m mm mn^ my im\i ■.,jm D" JT' tU;t; m CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY GIFT OF Dept. of Theatre Arts ^ORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY -3 ■'924_092 370 851 B hr The original of tiiis bool< is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://archive.org/details/cu31924092370851 s.. Df:PAHTMENT O- SPEECH APv'D MAMA CC UVERSITY d f <^i-^ VISCOUNT TURENNE, MARSHAL GENERAL OF THE ARMY, ETC. "All the people of Israel greatly bewailed him. They wept many days, and said, "Why is that great man dead, who saved the people of Israel?" — 1 Mac. u. 9. I can not, messieurs, at the outset, give you a higher idea of the mournful subject with which I am about to occupy your attentioD * Pronounced at Paris, in the Church of St. Eustache, January 10th, 1616. FUNERAL ORATION FOR TURENNE. 71 than by citing tlie noble and expressive terms used by the Scriptures to praise the life and deplore the death of the sage and valiant Mac- cabeus — the man who spread the glory of his nation to the ends of the earth ; who covered his camp with a buckler, and forced that of the enemy with the sword ; who subdued the kings leagued against him, and rejoiced Jacob with those virtues and exploits, the memory of which shall endure forever. This man, who defended the cities of Judah, who subdued the pride of the children of Am- mon, and returned loaded with the spoils of Samaria, after having burned upon their own altars the gods of foreign nations ; this maD, whom God had thrown around Israel like a wall of iron, against which all the forces of Asia had so frequently dashed themselves to pieces; who defeated numerous armies, disconcerted the proudest and most accomplished generals of the King of Syria, came annually like the least of the Israelites, to repair, with his own triumphant hands, the ruins of the sanctuary, and desired no other recompense for the services he had rendered his country, than the honor of hav- ing served it. This valiant man, while driving before him, with invincible courage, the enemies whom he had reduced to a shameful flight, at last received a mortal wound, and remained buried, as it were, in his own triumph. At the first report of this disaster, all the cites of Judah were moved, and floods of tears ran from the eyes of all the inhabitants. For a time they were confounded; dumb, and motionless. At length breaking the long and mournful silence, in a voice interrupted by sobs, they gave utterance to the grief, the pity and fear which oppressed their hearts, and exclaimed : " Why is that great man dead, who saved the people of Israel !" At this cry, Je- rusalem redoubled its weeping ; the arches of the temple trembled ; Jordan was troubled, and all its banks re-echoed the sound of those mournful words : " Why is that great man dead, who saved the people of Israel!" Christians, whom a mournful ceremony has assembled in this place, do you not call to mind what you saw and felt ^ve months ago?"" Do you not recognize yourselves in the affliction which I have described, and in your minds substitute, for the hero spoken of in Scripture, him of whom I propose to speak ? The virtues and fate of the one resemble those of the other, and to the latter nothing is wanting to-day but a eulogy worthy of him. Oh, if the Spirit di- vine, Spirit of power and truth, should enrich my discourse with those natural and vivid images which represent virtue, and, at the same time, persuade to its practice, with what lofty conceptions shall * This oration was delivered five months after the death of Turenne. 72 ESPEITFLECHIER. I fill your minds, and wbat noble impressions communicate to your hearts, by the recital of so many edifying and glorious actions ! Wbat subject was ever better fitted to receive all the ornaments of a grave and solid eloquence than the life and death of the high and mighty Prince Henry de la Tour d'Auvergne, Yisconnt Turenne, Marshal-general of the Camps and Armies of the King, and Col- onel general of the Light Cavalry ? Where shine, with such luster, the glorious results of military virtue, the conduct of armies, sieges of castles, storming of cities, ^lassages of rivers, bold attacks, honor- able retreats, well-ordered encampments, vigorous combats, battles gained, enemies vanquished, scattered by force and address, or worn out and consumed by a sage and lofty prudence ? Where can be found such numerous and striking examples, than in the actions of a man wise, modest, liberal, disinterested, devoted to the service of his king and country, great in adversity, by his fortitude, in pros- perity by his moderation, in difficulties by his prudence, in danger by his valor, in religion by his piety ? What can inspire sentiments more just and affecting than a death so sudden and surprising ; a death which suspended the course of our victories, and dissipated the fondest hopes of peace ? Powerful enemies of France, ye live, and the spirit of Christian charity for- bids me to cherish a wish for your death. Only may ye recognize the justice of our arms, accept the peace which, in spite of your losses, ye have so often refused, and in the abundance of 3^ our tears, extinguish the fires of a war Avhich ye have unfortunately kindled. Ood forbid that I should extend my wishes further. Inscrutable are the judgments of God ! You live ; and it is mine, in this pulpit, to mourn a sage and virtuous General, whose intentions were pure, and whose virtue seemed to merit a longer life, a more extended career. But let us suppress our complaints ; it is time to commence his eulogy, and to show how that powerful man triumphed over the enemies of the state by his bravery, over the passions of his soul by his virtue, over the errors and vanities of the world by his piety. If I interrupt the order of my discourse, pardon a little confusion in a subject which has caused us so much grief. I may sometimes con- found the General of the army with the sage and the Christian. I shall praise now his victories, and now the virtues which o-ained them. If I can not rehearse all his actions, I shall discover them in their principles ; I shall adore the God of armies, invoke the God of peace, bless the God of mercy, and through the whole win your at- tention, not by the force of eloquence, but by the reality and o-reat- ness of the virtues about which I am engaged to speak. FUNERAL ORATION FOR TURENNE. 73 Do not suppose, messieurs, that I shall follow the custom of ora- tors, and praise M. de Tarenne as ordinary men are praised. If his life had less of glory, I should dwell upon the grandeur and nobility of his House ; and if his portrait were less beautiful, would discover those of his ancestors. But the glory of his actions effaces that of his birth, and the smallest praise that can be given him is, that he sprang from the ancient and illustrious house of Tour d'Auvergne, which has mingled its blood with that of kings and emperors, given rulers to Aquitaine, princes to all the courts of Europe, and queens even to that of France. Before his fourteenth year he began to carry arms. Sieges and battles were the exercises of his youth, and his first amusements were victories. Under the discipline of his maternal uncle, the Prince of Orange, he learned the art of war, in the quality of a sim- ple soldier, and neither pride nor indolence restrained him from one of his employments which required labor and obedience. He was seen in this last rank of military service, neither refusing any labor, nor dreading any peril ; doing from a sense of honor what others did from necessit}^, and distinguished from them only by a greater attachment to fatigue, and a nobler application to all his duties. Then commenced a life whose career was yet to become so glori- ous, like those rivers which deepen and expand the further they ex- tend from their source, and which carry wealth and prosperity to all the regions through which they flow. From that time, he lived only for the glory and welfare of his country. He performed all the serv- ices which could be expected from a mind firm and active, lodged in a robust and healthy frame. In his youth he had all the prudence of mature age. His days were full, to use the language of Scripture ; and as he did not lose his early years in luxury and pleasure, he was not compelled to spend his last in weakness and inactivity. What enemy of France has not felt the effects of his valor, and what part of our frontier has not served as the theater of his glory ? He crosses the Alps, and in the famous actions of Casal, of Turin, and of the rout of Quiers, he signalizes himself by his courage and prudence. Italy regards him as one of the principal instruments of those great and prodigious successes which posterity will scarcely credit. He passes from the Alps to the Pyrennees, to aid in the con- quest of two important places, which puts one of our finest provinces under protection from all the efforts of Spain. He goes to col- lect, beyond the Ehine, the remnants of a defeated army ; he takes cities, and assists in gaining battles. Thus by degrees, and by his own merit, he rises to supreme command, and shows, during the 74 ESPRIT FLECHIER. whole course of his life, what can be done for the defense of a king- dom by a General who is rendered worthy to command by obeying, and wlio joins to courage and genius application and experience. Then it was that his mind and heart displayed all their energies. Whether called to arrange matters, or bring them to an issue ; to pursue victory with ardor, or wait for it with patience ; whether to counteract the designs of the enemy by bravery, or dissipate the fears and jealousies of his allies by wisdom ; whether to control himself amid the successes, or sustain himself amid the reverses, of war, his soul was always equal to the occasion. He had only to change virtues when fortune changed her face ; elated without pride, depressed without meanness, almost equally admirable when, with judgment and boldness, he saved the remains of his troops beaten at Mariandel, as when he himself beat the Imperials and the Bavarians ; or when, with triumphant troops, he forced all Grermany to ask peace from France.* ^ ^ * * -sf -x- Let us follow this prince in his last campaigns, during which so many difficult enterprises, so many glorious successes are to be re- garded as proofs of his courage, and rewards of his piety. To com- mence his marches with prayer, to repress impiety and blasphemy, to protect sacred persons and property against the insolence and avarice of the soldiers, to invoke in every danger the God of armies, is the common care and duty of all generals. But he goes far be- yond this. Even while commanding the army, he regards himself as a simple soldier of Jesus Christ. He sanctifies wars by the purity of his intentions, by the desire of a happy peace, and by the laws of Christian discipline. He looks upon his soldiers as his brethren, and believes himself under obligation to exercise Christian charity in a cruel profession, wherein general humanity itself is lost. Animated by these lofty motives, he surpasses himself, and proves that cour- age becomes firmer when sustained by the principles of rehgion, that there is a pious magnanimity which wins success in spite of dangers and obstacles, and that a warrior is invincible when he com- bats with faith, and stretches forth pure hands to the God of armies, who protects him. As from God he derives all his glory, so to him he returns it all, and cherishes no other confidence than what is founded on the Divine approbation. Here let us set before you one of those critical occasions,! when he attacks with a small number of troops the en- tire forces of Germany ! He marches three days, crosses three rivers, meets the enemy, and gives them battle. With numbers on * The Peace of Monster. f Battle of Entzeim. FUNERAL ORATION FOR TURENNE. 75 one side, and valor on the other, fortune is long doubtful. At last courage fires the multitude; the enemy is confused, and begins to yield. '' Victory 1" shouts a voice. At once the General checks all emotion which gives ardor to battle, and in a severe tone says : " Silence I Our fate is not in our own hands, and we ourselves will be vanquished, if God does not succor us I" With these words, he raises his hands to heaven, " whence cometh help," and continuing to give his orders, he waits with submission between hope and fear, for the execution of Heaven's will. How difficult it is to be at once victorious and humble ! Mil- itary success leaves in the mind I know not what exquisite pleasure, which fills and absorbs it. In such circumstances one attributes to himself a superiority of force and capacity. He crowns himself with his own hands ; he decrees to himself a secret triumph ; he re- gards as his own the laurels which he gathers with infinite toil, and frequently moistens with his blood ; and even when he renders to God solemn thanks, and hangs in his temples the torn and blood- stained trophies which he has taken from the enemy, is not vanity liable to stifle a portion of his gratitude, and mingle with the vows which he pays to God, applauses which he thinks due to himself; at least does he not retain some grains of the incense which he burns upon his altars ? It was on such occasions that Marshal Turenne, renouncing all pretensions, returned all the glory to Him to whom it legitimately belongs. If he marches, he acknowledges that it is God who pro- tects and guides him ; if he defends fortresses, he knows that he defends them in vain if God does not guard them ; if he forms an intrenchment, he feels that it is God who forms a rampart around him to defend him from every attack ; if he fights, he knows whence to draw all his force ; and if he triumphs, he thinks that he sees an invisible hand crowning him from heaven. Eeferring thus all the favors he receives to their origin, he thence derives new blessings. No longer does he fear the enemies by whom he is surrounded; without being surprised at their numbers or strength, he exclaims with the prophet : " Some trust in their horses and chariots, but we will trust in the Almighty." In this steadfast and just confidence he redoubles his ardor, forms great designs, executes great things, 'and begins a campaign, which appears as if it must prove fatal to the empire. He passes the Ehine, and eludes the vigilance of an accomplished and prudent general. He observes the movements of the enemy. He raises the courage of the allies; controls the suspicions and 76 ESPRIT FLECHIER. vacillating faitli of neighboring powers. He takes away from the one the will, from the other the means of injuring him ; and profit- ing by all those important conjunctures which prepare the way for great and glorious events, he leaves to fortune nothing which human skill and counsel can take from him. Already has a panic seized the enemy. Already has that eagle taken its flight to the mountains, whose bold approach alarmed our provinces. Those brazen mouths, invented by the bottomless pit for the destruction of men, thunder on all sides^ to favor and precipitate the retreat ; and France in sus- pense awaits the success of an enterprise which, according to all the rules of war, must be infalhble. Alas ! we knew all that we might hope, but we knew not all that we might fear. Divine Providence concealed from us a calamity greater than the loss of a battle. It was to cost a life which each of us would have been willing to redeem with his own : and all that we could gain was of less value than what we were to lose. Grod ! terrible but just in Thy counsels toward the children of men, Thou disposest of victors and victories ! To fulfill Thy pleasure, and cause us to fear Thy judgments. Thy power casts down those whom it has lifted up. Thou sacrificest to Thy Sovereign Majesty the noblest victims, and strikest^ at Thy pleasure, those illustrious heads which Thou hast so often crowned ! Do not suppose, messieurs, that I am going to open here a tragic scene ; to represent that great man stretched upon his own trophies ; to uncover that body, blood-stained and ghastly, over which still lin- gers the smoke of the thunder which struck it ; to cause his blood, like that of Abel's, to cry from the ground, or expose to your eyes the mournful images of your country and religion in tears ! In slight losses we may thus surprise the pity of our auditors, and by studied efforts draw from their eyes a few forced and useless tears. But we describe without art, a death which we mourn without de- ceit. Every one finds in himself the source of his grief, and re- opens his own wound ; and it is not necessary to excite the imagi- nation in order to affect the heart. Here I am almost forced to interrupt my discourse. I am troubled, messieurs! Turenne dies! All is confusion — fortune vacillates — victory leaves us — peace takes its flight — ^the good in- tentions of the allies relax — the courage of the troops fails with grief, anon burns with vengeance — the whole army remain motion- less. The wounded think of the loss which they have suffered, and not of the wounds which they have received. Dying fathers see their sons weeping over their dead General. The army, in mourn- FUNERAL ORATION FOR TURENNE. 77 ing, is engaged in rendering him funeral honors, and fame, which delights to spread through the world extraordinary events, goes to make known through Europe the glorious history of the Prince's life, and the mournful regrets occasioned by his death.* What sighs, what lamentations and praises, then re-echo through the cities and the country. One, looking upon his growing crops, blesses the memory of him to whom he owes the hope of his harvest. Another, who enjoys in repose the heritage which he received from his fathers, prays that eternal peace may be his who saved him from the horrors and cruelties of war. Here they offer the adorable sacrifice for him who sacrificed his life for the public good. There others prepare for him a funeral service, where they expected to pre- pare a triumph. Each selects for praise that point in his glorious life which appears the most illustrious. All unite in his eulogy. With mingled sobs and tears, they admire the past, regret the pres- ent, and tremble for the future. Thus the whole empire mourns the death of its defender. The loss of a single man is felt to be a public calamity. Wherefore, my God, if I may presume to pour out my heart in Thy presence, and speak to Thee, who am but dust and ashes, where- fore did we lose him in our most pressing necessity, in the midst of his greatest achievements, at the highest point of his valor, and in the maturity of his wisdom ? Was it that, after so many actions worthy of immortality, he had nothing further of a mortal nature to perform? Had the time arrived when he was to enjoy the re- ward of so many virtues, and receive from Thee the crown of righteousness which Thou reservest for such as have finished a glorious career? Perhaps we placed too much confidence in him, for Thou forbiddest us in the sacred Scriptures to trust in an arm of flesh, or put confidence in the children of men. Perhaps it was a punishment of our pride, ambition, and injustice. As the gross vapors ascend from the depths of the valleys, and form themselves into thunder which falls upon the mountains, so rises from the hearts of the people those iniquities, the punishment of which falls upon the heads of such as govern and defend them. I presume not, O * Turenne died July 27, 1675. He was surveying, from an eminence, the disposi- tion of the hostile army, when he was struck with a cannon-ball, which also cut off the arm of an officer who was near him. The son of that officer ran to his father's aid, and shed over him a flood of tears. " It is not for me, my son, that you ouglit to weep," said, the wounded officer, " but for that great man whom France has lost." He was honored with a magnificent funeral service, and buried in the royal tomb at St. Denis. Mascaron, Bishop of Tulle, pronounced his funeral oration. That by Flechier was dehvered five months afterward, on the occasion of a grand religious ceremony. 78 ESPRIT FLECHIER. Lord, to sound the depths of Thy j udgments, nor to discover the secret and inscrutable causes from which Thy justice or Thy mercy acts. It is my duty and desire only to adore ! But Thou art just, and Thou hast afflicted us. And in an age so corrupt as ours, we need not seek elsewhere the causes of our calamities, than in the disorder of our manners. Let us then, messieurs, derive from our sorrows motives for penitence, and seek only in the piety of that great man, true and substantial consolation. Citizens, strangers, enemies, nations, kings and emperors, mourn and revere him. Yet what can all this con- tribute to his real happiness ? His king even, and such a king ! honors him with his regrets and tears — a noble and precious mark of affection and esteem for a subject, but useless to a Christian. He shall live, I acknowledge, in the minds and memories of men, but the Scripture teaches us that the thoughts of man, and man him- self, are but vanity. A magnificent tomb may inclose his sad re- mains ; but he shall rise again from that superb monument, not to be praised for his heroic exploits, but to be judged according to his work, whether good or bad. His ashes shall mingle with those of the numerous kings who governed the kingdom which he so gen- erously defended ; but, after all, what remains under those precious marbles, either to him or to them, of human applause, the pomp of courts, or the splendor of fortune, but an eternal silence, a frightful solitude, and a terrible expectation of the judgment of God? Let the world, then, honor as it will the glory of man, God only is the recompense of faithful Christians. death, too sudden ! nevertheless, through the mercy of God, long anticipated, of how many edifying words, and holy examples hast thou deprived us ? We might have seen him, sublime specta- cle ! a Christian, dying humbly in the midst of triumphs and victo- ries. With what profound sincerity would he have mourned his past errors, abasing himself before the majesty of God, and implor- ing the succor of His arm, not against visible enemies, but against the enemies of his salvation ! His living faith and fervent charity, doubtless, would have deeply affected our hearts; and he might have remained to us a model of confidence without presumption, of fear wuthout feebleness, of penitence without artifice, of constancy without affectation, and of a death, precious in the sight both of God and of man. Are not these conjectures just? They were involved in his character. They were his cherished designs. He had resolved to live in a manner so holy that it is presumed he would have died in FUNERAL ORATION FOR TURENNE. 79 the same way. Eeadj to cast all his crowns at the feet of Jesus Christ, like the conquerors in the Apocalypse, ready to gather to- gether all his honors, and dispossess himself of them, by a voluntary renunciation, he no longer belonged to the world, though Providence retained him in it. In the tumult of armies, he solaced himself with the sweet and secret aspirations of solitude. "With one hand he smote the Amalekites, and with the other, stretched out to heaven, he drew down the blessing of God. This Joshua, in battle, already performed the functions of Moses upon the Mount, and under the arms of a warrior bore the heart and will of a penitent. God ! who piercest the profoundest depths of our conscience, and seest the most secret intentions of our hearts, even before they are formed, receive into the bosom of Thy glory that soul, ever oc- cupied with thoughts of Thine eternity ! Honor those desires which Thon Thyself didst inspire. Time failed him, but not the courage to fulfill them. If Thou requirest works with desires, behold the charities which he made or destined for the comfort and salvation of his brethren ; behold the souls which, with Thine aid, he brought back from error ; behold the blood of Thy people which he so fre- quently spared ; behold his own blood which he so generously shed on our behalf; and yet more than all, behold the blood shed for him by Jesus Christ. Ministers of God, complete the holy sacrifice ! Christians re- double your vows and prayers, that God, as a recompense of his toils, may admit his spirit to the home of everlasting repose, and give Mm an infinite peace in heaven, who three times procured for us a peace on earth, evanescent it is true, yet ever dehghtful, ever de- sirable ! DISCOURSE FORTY.NINTH. CHARLES DE LA HUE. La Rue was a native of Paris, where he was born in the year 1G43, and where he also died, aged 82. He was early distinguished among the Jesuits as a Professor of Belles-lettres and Rhetoric, and also for his poetical powers. A Latin poem of his was translated into the French by the distmguished Corneille. As a preacher, he was celebrated in the court and the capital. The editors of the '' Bibliotheque Portative" speak of him in terms of the highest praise. Gisbert, in his " Christian Elo- quence," describes La Rue, probably with somewhat of extravagance, as " a model of sublime, tender, and pathetic eloquence ; m whom is united the hvehest, the most intelhgent, the richest, and the boldest imagina- tion, a most exalted genius, and an astonishing facility of conception and expression." La Rue's works are exceedingly rare. They are contamed in three volumes, 12mo. His most celebrated sermons are the " Dying Sinner" and the " Sinner after Death." THE DYING SINNER. PEEACHED BEFORE THE KING. " When Jesus came nigh to the gate of the city, behold, there Tvas a, dead man car- ried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow." — Luke, vii. 12. Sire — To be young and powerful, to be important and necessary, are vain obstacles to death. This dead man of our Gospel was in the flower of his age. He was dear and precious to a mother who had no other support. He was of sufficient rank to draw all the city to his splendid funeral procession. Yet he dies ; and the sight of this death must render the idea of it more terrible to those attached to life by all these glittering bonds. But what can induce those to love it who have no such attractions ? The only means of THE DYING- SINNER. Ql rendering death less terrible, is to make it a custom and a duty to think upon it. Melancholy duty to think upon death ; and, above all, when we are young ! But because we are young, are we on that account to deem ourselves the less mortal ? You are young and mortal ; you are a sinner and mortal. And can a mortal, who feels himself a sinner, harden himself against the thought of death, whether he be young or old? especially as it does not depend upon him to pre- vent death in his youth ; but rather to see that he die not in his sin. What blindness, then, and what obduracy, to turn all our thoughts to our preservation from death, which will come in spite of us, and must be either hapj)y or miserable ; instead of rather striving to render that death happy by immediately departing from sin! I do not then mean to-day simply to discourse on death, but on death in sin ; by describing to you the image of false conversion in a dying sinner, in contrast with the resurrection of the dead man in our Gospel. You see two things concur to effect the resurrection of the dead man : the tender pity of the Saviour, and the prompt obedience of death. On the contrary, a dying sinner, under the hope of compas- sion from his God, and under the presumption of his own obedience, dares to defer his conversion till his last moment. Then will God wait to regard him with pity ? No. Will even the dying sinner be ready to render Him obedience ? No. Two terrible truths which it is too late to preach to the dying — what can they make of them ? We must preach them to the hving, full of confidence in their health, in their strength, in their youth. They will discover the end of them. And with this end in view, dear hearers, what will be the disposi- tion of God toward the sinner ? You will see it in the first part. What will be the disposition of the sinner himself toward God ? You will see it in the second. First Part. — Whether or not God may be disposed to bestow the grace of repentance upon the dying sinner, is a point too deli- cate to decide ; for, in fact, God is the Master of His grace ; He can dispose of it as He pleases ; He sometimes gives it to the most un- worthy. Besides, we do not know what passes between God and the dying man ; we do not know how far His mercy extends ; nor the compassion which He exercises toward the frailty of the human heart. What we at once condemn, perhaps God excuses. This is all that we can say in favor of the dying sinner. But, on the other hand, 6 82 CHARLES DE LA RUE. I see the Church, the expositor of Jesus Christ, deploring this sort of penitence ; regarding it as an insult offered to God ; doubting its efficacy, and anxiously turning away her children from it. All the holy Fathers, expressing themselves by the voice of St. Augustin, declare that in receiving the sinner to this sort of penitence, they can not give him the assurance of his salvation. To relieve the sinner from this fear, and to give him that assurance which the Church and the Fathers feel themselves incapable of giving, some superior authority is requisite : we must have nothing less than the authority of God. Let us then see what God has said, and what He has done in this matter. We have only these two means of knowing the truth. What seems most to the point is that marvelous inclination to pardon which appears throughout the sacred books ; and particularly the promise which God makes by the prophet Ezekiel : " As for the wickedness of the wicked, he shall not fall thereby in the day that he turneth from his wickedness." Nothing is apparently more favorable to the pretensions of the obstinate sinner. I say appar- ently, sirs, for let us duly examine the sense of these words. God promises to the sinner the forgiveness of his sins whenever he turns from his wickedness ; but, does He promise to the sinner the grace of conversion at any time when he may think of turning from his evil ways ? These are two very different things. You shall be pardoned when you are converted ; this is what God has promised. You shall have grace sufficiently strong to convert yourself when- ever you wish it ; this is what God has not promised, and least of all to the sinner who abuses divine mercy even till his dying hour. For, although mercy still accompanies him till that period ; although it does not abandon him while he is living upon earth ; although he may yet have at least the ability to I3ray, which is the last resource and the last link of connection between the sinner and his God ; yet this feeble link, which with time, and during life, might have become strong by the habitude of the sinner, and have led him by degrees to the end of his salvation, becomes useless on the bed of death, by the terror of surprise, and by the flight of time. It then requires an energy more powerful and prompt to effect his conversion than even during the former course of his life. Then so far from God having promised to give the dying sinner this pow- erful grace. He has positively threatened not to give it him. See the first chapter of Proverbs : " Because I have called, and ye refused ;" I have invited, and you have not come. '' I have stretched out My hand, and no man regarded;" you have turned THE DYINGS SINNER. 33 away your eyes. " I also will laugh at your calamity, I will mock when your fear cometh ;" I, in My turn, will laugh at your death, I will return contempt for contempt, and mockery for mockery. " Then shall they call upon Me, but I will not answer ;" You shall cry then, you shall call Me to your aid, but I will not hear. And, in the New Testament : " I go my way," after having dwelt so long with so little fruit among you; " and ye shall seek Me," when I shall be far from your sight; "and ye shall die in your sins;" in spite of your inquiries, ye shall die in your sins. Here then, sinners, collect all the force of your reasoning. If it is true that God bestows the grace of conversion at death, often enough to support you in this hope ; why, in all the sacred books, has Grod taken away this hope from you ? Why has He never said to you that He might be disposed to give it you ? Why has He said, on the contrary, " I will laugh ;" " I will mock;" '' I will not hear ;" "ye shall die in your sins ?" I hear nothing here of mercy or grace. Then, from what He has said, judge of His disposition toward the obstinate sinner. I go yet farther : judge of it from what He has done. If it is true that this grace has ever been promised, it is probable that while there have been sinners, and dying sinners, God, to support His promise, would have given us some public example of a hardened sinner crowned with grace on the bed of death. Produce me, then, one solitary instance. St. Bernard finds but one ; that of the thief upon the cross. I confess that this is a very great sinner ; but is he a hardened sinner ? This moment is the last of his life ; but, says Eusebius, it is the first of his calling. You blame the tardiness of his conversion. I, says St. Ambrose, admire the promptitude of it. Had this thief ever seen the Son of God preaching repentance, prov- ing His divinity, multiplying the loaves, and raising the dead ? The eyes of all Judea were filled with the wonders of the Saviour ; yet all Judea being hardened, had rejected His grace and fastened the Saviour to the cross. This thief, says St. Augustin, on discovering the first beam of His grace, recognizes Him as hLs King, and adores Him as his God, even upon the cross, in the midst of outrages and contempt. And behold, my dear hearers, the ground which you take, the model which you choose to authorize your presumption I You who, knowing the divinity of the Saviour, have for so many years resisted the convictions of His grace, which urge you to re- pent ; do you not; on the contrary, find the condemnation of your own obstinate malice in the docility of this thief, and in his prompt 84 CHARLES BE LA RUB. obedience ? Where tlien will you find examples wbicli flatter you, if this example, which is so public, is a decree against you ? You point to sinners yet more criminal than yourselves, whose edifying deaths have made them the envy of the best of men ; sin- ners who, after spending a libertine life, have died, say you, true Christians, and true saints. What, says St. Gregory of Nazianzen, does it cost so little to be a saint ? Only a day, only a moment is necessary according to us ; it is only to will it. Know that these people, whatever tears they may have shed, have not died true Christians. A true Christian does not defer his penitence till death. A true Christian does not wait for the day of his death to show that he is a true Christian. Every day, and every moment of his life, he is preparing for death. And, where is the man, if he is not wholly in despair, who on his dying bed, in the possession of his senses, and in the midst of his friends, does not at least make some effort to support the appearance of a Christian. It is rare to find railleries and blasphemies carried there : he has not then the hardi- hood to do it. One begins to preach ; another sets all the churches to pray for his salvation, or at least for his health ; another will only die in the arms of the gTeatest servants of Grod. Some cover their dying bodies with the sackcloth of repentance. All confess, and communicate with the aspirations of piety on their lips. K nothing more were necessary to die the death of the righteous, all sinners on their dying beds would be saints. All those who say to God, Lord, Lord, would enter into His kingdom ; which is contrary to the word of God. All those who have mocked at God, would not in their turn be mocked by God ; which is also opposed to His word. All those who seek after God, after having fled from Him, would find Him at every moment and every hour, and would not die in their sin ; which is likewise against His word. If, then, what God has said is true, the greater part of such kinds of repentance must be false, in spite of all the appearances which they have of truth — appearances which God permits for ends which are unknown to us; appearances which even the devil supports to draw other sinners into the snare, and to persuade them more powerfully that it is easy to die in a state of grace, after having lived in sin. Well then, my dear hearers, you have not any certain example to sustain your pre- sumption. But I— I have a hundred to confound it: an Antiochus, an Esau ; a crowd of frightful instances in Scripture and in history. This being established, I draw from it three conclusions of great importance, if they may terminate in the salvation of those who hear me. THE DYING SINNER. 85 1. The first is, that no man living can promise himself the grace of repentance at death, without an extreme temerity. The second, that the great and the rich, above all, are those who ought to flatter them- selves the least. The third, that in all conditions those who have re- ceived from God the favor of a long life, have yet less reason to expect this favor at death. Lose nothing, sirs, of these three truths which are so weighty and so pressing. You are all concerned in them. I do not say that the dying sinner has nothing left to afford en- couragement. Our Lord has expressly granted grace to the tbief, to show us the extent of His power, and to support our hope. But He has granted this grace to the thief alone. It does not appear that He has bestowed it upon any other, which shows that the fear of danger ought to check our presumption and that what He has done once only in moments so touching as those of death, is but a pure miracle of His goodness. To defer repentance, and to defer it even till death, is then to hazard salvation on the hope of a miracle. But, is this a conduct pardonable even in one of a common understanding, to make so rare a miracle the foundation of the most important and the most diffi- cult of His affairs, which is that of His salvation ? Would you make it the foundation of your health and life ? For, only consult the Scripture, and it will appear that God has raised more from the dead than He has converted when dying. Would you, on this ac- count, dare to risk your life and to expose yourself to death under the idea of a miraculous resurrection ? And how then dare you to risk your salvation on the supposition of a miraculous conversion ? "God can," say you, *' convert me at death, as easily as during life !" Is it then upon what God can do, that you rest your hope ? And does God indeed do all that He can ? He can on account of the first sin damn you as justly as He has damned the rebel angels ; yet He does it not. He does not, then, all that He can : and since you do not fear all the injury which you may offer to His justice — how can you promise yourself all the good which His bounty can bestow upon you Is it not an effort of goodness and mercy sufficiently great that He resolves to pardon you seven times, and seventy times seven? that He calls you to repentance every day of your life? that He shows you the rapidity of time? that He cautions 3'ou against the danger of surprise ? Does all this serve only to harden you in sin ? to confirm you in the sad design of pushing His pa- tience as far as it will go ; and not rather to humble you before Him until the moment when you shall see your inevitable ruin approach- ing, and His arm uplifted against you to strike the last blow ? — At 86 CHARLESDELARTJE. death, you say, wlien He shall urge us by His grace — at death, we ^yill think upon it — at death, we have other affairs now — at death, that will be the proper time to think upon Grod ; now is the time to enjoy life. In this manner life passes away. But death is before your eyes, and what can you expect? what but that God will refuse to you at death, what you have refused during life — that He will make yoa feel that life was the time of gi'ace, and not the time of pleasure ? It is, then, an extreme temerity for any man living, to clierish the least hope of obtaining the grace of repentance in his last days — a temerity yet more criminal in the rich and the great. This is a second reflection. 2. Is it not enough for these to have had as their share the enjoy- ments of the earth? to have seen pleasure and joy flow on all sides answerably to their desires ? to have united to the indulgences which spring from fortune, all those which crime and passion can give ? If, after a long course of years, passed away with impunity in this tranquillity, they could, by a single sigh, by the repentance of a mo- ment, open to themselves the gates of heaven, and pass from the felicities of time to those of eternit}^, where would be the justice and providence of God ? Who, among the prosperous and great of the world, would not abandon himself to his passions, on condition of spending the last hour of his life in sorrow, and buying an eter- nity of pleasures with a few forced tears ? It is justice and provi- dence in God, that the tears shed at death should be useless tears, in order that men in general, and the great in particular, might learn to weep over their guilt, and to seek their salvation before death. For this cause the wise man cries to all those who have power and authority, that they must expect nothing else but a judgment prompt and terrible. A judgment prompt by its surprises, and terrible by its rigor ; prompt without admitting any leisure to contemplate it ; and terrible without the hope of mitigation. And, Christian hearers, in the only example which we have of Divine clemency toward a dying sinner — in that solitary instance of the goodness of God in such a situation, upon whom has it fallen ? Upon a miserable wretch, unknown by name, known only by his crimes, and by the honor which he enjoyed of being crucified by the side of Jesus Christ. All the examples, on the contrary, of the insen- sibility of God to the repentance of the dying, are taken from the most exalted characters, the most illustrious sinners. It is thus he has made it conspicuous. That Esau, who implored with tears to be received as a penitent, and who was not received, w£is the father and the head of an entire nation. That Antiochus, whose THE DYING SINNER. 37 vain repentance has so often sounded in your ears, was the mas- ter of Asia, and the terror of all the East. Was it not of the greatest importance to the glory of the Lord to accept the sabmis- sion of the greatest king who then existed ; to see him magnificently repair the ravages which he had made in Jerusalem, establish the law of the true God throughout all his empire, and embrace it him- self? What progress would not such a change seem to promise to religion? But to all this God appears to shut His eyes. He finds it a greater glory and a more important interest to undeceive the great respecting this false opinion : to show them that as He distin- guishes them from others in the distribution of His favors, so if He honor them with forgiveness, they must from this time abase them- selves to implore His pardon. He reproves the great, however pen- itent they appear, and lavishes the grace of repentance, so to speak, upon the head of a wretched brigand : because he sees more malig- nity, ingratitude, and presumption in the sins of the great than in the sins of the poor ; a more voluntary inclination for all forbidden pleasures in the midst of all lawful enjoyments; a freedom from that want that hurries into vice, that necessity which presses on to it — and in the stead a continual abundance of all sorts of good, which aggravates their guilt — theirs, therefore, is the mahgnity of sin in all its extent. If there is, then, any favor to be hoped for by the sinner at death, it is less to be expected by the great than by the rest of the world. 3. And yet less still is mercy to be expected by those who have lived a long time in the world. This is my last reflection. I dare assert, sirs, that one of the most singular favors which God can con- fer upon men, not only with respect to their desires, but with respect to their salvation, is to give them a long life^ which conducts them beyond the dangers of youth, and which affords them leisure to lament their disorders, and to correct their errors. For, to whatever excess we may be abandoned in the blindness of youth, how can it be otherwise but that in a course of years we must be awakened by some disgrace, alarmed by some sorrowful accident, disgusted at last with the world from the usage of the world itself, and convinced of the necessity of communion with God ? All these gifts of God are included in this gift of old age ; in that age which we have always feared, and which we have always hoped. To abuse this gift by attachment to the world, to pleasure, and to sin, is then to irritate God in the most sensible manner, and to shut the treasury of His goodness against us forever. Every day God is prolonging your life, but you shorten not the chain of your sins. Your lengthened 88 CHARLES DE LA RUE. years are so many useless benedictions. Eegard them, says St. Greg- ory, as so many maledictions, as so many signs and presages of your reprobation. Why has the salvation of Solomon been held in doubt during so many ages ? Is it not because of the abuse of his last years ? His heart, upright till then, was corrupted in his old age : and his cor- rupted old age effaced all his past virtues. God no longer took pleasure in his wisdom, nor in his zeal for the glory of His name. If He showed him mercy at last. He has thought fit to leave us igno- rant of it, to prevent the hardened sinner from availing himself of this example, and to teach us the hopelessness of old age. which is voluptuous and fall of sin. AV'hat; then, can they hope for, Av^ho, differing from Solomon in the employment of their youth, also imitate the excesses and shame of his last days ? For more than forty years this king had been the example of the world, and the object of Divine approbation: yet all this has not prevented his salvation from being left in doubt. And, you sinners, who can scarcely remember that you have ever been righteous, who surpass your former irregularities every da}^, who are never weary of life but on account of the difficulty of finding new pleasures, upon what can you repose your confidence at death ? To what can you impute your perseverance in evil ? Have you wanted leisure to reflect upon your conduct, or light to see its errors, or examples to instruct you at the peril and expense of others ? A thousand revolutions which have happened before ^'^our eyes^ since you have been in the world, ought to have convinced you that none can escape from the arm of God. You have escaped from it during life, and you think yet to escape from it at death. No, your obdu- racy has no excuse : it will have no pardon ! What injustice does God do to you? No pardon? But why? Because there is no end to your sins I You have been filling up the measure of them all your days, and now, ready to quit life, you groan at its rapidity ! You would fain be immortal, that you might render your libertinism immortal ! And can you expect a happy immortality to be opened to you at death, you who would have placed your happiness in the immortality of your sin ? No, it is to you that these words of the prophet Isaiah are properly addressed : " I have long time holden My peace, I have been still and refrained Myself," I have waited for you patiently, I am wearied. To you belongs what follows, " now will I cry like a travailing woman, I will destroy and devour at once." I will at length speak : but at the same time I will overwhelm you, I will destroy you. There THE DYINa SINNER. 39 shall be no interval between your course of life and your entire destruction. " But if at death," you say, " I seek on my part sin- cerely to obtain mercy, will God refuse it to me ?" No : but what I wish to show you is, that at death you will neyer be disposed to seek mercy in a proper way. You have seen the disposition of God toward the dying sinner, now behold the disposition of the dying sinner toward God. Second PaPcT. — ^Let us approach the bed of this sinner, who is so bold that he encourages the hope of life even at the very gate of death, and yet so timid respecting his health, that he dare not so much as think upon God, lest he should impair it by some gloomy thought. But the hour arrives in which some faithful friend, wearied with complaisance and flattery, comes to him to say as the prophet to the ancient King of Judah — " Set thine house in order." Think on thyself; it is high time for it. Generally this is not without some circumlocution, nor without address. how much caution is there to make a mortal understand that be must die 1 But now it is over ! There is no more hope ! A minister must be sent for. The sick man is pressed, and conjured ; at length he is convinced of the fact. Then, seeking for some remains of firmness at the bottom of his heart, merely to support appearances, he abandons himself within to the confusion of his thoughts. Ah ! what darkness of mind ! what trouble of heart ! Let us enter into both ; into his mind and into his heart : and let us see what are their disposition toward God. There are two sorts of light in the mind which tend to promote one's conversion — reason and faith. Eeason, by awakening in him some natural motives, such as hatred and horror for his guilt : faith, by pressing him from supernatural motives. But where is reason in the obstinate sinner ? What has it done for him during the whole course of his life? What power has it had over him ? Passion has always borne him away against the convic- tions of reason. Considerations of health and of modesty in youth ; considerations of honor and interest in a more advanced age ; con- siderations of health in old age — all were suppressed by the single attraction of pleasure. Behold from fifteen to fifty years, what is the force of reason upon the spirit of a libertine ! At death, say you, rea- son will exert its strength ; it will come forth from the tomb, when man shall be ready to enter into it : its light will awaken him, when life is almost extinguished. Think, think of the embarrassments which then beset reason. First, the burden of the disease ; a soul plunged by the violence 90 CHARLES DE LA RUE. of pain into sorrow, into an invincible disquietude, collectiDg all its thoughts only to contemplate its misery. Nothing can be thought of but its malady ; restlessness trembling, burning heats, perspira- tions, faintings, and perpetually increasing disquietness. Where is then the reason of the man ? Would you allow him in this state to decide on your smallest affairs ? Would you find in him sense enough to judge of them with propriety? How then can he have enough to decide with propriety on the affairs of his soul ? Besides the burden of the disease, there is another burden, that of the remedies. He is recommended to rest, sleep, and absence from whatever can disquiet him. Can he think seriously on his sins, without a cruel inquietude ? Dispirited, disgusted with every- thing, interrupted continually by the painful operations of the sur- geons — not having sense enough to be persuaded that the love of life ought to overcome his disgust — can he have sufficient strength of mind to persuade himself that the love of his salvation ought to predominate over the love of his sin I Beside the burden of his malady, and that of the remedies, there is another burden, that of his affairs. A family in confusion, the heirs embroiled, accounts to settle, debts to pay ; offices and employ- ments in danger ; relations and friends in tears. All the world is fixing its eyes upon him ; whatever arrests his attention seems to sjDcak to him on business. And how can he think only on those affairs about which he has never thought before ? Behold that man of importance who has never had time during so many years to study his own heart, and to scrutinize his conscience. Why ? sometimes it was a load of trouble, sometimes a weight of infirmities, and sometimes a press of business, which rendered him incapable of application. In each of these embarrassments, taken separately, he never found himself sufficiently free, nor his reason sufficiently in exercise, to think upon God. Imagine this to be your case. How then can any alteration take place, my dear brother ? How will your mind be prepared when all these embarrassments to- gether shall overwhelm you at death ? When all the parts of your frame shall say to you, by the exhaustion of your strength — think of us. When your domestics shall say to you, by their feebly-acknowl- edged and ill-requited services — thinh of us. When your affairs shall say to you, by the disorder into which you have thrown them thinh of us. When your creditors shall say to you, at the sight of their goods confounded with yours — think of us. When those persons who are dear to you shall say, by their sighs, alas ! for the last time— think of us. Torn on every side, distracted by so many THE DYING- SINNER. 91 different cries — your reason^ at its last gasp, shall cry from the bottom of your conscience — thinh of thyself miserable man I think of thyself! Leave every thing besides, and think only of thyself I My dear brother, my dear friend, will your feeble reason be able to make itself heard? Eaith^ will perhaps come to the help of reason, to make you quit all other cares, and apply yourself entirely to the care of your soul. Let us then see what is the situation of faith in the soul of the sinner. It is there : for where is it not ? And were any one to say to me now, "It is not in me," I would say, you deceive yourself; it is in you, only surrounded with a thousand errors ; obscured by a thousand doubts ; concealed under the mask of impiety ; without ac- tion, without strength, useless and languishing. In this condition, sometimes avoiding faith, and sometimes opposing it, we become in- sensible to it. We are accustomed to regard the cross as an indiffer- ent object, and the Gospel as a fable. We are no longer touched by any thing. And do you persuade yourself that at the mere mention of death, at the first sight of danger, you shall feel faith revive in your soul ? that this single thought — I must appear before God — will restore you to the respect which you have stifled for the cross, for the sacra- ments, and for the truths of religion ? I admit it : but grant me what I am going to say. K then your faith recover some strength, it will be but very feeble. It will never return with its former vigor, all of which you will then need. It will not destroy the habits of aversion to the things of the other life, of disgust and coldness toward God, habits rooted in you, and become, as it were your nature. An act of faith will be required of you, my dear brother ; an act of faith, which will testify- to God and all who are present, that you die in the sentiments of the Church. *' Yes, I believe," says the dying man. You believe? That word is soon uttered, but is it deeply graven on your heart ? Does it efface in one moment those ideas produced by so many libertine conversations, so many speculative studies, so many affected doubts, such disguised atheism, such imaginary power of reasoning ? Oh I you who have reasoned so much upon the mysteries of religion, upon predestination, providence, immortality, divinity — you who railed so admirably at the credulity of the simple — you who knew so well the strength of your genius and the subtility of your discernment — you now saj, " I believe T^ You now reduce yourself to the rank of * By faith, as employed in this place, it is evident that the preacher means nothing more than the voluntary homage which nature generally pays to Revelation in the hour of afiliction, or at the approach of death. — Tramlaior. 92 CHARLESDELARUE. the simple and ignorant! You noiv renounce your worldly wisdom ! Your reasons now then are of no avail ! You have now no more scruples in these matters ! It is now no longer a dishonor to you to say, with all the Church, I believe ! These two words are indeed very powerful to make such a wonderful revolution in your mind in a moment ! But if you do believe with an undisguised faith, this is only the disposition of the understanding. What is there of the heart ? for it is in the heart that conversion must be consummated. That heart ought to be free, sincere, and firm, which is truly converted : this is absolutely necessary. But the will of a dying sinner, far from being free, is forced ; far from being firm, is weak, and always ready to change ; far from being sincere, is double and disguised, and coun- terfeited. What appearance is there of conversion in the heart thus disposed ? There is no conversion without liberty. But is the divorce which is made at such a time firom sin, free ? Is it not really forced ? Is it not the effect of fear and necessity ? You forsake your sins ? You are deceived, says St. Ambrose. Your sins forsake you ! You say that you forsake, at least, the occasions and the objects of them. You are wron^*, they are the occasions and the objects which forsake you ! With what grief do 3^ou see them escaping ! What would you not do still to recall them ! And you boast that you have forsaken them ! You say you offer your life to God in expiation for your sins. Im- aginary sacrifice ! Vain and foolish presumption ! It is God who takes your life away from you. You have never dreamed but of life, while there was the least hoj^e of saving it. You have struggled to preserve it even to the last spark. And now you pretend to ofier it, and to sacrifice it to God, when it is no longer your own ! But suppose the offering to be free, suppose the change to be un- constrained : what is its duration ? Till death ? Ah, would to God that it were ! For, without noticing the usual relapses of the greater part of those who escape the danger, how much is to be feared from inconstancy and lightness of heart, even in the moment of death ? To how many unforeseen assaults and new temptations is the man then exposed ? You have never known how to combat them during life, how then can you repulse them at death ? How necessary was it for you in full health to receive supjDlies of gi'ace when you visited the Church, that sacred place, where you applied to receive them ? What was then wanted to recall you to sin ? Often nothing else but a recollection, an idea, a sudden return of affection for some detested objects. When in full health, nothing more was requisite to bring THE DTINa SINNER. 93 you -under the yoke of your first tyrant. What will tlien be neces- sary in tlie diminution of your strengtli, and in the increase of his fury against a soul that has always been his slave, and that must soon be his prey ? Let then one single sin, a sin of habit, a sin of the heart, present itself to the sinner's mind, to his feeble imagina- tion — ^let the heart, yet more feeble, indulge this phantom with a parley but for a moment, and express but one single sentiment of regret — ah! he abandons himself— he abandons himself, to return to himself no more I It is done I It is the last movement of that heart, the last breath of life, the decisive sigh of a wretched eternity I Zealous ministers, sympathizing friends, pray, weep, bear to his deaf ears the name of the Saviour I exhibit that Saviour upon the cross I redouble your aspirations and your cries I You see not the bottom of that mind nor of that heart I God sees it ! God condemns it ! He is dead — he is damned ! " But is it necessary for his damnation, that, while he breathes his last, the phantom of his sin should be brought to his recollection, and be retraced in his heart ?" Had it ever quitted it ? Had he ever sincerely detested it ? Far from it. What is it to be truly con- verted ? It is to love what you have hated ; it is to hate what you have loved; it is to love God above all created good ; it is to hate sin more than all other evils. A change so dif&cult, and yet so necessary and important, is not effected without diligence, and above all, without courage. But in the moment of exigency, to what feeble- ness has habit reduced the sinner ? The enormity of his sins, the facility with which he has sinned, his insensibility to sin, have generated a multitude of difficulties. Slow to fly it, to avoid it, to quit it, from the tender years of youth, and in every future stage of life — he said an hundred times to those who pressed him to for- sake it — ISTo; I can not, I can not now ; do not speak to me about it, I can not. And now^ when the soul hangs trembling on the lips, how can he have sufficient courage and firmness resolutely to say — I can, yes, I can ! Can you, my dear brother, hear then what the minister says to you, while performing his office for the last time ? — ^You believe. This is not enough, my dear brother. You must love God. This is the essential point. Without love to God there is no salvation. — "Well," answers the dying man, " I must love God." — "• What must I say ?"— " But how ?"— " What must I do ?"— " Aid me !" Aid you ! O sinner, object of pity, aid you to love God ! Did you need any aid to make you love the world, its fashions, its vani- ties, its company, its excess — ^into which your depraved heart hur- 9-i CHARLES DE LA RUE. ried itself without any difficulty ? You were created to love God ; for this is the end of man. You were created to love God, but you have never loved Him in the whole course of your life, and yet you expect to love Him at the moment when you are about to die, and even in that deplorable moment you want aid to love Him ! Poor substitute for a duty necessarily personal ! Useless sub- stitute ! The love of God on the lips of a minister, only at the mo- ment when it ouo-ht to be in the midst of your heart ! If this love was there, if it was in your heart, how Avould it make you feel the evil of sin ! how w^ould it make you feel itself! Can a heart love with- out feeling it ? By what outgushings will not the love of God make itself known in the hearts of penitent saints ? To what lengths did not the love of God go in the heart of Saint Paul ? He loved God so as to call all the powers of earth, heaven, and hell to be witnesses of his love : so as to defy all creatures to separate him from his love ! '' Who shall separate us from the love of Christ ?" This man says that he is a penitent, Sirs, that is to say that there is nothing that can dis- pute the first place in his heart with God. That is to say that he no longer loves any thing that is opposed to God, nor more than God, nor like God. There is no conversion unless we have all these preferences for God. And how can we have them, and feel nothing? — and not be able, without being taught, to say to God, " my God, I love Thee T Ah I Thou wilt then be the only being, thou God of inexhaustible goodness — Thou wilt be the only being that can be loved, without feeling that we love Thee, and without being able to express it ! "We may then die, like Christians, in the hope of Thy glory, without ever having exercised the essential act of a Christian during life, and knowing how to exercise it after death ! Think, sirs, on the grief of a zealous and sincere minister at the sight of this stupidity in a dying man ! Perplexed about what he must do, not daring to deprive him of hope, and seeing no founda- tion on which to give him encouragement ! Fearing lest he should flatter him by too much tenderness, and still more lest he should drive him to despair by too much boldness ! Mistrusting equally his pity and his zeal — Ah I if in this embarrassment he could release you from the obligation of loving God — if he could make up for your insensibility by the ardor of his words, and the tenderness of his heart — might not this be acceptable with God ? No, this will not do, my dear brother I We mMst personally be- lieve and personally love. O moments lost forever, in which, dur- ing the whole course of your life, you might have loved God, mio-ht have learned to love Him, might have accustomed yourself to love THE DYING SINNER. 95 nimi Precious moments I in wliicli Divine grace solicited your heart — in whicli all the obstinacy of your malice it Avas necessary to resist I Then, then, God spake I The mind and the heart had but to follow I Now God speaks no more 1 His mind and His heart are shut against your misery I Your mind and your heart are shut against His mercy I What do you expect but the rigors of Ilis justice ? My hearers, you still possess these precious moments I God addresses you while I address you I Expect not that these moments will never pass away I Make use of them in the exercise of a prompt repent- ance I So be it — in the name of the Father^ of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit I DISCOURSE FIFTIETH. FRANCOIS DE SALIGNAO DE LA MOTHE- FENI^LON. ■ The celebrated F^x£;lon was iDorn in 1651, at Perigorcl. He was educated at Cohoes and Paris; took orders at the age of twenty-four; and sul)S('<|uently, at diiferent periods, acted as minister in the parish of St. Sulpice, Abbe, or Superior of an institution of " Xew Cathohcs," mijssionary to convert the Protestants, and tutor to the Dukes of Bur- gundy, Anjou, and Berri. His success in this last position led to his elevation to the Archbishopric of Cambray; where, after a life of purity, prayer, and pious eifort, sometimes saddened by persecuti«ju for right- eousness' sake, principally by Bossuet, for his doctrines of Quietism, he died in 1715, uttering as his last Avords, "Thy will be done." Fentl'lon, notwithstanding his adherence to the Catholic faith, was a man of deep piety, and remarkable zeal and smcerity of purpose. He was called "the good Archbishop of Cambray," and, as marking the contrast between him and Bossuet, Bishop of ^leaux, it Avas a common remark that ^''Viin proiwe la reUr/io/i^ Pa/ffre Ja fait aimers — The one l^roves religion ; the other causes it to be loved. He used to say, "I spend much time m my closet, in order to be prepared for the pulpit, and to be sure that my heart is filled from the DiAine Fountain, before I am to pour out the streams upon the people." As a preacher, he had not the reputation of an orato)\ and seems to have studiously avoided the ornamental for tlie solid beauties founded on nature and good sense. Cardinal Maury characterizes his as an " Eloquence soft and flowing, which, far from exciting violent emotions, gently insinuates itself into the soul, and aAvakens the most tender affec- tions." D^Vlembert says of liis Avorks, "Their most touchino* charm is the sensation of peace, and repose, Avith Avhich he inspires the reader." The literary works of Fenelon are avcU knoAAm, such as his admirable " Dialogues on Eloquence," and his " Tel6maque." There are but four of his sermons extant : one on " Foreign Missions," the others on " Prayer " "Piety," and the "Consecration of the Elector of Cologne." That on Prayer, especially, while it lacks the lofty utterances of some of Fenclon'a THE SAINT'S CONYERSE WITH GOD. 97 cotemporaries, is an admii-able production. It has been pronounced A\dth great propriety, " a chef-cPoeuvre for simplicity, argument, piety, and composition." Few men have been better qualified to speak on this subject than the good Fenelon ; of whom it was said by one Avho en- joyed his friendship, "while he watched over his flock with a daily care, he prayed in the deep retirement of internal solitude." The sermon, in the origiual, is without a text, as are all the four above-mentioned, ex- cept that on " Missions." We append one that is appropriate, and prob- ably, from a siugle allusion, that on which the author discom-sed. THE SAINT'S CONYEESE WITH GOD. " Pray without ceasing." — 1 Thes. v. 17. Of all the duties enjoined by Christianity, none is more essen- tial, and yet more neglected, than prayer. Most peoj)le consider this exercise a wearisome ceremony, which they are justified in abridging as much as possible. Even those whose profession or fears lead them to pray, do it with such languor and wanderings of mind, that their prayers, far from drawing down blessings, only in- crease their condemnation. I Avish to demonstrate, in this discourse, first, the general necessity of prayer ; secondly, its peculiar duty ; thirdly, the manner in which we ought to pray. First God alone can instruct us in our duty. The teachings of men, however wise and well disposed they may be, are still ineffect- ual, if God do not shed on the soul that light which opens the mind to truth. The imperfections of our fellow-creatures cast a shade over the truths that we learn from them. Such is our weakness that we do not receive, with sufficient docility, the instructions of those who are as imperfect as ourselves. A thousand suspicions, jealousies, fears, and prejudices prevent us from profiting, as we might, by what we hear from men ; and though they announce the most serious truths, yet what they do, weakens the effect of what they say. In a word, it is God alone who can perfectly teach us. St. Bernard said, in writing to a pious friend — If you are seek- ing less to satisfy a vain curiosity than to get true wisdom, you will sooner find it in deserts than in books. The silence of the rocks and the pathless forests will teach you better than the eloquence of the most gifted men. ''All," says St. Augustin, ^'that we possess of truth and wisdom, is a borrowed good, flowing from that fountain, for which we ought to thirst in the fearful desert of this world, that, 7 98 f£n£lon. being refreshed and invigorated by these dews from heaven, we may not faint upon the road that conducts us to a better country. Every attempt to satisfy the cravings of our hearts at other sources, only increases the void. You will be always poor, if you do not possess the only true riches." All light that does not proceed from God, is false ; it only dazzles us ; it sheds no illumination upon the dif&- cult paths in which we must walk, along the precipices that are about us. Our experience and our reflections can not, on all occasions, give us just and certain rules of conduct. The advice of our wisest and most sincere friends is not always sufficient ; many things escape their observation, and many that do not are too painful to be spoken. They suppress much from delicacy, or sometimes from a fear of transgressing the bounds that our friendship and confidence in them wull allow. The animadversions of our enemies, however severe or vigilant they may be, fail to enlighten us with regard to ourselves. Their malignity furnishes our self-love with a pretext for the indulg- ence of the greatest faults. The blindness of our self-love is so great that we find reasons for being satisfied with ourselves, while all the world condemn us. What must we learn from all this dark- ness ? That it is God alone w^ho can dissipate it ; that it is He alone whom we can never doubt ; that He alone is true, and knoweth all things; that if we go to Him in sincerity. He will teach us what men dare not tell us, what books can not — all that is essential for us to know. Be assured that the greatest obstacle to true wisdom is the self- confidence inspired by that which is false. The first step toward this precious knowledge, is, earnestly to desire it, iofeel the want of it, and to be convinced that they who seek it must address themselves to the Father of lights, who freely gives to him who asks in faith. But if it be true that God alone can enlighten us, it is not the less true that He will do this, simply in answer to our praj^ers. Are we not happy, indeed, in being able to obtain so great a blessing by only asking for it ? No part of the effort that we make to acquire the transient enjoyments of this life, is necessary to obtain these heavenly blessings. What will we not do, what are we not willing to suffer, to possess dangerous and contemptible things, and often without any success ? It is not thus with heavenly things. God is always ready to gTant them to those who make the request in sin- cerity and truth. The Christian life is a long and continual tend- ency of our hearts toward that eternal goodness which we desire on earth. All our happiness consists in thirsting for it. JSTow this THE SAINT'S CONYERSE WITH GOD. 99 thirst is prayer. Ever desire to approacli your Creator, and you will never cease to pray. Do not think that it is necessary to pronounce many words. To pray is to say, Let Thy will be done. It is to form a good purpose ; to raise your heart to God ; to lament your weakness ; to sigh at the recollection of your frequent disobedience. This prayer demands neither method, nor science, nor reasoning; it is not essential to quit one's employment ; it is a simple movement of the heart toward its Creator, and a desire that whatever you are doing you may do it to His glory. The best of all prayers is to act with a pure intention, and with a continual reference to the will of God. It depends much upon ourselves whether our prayers be efficacious. It is not by a miracle, but by a movement of the heart that we are benefited ; by a submissive spirit. Let us believe, let us trust, let us hope, and God never will reject our prayer. Yet how many Christians do we see strangers to the privilege, aliens from God, who seldom think of Him, who never open their hearts to Him ; who seek elsewhere the counsels of a false wisdom, and vain and dangerous consolations ; who can not resolve to seek, in humble, fervent prayer to God, a remedy for their griefs and a true knowledge of their defects, the necessary power to conquer their vicious and perverse inclinations, and the consolations and assistance they require, that they may not be discouraged in a virtuous life. But some will say. " I have no interest in prayer ; it wearies me ; my imagination is excited by sensible and more agreeable objects, and wanders in spite of me." If neither your reverence for the great truths of religion, nor the majesty of the ever-present Deity, nor the interest of your eternal salvation, have power to arrest your mind, and engage it in prayer, at least mourn with me for your infidelity ; be ashamed of your weak- ness, and wish that your thoughts were more under your control ; and desire to become less frivolous and inconstant. Make an efibrt to subject your mind to this discipline. You will gradually acquire habit and facility. "What is now tedious will become delightful ; and you will then feel, with a peace that the world can not give nor take away, that God is good. Make a courageous effort to overcome yourself. There can be no occasion that more demands it. Secondly. The peculiar obligation of prayer. Were I to give all the proofs that the subject affords, I should describe every condition of life, that I might point out its dangers, and the necessity of recourse to God in prayer. But I will simply state that under all circum- stances we have need of prayer. There is no situation in which it 100 rfiN^LON. is possible to be placed, where we have not many virtues to acquire and many faults to correct. We find in our temperament, or in our habits, or in the peculiar character of our minds, qualities that do not suit our occupations, and that oppose our duties. One person is connected by marriage to another whose temper is so unequal that life becomes a perpetual warfare. Some, who are exposed to the contagious atmosphere of the world, find themselves so susceptible to the vanity which they inhale that all their pure desires vanish. Others have solemnly promised to renounce their resentments, to conquer their aversions, to suffer with patience certain crosses, and to repress their eagerness for wealth ; but nature prevails, and they are vindictive, violent, impatient, and avaricious. Whence comes it that these resolutions are so frail ? that all these people wish to improve, desire to perform their duty toward God and man better, and yet fail ? It is because our own strength and wis- dom, alone, are not enough. We undertake to do every thing with- out God ; therefore we do not succeed. It is at the foot of the altar that we must seek for counsel which will aid us. It is with God that we must la}' our plan of virtue and usefulness ; it is He alone that can render them successful. Without Him, all our designs, however good they may appear, are only temerity and delusion. Let us then pray, that we may learn what we are and what we ought to be. By this means, we shall not only learn the number and the evil effects of our peculiar faults, but we shall also learn to what virtues we are called, and the way to j)ractice them. The rays of that pure and heavenlj^ light that visits the humble soul, will beam on us ; and we shall feel and understand that every thing is possible to those who put their Avhole trust in God. Thus, not only to those who live in retirement, but to those who are exposed to the agitations of the world and the excitements of business, it is peculiarly necessary, by contemplation and fervent prayer, to restore their souls to that serenity which the dissipations of life, and commerce with men have disturbed. To those who are engaged in business, contemplation and prayer are much more difficult than to those who live in retire- ment ; but it is far more necessary for them to have frequent recourse to God in fervent prayer. In the most holy occupation, a certain degree of precaution is necessary. Do not devote all your time to action, but reserve a certain por- tion of it for meditation upon eternity. We see Jesus Christ invit- ing His discij^les to go apart, in a desert place, and rest awhile, after their return from the cities, where they had been to announce His religion. How much more necessary is it for us to approach the THE SAINT'S CONYERSE WITH GOD. IQl source of all virtue, that we may revive our declining faith and char- ity, when we return from the busy scenes of life, where men speak and act as if they had never known that there is a God I We should look upon prayer as the remedy for our weaknesses, the rectifier of our faults. He who was without sin, prayed constantly ; how much more ought we, who are sinners, to be faithfal in prayer I Even the exercise of charity is often a snare to us. It calls us to certain occupations that dissipate the mind, and that may degen- erate into mere amusement. It is for this reason that St. Chrysos- tom says that nothing is so important as to keep an exact proportion between the interior source of virtue, and the external practice of it ; else, like the foolish virgins, we shall find that the oil in our lamp is exhausted when the bridegroom comes. The necessity we feel that God should bless our labors, is another powerful motive to prayer. It often happens that all human help is vain. It is God alone that can aid us, and it does not require much faith to believe that it is less our exertions, our foresight, and our industry, than the blessing of the Almighty, that can give success to our wishes. Thirdly. Of the manner in which we ought to pray. 1. We must ]pray with attention. God listens to the voice of the heart, not to that of the lips. Our whole heart must be engaged in prayer. It must fasten upon what it prays for; and every human object must dis- appear from our minds. To whom should we speak with attention, if not to God ? Can He demand less of us than that we should think of what we say to Him? Dare we hope that He will listen to us, and think of us, when we forget ourselves in the midst of our prayers ? This attention to prayer, which it is so just to exact from Christians, may be practiced with less difficulty than we imagine. It is true, that the most faithful souls suffer from occasional involun- tary distractions. They can not always control their imaginations, and, in the silence of their spirits, enter into the presence of God. But these unbidden wanderings of the mind ought not to trouble us ; and they may conduce to our perfection even more than the most sublime and affecting prayers, if we earnestly strive to overcome them, and submit with humihty to this experience of our infirmity. But to dwell willingly on frivolous and worldly things^ during prayer, to make no effort to check the vain thoughts that intrude upon this sacred employment, and come between us and the Father of our spirits — is not this choosing to live the sport of our senses, and separated from God ? 