. Now to apply this to the instance of 
 space and duration : Since a man, from his having these 
 ideas, very justly concludes there must be somewhat 
 external, which is the cause of them; consequently, 
 should this cause (whatever it is) be taken away, his 
 ideas would be so too : therefore, if what is supposed to 
 be the cause be removed, and yet the idea remains, that 
 siijiposed cause cannot be the real one. Now, granting 
 the self-existent substance to be the substratum of these 
 ideas, could we make the supposition of its ceasing to be, 
 yet space and duration would still remain unaltered: 
 which seems to show, that the self-existent substance is 
 not the substratum of space and duration. Nor would 
 it be an answer to the difficulty, to say that every pro- 
 perty of the self-eBiistent substance is as necessary as the 
 substance itself; since that will only hold, while the 
 substance itself exists ; for there is implied, iii the idea 
 of a property, an impossibility of subsisting without its 
 substratum. I grant, the supposition is absurd: but how 
 otherwise can we know whether any thing be a property 
 of such a substance, but by examining whether it should 
 cease to be, if its supposed substance should do so ? 
 Notwithstanding what I have now said, I cannot say 
 that I believe your argument not conclusive ; for I must 
 own my ignorance, that I am really at a loss about the 
 nature of space and duration. But did it plainly appear 
 that they were properties of a substance, we should have 
 an easy way with the atheists: for it would at once 
 prove demonstrably an eternal, necessary, self-existent 
 Being; that there is but one such; and that he is need-, 
 ful in order to the existence of all other things. Which 
 makes me think, that though it maybe true, yet it is not 
 obvious to every capacity: otherwise it would have been 
 generally used, as a fundamental argument to prove the 
 being of God. 
 
 I must add one thing more; that your argument for 
 
302 CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN 
 
 the omnipresence of God seemed always to me very 
 probable. But being very desirous to have it appear 
 demonstrably conclusive, I was sometimes forced to say 
 what was not altogether my opinion : not that I did this 
 for the sake of disputing, (for, besides the particular 
 disagreeableness of this to my own temper, I should 
 surely have chosen another person to have trifled with;) 
 but I did it to set off the objection to advantage, that it 
 might be more fully answered. I heartily wish you as 
 fair treatment from your opponents in print, as I have had 
 from you; though, I must own, I cannot see, in those 
 that I have read, that unprejudiced search after truth, 
 which I would have hoped for. 
 
 I am. Reverend Sir, 
 
 Your most humble servant. 
 Feb. 3, 1713. 
 
 THE ANSWER TO THE FIFTH LETFER. 
 
 Sir, 
 In a multitude of business, I mislaid your last letter; 
 and could not answer it, till it came again to my hands 
 by chance. We seem to have pushed the matter in 
 question between us as far as it will go ; and, upon the 
 whole, I cannot but take notice, I have very seldom met 
 with persons so reasonable and unprejudiced as yourself, 
 in such debates as these. 
 
 I think all I need say, in answer to the reasoning in 
 your letter, is, that your granting the absurdity of the 
 supposition you were endeavouring to make, is conse- 
 quently granting the necessary truth of my argument. 
 If* space and duration necessarily remain, even after they 
 are supposed to be taken away; and be not (as it is plaia 
 they are not) themselves substances; that thet substance,, 
 
 * Ut pnrtiiini tetnporis ordo est immntabilis, sicetiam ordopartiutn spatii. Movprii- 
 tur hge de locis suis, et movebuiitur (ut ita dicam) de seipsis. Newton. Princij,. 
 Muthemat. s hoi. ad definit. 9. 
 
 f Drus noil est setprnitas vel infinitas, scd iBtemiis et infinitus; non est duratio vvl 
 cpatium, sed durat et adest. Diirat seinptr, et adest tibique ; et ezisteiido semper et 
 ubique, duntiunem et spatium, sternitatem et iiifiiiitatein, cniistituit. Cum unaqii^equR' 
 tpatii particula sit semper; et u^iumqiioilque durationis iiidivisibile momentum uliique; 
 certe rpnnn uninium Fabricator ac Domiiuis iioii erit nunquam nusquam. Omnipiai- 
 spiis est, non per virtutem solam, sed etiam per sul)stantiam : nam virtus sine substantia 
 Eubsistere non potest. In Ipso uontinentur et nioveiiiu'' "iiiversa &c. Neuittn. I'riticiu. 
 JiultjenMt. Schol. gerural. ««4 ^"nm. 
 
DR BUTLER AND DR CLARKE. 
 
 303 
 
 on whose existence they depend, will necessarily remain 
 likewise, even after it is supposed to be taken away: 
 which shows that supposition to be impossible and 
 conti'adictory. 
 
 As to your observation at the end of your letter; that 
 the argument I have insisted on, if it were obvious to 
 every capacity, should have more frequeiitly been used 
 as a fundamental argument for a proof of the being of 
 God: the true cause why it has been seldom urged, is, 
 I think, this ; that the universal prevalency of Cartes's 
 absurd notions (teaching that* matter is necessarily 
 infinite and necessarily eternal, and ascribing all things 
 to mere mechanic laws of motion, exclusive of final 
 causes, and of all will and intelligence and divine Provi- 
 dence from the government of the world) hath incredibly 
 blinded the eyes of common reason, and prevented men 
 from discerning him in whom they live, and move, and have 
 their being. The like has happened in some other 
 instances. How universally have men for many ages 
 believed, that eternity is no duration at all, and infinity 
 no ampHtude ! Something of the like kind has happened 
 in the matter of transubstantiation, and, I think, in the 
 scholastic notion of the Trinity, &c. 
 
 I am, Sir, 
 Your affectionate -friend and servant. 
 
 uipril 8, 1713. 
 
 * Futo implicare contradictioncin, ut mundus [meaning the material \rorld] ut 
 fnitus. Cartel. Epitt. 69. Partit primie. 
 
 THE END. 
 
f