2. We must also ash with faith ; a faith so firm that it never fal- 102 El&NELON. ters. He who prays without confidence can not hope that his prayer will be granted. Will not God love the heart that trusts in Him ? Will He reject those who bring all their treasures to Him, and repose every thing upon His goodness ? When we pray to God, says St. Cyprian, with entire assurance, it is Himself who has given us the spirit of our prayer. Then it is the Father listening to the words of His child ; it is He who dwells in our hearts, teaching us to pray. But must we not confess that this filial confidence is wanting in all our prayers ? Is not prayer our resource only when all others have failed us ? If we look into our hearts, shall we not find that we ask of God as if we had never before received benefits from Him ? Shall we not discover there a secret infidelity, that renders us unworthy of His goodness ? Let us tremble, lest, when Jesus Christ shall judge us, He pronounces the same reproach that He did to Peter, "0 thou of little faith, Avherefore didst thou doubt ?" 3. AYe must join humiUiy with trust. Great God, said Daniel, when we prostrate ourselves at Thy feet, we do not place our hopes for the success of our prayers upon our righteousness, but upon Thy mercy. Without this disposition in our hearts, all others, however pious they may be, can not please God. Saint Augustin observes that the failure of Peter should not be attributed to insincerity in his zeal for Jesus Christ. He loved his Master in good faith ; iu good faith he would rather have died than have forsaken Him ; but his fault lay in trusting to his own strength, to do what his own heart dictated. It is not enough to possess a right spirit, an exact knowledge of duty, a sincere desire to perform it. We must continually renew this desire, and enkindle this flame within us, at the fountain of pure and eternal light. It is the humble and contrite heart that God will not despise. Kemark the difference which the Evangelist has pointed out between the prayer of the proud and presumptuous Pharisee, and the humble and penitent Publican. The one relates his virtues, the other deplores his sins. The good works of the one shall be set aside, while the penitence of the other shall be accepted. It will be thus with many Christians. Sinners, vile in their own eyes, will be objects of the mercy of God ; while some, who have made professions of piety, will be condemned on account of the pride and arrogance that have contaminated their good works. It will be so, because these have said in their hearts, " Lord, I thank thee that I am not as other men are." They imagine themselves privileged souls ; they pretend that they alone have penetrated the mysteries of the kingdom of God * THE SAINT'S CONVERSE WITH GOD. 103 they have a language and science of their own ; they beheve that their zeal can accomplish every thiag. Their regular lives favor their vanity ; but in truth they are incapable of self-sacrifice, and they go to their devotions with their hearts full of pride and pre- sumption. Unhappy are those who pray in this manner ! Unhappy are they whose prayers do not render them more humble, more sub- missive, more watchful over their faults, and more willing to live in obscurity ! 4. We must ;pray with love. It is love, says St. Augustin, that asks, that seeks, that knocks, that finds, and that is faithful to what it finds. We cease to pray to God as soon as we cease to love Him, as soon as we cease to thirst for His perfections. The coldness of our love is the silence of our hearts toward God. With- out this we may jpronounce prayers, but we do not pray ; for what shall lead us to meditate upon the laws of God, if it be not the love of Him who has made these laws ? Let our hearts be full of love, then, and they will pray. Happy are they who think seriously of the truths of religion ; but far more happy are they who feel and love them I We must ardently desire that God will grant us spiritual blessings ; and the ardor of our wishes must render us fit to receive the blessings. For if we pray only from custom, from fear, in the time of tribulation — if we honor God only with our lips, while our hearts are far from Him — if we do not feel a strong desire for the success of our prayers — ^if we feel a chilling indifference in approaching Him who is a consuming fire — if we have no zeal for His glory — if we do not feel hatred for sin, and a thirst for perfec- tion, we can not hope for a blessing upon such heartless prayers. 5. We must pray with perseverance. The perfect heart is never weary of seeking God. Ought we to complain if God sometimes leaves us to obscurity, and doubt, and temptation? Trials purify humble souls, and they serve to expiate the faults of the unfaithful. They confound those who, even in their prayers, have flattered their cowardice and pride. If an innocent soul, devoted to God, suffer from any secret disturbance, it should be humble, adore the designs of God, and redouble its prayers and its fervor. How often do we hear those who every day have to reproach themselves with unfaith- fulness toward God, complain that He refuses to answer their prayers I Ought they not to acknowledge that it is their sins which have formed a thick cloud between Heaven and them, and that God has justly hidden Himself from them ? How often has He recalled us from our wanderings I How often, ungrateful as we are, have we been deaf to His voice, and insensible to His goodness I He would 104 f:6n"6lon. make "us feel that we are blind and miserable wlien we forsake Him. He would teach us, by privation, the value of the blessings that we have slighted. And shall we not bear our punishment with patience ? Who can boast of having done all that he ought to have done ; of having repaired all his past errors ; of having purified his heart, so that he may claim as a right that God should listen to his prayer ? Most truly, all our pride, great as it is, would not be sufficient to in- spire such presumption ! If then, the Almighty do not grant our petitions, let us adore His justice, let us be silent, let us humble our- selves, and let us pray without ceasing. This humble perseverance will obtain from Him what we should never obtain by our own merit. It will make us pass happily from darkness to light ; for know, says St. Augustin, that God is near to us even when He ap- pears far from us. 6. We should pray with a x^ure intention. We should not mingle in our prayers what is false with what is real ; what is perishable with what is eternal ; low and temporal interests, with that which concerns our salvation. Do not seek to render God the protector of your self-love and ambition, but the promoter of your good desires. You ask for the gratification of your passions, or to be delivered from the cross, of which He knows you have need. Carry not to the foot of the altar irregular desires, and indiscreet prayers. Sigh not there for vain and fleeting pleasures. Open your heart to your Father in heaven, that His Spirit may enable' you to ask for the true riches. How can He grant you, says St. Augustin, what you do not yourself desire to receive? You pray every day that His will may be done, and that His kingdom may come. How can you utter this prayer with sincerity when you prefer your own will to His, and make His law yield to the vain pretexts with which your self-love seeks to elude it ? Can you make this prayer — you who disturb His reign in your heart by so many impure and vain de- sires ? — you, in fine, who fear the coming of His reign, and do not desire that God should grant what you seem to pray for ? No I if He, at this moment, were to ofier to give you a new heart, and ren- der you humble, and meek, and self-denying, and willing to bear the cross, your pride would revolt, and you would not accept the offer ; or you would make a reservation in favor of your ruling passion and try to accommodate your piety to your humor and fancies ! DISCOURSE FIFTY-FIRST. JAQUES ABBADIE, D.D. This distinguishecl Protestant divine was born at ISTai, near to Pau, in Beam, in the year 1654. Having been tlioronghly educated in the University, he was ordained pastor of the French church, at Berlin, where his influence became great, and especially beneficial to the refugees who fled thither from the ^persecution of Louis XIV. In the smnmer of 1689 he visited Ireland, where he was made minister of the Savoy, and afterward advanced to the deanery of Killaloe. He died in 1727, The Avorks of Dr. Abbadie are numerous, the most celebrated of Avhich are '^ The Art of Knovidng One's self," a treatise on the " Divinity of Christ," and one on the " Truth of the Christian Religion." Of the sec- ond of these. Booth says, " Few have repelled the adversary with those powers of genius, and that force of argument, which were employed by Dr. Abbadie in composing this admirable treatise." Of the latter many critics and able vniters, both Catholic and Protestant, have spoken with admnation. The celebrated Marchioness de Sevigne says, "It is the most divine of all books : this estimate is general. I do not believe that any writers have described religion like this man." Dr. Abbadie always passed for one of the first preachers of his time. His sermons discover order and fitness in their arrangement, and great soHdity and force of persuasion. They also bear obvious traces of a fine and far-reaching imagination, and a great Master, who designs and exe- cutes with dignity and spirit. They are contained in three volumes 12mo., and are very rarely met with. It is much to be desired that they were rendered available to the English reader by a translation. All win concur in this opinion who read the following masterly production. THE SACRIFICE OF ABRAHAM. " And Abraham stretched forth his hand, and took the knife to slay his son." — Gen. xxiL 10. *' The wicked worketb a deceitful work." This is a maxim of the wise man, wbicb. we explained to you last Sunday. The right- 106 JAQTTES ABBADIE. eous also sometimes does a work wliicli deceives him. This is a truth which we are going to exhibit to day. The wicked destroys himself by the efforts which he employs to promote his own gratifi- cation. The believer attains an invaluable object when he seems to act against his own interest. This, my brethren, is a truth which the sacrifice of Abraham admirably confirms : here we find a spec- tacle of horror in appearance ; and we see a holy spectacle in reality. ' It seems, on beholding this object, as if hell must surely triumph ; and it is heaven which finally vanquishes. An action which we should suppose all must detest, becomes the eternal object of their admiration. The pulpits propose it for a model and an example. The memory of it is celebrated in all ages ; and all believers, to the end of time, must make it the perpetual subject of conversation, the con- stant theme of their praise. It is, then, not without cause, that we ask of you to apply yourselves to the consideration of this subhme object. "And Abraham," says the sacred text, " stretched forth his hand, and took the knife to slay his son." It is useless to relate to you the account which is contained in the preceding verses. It is a history too well known for any of you to be ignorant of it. You know that God, wishing to try Abraham, commanded him to take his son, and go and sacrifice him upon a mountain, of which he would tell him. You know, also, that this great and illustrious servant of God obeyed the voice of heaven, and took two of his young men to attend him in his journey — that being arrived near the place where his faith must be thus tried, he ordered his servants to wait for him while he went forward accompanied only by his son — that Isaac, little instructed in his design, asked him — " Where is the lamb for the burnt-offering ?" To which Abra- ham replied — " My son, God will provide Himself a lamb for a burnt-offering;" which afterward occasioned this proverb known among the Jews, " In the mount of the Lord it shall be seen ;" and on account of which this mountain was called after the event, by the name of Moriah. You know that Abraham, having prepared the altar and laid the wood in order, took the submissive, the obedient, the innocent Isaac — that he bound him, and fastened him to the al- tar; and that finally he prepared to finish the most sorrowful and painful sacrifice of which the imagination can conceive. It is this last circumstance, my brethren, which supposes all the others, and which constitutes the essential part of that sacrifice which we must now examine. "And Abraham," says the Scripture, "stretched forth his hand, and took the knife to slay his son." Although these words are sufficiently plain in themselves, it may THE SACRIEICE OF ABRAHAM. 107 not be unprofitable to devote a portion of time to their contempla- tion ; that we may understand the mysteries which they include, and the fruits which we may derive from them. They are capable of three different senses — a literal sense, a mystical sense, and a moral sense. The first relates to the simple facts which they narrate ; the second includes the mysteries which they represent; the third com- municates instruction to our consciences. The sacrifice of Abraham is a singular and astonishing event, which is highly worthy of our consideration. The sacrifice of Abraham is an admirable type of the sacrifice of Jesus Christ, which we can not describe to you under too many images. The sacrifice of Abraham is a model from which we may form the desire of sacrificing to God whatever is most dear to us ; a duty upon which we can not bestow too miich attention. These are the three parts of this discourse. The first will show you Abraham Hfting the knife to plunge it into the bosom of his son ; the second will show you God Himself, with uplifted arm, inflicting His strokes upon His eternal Son, conformably to that ancient type ; the third will show you the believer holding in his hand the sword of the Spirit, and sacrificing the dearest passions of his heart. You will see in the first a material fire ready to consume Isaac, the burnt- offering of Abraham ; you will see in the second the fires of Divine justice surrounding Jesus Christ, the burnt-offering of God ; you will see in the last the sacred fire of the Spirit of God, consuming the vices and passions of our hearts, the burnt-offering of the be- liever. that our hearts, inflamed with this Divine fire, and burnino- ' ' CD with zeal, may present themselves to-day as so many voluntary vic- tims to that great God, who calls them to mortification and to repent- ance ! that the Father of believers may to-day add largely to the number of His children, through the immolation of His Son ! that grace may render Him our Father, though the connection seems to have ceased by nature I that heaven, which arrested the arm that Abraham had already lifted up with so much resolution and courage, may to-day animate and sustain our arms, to enable us to sac- rifice to God our sins and our vices I that we may to-day become so many innocent Isaacs ! that we may be changed into so many courageous Abrahams ! But this is not our work, it is the work of God ; let us beseech Him to animate and encourage us, that we may sacrifice ourselves to Him, at the sight of the sacrifice of Abraham ; and that after being immolated, like Isaac, we may revive and be able to glorify Him in our bodies and our souls eternally. Amen. 108 JAQUES ABBADIE. FiEST Part. — That we may properly ascertain the extent of Abraham's virtue, we must consider the relative situation in which he is placed at this critical period. Abraham is a man ; he is a father ; he adds faith to the promises which God has already given him, and he is filled with love and zeal for his God. The action which he is called to perform, by an order from heaven, seems to violate all these relations, and absolutely to annihilate these quali- ties. Abraham finds that all the affections of the man, all the ten- derness of the father, the confidence and faith of the believer, the love and zeal of a saint, are opposed to his design of offering up his son. Humanity shudders at this bloody spectacle ; nature abhors it ; faith seems to resist it. Zeal and love for God can not endure the idea of it. Let us examine these four conflicts, which terminate in four crowns for our triumphant patriarch. Human nature beholds the ordinary death of man only with pain ; but it looks upon their bloody death with peculiar repug- nance. That horror which our nature feels at human bloodshed, has even attached a kind of infamy to the profession of those who exe- cute the most righteous decrees, and who j)^ii^ish the guiltj^ How much greater, then, is this infamy when innocent blood is spilled ? "When any one, impelled by the violence of passion, commits a mur- der, he draws down upon himself the hatred of heaven and earth. And what is it but murder to sacrifice a man in cold blood, after three days' deliberation, after an example of obedience and con- stancy so rare as that of this man who presents himself to be immo- lated? Yet Abraham, a man, perceives nothing which does not move him to compassion. Abraham, a father, feels nothing which does not plead with him in favor of his son. His interest stands opposed to this sorrowful sacrifice. He has been accustomed to view Isaac as the support of his life, and he must now devote him to death. His regard for the honor of his character can not allow him to con- sent. The death of his son will fix an eternal stigma on his memory. He has hitherto been an example of justice and of piety, beloved by his neighbors, and respected by the nations among whom he has sojourned; and this action is going to render him odious to the whole world. He will draw down upon himself the hatred and im- precations of all mankind. All nations and all ao-es will reo-ard him as an assassin of his own son ; as an enemy of his own bowels who pretended to murderous revelations, and a cruel piety, to com- mit a crime which nature and reason detest. If these reasons are powerful, the voice of paternal affection, which speaks from the bottom of his heart, is yet more so. It is THE SACRIFICE OF ABRAHAM. 109 difficult to conceive wliat must be the emotions of liis breast, at the sight of a victim so dear and so precious. This is the fruit of his loins. He received him from heaven, by a miracle, in an advanced old age, and when the years of Sara no longer allowed him to encour- age this hope. God had tried him by keeping him long in a state of suspense. He had solemnized the birth of this son by public marks of joy. He had abandoned Ishmael and his mother for the love he bare to him. He had brought him up with tender and anx- ious care. His soul was cemented to that of his son, and he saw him- self living again in his person. Isaac, under the blessing of heaven, inherited the virtues of his father. Never was more respect and obe- dience discoverable than in this beloved son ; and never did the affection of a tender father appear to be so just and so reasonable. In fine, the soul of Abraham is occupied only with thoughts of his Isaac, and his heart is engaged only on schemes and projects of paternal love. He would have trembled at the least danger menac- ing the life of his son, were not his heart encouraged by reflecting on the promises of God. But he has no reason to apprehend that any accident will take from him a child whom heaven has miracu- lously given. He employs himself in returning thanks to God for a present Avhich he values so highly ; nor does he think he can suffi- ciently express his gratitude — when, suddenly, his ears are struck with these words : ^^ Abraham j take now thy son, thine only son, Isaac, whom thou loved, and get thee into the land of Moriah ; and offer him there for a hurnt^offering upon one of the mountains which I will tell thee ofy If it is possible, brethreo, only imagine the agitation and trem- bling of Abraham, on hearing these words, so extraordinary and so unexpected ! And permit me, for a moment, to give utterance in your presence, to the heart of this patriarch. "Is it TJ" says he, "Am I Abraham f Is that the voice of my God which I have heard ? Is it my son that it demands of me ? What ! my son, my son Isaac, my only son, my joy, my consolation — shall I see thee stretched upon a pile ? shall I bind thee myself, and shall I imbrue my hands in thy blood ? Is this the fruit of thy obedience, and of the tenderness I have had for thee ? If it be necessary to make such a sacrifice, is there no other priest to be found for the task than myself? Can not my son die without being slain by the hand of his father I 0, my son ! must I mingle my tears with thy blood ? Must I tear out my own bowels ? Is it my God who gives the command ? And can God command me to commit a crime ? Is not Isaac the found- ation of His promises ? Is it not in Isaac that I am the father of 110 JAQUES ABBADIE. many nations? Shall I immolate my son, wlio is a surety for tlie fidelity of my God, and a precious pledge of tlie truth of his promises ? What will become of my faith ? What will become of the glory of God whom I serve ? Will not the nations have reason to blaspheme the name of that God ? — That great and adorable name will be held in execration by all the people of the earth. 0, if this should be the consequence, I would rather perish myself with my son I Let my God lanch His thunders upon this mountain, and let Him reduce me and my son to powder, rather than that my obe- dience should bring such dishonor upon His sacred name ! I will renounce myself, God, but I can not renounce the zeal that ani- mates me for Thy glory I I will sacrifice my son to Thee, I will sac- rifice myself; but I can not sacrifice Thine interests, which are dearer to me than my own life, and the life of my son ! Thy glory restrains me ! Thy lioJy name arrests me ! — But have I forgotten that I am but dust and ashes, that I should speak thus to my Creator ? His un- derstanding is infinite, and mine is restricted. Isaac 'will receive death from the hand of his father, but was it not from the bosom of nothing and of death, that it pleased God to bring him into life ? Was he not conceived in a womb which old age had already dead- ened ? Is God less able to raise hiui from the tomb, than He was to draw him from nothing? Is it becoming in me to refuse my son to that great God, to whom I am indebted for whatever I am, and whatever I possess ? If He will have the life of my son, is He not sufiiciently powerful to take it? and am I strong enough to prevent Him ? — No 1 no 1 I return from ni}^ wanderings. My faith can not be more enlightened than that of Him who gave it birth; nor do I know the interests of God better than God Himself. I will content myself with glorifying Him by my obedience. Since He has raised me above all men on the earth, by the blessings which He has con- ferred upon me, I must rise above the reasonings and common weak- nesses of men, to do what He commands me. God ! I sacrifice to Thee my son, in spite of nature, and the blood that curdles round my heart ! I immolate to Thee my joy and my hopes I It is my heart that I offer to Thee, upon this gloomy pile ! My heart is the burnt-offering which I readily present to Thee, in spite of my weak- ness, and which I am about to slay I" Thus we may suppose that Abraham spoke, while his arm was already stretched out to slay his son. His faith and zeal overcame every other sentiment. There were in Abraham two men, two un- derstandings, two wills : the man of God and the natural man • the old man and the new man ; the will of the flesh and the will of the THE SACRIFICE OF ABRAHAM. HI Spirit ; reason and faith ; the understanding of the man and the un- derstanding of the behever. Two Abrahams combatted one against the other; but Divine and heavenly principles raise him far above those which are carnal and terrestrial. Grace triumphs over nature. Abraham makes a double sacrifice to God : an exterior sacrifice upon the mountain, and an interior sacrifice in the secret of his soul. In the one he takes his son and binds him : in the other he immo- lates to God the sentiments of his soul. Outwardly, it is Isaac who is offered up ; inwardly it is Abraham who suffers, and who sacrifices hwiself. Abraham ascends upon a mountain to finish the exterior sacrifice; the heart of Abraham rises above all the obstacles of the earth, above the weaknesses of flesh and blood, above temporal con- siderations ; and ascends toward God to accomplish the interior sac- rifice. The outward sacrifice is staid, only because the sacrifice within is completed. Isaac rises only after faith has immolated Abra- ham. 0, my brethren, what greatness, what elevation! This is not alone to obtain a victory over the weakness of his heart ; but also a triumph over the most legitimate feelings of nature. This is not merely to overcome doubt and unbelief ; but it is to combat a reason which reposes upon the promises of God, and the assurance of faith. This is not a conflict of the affections of man with the glory and the interests of God ; it is a conflict in which paternal tenderness, and human affection, unite themselves with the glory and the interests of the Deitv. Behold a sacrifice which includes all others I Behold a man who, by one oblation, immolates all things to God I He sacrifices to Him his wealth, which he desired only for the sake of Isaac ; his joy, which depended upon the preservation of his son ; his hopes, which rested upon him ; his love and his tenderness, which were fixed upon this son ; his very reason, which could not comprehend the meaning of this strange sacrifice. But he also sacrifices to Him something which appears to be more considerable, and which has commonly been dearer to the hearts of men. He immolates to Him a sentiment, to which we have seen the most illustrious men sacrifice all things. They have so ardently loved that glory and renown which accom- pany virtue, that they have renounced all other advantages to be able to boast that they possessed this. But behold a man, who, in obe- dience to the orders of heaven, rejects, despises, and, in a certain sense, tramples under foot that glory, that eclat, those fine names, those honorable titles which accompany virtue 1 He assumes the appear- ance of a criminal ; he is willing to pass for a murderer — the mur- derer of his own son 1 It seems as if the love of God, which trans- ]^]^2 JAQUES ABBADIE. ports him, and the zeal wliicli animates him, change the nature of things u23on this monntam. Sin appears to be no more sin. Murder becomes legitimate, and crime demands praise ! Why? because God alone is his authority. He sees none but God ; he hears none but God ; he recognizes neither vice nor virtue but in relation to God. True elevation of an holy soul ! Sublime impulse of a heart in- spired with zeal for God ! Human virtues are only efforts which we make to sacrifice our passions and self-love, that we may exalt ourselves — efforts which do not prevent us from returning again to ourselves. But Abraham goes out of himself, and rises indeed to God ! Never did the Deity regard a sacrifice with so much pleasure — never did heaven behold so delightful a spectacle ! But yet this is not the greatest object which our faith discovers here. It is not the sacrifice of Abraham which demands our highest admiration. There is yet something remaining, more worthy of his attention and of ours. He is now upon mount Moriah ; but let him only lift up his eyes, and he shall behold the mount of Calvary. His son will discover to him his Saviour. The arm which he has lifted up, will show him the arm of God raised against the victim of the human race ; and he will find an adorable mystery which saves him, in that strange sacrifice which has excited all the tender feelings of his heart. Second Part. — In fact, my brethren, the sacrifice of Abraham has been handed down to us, as a great and splendid type of the sacrifice of the cross. Abraham immolates his only son. God also sacrifices His only Son. You see on Moriah a murder in appear- ance, which conceals a sacrifice in effect. On the mount of Calvary you find an oblation, where you only thought you beheld an execrable murder. The victim of Abraham has received existence by a miracle ; Isaac was conceived in the womb of a barren woman. The victim of God has come into the world by a birth yet more miraculoiis ; Jesus Christ was conceived in the womb of a virgin. Isaac is rep- resented to us as an innocent and submissive victim, who does not murmur even when his father stretches out his arm to sacrifice him. Jesus Christ was " holy, harmless, undefiled, and separate from sin- ners;" He was "led as a lamb to the slaughter." Abraham has already seized the knife, and is about to plunge it into the bosom of his son, without having lost any of the tenderness which he has always had for him. The Eternal Father lays His strokes upon His Son, who has ever been the object of His delight, and in Avhom He has always taken the highest pleasure. Isaac, the foundation of the THE SACRIFICE OF ABRAHAM. 113 promises of God, on whose life depended tlie hopes of the Church, and who seemed to include in himself all the benedictions of God, is ahout to be sacrificed npon a mountain, and even by the order of God. But what a wonder 1 Jesus Christ, the Messiah, the Eedeemer of Israel, He who must bring deliverance to Jacob, and who is only sent into the world to free him from his sins — that Jesus who, so to speak, holds in His hands all the graces and all the benedictions of heaven — is about to suffer death ; and even by the eternal counsel of God ! Who is not surprised, also, at this event ? Isaac, reviving, as it were, after his sacrifice, and in a certain sense arising from under the knife which his father had already suspended over him, leaves a posterity numerous as the stars of heaven, and as the sand on the sea- shore, in which are accomplished the promises and the oracles of God. Jesus Christ, really restored to life after the sacrifice of His body, and rising gloriously after His death, beholds an infinite number of His children and disciples who follow Him, and whom He renders partakers of all the graces, and of all the blessings of heaven ; ac- according to that ancient prediction, "When thou shalt make His soul an offering for sin, He shall see His seed, He shall prolong His days, and the pleasure of the Lord shall prosper in His hand." Behold the agreement which subsists between these two sacrifices, and which obliges us to consider one of these objects in the other, as in the most perfect type. But behold the difference which dis- tinguishes them, and which discovers to us how much the image sinks below the original ! Go to Moriah, and you will find there a victim who follows the priest without knowing, at first, whither he is going, and who asks his father, " Where is the lamb for a burnt-offering ?" Turn your eye toward Calvary, and you will see Jesus Christ who exposes Himself voluntarily to the sword of His Father, and who, perfectly acquainted with His destiny, says to Him, " Lo, I come to do Thy will, God." There angels are sent from heaven to arrest the arm of Abraham ; Here devils issue from hell to hasten the death of Jesus Christ. In the sacrifice of Isaac, the fire, the knife, the sacrificer are visible, but the victim does not at first appear. In the sacrifice of Jesus Christ, the victim appears first, but the knife, which is the sword of Divine justice, and the fire, which consists in the ardor of His wrath and judgments, are invisible, are only seen by the eyes of faith. Upon the mountain of Moriah, Abraham sacrifices his son to his Master, to his Benefactor, to his Creator, to his God. Upon the mount of Cal- vary, God immolates His Son for the salvation of men^ who are 8 114 JAQUES ABBADIE. notliing but meanness, misery, and corruption. There Abraham renounces his blood and himself to obey a God who can amply reward him for his loss. Here God gives what He esteems 'the most precious to save men, who have not even the means of so much as expressing their gratitude, and who could not find it in their own bosoms to do it. There we see one who is but dust and ashes, mak- ing a sacrifice to God of what he received from Him. Here we see the Deity sacrificing the object of His eternal affection and de- light — His treasure — His Son — for the salvation of dust and ashes. In fine, in the one^ is a man who is sacrificed to God' — ^in the other, is a God who is sacrificed for man. Here flesh and blood must be silent, and cease to murmur. Abra- ham does infinitely less for God, than God had done for Abraham. He presents bis son — he binds to slay him. But God had already slain His Son for the salvation of Abraham ; for this, in the language of Scripture, is the "Lamb slain before the foundation of the world." Heaven has therefore prevented the earth. And does Abraham, then, exalt himself by this action ? No ; he remains profoundly abased before his Creator. Does he not attempt to justify himself before God ? No ; but he lays himself under new obligations. He receives all from God, when he seems to give up all to God ; since the father and the son. the priest and the victim, have no real existence save in the regard that God already had to the sacrifice of the cross. Had not God already sacrificed His Son for the salvation of Abra- ham, Abraham would not have been in a condition to sacrifice his son to God. It is the efficacy of the blood which Jesus had shed, that gives strength to Abraham, to raise the arm that he may shed his own blood. The virtue and the zeal which are so illustriously displayed upon the mountain of Moriah, have their source and sub- stance upon the mount of Calvary. Thus, my brethren, the sacri- fice of Jesus Christ is found in the sacrifice of Isaac ; the sacrifice of Isaac in its accomplishment in its type, is found in the sacri- fice of Jesus Christ. From the sacrifice of Jesus Christ, proceed the strength and virtue which inspire Abraham; from the sacri- fice of Abraham, proceeds the light which discovers the sacrifice of Jesus Christ. But both must be found in the sacrifice of our hearts, which is their legitimate and natural end. This is the third object of our meditation, with which we purpose to finish this discourse. Thied Paet. — It is very proper that we should admire the two great objects which we have just set before you ; but permit us to say THE SACRIFICE OF ABRAHAM. 115 that this admiration will be wholly useless, nnless it be accompanied with the practice of those duties which these truths enforce upon us. The great point is, to draw from them those results which may influence our lives. We must now, therefore, dwell for a few moments, upon the sacrifice of ourselves. In effect, the words of our text oblige us to draw four conclusions. Abraham immolates to God his only-begotten son ; we ought, then, to sacrifice to God whatever is most dear and precious to us. Abraham hears neither the murmurs nor opposition of flesh and blood ; he does not even assign any of those reasons which seem so plausible, and which naturally strike the mind, to justify him in dispensing with the commandment of God. We ought, then, to renounce all those vain reasonings and pretexts, which flesh and blood employ, to prevent us from doing whatever God commands. Abraham loses no time. No sooner does he hear the voice of God directing him, than he sets out on his journey ; and he binds his son immediately when he has reached the destined spot. We ought, then, to render to God a prompt obedience. We must not look behind, but we must glorify God in promptly sacrificing our vices. In fine, the holy patriarch neither trembles nor wavers when he is commanded to sacrifice his son ; he stretches out his son, and seizes the knife. We ought not, then, to content ourselves with a few feeble and imperfect dispositions of a pious tendency, which we may feel within us. We must neither delay nor dissemble, nor lose our courage, when we are required to renounce our vices and to sacrifice our passions. Four truths with which our text famishes us, for the instruction of our consciences ; and upon which we shall do well to meditate. 1. It appears that the commandment which God gave to Abraham, was a mysterious commandment. In exacting this sublime effort of virtue from the father of the faithful, he seems to have described the kind of sacrifice which He should demand from believers in future times. Abraham was obliged to testify his faith by the sacrifice of his son ; true believers, under the Gospel, are obliged to testify their faith by renouncing themselves. Jesus Christ, the teacher sent firom God, instructs them that they must "hate their own souls" for His sake; that they must "pluck out their eyes and cut off their hands," to enter into the celestial kingdom to which He calls them. It is true these words are figurative ; but they are not the less forcible on that account, since the Son of God considered this truth of so much importance, that He chose to employ the most lively expres- sions to render it intelligible. But to confine oxirselves to the ideas in our text, it is proper to 116 JAQUES ABBADIE. remark that we all carry about with us an Isaac- in our hearts ; or rather, that there are three Isaacs in every one of us. There is an Isaac of sin ; an Isaac of nature ; and an Isaac of grace. The first we must every where, and at all times sacrifice to God ; the second we are not called to immolate but in certain circumstances; and the third God requires that we always spare. If you are anxious to know what is this Isaac of sm, ask your heart, what is the vice which it loves ? It is that criminal pleasure which voluptuousness promises you. It is that cruel satisfaction which vengeance gives you. It is that malignant joy which the mis- fortunes of others produce in your hearts, and of which you dare not make a pubhc avowal. It is whatever gives a relish to slander. It is that fatal and worldly joy which you derive from the human pas- sions. It is the pleasure which avarice, pride, and ambition con- fer. It is, in fine, the fruit which you think that you derive from all the sins that you commit. Can we hesitate to sacrifice to God this Isaac of corruption, when we see Abraham offering up his Isaac — that Isaac the object of his tenderness — that Isaac whom he loves ? Shall we love vice more than Abraham loved his son ? If this patriarch binds an Isaac whom heaven had given him, shall we fear to sacrifice an Isaac which hell has placed in our hearts ? Can we contemplate Abraham lifting up his arm to destroy the work of God, at the Divine command, and hesitate one moment about destroy- ing the work of the devil, when God so often exhorts us to it ? Abraham sacrifices an Isaac who is the foundation of all the promises of God. And shall not we put that Isaac to death, who is the founda- tion of all His threatenings ? Abraham is going to slay him from whom must proceed salvation and blessings to the people. And shall not we sacrifice that idol, which engenders only misery and death ? And, my brethren, we must make a still greater sacrifice. We must sacrifice to God that Isaac of nature — that innocent Isaac whom we love without crime, but whom we can not refuse to God without in- gratitude. There are three occasions on which God demands from you this sacrifice. They are the times of sickness ; the season of ad- versity ; and the day of death. In sickness we must sacrifice to God the complaints and murmurings of human nature ; the hope of health which can never be re-established ; the sight of friends which are about to be taken away from us. In adversity we must sacrifice to Him the good things which we justly possessed, and which we pos- sess no more. Finally, in death, we must make a voluntary offer- ing of all that we are to leave behind us. We must offer to God THE SACRIFICE OF ABRAHAM. 117 relations, friends, estates, riches, grandeur, tlie care of our children, the preservation of our families, father and mother, and whatever we possess. For, doubt not, my brethren, that we can make a pres- ent to God of things that we no longer possess. We can offer Him whatever we lose, without fearing that He will refuse it. We can sacrifice to Him things which are not in our power. This is the ex- cellence and the wonderful advantage of religion. We give to God whatever we cheerfully relinquish for His sake ; and hence we place ourselves above the necessity which impels us. But this can only be done, by early acquiring an holy habitude of de- taching ourselves from the world, and fixing our confidence upon the spiritual good which God has promised. This sacrifice must be- gin during life, and terminate at death. We must incessantly sacri- fice ourselves to God; by submitting without complaint to the sacred orderings of Providence ; by acquiescing in His good pleas- ure, in all things ; and by humbly receiving the good and the evil, which in His widom He is pleased to dispense to us ; being always in that disposition which led Job of old formerly to say, " The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away ; blessed be the name of the Lord." Finally, we must renounce our reason, our desires, and our feelings, when the renunciation of them is requisite to the ad- vancement of His glory. 2. But perhaps you will say. How can we rise thus above our- selves ? Are we Abrahams, that we should sacrifice ourselves to God? "Are we Abrahams!" And what matters it, my brethren, that we are not ? Are we under less obligations to God than that ancient patriarch? Are our means of knowledge less than his? Abraham performs this action without an example ; but we have the example of Abraham before our eyes. Abraham only knew the Deity through the mysterious shadows and vails with which He then covered Himself; but " We all with open face behold as in a glass the glory of the Lord." Abraham had no clear and distinct ideas of the salvation which we have obtained through the blood of our Lord ; but we see the life, glory, and immortality which are brought to light by Jesus Christ. Shall our zeal, then, grow colder, because grace '' Hath appeared unto us?" Shall our gratitude diminish, because the heavens are opened to us ? Shall we discover such weakness, because we are not solitary as Abraham was, but are " Encompassed with so great a cloud of witnesses" who encourage us by their example, and whom we have seen pass before us — martyrs for God in this career of 118 JAQUES ABBADIE. blood and tears? Shall we no more sacrifice ourselves for God, since the Son of God has sacrificed Himself for us? Or rather is there less necessity now to immolate to God our af- fections and vices, than Abraham formerly bad to sacrifice bis son ? Is the Yoice from beaven now silent wbicb formerly spake to this patriarch ? No, it speaks to us in a variety of ways, all clear and intelligible. Do you suppose that the oracle of Abraham does not address us ? God speaks to us by the mouth of the prophets ; He speaks to us by the eternal word. He speaks to us by the wounds of His Son, which are so many mouths to teach us our duty. He descends in tongues of fire upon the Apostles, to speak to us by their ministry. Every day He employs the voice of His servants to speak to our consciences ; and instead of one command which He ad- dressed formerly to Abraham, He addresses to you an infinity of ex- hortations, and reiterates, incessantly, in your ears, His command of death to sin, and renunciation of the world. How blind are we, my brethren, if we yet find it difficult to understand the will of this great God, who still speaks to lis, and if we do not yet know that we must take up our cross and follow Him ; that He calls us all to die, to hate ourselves, and to glorify Him by a prompt renunciation of the desires of the flesh, and the delights of sin ! My dear brethren, we are sufficiently acquainted with our duty ; but the self-love and cupidity which enslave us, find a thousand pre- texts to prevent us from rendering to God the obedience which we owe to Him. " I must sacrifice my resentments to God ; I know it ;" — we say in the recesses of our hearts — " but I am cruelly in- sulted ; my honor is at stake." As if in making a sacrifice to God •>-^. 'we. must give up nothing! *'Imust relinquish this object of sen- suaSlity and mirth ; but the inclination which draws me toward it is strong; I'can not forsake it.*' "I must renounce the world; but I must also imitate its customs, and live as others." *' I must follow the Saviour who proposes Himself as an example to us,' that we should tread in His steps ; but shall I oppose commonly received practices, and expose myself to the shafts of satire and of slander, by an unusual course of conduct ?" Yain pretexts of flesh and blood ! Eidiculous and miserable evasions of an heart possessed with the world and its vanities I Can you compare these empty reasonings with those specious and plausible pretexts which presented themselves to the mind of Abraham ? Had he wished to dispense with the obliga- tion of obeying his God, heaven and earth, nature and religion, fur- nished him with abundant excuses ; but he despises every thing to obey promptly the voice of his God, who gives him the command. THE SACRIFICE OF ABRAHAM. II9 The love of tlie world wliicli is iu "as, and the habit which we cherish of warmly interestiDg ourselves ia the affairs of this life, de- termine our minds to take the part of the world, and to seek for false reasons to dispense with banishing it from our hearts. But were we accustomed to the long and holy habit of loving our God more than all the objects of this life, as Abraham was, we should take the part of God against the world, without listening to the lan- gaiage of that impostor, who only makes use of our weakness, our hesitations, and our delays, to vanquish us. 3. If Abraham had indulged, at first, too much complaisance for the feelings of flesh and blood, and the tender movements of his heart, which pleaded with him in behalf of Isaac, he would have fallen from one degree of weakness to another, and the sight of his son would have caused the knife to drop from his hand : and then his purpose to obey God, and the efforts he had employed, would have been of no avail ; since he must inevitably have been guilty of re- bellion and disobedience in the sight of God. Thus,- my brethren, let us beware that we cherish none of those cowardly weaknesses, or those criminal condescensions to our passions, which leave vice to live and reign in our hearts. Let us arm ourselves with a holy severity in this respect ; and above all, let us hasten to profit by the good dispositions which God produces in our hearts, if it is true that we are to-day moved by that great object which now strikes our eyes. No hesitation ! no delay ! — to-day — at this hour — ^this moment, let us hear the voice of God, let us not harden our hearts I Let us imitate the holy patriarch in the fervor and promptitude of his zeal ! Let us hasten to sacrifice to God our pride, our avarice, our volup- tuousness, our ambition, our slander, our resentments, our doubts, our complainings ! how pleasant an odor will this sacrifice send forth' before God, who regards us to-day, and who perceives the bottom of our thoughts and hearts ! how will our souls be filled with consolation and joy, if, while we hear the voice of God, and faith transports us to the mount Moriah, we sacrifice ourselves to God by a sincere repent- ance, by a happy separation from whatever engages our affections and by a prompt renunciation of whatever charms our hearts ! 4. Let us not fear to renounce whatever is dear to us ; and be well assured that the depravity of our hearts is so great, that if we wish to know what are our most fatal attachments, we have only to examine what those are, which inspire us with most joy and pleasure. Sin, in almost every case, pleases us in proportion as it is danger- 120 JAQUES ABBADIE. OTIS ; and we may say in almost every case that it is dangerous in proportion as it pleases us. Do not, then, spare a vice because it is the delight of your heart. Abraham did not so reflectrespecting Isaac ; and why should you respecting sin ? Whatever in your souls opposes itself to the glory of God, destroy it ; annihilate it ; sacrifice it to Him who demands it. Seize the victim ! GrasjD the knife I Boldly strike the blow ! . Expect not that heaven will send you angels to interrupt this sacrifice I They will be sent only to exhort you to finish it ! Axld heaven, and this pulpit, will never address to you any other language ! To-day, then, " present your bodies a^ving sacrifice, Koly, accept- able unto God, which is your reasonable . service." And be certain that this happy annihilation of yourselves, will give birth to the most lively hopes. You will ascend toward God, while you sacri- fice all things to His glory ; and God will descend toward you, as He came in olden time to Abraham ; and ' will say to you — " Now I know that thou fearest God!" To this great God, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, be honor, glory, majesty, and dominion, forever and ever I Amen. DISCOURSE FIFTY.SECOND. DANIEL DE SUPEKVILLE. Superyuxe was bom aVAnjou, in the month of August, 1657, and educated in the college at Saumur, and at Geneva. His first pastoral charge, of a Httle more than two years, was at Loudun, where he ac- quired so much reputation as to incur the malice of the enemies of Protestantism, who endeavored in vain, by bringmg him to a trial for sedition, at Paris, to shake his faith. At the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, he fled to Holland and took up his residence at Rotterdam ; where he continued to exercise the functions of a good minister of Jesus Christ, till prevented by the advance of age. He died the 9th of Jime, 1728. Superville was ranked among* the most eminent ministers of his day. His powers of argument and effective appeal were very ^reat. His printed sermons were widely circulated, and generally passed rapidly through several editions, upon their appearance. The criticism^ of Doddridge is well known : " As to the French sermons, I never met* with any of them that are to be compared with those of M. de Super- ville, the Protestant minister at Rotterdam. He especially excels in the beauty of his imagery, descriptions, and similies ; and has some of the most pathetic expostulations I ever saw." A few of his sermons were translated into English, and pubhshed, many years ago, in Lon- don. In the French they fill four octavo volumes. CHRIST THE ONLY WAY OF SAL^TIOK ; "I am the way, and the truth, and the life; no man cometh unto the Father, but by Me." — John, xiv. 6. Men are the subjects of three very ancient evils ; Sxii, ignorance, and death. When I survey all the religions which have appeared in the world, all the sects of , philosophers, aU the arts which have been 122 DANIEL DE SUPERYILLE. invented, to find remedies against these three evils, I seem to be- hold human nature in the situation of those diseased persons, who, among certain nations, used to be placed at the doors of their houses, that every passerby might contribute his advice or medicine for their cure. For want of skillful physicians, and a solid and regular practice, to which they were strangers, all were in the habit of pre- scribing for their neighbors, and each individual communicated the result of his own experience. But what multitudes passed by us, and considered our maladies, before one was found able to cure them ! Philosophers came with their pretended discoveries, their counsels and their precepts. They proposed to dissipate our gloom, and to restore us to happiness by reclaiming us to virtue. They gave us nothing but words. They wrote fine books, and made large promises to our wants, but were not able to reheve them. They called upon man to arise ; and they gave him no strength to obey the exhortation. They called upon him to look ; and they afforded him only a transient, glimmering light, insuffi.cient for the discernment of objects. They dissuaded from the fear of Death ; but they never disarmed him, or supplied any means of escaping from his power. The world with its policy and prudence, the arts it has invented, its power and protection, has never been able to effect more than a temporary oblivion of these evils. It has left them as great and incurable as ever. All the relig- ions which appeared before Jesus Christ, were equally unsuccessful in their attempts to remedy them. Most of them estabhshed the dominion of ignorance and vice, instead of dehvering from their power; and they vainly attempted to purify their votaries and appease the divinity, by their sacrifices, victims, and lustrations. Moses himself and the law which he promulgated, only declared — "We are not " He that is to come ; look ye for another I" They only made the patient more sensible 'of his disease and more ardently de- sirous of its cure. At last Jesus Christ came, and with Him every thing came. Of Him may be truly affirmed what the philosopher caused to be falsely inscribed on his school. ''Here is a remedy for all evils." Yes, Christians, in Him we find a remedy against sin, ignorance, and death ; and in vain would you hope to find one, except in Him and His religion. He declares, " I am the way, and the truth, and the life : no man cometh unto the Father, but by Me." You must not expect us to say every thing that might be ad- vanced on this comprehensive text. These few compendious words comprise all the glory of our Mediator, all the benefits He bestows CHRIST THE ONLY WAY OF SALYATION. 123 upon US, all the advantages we derive from His alliance. And wlio could fully develop all these things in the short period allotted to this exercise ? We shall only endeavor to exhibit the most essen- tial and important lessons which the passage contains. The text naturally divides itself into two propositioDS, very closely connected, and mutually explanatory of each other. The first shows what titles Jesus Christ assumes with reference to us. "I am," says He, "the way, and the truth, and the life." This we shall endeavor to elucidate in our first part. Then we shall ex- amine the second proposition ; which shows that this great Saviour, to the exclusion of every other, is our only conductor to the Father. " No man cometh unto the Father, but by Me." The explication and proof of this important truth will form our second part. I. To develop and elucidate the meaning of these magnificent words, " I am the way, and the truth, and the life," we shall do two things. First, we shall consider the three appellations generally, and shall offer some useful remarks on the union, extent, and force, of the three connected together. Then we shall consider them sepa- rately, and, as far as we can, shall exhibit the meaning, beauty, and truth, of each of these glorious titles. Our first observation must relate to the occasion of this discourse. Jesus Christ was about to leave His disciples. All the grief and terror which the fear of a melancholy desertion could excite in the mind, the Apostles felt ; and amid the trouble into which sorrow had plunged them, they no longer knew what they said, or remem- bered things with which they ought to have been most deeply im- pressed. He had spoken of his absence as a journey on which he was going to prepare a place for them, after which he would come to them again. Upon this, Thomas said : '' Lord, we know not whither Thou goest, and how can we know the way?" Jesus re- plied: *' I am the way, and the truth, and the life." You say that you know not the way to follow Me, and I am Myself the way by which you must go to the Father ; a way that you ought to know, and it is unnecessary to seek for another. " Because I have said these things to you, sorrow hath filled your heart." But if '' ye believe in God, believe also in Me." " I ani the truth." Confide in My prom- ises ; "I will come again, and receive you unto Myself" You fear the world and its persecutions; My approaching death terrifies you ; and you tremble for yourselves. " I am the life." I will come again; I shall rise from the dead on the third day. "Because I live, ye shall live also." He that loseth his life for My sake, shall find it again in Me and by Me. For by Me is the only way of access to the 124 DANIEL DE SUPERVILLE. glory of the Father. This is the general sense and scope of the whole text. Secondly, whether you take these expressions separately, or join them together and consider them as exemplifying a figure very common in the style of the Scriptures, as well as of profane authors — by which '' the way, the truth, and the life" will be understood as denoting the true way to life, or the way which leads to life, or the true and living way — in every form, the proposition is true, and the sense just and certain. To affirm separately, that Jesus Christ is the way, that He is the truth, that He is the life, or conjointly to affirm that He is the true way to life, is equally correct. Thirdly." — That the language of Jesus Christ is evidently figu- rative, can not be doubted. Here you perceive how very familiar and common the use of figurative terms was with Him, even when he was conversing with His dearest disciples with a view to their instruction and consolation. Such modes of expression serve to con- vey an idea with more vividness and power, and in fewer words, than could be done by simple terms. There is something at once far more concise and energetic in Jesus's calling Himself "the way, the truth, and the life," than if He had simply described Himself as the guide to Heaven, the teacher of truth, and the giver of life. Fourthly, let us observe, that in order to a correct explication of these titles which the Saviour assumes, they must be applied to Him in one and the same point of view. He is " the truth and the life," in the same character in which He is " the way." He is the way, considered as Mediator, God and Man, who not only has united in His person two natures infinitely different, but by the actions of ffis ministry has reconciled heaven and earth. When He says, in the next clause, "No man cometh unto the Father, but by Me," He speaks of Himself as Mediator. It is in this character, therefore, that He also considers Himself when He says, " I am the truth and the life." Though it may be truly affirmed that He is ^' the truth, and the life," essentially and of Himself; eternal truth, uncreated wisdom, original life, necessarily existing, without beginning and without end, who gives to all things whatever they have of subsist- ence, life and motion : yet it appears evident to me, that this i^ not what He intends to assert in this place ; but that He contemplates rather what He is with relation to us, than what He is in Himself by His divine nature ; in a word, that He speaks of Himself as Me- diator. It must also be remarked, that though this description exhibits Jesus Christ in the capacity of Mediator, yet the titles and qualities CHRIST THE ONLY WAT OF SALTATION. 125 here mentioned are sucli as no mere man could ever arrogate to himself. It could never be said of any mere man, that he is the truth and the life, that He is the source of those qualities, or possesses them in a supreme degree. No one of the Evangelists gives us so sublime a representation of Jesus Christ and His divinity, as John. He has carefully collected certain discourses of the Son of God which are altogether divine ; and taking the language of the Saviour as his model, he adopts, both in his gospel and his epistles, whenever he speaks of the Lord Jesus, a style peculiar to himself. Yes, my brethren, in these words, " I am the way, and the truth, and the life," we must acknowledge the voice of God, and not of man. What man ever spake like this Man ? Do you not perceive in His language a character of great- ness, which confirms what we believe, that the Lord Jesus is both God and Man in one person ? ''I am," he says : that is, *' I am He who is, and who was, and who is to come :" who is the way, who was the expected truth, and who will he the life to all the faithful. When men say, / am ; if they mean to do justice, they will say, with Abraham, '^ I am but dust and ashes ;" with David, " I am a stranger and a sojourner, as all my fathers were ;" with Peter, *' I am a sinful man." This is all that man can boast of in himself. He is mere dust, weakness, death; but Jesus Christ is "the life." Man is a traveler who has lost his road ; but Jesus Christ is " the way." Man is ignorance and error ; but Jesus Christ is '^ the truth." These words also exhibit a character of greatness, inasmuch as Jesus Christ is not afraid of declaring openly and freely what He is. Men in general wish others to say what they £tre, in preference to saying it themselves, from a fear that none will believe them. Their vanity is fond of concealing itself under the appearances of an in- genuous and deUcate humility from which their pride hopes to derive some new advantage. False modesty ! which endeavors to steal the esteem of mankind by external deceptions. But Jesus Christ seeks not these stratagems. He is above our weakness and fears, and the artifice of our self-love. The ancient heathens deemed it a noble sincerity, characteristic of true heroes, to profess ingenously what they thought of themselves. It is far more interesting to the salva- tion of men, that Jesus Christ dissembles not what He is, but de- clares His glory and His benefits. Therefore, without any circum- locution, He affirms on this occasion, "I am the way, and the truth, and the life." Lastly, we must not forget to remark what a great difference there is between the titles claimed or accepted by men, and those which 126 DANIEL DE SUPEEYILLE. are assumed by Jesus Christ. Tlie titles of men have many faults ; the three following are very common. In the first place, they are marks of weakness of mind, of vanity and pride, rather than proofs of true glory and virtue. One is de- nominated Good, another Magnificent, August, Merciful, Bold, "Wise, Just, Great. But even in cases where the persons honored with any of these fine names, are not wholly destitute of some cor- respondent virtues, those virtues are so small that all we can con- sider such titles as implying is, that in certain individuals there is a little good and much evil, little virtue and great pride. In the second place, is it not a great fault in men to prefer titles which exjDress power and greatness to those which indicate goodness and usefulness ? Yet nothing is more common. Intoxicated with a false idea of glory, they scarcely ever make it consist in virtues that are peaceable, useful, beneficent, adopted to promote the public re- pose. The surnames of Great, Conqueror, and Invincible are more acceptable to them than those of Good, Just, and Father of the people. In the last place, so far are these surnames from presenting an idea of any good, that most of them have no foundation but in great evils. Nothing less than the infliction of calamity upon some provinces, and the ruin of many thousands of families, is necessary to constitute a claim to the title of Conqiaror, Thus one has been named Polior- ceieSj or a Taker of Cities ; another Asiaiicus, or Africanus^ from the country which submitted to his arms, or was the scene of his war- like achievements ; another The Great, or The Victorious. Proud mortals, efface all your titles ! Jesus Christ is the only one who deserves to wear them ! In Him all names are inferior to the realities ! He is the only being who possesses perfections Avithout mixture or shade ! whose glory is in harmony with the happiness of all I whose virtues are great in themselves and beneficial to mankind ! Thus it is with relation to us, and in the capacity of our Mediator and Head, that He here denominates Himself " the way, and the truth, and the life." From these general remarks let us proceed to a more particular examination of each of these expressions by itself Jesus Christ is ''the way to the Father." Is He so, simply because He teaches by His doctrine what we ought to believe and to practice ? One inter- preter refers not only this first title, but the others also, exclusively to the doctrine of Christ, and tells us that our Lord often affirms of His person what properly belongs to His doctrine, and that He em- ploys substantives instead of adjectives. But we consider this inter- preter as weakening the force of the terms, and diminishing the glory CHRIST THE ONLY WAT OP SALVATION. 127 of our Saviour, wlio is in Himself " the way to the Father/' not only by His doctrine but by His merit : not only as our prophet, but as our priest. First, then, I observe that Jesus Christ is " the way," beyond all doubt, by His doctrine and His precepts. By the revelation of His Gospel, He has taught us what we ought to believe concern- ing God, and what we ** must do to be saved." But this sense is far from reaching all the extent of the expression — " I am the way." It must be added, in the second place, that beside doctrines, precepts, and promises, Christ has also given us examples. His actions have marked out a road in which we ought to walk. He has " left us an example, that we should follow His steps." This sense, however, still fails of exhausting all the force of the Saviour's language. In the third place. He is " the way " by his merit: and this is certainly what He principally intended here, where He was evidently speaking of his death. Eeflect, my brethren, on the state of sin in which were, and which caused a separation between God and us. Eeflect on the distance between sinful man and a righteous God : and if you inquire how sinners may draw nigh to God, listen to Jesus Christ, who informs you, " I am the way." He reopens the communica- tion between God and man, as we shall see more at large in the sequel of our discourse. His merit alone has appeased Divine just- ice. Without Him we should have no right to communion with God. He is also the channel by which our prayers, and acts of piety, ascend to God, and the gifts of God descend to us. The second expression, '' I am the truth," in like manner, pos- sesses considerable force. Its meaning is equally noble and just. It signifies, in the first place, that our Lord is eminently true, " the faithfal and true witness ;" true in His promises and threatenings ; true in His oracles ; true in His doctrine and the mysteries He has revealed. Placed in opposition to all men, Jesus Christ is the in- fallible teacher. He "came into the world to bear witness unto the truth." His " word is truth." But not only is He the great teacher of truth. He is the truth itself ; because in His person and in His office of Mediator, He is the object of our knowledge, the end of the law, and the center of re- ligion. As God and Man united, as God manifest in the flesh, He is the truth of the oracles — which He verified ; the truth of the promises — which He fulfilled ; the truth of the figures— of which He was the archetype ; the truth of the ceremonies and of the whole law — of which He was the end. "Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to every one that believeth." "- The law was give;n 12S DANIEL DE SUPERVILLE. by Moses, but grace and truth came by Jesus Christ." Without Him we could know but little of the justice and mercy of God, the extent of His perfections, the secrets of His providence. Without Him, the fall of man, the permission of sin, the preservation of a sinful world, the choice of the Jewish people among all nations while all others were abandoned, and the miracles wrought in favor of that nation, would be enigmas impossible to be deciphered. How much might be said on this part of the subject, if we had time to dwell upon it! The heathens complained that truth was hid- den in a loeU. In Jesus Christ it has emerged from its concealment. He has "revealed things" which were in the bosom of the Father, which "^eye" had " not seen, nor ear heard, neither" had " entered into the heart of man." He is Himself the principal subject of all revelation : Him the prophets announced before He came ; Him the apostles preached after His appearance. " This is life eternal," to *'know Thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom Thou hast sent." Let us further observe, that He is the source of all revelation, not only by the things which He Himself taught in addition to the hght of nature and the institutes of Moses, but also by those which the apostles taught after Him. For by the Spirit whom He sent, were discovered to them the secrets of the Father. What He de- livered Ho drew from His own stores ; and it was from His stores that the Holy Spirit drew those communications with which He in- sjpired the apostles. *' Therefore," said Jesus, " He shall take of Mine, and shall show it unto you." The third title, '' I am the life," is not inferior to the other two, we may affirm that each of the titles which Christ assumes, and this among them, has an infinity of meaning : but I shall confine myself to the following summary. He is " the life" in opposition to three kinds of death, spiritual death or a death in sin, corporeal death, and eternal death. In opposition to spiritual death "Christ is our life," because after having justified us by His blood, He raises us to newness of life by the grace of His Spirit. He sanctifies and makes us new creatures ; He quickens us, and enables us to walk in the paths of righteousness ; He nourishes and confirms us, and leads us from strength to strength. He is the author, principle, and source of our spiritual life, by the merit of His death, the precepts of His word, and the energy of the Spirit. In opposition to corporeal death, ^* Christ is our life," because He will raise our bodies from the dust. " I am the resurrection and the life : he that belie veth in Me, though he were dead, yet shall he live." He reigns over our tombs and will one day command the earth to give up her dead. " I know that my CHRIST THE ONLY WAT OF SALVATION. ^29 Eedeemer liveth, and that He shall stand at the latter day upon the earth ; and though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God : whom I shall see for myself, and mine eyes shall behold." Lastly, in opposition to eternal death, " Christ is our life," because He has dehvered us from hell, merited heaven and procured eternal life, into the possession of which He will solemnly introduce us after the resurrection, w^hen He will say, " Come, ye blessed of My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you." I can not refrain from remarking farther, that in the term '^ life" there is a twofold opposition to all other religions; and to their authors. Every where, except in Jesus Christ, you find nothing but death and a curse. Death in paganism whose very gods were mortal ; death in human traditions ; death even in the law of Moses, which condemned for the violation of a single point. . But the religion of Christ exhibits truth and life. Compare Christ with all other found- ers of religions. Which of them has received the keys of the tomb ? Which of them has asserted an empire over death ? Have they given life to their followers ? Have they raised one person from the dead ? Ah ! so far from giving life to others, they could not pre- serve their own ! The Zoroasters, the Orpheuses, the ISTumas, the Mahammeds are dead ; they are neither life nor living. How long have dust and worms evinced the fraud of these impostors, and their dry bones admonished mankind : "Mortals, expect not from us the life which you seek I" Moses is dead, and his sepulcher is not less real because it is concealed. But do you doubt whether Christ is *^ the life ?" He is risen again, and ascended into heaven ! *' He was dead, but is alive again ; and behold He is ahve for evermore !" Death and the grave will confess that their bonds were too feeble to detain " the Prince of Life." Enough has been said to evince our Saviour to be " the way, the truth, and the hfe." Brt!: why does not Jesus content Himself with assuming one title ? Why does He accumulate three ? His design is to exhibit Himself as our all ; our way in which we ought to walk, our truth to en- lighten our path, our life to quicken us, to sustain in oui' journey, and to crown us at the end. He connects the three titles, because He can not be divested of three qualities. And without possessing them. He could never bestow upon us a full and complete salvation. Without truth^ He could not be our way to life. If He were not our way^ He would cease to be our truth and our life. If He were not able to give me life^ I should no longer regard Him as my way and my truth. 9 130 DANIEL DE SUPERVILLE. You nil know that under the law there were three classes of lead- ers ; kings at the head of the state, priests at the head of the Church, and prophets who, on some extraordinary occasions, reformed both, the Church and the state. But Jesus Christ with great advantage sustains all these characters. The kings, far from being "the way and the truth," often caused the people to err, being themselves led astray by their idolatries or vices. The priests also did not always " keep knowledge ;" and their priesthood was only a shadow of that of Christ. The prophets always spoke of an obscure futurity ; they scarcely showed the truth but as concealed, and delivered by degrees an imperfect revelation. " God spake by them at sundry times and in divers manners." But Jesus Christ, a king always true, good, and powerful ; an eternal priest, always "able to save to the utter- most them that come unto Grod by Him ;" a Prophet always endued with the Spirit without measure, the original source of light, possess- ing truth of Himself and in His own stores ; was, is, and ever will be, "the way, and the truth, and the life" to all the faithful. The patriarchs had no other. Christ is " the same yesterday, and to-day, and forever." " Abraham saw his day and was glad." The prophets knew no other: "to Him" they all "gave witness, that through His name whosoever believeth in Him, shall receive remis- sion of sins." The Apostles taught no other ; they desired " to know none but Jesus Christ." We need no other ; for " it hath pleased the Father, that in Him should all fullness dwell ; and of His fullness have all we received, and grace for grace." No other can supply our necessities. He Himself declares that "no man Cometh to the Father but by Him." This is to form our second part. II. What the Son of God had asserted in a figurative manner in the first proposition, He expresses more literally in the second. He extends and reasserts it, to the exclusion of every other : I am the only way ; there is no other to go to the Father : I am the only truth ; it can not be found out of Me : I am the only life ; no one can be made a partaker of the life to come, but by Me. You per- ceive at once the universality of the proposition: "No man cometh unto the Father, but by Me :" there is no other way of salvation for the Jew or the Gentile, for the learned or the ignorant. Jesus Christ might be " the way, the truth, and the life ;" yet it might not neces- sarily be concluded that there was no other way : it might be asked, Can not all this be found in others ? Hear His answer : "I am the door : and all that ever came before Me, all that enter not by Me, are thieves and robbers : by Me if any man enter in, he shall be CHRIST THE ONLY WAT OF SALTATION. 131 saved." " I am the light of the world ; he that followeth Me shall not walk in darkness : whosoever belie veth" not "on Me abideth in darkness." " He that gathereth not with Me, scattereth abroad." — " I AM THE WAY :" " without Me ye can do nothing." " I am the TRUTH :" *' every one that is of the truth, heareth My voice." " I AM THE LIFE :" "he that believeth in Me, though he were dead, yet shall he live :" "he that believeth not, shall not see life; he is con- demned already." These declarations both confirm and illustrate the truth contained in our text. But for its further explanation let us observe that " to come to the Father" signifies in general, to have communion with God, to approach Him in the ways of religion, to be united to Him by grace and by glory. "To come to the Father," is to know Him as He chooses to be known, to believe in Him, and to pay Him acceptable services. " To come to the Father," is to be reconciled to God, and in consequence of that reconciliation, to approach Him with confi- dence, by acts of faith, love, and piety. Lastly, "to come to the Father," is to enter into His glory, to partake of His blessedness. " He that cometh to God," says the Apostle, " must believe that He is, and that He is a reward er of them that diligently seek Him." And the solemn words with which Jesus Christ will introduce us into His glory, will be, " Come ye blessed of My Father." So when the Saviour says, "No man cometh unto the Father, but by Me;" He means to exhibit Himself as the only medium by which it is possible to have saving communion with God, either in grace or in glory. In proof of this great and important truth, we remark that Jesus Christ is the only one who has removed the obstacles which on the part of God opposed our reunion to Him. The first obstacle was that of immutable justice and the state into which we had fallen by sin. God is necessarily just, and we were deserving of punishment. God is the supreme Governor of the world and the Preserver of order ; we were violators of order and natural rectitude. How could the Lord leave guilt unpunished, and make a rebellious creature happy; "Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?" It seems to have been the sentiment of all nations, that a sinner must perish, or find some means of appeasing the Divinity, some way of expiating sin, and satisfying the claims of violated Majesty. God also, who can not fortify an error, ap- pears to have confirmed this sentiment by commanding the Israel- ites to offer sacrifices. But what proportion exists between the sac- rifice of animals or even of men, and the majesty of the Supreme 132 DANIEL DE SUPERYILLE. Being offended by a creature ; between tlie blood of slaughtered victims and injury done to the divine laws. Yain are all ablutions, and lustrations ; they could never cleanse our stains. Eeason, nat- ural revelation, the precepts of philosophy, even the religion of Moses, offered nothing sufficient to reconcile us to God, supplied no efficacious way of satisfying Divine justice. Jesus Christ was that way ; He removed this obstacle. " No man cometh unto the Father, but by Him." On this subject the Scriptures teach us three truths. The first is, that our Mediator really satisfied for us, appeased the Divinity, merited our reconciliation. "God was in Christ, reconciling the world unto Himself, not imputing their trespasses unto them." " When we were enemies, we were reconciled to God by the death of His Son." " He is our peace, having made peace through the blood of His cross." Him '' God hath set forth to be a propitiation, through faith in His blood : In whom we have redemption, even the forgiveness of sins." The second truth is that it is only Jesus Christ who has done this, who has satisfied for us. The glory is not divided. He " hath trodden the wine press alone, and of the people there v;as none with Him." " There is one God, and one Mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus. St. Paul clearly proves that " the grace of God is by one man, Jesus Christ;" and that "as b}' the offense of one judgment came upon all men to condemnation, even so by the righteousness of one," by one justi- fying righteousness, "the free gift came upon all men to justifica- tion of life." TLie same Apostle also proves it to be by the '' one sacrifice" of Christ, by His " one offering," that we are jDurified and sanctified, and by His intercession alone that we obtain a place among the saints. Lastly, on this head, the Scripture not only in- forms us that Jesus Christ has satisfied by His death, and that He has made satisfaction alone, but it also assures us that bv no other being could satisfaction ever have been made. I conclude this from the manner in which the Apostles in almost every page extol the great, the infinite mercy of God in sending His Son and giving Him up to die. They never would have held such language if there had been other ways of appeasing Divine justice and effecting the salvation of men ; if what Jesus Christ has done, could have been j^erformed by other mediators. Consider brethren ; there has never been another individual in the world, who was a man without being a sinner; who could discharge the debts of others without being burdened with any debt of His own ; who by His death could offer a sacrifice proportioned to the dignity of the CHRIST THE ONLY WAT OP SALTATION. 133 party offended, and the dignity of whose person could render the punishment of one equivalent to that of many ; who could suffer without perishing and sinking under His sufferings. He, and He only, could transfer to Himself the punishments of others — without injustice to others, because He is independent and Master of Him- self — without injustice to Himself, because He had power to rise again and return from death. From all this you will conclude that " no one cometh to the Father, but by Jesus Christ," because He, and He only, is in fact our Mediator and Surety ; He and He only could reconcile us to God by His death. Come, then, ye authors of other religions, come and plead your claims in opposition to the Author of ours 1 Where were you when He gave His blood for the ransom of the world ? Where were you when He struggled alone with justice, when alone He sustained the strokes of Divine vengeance ? What works have you performed, that we should believe in you? What have you done for man? Your object has been to flatter him, instead of healing his maladies. You have wished to receive every thing from the Deity, and to make Him no return. Where is your sacrifice ? Where is your victim ? Ah ! you are unable to restore to me God whom I have lost by sin : you can not bring me back to God, from whom my heart has been ahenated by fear. The second obstacle which kept us at a distance from God, was our dread of Him and His tremendous justice: but Christ has also removed this obstacle to our approach, this cause of our flight from the Supreme Judge, arising from uncertainty, distrust, and fear. Jesus has given us a certain hope of pardon, has announced it by explicit promises, and shown us the foundations on which it rests. He has banished our distrust and annihilated our fears, by the assur- ance of His ''having made peace by the blood of His cross." He declares that God, instead of being our enemy, is become our friend, that he is willing to readmit us to the enjoyment of His love and all the blessings which that love includes. By these declarations terrified man is encouraged, his conscience is tranquilized, and he approaches God with confidence. Since it is in Jesus Christ and by Him alone, that God reveals Himself propitious to sinners ; since it is He alone that enables us to contemplate the Deity sitting on a throne of grace, to which He gives us access by His merit and in- tercession ; it is certain that " no man cometh to the Father but by Him." The third thing necessary to bring us near to God, was to change our hearts, to make us holy, to detach us from excessive love of the 134 DANIEL DE SUPERYILLE. creatures ; in order, on the one Land, that the holiness of God might not oppose our admission to Ilis communion, and on the other, that our hearts might no longer be alienated from God by propensities to sin. This is a point which false religions had scarcely ever contem- plated, wholly ignorant of the depth of human corruption, or think- ing of it only to flatter it, and forming no just ideas of an All- perfect Being. But Jesus Christ changes the heart of the man whom He deigns to bring to God : He annihilates the moral distance be- tween a holy God and a corrupt heart ; first, by the precepts of His word, and the motives He presents to induce us to love God and despise the world ; secondly, by His example which He proposes to our imitation; thirdly, by His Spirit which mortifies the old man and forms the new man within us. No religion ever delivered pre- cepts on the love of God so certain and complete as His ; no one ever furnished motives so powerful, to excite us to follow its laws : still further have any others been from giving a perfect example for our direction. Jesus Christ alone has been able to impart a mirac- ulous power to gain the hearts ; that Holy Spu-it which draws us to God, and forms the peculiar character of His religion ; that Spirit the fruit of His merit and intercession, which He sent down imme- diately after His ascension to heaven, and without which it is im- possible to please God. This justifies the conclusion that ''no man cometh to the Father, but by Jesus Christ." We proceed to another proof It is only by Jesus Christ that our prayers can be acceptable to God ; He is our only Advocate and In- tercessor with the Father. This is a truth, astonishing to tell I op- posed by multitudes. All Christians acknowledge Jesus Christ to be our only Mediator in redemption ; but the Roman Catholics pre- tend that we may have many mediators in intercession. They main- tain that those intercessors obtain favor for us with God, not only by their prayers, but also by their merits. How then does Jesus afiirm that " no man cometh to the Father but by Him ?" How does St. John say, " If any man sin, we have an Advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous ; and He is the propitiation for our sins?" Why speak of an advocate, if there are many, though different ? His design in that passage is to comfort the faithful who fall into any sin. If the doctrine of Rome were true, would He not say that there are many advocates with God; that beside Jesus Christ who is the principal, there are as many protectors and interces- sors as there are saints both male and female ? On the contrary, St. John exhibits only one source of comfort and confidence, " Jesus Christ the righteous." Here is the foundation of the office He exer- CHRIST THE ONLY WAT OF SALVATION. ^35 cises for -us. He is our advocate, because He is '' the righteous," in- nocent in Himself, and our true righteousness who justifies us, and satisfies on our behalf. The Apostle adds, that " He is the propitia- tion for our sins." His propitiation is the ground of the second act of His priesthood, which is intercession. I remark then, as Jesus Christ alone has made expiation for our crimes, so it is He only, who, having no claims on Himself, is qualified to intercede for us with the Father, in an official character, with authority, and with all needful success. " No man cometh to the Father, but by Him." So many proofs united establish our proposition beyond all doubt. Jesus Christ alone has satisfied for us, and appeased God ; He alone has rendered Deity propitious, accessable, favorable ; He alone possesses the Spirit of grace to communicate to us from His Father ; He alone has taken away our alienations of heart from God ; He alone has appeared in the presence of God and intercedes for us, with justice, authority, and efficacy. "We will add. He alone will come to deliver us from death, as we have already shown you under our first head. "No man cometh to the Father, but by Him." To conclude, let us first pity the erroneous, and fortify our faith against error. Let us pity and mourn over the blind Jew, who stiE seeks salvation in a dead law, and rejects Him who is '' the truth and the life." Let us also deplore the unhappy state of many nations, who, far fi:om our Jesus, the only source of spiritual light and life, are languishing in darkness and in the shadow of death. Let us, above all, detest the impiety of those persons who, under the pre- tence of exalting the goodness of God, assert that salvation may be obtained in all kinds of relig"ions, provided men acknowledge a Su- preme Being. These people seem to have the same notion as Tamer- lane, the famous Conqueror, who is said to have readily tolerated all sects and all diversities of faith, alleging that God resembles a great prince who likes a variety of officers and services. But this is a sentiment unworthy of God, and presents an idea truly ridiculous. He is uniform, simple in His ways. Truth is one, and nothing is more contrary to revelation than these notions. Christians, our beloved is One alone ! Let us never associate with Him any companion, in our worship or in our hearts. Let us love Him exclusively, in preference to every other. " No man cometh unto the Father, but by BLim." None but the High Priest could offer that exquisite perfume, the composition of which is so carefully prescribed. None but the High Priest could enter into the most holy place. Jesus is the true Joseph, of whom alone the 136 DANIEL DE SUPERYILLE. Fatlier hath, said, " Go unto Joseph ; what He saith to yoii, do : without Him shall no man lift up his hand or his foot in all the land." Let us adhere to this great Saviour ! How firmly men attach themselves to a patron of known goodness and established credit, especially when no other can be found capable of affording full pro- tection ! Let us follow Him by practicing His religion and obeying His truth ! Let us not, like the Israelites, grow weary in the way. Be of good courage, Christian travelers ! Let us follow Him who is " the way, and the truth, and the life." '^ He that followeth Him shall not walk in darkness." " He that believeth in Him^ though he were dead, yet shall he hve." Yes, Jesus is " the life." You know it; ye happy spirits, who are exalted to sit with Him on His throne ; and w^e shall one day know it too I We know it already, by faith, and hope ; and soon we shall know it by enjoyment and glory I God gTant us all this grace I Amen. DISCOURSE FIFTY. THIRD. JOHN BAPTIST MASSILLON. The TVTiitefield of the Frencli piilpit, as Massillon has been styled, was born, of obscure parentage, at Hieres, m Provence, in the year 1662. In his studies he bestowed special attention upon sacred eloquence ; and was soon called to preach in the pulpits of Paris, where he attracted the Hvelist admiration, thrilhng his hearers "as by the shocks of a spiritual electricity." In 1718 he was presented with the Bishopric of Clermont, and died on the 28th of SejDtember, 1742. Massillon is one of the " unapproachable triumvirate" of the French pulpit orators. There are those who consider him foremost among them all. Certainly he was excelled by none in many points of lofty, persua- sive eloquence. His style is that of simple elegance combined with wondrous strength and vigor. The peculiarities of his sermonizing are great clearness of thought, perfect sobriety of judgment, tender emo- tions, melting pathos, novelty of illustration, copiousness of language, and unerring taste and skill. When Baron, the great actor, heard him, he said to a companion, "My friend,. here is an orator; as for us, we are but actors." But the best feature of his pulpit productions, was their deep religious spuit, and their earnestness and faithfulness, in dealing with the consciences of his hearers. His discourses are pervaded with that onction^ that mild magic, that tender and affecting manner, that gentle fascination, that endearing simphcity which allures and wins, and renders lovely the rehgion of the blessed Gospel. His eloquence goes right into the soul, and without lacerating it, penetrates, and convinces, and subdues. It was the " Grand Monarch''^ who said to him : " Father, I have heard many great orators in this chajoel, and have been highly pleased with them ; but with you, whenever I hear you, I go away displeased with myself, for I see my own character." Some of MassUlon's sermons have been translated, but it is to be regretted that the rendering was not more fi-ee and graceful. That which is here given is the one most celebrated. When drawing near to the close, and uttering one of his overwhelming sen- tences, the whole congregation started to their feet, and interrupted 138 JOHN BAPTIST MASSILLON. the preacher by their murmurs and exclamations of terror and despair. It is proper to add that while the translation above referred to is the basis of that here given, it has been necessary to recast many of the sen- tences, and greatly modify the general rendering. It is beheved that the sermon, as here given, retains somewhat of the freedom, ease, and vivacity which it bore as it fell from the great orator's Hps. THE SMALL NUMBER OF THE SAVED. " And many lepers were in Israel in the time of Eliseus the prophet ; and none of them was cleansed, saving Naaman the Syrian.'' — Luke, iv. 27. Every day, my brethren, you continue to ask of us, whether the road to heaven is really so difficult, and the number of the saved really so small as we represent ? To a question so often proposed, and still oftener resolved, our Saviour answers you here, that there were many widows in Israel afflicted with famine ; but the widow of Sarepta was alone found worthy the succor of the prophet Elias ; that the number of lepers was great in Israel in the time of the prophet Eliseus ; and that Naaman was only cured by the man of God. "Were I here, my brethren, for the purpose of alarming, rather than instructing you, I had need only to recapitulate what in the holy writings we find dreadful with regard to this great truth ; and, running^ over the history of the just, from age to age, show you that, in all times, the number of the saved has been very small. The family of ISToah alone saved from the general flood ; Abraham chosen fi'om among men to be the sole depositary of the covenant with God ; Joshua and Caleb the only two of six hundred thousand Hebrews who saw the Land of Promise; Job the only upright man in the Land of Uz — Lot, in Sodom. To representations so alarming, would have succeeded the sayings of the prophets. In Isaiah you would see the elect as rare as the grapes which are found after the vintage, and have escaped the search of the gatherer ; as rare as the blades which remain by chance in the field, and have escaped the scythe of the mower. The Evangelist would still have added new traits to the terrors of these images. I might have spoken to you of two roads — of which one is narrow, rugged, and the path of a very small number ; the other broad, open^ and strewed with flowers, and almost the general path of men : that every where, in the holy THE SMALL NUMBER OF THE SAVED. I39 writings, tlie multitude is always spoken of as ^forming the party of the reprobate ; while the saved, compared with the rest of mankind, form only a small flock, scarcely perceptible to the sight. I would have left you in fears with regard to your salvation ; always cruel to those who have not renounced faith and every hope of being among the saved. But what would it serve to limit the fruits of this instruction to the single point of setting forth how few persons will be saved? Alas I I would make the danger kuown, without instructing you how to avoid it ; I would show you, with the prophet,, the sword of the wrath of God suspended over your heads, without assisting you to escape the threatened blow ; I would alarm but not instruct the sinner. My intention is, therefore, to-day, to search for the cause of this small number, in our morals and manner of life. As every one flat- ters himself he will not be excluded, it is of importance to examine if his confidence be well founded. I wish not, in marking to you the causes which render salvation so rare, to make you generally conclude that few will be saved, but to bring you to ask yourselves if, hving as you live, you can hope to be saved. Who am I ? What am I doing for heaven ? And what can be my hopes in eternity ? I propose no other order in a matter of such importance. WLat are the causes which render salvation so rare? I mean to point out three principal causes, which is the only arrangement of this discourse. Art, and far-sought reasonings, would here be ill-timed. attend, therefore, be ye whom ye may ! No subject can be more worthy your attention, since it goes to inform you what may be the hopes of your eternal destiny. Part I. — Few are saved, because in that number we can only comprehend two descriptions of persons : — either those who have been so happy as to preserve their innocence pure and undefiled, or those who, after having lost, have regained it by penitence. This is the first cause. There are only these two ways of salvation : heaven is only open to the innocent or to the penitent. Now, of which party are you ? Are you innocent ? Arc you penitent ? Nothing unclean shall enter the kingdom of God. We must consequently carry there either an iunocence unsullied, or an inno- cence regained. Now to die innocent, is a grace to which few souls can aspire : and to live penitent, is a mercy which the relaxed state of our morals renders equally rare. Who, indeed, will pretend to salvation by the claim of innocence ? Where are the pure souls in whom sin has never dwelt, and who have preserved to the end the 140 JOHN BAPTIST MASSILLON. sacred treasure of grace confided to them by baptism, and wliicli our Saviour will redemand at the awful day of punishment ? In those happy days when the whole Charch was still but an assembly of saints, it was very uncommon to find an instance of a believer, who, after having received the gifts of the Holy Spirit, and acknowledged Jesus Christ in the sacrament which regenerates us, fell back to his former irregularities of life. Ananias and Sapphira, were the only prevaricators in the Church of Jerusalem ; that of Corinth had only one incestuous sinner. Church-penitence was then a remedy almost unknown ; and scarcely was there found among these true Israelites one single leper whom they were obliged to drive from the holy altar, and separate from communion with his brethren. But, since that time the number of the upright diminishes, in proportion as that of believers increases. It would appear that the world, pretending now to have become almost generally Christian, has brought with it into the Church its corruptions and its maxims. Alas ! we all go astray, almost from the breast of our mothers ! The first use which we make of our heart is a crime ; our first desires are passions ; and our reason only expands and increases on the W' recks ef our innocence. The earth, says a prophet, is infected by the corruption of those who inhabit it : all have violated the laws, changed the ordinances, and broken the alliance which should have endured forever : all commit sin, and scarcely is there one to be found who does the work of the Lord. Injustice, calumny, lying, treachery, adultery, and the blackest crimes have deluged the earth. The brother lays snares for his brother ; the father is divided from his children ; the husband from his wife : there is no tie which a vile interest does not sever. Good faith and probity are no longer virtues except among the simple people. Animosities are endless ; reconcil- iations are feints, and never is a former enemy regarded as a brother: they tear, they devour each other. Assemblies are no longer but for the purpose of public and general censure. The purest virtue is no longer a protection from the malignity of tongues. Gaming is become either a trade, a fraud, or a fury. Repasts — those innocent ties of society — degenerate into excesses of which we dare not speak. Our age witnesses horrors with which our forefathers were un- acquainted. Behold, then, already one path of salvation shut to the general- ity of men. All have erred. Be ye whom you may who listen to me now, the time has been when sin reigned over you. Age may perhaps have calmed your passions, but what was your youth? Long and habitual infirmities may perhaps have disgusted you with THE SMALL NUMBER OF THE SAVED. 141 tbe world ; but what use did you formerly make of the vigor of health? A sudden inspiration of grace may have turned your heart, but do you not most fervently entreat that every moment prior to that inspiration may be effaced from the remembrance of the Lord. But with what am I taking up time ? We are all sinners, my God ! and Thou knowest our hearts ! What we know of our errors, is, perhaps, in Thy sight, the most pardonable ; and we all allow, that by innocence we have no claim to salvation. There remains, therefore, only one resource, which is penitence. After our ship- wreck, say the saints, it is the timely plank which alone can conduct ' us into port ; there is no other means of salvation for us. Be ye whom you may, prince or subject, high or low, penitence alone can save you. Now permit me to ask — Where are the penitent ? You will find more, says a holy father, who have never fallen, than who, after their fall, have raised themselves by true repentance. This is a terrible saying ; but do not let us carry things too far : the truth is sufficiently dreadful without adding new terrors to it by vain dec- lamation. Let us only examine as to whether the majority of us have a right, through penitence, to salvation. What is a penitent? Ac- cording to Tertulhan, a penitent is a believer who feels every moment his former unhappiness in forsaking and losing his God. One who has his guilt incessantly before his eyes ; who finds every where the traces and remembrance of it. A penitent is a man intrusted by God with judgment against himself ; one who refuses himself the most innocent pleasures because he had formerly indulged in those the most criminal ; one who puts up with the most necessary gratification with pain ; one who regards his body as an enemy whom it is necessary to conquer- — as an un- clean vessel which must be purified — as an unfaithful debtor of whom it is proper to exact to the last farthing. A penitent regards himself as a criminal condemned to death, because he is no longer worthy of life. In the loss of riches or health, he sees only a withdrawal of favors that he had formerly abused : in the humih- ations which happen to him, only the pains of his guilt : in the ago- nies with which he is racked, only the commencement of those pun- ishments he has justly merited. Such is a penitent. But I again ask you — Where, among us, are penitents of this description ? Now look around you. I do not tell you to judge your brethen, but to examine what are the manners and morals of those who surround you. Nor do I speak of those open and avowed 142 JOHN BAPTIST MASSILLON. sinners who have thrown off even the appearance of virtue. I speak only of those who, like yourselves, live as most live, and whose actions present nothing to the public view particularly shameful or depraved. They are sinners, and they admit it : you are not inno- cent, and you confess it. Now are they penitent? or are you? Age, avocation, more serious employments, may perhaps have checked the sallies of youth. Even the bitterness which the Al- mighty has made attendant on our passions, the deceits, the treach- eries of the world, an injured fortune, with ruined constitution, may have cooled the ardor, and confined the irregular desires of your hearts. Crimes may have disgusted you even with sin itself — for passions gradually extinguish themselves. Time, and the natural inconstancy of the heart will bring these about ; yet, nevertheless, though detached from sin by incapability, you are no nearer your God. According to the world you are become more prudent, more regular, to a greater extent what it calls men of probity, more exact in fulfilling your public or private duties. But you are not penitent. You have ceased from your disorders, but you have not expiated them. You are not converted : this great stroke, this grand operation on the heart, which regenerates man, has not yet been felt by you. Nevertheless, this situation, so truly dangerous, does not alarm you. Sins which have never been washed away by sincere repentance, and consequently never obliterated from the book of life, appear in your eyes as no longer existing ; and you will tranquilly leave this world in a state of impenitence, so much the more dangerous as you will die Avithout being sensible of your danger. What I say here, is not merely a rash expression, or an emotion of zeal ; nothing is more real, or more exactly true : it is the situa- ation of almost all men, even the wisest and most esteemed of the world. The morality of the younger stages of life is always lax, if not licentious. Age, disgust, and establishment for life, fix the heart, and withdraw it from debauchery : but where are those who are converted ? Where are those who expiate their crimes by tears of sorrow and true repentance? Where are those who, having begun as sinners, end as penitents ? Show me, in your manner of living, the smallest trace of penitence ! Are your graspings at wealth and power, your anxieties to attain the favor of the great (and by these means an increase of emj)loyments and influence) — are these proofs of it ? Would you wish to reckon even your crimes as vir- tues? — that the sufferings of your ambition, pride, and avarice, should discharge you from an obligation which they themselves have im- posed ? You are penitent to the world, but are you so to Jesus THE SMALL NUMBER OP THE SAVED. I43 Christ ? The infirmities with which God afflicts you, the enemies He raised up against you, the disgraces and losses with which He tries you — do you receive them all as you ought, with humble sub- mission to His will ? or, rather, far from finding in them occasions of penitence, do you not turn them into the objects of new crimes ? It is the duty of an innocent soul to receive with submission the chastisements of the Almighty; to discharge, with courage, the painful duties of the station allotted to him, and to be faithful to the laws of the Gospel — ^but do sinners owe nothing beyond this ? And yet they pretend to salvation ! Upon what claim ? To say that you are innocent before God, your own consciences will witness against you. To endeavor to persuade yourselves that you are penitent, you dare not ; and you would condemn yourselves by your own mouths. Upon whatj then, dost thou depend, man ! who thus livest so tranquil ? And what renders it still more dreadful is that, acting in this manner you only follow the current ; your morals are the morals of well-nigh all men. You may, perhaps, be acquainted with some still more guilty (for I suppose you to have still remaining some sentiments of religion, and regard for your salvation), but do you know any real penitents ? I am afraid we must search the deserts and solitudes for them. You possibly may mention, among jDcrsons of rank and worldly custom, a small number whose morals and mode of life, more austere and guarded than the generality, attract the attention, and very likely the censure of the public. But all the rest walk in the uniform path. I see clearly that every one comforts himself by the example of his neighbor : that, in that point, children succeed to the false security of their fathers ; that none live innocent, that none die penitent : I see it, and I cry, God ! if Thou hast not deceived us ; if all Thou hast told us with regard to the road to eter- nal life shall be strictly fulfilled, if the number of those who must perish shall not influence Thee to abate from the severity of Thy laws — what will become of that immense multitude of creatures which every hour disappears from the face of the earth ? Where are our friends, our relations who have gone before us? and what is their lot in the eternal regions of the dead ? What shall w^e ourselves become ? When formerly a prophet complained to the Lord that all Israel had forsaken His protection. He replied that seven thousand still remained who had not bowed the knee to Baal. Behold the num- ber of pure and faithful souls which a whole kingdom then con- tained I But couldst Thou still, 0, my God I comfort the anguish 144 JOHN BAPTIST MASSILLON. of Thy servants to-day by the same assurance ! I know that Thine eye discerns still sorae upright among us ; that the priesthood has still its Phineases ; the magistracy its Samuels ; the sword its Josh- uas ; the court its Daniels, its Esthers, and its Davids : for the world only exists for Thy chosen, and all would perish were the number accomplished. But those happy remnants of the children of Israel who shall inherit salvation — what are they, compared to the grains of sand in the sea ; I mean, to that number of sinners who fight for their own destruction ? Come you after this, my brethren, to in- quire if it be true that few shall be saved? Thou hast said it, 0, my God ! and hence it is a truth which shall endure forever. But, even admitting that the Almighty had not spoken thus, I would uish, in the second place, to review, for an instant, what passes among men : — the laws by which they are governed ; the maxims by which the multitude is regulated: this is the second cause of the paucity of the saved ; and, properly speaking, is only a development of the first — the force of habit and customs. Paet II. — Few people are saved, because the maxims most universally received in all countries, and upon which depend, in general, the morals of the multitude, are incompatible with salva- tion. The rules laid down, approved, and authorized by the world with regard to the apjDlication of wealth, the love of glory, Chris- tian moderation, and the duties of offices and conditions, are directly opposed to those of the evangelists, and consequently can lead only to death. I shall not, at present, enter into a detail too extended for a discourse, and too little serious, perhaps, for Christians. I need not tell you that this is an established custom in the world, to allow the liberty of proportioning expenses to rank and wealth ; and, provided it is a patrimony we inherit from our ances- tors, we may distinguish ourselves by the use of it, without restraint to our luxury, or without regard, in our profusion, to any thing but our pride and caprice. But Christian moderation has its rules. We are not the absolute masters of our riches ; nor are we entitled to abuse what the Al- mighty has bestowed upon us for better purposes. Above all, while thousands of unfoi tanate wretches languish in poverty, whatever we make use of bej-ond the wants and necessary expenses of our sta- tion, is an inhumanity and a theft from the poor. " These are refinements of devotion," they say. "And, in matters of expense and profusion, nothing is excessive or blamable, according to the world, but what may tend to derange the fortune." I need not tell THE SMALL NUMBER OF THE SAVED. 145 you that it is an approved custom to decide our lots, and to regu- late our choice of professions or situations in life, by the order of our birth, or the interests of fortune. But, my God I does the ministry of Thy Gospel derive its source from the worldly consid- erations of a carnal birth ? *' We can not fix every thing," says the world, " and it would be melancholy to see persons of rank and birth in avocations unworthy of their dignity. K born to a name distin- guished in the world, you must get forward by dint of intrigue, meanness, and expense : make fortune your idol : that ambition, however much condemned by the laws of the Gospel, is only a sen- timent worthy your name and birth : you are of a sex and rank which introduce you to the gayeties of the world : you can not but do as others do : you must frequent all the public places, where those of your age and rank assemble : enter into the same pleas- ures : pass your days in the same frivolities, and expose yourself to the same dangers : these are the received maxims, and you are not made to reform them." Such is the doctrine of the world I Now, permit me to ask you here, who confirms you in these ways ? By what rule are they justified to your mind ? Who au- thorizes you in this dissipation, which is neither agreeable to the title you have received by baptism, nor perhaps to those you hold from your ancestors ? Who authorizes those public pleasures, which you only think innocent because your soul, already too famil- iarized with sin, feels no longer the dangerous impressions or tend- ency of them ? Who authorizes you to lead an effeminate and sen- sual life, without virtue, sufferance, or any religious exercise? — to live like a stranger in the midst of your own family, disdaining to inform yourself with regard to the morals of those dependent upon you ? — through an affected state, to be ignorant whether they be- lieve in the same God ; whether they fulfill the duties of the relig- ion you profess? Who authorizes you in maxims so little Christian? Is it the Gospel of Jesus Christ ? Is it the doctrine of the Apostles. and saints ? For surely some rule is necessary to assure us that we are in safety. What is yours? '* Custom:'''' that is the only reply you can make ! *' We see none around us but what conduct them- selves in the same way, and by the same rule. Entering into the world, we find the manners already established : our fathers lived thus, and from them we copy our customs : the wisest conform to them : an individual can not be wiser than the whole world, and must not pretend to make himself singular, by acting contrary to the general voice." Such, my brethren, are your only comforters against aU the terrors of religion ! None act up to the law. The 10 146 JOHN BAPTIST MASSILLON. public example is the only guaranty of our morals. We never reflect that, as the Holy Spirit says, the laws of the people are vain : that our Saviour has left us rules, in which neither times, ages, nor customs, can ever authorize the smallest change : that the heavens and the earth shall pass away, that customs and manners shall change, but that the Divine laws will everlastingly be the same. We content ourselves with looking around us. We do not re- flect that what, at present, we call custom^ would, in former times, before the morals of Christians became degenerated, have been re- garded as monstrous singularities ; and, if corruption has gained since that period, these vices, though they have lost their singular- ity, have not lost their guilt. We do not reflect that we shall be judged by the Gospel, and not by custom ; by the examples of the holy, and not by men's opinions ; — that the habits, which are only established among believers by the relaxation of faith, are abuses we are to lament, not examples we are to follow ; — that, in chang- ing the manners, they have not changed our duties ; — that the com- mon and general example w^hich authorizes them, only proves that virtue is rare, but not that profligacy is permitted ; — in a word, that piety and a real Christian life are too repulsive to our depraved na- ture ever to be practiced by the majority of men. Come now, and say that you only do as others do. It is exactly by that you condemn yourselves. What ! the most terrible cer- tainty of your condemnation shall become the only motive for your confidence I Which, according to the Scriptures, is the road that conducts to death? Is it not that which the majority pursue? Which is the jDarty of the reprobate? Is it not the multitude? You do nothing but what others do ! But thus, in the time of Noah, perished all who were buried under the waters of the deluge : all who, in the time of Nebuchadnezzar, prostrated themselves before the golden calf: all who, in the time of Elijah, bowed the knee to Baal ; all who, in the time of Eleazer, abandoned the law of their fathers. You only do what others do I But that is precisely what the Scriptures forbid. '* Do not," say they, " conform yourselves to this corrupted age." Now, the corrupted age means not the small number of the just, whom you endeavor not to imitate ; it means the multitude whom you follow. You only do what others do! You will consequently experience the same lot. ^' Misery to thee" (cried formerly St. Augustine), " fatal torrent of human customs! Wilt thou never suspend thy course ! Wilt thou, to the end, draw the children of Adam into thine immense and terrible abyss!" In place of saying to ourselves, '' What are my hopes? In the THE SMALL NUMBER OE THE SAYED. I47 Churcli of Jesus Christ there are two roads ; one broad and open, by which almost the whole world passes, and which leads to death ; the other narrow, where few indeed enter, and which conducts to life eternal ; in which of these am I ? Are my morals those which are common to persons of my rank, age, and situation in life ? Am I with the great number ? Then I am not in the right path. I am losing myself The great number in every station is not the party saved" not far from reasoning in ^Ai5 manner, we say to ourselves, *'I am not in a worse state than others ! Those of my rank and age live as I do 1 Why should I not live like them ?" TTAy, my dear hear- ers ? For that very reason ! The general mode of living can not be that of a Christian life. In all ages, the holy have been remark- able and singular men. Their manners were always different from those of the world ; and they have only been saints because their lives had no similarity to those of the rest of mankind. In the time of Esdras, in spite of the defense against it, the custom pre- vailed of intermarrying with strange women : this abuse became general : the priests and the people no longer made any scruple of it. But what did this holy restorer of the law ? Did he follow the example of his brethren ? Did he believe that guilt, in becoming general, became more legitimate ? ISTo : he recalled the people to a sense of the abuse. He took the book of the law in his hand, and explained it to the affrighted people — corrected the custom by the truth. Follow, from age to age, the history of the just ; and see if Lot conformed himself to the habits of Sodom, or if nothing distin- guished him from the other inhabitants ; if Abraham lived like the rest of his age ; if Job resembled the other princes of his nation ; if Esther conducted herself, in the court of Ahasuerus like the other women of that prince ; if many widows in Israel resembled Judith ; if, among the children of the captivity, it is not said of To- bias alone that he copied not the conduct of his brethren, and that he even fled from the danger of their commerce and society. See, if in those happy ages, when Christians were all saints, they did not shine like stars in the midst of the corrupted nations ; and if they served not as a spectacle to angels and men, by the singularity of their lives and manners. If the pagans did not reproach them for their retirement, and shunning of all public theaters, places, and pleasures. If they did not complain that the Christians affected to distinguish themselves in every thing from their fellow-citizens ; to form a separate people in the midst of the people ; to have their particular laws and customs ; and if a man from their side embraced 148 JOHN BAPTIST MASSILLON. the party of the Christians, they did not consider him as forever lost to their pleasures, assemblies, and customs. In a word, see, if in all ages the saints whose lives and actions have been transmitted down to us, have resembled the rest of mankind. You will perhaps tell us that all these are singularities and ex- ceptions, rather than rules which the world is obliged to follow. They are exceptions, it is true : but the reason is, that the general rule is to reject salvation ; that a religious and pious soul in the midst of the world is always a singularity approaching to a miracle. The whole world, you say, is not obliged to follow these examples. But is not piety alike the duty of all ? To be saved, must we not be holy ? Must heaven, with difficulty and sufferance, be gained by some, and by others with ease ? Have you any other Gospel to fol- low ? Any other duties to fulfill ? Any other promises to hope for, than those of the Holy Bible ? Ah I since there was another way more easy to arrive at salvation, wherefore — ye pious Christians, who at this moment enjoy the kingdom gained with toil, and at the expense of your blood — did ye leave us examples so dangerous and vain ? Wherefore have ye opened for us a road, rugged, disagree- able, and calculated to repress our ardor, seeing there was another you could have pointed out more easy, and more likely to attract us, by facilitating our progress ? Great God ! how little does man- kind consult reason in the point of eternal salvation ! Will you console yourselves, after this, with the multitude^ as if the greatness of the number could render the guilt unpunished, and the Almighty durst not condemn all those who live like you ? What are all creatures in the sight of God ? Did the multitude of the guilty prevent Him from destroying all flesh at the deluge ? from making fire from heaven descend upon the ^Ye iniquitous cities ? from burying, in the waters of the Ked Sea, Pharaoh and all his army ? from striking with death all who murmured in the desert ? Ah ! the kings of the earth may reckon upon the number of the guilty, because the punishment becomes impossible, or at least diffi- cult, when the fault is become general. But God, who, as Job says, wipes the impious from oft' the face of the earth, as one wipes the dust from off a garment — God, in whose sight all people and nations are as if they were not — numbers not the guilty. He has regard only to the crimes ; and all that the weak and miserable sinner can expect from his unhappy accomplices, is to have them as companions in his misery. So few are saved, because the maxims most universally adopted are maxims of sin. So few are saved, because the maxims and duties THE SMALL NUMBER OP THE SAVED. I49 most "aniversally unknown, or rejected, are tliose most indispensable to salvation. This is tlie last reflection, whicli is indeed notliiog more tlian the proof and the development of the former ones. "What are the engagements of the holy vocation to which we have all been called? The solemn promises of baptism. What have we promised at baptism ? To renounce the world, the devil, and the flesh. These are our vows. This is the situation of the Christian. These are the essential conditions of our covenant with God, by which eternal life has been promised to us. These truths appear familiar, and destined for the common people ; but it is a mistake. Nothing can be more sublime ; and, alas ! nothing is more generally imknown ! It is in the courts of kings, and to the princes of the earth, that without ceasing we ought to announce them. Alas ! they are well instructed in all the affairs of the world, while the first principles of Christian morality are frequently more unknown to them than to humble and simple hearts I At your baptism, then, you have renounced the world. It is a promise you have made to God, before the holy altar ; the Church has been the guarantee and depository of it ; and you have only been admitted into the number of believers, and marked with the indefeasible seal of salvation, upon the faith that you have sworn to the Lord, to love neither the world, nor what the world loves. Had you then answered, what you now repeat every day, that you find not the world so black and pernicious as we say ; that, after all, it may innocently be loved ; and that we only decry it so much be- cause we do not know it ; and since you are to live in the world you wish to hve like those who are in it — had you answered thus, the Church would not have received you into its bosom ; would not have connected you with the hope of Christians, nor joined you in com- munion with those who have overcome the world. She would have advised you to go and live with those unbelievers who know not our Saviour. For this reason it was, that in former ages, those of the Catechumen, who could not prevail upon themselves to renounce the world and its pleasures, put off their baptism till death ; and durst not approach the holy altar, to contract, by the sacrament, which regenerates us, engagements of which they knew the import- ance and sanctity ; and to folfill which they felt themselves still un- qualified. You are therefore required, by the most sacred of all vows, to hate the world ; that is to say, not to conform yourselves to it. If you love it, if you follow its pleasures and customs, you are not only, as St. John says, the enemy of God, but you likewise renounce 150 JOHN BAPTIST MASSILLON. the faith given in baptism; you abjure the Gospel of Jesus Christ ; you are an apostate from religion, and trample under foot the most sacred and irrevocable vows that man can make. Now, what is this world which you ought to hate ? I have only to answer that it is the one you love. You will never mistake it by this mark. This world is a society of sinners, whose desires, fears, hopes, cares, projects, joys, and chagrins, no longer turn but "upon the successes or misfortunes of this life. This world is an as- semblage of people who look upon the earth as their country ; the time to come as an exilement ; the promises of faith as a dream ; and death as the greatest of all misfortunes. This world is a tem- poral kingdom, where our Saviour is unknown ; where those ac- quainted with His name, glorify Him not as their Lord, hate His maxims, despise His followers, and neglect or insult Him in His sac- raments and worship. In a word, to give a proper idea at once of this world, it is the vast multitude. Behold the world which you ought to shun, hate, and war against by your example ! Now, is this your situation in regard to the world? Are its pleasures a fatigue to you? Do its excesses afflict yon? Do you regret the length of your pilgrimage here ? Or on the contrary, are not its laws your laws; its maxims your maxims? What it con- demns, do you not condemn ? What it approves do you not ap- prove ? And should it happen, that you alone were left "ujDon the earth, may we not say that the corrupt world would be revived in you ; and that you would leave an exact model of it to your j)os- terity ? When I say you, I mean, and I address myself to almost all men. Where are those who sincerely renounce the pleasures, habits, maxims, and hopes of this world ? We find many who complain of it, and accuse it of injustice, ingTatitude, and caprice ; who speak warmly of its abuses and errors. But in decrying, they continue to love and follow it; they can not bring themselves to do without it. In complaining of its injustice, they are only piqued at it, they are not undeceived. They feel its hard treatment, but they are un- acquainted with its dangers. They censure, but where are those who hate it? And now my brethren, you may judge if many can have a claim to salvation. In the second place, you have renounced the flesh at your baptism : that is to say, you are engaged not to live according to the sensual appetites ; to regard even indolence and effeminacy as crimes ; not to flatter the corrupt desires of the flesh ; but to chastise, crush, and crucify it. This is not an acquired perfection; it is a vow : it is the THE SMALL NUMBER OF THE SAVED. I51 first of all duties ; the character of a true Christian and inseparable from faith. In a word, you have anathematized Satan and all his works. And what are his works ? That which composes almost the thread and end of your life; pomp, pleasure, luxury, and dissipa- tion ; lying, of which he is the father ; pride, of which he is the model ; jealousy and contrition, of which he is the artisan. But I ask you, where are those who have not withdrawn the anathema they had pronounced against Satan ? Now, consequently (to mention it as we go along), behold many of the questions an- swered! You continually demand of us, if theaters, and other public places of amusement, be innocent recreations for Christians ? In return, I have only one question to ask you : Are they the works of Satan or of Jesus Christ ? for there can be no medium in religion. I do not mean to say that there are not many recreations and amuse- ments which may be termed indifferent. But the most indifferent pleasm-es which religion allows, and which the weakness of our na- ture renders even necessary, belong, in one sense, to Jesus Christ, by the facility with which they ought to enable us to apply ourselves to more holy and more serious duties. Every thing we do, every thing we rejoice or weep at, ought to be of such a nature as to have a connection with Jesus Christ, and to be done for his glory. Now, upon this principle — the most incontestable, and most uni- versally allowed in Christian morality — you have only to decide whether you can connect the glory of Jesus Christ with the pleasures of a theater. Can our Saviour have any part in such a species of recreation ? And before you enter them, can you, with confidence, declare to Him that, in so doing, you only propose His glory, and to enjoy the satisfaction of pleasing Him! What! the theaters, such as they are at present, still more criminal by the public licen- tiousness of those unfortunate creatures who appear on them than by the impure and passionate scenes they represent — the theaters works of Jesus Christ ! Jesus Christ would animate a mouth, fi:om whence are to proceed lacivious words, adapted to corrupt the heart ! But these blasphemies strike me with horror. Jesus Christ would preside in assemblies of sin, where every thing we hear weakens His doctrines ! where the poison enters into the soul through all the senses! where every art is employed to inspire, awaken, and justify the passions He condemns ! Now, says Tertullian, if they are not the works of Jesus Christ, they must be the works of Satan. Every Christian, therefore, ought to abstain from them. "When he partakes of them, he violates the vows of baptism. However innocent he may flatter himself to be, in bringing from these places an untainted 152 JOHN BAPTIST MASSILLON. heart, it is sullied by being tliere ; since by bis presence alone he has participated in the works of Satan, which he had renounced at bap- tism, and violated the most sacred promises he had made to Jesus Christ and to His Church. These, my brethren, as I have already told you, are not merely advices and pious arts ; they are the most essential of our obligations. But, alas ! who fulfills them ? Who even knows them ? Ah I my brethren, did you know how far the title you bear, of Christian, engages you ; could you comprehend the sanctity of your state ; the hatred of the world, of yourself, and of every thing which is not of God, that it enjoins that Gospel life, that constant watching, that guard over the passions, in a word, that conformity with Jesus Christ cru- cified, which it exacts of you — could you comprehend it, could you remember that as you ought to love God with all your heart, and all your strength, a single desire that has not connection with Him de- files you — you would appear a monster in your own sight. How ! you would exclaim. Duties so holy, and morals so profane ! A vigilance so continual, and a life so careless and dissipated ! A love of God so pure, so complete, so universal, and a heart the continual prey of a thousand impulses, either foreign or criminal ! If thus it is, who, my God I will be entitled to salvation ? Few indeed, I fear, my dear hearers ! At least it will not be you (unless a change takes place), nor those who resemble you ; it will not be the multi- tude ! Who shall be saved ? Those who work out their salvation with fear and trembling ; who live in the world without indulging in its vices. Who shall be saved ? That Christian woman, who, shut up in the circle of her domestic duties, rears up her children in faith and in piety ; divides her heart only between her Saviour and her hus- band; is adorned with delicacy and modesty; sits not down in the assemblies of vanity ; makes not a law of the ridiculous customs of the world, but regulates those customs by the law of God ; and makes virtue appear more amiable by her rank and her example. Who shall be saved ? That believer, who, in the relaxation of modern times, imitates the manners of the first Christians — whose hands are clean, and his heart pure — who is watchful — who hath not lift up his soul to vanity — ^but who, in the midst of the dangers of the great world, continually applies himself to purify it; just — who swears not de- ceitfully against his neighbor, nor is indebted to fraudulent ways for the innocent aggrandizement of his fortune ; generous — who with benefits repays the enemy who sought his ruin ; sincere — who sacri- fices not the truth to a vile interest, and knows not the part of render- THE SMALL NUMBER OF THE SAVED. I53 ing himself agreeable, by betraying bis conscience ; charitable — who makes his house and interest the refuge of his fellow-creatures, and himself the consolation of the afflicted ; regards his wealth as the property of the poor; humble in affliction — a Christian under in- juries, and penitent even in prosperity. Who will merit salvation ? You, my dear hearer, if you will follow these examples ; for such are the souls to be saved. Now these assuredly do not form the greatest number. While you continue, therefore, to live like the multitude, it is a striking proof that you disregard your salvation. These, my brethren, are truths which should make us tremble ! nor are they those vague ones which are told to all men, and which none apply to themselves. Perhaps there is not in this assembly an individual who may not say of himself, " I live like the great number ; hke those of my rank, age, and situation ; I am lost, should I die in this path." Now, can any thing be more capable of alarming a soul, in whom some remains of care for his salvation still exist? It is the multitude, nevertheless, who tremble not. There is only a small number of the just who work out severally their salvation, with fear And trembling. All the rest are tranquil. After having lived with the multitude, they flatter themselves they shall be particularized at death. Every one augurs favorably for himself, and vainly imagines that he shall be an exception. On this account it is, my brethren, that I confine myself to you who are now here assembled. I include not the rest of men ; but consider you as alone existing on the earth. The idea which fills and terrifies me, is this — I figure to myself the present as your last hour, and the end of the world ! the heavens opening above your heads — the Saviour, in all His glory, about to appear in the midst of His temple — ^you only assembled here as trembling criminals, to wait His coming, and hear the sentence, either of life eternal, or everlasting death ! for it is vain to flatter yourselves that you shall die more in- nocent than you are at this hour. All those desires of change with which you are amused, will continue to amuse you till death arrives. The experience of all ages proves it. The only difference you have to expect, will most likely be only a larger balance against you than what you would have to answer for now ; and from what would be your destiny, were you to be judged this moment, you may almost decide upon what it will be at death. Now, I ask you — and, con- necting ray own lot with yours, I ask it with dread — were Jesus Christ to appear in this temple, in the midst of this assembly, to judge us, to make the awful separation between the sheep and the goats, do you believe that the most of us would be placed at 154 JOHN BAPTIST MASSILLON. His right hand ? Do you believe that the number would at least be equal ? Do you believe that there would even be found ten upright and faithful servants of the Lord, when formerly five cities could not furnish that number ? I ask you ! You know not ! I know it not ! Thou alone, my God I knowest who belong to Thee. But if we know not who belong to Him, at least we know that sinners do not. Now, who are the just and faithful assembled here at present ? Titles and dignities avail nothing ; you are stripped of all these in the presence of your Saviour I Who are they ? Many sinners who wish not to be converted ; many more who wish, but always put it off; many others who are only converted in appear- ance, and again fall back to their former course ; in a word, a great number, who flatter themselves they have no occasion for conver- sion. This is the party of the reprobate ! Ah ! my brethren, cut off from this assembly these four classes of sinners, for they will be cut off at the great day 1 And now stand forth ye righteous : — where are ye ? God I where are Thine elect ! What remains as Thy portion I My brethren, our ruin is almost certain ! Yet we think not of it ! If in this terrible separation, which will one day take place, there should be but one sinner in the assembly on the side of the repro- bate, and a voice from heaven should assure us of it, without particular- izing him, who of us would not tremble, lest he should be the unfor- tunate and devoted wretch ? Who of us would not immediately apply to his conscience, to examine if its crimes merited not this punishment ? Who of us, seized with dread, would not demand of our Saviour, as did the Apostles, crying out, "Lord, is it I?" And should a small respite be allowed to our prayers, who of us would not use every effort, by tears, supplication, and sincere repentance, to avert the misfortune? Are we in our senses, my dear hearers? Perhaps among all who listen to me now, ten righteous ones would not be found. It may be fewer still. What do I perceive, my God I I dare not, with a fixed eye, regard the depths of Thy judgments and justice! Not more than one^ perhaps, would be found among us all ! And this danger affects you not, my dear hearer I You persuade your- self that in this great number who shall perish, you will be the happy individual! You, who have less reason, perhaps, than any other to believe it ! You, upon whom alone the sentence of death should fall, were only one of all who hear me to suffer ! Great God 1 how little are the terrors of Thy law known to the world ? In all ages, the just have shuddered with dread, in reflecting on the severity THE SMALL NUMBER OP THE SAYED. 155 and extent of Thy judgments, touching the destinies of men I Alas ! what are they laying up in store for the sons of men ! But what are we to conclude from these awful truths ? That all must despair of salvation? God forbid I The impious alone, to quiet his own feelings in his debaucheries, endeavors to persuade himself that all men shall perish as well as he. This idea ought not to be the fruit of the present discourse. It is intended to undeceive you with regard to the general error, that any one may do whatever is done by others. To convince you that, in order to merit salvation, you must distinguish yourself from the rest ; that in the midst of the world you are to live for God's glory, and not follow after the multi- tude. When the Jews were led in captivity from Judea to Babylon, a little before they quitted their own country, the prophet Jeremiah, whom the Lord had forbid to leave Jerusalem, spoke thus to them : '^ Children of Israel, when you shall arrive at Babylon, you will be- hold the inhabitants of that country, who carry upon their shoulders gods of silver and gold. All the people will prostrate themselves, and adore them. But you, far from allowing yourselves, by these examples, to be led to impiety, say to yourselves in secret, It is Thou, Lord ! whom we ought to adore." Let me now finish, by addressing to you the same words. At your departure from this temple, you go to enter into another Babylon. You go to see idols of gold and silver, before which all men prostrate themselves. You go to regain the vain objects of human passions, wealth, glory, and pleasure, which are the gods. of this world, and which almost all men adore. You will see those abuses which all the world permits, those errors which custom authorizes, and those debaucheries, which an infamous fashion has almost constituted as laws. Then, my dear hearer, if you wish to be of the small number of true Israelites, say, in the secrecy of your heart, '' It is Thou alone, my God ! whom we ought to adore. I wish not to have connection with a people which know Thee not ; I will have no other law than Thy holy law ; the gods which this foohsh multitude adores, are not gods : they are the work of the hands of men ; they will perish with them : Thou alone, my God I are immortal ; and Thou alone deservest to be adored. The cus- toms of Babylon have no connection with the holy laws of Jerusa- lem. I will continue to worship Thee with that small number of the children of Abraham which still, in the midst of an infidel nation, composes Thy people ; with them I will turn all my desires toward the holy Zion. The singularity of my manners will be regarded as 156 JOHN BAPTIST MASSILLON. a weakness ; but blessed weakness, my God ! wbicb will give me strength to resist the torrent of customs, and the seduction of exam- ple. Thou wilt be my God in the midst of Babylon, as Thou wilt one day be in Jerusalem above!" " Ah ! the time of the captivity will at last expire. Thou wilt call to Thy remembrance Abraham and David. Thou wilt dehver Thy people. Thou wilt transport us to the holy city. Then wilt Thou alone reign over Israel, and over the nations which at present know Thee not. All being destroyed, all the empires of the earth, all the monuments of human pride annihilated, and Thou alone re- maining eternal, we then shall know that Thou art the Lord of hosts, and the only God to be adored ! Behold the fruit which you ought to reap from this discourse ! Live apart. Think, without ceasing, that the great number work their own destruction. Eegard as nothing all customs of the earth, unless authorized by the law of God, and remember that holy men in all ages have been looked upon as a peculiar people. It is thus that, after distinguishing yourselves from the sinful on earth, you will be gloriously distinguished from them in eternity I Now, to God the Father, etc. DISCOURSE FIFTY.FOURTH. JAMES SAURIN. This eminent Protestant divine was bom at Nismes, in the year 1677, and went witli his pious father into exile, to Geneva, after the rei^eal of the Edict of Nantes. When seventeen years of age he left his studies and became a cadet in the army ; but in a few years he re- turned to the study of Philosophy and Divinity ; and in the year 1 705 was chosen pastor at the Hague, where he acquired great celebrity as a preacher, and where, also, his career was terminated by death in the year 1730. Saurin possessed vast intellectual powers, and an imagination that has rarely been equaled. He was less artificial, and more careless and inelegant, than the three great CathoUc preachers, but not less efiective. It has been said that his utterances were like torrents of fire, and their immediate influence often equal to their character. His sermons were published in twelve volumes ; and the Rev. Robert Robinson, by trans- lating a large number of them into Engfish (pubhshed in England in six volumes, in this country in two), immortalized his own name and that of the preacher whom he so fairly and gracefully introduced to English readers. Perhaps no translation ever retained more faithfully the spirit of the original. Indeed the sermons have lost nothing by a change of language. Saurin will always be read for his weighty doc- trinal instruction, and his pure, unaffected, and eloquent style. A dis- tinguished Theological Professor has pronounced the discourse which foUows Sauiin's masterpiece, and, in point of structure and composi- tion, equal to almost any sermon in any language. THE NATURE AND CONTROL OF THE PASSIONS. *' Dearly beloved, I beseech you as strangers and pilgrims, abstain from fleshly lusts, which war against the souL" — 1 Peter, ii. 1. The words you have heard, my brethren, offer four subjects of meditation to your minds. First, the nature of the passions — sec- 258 JAMES SAURIN. ondlj, the disorders of them — thirdly, the remedies to be applied — and lastly, the motives that engage us to subdue them. In the first place we will give you a general idea of what the Apostle calls ''fleshly lusts," or, in modern style, the passions. We will examine secondly, the war which they wage " against the soul." Our third part will inform you of the means of abstaining from these fleshly lusts. And in the last place we will endeavor to make you feel the power of this motive, "as strangers and pilgrims," and to press home this exhortation of the Apostle, "Dearly beloved, I beseech you as strangers and pilgrims, abstain from fleshly lusts, which war against the soul." I. In order to understand the nature of the passions, we will explain the subject by a few preliminary remarks. 1. An intelligent being ought to love every thing that can ele- vate, perpetuate, and make him happy ; and to avoid whatever can degrade, confine, and render him miserable. This, far from being a human depravity, is a perfection of nature. Man has it in common with celestial intelligences, and with God Himself This reflection removes a false sense, which the language of St. Peter may seem at first to convey, as if the Apostle meant by eradicating " fleshly lusts" to destroy the true interests of man. The most ancient enemies of the Christian religion loaded it with this reproach, because they did not understand it ; and some superficial people, who know no more of religion than the surface, pretended to render it odious by the same means. Under pretense that the Christian religion forbids ambition, they say it degrades man, and under pretense that it forbids mis- guided self-love, they say it makes man miserable. A gross error ! A false idea of Christianity ! If the Gospel humbles, it is to elevate us ; if it forbids a self-love ill- directed, it is in order to conduct us to substantial happiness. By " fleshly lusts," St. Peter does not mean such desires of the heart as put us on aspiring after real happiness and true glory. 2. An inteUigent being united to a body, and lodged, if I may speak so, in a portion of matter under this law, that according to the divers motions of this matter he shall receive sensations of pleas- ure or pain, must naturally love to excite within himself sensations of pleasure, and to avoid painful feelings. This is agreeable to the institution of the Creator. He intends, for reasons of adorable wis- dom, to preserve a society of mankind for several ages on earth. To accomplish this design, He has so ordered it that what contrib- utes to the support of the body shall give the soul pleasure and that which would dissolve it would give pain, so that by these means THE NATURE AND CONTEOL OF THE PASSIONS. 159 we may preserve ourselves. Aliments are agreeable ; the dissolu- tion of tlie parts of our bodies is painful ; love, hatred, and anger, properly understood, and exercised to a certain degree, are natural and fit. The Stoics, who annihilated the passions, did not know man, and the schoolmen, who to comfort people under the gout or the stone, told them that a rational man ought not to pay any regard to what passed in his body, never made many disciples among wise men. This observation affords us a second clew to the meaning of the Apostle : at least it gives us a second precaution to avoid an error. By " fleshly lusts" he does not mean a natural inclination to preserve the body and the ease of life ; he allows love, hatred, and anger, to a certain degree, and as far as the exercise of them does not prejudice a greater interest. Observe well this last expression, as far as may be without prejudice to a greater interest. The truth of our second reflection depends on this restriction. 8. A being composed of two substances, one of which is more excellent than the other ; a being placed between two interests, one of which is greater than the other, ought, when these two interests clash, to prefer the more noble before the less noble, the greater in- terest before the less. This third principle is a third clew to what St. Peter calls "lusts," or passions. Man has two substances, and two interests. As far as he can without prejudicing his eternal in- terest he ought to endeavor to promote his temporal interest : but when the two clash he ought to sacrifice the less to the greater. *' Fleshly lusts" is put for what is irregular and depraved in our de- sires, and what makes us prefer the body before the soul, a temporal before an eternal interest. That this is the meaning of the Apostle is clear from his calling these passions or ''lusts fleshly." What is the meaning of this word ? The Scripture generally uses the word in two senses. Sometimes it is literally and properly put for flesh, and sometimes it signifies sin. * St. Peter calls the passions '' fleshly" in both these senses ; in the first, because some come from the body, as voluptuousness, anger, drunkenness ; and in the second, because they spring from our depravity. Hence the Apostle Paul puts among the works of the flesh both those which have their seat in the body, and those which have in a manner no connection with it. ''Now the works of the flesh are these, adultery, lasciviousness, idolatry, heresies, envyings." According to this the "works of the flesh" are not only such as are seated in the flesh (for envy and heresy can not be of this sort), but all depraved dispositions. This is a general idea of the passions : but as it is vague and ob- scure, we will endeavor to explain it more distinctly, and with this IQQ JAMES SAUEIN. view we will show — first, wliat the passions do in the mind — next, what they do in the senses— thirdly, what thej are in the imagina- tion—and lastly, what they are in the heart. Four portraits of the passions, four explications of the condition of man. In order to connect the matter more closely, as we show you what '' fleshly lusts" are in these four views, we will endeavor to convince you that in these four respects they " war against the soul." The second part of our discourse, therefore, which was to treat of the disorders of the passions, will be included in the first, which explains their nature. 1. The passions produce in the mind a strong attention to what- ever can justify and gratify them. The most odious objects may be so placed as to appear agreeable, and the most lovely objects so as to appear odious. There is no absurdity so palpable but it may be made to appear likely ; and there is no truth so clear but it may be made to ajDpear doubtful. A passionate man fixes all the attention of his mind on such sides of objects as favor his passion, and this is the source of innumerable false judgings, of which we are every day witnesses and authors. If you observe all the passions, you will find they have all this character. What is vengeance in the mind of a vindictive man ? It is a fixed attention to all the favorable lights in which vengeance may be considered ; it is a continual study to avoid every odious light in which the subject may be placed. On the one side there is a certain deity in the world, who has made revenge a law. This deity is worldly honor, and at the bar of this judge to forget inju- ries is mean, and to pardon them cowardice. On the other side vengeance disturbs society, usurps the office of a magistrate, and violates the precepts of religion. A dispassionate man, examining without prejudice this question. Ought I to revenge the injury I have received ? would weigh all these motives, consider each apart, and all together, and would determine to act according as the most just and weighty reasons should determine him : but a revengeful man considers none but the first, he pays no attention to the last ; he always exclaims my honor, my honor; he never says my religion and my salvation. What is hatred ? It is a close attention to a man's imperfections. Is any man free ? Is any man so imperfect as to have nothing good in him ? Is there nothing to compensate his defects ? This man is not handsome, but he is wise : his genius is not lively, but his heart is sincere : he can not assist you with money, but he can give you much good advice, supported by an excellent example : he is not either prince, king, or emperor, but he is a man, a Christian, a be- THE NATUBE AND CONTEOL OF THE PASSIONS. 161 liever, and in all these respects lie deserves esteem. The passionate man turns away his eyes from all these advantageous sides, and attends only to the rest. Is it astonishing that he hates a person in whom he sees nothing but imperfection ? Thus a counselor opens and sets forth his cause with such artifice that law seems to be clearly on his side ; he forgets one fact, suppresses one circumstance, omits to draw one inference, which being brought forward to view, entirely change the nature of the subject, and his client loses his cause. In the same manner, a defender of a false religion always revolves in his mind the arguments that seem to establish it, and never recollects those which subvert it. He will curtail a sentence, cut off what goes before, leave out what folio WS; and retain only such detached expres- sions as seem to countenance his error, but which in connection with the rest would strip it of all probability. What is stiU more singular is, that love to true religion, that love which, under the direction of reason, opens a wide field of argument and evidence, engages us in this sort of false judging, when we give ourselves up to it through passion or prejudice. This is what the passions do in the mind, and it is easy to com- prehend the reason St. Peter had to say in this view, " fieshly lusts war against the soul." Certainly one of the noblest advantages of a man is to reason, to examine proofs and weigh motives, to consider an object on every side, to combine the various arguments that are alleged either for or against a proposition, in order on these grounds to regulate our ideas and opinions, our hatred and our love. The passionate man renounces this advantage, he never reasons in a pas- sion, his mind is hmited, his soul is in chains, his "fleshly passions war against his soul." Having examined the passions in the mind, let us consider them in the senses. To comprehend this, recollect what we just now said, that the passions owe their origin to the Creator, who instituted them for the purpose of preserving us. When an object would injure health or life^ it is necessary to our safety that there should be an emotion in our senses to affect a quick escape from the danger ; fear does this. A man struck with the idea of sudden danger has a rapidity which he could not have in a tranquil state, or during a cool trial of his power. It is necessary, when an enemy approaches to destroy us, that our senses should so move as to animate us with a power of resistance. Anger does this, for it is a collection of spir- its — but allow me to borrow here the words of a modern philosopher, who has admirably expressed the motions excited by the passions in our bodies. "Before the sight of an object of passion," says 11 IQ2 JAMES SAURIN. lie, '' the spirits were diffused througli all the body to preserve every part alike, but on the appearance of this new object the whole system is shaken ; the greater part of the animal spirits rush into all the exterior parts of the body, in order to put it into a condition proper to produce such motions as are necessary to acquire the good, or to avoid the evil now present. If it happen that the power of man is unequal to his wants, these same spirits distribute themselves so as to make him utter mechanically certain words and cries, and so as to spread over his countenance and over the rest of his body an air capable of agitating others with the same passion with which he him- self is moved. For as men and other animals are united together by eyes and ears, when any one is agitated he necessarily shakes all others that see and hear him, and naturally produces painful feel- ings in their imaginations, which interest them in his relief. The rest of the spirits rush violently into the heart, the lungs, the liver, and the other vitals, in order to lay all these parts under contribu- tion, and hastily to derive from them as quick as possible the spirits necessary for the preservation of the body in these extraordinary efforts." Such are the movements excited by the passions in the senses, and all these to a certain degree are necessary for the preserv- ation of our bodies, and are the institutions of our Creator : but three things are necessary to preserve order in these emotions. First, they must never be excited in the body without the direction of the v/ill and the reason. Secondly, they must always be proportional, I mean, the emotion of fear, for example, must never be, except in sight of objects cajoable of hurting us ; the emotion of anger must never be, except in sight of an enemy who actually has both the will and the power of injuring our well-being. And thirdly, they must always stop when and where we will they should. When the passions subvert this order, they violate three wise institutes of our Creator. The emotions excited by the passions in our senses are not free. An angry man is carried beyond himself in spite of himself. A voluptuous man receives a sensible impression from an exterior object, and in spite of all the dictates of reason throws himself into a flaming fire that consumes him. The emotions excited by the passions in our senses are not pro- portional ; I mean that a timorous man, for example, turns as pale at the sight of a fanciful as of a real danger ; he sometimes fears a phantom and a substance alike. A man " whose god is his belly," feels his appetite as much excited by a dish fatal to his health as by one necessary to support his strength, and to keep him alive. THE NATUEE AND CONTROL OF THE PASSIONS. Igo The emotions excited by the passions in our senses do not obey the orders of our will. The movement is an overflow of spirits "which no reflections can restrain. It is not a gentle fire to give the blood a warmth necessary to its circulation ; it is a volcano pouring out its flame all liquid and destructive on every side. It is not a gentle stream, purling in its proper bed, meandering through the fields, and moistening, refireshing, and invigorating them as it goes, but it is a rapid flood, breaking, down all its banks, carrying every where mire and mud, sweeping away the harvest, subverting hills and trees, and carrying away every thing on all sides that oppose its passage. This is what the passions do in the senses, and do you not conceive, my brethren, that in this second respect they " war against the soul ?" They " war against the soul" by the disorders they introduce into that body which they ought to preserve. They dissipate the spirits, weaken the memory, wear out the brain. Behold those trembling hands, those discolored eyes, that body bent and bowed down to the ground — these are the effects of violent passions. When the body is in such a state, it is easy to conceive that the soul suffers with it. The union between the two is so close that the alteration of the one necessarily alters the other. "When the capacity of the soul is ab- sorbed by painful sensations, we are incapable of attending to truth. If the spirits necessary to support us in meditation be dissipated, we can no longer meditate. If the brain, which must be of a certain consistence to receive impressions of objects, has lost that consistence, it can recover it no more. They "war against the soul" by disconcerting the whole economy of man, and by making him consider such sensations of pleasure as Providence gave him only for the sake of engaging him to preserve his body as a sort of supreme good, worthy of all his care and atten- tion for its own sake. They '' war against the soul" because they reduce it to a state of slavery to the body, over which it ought to rule. Is any thing more unworthy of an immortal soul than to follow no other rule of judg- ing than an agitation of the organs of the body, the heat of the blood, the motion of animal spirits ? And does not this daily happen to a passionate man ? A man who reasons fairly when his senses are tranquil, does he not reason like an idiot when his senses are agi- tated ? Cool and dispassionate, he thinks he ought to eat and drink only what is necessary to support his health and his life — at most to '' receive with thanksgiving" such innocent pleasures as religion allows him to enjoy ; but when his senses are agitated, his taste be- IQ^ JAMES SATJRIN. comes dainty, and he thinks he may glut himself with food, drown himself in wine, and give himself up without reserve, to all the excesses of voluptuousness. When his senses were cool and tranquil, he thought it sufficient to oppose precautions of prudence against the designs of an enemy to his injury ; but when his senses are agitated he thinks he ought to attack him, fall on him, stab him, kill him. When he was cool he was free, he was a sovereign, but now that his senses are agitated, he is a subject, he is a slave. Base submission ! Unworthy slavery ! We blush for human nature when we see it in such bondage. Behold that man, he has as many virtues, perhaps more, than most men. Examine him on the article of good breed- ing. He perfectly understands, and scrupulously observes all the laws of it. Examine him on the point of disinterestedness. He abounds in it, and to see the manner in which he gives, you would say he thought he increased his fortune by bestowing it in acts of benevolence. Examine him concerning religion. He respects the majesty of it, he always pronounces the name of God with venera- tion, he never thinks of His works without admiration, or His attri- butes without reverence or fear. Place this man at a gaming- table, put the dice or the cards in his hand, and you will know him no more ; he loses all self-possession, he forgets pohteness, disinterested- ness, and rehgion, he insults his fellow-creatures, and blasphemes his God. His soul teems with avarice, his body is distorted, his thoughts are troubled, his temper is changed, his countenance turns pale, his eyes sparkle, his mouth foams, his spirits are in a flame, he is another man, no, it is not a man, it is a wild beast, it is a devil. We never give ourselves up thus to our senses without feeling some pleasure, and what is very dreadful, this pleasure abides in the memory, makes deep traces in the brain, in a word, imprints itself on the imagination — and this leads us to our third article, in which we are to consider what the passions do in the imagination. K the senses were excited to act only by the presence of objects —if the soul were agitated only by the action of the senses, one single mean would suffice to guard us from irregular passions ; that would be to flee from the object that excites them ; but the passions pro- duce other disorders, they leave deep impressions on the imagination. When we give ourselves up to the senses we feel pleasure, this pleas- ure strikes the imagination, and the imagination thus struck with the pleasure it has found, recollects it, and solicits the passionate man to return to objects that made him so happy. Thus old men have sometimes miserable remains of a passion, which seems to suppose a certain constitution, and which should THE NATURE AND CONTROL OP THE PASSIONS. 165 seem to be extinct, as tlie constitution implied is no more ; but the recollection that such and such objects bad been the cause of such and such pleasures is dear to their souls ; they love to remember them, they make them a part of all their conversations ; they drew flattering portraits, and by recounting their past pleasures, indemnify themselves for the prohibition under which old age has laid them. For the same reason it is that a worldling, who has plunged himself into all the dissipations of life, finds it so difficult to renounce the world when he comes to die. Indeed a bodv borne down with ill- ness, a nature almost extinct, senses half dead, seem improper habita- tions of love to sensual pleasure ; and yet imagination, struck with past pleasure, tells this skeleton that the world is amiable, that always when he went into it he enjoyed a real pleasure, and that, on the contrary, when he performed religious exercises he felt pain ; and this Hvely impression gives such a man a present aversion to relig- ion; it incessantly turns his mind toward the object of which death is about to deprive him, so that, without a miracle of grace, he can never look toward the objects of religion with desire and pleasure. We go further. We affirm that the disorders of the passions in the imasfination far exceed those in the senses ; the action of the senses is limited : but that of the imagination is boundless, so that the difference is almost as great as that between finite and infinite, if you will pardon the expression. A man who actiially takes pleas- ure in debauchery, feels this pleasure, but he does not persuade him- self that he feels it more than he does : but a man who indulges his fancy forms most extravagant ideas, for imagination magnifies some objects, creates others, accumulates phantom upon phantom, and fills up a vast space with ideal joys which have no originals in nature. Hence it comes that we are more pleased with imaginary ideas than with the actual enjoyment of what we imagine, because imagination having made boundless promises, it gladdens the soul with the hope of more to supply the want of what present objects fail of producing. O deplorable state of man ! The littleness of his mind will not - allow him to contemplate any object but that of his passion, while it is present to his senses ; it will not allow him then to recollect the motives, the great motives, that should impel him to his duty : and when the object is absent, not being able to offer it to his senses, he presents it again to his imagination clothed with new and foreign charms, deceitful ideas of which make up for its absence, and excite in him a love more violent than that of actual possession, when he felt at least the folly and vanity of it. horrid war of the passions against the soul ! Shut the door of your closets against the enchanted 166 JAMES SAURIN. object, it will enter with you. Try to get rid of it by traversing plains, and fields, and whole countries ; cleave the waves of the sea, fly on the wings of the wind, and try to put between yourself and your enchantress the deep, the rolling ocean, she will travel with you, sail with you, every where haunt you, because wherever you go you will carry yourself, and within you, deep in your imagination, the bewitching image impressed. Let us consider, in fine, the passions in the heaii, and the disor- ders they cause there. What can fill the heart of man? A prophet has answered this question, and has included all morality in one point, " my chief good is to draw near to God ;" but as God does not commune with us immediately, while we are in this world, but im- parts felicity by means of creatures, he has given these creatures two characters, which being well examined by a reasonable man, conduct him to the Creator, but which turn the passionate man aside. On the one hand; creatures render us happy to a certain degree, this is their first character: on the other, they leave a void in the soul which they are incapable of filling, this is their second character. This is the design of God, and this design the passions oppose. Let us hear a reasonable man draw conclusions, and let us observe what opposite conclusions a passionate man draws. The reasonable man says, creatures leave a void in my soul which they are incapable of filling : but what effect should this pro- duce in my heart, and what end had God in setting bounds so strait to that power of making me happy, which He communicated to them ? It was to reclaim me to Himself, to persuade me that He only can make me happy ; it was to make me say to myself, my desires are eternal, whatever is not eternal is unequal to my desires ; my passions are infinite, whatever is not infinite is beneath my j^assions, and God only can satisfy them. A passionate man, from the void he finds in the creatures, draws conclusions directly opposite. Each creature in particular is incapa- ble of making me happy : but could I unite them all, could I, so to speak, extract the substantial from all, certainly nothing would be wanting to my happiness. In this miserable supposition he becomes full of perturbation, he launches out, he collects, he accumulates. It is not enough to acquire conveniences, he must have superfluities. It is not enough that my name be known in my family, and among my acquaintance, it must be spread over the whole city, the province, the kingdom, the four parts of the globe. Every clime illuminated by the sun shall know that I exist, and that I have a superior genius. It is not enough to conquer some hearts, I will subdue all, and dis- THE NATURE AND CONTROL OF THE PASSIONS. 1^7 play tlie astonisliing art of uniting all voices in my favor ; men divided in opinion alDOut every thing else shall agree in one point, that is, to celebrate my praise. It is not enough to have many infe- riors, I must have no master, no equal, I must be a universal mon- arch, and subdue the whole world ; and when I shall have accom- plished these vast designs, I will seek other creatures to subdue, and more worlds to conquer. Thus the passions disconcert the plan of God I Such are the conclusions of a heart infatuated with passion ! The disciple of reason says, creatures contribute to render me happy to a certain degree : but this j)ower is not their own. Gross, sensible, material beings can not contribute to the happiness of a spiritual creature. If creatures can augment my happiness, it is be- cause God has lent them a power natural only to Himself. God is then 1he source of felicity, and all I see elsewhere is only an emana- tion of His essence : but if the streams be so pure, what is the fount- ain ! If effects to be so noble, what is the cause ! If rays be so luminous, what is the source of light from which they proceed I The conclusions of an impassioned man are directly opposite- Says he, creatures render me happy to a certain degree, therefore they are the cause of my happiness, they deserve all my efforts, the}^ shall be my god. Thus the passionate man renders to his aliments, his gold, his silver, his equipage, his horses, the most noble act of adoration. For what is the most noble act of adoration ? Is it to build temples ? To erect altars ? To kill victims ? To sacrifice burnt-offerings? To burn incense ? ISTo. It is that incHnation of our heart to union with God, that aspiring to possess Him, that love, that effusion of soul, which makes us exclaim, " My chief good is to draw near to God." This homage the man of passion renders to the object of his passions, "his god is his belly," his " covetousness his idolatry;" and this is what "fleshly lusts" become in the heart. They remove us from God, and, by removing us from Him, deprive us of all the good that proceeds from a union with the Supreme Good, and thus make war with every part of ourselves, and with every moment of our duration. War against our reason, for instead of deriving, by virtue of a union to God, assistance necessary to the practice of what reason approves, and what grace only renders practicable, we are given up to our evil dispositions, and compelled by our passions to do what our own reason abhors. War against the regulation of life, for instead of putting on by virtue of union to God, the " easy yoke," and taking up the "light burden" which religion imposes, we become slaves of envy, venge- 1^3 JAMES SAURIN. arice and ambition; we are weighed down mtli a yoke of iron, which we have no power to get rid of, even though we groan under its intolerable weightiness. War against conscience, for instead of being justified by virtue of a union with God, and having " peace with Him through our Lord Jesus Christ," and feeling that heaven begun, "joy unspeaka- ble and full of glory/' by following our passions we become a prey to distracting fear, troubles without end, cutting remorse, and awful earnests of eternal misery. War on a dying bed, for whereas by being united to God our death-bed would have become a field of triumph, where the Prince of life, the Conqueror of death would have made us share His vic- tory, by abandoning ourselves to our passions, we see nothing in a dying hour but an awful futurity, a frowning Governor, the bare idea of which alarms, terrifies, and drives us to despair. HI. We have seen the nature and the disorders of the passions, now let us examine what remedies we ought to apply. In order to prevent and correct the disorders, which the passions produce in the mind, we must observe the following rules : 1. We must avoid 2^Teci2nlance, and suspend our judgment It does not depend on us to have clear ideas of all things : but we have power to suspend our judgment till we obtain evidence of the nature of the object before us. This is one of the greatest advantages of an intelligent being. A celebrated divine has such a high idea of this that he maintains this hyperbolical thesis, that " always when we mistake, even in things indifferent in themselves, we sin, because then we abuse our reason, the use of which consists in never determin- ing without evidence." Though we suppose this divine has exceeded the matter, yet it is certain that a wise man can never take too much pains to form a habit of not judging a point, not considering it as useful or advantageous till after he has examined it on every side. '^Let a man," says a philosopher of great name, "let a man only pass one year in the world, hearing all they say, and believing noth- ing, entering every moment into himself, and suspending his judg- ment till truth and evidence appear, and I will esteem him more learned than Aristotle, wiser than Socrates, and a greater man than Plato." 2. A man must reform even Ms education. In every family the minds of children are turned to a certain point. Every family has its prejudice, 1 had almost said its absurdity ; and hence it comes to pass that people despise the profession they do not exercise. Hear the merchant, he will tell you that nothing so much deserves the at- THE NATURE AND CONTROL OF THE PASSIONS. 169 tention of mankind as trade, as acquiring money by every created tiling, as knowing tlie value of this, and the worth of that, as taxing, so to speak, all the works of art, and all the productions of nature. Hear the man of learning, he will tell you that the perfection of man consists in literature, that there is a difference as essential between a scholar and a man of no literature, as between a rational creature and a brute. Hear the soldier, he will tell you that the man of science is a pedant who ought to be confined to the dirt and darkness of the schools, that the merchant is the most sordid part of society, and that nothing is so noble as the profession of arms. One would think, to hear him talk, that the sword by his side is a patent for pre- eminence, and that mankind have no need of any people, who can not rout an army, cut through a squadron, or scale a wall. Hear him who has got the disease of quality ; he will tell you that other men are nothing but reptiles beneath his feet, that human blood, stained every where else, is pure only in his veins. That nobility serves for every thing, for genius, and education, and fortune, and sometimes even for common sense and good faith. Hear the peasant, he will tell you that a nobleman is an enthusiast for ajDpropriating to him- self the virtues of his ancestors, and for pretending to find in old quaint names, and in worm-eaten papers, advantages which belong only to real and actual abilities. , As I said before, each family has its prejudice, every profession has its folly, all proceeding from this principle, because we consider objects only in one point of view. To correct ourselves on this article, we must go to the source, exam- ine how our minds were directed in our childhood ; in a word, we must review and reform even our education. 3. In fine, we must^ as well as we can, choose a friend wise enough to know truth, and generous enough to impart it to others ; a man who will show us an object on every side, when we are inclined to consider it only on one. I say as well as you can, for to give this rule is to suppose two things, both sometimes alike impracticable ; the one, that such a man can be found ; and the other, that he will be heard with deference. When we are so happy as to find this in- estimable treasure, we have found a remedy of marvelous efficacy against the disorders which the passions produce in the mind. Let us make the trial. Suppose a faithful friend should address one of you in this manner. Heaven has united in your favor the most happy circumstances. The blood of the greatest heroes animates you, and your name alone is an encomium. Besides this you have an affluent fortune, and Providence has given you abundance to sup- port your dignity, and to discharge every thing that your splendid 170 JAMES SAURIN. station requires. You have also a fine and acute genius, and your natural talents are cultivated by an excellent education. Your health seems free from the infirmities of Hfe, and if any man may hope for a long duration here, you are the man who may expect it. With all these noble advantages you may asjoire at any thing. But one thing is wanting. You are dazzled with your own splendor, and your feeble eyes are almost put out with the brilliancy of your condition. Your imagination, struck with the idea of the prince whom you have the honor to serve, makes you consider yourself as a kind of royal personage. You have formed your family on the plan of the court. You are proud, arrogant, haughty. Your seat resembles a tribunal, and all your expressions are sentences from which it is a crime to appeal. As you will never suffer yourself to be contradicted, you seem to be applauded ; but a sacrifice is made to your vanity and not to your merit, and people bow not to your reason but to your tyranny. As they fear you avail yourself of your credit to brave others, each endeavors to oppose you, and to throw down in your absence the altar he had erected in your presence, and on which no incense sincerely offered burns, except that which you yourself put there. So much for irregular passions in the mind. Let us now lay down a few rules for the government of the senses. Before we proceed, we can not help deploring the misery of a man who is impelled by the disorders of his senses, and the heat of his constitution, to criminal passions. Such a man often deserves pity more than indignation. A bad constitution is sometimes com- patible with a good heart. We can not think without trembling of an ungrateful man, a cheat, a traitor, an assassin ; for their crimes al\va3='S suppose hberty of mind and consent of will : but a man driven from the post of duty by the heat of his blood, by an over- flow of humors, by the fermentation and flame of his spirits, often sins by constraint, and, so to speak, protests against his crime even while he commits it. Hence we often see angry people become full of love and pity, always inclined to forgive, or always ready to ask pardon ; while others, cold, calm, tranquil, revolve eternal hatreds in their souls, and leave them for an inheritance to their children. However, though the irregularity of the senses diminishes the atrociousness of the crime, yet it can not excuse those who do not make continual efforts to correct it. To acknowledge that we are constitutionally inclined to violate the laws of God, and to live quietly in practices directed by constitutional heat, is to have the interior tainted. It is an evidence that the malady which at first THE NATURE AND CONTROL OP THE PASSIONS. 171 attacked only tlie exterior of the man has communicated itself to all the frame, and infected the vitals. "We oppose this against the frivo- lous excuses of some sinners, who, while they abandon themselves like brute beasts to the most guilty passions, lay all the blame on the misfortune of their constitution. - They say their will has no part in their excesses — they can not change their constitution — and God can not justly blame them for irregularities which proceeded from the natural union of the soul with the body. Indeed they prove by their talk that they would be very sorry not to have a con- stitution to serve for an apology for sin, and to cover the licentious- ness of casting off an obligation, which the law of God, according to them, requires of none but such as have received from nature the power of discharging it. If these maxims be admitted, what be- comes of the morality of Jesus Christ ? "What becomes of the com- mands concerning mortification and repentance ? But people who talk thuS; intend less to correct their faults than to palliate them ; and this discourse is intended only for such as are willing to apply means to free themselves from the dominion of irregular passions. Certainly the best advice that can be given to a man whose con- stitution inclines him to sin, is, that he avoid opportunities, and flee from such objects as affect and disconcert him. It does not depend on you to be unconcerned in the sight of an object fatal to your in- nocence : but it does depend on you to keep out of the way of seeing it. It does not depend on you to be animated at the sight of a gaming table : but it does depend on you to avoid such whimsical places, where sharping goes for merit. Let us not be presumptuous. Let us make dif&dence a principle of virtue. Let us remember St. Peter ; he was fired with zeal, he thought every thing possible to his love, his presumption was the cause of his fall, and many by follow- in o* his example have yielded to temptation, and have found the truth of an apocryphal maxim, " he that loveth danger shall perish therein." After all, that virtue which owes its firmness only to a want of an opportunity for vice is very feeble, and it argues very little attain- ment only to be able to resist our passions in the absence of tempta- tion. I recollect a maxim of St. Paul, " I wrote unto 3^ou not to company with fornicators," but I did not mean that you should have no conversation "with fornicators of this world, for then must ye needs go out of the world." Literally, to avoid all objects danger- ous to our passions, " we must go out of the world." Are there no remedies adapted to the necessity we are under of living among mankind ? Is there no such thing as correcting, with the assistance of grace, the irregularities of our constitution, and freeing ourselves 172 JAMES SAURIN. from its dominion, so tliat we may be able, if not to seek our tempt- ation for tlie sake of the glory of subduing them, at least to resist them, and not suffer them to conquer us, when in spite of all our caution they will attack us ? Three remedies are necessary to our success in this painful undertaking ; to suspend acts — to flee idleness — to mortify sense. We must suspend acts. Let us form a just idea of temperament or constitution. It consists in one of these two things, or in both together ; in a disposition of organs in the nature of animal spirits. For example, a man is angry when the organs which serve that pas- sion, are more accessible than others, and when his animal sjDirits are easily heated. Hence it necessarily follows that two things must be done to correct constitutional auger ; the one, the disposition of the organs must be changed; and the other, the nature of the spirits must be changed, so that on the one hand, the spirits no longer find- ing these organs disposed to give them passage, and on the other hand the spirits having lost a facility of taking fire, there will be within the man none of the revolutions of sense, which he could not resist when they were excited. A suspension of acts changes the disposition of the organs. The more the spirits enter into these organs, the more easy is the access, and the propensity insurmountable ; the more acts of anger there are, the more incorrigible will anger become ; because the more acts of anger there are, the more accessible will the organs of anger be, so that the animal spirits will naturally fall there by their own motion. The spirits then must be restrained. The bias they have to the ways to which they have been habituated by the practice of sin must be turned, and we must always remember a truth often inculcated, that is, that the more acts of sin we commit the more difficult to correct will habits of sin become ; but that when by taking pains with our- selves, we have turned the course of the spirits, they will take dif- ferent ways, and this is done by suspending the acts. It is not impossible to change even the nature of our animal spirits. This is done by suspending what contributed to nourish them in a state of disorder. What contributes to the nature of spirits ? Diet exercise, air, the whole course of life we live. It is very difficult in a discourse like this, to give a full catalogue of remedies proper to regulate the animal spirits and the humors of the body. I believe it would be dangerous to many people. Some men are so made that reflections too accurate on this article would be more likely to increase their vices than to diminish them. However, there is not one person willing to turn his attention to this subject who is not THE NATURE AND CONTROL OF THE PASSIONS. 173 able to become a preacber to bimself. Let a man enter into himself, let bim survey tbe bistorj of bis excuses, let bim examine all circum- stances, let bim recollect wbat passed witbin bim on sucb and sucb occasion, let bim closely consider wbat moved and agitated bim, and be will learn more by sucb a meditation tban all sermons and cas- uistical books can teacb bim. Tbe second remedy is to avoid idleness. Wbat is idleness ? It is tbat situation of soul in wbicb no effort is made to direct tbe course of tbe spirit tbis way ratber tban tbat. Wbat must bappen tben ? We bave supposed tbat some organs of a man constitutionally irregu- lar are more accessible tban otbers. When we are idle, and make no efforts to direct tbe animal spirits, tbey naturally take tbe easiest way, and consequently direct their own course to those organs wbicb passion has made easy of access. To avoid this disorder, we must be employed, and always employed. This rule is neither impracti- cable nor difficult. We do not mean that the soul should be always on the stretch in meditation or prayer. An innocent recreation, an easy conversation, agreeable exercise, may bave each its place in occupations of tbis kind. For these reasons we applaud those, who make such maxims parts of the education of youth, as either to teacb them an art or employ them in some bodily exercise. Not that we propose this maxim as it is received in some families, where tbey think all the merit of a young gentleman consists in hunting, riding, or some exercise of that kind ; and that of a young lady, in distin- guishing herself in dancing, music, or needle-work. We mean, that these employments should be subordinate to others more serious, and more worthy of an immortal soul, that they should serve only for relaxation, so tbat by thus taking part in tbe innocent pleasures of tbe world, we may be better prepared to avoid the guilty pursuits of it. The third remedy is mortificaiion of the senses^ a remedy which St. Paul always used, *'I keep under my body, and bring it into sub- jection." Few people bave sucb sound notions. Some casuists bave stretched the subject beyond its due bounds so as to establish this principle, that sinfal man can enjoy no pleasure without a crime, be- cause sin having been bis delight, pain ought to be forever bis lot. Tbis principle may perhaps be probably considered in regard to un- regenerate men : but it can not be admitted in regard to true Chris- tians. Accordingly, we place among those who bave unsound no- tions of mortifications, all sucb as make it consist in vain practices, useless in themselves, and having no relation to the principal design of religion, "bodily exercise profiting little;" tbey are ''command- ments of men," in tbe language of Scripture. 174 JAMES SAURIN. But if some have entertained extravagant notions of mortifi- cation, others have restrained the subject too much. Under pretense that the rehgion of Jesus Christ is spiritual, thej have neglected the study and practice of evangelical morality ; but we have heard the example of St. Paul, and it is our duty to imitate it. We must '' keep under the body," and "bring it into subjection," the senses must be bridled by violence, innocent things must often be refused them, in order to obtain the mastery when they require unlawful things; we must fast, we must avoid ease, because it tends to effeminacy. All this is difficult, I grant : but if the undertaking be hazardous, suc- cess will be glorious. Thirty, forty years, employed in reforming an irregular constitution, ought not to be regretted. What a glory to have subdued the senses ! What a glory to have restored the soul to its primitive superiority, to have crucified the "body of sin," to lead it in triumph, and to destroy, that is to annihilate it^ according to an expression of Scriptures, and so to approach those pure spirits, to whom the motions of matter can make no alteration ! The disorders produced by the passions in the imagination, and against which also we ought to furnish you mth some remedies, are like those complicated disorders which require opposite remedies, because they are the effect of opposite causes, so that the means em- plo^^ed to diminish one part not unfrequently increase another. It should seem at first, that the best remedy which can be applied to disorders introduced by the passions into the imagination, is well to consid(.T the nature of the objects of the passions, and thoroughly to know the world : and yet on the other hand, it may truly be said that the most certain way of succeeding would be to know nothing at all about the world. If you know the pleasures of the world, if you know by experience the pleasure of gratifying a passion, you will fall into the misfortune we wish you to avoid ; you will receive bad impressions; you will acquire dangerous recollections, and a seducing memory will be a new occasion of sin : but if you do not know the pleasures of the world, you will be likely to form ideas too flattering of it, you will create images more beautiful than the originals themselves, and by the immense value you set upon the victim, when you are just going to offer it up perhaps you will re- treat, and not make the sacrifice. Hence we often see persons whom the superstition or avarice of their families has in childhood con- fined in a nunnery (suppose it were allowable in other cases, yet in this case done prematurely), I say, these persons not knowino- the world, wish for its pleasures with more ardor than if they had actu- ally experienced them. So they who have never been in company THE NATURE AND CONTROL OF THE PASSIONS. 175 witli the great, generally imagine that their society is full of charms, that all is pleasure in their company, and that a circle of rich and fashionable people sitting in an elegant apartment is far more lively and animated than one composed of people of inferior rank, and middling fortune. Hence also it is that th^y who, after having lived a dissipated life, have the rare happiness of renouncing it, do so with more sincerity than others, who never knew the vanity of such a life by experience. So very different are the remedies for disorders of the imagination. But as in complicated disorders, to which we have compared them, a wise physician chiefly attends to the most dangerous com- plaint, and distributes his remedies so as to counteract those which are less fatal, we will observe the same method on this occasion. Doubtless the most dangerous way to obtain a contempt for the pleasures of the world, is to get an experimental knowledge of them, in order to detach ourselves more easily from them by the thorough sense we have of their vanity. We hazard a fall by approaching too near, and such very often is the ascendency of ^he world over us, that we can not detach ourselves from it though we are disgusted with it. Let us endeavor then to preserve our imagination pure ; let us abstain from pleasure to preclude the possibility of remem- bering them ; let retirement, and, if it be practicable, perpetual pri- vacy, from the moment we enter into the world to the day we quit it, save us from all bad impressions, so that we may never know the effects which worldly objects would produce in our passions. This method, sure and effectual, is useless and impracticable in regard to such as have received bad impressions on their imagination. Peo- ple of this character ought to jDursue the second method we men- tioned, that is to profit by their losses, and derive wisdom from their errors. When you recollect sin, you may remember the folly and pain of it Let the courtier whose imagination is yet full of the vain glory of a splendid court, remember the intrigue he has known there, the craft, the injustice, the treachery, the dark and dismal plans that are formed and executed there. I would advise such a man, when his passions solicit him to sin, to call in the aid of some other idea to strike and affect his imagina- tion. Let him make choice of that out of the truths of religion which seems most likely to impress his mind, and let him learn the art of instantly opposing impression against impression, and image against image ; for example, let him often fix his attention on death, judgment, and hell ; let him often say to himself, I must die soon, I must stand before a severe tribunal, and appear in the presence of 176 JAMES SAURIN. an impartial judge; let hini go down in tliouglit into that gulf, where the wicked expiate in eternal torments their momentary pleasures ; let him think he hears the sound of the piercing cries of the victims whom divine justice sacrifices in hell: let him often weigh in his mind the ''chains of darkness" that load miserable creatures in hell ; let him often approach the fire that consumes them ; let him, so to speak, scent the smoke that rises up forever and ever ; let him often think of eternity, and place himself in that awful moment in which " the angel will lift up his hand to heaven, and swear by him that liveth forever and ever, that there shall be time no longer;" and let the numerous reflections furnished by all these subjects be kept as corps de reserve, always ready to fly to his aid, when the enemy approaches to attack him. In fine, to heal the disorders which the passions produce in the heart, two things must be done. First, the vanity of all the crea- tures must be observed ; and this will free us from the desire of pos- sessing and collecting the whole in order to fill up the void which single enjoyments leave. Secondly, we must ascend from creatures to the Creator, in order to get rid of the folly of attributing to the world the perfection and sufficiency of God. Let us free our hearts from an avidity for new pleasures by com- prehending all creatures in our catalogue of vanities. I allow, in- constancy, and love of novelty are in some sense rational. It is natural for a being exposed to trouble to choose to change his con- dition, and as that in which he is jdelds certain trouble, to try whether another will not be something easier. It is natural to a man who has found nothing but imperfect pleasure in former enjoy- ments, to desire new objects. The most noble souls, the greatest geniuses, the largest hearts, have often the most inconstancy and love of novelty, because the extent of their capacity and the space of their wishes make them feel, more than other men, the diminu- tiveness and incompetency of all creatures. But the misfortune is, man can not change his situation without enterino- into another almost like that from which he came. Let us persuade ourselves that there is nothing substantial in creatures, that all conditions, be- sides characters of vanity common to all human things, have some imperfections peculiar to themselves. If you rise out of obscurity you will not have the troubles of obscurity, but you will have those of conspicuous stations ; you will make talk for every body you will be exposed to envy, you will be responsible to each individual for your conduct. If you quit solitude, you will not have the trou- bles of solitude, but you will have those of society ; you will live THE NATURE AND CONTROL OF THE PASSIONS. 177 Qnder restraint, you will lose your liberty, inestimable liberty, the greatest treasure of mankind, you will have to bear with the faults of all people connected with you. If heaven gives you a family, you will not have the troubles of such as have none, but you will have others necessarily resulting from domestic connections ; you will multiply your miseries by the number of your children, you will fear for their fortune, you will be in pain about their health, and you will tremble for fear of their death. My brethrcD, I repeat it again, there is nothing substantial in this life. Every condition has diflS.culties of its own as well as the common inanity of all human things. If, in some sense, nothing ought to surprise us less than the inconstancy of mankind and their love of novelty, in another view, nothing ought to astonish us more, at least there is nothing more weak and senseless. A man who thinks to remedy the vanity of earthly things by running from one object to another, is hke him who, in order to determine whether there be in a great heap of stones any one capable of nourishing him, should resolve to taste them all one after another. Let us shorten our labor. Let us put all creatures into one class. Let us cry, vanity in all. K we deter- mine to pursue new objects, let lis choose such as are capable of sat- isfying us. Let us not seek them here below. They are not to be found in this old world, which God has cursed. They are in the "new heavens, and the new earth," which religion promises. To comprehend all creatures in a catalogue of vanities is an excellent rule to heal the heart of the disorders of passion. Next we must frequently ascend from creatures to the Creator, and cease to consider them as the supreme good. We intend here a devotion of all times, places, and circumstances ; for, my brethren, one great source of depravity in the most eminent saints is to re- strain the spirit of religion to certain times, places, and circum- stances. There is an art of glorifying God by exercising religion every where. "Whether ye eat or drink, or whatsoever you do, dO' all to the glory of God." Do you enjoy the pleasures of sense ? Say to yourself, God is the author of this pleasure. The nourishment I derive from my food is not necessarily produced by aliments, they have no natural power to move my nerves, God has communicated it to them ; there is no necessary connection between the motions of my senses and agreeable sensations in my soul, it is God who has estabhshed the union between motion and sensation. The particles emitted by this flower could not necessarily move the nerves of my smell, it is God who has established this law ; the motion of my smelling nerves can not naturally excite a sensation of agreeable 12 178 JAMES SAURIN. odor in my soul, it is God who has established this union ; and so of the rest. God is supreme happiness, the source from which all the charms of creatures proceed. He is the light of the sun, the flavor of food, the fragrance of odors, the harmony of sounds, He is whatever is capable of producing real pleasure, because He emi- nently possesses all felicity, and because all kinds of felicity flow from Him as their spring. Because we love pleasure we ought to love God, from whom pleasure proceeds ; because we love pleasure we ought to abstain from it, when God prohibits it, because He is infinitely able to indemnify us for all the sacrifices we make to His orders. To ascend from creatures to the Creator is the last remedy we prescribe for the disorders of the passions. Great duties they are : but they are founded on strong motives. Of these St. Peter mentions one of singular efficacy, that is, that we are "strangers and pilgrims" upon earth. "Dearly beloved, I beseech you as strangers and pilgrims, abstain from fleshly lusts, which war against the soul." The believers to whom the Apostle wrote this epistle were " strangers and pilgrims" in three senses — as exiles — as Christians — and as mortals. 1. As exiles. This epistle is addressed to such strangers as were scattered throughout Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia, and Bithynia. But who were these strangers? Commentators are divided. Some think they were Jews who had been carried out of their country in divers revolutions under Tiglath Pileser, Shalman- eser, Nebuchadnezzar, and Ptolemy. Others think they were the Jewish Christians who fled on account of the martyrdom of Stephen. Certain it is these Christians were stranger and probably exiles for religion. Now people of this character have special motives to gov- ern their passions. Strangers are generally very little beloved in the place of their exile. Although rational people treat them with hospitality ; though nature inspires some with respect for the wretched of every char- acter ; though piety animates some with veneration for people firm \ in their religious sentiments; yet, it must be allowed, the bulk ^ of the people usually see them with other eyes ; they envy them the air they breathe, and the earth they walk on ; they consider them as so many usurpers of their rights ; and they think that as much as exiles partake of the benefits of government and the liberty of trade, so much they retrench from the portion of the natives. Besides, the people commonly judge of merit by fortune and as fortune and banishment seldom go together, popular prejudice sel- THE NATURE AND CONTROL OF THE PASSIONS. 179 dom runs higli in favor of exiles. Jealousy views them witli a sus- picious eye, malice imputes crimes to them, injustice accuses them for public calamities we will not enlarge. Let an invio- lable fidelity to the state, an unsuspected love to government, an unreserved conformity to religion, silence accusation, and compel, so to speak, an esteem that is not natural and free. Moreover, relig- ious exiles have given up a great deal for conscience, and they must choose either to lose the reward of their former labors, or to perse- vere. A man who has only taken a few easy steps in religion, if he let loose his passions, may be supposed rational in this, his life is all of a piece. He considers present interest as the supreme good, and he employs himself wholly in advancing his present interest, he lays down a principle, he infers a consequence, and he makes sin produce all possible advantage. An abominable principle certainly, but a uniform train of principle and consequence ; a fatal advantage in a future state,, but a real advantage in the present: but such a stranger as we have described, a man banished his country for relig- ion, if he continues to gratify fleshly passions, is a contradictory creature, a sort of idiot, who is at one and the same time a martyr to vice and a martyr to virtue. He has the fatal secret of render- ing both time and eternity wretched, and arming against himself heaven and earth, God and Satan, paradise and hell. On the one hand, for the sake of religion he quits every thing dear, and re- nounces the pleasure of his native soil, the society of his friends, family connections, and every prospect of preferment and fortune ; thus he is a martyr for virtue, by this he renders the present life inconvenient, and arms against himself the world, Satan, and hell. On the other hand, he stabs the practical part of religion, violates all the sn.cred laws of austerity, retirement, humility, patience, and love, all which religion most earnestly recommends ; by so doing he be- comes a martyr for sin, renders futurity miserable, and arms against himself God, heaven, and eternity. The same God who forbade superstition and idolatry, enjoined all the virtues we have enume- rated, and prohibited every opposite vice. If men be determined to be damned, better go the broad than the narrow way. Who but a madman would attempt to go to hell by encountering the difficul- ties that lie in the way to heaven 1 2. The believers to whom Peter wrote were strangers as Chris- Hans, and therefore strangers because believers. What is the funda- mental maxim of the Christian religion ? Jesus Christ told Pilate, " My kingdom is not of this world." This is the maxim of a Chris- tian, the first great leading principle, '' his kingdom is not of this 180 JA^ES SAURIN. world ;" his happiness and misery, his elevation and depression, de- pend on nothing in this world. The first principle is the ground of the Apostle's exhortation. The passions destroy this maxim by supposing the world capable of making us happy or miserable. Kevenge supposes our honor to depend on the world, on the opinion of those idiots who have deter- mined that a man of honor ought to revenge an affront. Ambition supposes our elevation to depend on the world, that is, on the digni- ties which ambitious men idolize. Avarice supposes our riches depend on this world, on gold, silver, and estates. These are not the ideas of a Christian. His honor is not of this world, it depends on the ideas of Grod, who is a just dispenser of glory. His elevation is not of this world, it depends on thrones and crowns which God prepares. His riches are not of this world, they depend on treasures in heaven, where " thieves do not break through and steal."' It is allowable for a man educated in these great princi- ciples, but whose infirmity prevents his always thinking on them ; it is indeed allowable for a man who can not alwavs bend his mind to reflection, meditation, and elevation above the world; it is indeed allowable for such a man sometimes to unbend his mind, to amuse himself with cultivating a tulip, or embellishing his head with a crown ; but that this tulip, that this crown should seriously occupy such a man — that they should take up the principal attention of a Christian who has such refined ideas and such glorious hopes, this, this is entirely incompatible. 3. In fine, we are strangers and pilgrims by necessity of nature as mortal men. If this life were eternal, it would be a question whether it were more advantageous for man to gratify his passions than to subdue them — whether the tranquillity, the equanimity^ the calm of a man perfectly free and entirely master of himself, would not be preferable to the troubles, conflicts, and turbulence of a man in bondage to his passions. Passing this question, we will grant that were this life eternal, prudence and self-love, well understood, would require some indulgence of passion. In this case there would be an immense distance between the rich and the poor, and riches should be acquired ; there would be an immense distance between the high and the low^ and elevation should be sought ; there would be an immense distance between him who mortified his senses and him who gratified them, and sensual pleasures would be requisite. But death, death renders all these things ahke; at least it makes so little difference between the one and the other, that it is hardly discernible. The most sensible motive therefore to abate the pas- THE NATURE AND CONTROL OF THE PASSIONS. 181 sions, is death. The tomb is the best course of morality. Study- avarice in the coffin of a miser ; this is the man who accumulated, heap upon heap, riches upon riches. See a few boards inclose him and a few square inches of earth contain him. Study ambition in the grave of that enterprising man ; see his noble designs, his extensive projects, his boundless expedients are all shattered and sunk in this fatal gulf of human projects. Approach the tomb of the proud man, and there investigate pride ; see the mouth that pronounced lofty expressions, condemned to eternal silence, the piercing eyes that con- vulsed the world with fear, covered with a midnight gloom ; the for- midable arm, that distributed the destinies of mankind, without motion and life. Go to the tomb of the nobleman, and there study quality ; behold his magnificent titles, his royal ancestors, his flattering inscrip- tions, his learned genealogies, are all gone, or going to be lost with himself in the same dust. Study voluptuousness at the grave of the voluptuous; see, his senses are destroyed, his organs broken to pieces, his bones scattered at the grave's mouth, and the whole tem- ple of sensual pleasure subverted from its foundation. Here we finish this discourse. There is a great difference between this and other subjects of discussion. When we treat of a point of doctrine, it is sufficient that you hear it, and remember the conse- quences drawn from it. When we explain a difficult text, it is enough that you understand it and recollect it. When we press home a particular duty of morality, it is sufficient that you apply it to the particular circumstance to which it belongs. But what regards the passions is of universal and perpetual use. We always carry the principles of these passions within us, and we should always have assistance at hand to subdue them. Always surrounded with objects of our passions, we should always be guarded against them. We should remember these things when we see the benefits of fortune, to free ourselves from an immoderate attachment to them ; before human grandeur to despise it; before sensual objects to subdue them ; before our enemy, to forgive him ; before friends, children, and families, to hold oui'selves disengaged from them. We should always examine in what part of ourselves the passions hold their throne, whether in the mind, the senses, or the imagination, or the heart. We should always examine whether they have depraved the heart, defiled the imagination, perverted the senses, or blinded the mind. We should ever remember that we are strangers upon eojth, that to this our condition calls us, our religion invites us, and our nature compels us. But alas I It is this, it is this general influence which these ex- 182 JAMES SAURIN. hortations ought to have oyer our lives, that makes us fear we have addressed them to you in vain. When we treat of a point of doc- trine, we may persuade ourselves it has been understood. When we explain a difficult text, we flatter ourselves we have thrown some light upon it. When we urge a moral duty, we hope the next occa- sion will bring it to your memory : and yet how often have we deceived ourselves on these articles I How often have our hopes been vain ! How often have you sent us empty away, even though we demanded so little I What will be done to-day ? Who that knows a little of mankind, can flatter himself that a discourse intend- ed, in regard to a great number, to change all, to reform all, to renew all, will be directed to its true design ! But, God, there yet remains one resource, it is Thy grace, it is Thine aid, grace that we have a thousand times turned into lasciv- iousness, and which we have a thousand times rejected ; yet after all assisting grace which we most humbly venture to implore. When we approach the enemy, we earnestly beseech Thee " teach our hands to war, and our fingers to fight !" When we did attack a town, we fervently besought Thee to render it accessible to us I Our prayers entered heaven, our enemies fled before us. Thou didst bring us into the strong city, and didst lead us into Edom. The walls of many a Jericho fell at the sound of our trumpets, at the sight of Thine ark, and the approach of Thy priest : but the old man is an enemy far more formidable than the best disciplined armies, and it is harder to conquer the passions than to beat down the walls of a city I help us to subdue this old man, as Thou hast assisted us to overcome other enemies ! Enable us to triumph over our passions as Thou hast enabled us to succeed in leveling the walls of a city I Stretch out Thy holy arm in our favor, in this Church as in the field of bat- tle I So be the Protector both of the State and the Church, crown our efforts with such success that we may offer the most noble songs of praise to Thy glory. Amen. DISCOURSE FIFTY. FIFTH. ALEXANDER VINET. The " Chalmers of Switzerland," as Yinet has been styled by D'Aubigne and others, was born at Lausanne in 1797, and educated in his native town. At the early age of twenty years he was made Pro- fessor of the French language in the University of Basel, and not long after was ordaiaed at Lausanne; where, in 1837, he was appointed Professor of Theology in the Institution where he had been educated. Li this office he remained till the tune of his death, the 4th of May, 1847. Vinet was a champion of evangelical orthodoxy, a brilHant preacher, a profound philosopher, and an ardent Christian. Many of his dis- courses and essays were translated into English in this country, some years since, by the Rev. R. Turnbull, D.D., and have obtained a wide popularity. A critic has said of these discourses, " We scarcely know whether to praise most the briUiancy of the author, or of the translator." Mr. Chase, in his " Modern French Literature," says of Yinet's works, " They unite the extensive erudition and elevated ^dews which character- ize the writers beyond the Rhiae with the charms of style, the exquisite Atticism^ which belong to the winters of France." He adds that ''no master of the French language, skice the days of Pascal, has presented a more jjerfect combination of high inellectual and moral endowments." The following discourse is worthy of Yinet's reputation. A paragraph in the beginning, with reference to a previous discourse, is omitted. THE MYSTERIES OF CHRISTIAISTITY. "Things which have not entered into the heart of man." — 1 COR. ii. 9. " I do not comprehend, therefore I do not believe." " The Gos- pel is full of mysteries, therefore I do not receive the Gospel :" — Such is one of the favorite arguments of infidelity. To see how much is made of this, and what confidence it inspires, we might believe it solid, or, at least, specious ; but it is neither the one nor the 184 ALEXANDER YINET. other ; it will not bear the slightest attention, the most superficial examination of reason ; and if it still enjoys some favor in the world, this is but a proof of* the lightness of our judgments upon things w^orthj of our most serious attention. Upon what, in fact, does this argument rest ? Upon the claim of comprehending every thing in the religion which God has offered or could offer us. A claim equally unjust^ unreasonable^ useless. This w^e proceed to develop. 1. In the first place, it is an unjust claim. It is to demand of God what He does not owe us. To prove this, let us suppose that God has given a religion to man, and let us further suppose that religion to be the Gospel : for this absolutely changes nothing to the argu- ment. We may believe that God was free, at least, with reference to us, to give us or not to give us a religion ; but it must be admit- ted that in granting it He contracts engagements to us, and that the first favor laj's Him under a necessity of conferring other favors. For this is merely to say that God must be consistent, and that He finishes what He has begun. Since it is by a written revelation He manifests His designs respecting us, it is necessary He should fortify that revelation by all the authority which would at least determine IIS to receive it ; it is necessary He should give us the means of judging whether the men who speak to us in His name are really sent by Him ; in a word, it is necessary we should be assured that the Bible is truly the word of God. It would not indeed be necessary that the conviction of each of us should be gained by the same kind of evidence. Some shall be led to Christianity by the historical or external arguments ; they shall prove to themselves the truth of the Bible as the truth of all history is proved ; they shall satisfy themselves that the books of which it is composed are certainly those of the times and of the authors to which they are ascribed. This settled, they shall com- pare the prophecies contained in these ancient documents with the events that have happened in subsequent ages ; they shall assure themselves of the reality of the miraculous facts related in these books, and shall thence infer the necessary intervention of Divine power, which alone disposes the forces of nature, and can alone in- terrupt or modify their action. Others, less fitted for such investiga- tions, shall be struck with the internal evidence of the Holy Scrip- tures. Finding there the state of their souls perfectly described, their wants fully expressed, and the true remedies for their maladies com- pletely indicated ; struck with a character of truth and candor which nothing can imitate ; in fine, feeling themselves in their inner THE MYSTERIES OF CHRISTIANITY. 185 nature moved, changed, renovated, by tlie mysterious influence of tTiese Holy Writings, they shall acquire, by such means, a conviction of which they can not always give an account to others, but which is not the less legitimate, irresistible, and immovable. Such is the double road by which an entrance is gained into the asylum of faith. But it was due from the wisdom of God, from His justice, and, we venture to say it, from the honor of His government, that He should open to man this double road ; for, if He desired man to be saved by knowledge, on the same principle He engaged Himself to furnish him the means of knowledge. Behold, whence come the obligations of the Deity with reference to us — which obligations He has fulfilled. Eater on this double method of proof. Interrogate history, time and places, respecting the authenticity of the Scriptures ; grasp all the dif&culties, sound all the objections ; do not permit yourselves to be too easily con- vinced ; be the more severe upon that book, as it professes to contain the sovereign rule of your life, and the disposal of your destiny ; you are permitted to do this, nay, you are encouraged to do it, pro- vided you proceed to the investigation with the requisite capacities and with pure intentions. Or, if you prefer another method, exam- ine, with an honest heart, the contents of the Scriptures ; inquire, while you run over the words of Jesus, if ever man spake like this Man; inquire if the wants of your soul, long deceived, 'and the anxieties of your spirit, long cherished in vain, do not, in the teach- ing and work of Christ, find that satisfaction and repose which no wisdom was ever able to procure you ; breathe, if I may thus ex- press myself, that perfume of truth, of candor and purity, which ex- hales from every page of the Gospel ; see, if, in all these respects, it does not bear the undeniable seal of inspiration and divinity. Finally, test it, and if the Gospel produces upon you a contrary effect, return to the books and the wisdom of men, and ask of them what Christ has not been able to give you. But if, neglecting these two ways, made accessible to you, and trodden by the feet of ages, you desire, before all, that the Christian religion should, in every point, render itself comprehensible to your mind, and complacently strip itself of all mysteries ; if you wish to penetrate beyond the vail, to find there, not the ahment which gives life to the soul, but that which would gratify your restless curiosity, I maintain that you raise against God a claim the most indiscreet, the most rash and unjust; for He has never engaged, either tacitly or expressly, to discover to you the secret which your eye craves ; and such audacious importunity is fit only to excite His indignation. He has given jou idiafe He ow^ toUj more indeed ^lan He OTfod Tou: — l2ie nesl ^ ts^sL Himsel£ If a e!aii!i sd xmjn^ coiild he adoaitted, wlisej I ask too, would be l3ie Emit of tout deiQaiids ? Already yon leqioie Hiose :&oaa €h>d than He lias aasoided to angels: fa-^^ae Vernal mjsleoes TrMdi tFonMe yoxi — the haimony of thQ Divine pr^d^ence Xfi^i hnr man fee^icm — Ihe ongin of evil and its inel^Me r^nedv — the in- carnation of the eternal TTobd — the lelatians of the God-man iritb. his Father — Ihe atoning Tiitne of BSs ssued^oe — ^e le^nerai^ng emcciev of the Spirit-iXHnfoner — aM these thin^ are seciels, the knowledge of whidi is hidden :&OHi angels then^ebres, whoj^ aceoid- ing io lie word of &e AposSej sfeoop tD esploie their depths, and can noi. If you lejHoach die Eternal fc haTiog kept tbe knowledge of these Birine ^mysteries to Hmiself^ why do yon not lepioaeh Whn &r tlie iJioTisand other limits He has pr^mbed to yon? W hy nofe ieproac3i Him &a* not hayiog given you wings like a hirdj to t^I the lepo^is which, tiH now, have been s!anBed only by yonr eyes ? Wiy HOT reproach Him fer not giving yon, besdes ^e nre senss with which yon aie provided, ten other ^nses whieli He has per- haps granted ro other ereatni^ and which proeme for them j^iv3^ tions of which yon haTe no idea ? THiy not, in nne, leproadi Hrm &r having cansed the daiknes of night to succeed the bii^ls^^ of day iuTariably on ihe earth ? Ah ? yon do not reproach Sm lor thst. You lore that night whidi biings lesl to so many :^tigaed bodies and weary spirits ; which suspends, in so many wiets^iesj, ^e feehng of grief: — that nigh% during whidi oiphanSj slaves, and ciiminals cease lo Ire, because oxer aH their misSarlunes and sufeiings it spieadsj wiih the opiate of sieep^ ih^ thick Tail of oblivion; yon love thai night which, peopHng the deserts of ^e heavens with, t^i tiiou^ffid ST-aiS; not known to the day, reveals the inOnite to our laT- ished imagination. Well, then, why do yon no^ fer a similar reason, love the ni^t of divine mysteri^ — night, gracaous and salutary, in whidi reason humbles itself and finds refeshment and repo^^: where the da2k> ne^ even is a revelation ; where one of the pmw^al attribute of God, immensity, discovers itself much more fialiy to our loind* where^ in fine, the tender relations He has permitled us to :S>rm^ wi^ Himself aie guarded fern all admistui^ of :^miliaiity br the thought ^at the Being who has humbled Him^f to ns^ is, at &e Eame time, the inconceivable God who reigns be&re all time, who includes in Himself all ezdstenees and aU condij^ons of esislenees THE HTSTEBIES 09 CHBISTIAXIT Y. 187 t3^ center of all ^longli^ the law of all law, the supreme and ^nal reason of ereiy thiiig! So thai, if jon are just, instead of reproach- ing TfiTin for the seer^s of reli^on, you will bl^ TTrni that He has enveloped jou in mysteriiffi. 2. Bnt this disam. is not ooalj unjust toward Gt)d ; it is also in jjaftlf exceedin^T urtreasondtHe^, Wliat is religion ? It is God putting Himself in oommnnication wi^ niaTi : flie Creator widi tiie creatore. the infinite witli the £nite. There already, wifhont going furtlier, is a mystery ; a mystery com- mon to all religioas^ impeneliable in aH, religions. If liien, every thing winch is a mystiMy o€^ds yon, yon are arrested on the threshold, I will not say of Ghrisdanity, bnt of every religion ; I say, even of i3aai, religion which is called naJUtral, because it rejects revelation and miracles : for it neoe^arily implies, afe the very least, a eoz^zeeiion, a commnnication of some sort between God and man — the contrary being equivalent to atheism. Your claim prevents you Ttom. having any belief; and because you have not been will- ing to be Ghristaans^ it wiU not s^w vou to be Deists. '■ It is of no consequence," you say, ^- we pass over that dififU cully ; we suppose between God and us connections we can not con- ceive ; we admit th^n because ihey are necesaiy to ns. But this is the oii]y step we are willing to take : we hiive already yielded too much to yield more." Say more — say you have granted too mnch B : : to giant much more, not to grant all ! Yon have consented to admit, witbont comprehending it, that &ere may be commnnica- tions ^m God to you, and &om you to God. But consider well what is implied in such a supposition. It imphes that yon are de- pendeiLi, and yet fee — this you do not comprehend; — it implies ^lat the Spirit of God can make itself understood by your spidt — 1h^ yon do not ccnnprehend ; — it impli^ tiiat your prayers may ex- ert an inSui^ioe on the wfll of God — this you do not oompr^end. It is nece^ary you should receive aU these mystezies, in ord» to establish with Grod connections the most vague and superficial, and by ^le very side of which atheism is placed. And whoi, by a powerful e^ort with yourselves yon have done so much as to admit these mysteries, you recoil fern those of Christianity ! You have accepted the :&)undaiion, and reftise tiie sr^yerstructure ! You have accepted the princaple and refuse the details ! You are ngtt no donbt. so soon as it is proved to yon, that the religion which con- tains these mystedes does not come fern Gk)d ; or rather, that these mysteries contain contxadictozy ideas. But you are not justified in denying than, fiir the sole reason that you do not understand them ; 188 ALEXANDER YINET. and tlie reception you have given to the first kind of mysteries com- pels you, by the same rule, to receive the others. This is not all. Not only are mysteries an inseparable part, nay, the very substance of all religion, but it is absolutely impossible that a true religion should not present a great number of mysteries. K it is true, it ought to teach more truths respecting God and Divine things than any other, than all others together ; but each of these truths has a relation to the infinite, and by consequence borders on a mystery. How should it be otherwise in religion, when it is thus in nature itself? Behold God in nature ! The more He gives us to contemplate, the more He gives to astonish us. To each creature is attached some mystery. A grain of sand is an abyss ! Now, if the manifestation which God has made of Himself in nature suggests to the observer a thousand questions which can not be answered, how will it be, when to that first revelation, another is added ; when God the Creator and Preserver reveals Himself under new aspects as God the Eeconciler and Saviour ? Shall not mysteries multiply with dis- coveries ? With each new day shall we not see associated a new night ? And shall we not purchase each increase of knowledge with an increase of ignorance ? Has not the doctrine of grace, so neces- sary, so consoling, alone opened a profound abyss, into which, for eighteen centuries, rash and restless spirits have been constantly plunging ? It is, then, clearly necessary that Christianity should, more than any other religion, be mysterious, simply because it is true. Like mountains, which, the higher they are, cast the larger shadows, the Gospel is the more obscure and mysterious on account of its sublim- ity. After this, will you be indignant that you do not comprehend every thing in the Gospel ? It would, forsooth, be a truly surpris- ing thing if the ocean could not be held in the hollow of your hand, or uncreated wisdom within the limits of your intelligence! It would be truly unfortunate if a finite being could not embrace the infinite, and that, in the vast assemblage of things there should be some idea beyond its grasp ! In other words, it would be truly unfortunate if God Himself should know something which man does not know I Let us acknowledge, then, how insensate is such a claim when it is made with reference to religion. But let us also recollect how much, in making such a claim we shall be in opposition to ourselves ; for the submission we dislike in religion, we cherish in a thousand other things. It happens to us every day to admit things we do not understand, and to do so with- THE MYSTERIES OF CHRISTIANITY. 189 out the least repugnance. The things, the knowledge of which is refused ns, are much more numerous than we perhaps think. Few diamonds are perfectly pure ; still fewer truths are perfectly clear. The union of our soul with our body is a mystery — our most famil- iar emotions and affections are a mystery — ^the action of thought and of will is a mystery — our very existence is a mystery. Why do we admit these various facts ? Is it because we understand them ? No, certainly, but because they are self-evident, and because they are truths by which we live. In rehgion we have no other course to take. We ought to know whether it is true and necessary ; and once convinced of these two points, we ought, like the angels, to Bubmit to the necessity of being ignorant of some things. And why do we not submit cheerfully to a privation which, after all, is not one? 3. To desire the knowledge of mysteries is to desire what is utterly useless ; it is to raise, as I have said before, a claim the most vain and idle. What, in reference to us is the object of the Gospel ? Evidently to regenerate and save us. But it attains this end wholly by the things it reveals. Of what use would it be to know those it conceals from us ? We possess the knowledge which can enlighten our consciences, rectify our inclinations, renew our hearts; what should we gain if we possessed other knowledge ? It infinitely con- cerns us to know that the Bible is the word of God ; does it equally concern us to know in what way the holy men that wrote it were moved by the Holy Ghost ? It is of infinite moment to us to know that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, need we know precisely in what way the Divine and human natures are united in His adorable per- son ? It is of infinite importance for us to know that unless we are born again we can not enter the kingdom of God, and that the Holy Spirit is the Author of the new birth — shall we be further advanced if we know the Divine process by which that wonder is performed ? Is it not enough for us to know the truths that save ? Of what use, then, would it be to know those which have not the slightest bearing on our salvation? *' Though I know all mysteries," says St. Paul, '' and have not charity, I am nothing." St. Paul was content not to know, provided he had charity ; shall not we, following his example, be content also without knowledge, provided that, hke him, we have charity, that is to say, life ? But some one will say " K the knowledge of mysteries is really without influence on our salvation, why have they been indicated to us at all ?" What if it should be to teach us not to be too prodigal of our wherefores I if it should be to serve as an exercise of our 190 ALEXANDER YINET. faith, a test of our submission ! But we will not stop with, sucli a reply. Observe, I pray you, in what manner the mysteries of which you complain have taken their part in religion. You readily perceive they are not by themselves, but associated with truths which, have a direct bearing on your salvation. They contain them, they serve to envelop them ; but they are not themselves the truths that save. It is with these mysteries as it is with the vessel that contains a medicinal draught— it is not the vessel that cures, but the draught ; yet the draught could not be presented without the vessel. Thus each truth that saves is contained in a mystery, which, in itself, has no 2:)ower to save. So the great work of expiation is necessarily attached to the incarnation of the Son of God, which is a mystery ; so the sanc- tifying graces of the new covenant are necessarily connected with the effluence of the Holy Spirit, which is a mystery ; so, too, the divinity of religion finds a seal and an attestation in the miracles, which are mysteries. Every where the light is born from darkness, and darkness accompanies the light. These two orders of truths are so united, so interlinked, that you can not remove the one without the other, and each of the mysteries you attempt to tear from relig- ion would carry with it one of the truths Avhich bear directly on your regeneration and salvation. Accept the mysteries, then, not as truths that can save you, but as the necessary conditions of the merciful work of the Lord in your behalf The true point at issue in reference to religion is this : — ^Does the religion which is proposed to us, change the heart, unite to God, pre- pare for heaven? If Christianity produces these effects, we will leave the enemies of the cross free to revolt against its mysteries, and tax them with absurdity. The Gospel, we will say to them, is then an absurdity ; you have discovered it. But behold what a new species of absurdity that certainly is which attaches man to all his duties, regulates human life better than all the doctrines of sages, plants in his bosom harmony, order, and peace, causes him joyfully to fulfill all the offices of civil life, renders him better fitted to live, better fit- ted to die, and which, were it generally received, would be the sujoport and safeguard of society I Cite to us, among all human absurdities, a single one which produces such effects. If that " foolishness" we preach produces effects like these, is it not natural to conclude that it is truth itself? And if these things have not entered the heart of man, it is not because they are absurd, but because they are Divine. Make, my readers, but a single reflection. You are obliged to confess that none of the religions which man may invent can satisfy THE MYSTERIES OF CHRISTIANITY. 191 his wants, or save his soiil. Thereupon you have a choice to make. You will either reject them all as insufficient and false, and seek for nothing better, since man can not invent better, and then you will abandon to chance, to caprice of temperament or of opinion, your moral life and future destiny ; or you will adopt that other religion which some treat as folly, and it will render you holy and pure, blameless in the midst of a perverse generation, united to God by love, and to your brethren by charity, indefatigable in doing good, happy in life, happy in death. Suppose, after all this, you shall be told that this religion is false ; but, meanwhile, it has restored in you the image of God, re-established your primitive connections with that great Being, and put you in a condition to enjoy life and the happiness of heaven. By means of it you have become such that at the last day, it is impossible that God should not receive you as His children and make you partakers of His glory. You are made fit for paradise, nay, paradise has commenced for you even here, be- cause you love. This religion has done for you what all religion proposes, and what no other has realized. Nevertheless, by the sup- position, it is false I And what more could it do, were it true ? Eather do you not see that this is a splendid proof of its truth ? Do you not see that it is impossible that a religion which leads to God should not come from God, and that the absurdity is precisely that of supposing that you can be regenerated by a falsehood ? Suppose that afterward, as at the first, you do not comprehend. It seems necessary, then, you should be saved by the things you do not comprehend. Is that a misfortune ? Are you the less saved ? Does it become you to demand from God an explanation of an ob- scurity which does not injure you, when, with reference to every thing essential, He has been prodigal of light ? The first disciples of Jesus, men without culture and learning, received truths which they did not comprehend, and spread them through the world. A crowd of sages and men of genius have received, from the hands of these poor people, truths which they comprehended no more than they. The ignorance of the one, and the science of the other, have been equally docile. Do, then, as the ignorant and the wise have done. Embrace with affection those truths which have never entered into your heart, and which will save you. Do not lose, in vain dis- cussions, the time which is gliding away, and which is bearing you into the cheering or appalling light of eternity. Hasten to be saved. Love now ; one day you will know. May the Lord Jesus prepare you for that period of light, of repose, and of happiness ! ktit\ 0f t|e ^tQitisii litlgit. THE SCOTTISH PULPIT. The history of the Scottish pulpit naturally divides itself into three periods: first, that between the Reformation and the Revolution in 1689; second, that between the Revolution and the ecclesiastical Dis- ruption in 1843 ; and third, the modern period, or that from the Disrup- tion to the present time. Previous to the time of the Reformation, the pulpit in Scotland, hke that of other countries in Europe, was prostrate. The preacher had been supplanted by the priest, and the pulpit demoUshed to make way for the altar. Teachers of the true faith, probably as early as the last of the second century, had there instructed the people. The Culdees, or refugee-servants-of-God, as their name seems to imply, had early fled from persecution, and certainly, as soon as the sixth century, had made the island of lona their home, and the seat of their Christian influence. Here they prosecuted their ministry, first among the warlike Scots and Picts, and then among the pagan Saxons, with no little success. But they soon began to melt away before the encroachments of the Roman pontiff, to whom they yielded up their spiritual Uberty in 1176, and, a century later, were finally suppressed. Thenceforward the reign of popery was complete. Scotland was a rich inheritance of the see of Rome. Half the kingdom belonged to the clergy. From the power of the priesthood it is easy to estimate the power of the pulpit. It was imbecile for good. Gorged with wealth, reveling in luxury and sensual indulgence, what cared the clergy for things spu'itual ? Had they possessed the disposition to reform the people, they had lacked the power, from ignorance. Even the bishops knew little of the Scriptures. " I thank God," said the Bishop of Dun- keld, " that I have Hved well these many years, and never knew either the Old or the New Testament." The chief care of the ministry was to preserve unbroken the spell of darkness that bound the whole nation. And they had long 'been successful. An act of the Scottish Parliament in 1525, prohibiting the importation of Luther's writings, alleged that that country had always " bene clene of aU sic filth and vice !" But that is a long night which knows no dawn. The very act re- ferred to is suggestive. It proved the uprising of a better day. The doctrines of the Culdees furnished points of connection for those of the 196 THE SCOTTISH PULPIT. Reformation. The disciples of Wickliffe and Huss make their appear- ance. Patrick Hamilton steps forward ; and, later still, George Wishart, and others of kindred spirit. In vain the demon of persecution rears his bloody head. The brazen ball with which the mouth of Paul Craw is stopped, that he preach not while burning at the stake, does not silence the voice which speaks when one is dead. The flames that blaze around the body of the brilliant young Hamilton are but the emblem atic response of his dying interrogation — " How long, O Lord, shall darkness cover this realm ?" The sounding trumpet that gives signal to kindle the pile in the midst of which stands the mild, the gentle, the ]3atient, the eloquent Wishart, is but the symbol of the trumpet voice of the prophetic angel, whose everlasting Gospel is about to be proclaimed throughout the whole kingdom. The lion-souled Knox rises up, full armed and equipped, as from the dust of his martyred brethren. His words of thimder send consterna- tion among the kmg's enemies. The God of Israel is by his side. He raises uj^ helpers, and makes strong their arms. Great is their success. Images, altars, rehcs, shrines are broken in pieces, and, in some cases, religious houses, in order that, to use their own energetic terms, " by jDulhng down the nests, the rooks might all fly away." Never was a work more thorough and complete. Scarcely a vestige of the " auld scarlet mither" is left to flaunt in the au\ High and low, rich and poor, come under the strange influence. The dust is brushed from ofi" the long-neglected Bible ; the schools are opened ; forgotten tongues give forth di\dne and human learning ; and prmces and cities are seen " trooping apace to the new-erected banner of salvation." Li 1560, notwithstanding the work of reform had encountered the fiercest opposition from the papists, the Scottish Parliament formally abrogated and annulled the papal jurisdiction ; and m 1592, by an Act of Parliament, the Protestant religion — embodied according to the Articles of John Knox — was established, and taken under the protec- tion and patronage of the State. And how was this mighty change effected ? Pre-eminently, under God, by the 2>^^h^^i- Of books there were then hut few. Of modem forms and agencies for advancing the Gospel, there were none. Preach- ing was almost the sole instrumentaUty. If, then, "^e were to character- ize in one word the pulpit of the Scottish Keformers, we would give to 'it the attribute of power. Not of finish ; nox of beauty ; not of rhetorical perfection ; but of strength^ solidity^ pouer ; fitly symbolized in the real old six-sided pulpit of John Knox, still prcserved in a museum at Edinburg, made of solid oak. But fearful stoims were about to beat upon that tower of strength, and put to the test the basis upon which it reposed. The seventeenth century had but just opened when efforts were made, by I^ng James, to enforce episcopacy upon the churches. During this century it was THE SCOTTISH PULPIT. 197 twice declared to be the established religion. This gave rise to struggles for its resistance, by the clergy and the people, which, for incidents of thrilling interest and sublime importance, are almost with- out a parallel. Those incidents can not be here minutely narrated. The proroguing, by the king, of the meethigs of the Presbyterian Assembly ; the ejection fi'om their pulpits and their livings of such ministers as could not in conscience conform to the new regime^ believing it to be essentially papal, though professedly prelatic ; their cruel imprisonments ; their inhuman slaughter in conflicts arising out of the assertion of their rights ; the temporary reUef by the accession of Cromwell to the British throne; the bUghting of cherished expectations by the accession of Charles the Second in 1660 : his efforts to overturn the whole work of the Reformation ; the driving to the fields of godly ministers who per- sisted in preaching when expelled from their pulpits ; the terrible en- ginery of persecution brought to bear in the " killing time,'" beginning with the year 1684 ; the shght relief by the death of Charles ; and finally the hapjDy termination of the series of outrages and wi'ongs by the Revolution in 1688, when the fate of the House of Stuart was sealed, and the good William and Mary came to the throne — all these events are but a small part of the shifting scene that made up the wonderful drama of Scottish history dm'ing the period of which we speak, and contributed to give form to the preaching of the times. It is computed that eighteen thousand people suffered death, or the utmost hardships, for their relig- ion, during this period, hundreds of whom were ministers. About five thousand were murdered in cold blood. There is one event, however, which must not be passed without special mention ; it is the subscribing of the Covenant, at Edinbm-g, in the year 1638. It has been remarked with truth, that never, except among God's peculiar people, the Jews, did any national transaction equal, in moral and religious sublimity, that which was displayed by Scotland on the great day of her national Covenant. The event is that described by Mr. Alton, in his life of Henderson. " The Presbyterians had crowded to Edinburg to the number of sixty thousand, and on the 28th of February a fast had been appointed in the Grey Friars' Church. Long before the appointed hour, the venerable church and the large open space around it were filled with Presbyte- rians from every quarter of Scotland. At two o'clock Rothes, Loudon, Henderson, Dickson, and Johnston arrived with a copy of the Cove- nant ready for signature. Henderson constituted the meeting by prayer 'verrie powerfuUie and pertinentlie' to the purpose on hand. The Covenant was read by Johnston, ' out of a fair parchment about an elne squair.' When the reading was finished, there was a pause, and silence still as death. Rothes broke it by requesting that if any of them had objections to offer he would now be heard. ' Few come, and these few proposed but few doubts, which were soon resolved.' The vener- 198 THE SCOTTISH PULPIT. able Earl of Sutherland stepped forward, and put tlie first name to the memorable document. After it had gone the round of the whole church, it was taken out to be signed by the crowd in the church-yard. Here it was spread before them like another roll of the prophets, upon a flat gravestone,* to be read and subscribed by as many as could get near it. Many in addition to their name wrote ' till deaths'' and some even opened a vein and subscribed with their blood. The immense sheet, m a short time became so much crowded with names on both sides, and throughout its whole space, that there was not room left for a single additional signature. Zeal in the cause of Christ, and courage for the liberties of Scotland, warmed every breast. Joy was mingled with the exj^ressions of some, and the voice of shouting arose from a few. But by far the greater number were deeply impressed with very different feehngs. Most of them of all sorts wept bitterly for their de- fection from the Lord. And in testimony of his sincerity, every one confirmed his subscription by a solemn oath. With groans, and tears streaming down then* faces, they all Hfted up their right hands at once. When this awfid appeal was made to the Searcher of hearts at the day of judgment, so great was the fear of agam breaking the Covenant, that thousands of arms which had never trembled, even when dra^ving the sword on the eve of battle, were now loosened at every joint. After the oath had been admhiistered, the people were powerfully enjoined to begin their personal reformation. At the conclusion, every body seemed to feel that a great measure of the Divine presence had accompanied the solcnniities of the day, and with their hearts much comforted and strengthened for every duty, the enormous crowd retired about nine at night." Copies of this Covenant w^ere immediately sent to all parts of the kingdom, and before the end of April, there were few parishes of Scot- land where it had not been signed by nearly all of competent age and character ; thus making it truly a national Covenant. As ah'eady intimated, the events of the period under review did much to give tone and character to the Scottish pulpit. The introduc- tion of prelacy brought with it no sfight modification of doctrine ; so that instead of bearing the type of the creed of the great Reformer, pubhc instruction now took the form, to a great extent, of Arminius. Especially the younger portion of the Scottish prelates emulated Laud in promulgating these sentiments, and denouncmgthe stiff tenets of the Presbyterians. And their discourses were generally the diiest and most pedantic productions imaginahle. The papal leaven had, also, been widely diffused ; and what w^as still more deplorable, if possible, the fives of many of the prelatic ministers became corrupt, and their gross immoralities were a scandal to the sacred profession. Never- theless, m some parts of the kmgdom, and especially at particular inter- * The identical grave-stone is still shown in Grey Friars' Church, Edmburg.— £'d THE SCOTTISH PULPIT. ;|^99 vals, a pure Gospel was preached, aud piety flourislied. For the con- cealed papacy, notwithstanding it came with royal authority and power, was, as we have seen, stoutly resisted. The act of Jenny Geddes, in hurhng at the head of the surphced dean in St. Giles, the stool on which she had been sitting near by, when he began to read the Liturgy, with the exclamation, " Villain ! dost thou say mass at my lug ?" was indicative of the stuff of which the bone and sinew of the Scottish peo- ple were made. Indeed the very persecutions to which the Presbyterians were sub- jected, wi'ought into their preaching some of the very best elements. They conspired to render them holy men, and enkindle their zeal for God and the truth. Add to this that they often preached with the ex- pectation of a sudden surprise by their enemies, or of a legal arrest, and perhaps a summary conviction and death, and we can readily imagiae the character of their preaching. Earnestness and tender concern for their flocks were the prevailing features. They were times that tried men's souls. The preachers spoke with bold and fervid eloquence, as standing upon the confines of the other world, and perhaps for the last time addressing their fellow-mortals, whose blood, with their's, might soon mingle on the trodden heath. The places, too, often inspii'ed the sub- limest sentiments. Driven out from their sanctuaries, the broad fields, arched by the canopy of heaven, were the temples of their devotions. There, in sight of upland moors, and frowning crags, and majestic mount- ains, and the clear or threatening skies, these servants of the Most High declared His messages, as in His very sight. We are not called upon to endorse every tenet and every act of the famous old Covenanters. They particularly erred in confounding things civil and things sacred. But they were men of conscience, men of prayer, men of deep piety, men of courage and an unfaltering faith ; and fearlessly, earnestly, affectionately, faithfully did they preach the word. All honor to the self-sacrificing spirit, the zeal, the valor, the spii'itual championship of men who could say with Henderson, " We can die, but we can not forswear ourselves, and be false traitors to Christ !" The way in which the Covenanters conducted their worship, when it was unmolested in their sanctuaries, must be sketched, especially as it obtained fi'om the time of the Reformation, and, with some shght modi- fication, has continued in the Scottish Presbyterian churches. Immedi- ately on entering the pulpit, the minister kneeled down and began with prayer, the people generally kneehng also. It was customary, at some part of the service, to repeat the Lord's Prayer and the Doxology ; but in other respects the worship was unfettered by forms, the officiating minister guiding the devotions of his flock, as Justin Martyr describes those of the primitive Chiistians, " according to his ability, without a prompter." Prayer being ended, the congregation joined in singing a 200 THE SCOTTISH PULPIT. portion of the Psalms — a part of the service in which they took great delight, and in which they were so well instructed that many of them could sing without the aid of a Psalm-book. The Psalm being sung, the minister offered up another short prayer, and then followed the ser- mon, which, having been succeeded by prayer and praise, the congrega- tion were dismissed with the Apostolic blessing.* We come, now, to the second period of the history of the Scottish pul- pit; namely, that which falls between the Revolution in 1688 and the gi*eat disruption in 1 843. Persecution had been brought to an end by the accession of William and Mary. The Act of Security, in 1V07, effectually precluded direct interference on the part of the British Parliament with the Scottish Churches. But though delivered from outward molestation, the churches were destined to be subjected to an ordeal still more severe. Their appointed leaders were not adequate to the trial. The pulj^it was sorely damaged. For the next century it displays more of learning and culture, but less of soundness and unanimity, in its instructions. It was the age of defections and internal dissensions. Faithful and earnest preachers there were ; and the number of such was gi'eatly augmented by the glorious revivals with which the churches were blessed, about the middle and at the conclusion of the eighteenth century. But it would seem these refi*eshings were vouchsafed that, by sipping of the brook by the way, the faithful might not become quite faint-hearted and exhausted ; just as God has always been wont to revive anew the sacred life among His people before a season of searching trial. These and a few other bright spots in the history of the times, do but the more clearly reveal the dark background upon which they appear. The high-souled, martyr spirit of the previous centuries rapidly declined. The preaching, as a whole, lacked the strength and vigor of former days. Still more did it lack the clear and forcible enunciation of those sublime doctrines which were hurled, ^vith such effect, by the Reformers and Covenanters against the hoary battlements of supersition and iniquity. The causes which led to this decline in the power of the Scottish pulpit have been, in part, already intimated. The grand germinal source was the union of the Church with the State ; the injurious results of which early began to be developed. To mention nothing else, this imnatural al- liance superinduced, and finally grafted upon, the clerical office, attention to worldly pursuits. The minister in each parish came to be the organ of communication between his people and the governme7it — and the conse- quent exactions and sersdces of a secular nature impinged upon the study, and T\athdrew the pastor from prayer and the ministry of the word.f More- over the soft and effeminate style of preaching, so common, at the time in England, began to be adopted by the Scottish divines ; an influence greatly extended by the large number of those who, either openly, or at =^ M'Crie's History of the Church of Scotland, p. 248. \ See Chalmers' Sermon on The Christian Ministry Secularized. THE SCOTTISH PULPIT. 201 heart, favored the views of the EngHsh Church. The unhappy ecclesias- tical controversies of the time affected injuriously the pulpit. The cele- brated " Marrow Controversy" arose upon the repubhcation of Edward Fisher's book, by James Hog, minister of Carnock, in 1714, under the title of " Marrow of Modern Divinity ;" the main point of dispute being as to whether the views inculcated were a fair exposition of the doctrines of grace, or whether, on the other hand, they tended to relax the obK- gations to holiness, and cherish a spirit of Antinomianism. Controversies arose, and at length divisions, as to the lawfulness or unlawfulness of the Burgher's oath, when taken by a Dissenter. Other troubles origmated in attempts to discipline a class of Dissenters, known as Society-men, or Gamer onians^ who joined issue with the Church, mainly from its connec- tion with the State ; and others still about the matter oi patronage. The preaching of Arminian and Pelagian doctrines by some of the ministers became also a ground of division, as to sentiment and legitimate action. Differences of opinion, having their origin in other sources, need not be instanced. It can not be questioned that these unfortunate controver- sies, though often conducted in a Christian spirit, greatly weakened the power of the pulpit. It became too often, like the platform of the As- sembhes, the arena ot debate ; which diverted its influence, and relaxed its energies for good. The prevalence of " Moderatism" also contributed directly and powerfully to the decline of pulpit power. This system had its origin in the combination which early took place, between the indulged minis- ters and the prelatic incumbents, who were introduced into the Chm'ch by the " Comprehension Scheme" of King William. The perfidious act of 1714, reimposing patronage, gave it growth and strength. This system early showed itself favorable to laxity of discipline and doctrine. Heresy excited fi-om it Httle attention ; the doctrines of grace, as held after the pattern of the Reformers, were condemned ; and, at length, it boldly de- clared its principles to be worldly, and sought even to aboUsh the sub- scnption to the Confession of Faith ; besides opposing the extension of the Gospel at home, and prohibiting efforts to send it abroad. This sys- tem, at times, was wholly in the ascendency, and most dreary was its reign. Vital godUness declined ; the remonstrances of faithful ministers were repressed, and themselves were, almost of necessity, driven out of the Church, while those who were heterodox and immoral were pro- tected.* As a consequence, the pulpit became almost powerless. The preaching was legal and spiritless. Sermons became Uttle else than care- fully written essays, in exposition and support of an unproved system of morality, styled the reHgion of the Gospel. Such was the state of things, generally, at the close of the eighteenth century. The brilliant exceptions in the persons of such men as Erskine, Hunter, Davidson, Balfour, Freebairn, Johnstone, Nisbet and a few * See Hetherington's History of the Church of Scotland, vol. ii. pp. 362-3. 202 THE SCOTTISH PULPIT. Others, were but " the scattered stars that faintly break the gloom of a chill and misty night." In 1798, the eccentric, but earnest and godly Rowland HiU, visited Scotland, and upon his return pubhshed an extended statement, perhaps exaggerated, if not erroneous in some few particulars, concerning the state of rehgion and the kind of preaching in Scotland. In this statement he says, " The dispensation of mercy to fallen man by Jesus Christ is not the subject preached by the majority ; but with some, a mangled Gospel, law and Gospel spliced together ; with others, a mere hungry system of bare-weight morality ; and with a third, what is still worse, a deliberate attack on all the truths they have engaged to uphold." " The cause of morality declines with the cause of the Gospel ; and I fear the Scots, by far the best educated and best behaved people in the British dominions, will soon be no better than their neighbors." About the opening of the nineteenth century there was a decided declhie of " Moderatism," which, with the great religious awakenings under Whitefield and others, that then occurred, contributed much to the elevation and strength of the pulpit. The earnest efforts of Andrew Thompson and Thomas Chalmers, and a few others, with the missionary mo\'ements of Dr. Duff, and the pubhcation, by Dr. M'Crie, of the " Life of John Knox," and finally the revivals of the churches in the years of 1839 and 1840, exerted a decided influence in the same diiection. One event, however, was yet necessary to the highest power of the Scottish pulpit. It is that which opens the thii'd great era in its history. We refer, of course, to the disruption in the national body, and the formation of the " Free Church of Scotland." Occasional secessions, from a variety of causes, had already taken place. Indeed the re- establishmcnt of the Presbyterian form of Church government in 1690, in sG\'cral of its features, was condemned by some of the leading spirits of the day.* But it was not until about the year 1830 that the la^vful- ncss of a civil estabhshment of rehgion, in the form of a national Church, assumed the grave aspect of pubUc controversy. From that time the advocates of the voluntary principle greatly increased in number and in- fluence. Matters were fast approaching a crisis. The civil and the ec- clesiastical courts were perpetually coming into collision. The strugcrles on the part of the Church to maintain her dignity and spirituality, and the supremacy of her glorious Head, were beheved by many to be per- fectly futile and hopeless. They must come out from the civil organiza- tions and be wholly separate. Preparations for the coming disruption had already been made. The time for action had now come. It was a lovely May-day (the ISth) of that bright year in the history of the Scottish churches and the Scottish pulpit. The members of the General Assembly, and an anxious thron^- ot * See M'Kerrow's History of the Secession Church, p. 2, etc. THE SCOTTISH PULPIT. 203 spectators, with the officials of royalty and rank, had crowded the Church of St. Andrew's, in Edinburg, when the moderator, after opening the meeting with solemn prayer, broke the dead silence that ensued, by de- claring that owing to certain proceedings by her majesty's government, the ecclesiastical court could not be constituted, without a violation of the terms of union between the Church and State ; and solemnly protested against proceeding fiirther. Then reading a paper containing a formal statement of the reasons for complaint and secession, and laying it upon the table before the clerk, with a bow to the throne where sat the com- missioner, he withdrew, closely followed by the noble band, who slowly and calmly retired to the spacious Tanfield Hall, the appointed place of meeting, leaving the opposite party in the confusion of amazement and utter dismay. Dr. Chalmers was called to the chair by acclamation, a Psalm was sung, a prayer was offered, and the First General Assembly of the Free Church of Scotland, was formally organized.* The number of signatures of adhering ministers and elders, which were taken on that day, was three hundred and eighty-six ; additional names, subsequently taken, raised it to four hundred and seventy-four. It is scarcely possible to conceive of any movement that should have more directly and powerfully operated upon the Scottish pulpit, than that now described. ]!^ot only the Free Church clergy, but those from whom they withdrew, and those of every branch of the Christian community,, felt the impulse of a new life, and gave themselves mth more earnest- ness, and greater success, to the upbuilding of the kingdom of Christ. The present ministerial force of Scotland (exclusive, of course, of the- one hundred and twenty-five Roman CathoHc clergy) is made up of not far from two thousand eight hundred preachers. Without claiming en- tire accuracy, the following statement will afford an idea of their relative numbers, denominationally considered : There are about eleven him- dred in the estabHshed or National Church ; seven hundred and fifty in; the Free Chm-ch ; five hundred in the United or Associate Presbyterian Church (made up of different secession bodies) ; one hundred and thirty in the Episcopal ; one hundred in the Baptist ; about the same number in; the Congregational, and thirty in the Methodist Churches, besides, say fifty or one hundred in other smaller bodies. Episcopacy has never- flourished in Scotland. Indeed the same may be said of each of the- several denominations, except the Presbyterian. The doctriJie of the Scottish pulpit is, therefore, mainly Cahdnistic, as it is usually called. On this point there is a singular unanimity. The greatest efficiency does not seem to lie in the direction of numbers and state patronage. The estabhshment was shorn of its strength, to a great extent, at the disru2> tion ; and being obhged to fill its pulpits as best it could, it has not, smce that event, possessed the power of other days. In intellectual character * A minute and graphic account of this great movement may be found in the last volume of Hetherington's History of the Church of Scotland. 204 THE SCOTTISH PULPIT. and standing, the Free Church mmisters evidently excel those of any- other body. Perhaps, as a class, they are not inferior in sterling ability, to those of any other denomination in the world. In orator^/, or pulpit embellishments of any kind, the Scottish clergy certamly do not excel. Judging by their transatlantic productions, there is little or no effort at fine writmg ; and, if what appear to be rehable authorities are credited, there is even less attention to pulpit elocution. In this respect they fall behind their EngHsh neighbors. It is a fre- quent remark in the mother-country, " If one wants to know what to say, he must go to Scotland ; if he desii'es to know hoio to say it, he must go to England." To use the words of one of her own sons, " There is not a nation in Europe where public men are better thinkers and worse speakers than the Scottish nation. This Httle peninsula has produced more authors that are read and studied, more text-books that are intro- duced into foreign colleges and foreign Ubraries, and more great men in proportion to its territorial extent, and the number of its population, than any other country. Yet Scotland, though a land of poets, and metaphy- sicians, and historians, and theologians, and martyrs, is not a land of orators. Though the national education has elevated the Scottish mind, though the established religion of the country has infused a thorough moral element into the Scottish character, so that some of the best Brit- ish statesmen, not to speak of the ministers at foreign courts, are Scottish, stni Scotland has not furnished the bench, the bar, nor the pulpit, ^\h first rate orators. Tliis is one of the first thinsrs that strikes a foreio-ner on en- tering Scotland. There is an entire want of all the graces, with an ample supply of all the gifts of pulpit oratory. As a general tiling the preach- ers of this country are more taken up with the ichat than with the hoio. There is a masculine power about the Scottish 2>ulpit peculiar to itself. In most of their churches the thought is heavy and massive. The truth is sought after with great avidity, and wrapped up in every discourse, if not with tinseled ornament, certainly with golden sinew. It seems some- what surprismg, but so it is, that John Knox has left the impress of his noble nature, both external and mternal, on the Scottish character. The pulpit of that country is destined to echo with the rude tones of the ffreat Reformer's voice, and the people to see the uncouth, but viirorous crest- ures of the man, where, animated and warmed up to the welding-point, he produced and stereotyped every succeeding generation of Scottish preachers."* ThQ method of sermonizing mt\iQ Scottish pulpit is quite different from that of former days. The old method was at once expository, doc- trinal, methodical, and impassioned. He who reads the sennons of Bos- ton and the Erskines, for example, will find the several formal di^dsions, then numerous sub-divisions, and then almost any number of uses infer- ences, and practical reflections ; and even then several sermons on the * Eev. R. Irvine, now of Hamilton, Canada West. THE SCOTTISH PULPIT. 205 same text. He will also find sound argument, and, particularly in sacra- mental sermons, much of unction and pathos, and impassioned appeal. "Widely different is the present method. The expository form, which, for three centuries has done so much to indoctrinate and mold the Scot- tish nation, is still maintained to a great extent ; but the modern dis- courses are not generally distributed into heads, and formally annoimced at the beginning. Oftentimes no divisions are marked in the whole ser- mon, and httle or no strength is bestowed in the application — an obvious fault in most of the Scottish sermons with which we have met. Of late, the " blood earnestness" of Chalmers, as Dr. John M. Mason styled it, upon hearing him, has contributed to infuse more of that warmth and passion into the instruction of the pulpit wliich it formerly possessed. We close this sketch with the remark that if one seeks for proof of the power of the pulpit, let him examine the history of the land of John Knox. [N'owhere else has the relation of the pulpit to the existing form of civilization been so manifest. Nowhere else have the collected ener- gies of the kingdom of Christ been so powerfully brought to bear, by means of the pulpit, to resist the onset of error, and to fuse and mold the masses of society. The ruling element of civiHzation, from the beginning of the Reformation to the present time, (with some temporary interrup- tions), has been the religious element, rendered effective by preaddng. And there is reason to beheve that the future of the Scottish pulpit will not be unworthy of the past. Coming events may again test its strength. The present aggressions of the Roman pontiff in England, may, by pos- sibility, compass the reacquisition of that bright jewel, which the hand of the fearless Knox plucked from his tiara. If so, it may appear, in the eloquent language of another, why God, through these troubled centuries, has been schooling a hardy, manly race among the hills and floods of Scotland : and, as the spmt of Bannockburn and Drumclog flames out into a loftier blaze of heroism than that which appalled the usurping Edward, or the bloody Claverhouse, the blue banner of the Crown and the Covenant will be seen floating over the hottest and dead- liest field of that terrible conflict. DISCOURSE FIFTY. SIXTH. JOHN KNOX. The great Reformer was born in Haddington, not far from Edinburg, of poor but honest parents, in the year 1505. Destined for the Church, he received a thorough collegiate education, and became an honest friar ; but silently and unostentatiously he early adopted the principles of the Protestant Reformation. After this he spent a considerable time in teaching and pursumg his studies, when he was called, unexpectedly, to the ].reachmg of the Word at St. Andrews. Here he began boldly to attack " papal idolatry," upon which he was seized by the authorities and sent a prisoner to France, in 1547, where he worked in the galleys as a slave. After two years he was set at liberty, and refusing a bishopric in England, retired to the Contment at the accession of Mary, residing chieiiv at Geneva and Frankfort, but returned to Scotland in 1555, where he labored with indomitable perseverance and great success. A second time he went to Geneva, where he published his " First Blast of the Trumpet against the Regiment (government) of Women," directed prin- cipally against Mary of England, and Mary of Guise regent of Scotland, two miserable despots. He returned to Scotland in 1559, and, after see- ing Protestantism triumph in his beloved country, died, 1572, poor in this world's goods, but rich in the hope of a blessed immortality. As a preacher, Knox possessed most astonishing abilities. With the irresistible power of truth and of heaven, he took possession of the under- standing, and captivated the affections. Undismayed by opposition, and unbribed by proffered favors, he overlooked all distinctions between high and low, and alike to the sovereign on the throne, and the poor- est menial, preached repentance, and the need of a new heart. The mul- titude, not only, but the educated few were animated and influenced, if not convinced and convicted, by his rough but overwhelming eloquence. There are numerous treatises, admonitions, exhortations, and letters extant of the Reformer's writmgs ; but only one sermon^ put forth by himself (that which is here given), though there are two besides which were issued after his death. Knox speaks of this in the preface, as the first thing of the kind he ever set forth. It was preached in the public audience of the church in Edmburg, the 19th of August, 1565. He was THE SOURCE AND BOUNDS OP KINGLY POWER. 207 arrested for preacMng it, called l)efore the council, and finally forbidden to preach in Edinburg so long as the king and queen were in town. For this reason he wrote out the sermon after having preached it, to the end, as he says, that the enemies of God's truth might either note unto him wherein he had offended, or at least cease to condemn him, before con- vincing him by God's Word. It would be impossible for most readers ^ (j to understand the preacher if left in the atrocious speUing and uncouth %J/i/jXI Scotch dialect of his tune. The translation here adopted is that of the f--. London Religious Tract Society. It will be seen that he '' who never ;a a^jc feared the face of man" could preach with somewhat of elegance as well C^tT as such prodigious power. The title is om- own. THE SOUECE AND BOUNDS OF KINGLY POWER. " Lord our God, other lords besides Thee have had dominion over us ; but by Thee only mil we make mention of Thy name. They aro dead, they shall not live ; they are deceased, they shall not rise : therefore hast Thou visited and destroyed them, and made aU their memory to perish. Thou hast increased the nation, Lord, Thou hast increased the nation, Thou art glorified ; Thou hast removed it far unto the ends of the earth. Lord, in trouble have they visited Thee, they poured out a prayer when Thy chastening was upon them,'' etc. — Isaiah, xxvi. 13-16, etc. As the skillful mariner (being master), having his ship tossed with a vehement tempest, and contrary winds, is compelled oft to traverse, lest that, either by too much resisting to the violence of the waves, his vessel might be overwhelmed ; or by too much lib- erty granted, might be carried whither the fury of the tempest would^ so that his ship should be driven upon the shore, and make' shipwreck ; even so doth our prophet Isaiah in this text, which now you have heard read. For he, foreseeing the great desolation that was decreed in the council of the Eternal, against Jerusalem and Judah, namely, that the whole people that bare the name of God should be dispersed ; that the holy city should be destroyed ; the temple wherein was the ark of the covenant, and where God had promised to give His own presence, should be burned with fire ; and the king taken, his sons in his own presence murdered, his own eyes immediately after be put out ; the nobility, some cruelly murdered, some shamefully led away captives ; and finally the whole seed of Abraham rased, as it were, from the face of the earth — the prophet, I say, fearing these horrible calamities, doth, as it were, sometimes suffer himself, and the people committed to his charge, 208 JOHN KNOX. to be carried away with the violence of the tempest, without further resistance than by pouring forth his and their dolorous complaints before the majesty of God, as in the thirteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth verses of this present text we may read. At other times he valiantly resists the desperate tempest, and pronounces the fear- ful destruction of all such as trouble the Church of God ; which he pronounces that God will multiply, even when it appears utterly to be exterminated. But because there is no final rest to the whole body till the Head return to judgment. He exhorts the afflicted to patience, and promises a visitation whereby the wickedness of the wicked shall be disclosed; and finally recompensed in their own bosoms. These are the chief points of which, by the grace of God, we intend more largely at this present to speak : FiTst^ The prophet saith, " Lord our God, other lords besides Thee have ruled us." This, no doubt, is the beginning of the dolorous complaint, in which he complains of the unjust tyranny that the poor afflicted Israelites sustained during the time of their captivity. True it is that the prophet was gathered to his fathers in peace, before this came upon the people : for a hundred years after his decease the people were not led away captive ; yet he, foreseeing the assurance of the calamity, did beforehand indite and dictate unto them the complaint, which afterward they should make. But at the first sight it appears that the complaint has but small weight ; for what new thing was it that other lords than God in His own person ruled them, seeing that such had been their government from the begin- ning? For who knows not that Moses, Aaron, and Joshua, the ' judges, Samuel, David, and other godly rulers, were men, and not God ; and so other lords than God ruled them in their greatest pros- perity ? For the better understanding of this complaint, and of the mind of the prophet, we must, first^ observe from whence all authority flows ; and secondly^ to what end powers are appointed by God : which two points being discussed, we shall better understand what lords and what authority rule beside God, and who they are in whom God and His merciful presence rules. The first is resolved to us by the words of the Apostle, saying, "There is no power but of God." David brings in the eternal God speaking to judges and rulers, saying, " I have said, ye are gods, and sons of the Most High." And Solomon, in the person of God, affirmeth the same, saying, " By Me kings reign, and princes discern THE SOURCE AND BOUNDS OF KINGLY POWER. 209 the things tliat are just." From whicli place it is evident that it is neither birth, influence of stars, election of people, force of arms, nor, finally, whatsoever can be comprehended under the power of nature, that makes the distinction betwixt the superior power and the inferior, or that establishes the royal throne of kings ; but it is the only and perfect ordinance of God, who willeth His terror, power, and majesty, partly to shine in the thrones of kings, and in the faces of judges, and that for the profit and comfort of man. So that whosoever would study to deface the order of government that God has established, and allowed by His holy word, and bring in such a confusion that no difference should be betwixt the upper powers and the subjects, does nothing but avert and turn upside down the very throne of God, which He wills to be fixed here upon earth ; as in the end and cause of this ordinance more plainly shall appear : which is the second point we have to observe, for the better understanding of the prophet's words and mind. The end and cause then, why God imprints in the weak and feeble flesh of man this image of His own power and majesty, is not, to puff up flesh in opinion of itself; neither yet that the heart of him that is exalted above others should be lifted up by presump- tion and pride, and so despise others ; but that he should consider he is appointed lieutenant to One, whose eyes continually watch upon him, to see and examine how he behaves himself in his office. St. Paul, in few words, declares the end wherefore the sword is com- mitted to the powers, saying, "• It is to the punishment of the wickedi doers, and unto the praise of such as do well." Of which words it is evident that the sword of God is not com- mitted to the hand of man to use as it pleases him, but only to pun- ish vice and maintain virtue, that men may live in such society as is acceptable before God. And this is the true and only cause why God has ai^pointed powers in this earth. For such is the furious rage of man's corrupt nature that, unless severe punishment were appointed and put in execution upon male- factors, better it were that man should live among brutes and wild beasts than among men. But at this present I dare not enter into^ the descriptions of this common-place ; for so should I not satisfy the text, which by God's grace I purpose to explain. This only by the way — I would that such as are placed in authority should con- sider whether they reign and rule by God, so that God rules them ; or if they rule without, besides, and against God, of whom our- prophet here complains. If any desire to take trial of this point, it is not hard ; for Moses,, 14 210 JOHN KNOX. in the election of judges, and of a king, describes not only what persons shall be chosen to that honor, but also gives to him that is elected and chosen the rule by which he shall try himself, whether God reign in him or not, saying, ''When he shall sit upon the throne of his kingdom, he shall write to himself an exemplar of this law, in a book by the priests and Levites ; it shall be with him, and he shall read therein, all the days of his life : that he may learn to fear the Lord his God, and to keep all the words of His law, and these statutes, that he may do them ; that his heart be not lifted up above his brethren, and that he turn not from the commandment, to the right hand, or to the left." The same is repeated to Joshua, in his inauguration to the gov- ernment of the people, by God Himself, saying, ''Let not the book of this law depart from thy mouth, but meditate in it day and night, that thou mayest keep it, and do according to all that which is writ- ten in it. For then shall thy way be prosjDcrous, and thou shall do prudently." T\iQ first thing then that God requires of him who is called to the honor of a king, is. The knowledge of His will revealed in His word. The second is. An upright and willing mind, to put in execution such things as God commands in His law, without declining to the right, or to the left hand. Kings, then, have not an absolute power to do in their govern- ment what pleases them, but their power is limited by God's word ; so that if they strike where God has not commanded, they are but murderers ; and if they spare where God has commanded to strike, they and their throne are criminal and guilty of the wickedness which abounds upon the face of the earth, for lack of punishment. that kings and princes would consider what account shall be craved of them, as well of their ignorance and misknowledge of God's will as for the neglecting of their office I But now to return to the words of the prophet. In the person of the whole people he complains unto God that the Babylonians (whom he calls " other lords besides God," both because of their ignorance of God and by reason of their cruelty and inhumanity) had long ruled over them in great rigor, without pity or compassion upon the ancient men and famous matrons ; for they, being mortal enemies to the people of God, sought by all means to aggravate their yoke, yea, utterly to exterminate the memory of them, and of their religion, from the face of the earth. * * ^ * Hereof it is evident that their disobedience unto God and unto THE SOURCE AND BOUNDS OF KINGLY POWER. 211 the voices of the prophets was the source of their destruction. ISTow have we to take heed how we should use the good laws of God ; that is, His will revealed unto us in His Word ; and that order of justice which, by Him, for the comfort of man, is established among men. There is no doubt but that obedience is the most acceptable sacrifice unto God, and that which above all things He requires ; so that when He manifests Himself by His Word, men should follow according to their vocation and commandment. Now so it is that God, by that great Pastor our Lord Jesus, now manifestly in His Word calls us from all impiety, as well of body as of mind, to holi- ness of life, and to His spiritual service ; and for this purpose He has erected the throne of His mercy among us, the true preaching of His word, together with the right administration of His sacra- ments ; but what our obedience is, let every man examine his own conscience, and consider what statutes and laws we would have to be given unto her. Wouldst thou, Scotland I have a king to reign over thee in justice, equity, and mercy ? Subject thou thyself to the Lord thy God, obey His commandments, and magnify thou the Word that calleth unto thee, *^ This is the way, walk in it ;" and if thou wilt not, flatter not thyself; the same justice remains this day in God to punish thee, Scotland, and thee Edinburg especially, which before punished the land of Judah and the city of Jerusalem. Every realm or nation, saith the prophet Jeremiah, that likewise offendeth, shall be likewise punished, but if thou shalt see impiety placed in the seat of justice above thee, so that in the throne of God (as Solo- mon complains) reigns nothing but fraud and violence, accuse thine own ingratitude and rebellion against God ; for that is the only cause why God takes away " the strong man and the man of war, the judge and the prophet, the prudent and the aged, the captain and the honorable, the counselor and the cunning artificer ; and I will appoint, saith the Lord, children to be their princes, and babes shall rule over them. Children are extortioners of my people, and women have rule over them." If these calamities, I say, apprehend us, so that we see nothing but the oppression of good men and of all godliness, and that wicked men without God reign above us ; let us accuse and condemn ourselves, as the only cause of our own miseries. For if we had heard the voice of the Lord our God, and given upright obedience unto the same, God would have multiplied our peace, and would have rewarded our obedience before the eyes of the world. But now let us hear what the prophet saith further : " The dead shall not 212 JOHN KNOX. live," saitli he, ''neither shall the tyrants, nor the dead arise, be- cause Thou hast visited and scattered them, and destroyed all their memory." From this fourteenth verse unto the end of the nineteenth, it ap- pears that the prophet observes no order ; yea, that he speaks things directly repugning^' one to another; for, firsts he saith, "The dead shall not live ;" afterward he affirms, "Thy dead men shall live." Secondly^ he saith, " Thou hast visited and scattered them, and destroyed all their memory." Immediately after, he saith, " Thou hast increased Thy nation, Lord, Thou hast increased Thy nation. They have visited Thee, and have poured forth a prayer before Thee." Who, I say, would not think that these are things not only spoken without good order and purpose, but also manifestly repugn- ing one to another ? For to live, and not to live, to be so destroyed that no memorial remains, and to be so increased that the coasts of the earth shall be replenished, seems to impart plain contradiction. For removing of this doubt, and for better understanding the proph- et's mind, we must observe, that the prophet had to do with divers sorts of men ; he had to do with the conjuredf and manifest enemies of God's people, the Chaldeans or Babylonians ; even so, such as profess Christ Jesus have to do with the Turks and Saracens, He had to do with the seed of Abraham, whereof there were three sorts. The ten tribes were all degenerated from the true worshiping of God and corrupted with idolatry, as this day are our pestilent papists in all realms and nations ; there rested only the tribe of Ju- dah at Jerusalem, where the form of true religion was observed, the law taught, and the ordinances of God outwardly kept. But yet there were in that body, I mean in the body of the visible Church, a great number that were hypocrites, as this day yet are among U5 that profess the Lord Jesus, and have refused papistry ; also not a few that were licentious livers ; some that turned their back to God, that is, had forsaken all true religion ; and some that lived a most abominable life, as Ezekiel saith in his vision ; and yet there were some godly, as a few wheat-corns oppressed:]: and hid among the multitude of chaff : now, according to this diversity, the prophet keeps divers purposes, and yet in most perfect order. And first, after the first part of the complaint of the afflicted as we have heard, in vehemency of spirit he bursts forth against all the proud enemies of God's people, against all such as trouble them, and against all such as mock and forsake God, and saith, "The dead shall not live, the proud giants shall not rise ; Thou hast scattered * Opposing. f Combined. X Covered over, weighed down. THE SOURCE AND BOUNDS OF KINGLY POWER. 213 them, and destroyed their memorial." lu wliicli words he contends against the present temptation and dolorous state of God's people, and against the insolent pride of such as oppressed them ; as if the prophet should say, ye troublers of God's people ! howsoever it appears to you in this your bloody rage, that God regards not your cruelty, nor considers what violence you do to His poor afflicted, yet shall you be visited, yea, your carcasses shall fall and lie as stinking carrion upon the face of the earth, you shall fall without hope of life, or of a blessed resurrection ; yea, howsoever you gather your substance and augment your famihes, you shall be so scattered that you shall leave no memorial of you to the posterities to come, but that which shall be execrable and odious. Hereof the tyrants have their admonition, and the afflicted Church inestimable comfort : the tyrants that oppress shall receive the same end which they did who have passed before : that is, they shall die and fall with shame, without hope of resurrection, as is aforesaid. Not that they shall not arise to their own confusion and just condemnation; but that they shall not recover power to trouble the servants of God ; neither yet shall the wicked arise, as David saith, in the counsel of the just. ISTow the wicked have tbeir coun- sels, their thrones, and finally handle*^ (for the most part) all things that are upon the face of the earth ; but the poor servants of God are reputed unworthy of men's presence, envied and mocked ; yea, they are more vile before these proud tyrants than is the very dirt and mire which is trodden under foot. But in that glorious resur- rection this state shall be changed ; for then shall such as now, by their abominable living and cruelty, destroy the earth and molest God's children, see Him whom they have pierced ; they shall see the glory of such as now they persecute, to their terror and ever- lasting confusion. The remembrance hereof ought to make us pa- tient in the days of affliction, and so to comfort us that when we see tyrants in their blind rage tread under foot the saints of God, we despair not utterly, as if there were neither wisdom, justice^ nor power above in the heavens to repress such tyrants, and to redress the dolors of the unjustly afflicted. No, brethren, let us be assured that the right hand of the Lord will change the state of things that are most desperate. In our God there is wisdom and power, in a moment to change the joy and mirth of our enemies into everlasting mourning, and our sorrows into joy and gladness that shall have no end. Therefore, in these apparent calamities (and marvel not that I * Manage. 214 JOHN KNOX. say apparent calamities, for he that sees not a fire is begun, that shall burn more than we look for, unless God of His mercy quench it,* is more than blind), let us not be discouraged, but with unfeigned repentance let us return to the Lord our God ; let us accuse and condemn our former negligence, and steadfastly depend upon his promised deliverance ; so shall our temporal sorrows be converted into everlasting joy. The doubt that might be moved concerning the destruction of those whom God exalteth, shall be discussed, if time will suffer, after we have passed throughout the text. The prophet now proceeds and saith, " Thou hast increased the nations, Lord, Thou hast increased the nations ; Thou art made glorious. Thou hast enlarged all the coasts of the earth. Lord, in trouble," etc. In these words the prophet gives consolation to the afflicted, as- suring them that how horrible soever the desolation should be, yet should the seed of Abraham be so multiplied, that it should replenish the coasts of the earth ; yea, that God should be more glorified in their afiliction than He was during the time of their prosperity. This promise, no doubt, was incredible when it was made ; for who could have been persuaded that the destruction of Jerusalem should have been the means whereby the nation of the Jews should have been increased ? seeing that much rather it appeared, that the over- throw of Jerusalem should have been the very abolishing of the seed of Abraham : but we must consider, to what end it was that God revealed Himself to Abraham, and what is contained in the promise of the multiplication of his seed, and the benediction prom- ised thereto. [Instances are here adduced in which God has '^ notified His name'' in the history of the Jews. J "Wherefore, dear brethren, we have no small consolation, if the state of all things be rightly considered. We see in what fury and rage the world, for the most part, is now raised, against the poor Chui'ch of Jesus Christ, unto which He has proclaimed liberty, after the fearful bondage of that spiritual Babylon, in which we have been holden captives longer space than Israel was prisoner in Babylon it- self : for if we shall consider, upon the one part, the multitude of those that live wholly without Christ ; and, upon the other part, the bhnd rage of the pestilent papists ; what shall we think of the small number of them that profess Christ Jesus, but that they are as a poor sheep, already seized in the claws of the lion ; yea, that they, and the true religion which they profess, shall in a moment be utterly consumed? But against this fearful temptation, let us be armed with the * Alluding^ to the political troubles of that day. THE SOURCE AND BOUNDS OF KINQLT POWER. 215 promise of God, namely, that He will be the protector of His ChurcTi ; yea, that He will multiply it, even when to man's judgment it ap- pears utterly to be exterminated. This promise has our God per- formed, in the multiplication of Abraham's seed, in the preservation of it when Satan labored utterly to have destroyed it, and in deliver- ance of the same, as we have heard, from Babylon. He hath sent His Son Christ Jesus, clad in our flesh, who hath tasted of all our infirmities (sin excepted), who hath promised to be with us to the end of the world ; He hath further kept promise in the publication, yea, in the restitution of His glorious Gospel. Shall we then think that He will leave His Church destitute in this most dangerous age ? Only let us cleave to His truth, and study to conform our lives to the same, and He shall multiply His knowledge, and increase His people. But now let us hear what the prophet saith more : *' Lord, in trouble have they visited Thee, they poured out a prayer when Thy chastening was upon them." The prophet means that such as in the time of quietness did not rightly regard God nor His judgments, were compelled, by sharp corrections, to seek God ; yea, by cries and dolorous complaints to visit Him. True it is^ that such obedience deserves small praise be- fore men ; for who can praise, or accept that in good part, which comes as it were of mere compulsion ? And yet it is rare that any of God's children do give unfeigned obedience, until the hand of God turn them. For if quietness and prosperity make them not ut- terly to forget their duty, both toward God and man, as David for a season, yet it makes them careless, insolent, and in many things un- mindfal of those things that God chiefly craves of them ; which im- perfections being espied, and the danger that thereof might ensue, our heavenly Father visits the sins of His children, but with the rod of His mercy, by which they are moved to return to their God, to accuse their former negligence, and to promise better obedience in all times hereafter ; as David confessed, saying, "Before I fell in affliction I went astray, but now will I keep Thy statutes." But yet, for the better understanding of the prophet's mind, we may consider how God doth visit man, and how man doth visit God ; and what difference there is betwixt the visitation of God upon the reprobate, and His visitation upon the chosen. God sometimes visits the reprobate in His hot displeasure, pour- ing upon them His plagues for their long rebelhon ; as we have heard before that He visited the proud, and destroyed their memory. At other times God is said to visit His people, being in ajBfliction, to whom He sends comfort or promise of deliverance, as He visited the 216 JOHN KNOX. seed of Abraham, when oppressed in Egypt. And Zacharias said that "God had visited His people, and sent unto them hope of de- liverance," when John the Baptist was born. But of none of these visitations our prophet here speaks, but of that only which we have already touched ; namely, when God layeth His correction upon His own children, to call them from the venomous breasts of this corrupt world, that they suck not in over great abundance the poison thereof; and He doth, as it were, wean them from their mother's breasts, that they may learn to receive other nourishment. True it is, that this weaning (or speaning, as we term it) from worldly pleas- ure, is a thing strange to the flesh. And yet it is a thing so neces- sary to God's children, that, unless they are weaned from the pleas- ures of the world, they can never feed upon that delectable milk of God's eternal verity ; for the corrujotion of the one either hinders the other from being received, or else so troubles the whole powers of man, that the soul can never so digest the truth of God as he ought to do. Although this ap]3ears hard, yet it is most evident ; for Avhat can we receive from the Vv^orld, but that which is in the world ? What that is, the apostle John teaches ; saying, " Whatsoever is in the world, is either the lust of the ej-es, the lust of the flesh, or the pride of life." Now, seeing that these are not of the Father, but of the world, how can it be, that our sculs can feed upon chastity, temper- ance, and humility, so long as our stomachs are replenished with the corrujotion of these vices ? jSTow so it is, that flesh can never willingly refuse these fore- named, but rather still delights itself in every one of them ; yea, in them all, as the examples are but too evident. It behooves, therefore, that God Himself shall violently pull His children from these venomous breasts, that when they lack the liquor and poison of the world, they may visit Him, and learn to be nourished of Him. Oh if the eyes of worldly princes should be opened, that they might see with with what humor and liquor their souls arc fed, while their whole delight consists in pride, ambition, and the lusts of the corrupt flesh ! We understand then how God doth visit men, as well by His severe judgments as by His merciful visitation of deliverance from trouble, or by bringing trouble upon His chosen for their humiliation ; and now it remains to understand how man visits God. Man doth visit God when he appears in His presence, be it for the hearing of His word, or for the participation of His sacraments ; as the people of Israel, besides the observation of their sabbaths and daily oblations, were commanded thrice a year THE SOURCE AND BOUNDS OF KINGLY POWER. 217 to present themselves before the presence of the tabernacle ; and as we do, and as often as we present ourselves to the hearing of the word. For there is the footstool, yea, there is the face and throne of God Himself, wheresoever the Gospel of Jesns Christ is truly preached, and His sacraments rightly ministered. But men may on this sort visit God hypocritically ; for they may come for the fashion ; they may hear with deaf ears ; yea, they may understand, and yet never determine with themselves to obey that which God requires : and let such men be assured, that He who searches the secrets of hearts will be avenged of all snch ; for noth- ing can be more odious to God, than to mock Him in His own presence. Let every man therefore examine himseli', with what mind, and what purpose, he comes to hear the word of God ; yea, with what ear he hears it, and what testimony his heart gives unto Him, when God commands virtue, and forbids impiety. Eepinest thou when God requires obedience ? Thou hearest to thine own condemnation. Mockest thou at God's threatenings ? Thou shalt feel the weight and truth of them, albeit too late, when flesh and blood can not deliver thee from His hand ! But the visitation, whereof our prophet speaks, is only proper to the sons of God, who, in the time when God takes from them the pleasures of the world, or shows His angry countenance unto them, have recourse unto Him, and confessing their former negligence, with troubled hearts, cry for His mercy. This visitation is not proper to all the afflicted, but appertains only to God's children : for the reprobates can never have access to God's mercy in time of their tribulation, and that because they abuse His long patience, as well as the man- ifold benefits they receive from His hands ; for as the same prophet heretofore saith, "Let the wicked obtain mercy, yet shall he never learn wisdom, but in the land of righteousness ;" that is, where the true knowledge of God abounds, '^ he will do wickedly." Which is a crime above all others abominable ; for to what end is it that God erects His throne among us, but that we should fear Him ? Why does He reveal His holy will unto us, but that we should obey it ? Why does He deliver us from trouble, but that we should be wit- nesses unto the world, that He is gracious and merciful ? Now, when men, hearing their duty, and knowing what God re- quires of them, do malapertly fight against all equity and justice, what, I pray you, do they else but make manifest war against God ? Yea, when they have received from God sach deliverance, that they can not deny but that God Himself hath in His great mercy visited them, and yet they continue wicked as before ; what deserve they 218 JOHN KNOX. but effectually to be given over unto a reprobate sense, that they may headlong run to ruin, both of body and soul ? It is almost in- credible that a man should be so enraged against God, that neither His plagues, nor yet His mercy showed, should move him to re|)ent- ance ; but because the Scriptures bear witness of the one and the other, let us cease to marvel, and let us firmly believe, that such things as have been, are even at present before our eyes, albeit many, blinded by affection, can not see them. [The case of Ahab is instanced as an illustration.] "Like as a woman with child, that draweth near her travail, is in sorrow, and crieth in her pains, so have we been in Thy sight, Lord ; we have conceived, we have borne in vain, as though we should have brought forth the wind. Salvations were not made to the earth, neither did the inhabitants of the earth fall." This is the second part of the prophet's complaint, in which he, in the person of God's people, complains, that of their great affliction there appeared no end. This same similitude is used by our Master Jesus Christ; for when He speaks of the troubles of His Church, He compares them to the pains of a woman travailing in child-birth. But it is to another end ; for there He promises exceeding and per- manent joy after a sort, though it appear trouble. But here is the trouble long and vehement, albeit the fruit of it was not suddenly espied. He speaks no doubt of that long and dolorous time of their captivity, in which they continually labored for deliverance, but ob- tained it not before the coQiplete end of seventy years. Durino- which time the earth, that is, the land of Judah, which sometimes was sanctified unto God, but was then given to be profaned by wicked people, got no help, nor perceived any deliverance : for the inhabitants of the w^orld fell not ; that is, the tyrants and oppressors of God's people were not taken away, but still remained and con- tinued blasphemers of God, and troublers of His Church. But because I perceive the hours to pass more swiftly than they have seemed at other times, I must contract that which remains of this text into certain points. The prophet first contends against the present despair; after- ward he introduces God Himself calling upon His people ; and, last of all, he assures His afflicted that God will come, and require ac- count of all the blood-thirsty tyrants of the earth. First, Fighting against the present despair, he saith, ^' Thy dead shall five, even my body (or with my body) shall they arise ; awake and sing, ye that dwell in the dust ; for thy dew is as the dew of herbs." THE SOURCE AND BOUNDS OE KINGLY POWER. 219 The prophet here pierces through all impediments that nature could object; and, by the victory of faith, he overcomes not only the common enemies, but the great and last enemy of all, death it- self; for tbis would he say, Lord, I see nothing for Thy chosen, but misery to follow misery, and one affliction to succeed another ; yea, in the end I see that death shall devour Thy dearest children. But yet, Lord ! I see Thy promise to be true, and Thy love to remain toward Thy chosen, even when death appears to have devoured tbem : "For Thy dead shall live ; yea, not only shall they live, but my very dead carcase shall arise ;" and so I see honor and glory to succeed this temporal shame ; I see permanent joy to come after trouble, order to spring out of this terrible confusion ; and, finally, I see that life shall devour death, so that death shall be destroyed, and so Thy servants shall have life. This, I say, is the victory of faith, when to the midst of death, through the light of God's word, the afflicted see life. Hypocrites, in the time of quietness and pros- perity, can generally confess that God is true to His promises ; but bring them to the extremity, and there the bypocrite ceases farther to trust in God, than he seeth natural means, whereby God useth to work. But the true faithful, when all hope of natural means fail, flee to God Himself and to the truth of His promise, who is above nature ; yea, whose works are not so subject to the ordinary course of nature, that when nature fails, His power and promise fail also therewith. [The text is here further explained.] This vision, I say, given to the prophet, and by the prophet preached to the people, when they thought that God had utterly for- gotten them, compelled them more diligently to advert to what the former prophets had spoken. It is no doubt but that they carried with them both the prophecy of Isaiah and Jeremiah, so that the prophet Ezekiel is a commentary to these words of Isaiah, where he saith, " Thy dead, Lord, shall live, with my body they shall arise." The prophet brings in this similitude of the dew, to answer unto that part of their fidelity, who can believe no further of God's promises than they are able to apprehend by natural judgment; as if he would say. Think ye this impossible that God should give life unto you, and bring you to an estate of a commonwealth again, after that ye are dead, and, as it were, razed from the face of the earth ? But why do you not consider what God worketh from year to year in the order of nature ? Sometimes you see the face of the earth decked and beautified with herbs, flowers, grass, and fruits: again you see the same utterly taken away by storms and the vehemence of the winter : what does God to replenish the earth again, and to 220 JOHN KNOX. restore the beauty thereof? He sends down his small and soft dew, the drops whereof, in their descending, are neither great nor visible, and yet thereby are the pores and secret veins of the earth, which before, by vehemence of frost and cold were shut up, opened again, and so does the earth produce again the like herbs, flowers, and fruits. Shall you then think that the dew of God's heavenly grace will not be as effectual in you, to whom He hath made His promise, as it is in the herbs and fruits which, from year to year bud forth and decay ? If you do so, the prophet would say your incred- ibility"^ is inexcusable ; because you neither rightly weigh the power nor the promises of your God. The like similitude the Apostle Paul uses against such as called the resurrection in doubt, because by natural judgment they could not apprehend that flesh once putrifled, and dissolved as it were into other substances, should rise again, and return again to the same substance and nature: "0 fool," saith he, "that which thou sowest is not quickened, except it die ; and that which thou sowest, thou sowest not that body that shall be, but bare coro, as it falleth, of wheat, or some other, but God giveth it a body as it pleaseth Him, even to every seed His own body." In which words and sentence the Apostle sharply rebukes the gross ignorance of the Corinthians, who be,2;rai to call in doubt the chief article of our faith, the resur- rection of the flesh after it was once dissolved, because that natural judgment, as he said, reclaimed there to.f He reproves^ I say, their gross ignorance, because they might have seen and considered some proof and document thereof in the very order of nature ; for albeit the wheat or other corn, cast in the earth, appears to die or putrify, and so to be lost, yet we see that it is not perished, but that it fruc- tifies according to God's will and ordinance. Now, if the power of God be so manifest in raising up of the fruits of the earth, unto which no particular promise is made by God, what shall be His power and virtue in raising up our bodies, seeing that thereto He is bound by the solemn promise of Jesus Christ, His Eternal Wisdom, and the Verity itself that can not lie ? Yea, seeing that the members must once communicate with the glory of the Head, how shall our bodies, which are flesh of His flesh, and bone of His bones, lie still forever in corruption, seeing that our Head, Jesus Christ, is now exalted in His glory ? Neither yet is this power and good-will of God to be restrained unto the last and general resurrection only, but we ought to consider it in the marvelous pres- ervation of His Church, and in the raising up of the same from the * Unbelief. f Cried out against it. THE SOURCE AND BOUNDS OF KINGLY POWER. 221 very bottom of death, when by tyrants it has been oppressed from age to age. NoW; of the former words of the prophet, we have to gather this comfort ; that if at any time we see the face of the Church within this realm so defaced, as I think it shall be sooner than we look for —when we shall see, I say, virtue to be despised, vice to be main- tained, the verity of God to be impugned, lies and men's inventions holden in authority— and finally, when we see the true religion of our God, and the zealous observers of the same, trodden under the feet of such as in their heart say, that " There is no God," let us then call to mind what have been the wondrous works of our God from the beginning — ^that it is His proper office to bring light out of darkness, order out of confusion, life out of death ; and finally, that this is He that calleth things that are not even as if they were, as before we have heard. And if in the day of our temptation, wliich in my judgment approaches fast, we are thus armed, if our incre- dulity can not utterly be removed, yet shall it be so corrected, that damnable despair oppress us not. But now let us hear how the prophet proceeds : — " Come, thou My people, enter within thy chamber, shut thy door after thee, hide thyself a very little while, until the indignation pass over." Here the prophet brings in God amiably,^ calling upon His people to come to Himself, and to rest with Him, until such time as the fury and sharp plagues should be executed upon the wicked and disobedient. It may appear at the first sight, that all these words of the prophet, in the person of God, calling the people unto rest, are spoken in vain ; for we neither find chambers nor rest, more pre- pared for the dearest children of God, so far as man's judgment can discern, than for the rebellious and disobedient ; for such as fell not by the edge of the sword, or died not of pestilence, or by hunger, were either carried captives unto Babylon, or else departed afterward into Egypt, so that none of Abraham's seed had either chamber or quiet place to remain in within the land of Canaan. For the reso- lution hereof, we must understand, That albeit the chambers where- unto God has called His chosen be not visible, yet notwithstanding they are certain, and offer unto God's children a quiet habitation in spirit, howsoever the flesh be travailed and tormented. The chambers, then, are God's sure promises, unto which God's people are commanded to resort ; yea, within which they are com- manded to close themselves in the time of greatest adversity. The * Lovingly. 222 JOHN KNOX. manner of speaking is borrowed from that judgment and foresight which God has printed in this our nature ; for when men espj great tempests aj^pearing to come, they will not willingly remain uncov- ered in the fields, but straightway they will draw them to their houses or holds, that they may escape the vehemence of the same ; and if they fear any enemy pursues them, they will shut their doors, to the end that the enemy should not suddenly have entry. After this manner God speaks to His people ; as if He should say, The tempest that shall come upon this whole nation shall be so terrible, that nothing but extermination shall appear to come upon the whole body. But thou My people, that hearest My word, behev- est the same, and tremblest at the threatenings of My prophets, now, when the world does insolently resist — let sucb, I say, enter within the secret chamber of My promises, let them contain themselves qui- etly there ; yea, let them shut the door upon them, and suffer not infidelity, the mortal enemy of My truth and of My people that depend thereupon, to have free entry to trouble them, yea, further to murder, in My promise; and so shall they perceive that My indignation shall pass, and that such as depend upon Me shall be saved. Thus we may perceive the meaning of the prophet ; whereof we have first to observe that God acknowledges them for His people who are in the greatest afiliction ; yea, such as are reputed unworthy of men's presence are yet admitted within the secret chamber of God. Let no man think that flesh and blood can suddenly attain to that comfort ; and therefore most expedient it is, that we be frequently exercised in meditation of the same. Easy it is, I grant, in time of prosperity, to say and to think that God is our God, and that we are His ^^eople ; but when He has given us over into the hands of our enemies, and turned, as it were, His back unto us, then, I say, still to reclaim Him to be our God, and to have this assurance, that that we are His people, proceeds wholly from the Holy Spirit of God, as it is the greatest victory of faith, which overcomes the world ; for increase whereof we ought continually to pray. This doctrine we shall not think strange, if we consider how suddenly our spirits are carried away from our God, and from be- lieving His promise. So soon as any great temptation apprehends us, then we begin to doubt if ever we believed God's promises, if God will fulfill them to us, if we abide in His favor, if He reo-ards and looks upon the violence and injury that is done unto us ; and a multitude of such cogitations which before lurked quietly in our corrupted hearts, burst violently forth when we are oppressed with THE SOURCE AND BOUNDS OF KINGLY POWER. 223 any desperate calamity. Against whicTi this is the remedy — once to apprehend, and still to retain God to be our God, and firmly to be- lieve, that we are His people whom He loves, aud will defend, not only in affliction, but even in the midst of death itself Again, Let us observe, That the judgments of our God never were, nor yet shall be so vehement upon the face of the earth, but that there has been, and shall be, some secret habitation prepared in the sanctuary of God, for some of His chosen, where they shall be preserved until the indignation pass by; and that God prepares a time, that they may glorify Him again, before the face of the world, which once despised them. And this ought to be unto us no small comfort in these appearing dangers, namely, that we are surely persuaded, that how vehement soever the tempest shall be, it yet shall pass over, and some of us shall be preserved to glorify the name of our God, as is aforesaid. Two vices lurk in this our nature : the one is, that we can not tremble at God's threatenings, before the plagues apprehend us, albeit we see cause most just why His fierce wrath should burn as a devouring fire ; the other is, that when calamities before pronounced, fall upon us, then we begin to sink down in despair, so that we never look for any comfortable end of the same. To correct this our mortal infirmity, in time of quietness we ought to consider what is the justice of our God, and how odious sin is ; and, above all, how odious idolatry is in His presence, who has forbidden it, and who has so severely punished it in all ages from the beginniDg : and in the time of our affliction we ought to consider, what have been the wondrous Avorks of our God, in the pres- ervation of His Church when it hath been in uttermost extremity. For never shall we find the Church humbled under the hands of traitors, and cruelly tormented by them, but we shall find God's just vengeance full upon the cruel persecutors, and His merciful deliver- ance showed to the afflicted. And, in taking of this trial, we should not only call to mind the histories of ancient times, but also we should diligently mark what notable works God hath wrought, even in this our age, as well upon the one as upon the other. We ought not to think that our God bears less love to His Church this day, than what He has done from the beginning ; for as our God in His own nature is immutable, so His love toward His elect remains always unchangeable. For as in Christ Jesus He hath chosen His Church, before the beginning of all ages ; so by Him will He main- tain and preserve the same unto the end. Yea, He will quiet the storms, and cause the earth to open her mouth, and receive the rag- 224 JOHN KNOX. ing floods of violent waters, cast out by the dragon, to drown and carry away the woman, which is the spouse of Jesus Christ, unto whom God for His own name's sake will be the perpetual Protector. This saw that notable servant of Jesus Christ, Athanasius, who being exiled from Alexandria by that blasphemous, apostate, Julian the emperor, said unto his flock, who bitterly wept for his envious banishment, "Weep not, but be of good comfort, for this little cloud will suddenly vanish." He called both the emperor himself and his cruel tyranny a little cloud ; and albeit there was small ap- pearance of any deliverance to the Church of God, or of any pun- ishment to have apprehended the proud tyrants, when the man of God pronounced these words, yet shortly after God did give witness that those words did not proceed from flesh nor blood, but from God's very Spirit. For not long after, being in warfare, Julian received a deadly wound, whether by his own hand, or by one of his own soldiers, the writers clearly conclude not ; but casting his own blood against the heaven, he said, "At last Thou hast over- come, thou Galilean:" so in desjDite he termed the Lord Jesus. And so perished that tyrant in his own iniquity; the storm ceased, and the Church of God received new comfort. Such shall be the end of all cruel persecutors, their reign shall be short, their end miserable, and their name shall be left in execra- tions to God's jDeople ; and yet shall the Church of God remain to God's glory, after all storms. But now shortly, let us come to the last point : "For behold," saith the prophet, "the Lord will come out of His place, to visit the iniquity of the inhabitants of the earth upon them ; and the earth shall disclose her blood, and shall no more hide her slain." Because that the iinal end of the troubles of God's chosen shall not be, before the Lord Jesus shall return to restore all things to their full j)erfection. The prophet brings forth the eternal God, as it were, from his own place and habitation, and therewith shows the cause of His coming to be, that He might take account of all such as have wrought wickedly ; for that he means, where he saith, " He will visit the iniquity of the inhabitants of the earth upon them." And lest any should think the wrong doers are so many, that they can not be called to an account, he gives unto the earth as it were an office and charge, to bear witness against all those that have wrought wickedly, and chiefly against those that have shed innocent blood from the beginning ; and saith, "That the earth shall disclose her blood, and shall no more hide her slain men." THE SOURCE AND BOUNDS OF KINGLY POWER. 225 If tyrants of tlie earth, and sucli as deliglit in the shedding of blood, should be persuaded that this sentence is true, they would not so furiously come to their own destruction ; for what man can be so enraged that he would willingly do, even before the eyes of God, that which might provoke His Majesty to anger, yea, provoke Him to become his enemy forever, if he understood how fearful a thing it is to fall into the hands of the living Grod ? The cause, then, of this blind fury of the world is the ignorance of God, and that men think that God is but an idol ; and that there is no knowledge above that beholds their tyranny ; nor yet justice that will, nor power that can, repress their impiety. But the Spirit of truth witnesses the contrary, affirming, that as the eyes of the Lord are upon the just, and as His ears are ready to receive their sobbiDg . and prayers, so is His visage angry against such as work iniquity ; He hateth and holdeth in abomination every deceitful and blood-thirsty man, whereof He has given sufficient document from age to age, in preserving the one, or at least in avenging their cause, and in punishing the other. Where it is said, " That the Lord will come from His place, and that He will visit the iniquity of the inhabitants of the earth upon them, and that the earth shall disclose her blood;" we have to con- sider, what most commonly has been, and what shall be, the condi- tion of the Church of God, namely, that it is not only hated, mocked, and despised, but that it is exposed as a prey unto the fury of the wicked ; so that the blood of the children of God is spilled like unto water upon the face of the earth. The understanding whereof, albeit it is unpleasant to the flesh, yet to us it is most profitable, lest that we, seeing the cruel treat- ment of God's servants, begin to forsake the spouse of Jesus Christ, because she is not to dealt with in this unthankful world, as the just and upright dealings of God's children do deserve. But con- trariwise, for mercy they receive cruelty, for doing good to many, of all the reprobate they receive evil ; and this is decreed in God's eternal counsel, that the members may follow the trace of the Head ; to the end that God in His just judgment should finally condemn the wicked. For how should He punish the inhabitants of the earth, if their iniquity deserved it not ? How should the earth dis- close our blood, if it should not be unjustly spilled ? "We must then commit ourselves into the hands of our God, and lay down our necks ; yea, and patiently suffer our blood to be shed, that the right- eous Judge may require account, as most assuredly He will, of all the blood that hath been shed, from the blood of Abel the just, till 15 226 JOHN KNOX. the day that tlie earth shall disclose the same. I say, every one that sheds, or consents to shed the blood of God's children, shall be guilty of the whole ; so that all the blood of God's children shall cry vengeance, not only in general, but also in particular, upon every one that has shed the blood of any that unjustly suffered. And if any think it strange that such as live this day can be guilty of the blood that was shed in the days of the Apostles, let them consider that the Verity itself pronounced, That all the blood that was shed from the days of Abel, unto the days of Zacharias, should come upon the unthankful generation that heard His doc- trine and refused it. The reason is evident ; for as there are two heads and captains that rule over the whole world, namely, Jesus Christ, the Prince of justice and peace, and Satan, called the prince of the world ^ so there are but two armies that have continued battle from the beginning, and shall fight unto the end. The quarrel which the army of Jesus Christ sustains, and which the reprobate jDcrsecute, is the same, namely, The eternal truth of the eternal God, and the image of Jesus Chiist printed in his elect — so that whosoever, in any age, persecutes any one member of Jesus Christ for his truth's sake, subscribes, as it were with his hand, to the persecution of all that have passed before him. And this ought the tyrants of this age deej^ly to consider ; for they sliall be guilty, not only of the blood shed by themselves, but of all, as is said, that has been shed for the cause of Jesus Christ from the beginning of the world. Let the faithful not be discouraged, although they be appointed as sheep to the slaughter-house ; for He, for whose sake they suffer, shall not forget to avenge their cause. I am not ignorant that flesh and blood will think that kind of support too late ; for we had rather be preserved still alive, than have our blood avenged after our death. And truly, if our felicity stood in this life, or if temporal death should bring unto us any damage, our desire in that behalf were not to be disallowed or condemned : but seeing that death is common to all, and that this temporal life is nothing but misery, and that death fully joins us with our God, and gives unto us the possession of our inheritance, why should we think it strange to leave this world, and go to our Head and sovereign Captain, Jesus Christ ? Lastly, We have to observe this manner of speaking, where the prophet saith that '' the earth shall disclose her blood :" in which words the prophet would accuse the cruelty of those that dare so unmercifully and violently force, from the breasts of the earth the dearest children of God, and cruelly cut their throats in her bosom THE SOURCE AND BOUNDS OF KINGLY POWER 227 Tvlio is by God appointed the common mother of mankind, so that she unwillingly is compelled to open her mouth and receive their blood. If such tyranny were used against any woman, as violently to pull her infant from her breasts, cut the throat of it in her own bo- som, and compel her to receive the blood of her dear child in her own mouth, all nations would hold the act so abominable that the like had never been done in the course of nature. No less wicked- ness commit they that shed the blood of God's children upon the face of their common mother, the earth, as I said before. But be of good courage, little and despised flock of Christ Jesus ! for He that seeth your grief, hath power to revenge it ; He will not suffer one tear of yours to fall, but it shall be kept and reserved in His bottle, till the fullness thereof be poured down from heaven, upon those that caused you to weep and mourn. This your merciful God, I say, will not suffer your blood forever to be covered with the earth ; nay, the flaming fires that have licked up the blood of any of our breth- ren ; the earth that has been defiled with it, I say, with the blood of God's children, (for otherwise, to shed the blood of the cruel blood- shedders, is to purge the land from blood, and as it were to sanctify it) the earth, I say, shall purge herself of it, and show it before the face of God. Yea, the beasts, fowls, and other creatures whatsoever, shall be compelled to render that which they have received, be it flesh, blood, or bones, that appertained to Thy children, Lord ! which altogether Thou shalt glorify, according to Thy promise, made to us in our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, Thy well-beloved Son ; to whom, with Thee, and the Holy Ghost, be honor, praise, and glory forever and ever. Amen. Let us now humble ourselves in the presence of our God, and from the bottom of our hearts let us desire Him to assist us with the power of His Holy Spirit ; that albeit, for our former negligence, God gives us over into the hands of others than such as rule in His fear ; that yet He let us not forget His mercy, and the glorious name that hath been proclaimed among us ; but that we may look through the dolorous storm of His present displeasure, and see as well what punishment He has appointed for the cruel tyrants, as what reward He has laid in store for such as continue in His fear to the end. That it would further please Him to assist, that albeit we see His Church so diminished, that it appears to be brought, as it were, to utter ex- termination, we may be assured that in our God there is great power and will, to increase the number of His chosen, until they are en- larged to the uttermost parts of the earth. Give us, Lord I hearts 228 JOHN KNOX. to visit Thee in time of affiction ; and albeit we see no end of our dolors, yet our faith and hope may conduct us to the assured hope of that joyful resurrection, in which we shall possess the fruit of that for which we now labor. In the mean time, grant unto us, Lord ! to repose ourselves in the sanctuary of Thy promise, that in Thee we may find comfort, till this Thy great indignation, begun among us, may pass over, and Thou Thyself appear to the comfort of Thine afflicted, and to the terror of Thine and our enemies. Let us pray with heart and mouth, Almighty God, and merciful Father, etc. Lord, unto Thy hands I commend my spirit ; for the terrible roaring of guns,* and the noise of armor, do so pierce my heart, that my soul thirsteth to depart. * The Castle of Edinburgh was shooting against the exiled for Christ Jesus' sake. DISCOURSE FIFTY-SEVENTH. KALPH ERSKINE. The name of Ersktn^e is highly distinguished among the Scottish divines ; there having been three prominent clergymen bearing this cognomen. Ralph, the brother of Ebenezer, the most eloquent preacher of the three, was born at the village of Monilaws, in Northumberland county, March 15, 1685. He entered the University of Edinburg in 1699, and commenced the study of divinity in 1704. Five years later he was licensed to preach, and in 1711 ordained to the charge of Dun- fermline. In the unhappy secession as to the " Marrow Controversy," and other matters of difference of opinion, Erskine went out of the estabhshed church, with his brother Ebenezer and others, and in 1740, for so doing, was formally cut off from that body. He nevertheless continued his useful ministry; and died on the 6th of November, 1752, his last words being, " Victory, victory, victory !" Mr. Erskine was eminent as a preacher, possessing, beside his mental accompUshments, " a pleasant voice, an agreeable manner, and a warm, pathetic address." In literary attainments he was far superior to most of the Scottish clergy of his day. His numerous and diversified publi- cations show him to have possessed acuteness of thought, energy of ex- pression, and a rich, glowing fancy. His " Gospel Sonnets" are well known. Several editions of his Sermons have appeared. His best dis- courses are those preached on sacramental occasions. That here given is the main part of one of six sermons on the same text, with a great number of heads^ doctrines^ uses, cqyplications, and exhortations. It is in the author's best style, and bears date of June, 1725. He is liere showing the qucdities of the act described. THE GATHERINa OF THE PEOPLE TO SHILOR *' The scepter shall not depart from Judah, nor the lawgiver from between his feet, un- til Shiloh come ; and unto Him shall the gathering of the people be." — Gen. xlix. 10. In this gathering unto Shiloh, the soul acts believingly ; and all the other qualities of this gathering are reducible to this, and are so 230 RALPH ERSKINE. many ways, wherein faitli acts, in coming and gathering to Christ; or how, being acted they act : and here is matter for trial ; particu- larly then, 1. In this active gathering unto Shiloh, people are made to act sinritually^ for it is a spiritual gathering, under the conduct of the Spirit of God, as a spirit of faith, making the soul to gather under the wings of Christ the Messias. It is not by natural might, but by the power of the Divine Spirit, that sinners gather to a Saviour : '' Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, saith the Lord ;" '' even the exceeding greatness of His Almighty power." There is a spiritual internal principle, from which the man acts, in his gather- ing to Shiloh, even the Spirit of God as the main, and the new heart as the subordinate principle of faith in the man. It is not the Spirit's working extrinsically upon the man ; hypocrites may have the Spirit working on them extrinsically, to the production of great affections and enlargement, while they are not savingly gathered : but this spirit- ual act is from a spiritual principle, whereof the Spirit of God within is the spring. The former is but a natural acting by some external objects, it is like a pool fed by water from the clouds ; the other is like a well fed by a spring within. QiiesL How shall I know the difference betwixt these two, viz., the Spirit's working on me by His common motions, and His work- ing in me as a living principle ? Why, the common motions of the Spirit, externally moving the affections, differ from the saving opera- tions of the Spirit internally elevating the soul to. a God in Christ, as a land-flood differs from a living spring ; the land-flood is maintained externally by the clouds, the living fountain is maintained internally by its own spring : thus the hypocrite's frames and affections are maintained only by external means and objects, such as the tuneable voice of the minister ; so Ezekiel was to his hearers as '' a Very lovely song of one that hath a pleasant voice, and can play well on an in- strument," and when the external object or excitement is over, then their frame and affection falls, because the only thing that maintained it is gone : whereas, in the spiritual acting of the soul that is gather- ing to Shilob, though faith comes by hearing externally, yet the Spirit of God being received by the hearing of faith, this internal principle of spiritual life does many times animate the soul to spirit- ual work, when all external objects and operations fail ; and this may be known, just as a spring-well is known by the bubbling up of the water. Thus is the Spirit's inhabitation known by the actino-s of the graces of the Spirit, such as faith, love, repentance, joy in the Lord and the like. THE GATHERING- OF THE PEOPLE TO SHILOH. 231 2. In gathering to Shiloh people are made to act hiowingly and judicially^ under the influences of the Spirit, as a spirit of light ; and to act as in a matter of the greatest concern, with judgment and un- derstanding, saying, as John, " To whom shall we go ? Thou hast the words of eternal life. We believe and are sure that Thou art Christ the Son of the living God." Many gather together in a con- fused way, and know not wherefore they meet together ; but this gathering includes knowledge, and saving spiritual illumination : " They that know Thy name will put their trust in Thee." They that know Him will gather to Him ; there must be a seeing of the Son, before there can be a believing in Him, or gathering to Him. Many, instead of gathering to Christ, they gather to an idol of their own fancy ; when they hear of Christ, their idolatrous carnal mind represents a carnal image of Christ in their own brain : As those that are said to have made idols according to their own understand- ing, so many in their own imagination form an idea of Christ ; and this idea or image of Christ; that they have in their own mind, is all that they have for Christ. But, sirs, when Christ is extemall}^ re- vealed in the Gospel, there must be a marvelous light discovering Him in Himself, making Him known, though not perfectly, yet really and truly as He is ; not only as He is man, but as God-man, having all the fullness of the Godhead in Him, and all the glory of God appearing in His face, so as the soul can not but cleave and ad- here to Him. A painted sun will neither give light nor heat, but the real sun gives both : so a painted image and representation of Christ in the imagination gives no spiritual light, heat, nor communicates any transforming virtue ; but the true Son of Eighteousness ariseth with healing under His wings. It is true, this light is not without mists and smoke, sent forth from the bottomless pit, to darken all ;. but 3^et there is such a clear discovery of the man's inability, of God's gracious offer, and Christ's good will and mind to the bargain, as determines the soul to its Deity. * ^ * -:f 3. In gathering to Shiloh, the people that are brought to Him^ are made to act evangelically or to believe, in a Gosjjel manner, to- receive and rest upon Him, as He is offered to us in the Gospel. There is a Gospel-ground on which the people do gather : legal faith acts upon a legal ground, such as inherent strength and natural' righteousness ; but true faith acts upon the ground of a borrowed strength, and an imputed righteousness of another, saying, " Surely in the Lord only have I righteousness and strength." This gather- ing to Shiloh is a self- renouncing business, stripping the man of his own righteousness; of his own strength, taking him entirely off his 232 RALPH ERSKINE. own bottom; they that are gathered to Christ, are gathered out of themselves. There is a Gospel-rule also, whereby they gather, in a suitableness to the Gospel-o£fer and dispensation. ** So we preach, and so ye believed." Faith answers the Gospel-call, as the impress upon the wax does answer the engravings of the seal ; so Christ offers Himself, and so sinners gather to Him, and believe in Him for wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption. Hence again, there is a Gospel-order, wherein the gathering of the people is to Him ; the soul, in coming to Him, receives first the person, and then the portion ; even as God gives Christ, and then with Him all things. The people gather to Him, in a day of Power, Jirst^ as a Jesus, and then^ as a Lord; first, for justification, and ihen^ for sanctification. Legal adventures invert this Gospel-order, seeking sanctification first, that upon that bottom it may build its justification; seeking righteousness, " as it were, by the works of the law." And however confused and indistinct the true believer's faith may be, in his first believing, yet repeated acts of faith may afterward make it more and more evident to him that right believing is in the foresaid Gospel- order. There is a Gospel warrant, upon which this gathering pro- ceeds : They that gather to Shiloh act warrantably, upon the war- rant of an objective sufficiency ; there is a sufficient Christ presented : 0, the sufficiency of His person, being God-man in one person ; the sufficiency of His offices and commission, being sealed of God to be a surety, a Saviour, a prophet, priest, and king ; the sufficiency of His righteousness. His doing and dying. His obedience and satis- faction ; the sufficiency of His power, as being able to save to the uttermost ; the sufficiencj^ of His will, while He proclaims His good will toward men ; and that God is in Christ, reconciling the world to Himself! They gather, upon the warrant of a general Gospel- dispensation of grace through Christ, in the external revelation of the word, where the elect are not characterized more than others, but life and salvation through Christ held out to sinners of man- kind, without distinction of nation, state, or condition ; and so in an indefinite way. Thus run all the promises, except these that are made to believers, or such as have grace already ; to them indeed the promises are definite, so also they are definite to the elect, in the decree of heaven ; but in the external dispensation of the Gospel, they are indefinite and general, saying. To you belong the Cove- nants and the promise ; and as the promise is indefinite, so the call is universal^ whether by exhortations, invitation, entreaties, coun- sels, or commands, to all and every one, to come and receive Christ and all His sure mercies, freely, and upon these Gospel- warrants do THE GATHERING OE THE PEOPLE TO SHILOH. 233 the people gather to Shiloli. In a word, the whole Covenant, and all the promises of it, are held forth to all the people, that they may gather to it; "I'll give thee for a Covenant of the people." Hence we are said, " to receive the promise through faith, to be persuaded of them ; and embrace them," and the faith we are called to, is said to be a *' receiving of the word," a '' taking hold of His Cove- nant/' a "believing of the testimony." Christ can not be received, but as He is offered ; He is not offered to us, but in a word, a promise, a testimony: hence the substantial act of faith being an assent, there must be a word, promise, or testimony, for faith's immediate object, wherein we see and receive Christ. If a man would see his shadow in a glass, he first looks to the glass, and through it sees his own shadow or image ; the glass is the immediate object to which his sight is directed ; so, in order to our seeing of Christ, the glass of the Gospel-promise is set before us. Thus a displayed Cove- nant of grace, as standing fast in Christ, seems to be the warrant for the gathering of the people to Shiloh. "Come and let us join ourselves to the Lord, in a perpetual Covenant (says our read- ing) that shall not be forgotten :'' I know this is viewed, by some, in another sense, with reference to our covenanting ; but I think the original reading that others notice is very pleasant and evangelical, for it may be read, " Come and let us join ourselves to the Lord, the perpetual Covenant shall not be forgotten," q. cZ., Come and let us gather together unto Shiloh; why, the everlasting Covenant, that stands fast in him, who is the All of the Covenant, shall never be forgotten : and so it may be viewed, as an encouragement of faith, and reason for the gathering of the people to Him ; behold He is given for a Covenant of the people, and this j)erpctual Covenant shall not be forgotten. Thus they are made to act evan- gelically. 4. In gathering to Shiloh, the people that are brought to Him are made to act cordially and spontaneously, with heart and will ; yea, with a thousand good wills ; " take my heart," sajs the man, in the day of power, "take it, and a thousand blessings with it." It is true, there is no gathering, no approaching to Him, without a draught of Omnipotency ; yet there is no violence in it, no force or compulsion, but when power comes, it takes away the backward- ness and unwillingness. " Thy people shall be willing." Never did a mariner draw near to a shore with better will, after shipwreck, than the soul comes to Christ, in the day of power ; the person being drawn, yields necessarily and willingly both : Draw me, we will run after Thee ; Draw me, there is the Almighty power ex- 234 RALPH ERSKINE. erted, in its irresistible operation ; we loill run, there is the volun- tary motion of the soul : so that this gathering does not destroy, but establish the liberty of the will of the rational agent. Eeason is not hoodwinked, the person approaches to a God in Christ, upon the most rational grounds, seeing and apprehending His misery while far from God, and the happiness of nearness to Him in Christ. And this gathering is as cordial as it is voluntary ; as the will is inclined, so the heart is inflamed. Hypocrites may gather to ordinances, and gather to a communion-table with the outward man ; they may draw near to God with the mouth, and honor Him with the lip, while the heart is far removed from Him. This is what God complains of, ** Their heart is far from Me :" But w^hat do I regard a gathering of dead corpses about My table and ordinances, a gathering of bodies, while there is no gathering of hearts ? But in this gracious gather- ing, the language of the soul is, 0, many a time I have given my heart away to the devil ; I gave my heart and affections away to lusts ; I gave my heart away to the world ; and now, shall I give Christ less than I gave them? It will be a miracle if He accept of it, after my manifold departures ; but 0, if I had as many souls as I had sins, I would give them to Him ! 0, if I could believe in Him with the w^hole heart, j)ray to Him with the whole heart, serve Him with the whole heart; and that all my affections, that have been struggling among the creatures, may be gathered to Him, and cen- tered in Him ! Yea, in the day of powxr, a man finds himself so wilhngly and freely to come to Christ, that he is rolled upon Him, as if He were carried on a wave of the sea, or rather in a chariot paved with love : formerly he found believing hard, yea, that it was im- possible for him to come to Christ ; but now he finds it impossible for him to stay away from Christ : believing is so sweet and easy then, that, as if he had wings, he flees for refuge to the hope set be- fore him. Though, as a great divine (viz.. Dr. Owen) expresses it, faith is in the understanding, in respect of its being and subsist- ence ; yet it is in the will and heart, in respect of its effectual work- ing : as to its essence, it lies in assent, but the saving quality of this assent is, that it is cordial ; and it is not true faith, if it be not a cor- dial assent to God's testimony concerning Christ. And indeed there is a great difference betwixt a dead assent, and a cordial hearty as- sent to any truth: suppose (says one) you were in a foreio-u land and that you got a sure account that the Turks have got a victory over the Persians ; and at the same time you hear that your beloved spouse is recovered of a dangerous disease, that all your family is well, and your affairs prosper : there is a great difference betwixt THE GATHERINa OF THE PEOPLE TO SHILOH. 235 the way of assenting to these two ; you believe the former, but it hath no impression on your heart, it is only a naked, heartless, un- concerned assent ; but you would believe the other cordially and gladly, because you are much concerned therein : hence you would welcome the messenger. Thus the Gospel is not only a faithful say- ing, but worthy of all acceptation ; and in gathering to Christ, in the day of power, the soul acts cordially. 5. In this gathering of the people to Shiloh, they are made to act humbly and reverentially ; the man comes with a *' What am I, and what is my father's house ?" Behold I am vile, and if the Lord shall have mercy on me, it is well, grace shall have the glory ; but if not, I may even preach His righteousness in hell, and declare He never wronged me, He is a just God. the soul acts humbly in the day of powerful gathering, '^ That thou may est remember, and be confounded, and never open thy mouth, because of thy shame, when I am pacified toward thee for all that thou hast done." but a soul convinced of its own un worthiness and desert of hell, and that scarce can expect any thing but utter damnation, how does the first dawn- ing of mercy melt and humble it ! whence is this to such a worm as I ! He stands behind Christ weeping, and washing His feet with tears. When one of the first works of the Spirit in conversion, is to give the soul a light in its hand, to go down to the dark cellars of his heart and make discoveries, so as he stands amazed, trembling at the sight of himself, and the next work of the Spirit is to lead him to the lightsome chamber of the King of glory, to bring him from darkness to light, how is he melted with a sense of mercy, and humbled with a sense of his own monstrous vileness ! " Now mine eyes see Thee, wherefore I abhor myself" in such a day, the man sees his heart vile, his lips vile, his practice vile, his righteousness vile and filthy rags ; he sees in his bosom, as it were, an hell of dev- ils and unclean spirits, that when he thinks on himself it makes him loathe and scunner, as it were, like a man ready to bock or vomit when he sees some filthy thing, especially among his meat ; or as a man's flesh will creep when he sees some filthy venomous toad or viper ; so it is with these that see themselves in the Lord's light, in the day of their gathering to Sbiloh. They that were never hum- bled, were never gathered, and they that have been deeply humbled, have come to God with ropes about their necks, as worthy to be cast over the gibbet, and hanged over the fire of God's everlasting ven- geance ; they have been humbled to the dust, yea, humbled to noth- ing before the Lord, and to a thousand times less and worse than nothing ; yea, they can not see such vile monsters among all the 236 RALPH ERSKINE. devils in hell as themselves ; they come, therefore, with humility, reverence, and godly fear. 6. In this gathering of the people to Shiloh, under the influence of gathering power and grace, they are made to act boldly^ though humbly, ''Let us come boldly to the throne of grace." *' We have boldness to enter into the holiest by the blood of Jesus." " In whom we have boldness, and access with confidence, by the faith of Him." Here is the boldness of Faith in opposition to the boldness of presumption. Bold faith comes walking on a sea of blood, or rather upon the red and white pavement of the active and passive obedience of Christ. This boldness of faith's approach to a God in Christ is remarkable for several things : — it is remarkable for the vehemency that is sometimes in it ; how vehemently does the soul act when it is laying siege to heaven, by the prayer of faith and im- portunate supplication, crying, '' Lord, I believe, help my unbelief;" Lord, increase my faith ; Lord, give a drink of the water of the well of Bethlehem ! for a drop of the precious blood of the Lamb I man, woman, where are the bedsides and secret corners that can bear witness to your besieging heaven with your vehement cries ? It is remarkable for the violence that is in it ; "• The kingdom of heaven suffers violence, and the violent take it by force." The man acts as it were violently; *' If I perish, I perish," at Christ I must be. It acts in a manner willfully ; " Though He slay me^ yet will I trust in Him ; I will not let Thee go, except Thou bless me." The soul, as it were, violently casts itself upon the free grace and faithfulness of God, in the greatest distress ; and here it lies, as it were, at anchor in such stormy days. It is remarkable for the confidence that is in it : it hath the confidence to give God a testimonial, as it were ; when fiuth is acted, not only does God give the man a testi- monial, " Enoch had this testimony, that he pleased God ; but with- out Faith it is impossible to please Him;" but what is yet more strange, faith not only gets a testimonial from God, but gives a testi- monial to Him, " He that hath received his testimony hath set to his seal that God is true." Here is the confidence and assurance of faith ; it acts upon an infallible testimony of the Divine veracity and faithfulness ; a '' Thus saith the Lord," is the firm foundation upon which faith is built. It is a receiving the record of God ; and all acts of faith without this, are but as so many arrows shot at random in the open air. Many a confident address does faith make ; it ventures to go as far ben, as "the Holy of holies, by the blood of Jesus ;" it ventures the soul upon the blood of the Son of God, and upon the promise of a God in Christ : here is the boldness of faith. To o^ather THE GATHERINa OF THE PEOPLE TO SHILOH. 237 in to Sliiloli and believe in Him, is in effect to say, I adventure my soul upon nothing in the world, but upon the promise of a Grod that I have provoked, and been an enemy to all my days ; I have noth- ing but the word of this God, and yet I must adventure upon it even my everlasting all. It is an adventuring act, like Peter upon the boisterous water, with this in his mouth and heart, '' Master, save me." To venture upon the promise of a provoked God, and to believe Him to be a God in Christ reconciled according to His word, •upon account of the ransom He hath found out, and the propitiation He hath set forth : here is the boldness of faith. And again^ it is remarkable for its resoluteness ; the person, like the woman with the bloody issue, presses resolutely through crowds of devils and lusts, and with an irresistible intenseness of soul, forces a passage through all obstructions, to get a touch of the scepter of King Jesus. We are called to "come with full assurance of faith," with a holy resolution and courage. "When a poor trembling Eoman approached the Em- peror Augustus, he was in some fear: " What," says the Emperor, *' take you me for an elephant that will tear you ?" So we should come with boldness to Christ. He encourages the worst of sinners ; He hath given His word for it, which is firm as the pillars of heaven and earth, and stable like mountains of brass, that "him that cometh He will in no wise cast out." When he comes at first He will not cast him out ; when he comes again afterward. He will not cast him out ; he will not cast out the vilest and most desperate sinner that comes ; He will not cast him out of His favor now. He will not cast him out of heaven at last ; no, no, " He will in nowise cast him out." We may gather to Shiloh, and come with the greatest boldness ; and welcome, welcome, welcome shall we be forever. In a word, this boldness is remarkable for the solemnity that is in it ; it is a solemn gathering : the people that gather to Shiloh come to Him with a behold, " Behold, we come unto Thee ; for Thou art the Lord our God." The heart goes out' with some kind of eminency and solem- nity : '' Behold we come ;" let heaven and earth be witnesses ; we take instruments, as it were, in every angel's hand, in every crea- ture's hand, in every spire of grass's hand, that we are come back to a God in Christ ; we are satisfied the whole universe attest, and behold what we are going to do ; not that the believer loves to blaze abroad his religion indecently — no, it is especially a silent, secret, heart-gathering and soul-approach to Shiloh ; but they are so far from being ashamed of the match, and so well pleased are they with it, that they are content it be registrate in heaven, and that the whole 238 RALPH ERSKINE. creation attest it ; " Beliold we come !" The man acts witH a solemn boldness. The qualities of this penitential approacli you may see. And this penitential acting of faitli runs through the whole of the be- liever's life in a universal tenderness of disposition and deportment, according to the measure of faith : and there are six tender things in it which the believer hath. 1. He hath a tender heart, called a broken and contrite heart, broken for sin and from sin ; Josiah's heart was tender. 2. A tender conscience ; some have a conscience seared as with a hot iron, and that is a silent conscience ; but the penitent hath a smitten conscience, as David's heart smote him, when he cut off the loop of Saul's garment. 3. A tender eye : " They shall look on Him whom they have pierced, and mourn ;" rivers of tears run down their eyes, because of their own sins, and the sins of others, who break God's law. 4. A tender ear, which being circum- cised, does hear and fear: "To this man will I look, even to him that is poor, and of a contrite heat, and trembles at My word." 5. A tender lip or tongue, that dare not lie, nor speak profanely: "I said, I Avill take heed to my ways, that I sin not with my tongue." And 6, A tender hand, that dares not touch the garments spotted with the flesh, but studies to shun all appearances of evil ; or, if you will, you may add, lastly, that he hath a tender foot, saying with Hezekiah, "I will go softly all my years in the bitterness of my soul." And this leads to another quality of this regular approach. 2dly. When there is a gathering to Shiloh, the regular approach and address to Him is made obedientially, as well as penitentially ; it is an obediential gathering : and as faith acts penitentially, so it acts obe- dientially ; for "it works by love," " It purifies the heart;" "and the man that hath it purifies himself, even as God is pure." It stirs up to new obedience ; for ^' faith without works is dead." Wherever it is, it is still working, and it can no more be idle than the fire can be. It is true " we are justified by faith without works," as the Apostle says, that is without the causality of works, without the conditionality of works, without the instrumentality of works, and without the influence of works upon our justification ; but not with- out the presence of works ; for justifying faith is a sanctifying thing, and natively works, as the fire natively burns : Common faith is a dead useless faith, making no change or alteration on the soul where it is ; but saving faith acts always obedientially ; hence you read of '' the obedience of fliith, importing both that faith acts in obedience to the Divine call at first, and that it influences the soul to all the acts of Gospel obedience afterward. 0, says the returning sinner THE GATHERING OF THE PEOPLE TO SKILOH. 239 that is making tliis obediential address to a God in Christ, I have been a fugitive servant to the most glorious Lord and Master ; I have deserted His service, and denied my obedience ; but now, Lord, nail my ear to Thy door-post, that I may serve Thee forever ; nail my heart to Thy service, that no trouble, temptation, devil or deser- tion may drive me away from Thee ; nail my eyes to Thy service, that I may never look upon vanity ; nail my hands to Thy service that I may never do an ill turn ; nail my feet to Thy way, that I may never turn aside from Thee : let all the faculties of my soul be nailed to Thy service and obedience. 3dly. When there is a gather- ing to Shiloh, the regular address to Him is made speedily ; the. poor soul, that sees itself ready to drop into hell, how speedily, in the day of power, does it flee unto Christ ! "I flee to Thee to hide me," says the Psalmist. The flight of faith is veryquick^ quick and swift as lightning, that goes from the one end of heaven to the other in an instant ; so when the soul is on the wing, under the influence of the spirit of faith, it can flee from earth to heaven in a moment. But this speedy gathering, I understand especially in opposition to delays, which are dangerous in religon : to delay coming to Christ for one half hour, is dangerous exceedingly ; for, if you die within that half hour, you are undone to eternity. Now, in a day of powerful gathering, the soul makes no longer delay, but is in a holy haste, " I made haste, and delayed not to keep Thy righteous judgments." The man is made to fly with speed, and to run with haste out of Sodom. 4thly. When there is a gathering to Shiloh, the regular approach and address to him is made deliberately ; though it is with speed, yet it is with dehberation. Though none can believe too soon by a saving faith, yet some believe too soon by a temporary faith, never having weighed matters in the balance of the sanctuary. The true approacher puts the matter in a fair balance ; he puts the disadvantages in one scale, saying, What will be my fare if I come not to Christ? Why, " They that are far from Him shall perish." He puts the advantages in another scale, and comes at length to that conclusion. " It is good for me to draw near to God." 0, of all the gatherings, the gathering to Shiloh is best ; "To whom shall I go ? He hath the words of eternal life." The man is not affected only with a transient flash ; no, he sees the wicked oft in prosperity, and the godly in adversity ; he sees the large and al- luring offers that sin, Satan and the world make ; and yet after all, he deliberately afSrms, It is good for me to draw near to God and Christ : let others say, " Who will show us any good ?" but my say shall be, " Lord, lift Thou up the light of Thy countenance on 240 RALPH ERSKINE. me. Stilly, When there is a gathering to Shiloh, the regular ap- proach and address is made chastely and uprightly. The soul views the saying, that Christ came to save sinners from sin and wrath, not only as a fliithful saying, but as worthy of all acceptation ; because the beauty of Christ is discovered. Some have their reason con- quered, but not their love; and therefore they come to Christ feignedly, and not with the whole heart ; their judgment draws one way, and their affections another ; for their judgment is gained, but not their affections : as if one should marry a woman, not because of her beauty, but because of her patrimony ; not from love to her person, but love to her portion. Some take on with Christ, and take hold of the skirt of this Jew, who yet see '' No form or comeliness in Him, for which He should be desired." But as it is said, " The up- right love Thee ;" so they that in gathering to Him act chastely and uprightly, they come to Him out of pure love, not for servile ends, not to gratify a natural conscience, not for fear of hell only, but from a great love to Him, and a just esteem of Him, and a strong desire of fellowsliip with Him. The man is content to come to Christ on Mount Calvary, as well as on Mount Tabor ; when going to Gol- gotha in ignominy, as well as when riding to Jerusalem in triumph : he cleaves to Him, when people cry, " Away w^ith Him, away with Him ; crucify Him ;" as ^vell as when they cry, " Hosanna to the Son of David." He loves Him when lying in a grave, as well as when mounted on a throne. The chaste and upright comer cleaves to Him, wdien kings and princes are against Him, when laws and governments are against Him, when potentates and parliaments are against Him, as well as when they seem to be upon His side. It is too true indeed, that there are many unchaste thoughts, and looks, and lustings after idols in the hearts of true believers, and many de- fections and declinings may take place ; but these are wrestled with and opposed by them, and that not only by their light and con- science, but by their love and affection to the Lord Jesus, saying, '' shall I thus requite the Lord ?" So that in the main they are upright. But, to the same purpose, 6thly. When there is a gather- ing of the people to Shiloh, the right and regular approach and ad- dress to Him is made entirely and undividedly. False and hypo- critical comers come with a divided heart to a divided Christ; but true comers, with a whole heart to a whole Christ. The leo-alist would marry Christ, while yet his other husband the law is not dead to him, nor he dead to it; but it is an adulterous and unlawful match, to join with another husband while the first is livino-. Hence true believers in Christ are said to be *' Dead to the law by THE GATHERING OF THE PEOPLE TO SHILOH. 241 the body of Christ, that they might be married to another," etc. And God casts down the old building, turns him out of that shelter, lets him see all his legal duties, best performances, and most glaring graces, are but fig-leaves, insufficient to cover his nakedness ; and discovers the necessity, excellency and glory of Christ's righteous- ness ; and the man submits cordially to it, renouncing all hope and expectation of life, favor and justification by the deeds of the law. The carnal man would have Christ and his lusts too ; " But if you seek Me," says Christ, " let these go their way." Gatheriug grace makes the man say, " What have I to do any more with idols ?" The covetous man would have Christ and the world too ; Christ satisfies his conscience, and he flees to Him for that ; the world satisfies his heart, and he cleaves to it for that: but in the day of gathering power, the emptiness of the world is discovered, and the man sells all for the pearl of great price. The man that comes to Christ, comes for all these four things. For Wisdonij Righteousness^ Sanctification^ and Redemption ; he comes to Him as a Prophet for wisdom, as a Priest for righteousness, as a King for sanctification, and as his All in all for complete redemp- tion : and he can want none of these, because he knows his own foolishness, guiltiness, filthiness, and misery. The true believer dares not divide righteousness from sanctification, nor pardon from purity ; yea, he comes to Christ for remission of sin for the right end. What is that ? Namely, that, being freed from the guilt of sin, he may be freed from the dominion of it. Knowing that there is forgiveness with Him that He may be feared, he does not believe remission of sin that he may indulge himself in the commission of it. ISTo, no; the blood of Christ, that purges the conscience from the guilt of sin, does also purge the conscience from dead works to serve the living God. They that come to Christ regularly then, come so to Him for righteousness, that they may have Him also for sanctification; otherwise the man does not really desire the favor and enjoyment of God, or to be in friendship with Him who is a holy God. As the true lover loves Him, not only because He is good and merciful, but because He is a pure and holy Jesus ; so the true believer employs Christ for making him holy as well as happy ; and hence draws virtue from Him for killing of sin, and quickening the soul in the way of duty : and indeed the faith that can never keep you from a sin, will never keep you out of hell ; and the faith that can not carry you to a duty, will not carry you to heaven. Justifying faith is a sanctifying grace, it improves Christ undividedly. 'Tis true, as it sanctifies it does not justify ; but that 16 242 RALPH ERSKINE. faith that justifies, does also sanctify: as the sun that enlightens hath heat with it, but it is not the heat of the sun that enlightens, but the light thereof; so that faith that justifies hath love and sanctity with it, but it is not the love and sanctity that justifies, but faith as closing with Christ. Tthly. When there is a gathering of the peo- ple to Shiloh, the regular approach and address to him is made ex- clusively^ excluding all other saviours, all other helps, all other props, saying, "I will make mention of Thy righteousness, and of Thine only." To depend partly upon Christ, and partly upon onr own righteousness, is to set one foot upon firm ground, and another upon quicksand. If a man set one foot upon a rock, and another upon the deep water, and lean to them both with equal weight, yea, if he give any of his weight to the foot that is on the water, he will be sure to sink into the deep : so here. Therefore, in the day of gath- ering to Christ, the soul is brought to say, " Surely in the Lord only have I righteousness and strength," Thus Paul excludes the best righteousness that ever he had, either before or after conversion, from the matter of his justification. "When he compares his best righteousness with Christ's, he looks upon it as a dunghill, a stinking dunghill where there is no pleasure, and a sinking dunghill where there is no standing. Such is our righteousness, if it be not ex- cluded from our justification before God, and acceptance with Him. If we go about to establish our own righteousness, it stinks in the Divine nostrils as dung: and not only so, but it is a sinking ground to stand upon, there 's no firm footing ; the more a man leans to it, the more he sinks in it. Christ's blood is the only sacrifice of a sweet-smelling savor to God ; every sacrifice stinks, that is not per- fumed therewith : Christ's righteousness is the only sure foundation and firm ground for standing upon before God. As the way of sin is a sinking way, so the way of self-righteousness is little better ; for the sin that is in man's best righteousness trips up his heels, and lays him in the dirt, where he sinks to hell, if he be not brought to build upon a surer ground, and to take a better way. 8thly. When there is a gathering to Shiloh, the regular approach and address to him is made progressively^ as also peremptorily and irreversibly, saying, "Henceforth we will not go back." 0, after we have tasted the bit- terness of sin, and the bitterness of wrath, after the wings of our souls have been singed with the flames of hell, after the arrows of conviction shot out of the bow of Omni^Dotence have pierced our souls, so as no man, minister or angel, could pull them out, Christ did it with His own hand, and therein manifested His powerful Grace, as being the man of God's right hand, shall we a^ain turn THE GATHERINa OF THE PEOPLE TO SHILOH. 243 our back upon Him ? No, hencefortli througli grace we will not go back. The true believer comes to Christ, so as never to part with Him, saying, as Euth to Naomi. " Entreat me not to leave Thee, or to return from following after Thee : for whither Thou goest, I will go ; and where Thou lodgest, I will lodge : Thy people shall be my people, and Thy God my God. Nothing shall part Thee and me." Yea, the man, having once come to Christ, is aye coming nearer and nearer to Him. " To whom coming, as to a living stone, ye are built up a spiritual house ;" the building goes up gradually, and is still going forward. Some professors are like the mill-wheel ; it goes round, yet still it stands in the same place where it was : they go the round of duties, and morning and evening prayers, and attend Sabbath and week-day sermons, which is well done ; but they are at a stand, they are the same now that they were ten, twenty years ago, if not worse. But, in gathering to Shiloh, the people are made to advance nearer and nearer to heaven, getting more knowledge, more experience, more hatred of sin, more love and likeness to Christ. It is true, the saints themselves have their winter- decays, but they have also their summer revivings that set them forward again. And thus " The path of the just is as the shining light, which shineth more and more to a perfect day. DISCOURSE FIFTY-EIGHTH, JOHN M'LAUIIIN. M'Lafriit was one of the brightest ornaments of the Christian churches of his time. He was born at Glenderule, in Argyleshire, where his father was minister, in the year 1693. His studies were pur- sued at Glasgow and Ley den. In 1717 he was Hcensed to preach, and in 1719 ordained minister of Luss, a county parish, situated on the banks of Loch Lomond, about twenty miles north of Glasgow. In 1723 he became minister in the city of Glasgow, where he died in September, 1754. M'Laurin was a correspondent of President Edwards ; and between these two eminent and devoted ministers there existed great mutual affection and Christian regard. It is not often that profound piety, im- wearied activity, and the highest order of intellectual endowments have been more happily united than in M'Laurin. The fruits of his pen that remain are few, but of sterUng value. They consist mamly in essays and sermons, and an octavo volume on the " Prophecies Concerning the Messiah," the repubhcation of which in this country would be an accepta- ble service to many. The Presbyterian Board of Publication in Phila- delphia have issued his sermons and essays in one 12mo vohmie. For imiDressive eloquence he has nothing else equal to the sermon here given. It is a masterpiece ; and though the several parts do not possess the same degree of merit, any portion of it is too good to be omitted, so that we give it entire. GLOEYING IN THE CEOSS OF CHEIST. " But God forbid that I should glorj, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world." — Galatians, vi. 14. It is an old and useful observation, that many of the most excel- lent objects in the world are objects whose excellency does not ap- pear at first view ; as, on the other hand, many things of little value GLORTIN& IN THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 245 appear more excellent at first, than a nearer view discovers them to be. There are some things we admire, because we do not know them ; and the more we know them, the less we admire them : there are other things we despise through ignorance, because it requires pains and application to discover their beauty and excellency. This holds true in nothing more than in that glorious, despised object mentioned in the text. There is nothing the world is more divided about in its opinion, than this. To the one part, it is alto- gether contemptible ; to the other, it is altogether glorious. The one part of the world wonders what attractions others find in it ; and the other part wonders how the rest of the world are so stupid as not to see them ; and are amazed at the blindness of others, and their own former blindness. It is said of the famous reformer Melancthon, when he first saw the glory of this object at his conversion, that he imagined that he could easily, by plain persuasion, convince others of it ; that the matter being so plain, and the evidence so strong, he did not see how, on a fair representation, any could stand out against it. But, upon trial, he was forced to express himself with regret, *'that old Adam was too strong for young Melancthon ; and that human corruption was too strong for human persuasion, without Divine grace." The true use we should make of this is, certainly, to apply for that enlightening grace to ourselves which the Apostle Paul prays for, in the behalf of the Ephesians : '' That the God of our Lord Jesus Christ may give unto us the spirit of wisdom and revelation in the knowledge of Him." But, as here, and in other cases, prayer and means should be joined together, so one of the chief means of a right knowledge of the principal object of our faith, and ground of our hope, is to meditate on the glory of that object, asserted so strongly in this text ; and that by one who formerly had as dimin- ishing thoughts of it as any of its enemies can have. In the verses preceding the text, the apostle tells the Galatians what some false teachers among them gloried in ; here he tells what he himself gloried in. They gloried in the old ceremonies of the Jewish law, which were but shadows ; he gloried in the cross of Christ, the substance. He knew it was an affront to the substance, to continue these shadows in their former force, after the substance itself appeared ; therefore he rejects that practice with zeal, and, at the same time, confines his own glorying to that blessed object, which the shadows were designed to signify. " God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ." 24:6 JOHN M'LAURIN. Here the apostle showeth us botli liis higli esteem of the cross of Christ, and the powerful influence of it upon his mind. The cross of Christ signifies, in Scripture, sometimes our sufferings for Christ, sometimes His sufferings for us. As the latter is the chief and most natural sense of the words, so there is reason to think it is the sense of the apostle here. This is the sense of the same expression in the twelfth verse of this chapter, which speaks of persecution (that is, our suffering) for the cross of Christ, namely, the doctrine of Christ's cross. Besides, it is certain, that it is not our sufferings, but Christ's sufferings, which we are chiefly to glory in, to the exclusion of all other things ; and it is not the former chiefly, but the latter, that mortifies our corruptions, and crucifies the world to us. The cross of Christ may signify here, not only His death but the whole of His humiliation, or all the sufferings of His life and death ; of which sufferings the cross was the consummation. The apostle, both here and elsewhere, mentions the cross, to remind us of the manner of His death, and to strengthen in our minds those impres- sions which the condescension of that death had made, or ought to have made, in them. That the Author of liberty should suffer the death of a slave ; the Fountain of honor, the height of disgrace ; and that the punishments which were wont to be inflicted upon the mean- est persons for the highest offenses, should be inflicted on the greatest Person that could suffer ; this is the object that the apostle gloried in. There are not two things more opposite than glory and shame ; here the apostle joins them together. The cross, in itself, is an ob- ject full of shame ; in this case, it appeareth to the apostle full of glory. It had been less remarkable had he only said he gloried in his Eedeemer's exaltation after He left the world, or in the glory He had with the Father before He came to it, yea, before the world was: but the object of the apostle's glorying is the Eedeemer, not only considered in the highest state of honor and dignity, but even viewed in the lowest circumstances of disgrace and ignominy ; not only as a powerful and exalted, but as a condemned and crucified Saviour. Glorying signifies the highest degree of esteem: the cross of Christ was an object of which the apostle had the most exalted sen- timents, and the most profound veneration ; this veneration he took pleasure to avow before the world, and was ready to publish on all occasions. This object so occupied his heart and engrossed his af- fections, that it left no room for any thing else — he gloried in noth- ing else. And, as he telleth us in other places, he counted every thing else but loss and dung, and would know nothing else, and was determined about it. GLORYING IN THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 247 The manner of expressing his esteem of this object has a re- markable force and vehemence in it : '' God forbid !" or, Let it by no means happen. As if he had said, ''God forbid, whatever others do, that ever it should be said that Paul, the old persecutor, should glory in any thing else but in the crucified Eedeemer ; who plucked him as a brand out of the fire, when he was running further and further into it ; and who pursued him with mercy and kindness, when he was pursuing Him in His members with fierceness and cruelty. I did it through ignorance (and it is only through ignor- ance that any despise Him). He has now revealed Himself to me ; and God forbid that the light that met me at Damascus should ever go out of my mind. It was a light full of glory ; the object it dis- covered was all glorious — my all in all ; and God forbid that I should glory in any thing else." His esteem of that blessed object was great, and its influence on him was proportionable. By it the world was crucified to him and he was crucified to the world. Here is a mutual crucifixion. His esteem of Christ was the cause why the world despised him, and was despised by him. Not that the cross made him hate the men of the world, or refuse the lawful enjoyments of it ; it allowed him the use of the latter, and obliged him to love the former. But it crucified those corruptions which are contrary both to the love of our neighbor and the true enjoyment of the creature. This is called fighting, warring, wrestling and killing. The reason is, because we should look upon sin as our greatest enemy ; the greatest enemy of our souls, and of the Saviour of our souls. This was the view the apostle had of sin, and of the corruption of the world through lust. He looked upon it as the murderer of his Eedeemer ; and this in- spired him with a just resentment against it. It filled him with those blessed passions against it, mentioned by himself, as the native fruits of faith and repentance ; zeal, indignation, revenge ; that is, such a detestation of sin, as was joined with the most careful watchfulness against it. This is that crucifying of the world meant by the apostle. The reason of the expression is, because the inordinate love of worldly things is one of the chief sources of sin. The cross of Christ gave such a happy turn to the apostle's affections, that the world was no more the same thing to him that it was to others, and that it had been formerly to himself His soul was sick of its jDomp ; and the things he was most fond of before, had now lost their relish with him. Its honors appeared now contemptible, its riches poor, its pleasures nauseous ; its examples and favors did not allure, nor 248 JOHN M'LATTRIN. its hatred terrify him. He considered the love or hatred of men, not chiefly as it affected him, but themselves, bv furthering or hin- dering the success of his doctrine among them. All these things may be included in that " crucifying of the world" mentioned in the last clause of the verse ; but the intended ground of the discourse being the first clause, the doctrine to be insisted on is this : "That the cross of Christ affords sinners matter of glorying above all other things : yea, that it is, in a manner, the only thing they should glory in. The whole humiliation of Christ, and partic- ularly His death for the sake of sinners, is an object that has such incomparable glory in it, that it becomes us to have the most hon- orable and exalted thoughts of it." As this is evidently contained in the text, so it is frequently inculcated on us in other Scriptures. It is plain that when the Scriptures speak of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ, it is meant chiefly of His glory in the face of Christ crucified; that is, in the work of redemption finished on the cross. In discoursing on this subject, it will be proper, first, to consider briefly, What it is to glory in any object ; and then, What ground of glorying we have in this blessed object proposed in the text. To glory in any object includes these two things : first, a high esteem of it ; and then, some concern in it. We do not glory in the things we are interested in unless we esteem them ; nor in the things we admire and esteem, unless we are some way interested in them. But although all professing Christians are some wa}^ concerned to glory in the cross of Christ, because the blessed fruits of His cross are both plainly revealed, and freely offered to them ; yet, it is those only who have sincerely embraced these offers, that can truly glory in that object. Yet, what is their privilege, is the duty of all. All should be exhorted to glory in this object, and to have a high es- teem of it, because of its excellency in itself ; to ^x. their hearts on it by faith, because it is offered to them ; to show their esteem of it by seeking an interest in it ; and, having a due esteem of it, and obtained an interest in it, to study a frame of habitual triumph in it. But the nature of this happy frame of mind is best imderstood by considering the glory of the object of it. The ancient prophets who foretold Christ's coming, appear trans- ported with the view of His glory. Not only the New Testament, but also the Old, represents the Messiah as the most remarkable and most honorable Person that ever appeared on the stage of the world. It speaks of Him as a glorious Governor, a Prince, a King, a Con- queror, besides other magnificent titles of the greatest dignity ; show- GLORTINa IN THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 249 ing ttat His government should be extensive and everlasting, and that His glory should fill the whole earth. But, while the prophets foretell His greatness, they foretell also His meanness. They show, indeed. He was to be a glorious King, but a King who would be rejected and despised of men ; and that, after all the great expecta- tion the world would have of Him, He was to pass over the stage of the world disregarded and unobserved, excepting as to the ma- licious treatment He was to meet with on it. About the time of His coming, the Jews were big with hopes of Him, as the great Deliverer and chief ornament of their nation. And if history be credited, even the heathens had a notion about that time, which probably was derived from the Jewish prophecies, that there was a Prince of unparalleled glory to rise in the East, and even in Judea in particular, who was to found a kind of uni- versal monarchy. But their vain hearts, like those of most men in all ages, were so intoxicated with the admiration of worldly pomp, that that was the only greatness they had any notion or relish of. This made them form a picture of Him who was the desire of all nations, very unlike the original. A king whom the world admires, is one of extensive power, with numerous armies, a golden crown and scepter, a throne of state, magnificent palaces, sumptuous feasts, many attendants of high rank, immense treasures to enrich them with, and various posts of honor to prefer them to. Here was the reverse of all this. For a crown of gold, a crown of thorns ; for a scepter, a reed put in His hand in derision ; for a throne, a cross. Instead of palaces, not a place to lay His head ; in- stead of sumptuous feasts to others, ofttimes hungTy and thirsty Himself; instead of great attendants, a company of poor fishermen; instead of treasures to give them, not money enough to pay tribute without working a miracle ; and the preferment offered them, was to give each of them His cross to bear. In all things the reverse of worldly greatness, from first to last. A manger for a cradle at His birth ; not a place to lay His head sometimes in His life ; nor a grave of His own at His death. Here unbelief frets and murmurs, and asks. Where is all the glory that is so much extolled ? For discovering this, faith needs only look through that thin vail of flesh, and under that low dis- guise appears the Lord of glory, the King of kings, the Lord of hosts, strong and mighty. The Lord, mighty in battle ; the heavens His throne ; the earth His footstool ; the light His garments, the clouds His chariots ; the thunder His voice ; His strength omnipo- 250 JOHN M'LAURIN. tence ; His riclies all-sufficiencj ; His glory infinite ; His retinue ttie hosts of heaven, and the excellent ones of the earth ; on whom He bestows riches unsearchable, an inheritance incorruptible, banquets of everlasting joys, and preferments of immortal honor; making them kings and priests unto God ; conquerors : yea, and more than conquerors — children of God, and mystically one with Himself Here appears something incomparably above all worldly glory, though under a mean disguise. But the objection is still against that disguise. Yet even that disguise, upon due consideration, will appear to be so glorious, that its very meanness is honorable. It was a glorious disguise, because the designs and effects of it are so. If He suffered shame, poverty, pain, sorrows, and death for a time, it w^as that we might not suffer these things forever. That mean- ness, therefore, was glorious, because it was subservient unto an infinitely glorious design of love and mercy. It was subservient more ways than one. It satisfied the penalty of the law ; it put unspeakable honor on the commandments of it. It was a part of Christ's design to make holiness (that is, obedience to the law) so honorable, that every thing else should be contempti- ble in comparison of it. Love of worldly greatness is one of the piinciple hinderances of it. We did not need the example of Christ to commend earthly grandeur to us ; but very much to reconcile us to the contrary, and to make us esteem holiness, though accompa- nied with meanness. Christ's low state was an excellent means for that end. There was therefore greatness, even in His meanness. Other men are honorable by their station ; but Christ's station was made honorable by Him; He has made poverty and meanness, joined with holiness, to be a state of dignity. Thus Christ's outward meanness, that disguised His real gi^eat- ness, was in itself glorious, because of the design of it. Yet that meanness did not wholly becloud it ; many beams of glory shone through it. His birth was mean on earth below ; but it was celebrated with hallelujas by the heavenly host in the air above. He had a poor lodging, but a star lighted visitants to it from distant countries. Never prince had such visitants so conducted. He had not the magnificent equipage that other kings have ; but He was attended with multitudes of patients, seeking and obtaining healirg of soul and body. That was more true greatness than if He had been attended with crowds of princes. He made the dumb that at- tended Him sing His praises, and the lame to leap for joy; the deaf to hear His wonders, and the blind to see His glory. He had aLORTINa IN THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 251 no guard of soldiers, nor magnificent retinue of servants : but, as tlie centurion, that liad both, acknowledged, health and sickness, life and death, took orders from Him. Even the winds and storms, which no earthly power can control, obeyed Him ; and death and the grave durst not refuse to deliver up their prey when He de- manded it. He did not walk upon tapestry ; but when He walked on the sea, the waters supported Him. All parts of the creation, excepting sinful men, honored Him as their Creator. He kept no treasure ; but when He had occasion for money, the sea sent it to Him in the mouth of a fish. He had no barns nor corn-fields ; but when He inclined to make a feast, a few small loaves covered a suffi- cient table for many thousands. None of all the monarchs of the world ever gave such entertainment. By these, and many such things, the Eedeemer's glory shone through His meanness, in the several parts of His hfe. Nor was it wholly clouded at His death. He had not, indeed, that fantastic equipage of sorrow that other great persons have on such occasions ; but the frame of nature sol- emnized the death of its Author ; heaven and earth were mourners. The sun was clad in black ; and if the inhabitants of the earth were unmoved, the earth itself trembled under the awful load. There were few to pay the Jewish compliment of rending their garments ; but the rocks were not so insensible — they rent their bowels. He had not a grave of His own ; but other men's graves opened to Him. Death and the grave might be proud of such a tenant in their terri- tories ; but He came not there as a subject, but as an Invader — a Conqueror. It was then that death, the king of terrors, lost his sting : and on the third day, the Prince of life triumphed over him, spoihng death and the grave. This last particular, however, be- longs to Christ's exaltation : the other instances show a part of the glory of His humiliation, but it is a small part of it. The glory of the cross of Christ which we are chiefly to esteem, is the glory of God's infinite perfections displayed in the work of redemption, as the Apostle expresses it, '^ The glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ ;'' even of " Christ crucified." It is this which makes any other object glorious, according as they manifest more or less of the perfections of God. This is what makes the work of cre- ation so glorious. The heavens declare God's glory, and the firma- ment His handiwork ; and we are inexcusable for not taking more pains to contemplate God's perfections in them — His almighty power and incomprehensible wisdom, and particularly His infinite goodness. But the effects of the Divine goodness in the works of creation are only temporal favors ; the favors purchased to us by the cross of 252 JOHN M'LAURIN. Christ are eternal. Besides, althougli tlie works of creation plainly show that God is in Himself good; yet they also show that God is just, and that He is displeased with ns for our sins ; nor do they point out to us the way how we may be reconciled to Him. They publish the Creator's glory. They publish at the same time His laws, and our obligations to obey them. Our consciences tell us we have neglected these obligations, violated these laws, and conse- quently incurred the Lawgiver's displeasure. His works declaring His glory, show that in His favor is life, and consequently that in His displeasure is death and ruin. Yea, they lay us in some meas- ure under His displeasure already. Why else do natural causes give so much trouble in life, and pain in death ? From all quarters the works of God revenge the quarrel of His broken law. They give these frail bodies subsistence for a time, but it is a subsistence embittered with many vexations ; and at last they crush them and dissolve them into dust. The face of nature, then, is glorious in itself; but it is overcast with a gloom of terror to us. It shows the glory of the Judge to the criminal — the glory of the offended Sovereign to the guilty rebel. This is not the way to give comfort and relief to a criminal ; it is not the way to make him glory and triumph. Accordingly the ene- mies of the cross of Christ, who refuse to know God otherwise than by the works of nature, are so far from glorying in the hopes of enjoying God in heaven, that they renounce all those great expecta- tions, and generally deny that there is any such blessedness to be had. Conscience tells us we are rebels against God, and nature does not show how such rebels may recover His favor ; how, in such a well-ordered government as the Divine government must be, the righteous Judge and Lawgiver may be glorified, and the criminal escape ; much less how the Judge may be glorified^ and the criminal obtain glory likewise. The language of nature, though it be plain and loud in proclaim- ing the glory of the Creator, yet it is dark and intricate as to His inclination toward guilty creatures. It neither assures peremptorily that we are in a state of despair, nor gives sure footing for our hopes. If we are favorites, whence so many troubles ? If we are hopeless criminals, whence so many favors ? Nature shows God's glory, and our shame ; His law our duty, and consequently our danger ; but about the way to escape it is silent and dumb. It affords many mo- tives for exciting desires after God, but it shows not the way to o-et these desires satisfied. Here, in the text is an object which gives us better intelligence. It directs us not merely to seek by feelino- in GLORYING IN THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 253 tlie dark, if haply we may find, but to seek Him so as to certainly find Him. Unlikely doctrine to a carnal mind I that there should be more of God's glory manifested to us in the face of Christ cruci- fied, than in the face of heaven and earth. The face of Christ ! in which sense discovers nothing but marks of pain and disgrace ; that mangled visage, red with gore, covered with marks of scorn, swelled with strokes, and pale with death : that would be the last object in which the carnal mind would seek to see the glory of the God of life ; a visage clouded with the horror of death. It would with more pleasure and admiration view the same face when transfigured, and shining like the sun in its strength. Divine glory shone indeed then in a bright manner, in that face on the mount, but not so brightly as on Mount Calvary. This was the most glorious transfiguration of the two. Though all the light in the world, in the sun and stars, were collected together in one stupendous mass of light, it would be but darkness to the glory of this seemingly dark and melancholy object ; for it is here, as the Apostle expresses it, we all, as with open face, may behold the glory of God. Here shine spotless justice, incomprehensible wisdom, and infinite love, all at once. Kone of them darkens or eclipses the other ; every one of them gives a luster to the rest. They mingle their beams and shine with united, eternal splendor ; the just Judge, the merci- ful Father, and the wise Governor. No other object gives such a display of all these perfections; yea, all the objects we know give not such a display as any one of them. Nowhere does justice appear so awfal, mercy so amiable, or wisdom so profound. By the infinite dignity of Christ's person. His cross gives more honor and glory to the law and justice of God, than all the other sufferings that ever were or will be endured in the world. When the Apostle is speaking to the Eomans of the Gospel, he does not tell them only of God's mercy, but also of His j astice revealed by it. God's wrath against the unrighteousness of men is chiefly revealed by the righteousness and sufferings of Christ. " The Lord was pleased for His righteousness' sake." Both by requiring and appoint- iDg that righteousness. He magnified the law, and made it honorable. And though that righteousness consist in obedience and sufferings which continue for a time, yet since the remembrance of them will continue forever, the cross of Christ may be said to give eternal maj- esty and honor to that law, which is satisfied ; that awful law, by which the universe (which is God's kingdom) is governed, to which the principalities and powers of heaven are subject; that law, which in condemning sin, banished the devil and his angels from heaven 254 JOHN M'LAURIN. our first parents from Paradise, and peace from the earth. Consider- ing, therefore, that God is the Judge and Lawgiver of the world, it is plain that His glory shines with unspeakable brightness in the cross of Christ, as the punishment of sin. But this is the very thing that hinders the lovers of sin from acknowledging the glory of the cross, because it shows so much of God's hatred of what they love. It would be useful for removing such prejudices, to consider, that though Christ's sacrifice shows the punishment of sin, yet, if we em- brace that sacrifice, it only shows it to us. It takes it off our hands — it leaves us no more to do with it. And surely the beholding our danger, when we behold it as prevented, serves rather to increase than lessen our joy. By seeing the greatness of our danger, we see the greatness of our deliverance. The cross of Christ displays the glory of infinite justice, but not of justice only. Here shines chiefly the glory of infinite mercy. There is noth- ing in the world more lovely or glorious than love and goodness it- self; and this is the greatest instance of it that can be conceived. God's goodness a^DjDcars in all His works ; this is a principal part of the glory of the creation. We are taught to consider this lower world as a convenient habitation, built for man to dwell in ; but, to allude to the apostle's expression, this gift we are speaking of should be accounted more worthy of honor than the world, " inasmuch as He who hath builded the house hath more honor than the house." When God gave us His Son, He gave us an infinitely greater gift than the world. The Creator is infinitely more glorious than the creature, and the Son of God is the Creator of all things. God can make innumerable worlds by the word of His mouth ; He has but one only Son ; and He spared not His only Son, but gave Him up to the death of the cross for us all. God's love to His people is from everlasting to everlasting ; but from everlasting to everlasting there is no manifestation of it known, or conceivable by us, that can be compared to this. The light of the sun is always the same, but it shines brightest to ua at noon : the cross of Christ was the noontide of everlasting love, the meridian splen- dor of eternal mercy. There were many bright manifestations of the same love before, but they were like the light of the morning, that shines more and more unto the perfect day ; and that perfect day was when Christ was on the cross, when darkness covered all the land. Comparisons can give but a very imperfect view of this love, which passeth knowledge. Though we should suppose that all the love of all the men that ever were, or will be on the earth, and all the love of the angels in heaven, united in one heart, it would be but GLORTINa IN THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 255 a cold heart to that whicli was pierced by the soldier's spear. The Jews saw but blood and water, but faith can discern a bright ocean of eternal love flowing out of these wounds. We may have some impression of the glory of it, by considering its effects. We should consider all the spiritual and eternal blessings received by God's peo- ple for four thousand years before Christ was crucified, or that have been received since, or that will be received till the consummation of all things ; all the deliverances from eternal misery ; all the oceans of joy in heaven ; the rivers of water of life, to be enjoyed to all eternity, by multitudes as the sand of the sea-shore. We should consider all these blessings as flowing from that love that was displayed in the cross of Christ. Here shines also the glory of the incomprehensible wisdom of God, which consists in promoting the best ends by the fittest means. The ends of the cross are best in themselves, and the best for us that can be conceived : the glory of God, and the good of man. And the means by which it advances these ends are so fit and suitable, that the infinite depth of contrivance in them will be the admiration of the universe to etemitv. It is an easy thing to conceive the glory of the Creator, mani- fested in the good of an innocent creature ; but the glory of the righteous Judge, manifested in the good of the guilty criminal, is the peculiar mysterious wisdom of the cross. It is easy to perceive God's righteousness declared in the punishment of sins ; the cross alone declares "His righteousness for the remission of sins." It magnifies justice in the way of pardoning sin, and mercy in the way of punishing it. It shows justice more awful than if mercy had been excluded ; and mercy more amiable than if justice had been dispensed with. It magnifies the law, and makes it honorable. It magnifies the criminal who broke the law ; and the respect put upon the law makes him honorable likewise. Yea, this is so contrived, that every honor done to the criminal is an honor done to the law ; and all the respect pnt upon the law, puts respect on the criminal. For every blessing the sinner receives, is for the sake of obedience and satisfaction made to the law ; not by himself, but by another, who could put infinitely greater dignity on the law : and the satis- faction of that other for the sinner, puts the greatest dignity on him that he is capable of. Both the law and the sinner may " glory in the cross of Christ." Both of them receive eternal honor and glory by it. The glories that are found separately in the other works of God are found united here. The joys of heaven glorify God's goodness ; 256 JOHN M'LAURIN. the pains of liell glorify His justice; the cross of Christ glorifies both of them, in a more remarkable manner than heaven or hell glorifies any of them. There is more remarkable honor done to the justice of God by the sufferings of Christ, than by the torment of devils ; and there is a more remarkable display of the goodness of God in the redemption of sinners, than in the joy of angels : so that we can conceive no object, in which we can discover such manifold wisdom, or so deep contrivance for advancing the glory of God. The like may be said of its contrivance for the good of man. It heals al] his diseases ; it pardons all his sins. It is the sacrifice that removes the guilt of sin ; it is the motive that removes the love of sin. It mortifies sin, and expiates it. It atones for disobedience, and it makes obedience acceptable. It excites to obedience ; it pur- chases strength for obedience. It makes obedience practicable ; it makes it dehghtful ; it makes it in a manner unavoidable — it con- strains to it. It is not only the motive to obedience, but the pattern of it. It satisfies the curse of the law, and fulfills the commands of it. Love is the fulfilling of the law ; the sum of which is, the love of God, and of our neighbor. The cross of Christ is the highest in- stance of both. Christ's sufferings are to be considered as actions. Never action gave such glory to God ; never action did such good to man. And it is the way to show our love to God and man, by promoting the glory of the one, and the good of the other. Thus the sufferings of Christ teach us our duty by that love whence they flowed, and that good for which they were designed. But the}^ teach us not only by the design of them, but also by the manner of His undergoing them. Submission to God, and forgive- ness of our enemies, are two of the most difficult duties. The for- mer is one of the chief expressions of love to God, and the latter of love to man. But the highest submission is, when a person submits to suffering, though free from guilt ; and the highest forgiveness is, to forgive our murderers, especially if the murderers were persons who were obliged to us. As if a person not only should forgive them who took away his life, even though they owed him their own lives ; but also desire others to forgive them, pray for them, and as much as possible excuse them. This was the manner of Christ^s bearing His sufferings : " Father, Thy will be done;" and, "Father, forgive them ; for they know not what they do." Thus we see how fit a means the cross is for promoting the best ends — for justification and sanctification. It would be too long to insist here in showing its manifold fitness for promoting also joy and peace here, and everlasting happiness hereafter : for, no doubt, GLOHTING IN THE CROSS OP CHRIST. 257 it will be a great part of future happiness, to remember the way it was purchased, and to see the Lamb that was slain, at the right hand of Him who gave Him for that end. The things already ad- duced show, that the incomprehensible wisdom of God is gloriously displayed in the cross of Christ, because it hath such amazing con- trivance in it for advancing the good of man, as well as the glory of God ; for that is the design of it, to show the glory of God and good- will toward man. But it is not only the glory of Divine wisdom that shines in this blessed object, but also the glory of Divine power. This, to them who know not Christ, is no small paradox : but to them who be- lieve, Christ crucified is "the power of God, and the wisdom of God." The Jews thought Christ's crucifixion a demonstration of His want of power. Hence they upbraided Him, that He who wrought so many miracles, suffered Himself to hang upon the cross. But this itself was the greatest miracle of all. They asked, why He who saved others, saved not Himself? They named the reason, without taking heed to it. That was the very reason why at that time He saved not Himself, because He saved others ; because He was willing and able to save others. The motive of His enduring the cross was powerful — Divine love ; stronger than death ; ihQ fruits of it powerful — ^Divine grace ; the power of God to salvation ; mak- ing new creatures, raising souls from the dead : these are acts of om- nipotence. We are ready to admire chiefly the power of God in the visible world ; but the soul of man is a far nobler creature than it. We justly admire the power of the Creator in the motion of the- heavenly bodies ; but the motion of souls toward God as their cen- ter, is far more glorious : the efiects of the same power, far more eminent, and far more lasting. The wounds of Christ seemed effects of weakness ; but it is easy to observe incomparable strength appearing in them. We should consider what it was that bruised Him : " He was bruised for our iniquities." The Scripture represents them as a great burden : and describes us as all lying helpless under it, as a people laden with ini- quity. Christ bore our sins in His own body on the tree ; He bore our griefs, and carried our sorrows ; not these we feel here only, but those we deserved to feel hereafter : ''The Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all." We might well say, with Cain, our punish- ment was more than we were able to bear. This might be said to every one of us apart. But it was not the sins of one that He bore: He bore the sins of many ; of multitudes as the sand on the sea- 17 258 JOHN M'LAURIN. shore : and tlie sins of every one of them as numerous. This was the heaviest and most terrible weight in the world. The curse of the law was a weight sufi&cient to crush a world. They who first brought it on themselves found it so. It sunk le- gions of angels who excel in strength, when they had abused that strength against the law, from the heaven of heavens to the bottom- less pit. The same weight that crushed rebel angels, threatened man for joining with them. Before man could bear it, before any person could have his own portion of it, it behooved, as it were, to be divided into numberless parcels. Man, after numberless ages, would have borne but a small part of it. " The wrath to come," would have been always wrath to come, to all eternity ; there would have been still infinitely more to bear. Christ only had streng-th to bear it all, in a manner, at once ; to bear it all alone. None of the people were with Him. Our burden and our help were laid on One who was mighty ; and His bearing them was a glorious manifestation of His might — of the noblest kind of might — that He was "mighty to save." It is true, that load bruised Him ; but we should not be sur- prised at that, if we considered the dreadfulness of the shock. Could we conceive the weight of eternal justice ready to fall down, like lightning, with violence upon a world of malefactors, and view that sacred body interposed betwixt the load of wrath from above, and the heirs of wrath below, we should not wonder at these bruises, we should not despise them. We should consider the event, had that wrath fallen lower. Had it met with no obstacle, it would have made havoc of another kind. This world would have been worse than a chaos, and been covered with the dismal effects of vindictive justice, and Divine righteous vengeance. Although His sacred flesh was both mangled and marred with that dismal load, yet we should consider that it sustained it. Here was incomparable strength, that it sustained that shock which would have ground mankind into powder ; and He sustained it (as was said before) alone. He let no part of it fall lower : they who take sanctuary under this blessed covert, are so safe, that they have no more to do with that load of wrath but to look to it. To allude to the Psalmist's expressions: "It shall not come nigh them; only with their eyes they shall behold, and see the reward of the wicked." But they shall see it given to that righteous One ; and all that in effect is left to them in this matter, is, by faith, to look and behold what a load of vengeance was hovering over their guilty heads ; aLORTING IN THE CEOSS OF CHRIST. 259 and, that guiltless and spotless body being interposed, how it was crushed in an awful manner. But it is the end of the conflict that shows on which side the victory is. In that dreadful struggle, Christ's body was brought as low as the grave ; but though the righteous fall, He rises again. Death was undermost in the struggle. It was Christ that conquered in falling, and completed the conquest in rising. The cause, design, and effects of these wounds, show incomparable power and strength appearing in them. The same strength appeared in His behavior under them : and the manner in which He bore them, we see in the history of His death. He bore them with patience, and with pity and compassion toward others. A small part of His sorrow would have crushed the strongest spirit on earth to death. The constitution of man is not able to bear too great violence of joy or grief; either the one or the other is suf&cient to unhinge our frame. Christ's griefs were absolutely incomparable, but His strength was a match for them. These considerations serve to show, that it is the greatest stupid- ity to have diminishing thoughts of the wounds of the Eedeemer. Yet, because this has been the stumbling-block to the Jews, and foolishness to the Gentiles, and many professing Christians have not suitable impressions of it, it is proper to consider this subject a lit- tle more particularly. It is useful to observe how the Scripture represents the whole of Christ's humihation as one great action, by which He defeated the enemies of God and man, and founded a glo- rious everlasting monarchy. The prophets, and particularly the Psalmist, speak so much of Christ as a powerful Conqueror, whose enemies were to be made His footstool, that the Jews do still con- tend that their Messiah is to be a powerful temporal prince, and a great fighter of battles ; one who is to subdue their enemies by fire and sword ; and by whom they themselves were to be raised above all the nations of the world. If pride and the love of earthly things did not blind them, it were easy to see, that the descriptions of the prophets are vastly too high to be capable of so low a meaning. This will be evident by taking a short view of them : which at the same time will show the glory of that great action just now spoken of, by showing the greatness of the design, and the effects of it. The prophets ofttimes speak more expressly of the Messiah as a great King, which is a name of the greatest earthly dignity. The hand of Pilate was overruled to write that title of honor even on His cross. The glory of the kingdom that He was to found is rep- resented in very magnificent expressions by the prophet Daniel. 260 JOHN M'LAURIN. Here are lively representations of unparalleled greatness, an ever- lasting kingdom to be founded, strong obstacles to be removed, powerful enemies to be defeated. It is usefal to observe the universal importance of tins design ; no part of the universe was unconcerned in it. The glory of the Creator was eminently to be displayed ; all the Divine Persons were to be gloriously manifested ; the Divine attri- butes to be magnified ; the Divine works and ways to be honored. The earth was to be redeemed, hell conquered, heaven purchased, the law to be magnified and established, its commandments to be fulfilled, its curse to be suffered ; the law was to be satisfied, and the criminal that broke it to be saved, and his tempter and ac- cuser to be defeated. The head of the old serpent was to be bruised, his works to be destroyed, and the principalities and powers of dark- ness to be spoiled, and triumphed over openly. The princij)alities and powers of heaven were to receive new matter of everlasting hal- lelujahs, and new companions to join in them ; the fallen angels were to lose their old subjects, and the blessed angels to receive new fellow- citizens. No wonder this is called the making a new heaven and a new earth ; and even the face of hell was to be altered. Surely a more glorious design can not be conceived ; and the more we consider it, the more we may see the greatness of the action that accomplished it. As the design was great, the preparations were solemn. The stage of it was to be this earth ; it was chiefly concerned in it ; it was solemnly prepared for it. This is the view given us of the providences that preceded it. They fitted the stage of the world for the great event in the fullness of time. If we saw clearly the whole chain of them, we should see how they pointed toward this, as their center, and how they contributed to honor it — or rather it reflected the greatest honor upon them. The forecited prophecies in Daniel, besides several others, are instances of this : they show how the great revolutions in the heathen world were subservient to this de- sign, particularly the succession of the four monarchies represented in Nebuchadnezzar's dream : their rise and overthrow were subserv- ient to the rise of this monarchy, never to be overthrown. We see but a small part of the chain of Providence, and even that very darkly ; but this perhaps is worth the observing briefly, that universal empii^e came gradually from the eastern to the western parts of the world, from the Assyrians and Persians, to the Greeks and Eomans. By this means greater communication and corre- spondence than formerly were opened between distant nations of the earth, from the rising to the setting of the sun. The kingdom, repre- GLOE-TINa IN THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 261 sented by tlie stone cut out of the mountain, was to extend to both. Whatever we think of this, it is certain that if we saw the plot of Prov- idence unfolded, we should see these and other revolutions contribut- ing to the fullness of time, and adjusting the world to that state and form of things that was fittest for the Kedeemer's appearance. These were a part of the preparations for the work in view ; but they were but a part of them : for all the sacrifices offered every morning and evening for so many ages, were preparations for it, and shadows of it. The same may be said of other figures and types. The Church of God, for four thousand years, waited, with longing looks for this salvation of the Lord : they were refreshed with the sacrifices that prefigured it. The heathens themselves had their sac- rifices. They had sinfully lost the tradition of the true religion and the Messiah, handed down from Noah ; yet Providence ordered it so that they did not wholly lose the right of sacrificing. There is reason to acknowledge a particular Providence preserving tradition in this point ; for how otherwise could it enter into men's heads to serve their gods by sacrificing their beasts ? It was useful that the world should not be entirely unacquainted with the notion of a sacri- fice. The substitution of the innocent in the room of the guilty, pointed toward this great oblation, which was to make all others to cease. The predictions of the prophets in different ages, from Moses to Malachi, were also preparations for this great event. John the Baptist appeared as the morning-star, the harbinger of the Bay- spring from on high : it was his particular office to prepare the way of the Lord before Him. The evidence of the prophecies was bright : the Jews saw the time approaching ; their expectations were big. Counterfeit Messiahs took advantage of it : and not only the Jews, but even the heathens, probably by report from them, had a notion of an incomparably great person who was to appear about that time. These, besides many other great things, serve to show what glorious preparations and pomp went before the great work we are speaking of Here it may j3erhaps occur to some, that it is strange an action that had such great preparations before it happened, was so little ob- served when it did happen. Strictly speaking, this was not true. It was not much noticed, indeed, among blind and ignorant men — this was foretold; but it had a noble theater — the whole uni- verse were, in effect, spectators of it. The Scripture teacheth us to reflect on this ; particularly to consider the principalities and powers in heavenly places, as attentive lookers on this glorious performance. We may infer this from Eph. iii. 10, besides other Scriptures. 262 JOHN M'LAURIN. These morning-stars shouted for joj, and sang together at the old creation. This was a new creation to sing at ; a more amazing spectacle than the old. In that, the Son of God acted in the form of God ; now He was to act the low form of a servant. 'Not was that the lowest part of it; He was to suffer in the form of a criminal ; the Judge in the form of a malefactor ; the Lawgiver in the room of the rebel. The creation was a mean theater for so great an event, and the noblest creatures unworthy judges of such an incomprehen- sible performance : its true glory was the approbation of its infinite Contriver, and that He, at whose command it was done, was fully well pleased with it. Yet to us, on whose natures example has so much influence, it may be useful to consider the honorable crowd of admirers and spec- tators that this jDerformance had ; and to reflect how Heaven beheld with veneration what was treated on earth with contempt. It was a large theater — multitudes as sand on the sea-shore — a glorious com- pany. In Scripture, angels, in comparison of men, are called gods. We are not sensible of their glory, which struck prophets almost dead with fear, and tempted an apostle to idolatry ; but these, when the First-begotten is brought into the world — all these gods are commanded to worship Him. The place of Scripture where angels are called gods, is the jolace where they are commanded to worship Christ : and, according to the same apostle, it was a special time of His receiving this glory from the hosts of heaven, when His glory was to be vailed among the inhabitants of the earth. It is evident that they were spectators of all that He did in that state, and no doubt they were attentive spectators ; they desired to look, as it were, with outstretched necks, into these things. Nor could they be unconcerned spectatoi's : they were, on divers accounts, interested. They did not not need a redemption themselves ; but they delighted in ours : they loved Christ, and they loved His people : their love interested them in the glory of the one and the other. All we know of their work and office, as Luther expresses it, ''is to sing in heaven, and minister on earth ;" our redemption gave occasion for both. They sang for joy when it began at Christ's birth ; they went with gladness on messages of it beforehand to the prophets, and to to the Virgin Mary ; they fed Christ in the desert ; they attended Him in His agony, and at His resurrection ; and they accompanied Him at His ascension. They were concerned to look into these things in time, that were to be remembered to all eternity ; and into that performance on earth, that was to be the matter of eternal hal- lelujahs in heaven. GLORYING IN THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 263 It shonld not therefore hinder our esteem of this great work, that the great men on earth took no notice of it. They were but mean and blind, ignorant and vulgar, compared to the powers and thrones just now mentioned, who beheld it with veneration. It is no disparagement to an excellent performance, that it is not admired by ignorant persons who do not understand it. The principalities in heaven understood, and therefore admired. Nor were the principalities and powers of darkness wholly ignorant of it : their example should not be a pattern to us ; but what they beheld with anguish we should behold with transport. Their plot was to make the earth, if possible, a province of hell. They had heard of that glorious counterplot ; they were alarmed at the harbin- gers of it ; they looked on and saw their plot, step by step, defeated, and the projects of eternal mercy go on. All the universe, therefore, were interested on-lookers at this blessed undertaking. Heaven looked on with joy, and hell with terror, to observe the event of an enterprise that was contrived from everlasting, expected since the fall of man, and that was to be celebrated to all eternity. Thus we have before us several things that show the gloiy of the performance in view; the design^ of universal importance; \hQ prepa' ration^ incomparably solemn ; a company of the most honorable, attentive spectators. As to the performance itself, it is plain it is not a subject for the tongues of men. The tongues of men are not for a subject above the thoughts of angels; they are but desiring to look into it ; they have not seen fully through it : that is the work of eternity. Men may speak and write of it, but it is not so proper to describe it, as to tell that it can not be described. We may write about it, but if all its glory were described, the world would not con- tain its books. We may speak of it, but the most we can say about it is to say that it is unspeakable ; and the most that we know is, that it passeth knowledge. It is He that performed this work that can truly declare it ; it is He who contrived it that can describe it. He it is who knows it. None knoweth the Father but the Son, and he to whom He shall reveal Him. It is from Him we should seek this knowledge. What of it is to be had here is but in part, but it leads us to the place where it will be perfect. Here we think as children, we speak as children, yet we are not therefore to neglect thinking or speaking of it. Our thoughts are useless without con- templating it, our speech useless without praising it. The rest of the history of the world, except as it relates to this, is but a history of trifles or confusion — dreams and vapors of sick-brained men. What we know of it here is but little, but that little incomparably 264 JOHN M'LAURIN. transcends all other knowledge, and' all other earthly things are but loss and dung to it. The least we can do, is, with the angels, to desire to look into these things ; and we should put wp these desires to Hini who can satisfy them, that He may shine into our hearts by " the light of the knowledge of the glory of God." The true object of this knowledge is the glory of God, the means of obtaining it is light shining from God, and as to the place into which it shines, it is into our hearts. We are therefore to desire that light from Him who is light itself But our prayers should be joined with other means, particularly that meditation which Paul recommends to Tim- othy. We ought to meditate on these things, so as to give ourselves wholly to them. Our meditation should be as lively and as like to seeing the object before us as possible. But it is not by strength of imagination that the soul is profited in this case, but by having the eyes of the understanding enlightened. The makers and worshipers of images pretend to help us in this matter by pictures presented to the eye of the body ; but it is not the eve of sense, or force of imagination, but the eye of faith, that can give us true notions and right conceptions of this object. Men may paint Christ's outward sujfferings, but not that inward excellency from whence their virtue flowed, namely, His glory in Himself, and His goodness to us. Men may paint one crucified, but how can that distinguish the Saviour from the criminals on each side of Him ? We mny paint His hands and His feet fixed to the cross, but who can paint how those hands used always to be stretched forth for relieving the afiiicted, and curing the diseased ? or how those feet went always about doing good ? and how they cure more diseases, and do more good now than ever ! We may paint the outward ap- pearance of His sufferings, but not the inward bitterness, or invisible causes of them. Men can paint the cursed tree, but not the curse of the law that made it so. Men can paint Christ bearing the cross to Calvary, but not Christ bearing the sins of many. We may describe the nails piercing His sacred flesh, but who can describe the eternal justice, piercing both flesh and spirit? We may describe the sol- dier's spear, but not the arrows of the Almighty ; the cup of vinegar which He but tasted, but not the cup of wrath which He drank out to the lowest dregs ; the derision of the Jews, but not the desertion of the Almighty forsaking His Son, that He might never forsake us, who were His enemies. The sorrows He suffered, and the benefits He purchased, are equally beyond description. Though we describe His hands and His feet mangled and pierced, who can describe how in one hand, as GLORYING IN THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 265 it Tvere, He grasped multitudes of souls ready to sink into ruin, and in the other hand an everlasting inheritance to give them ? or how* these bruised feet crushed the old Serpent's head, and trampled on death and hell, and sin the author of both ? We may describe the blood issuing from His body, but not the waters of life streaming from the same source — oceans of spiritual and eternal blessings. We may paint how that blood covered His body, but not how it sprinkles the souls of others, yea, sprinkles many nations. We may paint the crown of thorns He wore, but not the crown of glory He purchased. Happy were it for us if our faith had as lively views of this object, as our imagination ofttimes has of incomparably less important objects ! then would the pale face of our Saviour show more power- ful attractions than all the brightest objects in nature besides. Not- withstanding the gloomy aspect of death, it would discover such transcendent majesty as would make all the glory in the world lose its relish with us : we should see then, indeed, the awful frowns of justice, but these frowns are not at us, but at our enemies — our mur- derers — that is, our sius. The cross shows Christ pitying His own murderera, but it shows no pity to our murderers, therefore we may see the majesty of eternal justice tempered with the mildness of infi- nite compassion. Infinite pity is an object worth lool^ing at, espe- cially by creatures in distress and danger. There Death doth appear in state, as the executioner of the law, but there he also appears deprived of his stiag with regard to us. There we may hear also the sweetest melody in the world to the awakened sinner ; that peace-speaking blood that speaks better things than that of Abel ; the sweetest and loudest voice in the world — ^louder than the thunder of Sinai. Its voice reacheth heaven and earth, pleading with God in behalf of men, and beseeching men to be reconciled to God ; speaking the most comfortable and the most seasonable things in the world to objects in distress and danger — salvation and deliverance. Of the various views we can take of this blessed work, this is the most suitable — to consider it as the most glorious deliverance that ever was or will be. Other remarkable deliverances of God's people are considered as shadows and figures of this. Moses, Joshua, David, and Zerubbabel, were types of this great Joshua. According to His name, so is He, Jesus, a DeHverer. The number of the persons delivered shows the glory of this delivery to be unparalleled. It was but one single nation that Moses delivered, though indeed it was a glorious deliverance, relieving six hundred thousand at once, and a great deal more ; but this was incomparably more extensive. The Apostle John calls the multitude of the redeemed "• a multitude 266 JOHN M'LAURIN. wbicli no man could number, of all nations, and kindreds, and peo- ple, and tongues." The unparalleled glory of tliis deliverance appears, not only in the numhei^ of the delivered, but also in the nature of the deliverance. It was not men's bodies only that He delivered, but immortal souls, more valuable than the world. It was not from such a bondage as that of Egypt, but one as far beyond it as eternal mis- ery is worse than temporal bodily toil : so that nothing can equal the wretchedness of the state from which they are dehvered, but the blessedness of that to which they are brought. But here we should not forget the opposition made against this dehverance : it was the greatest that can withstand any good design. The apostle teaches us to consider the opposition of flesh and blood as far inferior to that of principalities and powers, and spiritual wickedness in high places. The devil is called ''the god of this world;" and himself and his angels, " the rulers of the darkness of this world/' They had obtained a dominion over the world (except- ing that small corner Judea), for many ages, by the consent of the inhabitants. They found them not only pliable, but fond of their chains, and in love with their bondage. But they had heard of this intended enterprise of supreme power and mercy, this invasion and descent upon their dominions ; they had heard of the design of bruising their head, overturning their government, making their slaves to revolt. Long experience had made them expert in the black art of perdition ; long success made them confident ; and their mahco still pushed them on to opposition, whatever might be the success. As they Avere no doubt apprised of this designed deliver- ance, and alarmed at the signs of its approach, they made all prepara- tions to oppose it ; mustered all their forces ; employed all their skill ; and, as all was at stake, made their last efforts for a kind of decisive engagement. They armed every proper instrument, and set every engine of spiritual destruction at work ; temptations, perse- cutions, violence, slander, treachery, counterfeit Messiahs, and the like. Their Adversary appeared in a form that did not seem terrible ; not only as a man, but as one " despised of the people," accounted as '^ a worm, and no man," but this made the event more glorious. It was a spectacle worth the admiration of the universe, to see the despised Gahlean turn all the artillery of hell back upon itself; to see One in the likeness of the Son of Man, wresting the keys of hell and death out of the hand of the devil ; to see Him entanglino- the rulers of darkness in their own nets ; and making them ruin their designs with their own stratagems. They made one disciple betray GLORYINa IN THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 267 Him, and another deny Him ; they made the Jews accuse Him, and the Eomans crucify Him. But the Wonderful Counselor was more than a match for the old Serpent, and the Lion of the tribe of Judah too hard for the roaring lion. The devices of these powers of dark- ness were, in the event, made means of spoihng and triumphing over themselves. The greatest cruelty of devils and their instruments, was made subservient to the designs of the infinite mercy of God ; and that hideous sin of the sons of men, overruled in a perfectly holy manner, for making an end of sin, and bringing in everlasting righteousness. The opposition made to this deliverance did but ad- vance its glory ; particularly the opposition it met with from those for whose good it was intended, that is, sinners themselves : this served to enhance the glory of mysterious long-suffering and mercy. It would take a long time to insist on all the opposition which this Deliverer met with, both from the enemies of sinners, and from sinners themselves ; but at last He weathered the storm, surmounted difficulties, led captivity captive, obtained a perfect conquest, pur- chased an everlasting inheritance, founded an everlasting kingdom, triumphed on the cross, and died with the publication of His victory in His mouth, '' It i^ finished." The world is represented as silent before the Lord, when He rose up to work this great deliverance ; and, as was shown before, no part of the world was unconcerned in it. The expectation was great, but the performance could not but surpass it. Every part of it was perfect, and every circumstance graceful ; nothing deficient, nothing superflous, nothing but what became the dignity of the Person, and the eternal wisdom of the contrivance. Every thing was suited to the glorious design, and all the means proportioned to the end. The foundation of the everlasting kingdom was laid, before it was ob- served by the men that opposed it ; and so laid that it was impossi- ble for the gates of hell to prevail against it : all things adjusted for completing the deliverance, and for securing it against all endeavors and attempts to overturn it. The great Dehverer, in that low dis- guise, wrought through His design, so as none could oppose it, with- out advancing it to the full satisfaction of that infinite wisdom that devised it, and the eternal admiration of the creatures that beheld it. The Father was well pleased ; heaven and earth rejoiced, and were astonished ; the powers of hell fell down like lightning. In heaven, loud acclamations and applauses, and new songs of praises began, that are not ended yet, and never will — they will still in- crease. Still, new redeemed criminals from the earth, saved from the gates of hell, and entering the gates of heaven, with a new song 268 JOHN M'LAURIN. of praise ia their mouths, add to the ever-growing melody, of which they shall never be weary : for that is their rest, their labor of love; never to rest, day nor night, giving praise and glory to Him that sits on the throne, and to the Lamb at His right hand ; who re- deemed them from all nations and tongues, washing them in His own blood, and making them kings and priests unto God. But still, an objection may be made concerning the little honor and respect this work met with on earth, where it was performed. This, duly considered, instead of being an objection, is a commenda- tion of it. Sin had so corrupted the taste of mankind, that it had been a kind of reflection on this work, if it had suited it. Herein the beauty of it appears, that it was above that depraved, wretched state w^hich it was designed to cure ; and that it did actually work that change on innumerable multitudes of all nations. If the cross of Christ met with such contempt on earth, it met also with incomparable honor. It made the greatest revolution in the world that ever happened since the creation, or that will ever happen till Shiloh come again ; a more glorious, a more lasting change than ever was produced by all the princes and conquerors in the world. It conquered multitudes of souls, and established a soverei.crnt}" over men's thoughts, wills, and affections. This was a conquest to which human power hath no proportion. Persecutors turned apostles •, and vast numbers of pagans, after knowing the cross of Christ, suffered death and torments cheerfully, to honor it. The growing light shone from east to west, and opposition was not only useless, but subservient to it. The changes it produced are sometimes described by the prophets in the most magnificent expres- sions. Thus, for instance, it turned the parched grounds into pools of water ; made the habitations of dragons to become places of grass, and reeds, and rushes ; made wildernesses to bud and blossom as the rose. It wrought this change among us in the utmost isles of the Gentiles. TVe ought to compare our present privileges with the state of our forefathers, before they knew this blessed object ; and we shall find it owing to the glory of the cross of Christ, that we, who worship the living God, in order to the eternal enjoyment of Him, are not worshiping the sun, moon, and stars, or sacrificing to idols. Bat the chief effects of the cross of Christ, and which show most of its glory, are its inward effects on the souls of men. There as was before hinted, it makes a new creation. Christ is formed in them, the source and the hope of glory. This is a glorious workmanship, the image of God on the soul of man. But since GLORTINa IN THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 269 these effects of tlie cross of Christ are secret, and the shame put upon it ofttimes too pubHc, and since human nature is so much influenced bj example, it will be useful to take such a view of the honor done to this object, as may arm us against the bad example of stupid un- believers. The cross of Christ is an object of such incomparable brightness, that it spreads a glory round it to all the nations of the earth, all the corners of the universe, all the generations of time, and all the ages of eternity. The greatest actions or events that ever happened on earth, filled with their splendor and influence but a moment of time and a point of space ; the splendor of this great object fills immens- ity and eternity. If we take a right view of its glory, we shall see it, contemplated with attention, spreading influence, and attracting looks from times past, present and to come ; from heavcD, earth, and hell ; angels, saints, and devils. We shall see it to be both the ob- ject of the deepest admiration of the creatures, and the perfect ap- probation of the infinite Creator. We shall see the best part of man- kind, the Church of God, for four thousand years, looking forward to it before it happened ; new generations, yet unborn, rising up to admire and honor it in continual succession, till time shall be no more ; innumerable multitudes of angels and saints looking back to it with holy transport, to the remotest ages of eternity. Other glories decay by length of time ; if the splendor of this object change, it will be only by increasing. The visible sun will spend his beams in process of time, and, as it were, grow dim with age ; this object hath a rich stock of beams which eternity can not exhaust. If saints and angels grow in knowledge, the splendor of this object will be still increasing. It is unbelief that intercepts its beams. Unbelief takes place only on earth : there is no such thing in heaven or in hell. It will be a great part of future blessedness, to remember the object that purchased it ; and of future punishment, to remember the object that offered deliverance from it. It will add hfe to the beams of love in heaven, and make the flames of hell burn fiercer. Its beams will not only adorn the regions of light, but pierce the regions of darkness. It will be the desire of the saints in fight, and the great eye-sore of the prince of darkness and his subjects. Its glory produces powerful effects wherever it shines. They who behold this glory are transformed into the same image. An Ethiopian may look long enough to the visible sun before it change his black color ; but this does it. It melts cold and frozen hearts ; it breaks stony hearts ; it pierces adamants ; it penetrates through thick darkness. How justly is it called marvelous light I 270 JOHN M'LAURIN. It gives eyes to the blind to look to itself; and not only to tlie blind, but to the dead. It is the light of life : a powerfal light. Its energy is beyond the force of thunder; and it is more mild than the dew on the tender grass. But it is impossible fuUy to describe all its effects, unless we could fully reckon up all the spiritual and eternal evils it prevents, all the riches of grace and glory it purchases, and all the Divine perfections it displays. It has this peculiar to it, that as it is fuU of glory itself, it communicates glory to all that bebold it arigbt. It gives them a glorious robe of righteousness ; their God is their glory ; it calls them to glory and virtue ; it gives them the Spirit of God and of glory ; it gives them joy unspeakable and full of glory here, and an exceeding great and eternal weight of glory hereafter. It communicates a glory to all other objects, according as they have any relation to it. It adorns the universe ; it gives a luster to nature, and to Providence ; it is the greatest glory of this lower world, that its Creator was for awhile its inhabitant. A poor land- lord thinks it a lasting honor to his cottage, that he has once lodged a prince or emperor. With how much more reason may our poor cottage, this earth, be proud of it, that the Lord of glory was its tenant from His birth to His death ! yea, that He rejoiced in the habitable parts of it before it had a beginning, even from everlast- ing ! It is the glory of the world that He who formed it, dwelt on it ; of the air, that He breathed in it ; of the sun, that it shone on Him ; of the ground, that it bore Him ; of the sea, that He walked on it ; of the elements, that they nourished Him ; of the waters, that they refreshed Him ; of us men, that He lived and died among us, yea, that He lived and died for us ; that He assumed our flesh and blood, and carried it to the highest heavens, where it shines as the eternal ornament and wonder of the creation of God. It gives also a luster to Providence. It is the chief event that adorns the records of time, and enlivens the history of the universe. It is the glory of the va- rious great lines of Providence, that they point at this as their cen- ter ; that they prepared the way for its coming ; that after its com- ing they are subservient to the ends of it, though in a way indeed to us at present mysterious and unsearchable. Thus we know that they either fulfill the promises of the crucified Jesus, or His threat- enings; and show either the happiness of receiving Him, or the misery of rejecting Him. DISCOURSE FIFTY. NINTH, KOBERT WALKER. This eminent divine of the Scottish Church, was born at Canongate, in 1716, and received a regular education at the University of Edin- burg. He was ordained, in 1738, minister of Straiton ; and in 1746 was transferred to the second charge of South Leith. In 1754 he was called to be one of the ministers of Edinburg in the High Church, which posi- tion he filled with distinguished ability. In the month of February, 1782, he was seized with a fit of apoplexy; and though recoveiing to some extent, he at length suddenly died in April, 1783. Dr. Blair, who was the colleague of Walker, speaks of him in high terms, representing him as a man of deep piety, solid judgment, and powers of the most correct taste, which gave elegance, neatness, and chaste simphcity to his discourses. Walker's sermons have received the highest commendations from the ablest divines of all countries. They may perhaps be regarded as among the safest models for the study of young ministers. Doctrinal and evangehcal, they are at the same time highly practical, always logical, perspicuous in style, completely in- grained with happy Scriptural quotations, and conveyed with a manly, forcible eloquence, and a devout, earnest spirit. Walker possessed the faultless beauty of Blair, without the elegant frigidity of his thoughts, which, as Foster says, " hecame cooled and stiffened to numbness in waiting so long to he dressed,'^'* The sweet invituigs of the compassion- ate Saviour have seldom been set forth in a more charming, yet faithfiil manner, and in a more winning and afiectionate spuit, than in the fol- lowing discourse. THE HEAVY LADEN INVITED TO CHEIST. "Come unto Me, all ye that labor, and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."— Matt. xi. 28. It was prophesied of our Lord long before His manifestation in the flesh, that He should "proclaim liberty to the captives, and the 272 ROBERT WALKER. opening of the prison to them that are bound." And lo ! here He doth it in the kindest and most endearing manner, offering rest^ or spiritual relief, to every "■ laboring and heavy laden" sinner. " Come unto Me, all ye that labor, and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." In discoursing from which words, I propose, in dependence upon Divine aid : First. To open the character of those to whom the invitation is addressed ; Secondly. To explain the invitation itself, and show what is in- cluded in coming to Christ. After which I shall endeavor, in the Third place. To illustrate the gracious condescending promise with which our Lord enforces the call : ''I will give you rest." I begin with the character of those to whom the invitation is addressed. They are such, you see, as " labor, and are heavy laden ;" that is, who feel the unsupportable load of guilt, and the galling fetters of corrupt affections, and earnestly long to be delivered from both ; for these were the persons whom our Saviour always regarded as the peculiar objects of His attention and care. By our fatal apos- tasy, we forfeited at once our innocence and our happiness ; we be- came doubly miserable, liable to the justice of Grod, and slaves to Satan and our own corruptions. But few, comparatively S]3eaking, are sensible of this misery ! The bulk of mankind are so hot in the pursuit of perishing trifles, that they can find no leisure seriously to examine their spiritual condition. These, indeed, have a load upon til em, of weight more than sufficient to sink them into perdi- tion ; but they are not "heavy laden" in the sense of my text. Om' Saviour plainly speaks to those who feel their burden, and are groaning under it; otherwise the promise of rest, or deliverance, could be no inducement to bring them to Him. And the call is particularly addressed to such, for two obvious reasons : First. Because our Lord knew well that none else would com- ply with it. " The full soul loathes the honey-comb." Such is the pride of our hearts, that each of us would wish to be a saviour to himself, and to purchase heaven by his own personal merit. This was the "rock of offense" upon which the Jews stumbled and fell: they could not bear the thought of being indebted to the righteous- ness of another for pardon and acceptance with God ; for so the apostle testifies concerning them. " Being ignorant of God's right- eousness, they went about to establish their own righteousness, and did not submit themselves unto the righteousness of God." And still this method of justifying sinners is opposed and rejected by THE HEAYT LADEN INVITED TO CHRIST. 273 every *^ natural man." He feels not his disease, and therefore treats the physician with contempt and scorn: whereas the soul that is enlightened by the Spirit of God, and awakened to a sense of its guilt and pollution, hes prostrate before the mercy-seat, crying out with Paul when struck to the ground, " Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do?" It was therefore with peculiar significancy, that our Lord introduced His sermon upon the Mount by adjudging the king- dom of heaven to the "poor in spirit," placing humility in the front of all the other graces, as being the entrance into rehgious temper, the beginning of the Divine hfe, the first step of the soul in its re- turn to God. Secondly. The " laboring and heavy laden" are particularly dis- tinguished, because otherwise, persons in that situation, hopeless of rehef, might be in danger of excluding themselves from the offer of mercy. If there was only a general call to come to the Saviour, the humble convinced soul, pressed down with a sense of its guilt and depravity, might be ready to object. Surely it can not be such a worthless and wicked creature as I am, to whom the Lord directs His invitation. And therefore. He ^' who will not break the bruised reed, nor quench the smoking flax," doth kindly encourage them by this special address, that the very thing which to themselves would appear the greatest obstacle in the way of mercy, might be- come the means of assuring them that they are the very persons for whom mercy is prepared. Let this, then, encourage every weary, self-condemning sinner. The greater your guilt appears in your own eye, the greater ground you have to expect relief if you apply for it. Mercy looks for noth- ing but an affecting sense of the need of mercy. Say not, If my bur- den were of a lesser weight, I might hope to be dehvered from it ; for no burden is too heavy for Omnipotence: He who is '* mighty to save," can easily remove the most oppressive load; "His blood cleanseth from all sin," and " by Him all who believe are justified from all things." This great Physician did not come to heal some slight distempers, but to cure those inveterate plagues, which none besides Himself was able to cure. Whatever your disease be, it shall neither reproach His skill nor His power, and all that He re- quires on your part is a submissive temper to use the means He pre- scribes, with a firm reliance upon their virtue and ef&cacy. If you are truly convinced that your guilt is so great, and your corruptions so strong that none in heaven or on earth can save you from them but Christ alone — if you are groaning under the burden of sin, and can find no rest till pardoning mercy and sanctifying grace biings. 18 274 ROBERT WALKER. you relief, tlien are you in the very posture whicli my text describes, and I may warrantably say unto you what Martha said to Mary, "Arise, quickly, the Master is come, and calleth for thee." And this is His call, " Come imto Me." Which is the Second thing I proposed to explain. ISTow, for understanding this, it will be necessary to remind you of the different characters which our Lord sustains ; or, in other words, the important offices which He executes as our Eedeemer. These, you know, are three, to wit, the offices of a Prophet, of a Priest,, and of a King ; in each of which the Lord Jesus must be distinctly regarded by every soul that comes to Him. Accordingl}^, you may observe, that in this gracious invitation He exhibits HimseLf to our view in all these char- acters ; for to the condescending offer of removing our guilt, He im- mediately annexes the command, " Take My yoke upon you, and learn of Me." Such is our misery by the fall, that we are not only become the objects of God's righteous displeasure, and liable to that awful pun- ishment which was the penalty of the first covenant, but our nature is wholly diseased and corrupted ; so that *' in us, in our flesh, dwell- eth no good thing." Our understanding is darkened, filled with prejudices against the truth, and incapable of discerning spiritual objects : " For the natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God, they are foolishness to Him ; neither can he know them, be- cause they are spiritually discerned." Our will is stubborn and rebel- lions, like " an iron sinew," which no force can bend ; so inflexible in its opposition to the Divine law that it is called in Scripture " enmity against God ;" and all our affections are wild and ungovern- able, deaf to the voice of reason and conscience, in perpetual discord among themselves, and wholly alienated from God, in whom alone they should unite and center. Such a Saviour, therefore, was neces- sary for our relief, as could effectually remedy all those evils, and not only redeem us from wrath, but likewise prejDare us for happiness, by restoring our nature to that original perfection from which it had fallen. For this end, our Lord Jesus Christ, that He might be in all respects furnished for His great undertaking, was solemnly invested by His heavenly Father with each of the important offices I have named; that our understanding being enlightened by His Livine teaching, and our will subdued by His regal power, we might be capable of enjoying the fruits of that pardon, which, as our great High Priest, He hath purchased with His blood. Now in all these characters the Scriptures propose Him to our faith, and we do not THE HEAVY LADEN INVITED TO CHRIST. 275 comply with the invitation in my text, unless we come to Him for the proper work of each office, and embrace Him in the full extent of His commission, that " of God He may be made unto us wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctification, and redemption." It is true, indeed, that the soul, in its first approach to Christ, doth principally regard Him as a priest or a sacrifice ; and therefore faith, as it is employed for justification, or pardon, is emphatically styled " Faith in His blood." To this God looks when He justifies the sinner ; He views him as sprinkled with the blood of atonement, and therefore to the same blood the sinner must necessarily look ■upon his first application to Christ. When the criminal under the law fled to the horns of the altar, he considered the temple rather as a place of protection than of worship. The authority of a teacher, and the majesty of a king, are objects of terror to a self- condemning sinner, and by no means suit his present necessity. Christ, as sufier- ing, and " bearing our sins in His own body on the tree," is the only object that can yield him relief and comfort ; for where shall he find the rest of his soul but where God found the satisfaction of His justice ? ISTevertheless, though Christ upon the cross be the first and most immediate object of faith, yet the believer doth not stop there ; but, having discovered a sufficient atonement for his guilt, he proceeds to contemplate the other characters of his Eedeemer, and heartily approves of them all as perfectly adapted to all his necessities. He hearkens to His instruction, and cheerfully submits to His yoke, and covets nothing so much as to be taught and governed by Him. The ingenuity of faith speaketh after this manner : Seeing Christ is my Priest to expiate my guilt, it is but just and reasonable that He should be my Prophet to teach me, and my King to rule over me ; that as I live by His merits, I should also walk by His law. blessed Jesus 1 saith the soul that comes to Him, Thou true and living way to the Father ! I adore Thy condescending grace in becoming a sacrifice and sin-offiaring for me : and now. encouraged by Thy kind invitation, I flee to Thee as my only city of refuge ; I come to Thee " wretched, and miserable, and poor, and bhnd, and naked" — I have no price to offer Thee, no goodness at all to recom- mend me to Thy favor: " laboring, and heavy laden," I cast myself at Thy feet, and look to Thy free mercy alone for the removal of this burden, which, without Thy interposition, must sink me down to the lowest hell. Abhorring myself in every view I can take, I embrace Thee for my righteousness; sprinkled with Thy atoning blood, I shall not fear the destroying angel — justice hath already 276 ROBERT WALKER. bad its triumpli on Thy cross, and therefore I take Thy cross for my sanctuary. This is my rest; and here will I stay, for 1 like it well. Nor is this my only errand to Thee, thou complete Saviour ! I bring to Thee a dark benighted mind to be illuminated with saviug knowledge. "Thou hast the words of eternal life;" ''in Thee are hid all the treasures of wisdom :" I therefore resign my imderstanding to Thy teaching: for " No man knoweth the Father but the Son, and those to whom the Son shall reveal Him." I hkewise choose Thee for my Lord and my King ; for " Thou art altogether lovely," and in every character necessary to my soul. Here are enemies whom none can vanquish but Thyself; here are corruptions, which nothing less than all-conquering grace can sub- due : I therefore implore Thine almighty aid. Do thou possess Thy throne in my heart, and cast out of it whatever opposeth or offend- eth Thee. It is Tliine already by purchase ; make it Thine also by conquest ! and perform the whole work of a Saviour upon it. After this manner doth the believer address himself to Christ ; and thus doth he answer the call to come unto Him. From all which we ma}' learn our duty in this matter. Let every laboring and heavy laden sinner, who hears me this day, speedily betake him- self to the same happy course : plead his own call, and humbly claim His gracious protection ; flee without delay to His atoning blood, and cleave to Him as the Lord your "righteousness and your strength." I shall afterward represent to you those sure grounds of hope which may encourage you to do this. In the mean time let us consider the gracious promise with which our Lord enforces the invitation, " I will give you rest." This was the Third thing I proposed to illustrate. There can be no doubt that the rest here spoken of, must be, at least, of equal extent with the burden, and include a deliverance from every cause of trouble to the soul. But this subject is an ocean without bottom or shore ; we can not measure the length or breadth of it, neither can its depth be fathomed ; for " the riches of Christ are unsearchable ;" and surely no tongue can express what the mind it- self is unable to comprehend. Nevertheless I shall attempt to say a few things which may be of use to help forward jout comfort and joy, till eternity shall unfold the whole to your view. Doth the guilt of sin and the curse of the law lie heavy upon thy soul ? " Behold the Lamb of God which taketh away the sins of the world." Ii; the sacrifice of Christ there is an infinite merit that THE HEAVY LADEN INVITED TO CHRIST. 277 can never be exhausted. He hatli satisfied the most extensive de- mands of justice, and purchased a full and everlasting indemnity to every penitent believing sinner : so that '' now there is no condem- nation to them which are in Christ Jesus." No sooner doth a soul come to Him in the manner I described, than it "passeth from death to life." He spreads His righteousness over it, and under that cover- ing, presents it to His heavenly Father : from that happy moment it is no longer under the law, but under grace : " For Christ hath redeemed us from the curse of the law, by His being made a curse for us." And what a plentiful source of consolation is this ! Well may the sinner '' be of good cheer," to whom Christ hath said, " Thy sins are forgiven thee." Do you feel a law in your members warring against the law of your mind ? Are you harassed with temptations, and so environed with " a body of death," that you are made to cry out, as Paul once did, ^' wretched man, who shall deliver me I" Look up to that Prince and Saviour, whom God hath exalted, not only to give re- mission of sins, but likewise to bestow repentance upon His people, and grace to help them in every time of need. Christ hath obtained the Holy Spirit, by whose almighty aid the Christian can do all things. He will plant that immortal seed in your hearts, which shall gradually kill the weeds of corruption : so that, according to His faithful word of promise, though sin may lodge and fight within you, yet it shall not be able to get '' dominion over you." Do you fear that some unforeseen cause may provoke B!im to forsake you, to withdraw His love and the communications of His grace? Know that "the gifts and callings of God are without repentance." Christ is the "good Shepherd, who carries the lambs in His bosom ;" and therefore they can not perish, because none is strong enough to pluck them out of His hand. The believer is not left to stand by himself; He who is the author is likewise the finisher of His people's faith. Omnipotence is their guardian ; and they are "kept," not by their own strength, but "by the power of God, through faith unto salvation." These three are surely the heaviest burdens with which the soul of man can be oppressed ; and you see that the Lord Jesus is able to remove them all. There are, no doubt, many other causes of dis- couragement to which we are liable, so long as we sojourn in this valley of tears ; but as none of them are equal to those I have already named, we may certainly conclude that He who performs the greater work, can, with infinite ease, perform the lesser also. And, indeed, if I might stay upon this branch of the subject, 278 ROBEKT WALKER. it would be no difficult task to show that in all other respects believers "are complete in Christ," and may by faith derive from Him whatever is necessary either for their safety or comfort in this world : " For it hath pleased the Father, that in Him should all fall- ness dwell," as it is written. But if we would behold the rest here spoken of in its utmost ex- tent and highest perfection, we must look above us to that heavenly world, from which sin, and all the painful effects of it, are eternally excluded. "There remaineth a rest," said the apostle, "for the people of God." Great and manifold are their privileges even in this world ; but beyond all these, are still more glorious and enrich- ing blessings that await them in the next, which our " ears have not yet heard, neither can our hearts conceive." When we attempt to think of that exalted haj)piness, we can do little more than remove from it in our minds all those afflicting evils and grounds of dis- couragement which we may presently feel : only we must conclude, that whatever the particular ingredients are, the happiness itself must be, in all respects, w^orthy of its glorious Author, and propor- tioned to the infinite price that was paid for it. Our Lord Himself calls it a '' kingdom," nay, a "kingdom prepared from the founda- tion of the world ;" and the Apostle Peter hath recorded three of its distinguishing properties, where he styles it an " inheritance incor- ruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away." Such, my brethren, is that rest which Christ will finally bestow upon His people. They shall " enter into the joy of their Lord." All their burdens shall drop with their natural bodies ; none of them can pass beyond the gTave. Then faith and hope shall become sight and enjoyment ; then love grown perfect shall cast out fear, and nothing shall remain of all their former trials, but the grateful re- membrance of that friendly hand which supported them, and hath at length crowned their " light and momentary aflSictions," with a " far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory." And now, in the review of all that has been said, methinks every sinner who hears me should be ready to answer the call of my test in the language of Peter, " Lord, to whom shall we go but unto Thee ? for Thou hast the words of eternal life." that there were such hearts in us ! But perhaps some humble soul may say. Gladly w^ould I go to this Saviour, willingly would I throw myself at His feet and implore His protection ; but such, alas I is my vileness and unworthiness, so long have I slighted His ofi'ers and abused His grace, that I fear this call, kind as it is, doth not extend to me : my case is singularly bad, and my sins have been aggravated to such a THE HEAVY LADEN INYITED TO CHRIST. 279 degree that my desponding heart hath already pronounced the sen- tence of condemnation ; and the doom appears so just, so righteous, that I can see no ground to hope that ever it shall be reversed. For removing this obstacle, which seems to lie in the way of your return to Christ, let me beg your attention to the following particulars. Consider the great condescension of this Eedeemer. While He was upon the earth, He never rejected any who sought relief from Him : like a sanctuary, whose gates stand continually open. He gave free undebarred access to all, insomuch that His enemies, by way of reproach, styled Him " the friend of publicans and sinners." Neither did our Lord disown the character : on the contrary, He gloried in it, and proclaimed it openly to the world ; declaring, upon all proper occasions, that " He was come to, seek, and to save that which was lost." For this end. He assumed our nature ; for this end. He suf- fered and died ; and upon the same benevolent design. He is now gone up to heaven, "where He appears in the presence of God for us;" — "that if any man sin. He may have an advocate with the Father," to solicit His j^J^i'don, and to plead His cause. And may not these discoveries of His merciful nature expel your fears, and revive your hope ? Has He in a manner laid aside the majesty of a sovereign, and put on the mild and amiable aspect of a tender-heart- ed, sympathizing friend ? and may not this by itself encourage you to draw near to Him, and to claim the blessings of that rest He hath obtained for His people ? But, lo ! He hath prevented you even in this : for all the proofs of His good-will to men, He superadds the most warm and pressing invitations, to come to Him for relief from all their burdens. "In the last day, the great day of the feast, Jesus stood and cried. If any man thirst, let him come unto Me, and drink." " Behold," said He to the degenerated church of the Laodiceans, " Behold, I stand at the door, and knock : if any man will hear My voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and sup with him, and he with Me." And in the concluding chapter of the Eevelation, it is written, " The Spirit and the Bride say. Come : and let him that is a-thirst come : and whosoever mill^ let him come, and take the water of life freely." So that you see my text is not a singular instance of condescension ; the Scriptures are replenished with invitations of the same kind ; and they are all expressed in the most extensive and absolute terms, on pui^ose, as it were, to obviate every possible objection, and to remove all jealousy from the most desponding sinners, who might otherwise have suspected that the call did not reach so far as them. But lest the offer of a Saviour, when viewed as a privilege, 280 ROBEET WALKEE. might still appear in the eyes of some a privilege too liigli for them to aspire to, therefore it hath pleased the Father to interpose His authority, and to make it our duty to embrace the offer : as we learn from that remarkable passage, " This is the command of God, that we should believe on the name of His Son Jesus Christ." So that faith in Christ becomes an act of obedience ; the law of the Su- preme Governor is the sinner's warrant to come to the Saviour ; and therefore it can be no presumption in any, however guilty they have been, to flee to this city of refage, seeing He who hath aj^pointed it, not only permits, but peremptorily commands them to repair to it. And to crown all, our Lord Himself hath declared in the most solemn manner, that none shall be rejected who come to Him for salvation. These are His words: "Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out." I will receive him with outstretched arms ; I will tenderly embrace and cherish him, and so unite him to Myself, that the combined force of earth and hell shall never be able to dis- solve the union, or to separate His soul from My unchangeable love. Lift up thy head, then, "laboring and heavy laden" sinner! Ponder with due attention, those grounds of encouragement I have briefly suggested. Doth the Father command you to believe on His Son ? Doth the Lord Jesus invite, nay, entreat you to come to Him, and nt the same time assure you that " He will in no wise cast you out?"" And shall not this multiplied security remove all vour doubts, and bring you to Him with an humble, but steadfast, hope of obtaining that rest which He offers unto you ? Say not henceforth, My burden is so heavy, and my guilt so great, that I dare not go to Him ; but rather say, My burden is so heavy, that I must go to Him ; for no other arm can remove it but His own. He offers you His help, because you are miserable ; He invites you to come to Him, not because you deserve, but because you need His aid. Arise then, 0, sinners ! and obey His call : cast your burden upon Him who is mighty to save; yield yourselves, without reserve, to this faithful Eedeemer, to be justified by His blood, and sanctified by His Spirit; " take His yoke upon you, and learn of Him ;" and then 3^ou shall find rest to your soul. But what shall I say to those who have never as yet felt the burden of sin? who, amid the deepest poverty and wretchedness imagine themselves to be "rich, and increased with goods, and to stand in need of nothing?" Alas! my friends, what can we do for such ? Shall I denounce the curses of a broken Covenant to alarm their fears ? Shall I publish the terrors of the Lord, and by these THE HEAVY LADEN INYITED TO CHRIST. 281 persuade tliem to flee from the wratli to come? Indeed, considera- tions of this kind seem proper and necessary, to rouse them from that deadly sleep into which they are cast. And believe it, 0, sin- ners 1 that no representations of this sort, however awful they might appear, could exceed, or even equal, the dreadful reality ; for who knoweth the ''power of God's anger?" But as my text breathes nothing but love and clemency, I shall rather, upon this occasion, ''beseech you by the meekness and gen- tleness of Christ," and fetch my arguments from the endearing con- descensions of His mercy and grace. Know, then, 0, sinners ! that, after all the contempt you have thrown upon Him, He is still willing to become your Saviour. Un- grateful as you have been, He once more opens His arms, and in- vites you to come unto Him. He sends us forth this day, to call after you in His name, and to intreat you in His stead to be recon- ciled to God. Behold, in the Gospel- offer, He la3^s, as it were. His crucified body in your way, to stoj) you in your self-destroying course. And will you still press onward, "and trample under-foot the Son of God?" Behold, His blood, like a mighty river, flows between you and the place of torment; and will you force your passage to the everlasting burning through this immense ocean of redeeming love? 0, sinners, think of this ! all who perish under the Gospel must carry this dreadful aggravation along with them : that mercy was in their offer, and they would not accept it ; nay, that they insulted and abused the mercy that would have saved them. And " can your hearts endure, or can your hands be strong, in the day that God shall deal with you" for this contempt ? For the Lord's sake, open your eyes in time ; look upon Him whom you have pierced by 3^ our sins, and mourn. I address you as the angels did Lot, when they brought him forth from Sodom ; " Escape for thy life, look not behind thee, neither stay thou in all the plain :" Flee to the Saviour, "lest thou be consumed." DISCOURSE SIXTIETH. HUGH BLAIK, D.D. This ccloLrated di\dne was born at Edinburg, in 1718, and educated in tlie University of that city. He was licensed to j^reach in 1741, when lie became minister of Collossie, in Fife. In 1743 he was ap- pointed minister of the Canongate, Edinburg; in 1754, he was removed to Lady Tester's, and in 1759, to the High Church, where he continued durmg the remainder of his life. Upon the formation of a professor- sliip of Ilhetoric and Belles-letters, in that city. Dr. Blair was appointed the professor, and here originated his celebrated " Lectures on Compo- sition," lirst published in 17S3. The first volume of his sermons ap- peared in 1777, and acquired a wide popularity. For publishing them he was rewarded with a pension of two himdred pounds per annum. Dr. Blair (lied in 1800. The sermons of Blair are illustrative of a certain school of pulpit elo- quence, Avonderfully popular in his day, in wliich beauty and hterary L'legance were more cared for than the earnest grapple of the truth upon the mind and conscience. The remorseless criticism of John Fos- ter, upon the sermons of this author, is well known. Nevertheless, though, as Foster says, they are free from the proj^erty of Pericles' eloquence, "which left stings behind," yet his sermons are by no means destitute of even high merit, as furnishing specimens of fine taste, neat and perspicuous style, concise statement, and beautiful sim2)hcity. In these resi)eets they are models of their kind. It should be added that though generally lacking in the clear enunciation of some of the great doctrines of revelation, many of his discourses are highly evangehcal. This last remark appHes to the one here given ; which, by common con- sent, is allowed to be the best of liis discom-ses. The title is om'S. THE HOUR AND THE EVENT OF ALL TIME. " Jesus lifted up His eyes to heaven, and said, Father 1 the hour is come." John xvii. 1. These were the words of our blessed Lord on a memorable occa- sion. The feast of the Passover drew nigh, at which He knew that THE HOUR AND THE EVENT OF ALL TIME. 283 He was to suffer. The niglit was arrived wherein He was to be deliv- ered into the hands of His enemies. He had spent the evening in conference with His disciples, like a dying father in the midst of his family, mingling consolations with his last instructions. When He had ended His discourse to them, " He lifted up His eyes to heaven," and with the words which I have now read, began that solemn prayer of intercession for the Church, which closed His ministry. Immediately after, He went forth with His disciples into the garden of Getbsemane, and surrendered Himself to those who came to appre- hend Him. Such was the situation of our Lord at the time of His pronounc- ing these words. He saw His mission on the point of being accom- p)lisher]. He had the prospect full before Him of all that He was about to suffer — " Father ! the hour is come." What hour ? An hour the most critical, the most pregnant with great events, since hours had begun to be numbered, since time had begun to run. It was the hour at which the Son of God was to terminate the labors of His important life by a death still more important and illustrious ; the hour of atoning, by His sufferings, for the guilt of mankind ; the hour of accomplishing prophecies, types, and symbols, which had been carried on through a series of ages ; the hour of concluding the old, and of introducing into the world the new, dispensation of relig- ion; the hour of His triumphing over the world, and death, and hell ; the hour of His erecting that spiritual kingdom which is to last forever. Such is the hour. Such are the events which you are to commemorate in the sacrament of our Lord's Supj^er. I shall attempt to set them before you as proper subjects, at this time, of your devout meditation. To display them in their genuine majesty is beyond the ability of man. I. This was the hour in which Christ was glorified by His suf- ferings. The whole of His life had discovered much real greatness under a mean appearance. Through the cloud of His humiliation, His native luster often broke forth ; but never did it shine so bright as in this last, this trying hour. It was indeed the hour of distress and of blood. He knew it to be such ; and when He uttered the words of the text. He had before His eyes the executioner and the cross, the scourge, the nails, and the spear. But by prospects of this nature His soul was not to be overcome. It is distress which ennobles every great character ; and distress was to glorify the Son of God. He was now to teach all mankind by His example, how to suffer and to die. He was to stand forth before His enemies as the faithful witness of the truth, justifying by His behavior the charac- 284 HUGH BLAIR. ter wbicli He assumed, and sealing by His blood the doctrines wliicli He taught. What magnanimity in all His words and actions on this great occasion I The court of Herod, the judgment-hall of Pilate, the hill of Calvary, were so many theaters prepared for His displaying all the virtues of a constant and patient mind. When led forth to suf- fer, the first voice which we hear from Him is a generous lamentation over the fate of His unfortunate though guilty country ; and to the last moment of His life we behold Him in possession of the same gentle and benevolent spirit. ISTo upbraiding, no complaining ex- pression escaped from His lips during the long and painful approaches of a cruel death. He betrayed no symptom of a weak or a vulgar, of a discomposed or impatient mind. With the utmost attention of filial tenderness He committed His aged mother to the care of His beloved disciple. With all the dignity of a sovereign He conferred pardon on a penitent fellow-sufferer. With a greatness of mind be- yond example, He spent His last moments in apologies and prayers for those who were shedding His blood. By wonders in heaven, and Avonders on earth was this hour dis- tinguished. All nature seemed to feel it ; and the dead and the liv- ing bore witness of its importance. The vail of the temple was rent in twain. The earth shook. There was darkness over all the land. The graves were opened, and " many who slept arose, and went into the holy city." Nor were these the only prodigies of this awful hour. The most hardened hearts were subdued and changed. The judge who, in order to gratify the multitude, passed sentence against Him, publicly attested His innocence. The Eoman centurion who presided at the execution, *^ glorified God," and acknowledged the Sufferer to be more than man. " After he saw the things which had passed, he said, Certainly this was a righteous person : truly this was the Son of God." The Jewish malefactor who was crucified with Him addressed Him as a King, and implored His favor. Even the crowd of insensible spectators, who had come forth as to a common spectacle, and who began with clamors and insults, " returned home smiting their breasts." Look back on the heroes, the philosophers, the legislators of old. View them in their last moments. Eecall every circumstance which distinguished their departure from the world. Where can you find such an assemblage of high virtues, and of great events, as concurred at the death of Christ ? Where so many testimonials given to the dignity of the dying person by earth and by heaven ? THE HOUR AND THE EVENT OF ALL TIME. 285 n. This was the hour in which Christ atoned for the sins of mankind, and accomplished our eternal redemption. It was the hour when that great sacrifice was offered up, the efficacy of which reaches back to the first transgression of man, and extends forward to the end of time ; the hour when, from the cross, as from an high altar, the blood was flowing which washed away the guilt of the nations. This awfal dispensation of the Almighty contains mysteries which are beyond the discovery of man. It is one of those things into which " the angels desire to look." What has been revealed to us is, that the death of Christ was the interposition of Heaven for preventing the ruin of human kind. We know that under the gov- ernment of God, misery is the natural consequence of guilt. After rational creatures had, by their criminal conduct, introduced disorder into the Divine kingdom, there was no gi'ound to believe that by their penitence and prayers alone they could prevent the destruction which threatened them. The prevalence of propitiatory sacrifices throughout the earth, proclaims it to be the general sense of mankind, that mere repentance was not of sufficient avail to expiate sin or to stop its penal effects. By the constant allusions which are carried on in the New Testament to the sacrifices under the law, as pre-sig- nifying a great atonement made by Christ, and by the strong expres- sions which are used in describing the effects of His death, the sacred writers show, as plainly as language allows, that there was an efficacy in His sufferings far beyond that of mere example and instruction. The nature and extent of that efficacy we are unable as yet, fully to trace. Part we are capable of beholding ; and the wisdom of what we behold we have reason to adore. We discern, in this plan of redemption, the evil of sin strongly exhibited, and the justice of the Divine government awfully exemplied, in Christ suffering for sin- ners. But let us not imagine that our present discoveries unfold the whole influence of the death of Christ. It is connected with causes into which we can not penetrate. It produces consequences too ex- tensive for us to explore. " God's thoughts are not as our thoughts." In all things we "see only in part;" and here, if any where, we see also ''as through a glass, darkly." This, however, is fully manifest, that redemption is one of the most glorious works of the Almighty. If the hour of the creation of the world was great and illustrious ; that hour, when, from the dark and formless mass, this fair system of nature arose at the Divine command ; when " The morning-stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy;" no less illustrious is the hour of 286 HUGH BLAIR. the restoration of tlie world ; tlie liour when, from condemnation and misery, it emerged into happiness and peace. With less exter- nal majesty it was attended ; but it is, on that account, the more won- derful, that, under an appearance so simple, such great events were covered. III. In this hour the long series of prophecies, visions, types, and figures were accomplished. This was the center in which they all met : this the point toward which they had tended and verged, throughout the course of so many generations. You behold the Law and the Prophets standing, if we may speak so, at the foot of the cross, and doing homage. You behold Moses and Aaron bearing the ark of the covenant ; David and Elijah presenting the oracle of testimony. You behold all the priests and sacrifices, all the rites and ordinances, all the types and symbols assembled together to re- ceive their consummation. Without the death of Christ, the worship and ceremonies of the law would have remained a pompous, but un- meaning, institution. In the hour when He was crucified, " the book with the seven seals" was opened. Every rite assumed its significancy ; every prediction met its event ; every symbol displayed its corre- spondence. The dark and seemingly ambiguous method of conveying im- portant discoveries under figures and emblems, was not pecuhar to the sacred books. The spirit of God in pre-signifying the death of Christ, adopted that plan, according to which the whole knowledge of those early ages was propagated through the world. Under the vail of mysterious allusion, all wisdom was then concealed. From the sensible world, images were every where borrowed, to de- scribe things unseen. More was understood to be meant than was openly expressed. By enigmatical rites, the priest communicated his doctrines; by parables and allegories, the philosopher instructed his disciples ; even the legislator, by figurative sayings, commanded the reverence of the people. Agreeably to this prevailing mode of instruction, the whole dispensation of the Old Testament was so conducted, as to be the shadow and figure of a spiritual system. Every remarkable event, every distinguished personage, under the law, is interpreted in the New Testament, as bearing reference to the hour of which we treat. If Isaac was laid upon the altar as an inno- cent victim ; if David was driven from his throne by the wicked, and restored by the hand of God ; if the brazen serpent was lifted up to heal the peojole ; if the rock was smitten by Moses, to furnish drink in the wilderness ; all were types of Christ and alluded to His death. In predicting the same event the language of ancient prophecy THE HOUR AND THE BYENT OP ALL TIME. 287 was magnificent, but seemingly contradictory : for it foretold a Messiah, wlio was to be at once a sufferer and a conqueror. The JStar was to come out of Jacoh^ and the Branch to spring from the stem of Jesse. TJie Angel of the Covenant^ the desire of all nations^ was to come suddenly to His temple ; and to Him was to be " the gathering of the people." Yet, at the same time. He was to be '* despised and rejected of men;" he was to be "taken from prison and from judgment," and to be "led as a lamb to the slaughter." Though He was "a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief," yet "the Gentiles were to come to His light, and kings to the brightness of His rising." In the hour when Christ died, those prophetical riddles were solved: those seeming contradictions were reconciled. The obscurity of oracles, and the ambiguity of types, vanislied. The "sun of righteousness" rose ; and, together with the dawn of religion, those shadows passed away. lY. This was the hour of the abolition of the law, and the in- troduction of the Gospel ; the hour of terminating the old and of beginning the new dispensation of religious knowledge and worship throughout the earth. Viewed in this light, it forms the most august era which is to be found in the history of mankind. When Christ was suffering on the cross, we are informed by one of the evangelists, that He said, " I thirst ;" and that they filled a sponge with vinegar, and put it to His mouth. " After He had tasted the vinegai', knowing that all things were now accomplished, and the Scriptures fulfilled, he said, It is finished ;" that is, this offered draught of vinegar was the last circumstance predicted by an ancient prophet, that remained to be fulfilled. The vision and the prophecy are now sealed : the Mosaic dispensation is closed. "And He bowed His head and gave up the ghost." " It is finished." When He uttered these words He changed the state of the universe. At that moment the law ceased, and the Gos- pel commenced. This was the ever-memorable point of time which separated the old and the new worlds from each other. On one side of the point of separation, you behold the law, with its priests, its sacrifices, and its rites, retiring from sight. On the other side, you behold the Gospel, with its simple and venerable institutions, coming forward into view. Significantly was the vail of the temple rent in this hour ; for the glory then departed from between the cherubim. The legal high priest delivered up his Urim and Thummim, his breast-plate, his robes, and his incense : and Christ stood forth as the great High Priest of all succeeding generations. By that one sacrifice which He now offered, He abolished sacrifices forever. 288 HUGH BLAIB. Altars on wliich the fire had blazed for ages, were now to smoke no more. Yictims were no more to bleed. '' Not with the blood of bulls and goats, but with His own blood He now entered into the holy place, there to appear in the presence of God for us." This was the hour of association and union to all the worship- ers of God. When Christ said, " It is finished," He threw down the wall of partition which had so long divided the Gentile from the Jew. He gathered into one, all the faithful out of every kindred and people. He proclaimed the hour to be come when the knowl- edge of the true God should be no longer confined to one nation, nor His worship to one temple ; but over all the earth, the worship- ers of the Father should "serve Him in spirit and in truth." From that hour they who dwelt in the " uttermost ends of the earth, stran- gers to the Covenant of promise," began to be "brought nigh." In that hour the light of the Gospel dawned from afar on the British Islands. During a long course of ages. Providence seemed to be occu- pied in preparing the world for this revolution. The whole Jewish economy was intended to usher it in. The knowledge of God was preserved unextinguished in one corner of the world, that thence, in due time, might issue forth the light which was to over- spread the earth. Successive revelations gradually enlarged the views of men beyond the narrow bounds of Judea, to a more ex- tensive kingdom of God. Signs and miracles awakened their expectation, and directed their eyes toward this great event. Whether God descended on the flaming mountain, or spoke by the Prophet's voice ; whether He scattered His chosen people into cap- tivity, or re- assembled them in their own land ; He was still carry- in on a progressive plan, which was accomplished at the death of Christ. Not only in the territories of Israel, but over all the earth, the great dispensations of Providence respected the approach of this important hour. K empires rose or fell ; if war divided, or peace united, the nations ; if learning civilized their manners, or philoso- phy enlarged their views ; all was, by the secret decree of Heaven, made to ripen the world for that " fullness of time," when Christ was to publish the whole counsel of God. The Persian, the Macedo- nian, the Koman conqueror, entered upon the stage each at his pre- dicted period; and " though He meant not so, neither did His heart think so," ministered to this hour. The revolutions of power and the succession of monarchies, were so arranged by Providence as to facilitate the progress of the Gospel through the habitable world THE HOUR AND THE EVENT OF ALL TIME. 289 after the day had arrived, '' when the stone which was cut out of the mountain without hands, should become a great mountain and fill the earth." This was the day which " Abraham saw afar ofP, and was glad." This was the day which "many prophets^ and kings, and righteous men, desired to see, but could not ;" the day for which ''the earnest expectation of the creature," long oppressed with ignorance, and bewildered in superstition, might be justly said to ivait. Y. This was the hour of Christ's triumph over all the powers of darkness ; the hour in which He overthrew dominions and thrones, "led captivity captive, and gave gifts unto men." The contest which the kingdom of darkness had long maintained against the kingdom of light was now brought to its crisis. The period was come when "the seed of the woman shall bruise the head of the serpent." For many ages, the most gross superstition had filled the earth. "The glory of the incorruptible Grod" was every where, ex- cept in the land of Judea, " changed into images made like to cor- ruptible man, and to birds, and beasts, and creeping things." The world, which the Almighty created for Himself, seemed to have be- come a temple of idols. Even to vices and passions altars were' raised ; and what was entitled Eeligion, was in effect a discipline of' impurity. In the midst of this universal darkness, Satan had erected' his throne and the learned and the polished, as well as the savage- nations, bowed down before him. But at the hour when Christ ap^ peared on the cross, the signal of his defeat was given. His king- dom suddenly departed from him : the reign of idolatry passed away : He was "beheld to fall like lightning from heaven." In that- hour the foundation of every Pagan temple shook. The statue of every false god tottered on its base. The priest fled from his falling shrine ; and the heathen oracles became dumb forever. As on the cross, Christ triamphed over Satan, so He overcame- his auxiliary, the world. Long had it assailed Him with its tempt- ations and discouragements ; in this hour of severe trial, He sur- mounted them all. Formerly He had despised the pleasures of the world. He now baf&ed its terrors. Hence He is justly said to have "crucified the world." By His sufferings He ennobled distress;, and He darkened the luster of the pomp and vanities of life. He discovered to His followers the path which leads, through affliction, to glory and to victory ; and He imparted to them the same spirit which enabled Him to overcome. " My kingdom is not of this world. In this world ye shall have tribulation, but be of good. cheer, I have overcome the world." 19 290 HUGH BLAIR. Deatli also, the last foe of man, was tlie victim of this hour. The formidable appearance of the specter remained ; but his dart was taken away. For, in the hour when Christ expiated guilt, He disarmed death, by securing the resurrection of the just. When He said to His penitent fellow-sufferer, " To-day thou shalt be with Me in paradise," He announced to all His followers the certainty of heav- enly bliss. He declared the cherubim to be dismissed, and the fiaming sword to be sheathed, which had been appointed at the fall, ^'to keep from man the way of the tree of life." Faint, before this period, had been the hope, indisstinct the prospect, which even good men enjoyed of the heavenly kingdom. "Life and immortality were now brought to light." From the hill of Calvary the first clear and certain view was given to the world of the everlasting mansions. Since that hour, they have been the perpetual consola- tion of believers in Christ. Under trouble, they soothe their minds ; amid temptation, they support their virtue ; and in their dying mo- ments enable them to say, '^ 0, death I where is thy sting? 0, grave ! where is thy victory?" YI. This was the hour when our Lord erected that spiritual kingdom which is never to end. How vain are the counsels and designs of men ! How shallow is the policy of the wicked ! How short their triumphing! The enemies of Christ imagined that in this hour they had successfully accomplished their plan for His de- struction. They believed that they had entirely scattered the small party of His followers, and had extinguished His name and His honor forever. In derision they addressed Him as a king. They clothed Him with jDurple robes ; they crowned Him with a crown of thorns ; they put a reed into His hand ; and, with insulting mock- ery, bowed the knee before Him. Blind and impious men ! How little did they know that the Almighty was, at that moment " setting Him as a king on the hill of Sion ; giving Him the heathen for His inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth for His possession !" How little did they know that their badges of mock royalty were at that moment converted into the signals of absolute dominion, and the instruments of irresistible power ! The reed which they put into His hands became " a rod of iron," with which He was to *' break in pieces His enemies ;" a scepter with which He was to rule the uni- verse in righteousness. The cross, which they thought was to stig- matize Him with infamy, became the ensign of His renown. In- stead of being the reproach of His followers, it was to be their boast and their glory. The cross was to shine on palaces and churches throughout the earth. It was to be assumed as the distinction of THE HOUR AND THE BYENT OF ALL TIME. 291 the most powerfal monarcliS; and to wave in the banner of victori- ous armies wlien the memory of Herod and Pilate should be accursed ; when Jerusalem should be reduced to ashes, and the Jews be vagabonds over all the world. These were the triumphs which commenced at this hour. Our Lord saw them already in their birth ; "He saw of the travail of His soul, and was satisfied." He beheld the word of God going forth, conquering, and to conquer; subduing, to the obedience of His laws, the subduers of the world ; carrying hght into the regions of darkness, and mildness into the habitations of cruelty. He be- held the Gentiles waiting below the cross, to receive the Gospel. He beheld Ethiopia and the Isles stretching out their hands to God ; the desert beginning to rejoice and to blossom as the rose ; and the knowledge of the Lord filling the earth, as the waters cover the sea. "Well pleased, He said, "It is finished." As a conqueror. He re- tired from the field, reviewing His triumphs : ^' He bowed BQs head and gave up the ghost." From that hour, Christ was no longer a mortal man, but " Head over all things to the Church ;" the glorious King of men and angels, of whose dominion there shaU be no end. His triumphs shall perpetually increase. " His name shall endure forever ; it shall last as long as the sun ; men shall be blest in Him, and all nations shall call Him blessed." Such were the transactions, such the effects, of this ever-memo- rable hour. With all those great events was the mind of our Lord filled, when He lifted up His eyes to heaven, and said, " Father I the hour is come." From this view which we have taken of this subject, permit me to suggest, what ground it affords to confide in the mercy of God for the pardon of sin ; to trust to His faithfulness, for the accomplish- ment of all His promises ; and to approach to Him, with gratitude and devotion, in acts of worship. In the first place, the death of Christ affords us ground to con- fide in the Divine mercy for the pardon of sin. All the steps of that high dispensation of Providence, which we have considered, lead directly to this conclusion, " He that spared not His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how shall He not with Him also freely give us all things?" This is the final result of the discoveries of the Gospel. On this rests the great system of consolation, which it hath reared up for men. We are not left to dubious and intri- cate reasonings, concerning the conduct which God may be expected to hold toward His offending creatures : but we are led to the view of important and illustrious facts, which strike the mind with evi- 292 HUGH BLAIR. dence irresistible. For is it possible to believe, that sucb great oper- ations, as I have endeavored to describe, were carried on bj tlie Almighty in vain ? Did He excite in the hearts of His creatures such encouraging hopes, without any intention to fulfill them ? Af- ter so long a prej)aration of goodness, could He mean to deny for- giveness to the penitent and the humble ? When they come by the sense of guilt, man looks up with an astonished eye to the justice of his Creator, let him recollect that hour of which the text speaks, and be comforted. The signals of Divine mercy, erected in his view, are too conspicuous to be either distrusted or mistaken. In the next place, the discoveries of this hour afford the highest reason to trust in the Divine faithfulness for the accomplishment of every promise which remains yet unfulfilled. For this was the hour of the completion of God's ancient covenant. It was the '' performance of the mercy promised to the fathers." We behold the consummation of a great plan, which, throughout a course of ages, had been uniformly pursued ; and which, against every human appearance, was, at the appointed moment, exactly ful- filled. " No word that is gone out of the mouth of the Lord shall fail." No length of time alters His purpose. ISTo obstacles can retard it. Toward the ends accomplished in this hour, the most repugnant instruments were made td operate. We discern God bending to His purpose the jarring passions, the opposite interests, and even the vices of men ; uniting seeming contrarieties in His scheme ; making " the wrath of man to praise Him ;" obhging the ambition of princes, the prejudices of the Jews, the malice of Satan, all to concur, either in bringing forward this hour, or in completing its destined effects. With what entire confidence ought we to wait for the fulfillment of all His other promises in their due time ; even when events are most embroiled, and the prospect is most discouraging : '^ Although thou sayest, thou canst not see Him, yet judgment is before Him ; there- fore trust thou in Hira." Be attentive only to perform thy duty; leave the event to God, and be assured, that under the direction of His Providence, " all things shall work together" for a happy issue. Lastly, the consideration of this whole subject tends to excite gratitude and devotion, when we approach to God in acts of worship. The hour of which I have discussed, presents Him to us in the ami- able light of the Deliverer of mankind, the Eestorer of our forfeited hopes. We behold the greatness of the Almighty, softened by the mild radiance of condescension and mercy. We behold Him dimin- ishing the awful distance at which we stand from His presence, by appointing for us a Mediator and Intercessor, through whom the THE HOUR AND THE EVENT OF ALL TIME. £93 humble may, without dismay, approacli to Him -who made them. By such views of the Divine nature, Christian faith lays the founda- tion for a worship which shall be at once rational and affectionate ; a worship in which the light of the understanding shall concur with the devotion of the heart, and the most profound reverence be united with the most cordial love. Christian faith is not a system of specu- lative truths. It is not a lesson of moral instruction only. By a train of high discoveries which it reveals, by a succession of interest- ing objects which it places in our view, it is calculated to elevate the mind, to purify the affections, and by the assistance of devotion, to confirm and encourage virtue. Such, in particular, is the scope of that Divine institution, the Sacrament of our Lord's Supper. To this happy purpose let it conduce, by concentering in one striking point of Hght all that the Gospel has displayed of what is most im- portant to man. Touched with just contrition for past offenses, and filled with a grateful sense of Divine goodness, let us come to the altar of God, and, with a humble faith in His infinite mercies, devote ourselves to His service forever. DISCOURSE SIXTY-FIRST, JOHN LOaAN, F.R.S. Logan was born in 1748, at Fulla, in the county of Mid-Lothian, of parents who belonged to the Burgher Seceders, and was educated at the parochial school and the University of Edinburg. Having completed his theological studies, he soon became celebrated for his eloquence, and was called to become one of the muiisters of South Leith Church and parish. He was desu'ous of high Hterary success, and its honors and emoluments, in which he was somewhat disappointed, and possessing a sensitive na- tm-e, melancholy came over his spirits, dissatisfaction arose among his parishioners, and he at length resigned the ministry, and devoted his re- mahiing days to hterary pursuits. In the bloom of his years, health de- clined, and he closed his life December 25th, 1788. Logan was a man of elegant taste and fervid genius, and published at difierent times, poems of a lyric, di-amatic, and elegiac character. Of his sermons, some forty in nmuber, and recently pubhshed in this country, Dr. Wheddon remarks, " If mastery in any department is to be learned fi'om the masters, to few masters of pulpit style in om* language, can om' ministry resort superior to Logan. In the richness and range of his lan- guage, in the graceful swell of his ever-varjdng periods, in the animated expansion of his chmactic paragraphs, he satisfies the fancy, while in the cha.steness and manliness of his style, in the pmity of his diction, and the burnish of his texture, he may challenge the severest taste, and assert himself a place among the Enghsh classics." The following is certamly a production of high order in point of hterary excellence. THE CHEISTIAN'S YICTOEY OYER DEATH. ''0 death, where is thy stmg? grave, where is thy victoiy? Thaaks be to God who giveth us the victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ." — 1 COR. xv. 55, 51. The Messiah is foretold in ancient prophecy, as a magnificent Conqueror. His victories were celebrated, and His triumphs were THE CHRISTIAN'S YICTORT OYER DEATH. 295 snug, long before tlie time of His appearance to Israel. *' Who is this," saith the prophet Isaiah, pointing Him out to the Old Testa- ment Church, " Who is this that cometh from Edom ; with dyed garments from Bozrah ? This that is glorious in His apparel, trav- eling in the greatness of His strength ?" *' I have set my King upon my holy hill of Zion. I shall give Him the heathen for His inher- itance, and the uttermost parts of the earth for His possession." As a Conqueror, He had to destroy the works of the great enemy of mankind ; and to overcome death, the king of terrors. The method of accomplishing this victory, was as surprising as the love which gave it birth. " Forasmuch as the children are par- takers of flesh and blood, He Himself likewise took part of the same, that through His own death, He might destroy Him that had the power of death, that is the devil, and deliver them, who, through fear of death, were all their lifetime subject to bondage." Accord- ingly, His passion on the cross, which you have this day commem- orated, was the very victory which He obtained. The hour in which He suffered, was also the hour in which He overcame. Then He bruised the head of the old serpent, who had seduced our first parents to rebel against their Maker ; then He disarmed the king of terrors, who had usurped dominion over the nations ; then triumph- ing over the legions of hell, and the powers of darkness. He made a show of them openly. Not for Himself, but for us did He con- quer. The Captain of our salvation fought, that we might over- come. He obtained the victory, that we may join in the triumphal song, as we now do, when we repeat these words of the apostle : " death, where is thy sting ? O grave, where is thy victory ?" It is the glory of the Christian religion, that it abounds with consolations under all the evils of life ; nor is its benign influence confined to the course of life, but even extends to death itself It delivers us from the agony of the last hour ; sets us free from the fears which then perplex the timid ; from the horrors which haunt the offender, though penitent, and from all the darkness which in- volves our mortal state. So complete is the victory we obtain, that Jesus Christ is said in Scripture to have abolished death. The evils in death, from which Jesus Christ sets us free, are the following : in the first place. The doubts and fears that are apt to perplex the mind, from the uncertainty in which a future state is involved. Secondly. The apprehensions of wrath and forebodings of punishments, proceeding from the consciousness of sin. Tliirdly. The fears that arise in the mind upon the awful transition from this world to the next. 296 JOHN LOaAN. In the first place, Jesus Christ gives us yictorj over death, by delivering us from the doubts and fears which arose in the minds of those who knew not the Gospel, from the uncertainty in which a future state was involved. Without Divine Eevelation, men wandered in the dark with respect to an after life. Unassisted reason could give but imperfect information on this important article. Conjectures, in place of dis- coveries, presumptions, in place of demonstrations, were all that it could offer to the inquiring mind. The unenlightened eye could not clearly pierce the cloud which vailed futurity from mortal view. The light of nature reached little further than the limits of this globe, and shed but a feeble ray upon the region beyond the grave. Hence, those heathen nations, of whom the apostle speaks, are de- scribed as sorroicing and having no hoioe. And whence could reason derive complete information, that there was a state of immortality beyond the grave? Consult with appearances in nature, and you find but few intimations of a future life. Destruction seems to be one of the great laws of the system. The various forms of life are indeed preserved ; but while the species remains, the individual per- ishes. Every thing that you behold around you bears the marks of mortality and the symptoms of decay. He only who is, and was, and is to come, is without any variableness or shadow of turning. Every thing passes away. A great and mighty river, for ages and centuries, has been rolling on, and sweeping away all that ever lived, to the vast abyss of eternity. On that darkness light does not rise. From that unknown country none return. On that de- vouring deep, which has swallowed up every thing, no vestige ap- pears of the things that were. There are particular appearances also which might naturally excite an alarm for the future. The human machine is so consti- tuted, that sou] and body seem often to decay together. To the eye of sense, as the beast dies, so dies the man. Death seems to close the scene, and the grave to put a final period to the prospects of man. The words of Job beautifully express the anxiety of the mind on the subject. ''If a man die, shall he live again? There is hope of a tree if it be cut down, that it will sprout again, and that the tender branch thereof will not cease. Though the root thereof wax old in the earth, and the stock thereof die in the ground ; yet, through the scent of water it will bud, and bring forth boughs like a plant: but man dieth, and is cut off; man giveth up the ghost, and where is he ? As the waters fail from the sea ; as the flood decayeth and drieth up; so man lieth down, and riseth not; till the THE CHRISTIAN'S YICTORT OVER DEATH. 297 heavens be no more, tTiej shall not awake, nor be raised out of their sleep." But what a dreadful prospect does annihilation present to the mind I To be an outcast from existence; to be blotted out from the book of life ; to mingle with the dust, and be scattered over the earth, as if the breath of life had never animated our frame ! Man can not support the thought. Is the light which shone brighter than all the stars of heaven set in darkness, to rise no more ? Are all the hopes of man come to this, to be taken into the councils of the Almighty ; to be admitted to behold part of that plan of Provi- dence which governs the world, and when his eyes are just opened to read the book, to be shut forever ? If such were to be our state, we would be of all creatures the most miserable. The world ap- pears a chaos without form, and void of order. From the throne of nature, God departs, and there appears a cruel and capricious being, who dehghts in death, and makes sport of human misery. From this state of doubts and fears, we are delivered by the Gospel of Jesus. The message which He brought, was life and im- mortality. From the Star of Jacob, light shone even upon the shades of death. As a proof of immortality, He called back the de- parted spirit from the world unknown ; as an earnest of the resur- rection to a future life, He Himself arose from the dead. When we contemplate the tomb of nature, we cry out, " Can these dry bones live?" When we contemplate the tomb of Jesus, we say, "Yes, they can live !" As He arose, we shall in like manner arise. In the tomb of nature, you see man return to the dust from whence he was taken ; in the tomb of Jesus you see man restored to life again. In the tomb of nature you see the shades of death fall on the weary traveler, and the darkness of the long night close over his head ; in the tomb of Jesus, you see light arise upon the shades of death, and the morning dawn upon the long night of the grave. On the tomb of nature, it is written, " Behold thy end, man ! Dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return. Thou, who now callest thyself the son of heaven, shall become one of the clods of the valley;" on the tomb of Christ is written, "Thou diest, O man, but to live again. When dust returns to dust, the spirit shall return to God who gave it. I am the resurrection and the hfe ; he that believeth in Me, though he were dead, yet shall he live." From the tomb of nature, you hear a voice, " Forever silent is the land of for- getfulness ! From the slumbers of the grave shall we awake no more! Like the flowers of the field, shall we be as though we had never been!" from the tomb of Jesus, you hear, "Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord, thus saith the Spirit, for they rest from 298 JOHN LOGAN. tlieir labors, and pass into glory. In my Father's house, there are many mansions ; if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you, and if I go away, I will come again, and take you unto Myself, that where I am, there ye may be also." Will not this assurance of a happy immortality and a blessed resurrection, in a great measure remove the terror and the sting of death ? May we not walk without dismay through the dark valley, when we are conducted by a beam from heaven ? May we not en- dure the tossings of one stormy night, when it carries us to the shore that Ti'e long for ? What cause have we to dread the messenger who brings us to our Father's house ? Should not our fears about futurity abate, when we hear God addressing us with respect to death, as He did the patriarch of old, upon going to Egypt, "Fear not to go down to the grave ; I will go down with thee, and will bring thee up again?" Secondly^ Our victory over death consists in our being dehvered from the apprehensions of wrath and forebodings of punishment, which arise in the mind from the consciousness of sin. That there is a God who governs the world, the patron of righteousness and the avenger of sin, is so manifest from the hght of nature, that the belief of it has obtained among all nations. That it shall be well with the righteous, and ill with the wicked ; that God will reward those who will diligently seek Him, and punish those who transgress His laws, is the principle upon which all religion is founded. But whether mercy be an attribute in the Divine nature to such an extent that God may be rendered propitious to those who rebel against His authority and disobey His commandments, is an inquiry to which no satisfactory answer can be made. Many of the Pivine attributes are conspicuous from the works of creation ; the power, the wisdom, and the goodness of God, appear in creating the world ; in superintending that world which He has made ; in dif- fusing life wide over the system of things, and providing the means of happiness to all His creatures. But from no appearances in nature does it clearly follow, that the exercise of mercy to offenders is part of the plan by which the universe is governed. For any thing that we know from the hght of nature, repentance alone may not be suffi- cient to procure the remission of sins ; the tears of contrition may be unavailable to wash away the stains of a guilty life, and the Divine favor may be implored in vain by those who have become obnoxious to the Divine displeasure. If in the calm and serene hour of inquiry, man could find no consolation in such thoughts, how would he be overwhelmed with horror, when his mind was disordered with THE CHEISTIAN'S YICTORT OYER DEATH. 299 a sense of guilt ? When remembrance brouglit his former life to view, when reflection pierced him to the heart, darkness would spread itself over his mind, Deity would appear an object of terror, and the spirit, wounded by remorse, would discern nothing but an offended Judge armed with thunders to punish the guilty. If, in the day of health and prosperity, these reflections were so powerful to embitter life, they would be a source of agony and despair when the last hour approached. When life flows according to our wishes, we may endeavor to conceal our sins, and shut our ears against the voice of conscience. But these artifices will avail little at the hour of death. Then things appear in their true colors. Then conscience * tells the truth, and the mask is taken off from the man, when our sins at that hour pass before us in review. Guilty and polluted as we are, covered with confusion, how shall we appear at the judgment- seat of Grod, and answer at the bar of eternal justice ? How shall dust and ashes stand in the presence of that uncreated glory, before which principaHties and powers bow down, tremble, and adore? How shall guilty and self-condemned creatures appear before Him, in whose sight the heavens are not clean, and who chargeth His an- gels with folly? This is the sting of death. It is guilt that sharpens the spear of the King of Terrors. But even in this view we have victory over death, through Jesus Christ our Lord. By His death upon the Cross, an atonement was made for the sins of men. The wrath of God was averted from the world. A great plan of reconcihation is now unfolded in the Gospel. Under the banner of the cross, pardon is proclaimed to returning penitents. They who accept the offers of mercy, and who fly for refuge to the hope set before them, are taken into favor ; their sins are forgiven, and their names are written in the book of life. Over them death has no power. The king of terrors is transformed into an angel of peace, to waft them to their native country, where they long to be. This, Christian ! the death of thy Eedeemer, is thy strong con- solation ; thy effectual remedy against the fear of death. What evil can come nigh to him for whom Jesus died ? Does the law which thou hast broken, denounce vengeance against thee ? Behold that law fulfilled in the meritorious life of thy Redeemer. Does the sen- tence of wrath pronounced against the posterity of Adam sound in thine ears ? Behold that sentence blotted out, that handwriting^ as the apostle calls it, cancelled, nailed to thy Saviour's cross, and left there as a trophy of His victory. Art thou afraid that the cry of thy offenses may rise to heaven, and reach the ears of justice ? There is no place for it there ; in room of it ascends the voice of that SOO JOHN LOGAN. blood whicli speaketb. better tbings tban tbe blood of Abel. Does tbe enemy of mankind accuse tbee at tbe judgment-seat? He is put to silence by tbj Advocate and Intercessor at tbe rigbt band of tby Fatber. Does deatb appear to tbee in a form of terror, and bold out bis sting to alarm tby mind ? His terror is removed, and bis sting was pulled out by tbat band, wbicb, on Mount Calvary, was fixed to tbe accursed tree. Art tbou afraid tbat tbe arrows of Divine "wratb wbicb smite tbe guilty, may be aimed at tby bead ? Before tbey can toucb tbee, tbey must pierce tbat body, wbicb, in tbe symbols of Divine institution, was tbis day beld fortb crucified among you, and wbicb at tbe rigbt band of tbe Majesty in tbe beavens, is for- ever presented in bebalf of tbe redeemed. Well tben may ye join in tbe triumpbant song of tbe apostle, " deatb, wbere is tby sting? grave, wbere is tby victory ?" In tbe third place, Jesus Cbrist gives us victory over deatb, by yielding us consolation and relief under tbe fears tbat arise in tbe mind upon tbe awful transition from tbis world to tbe next. Wbo ever left tbe precincts of mortality witbout casting a wisb- ful look on wbat be left bebind, and a trembbng eye on tbe scene tbat is before bim ? Being formed by our Creator for enjoyments even in tbis life, we are endowed witb a sensibility to tbe objects around us. We bave affections, and we deligbt to indulge tbem : we bave bearts, and we want to bestow tbem. Bad as tbe world is, we find in it objects of affection and attacbment. Even in tbis waste and bowling wilderness, tbere are spots of verdure and of beauty, of power to cbarm tbe mind and make us cry out, " It is good for us to be bere." Wben, after tbe observation and expe- rience of years, we bave found out tbe objects of tbe soul, and met witb minds congenial to our own, wbat pangs must it give to tbe beart to tbink of parting forever ? We even contract an attacbment to inanimate objects. Tbe tree under wbose sbadow we bave often sat ; tbe fields wbere we bave frequently strayed ; tbe bill, tbe scene of contemplation, or tbe baunt of friendsbip, become objects of pas- sion to tbe mind, and upon our leaving tbem, excite a temporary sorrow and regret. If tbese tbings can affect us witb uneasiness, bow great must be tbe aflaiction, wben stretcbed on tbat bed from wbicb we sball rise no more, and looking about for tbe last time on tbe sad circle of our weeping friends ! How great must be tbe affliction, to dissolve at once all tbe attacbments of life ; to bid an eternal adieu to tbe friends wbom we long bave loved, and to part forever witb all tbat is dear below tbe sun I But let not tbe Cbris- tian be disconsolate. He parts witb tbe objects of bis affection to THE CHRISTIAN'S YICTORT OYER DEATH. gQl meet them again ; to meet them in a better world, where change never enters, and from whose bhssful mansions sorrow flies awaj. At the resurrection of the just ; in the great assembly of the sons of God, when all the family of heaven are gathered together, not one person shall be missing that was worthy of thy affection or esteem. And if among imperfect creatures, and in a troubled world, the kind, the tender, and the generous affections have such power to charm the heart, that even the tears which they occasion delight us, what joy unspeakable and glorious will they produce, when they exist in per- fect minds, and are improved by the purity of the heavens ! Christianity also gives us consolation in the transition from this world to the next. Every change in life awakens anxiety ; what- ever is unknown, is the object of fear ; no wonder then that it is awful and alarming to nature, to think of that time when the hour of our departure is at hand ; when this animal frame shall be dissolved,, and the mysterious bond between soul and body shall be broken. Even the visible effects of mortality are not without terror ; to have no more a name among the living ; to pass into the dominions of the dead ; to have the worm for a companion, and a sister, are events at which nature shudders and starts back. But more awful still is the invisible scene, when the curtain between both worlds shall be drawn back, and the soul naked and disembodied appear in the presence of its Creator. Even under these thoughts, the comforts of Christianity may dehght thy soul. Jesus, thy Saviour, has the keys of death ; the abodes of the dead are part of His kingdom. He lay in the grave, and hallowed it for the repose of the just.- Be- fore our Lord ascended up on high. He said to His disciples, " I go to My Father and to your Father, to My God and to your God ;" and when the time of your departure is at hand, you go to your Father and His Father, to your God and His God. Enlightened by these discoveries, trusting to the merits of his Eedeemer, and animated with the hope which is set before him, the Christian will depart with tranquillity and joy. To him the bed of death will not be a scene of terror, nor the last hour an hour of despair. There is a majesty in the death of the Christian. He par- takes of the spirit of that world to which he is advancing, and he meets his latter end with a face that looks to the heavens. DISCOURSE SIXTY-SECOND. THOMAS M'CKIE, D. D. Theee are few individuals to whose honorable exertions, especially in his beloved coimtry, the cause of religion and of literature is more in- debted than to Dr. M'Crie. Born at Dunse, in Berwickshire, jtSTovember, 1772, educated in a thorough manner at the University of Eduiburg, and at Divinity Hall, he was Hcensed to preach September 9th, 1795, and in the year following was ordained over the church of Potterrow, Edia- burg. His excellent Life of John Ejiox, published in 1811, caused him to be Addely and honorably known ; a reputation increased by several other publications. During the years 1817 and 1818, ui addition to other du- ties, he acted as Theological Professor to the rehgious society with which he was connected, the labors of which he resumed in 1834. He was pre- pariug a hfe of Calvin, when, in the year 1835, August 4th, his valuable labors were aiTCSted by an attack of apoplexy. He died on the following day, in his sixty-thu'd year. Whether estimated by his piety, his talents, or his learning, Dr. M'Crie was one of the brightest ornaments of the Scottish Secession Church. The pubhcations which he has left to the world are nmnerous, and of great value. His hfe of Knox is alone a sufficient monument to his genius and Christian worth. A volume of his '' Sermons, Lectures, etc.," was published several years ago, which ought to be given to the Amer- ican pubhc. No one can peruse the following admirable sennon without coveting the privilege of jDOSsessing more of the productions of the same eloquent pen. The very great length of the discourse renders it neces- sary to omit a few less important paragraphs, chiefly introductory and narrative in their character. THE PEAYER OF THE THIEF ON THE CEOSS. " Lord, remember me when Thou comest into Thy kingdom." — Luke, xxiii. 42. Who can tell what these words convey ? None but He to whom they were addressed ; who saw into the bottom of the speaker's THE PRATER OF THE THIEF ON" THE CROSS. 303 heart, approved of his confession, and answered his petition ex- ceedingly above what he could ask or think ; when He repHed, " Yerilj I say unto thee, To-day shalt thou be with Me in Paradise ?" It was not a time, my brethren, for many words : but oL, how much is expressed by these two short sentences, spoken from such hearts, and in such circumstances I What a colloquy was this! what a communion ! what a respite from torture I what a foretaste of Para- dise ! what a feast on a cross between earth and heaven I There was no opportunity for salutation or embracing, or the exchanging of the symbolical cup. But what an exchange of tender looks ! What a conjunction of hearts I what an intimate friendship on so short an acquaintance I what a joyful farewell before so awful a parting I Think you, my brethren, that either of the twain felt at this mo- ment the nails with which they were transfixed to the tree ? The soul of the penitent thief was filled with a joy unutterable, which must have swallowed up all sense of pain. He rejoiced in the death by which he now glorified God. He gloried on the cross, and " in the cross." True, he was crucified ; but then he was " crucified with Christ," and that in another sense than his unhappy companion was, or than any of the spectators of the scene knew or apprehended. This was to him matter of ineffable gloriation. " Blessed day on which I was overtaken and seized by the pursuviants of justice I Blessed sentence which brought me into the company and acquaint- ance of the Saviour of sinners, of the chief of sinners, and advanced me to the high, the distinguished honor of suffering along with Him." At that moment, too, Jesus rejoiced in spirit. He saw of the travail of his soul, and was satisfied. He felt that He was a conqueror. He had already begun to divide the spoil ravished from principalities and powers, which He made a show of openly triumphing over them on this cross. In the conquest which He had just achieved, He be- held an earnest of His subsequent triumphs over the god of this world, and, exhilarated with the prospect, He "endured the cross, despising the shame." The address of the beheving, penitent malefactor, was, at the same time, a prayer, a confession of faith, and a sermon. But no such prayer had been offered up since "men began to call on the name of the Lord ;" no such confession of faith was ever made by council or assembly of divines ; no such sermon was ever dehvered by the most powerful and eloquent preacher. And then the Saviour's reply I Many a compassionate, benignant, and seasonable answer had He vouchsafed to those who invoked Him, and who professed their faith in Him, but none of them equaled this. Pleased with the confession 304 THOMAS M'CRIE. of ISTatlianael, He said to him, " Thou shalt see the heaven open, and the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man." To Peter He had said, " Blessed art thou, Simon Barjona, for flesh and blood hath not revealed this unto thee, but My Father who is in heaven." To the Syrophenician, " O woman, great is thy faith ; be it unto thee even as thou wilt." To the Eoman centurion, '' I have not found such faith: no, not in Israel." And to His disciples, " Henceforth I will not drink of the fruit of the vine until I drink it new with you in the kingdom of God." But to none of these did He say as imto this poor, converted, crucified thief, '' To-day shalt thou be with me in Paradise." He had made many converts during His personal ministry, when He was a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief But of this man He had made a convert on the cross, in the midst of great agony of body and soul, and therefore He rejoiced in him above all His followers. He was His Benoni, the son of His sorrow, and therefore He made him His Benjamin, the son of His right hand. But let us examine more coolly and attentively this singular ad- dress of the convict on the cross. Let us consider, in the first place, who he was, and the circumstances in which he was placed ; second- ly, the situation in which Jesus was when he addressed Him ; third- ly, the profession of faith which it contains ; and fourthly, the prayer which it expressed. I. Consider the person ivho made the address^ and the circumstances in which he icas j^^aced. He was a thief and a robber — one who, by his own confession, merited the ignominious death which he was suffering. Abandoning the path of honest industry, he had betaken himself to the highway, and procured his livelihood by preying on the property and life of the peaceable. When we consider the char- acter of Barabbas, whom they preferred to Jesus, and the design for which His fellow -sufferers were selected, we may be sure that they were criminals of the worst sort, whose practices had excited general hatred and terror. We all know what the characters of those who have devoted themselves to this mode of living are — hoAv reckless 'of life, how des- titute of principle— how enslaved to every base and malignant pas- sion — how dead to all the feelings of honor, reputation, compassion, or compunction— how insensible to the. remonstrances of conscience, or the lessons of experience — how regardless of God or man — how disposed to mock at every thing that is sacred, at death, judgment, and eter- nity ; you can not point to a class of men from whom you could select an individual less likely to be affected by the scene of the crucifixion THE PRATER OF THE THIEF ON THE CROSS. 805 or to sympathize with the meek, and patient, and forgiving Jesus. The conduct of the thief who reviled Him, and the words which he is represented as having used, are just what we would have expected from such, a person in such circumstances. Matthew and Mark, in their account of the crucifixion, say, " The thieves, also, who were crucified with Him, reviled Him," and " cast the same in His teeth," from which we might conclude that both acted in the same manner when first affixed to the cross, but that one of them underwent a sudden change in his sentiments, which produced a complete altera- tion on his language, and le.d him to justify and pray to the Saviour whom he had a little before reviled and outraged. This is no impossible thing. Transformations as wonderful and as sudden have been effected. Saul of Tarsus was arrested in the midst of his mad career, and he who was " breathing out threaten- ings" against all who called on the name of Jesus of Nazareth, was found the next moment invoking that name of which he had been " a blasphemer," and with the most humble and implicit submission prajdng, "Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do?" The jailor of Philippi is another example. Having found the prison doors open, and supposing that Paul and Silas had escaped, he was in the very act of sheathing his drawn sword in his own bowels, when on a sud- den, on the speaking of a few words, the weapon of destruction dropped from his hands, and the bold and determined suicide hung trembling on the knees of his prisoners, and under a deep concern about the safety, not of his body, but his soul, cried out, *' Sirs, what must I do to be saved?" The same power which was^so visibly exerted in these instances, could have easily purified the fountain of ungodliness in this man's heart at the very moment that the words of bitter derision were flow- ing from his tongue, and made them to be followed by the sweet and salutary streams of blessing and prayer, streaming from a smitten, soft- ened, opened, and sanctified soul. But as the Evangelist Luke gives- the most circumstantial narrative of the extraordinary incident, it is more natural to consider his detail as qualifying and explaining the general statement of his brethren ; and he represents only one of the malefactors as reviling Jesus, and the other as vindicating Him. Nor is it uncommon in Scripture to affirm that of a number of persons or things of the same kind which is true of one of them only. Thus we are told that the ark rested on the mountains of '* Ararat" that is on one of them ; that Lot "dwelt in the cities of the plain," that is in one of them ; that "the soldiers ran and filled a sponge with vinegar," that is one of them did so. In like manner 20 306 THOMAS M'CRIE. we are told, "the thieves railed on Him," that is one of them did it. Although, however, the person mentioned in our text did not join in the blasphemies of his comrade, we have every reason for think- ing that the cross was the place of his conversion ; and that he came to it with no more knowledge of Jesus, and no more love to Him than his fellow had. But while he was suspended on the cross his heart was changed — ^he was convinced of sin, enlightened in the knowledge of the Saviour, who was crucified along with him, hum- bled, sanctified, and made a new man. That the influence by which this was brought about was divine, there can not be a mementos doubt. The only question is — as the Spirit of God does not ordi- narily produce this change on the minds of adults without the inter- vention and use of external means — ^by what instrumentality was this man converted, and how did he attain that knowledge of the truth concerning Christ which he displayed in his address to Him ? When Jesus began to teach in the synagogue of His native place His townsmen were astonished, and exclaimed, ^' Whence hath this man this wisdom ? Is not this the carpenter's son ? Whence then hath He all these things ?" There is reason for putting the same question as to this thief, and under a similar feeling of astonishment. Like others who have followed his unlawful trade, we have every reason to think he was brought up in ignorance and profaneness, and that he was as destitute of religious knowledge as he was of moral honesty. He was too much occupied with his trade to attend on the sermons or witness the miracles of Jesus ; and his exclusion from all sober and decent society, must have prevented him from hearing of them by the report of others. By what means then did he acquire the knowledge of Him ? In his prison he might hear of His arraignment and sentence ; and after he knew that He was to be crucified along with him, curiosity would induce him to inquire into the cause of His condemnation. This might perhaps satisfy him that Jesus was no evil-doer— that He had been guilty of no murder, or theft, or sedition, and that the envy of the chief priests had delivered Him up to Pilate ; and it is probable that his companion also knew aU this, and had the same conviction in his breast, although he railed on Him as an impostor. But it was at Golgotha, find when hanging on the accursed tree that he acquired that knowledge which issued in his conversion. And what were the means of his instruction ? None that I can discover or tell you of, my brethren, but what he was able to glean from the speeches of those who were below, from the few words which Jesus had spoken, and from the inscription on His cross. THE PRAYER OF THE THIEF ON THE CROSS. 307 The first he liad heard saj, " He saved others ;" and who can tell what light this saying might let into an understanding opened by the Spirit of God ? He had also heard them speak of Him, although with incredulity, as " the Christ, the King of Israel, the Son of God, who trusted in God that He would deliver Him." He had heard the remarkable and heart-melting prayer which Jesus offered up for His murderers, when they were in the act of nailing Him to the tree, "Father forgive them; for they know not what they do;" and he had a practical commentary on them in the meekness and patience with which he " endured the cross, despising the shame." And he had an opportunity of reading the inscription which was written over His head in legible characters, in Hebrew, Greek, and Latin, " This is Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews." This, my brethren, was at once the text and the sermon by which the thief was converted : and accordingly the language of his address and prayer is borrowed from it. He believed that He was "Jesus" a Saviour. He believed that He was a "King;" and he believed that His cross was the way to His crown, for it witnessed of it, and it pointed to it. And believing this, and encouraged by it to put his trust in Him, he said, ^' Lord, remember me when Thou comest into Thy kingdom." Think it not strange — at least think it not incredible — that the words of scorn and derision spoken by an infatuated, infuriated mob, should be made the means of so much good to this man's soul. They were truth, saving truth, and con- tained the substance of the Gospel, and of what Jesus had taught concerning Himself. Think it not incredible that the inscription devised by an unbe- lieving and unjust judge, should have been the means of dehvering a criminal, whom he had condemned to an excruciating death, from a doom still more awful. It contained the verv truth which the person to whom it referred had testified when He stood at the bar of Pilate, and it was devised and written at the secret instigation of Him whose " determinate counsel" the Eoman Governor executed in this as well as in other parts of this divinely ordered transaction. Many an excellent, savory, and saving sermon has been preached from the insidious saying of the arch-priest Caiaphas, "It is expe- dient that one man should die for the people, and that the whole whole nation perish not." And why, in that year, and on that day, which was big with the eternal destinies of a world, to which all the prophets and holy men from the beginning had looked forward, and all holy men to the end shall look back, why at such a time should not a pagan magistrate have been made to prophesy as well as a 308 THOMAS M'CRIE. Jewish priest ? And why should not his prophecy have been the means of enlightening the mind of a robber and qualifying him for confessing the dying Eedeemer of sinners, both Jewish and Gentile ? But, my brethren, we are to remember that it is one thing for us to perceive the meaning of this inscription, possessing as we do, the whole New Testament, yea, the whole Bible, as a commentary on it, and having leisure to compare the commentary with the text ; and that it was quite another thing for the thief without any such helps, to decipher its language and extricate its sense: and that, too, while he hung on the cross in a state of exquisite bodily pain. That he should have been able to do this, and by what process of thought he came to the conclusion which he drew, will continue always to be matter of wonder — a monument of the inscrutable wisdom and amazing grace of Him who works by whatever means it pleaseth Him to employ. II. Consider the situation in which Jesus was placed when this man addressed Him in the words of the text. During His personal ministry, the rays of His glory often pierced the vail of His outward humil- iation, so that those that saw its manifestations had all their doubts dissipated, and were assured that He came from God, and was the only-begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth. But this man became acquainted with Him, and beheld Him not at Jordan where heaven pronounced Him its Son ; or, at Cana of Galilee, where He manifested forth His glory ; or by the lake of Tiberias, where He fed the multitude : or in Bethany, where He raised Lazarus : or in Tabor, where He was transfigured : but he beheld Him for the first time at Golgotha, where, instead of speaking as never man spake, He was dumb as a sheep before her shearers, and instead of doing mighty works, was crucified through weakness. At this time His glory was not merely imder a cloud; it was in an eclipse, and seemed to have set never to reappear. It was the hour and power of darkness. Formerly He had been followed by multitudes, who crowded to Him and thronged Him, and when He withdrew they followed Him and sought Him out with great eagerness — the whole world was gone out after Him, and they talked of making Him a king, so that the chief priests became alarmed, and His disciples, seeing matters in so prosperous-like a train, thought it high time to look out for themselves, and to secure the most honorable places in that kiuo- dom which He was about to erect. But this flattering prospect had evanished. The multitude which followed Him for a time had melted away gradually, until He was left alone with the twelve * THE PRATER OF THE THIEF ON THE CROSS. 309 and at last He was forsaken by tTiem also. One of tliem betrayed Him, another abjured Him, and all tlie rest fled and were scattered; and their unfaithful and cowardly desertion had affixed a stigma on His pretensions, which all the malice and misrepresentation of His open adversaries had not been able to inflict. When He was arraigned before the high priest, hopes of His safety still remained : for the Eomans retained the power of life and death in their own hands, and Pilate was not only disposed to let Him go, but labored to accomplish His release. Even after He was condemned to die, the case did not appear desperate : for those who had witnessed His miracles, and seen the band sent to apprehend Him struck to the ground, merely by His saying to them, "I am He" might flatter themselves that His enemies would be unable to carry their sentence into execution. This last hope had proved fal- lacious. He had suffered Himself to be led as a lamb to the slaughter. He was now affixed to the tree and was fast bleeding to death. There He hung between two notorious malefactors, dis- owned by all His former friends, insulted over by His enemies, heaven shut against His prayer, hell gaping for Him as its prey. It was in these circumstances, when the cause of Jesus was in the most desperate-like condition, that this man, openly and for the first time, professed his faith in Him. in. Consider the import of the profession contained in His address. Had he merely professed his belief that Jesus was an innocent man — that He had done nothing amiss or worthy of death, it would have been a great deal. Had he avowed that he thought Him no impostor, but a true prophet, this would have been more than could have been expected, considering the circumstances in which both were placed. How hesitatingly and suspiciously did the two disci- ples, on the road to Emmaus, express themselves on this subject : — "We trusted that it had been He that should have redeemed Israel." But this man went far beyond this point in his profession. He addressed Him as "Lord." The chief priests and rulers of the Jews spoke of Him in the most contemptuous style — " this fellow" and "that deceiver." When Peter was challenged as one of His disci- ples, he said that he knew not " the man." The highest epithet that the disciples could give Him after they had received a report of His resurrection, was, " Jesus of Nazareth, a prophet mighty in word and deed." The thief addresses Him now, by that title which the apostles gave Him, after He had shown Himself to them by infalli- ble proofs. They could say ''the Lord is risen:" but they could 310 THOMAS M'CRIE. not, like this thief, call Him Lord, when He hung on the cross. Nor was this a mere title of respect. The cross was no place for compli- mentary or ceremonious language. In such circumstances he would not have owned Him at all if he had not been persuaded that He was the Lord of all, of life and death, of heaven and hell. And as he addressed Him as Lord, so he avowed his conviction that He was going to take possession of a kingdom. Wonderful faith I A dying man, a worm and no man, reproach of men and despised of the people, the lowest of the people, he addresses as Lord, and worships Him I One whom he had seen arrayed in derision with the mock ensigns of royalty, and then stripped of them and led away to be crucified, whom he had heard taunted with His kingly claims, and in vain desired to come down from the cross to give a proof of their validity, he, nevertheless, saluted, in deep earnest, as a king ; and while God had set up the right hand of His adversaries, made all His enemies to rejoice, shortened the days of His j^outh, covered Him with shame, and profaned His crown by casting it to the ground, he, strong in faith, staggered not, but, against hope, believed in hope, and avowed his confident assurance that He was about to ascend the throne of His kingdom I Yerily, such faith as this had not been evinced from the days of the Father of the faithful. And then how superior do his concep- tions of the nature of Christ's kingdom appear to have been ! The Jews of that time had very gross and carnal notions of the reign of Messiah. They imagined that He would appear as a temporal and earthly monarch, emancipate them from the thralldom of a foreign yoke, and make the nations tributary to them. The disciples of Jesus had imbibed some of these prejudices, to which they clung pertinaciously, in spite of all the instructions of their Master; nor were they altogether weaned from this erroneous and fond conceit by His crucifixion, as appears from the question which they put to Him after He was risen: "Lord, wilt Thou at this time restore the kingdom to Israel?" How superior were the views which the converted thief ac- quired on this subject in a short time, to those of the disciples after they had for years listened to the spiritual doctrine, and contem- plated the heavenly character of their Master I The prospect of His death was repugnant to all their ideas, and destructive of all their expectations of His kingly glory: and when they saw Him led away to be crucified, their hopes died away within them. He owned Him to be a king in the lowest step of His abasement, and believed THE PRATER OP THE THIEP OK" THE CROSS. 311 that His cross was the pedestal by which He would ^ mount to His throne in the highest heavens. TV. Let usj in fine, consider this address as a prayer. It was said of Sanl of Tarsns, after his conversion, and as one mark of that change which he had undergone, " Behold he prayeth I" He had never prayed aright before that period, though, as a strict Pharisee, he had no doubt often practiced the external form. But this was probably the first time that ever the thief had engaged in the exer- cise ; the first time in his life that he had offered to God the sacrifice of the lips ; prayer is not an employment reconcilable with the trade which he had followed. It is necessary for such persons to banish the fear, and consequently to exclude the thought of God. K that sacred name had come into his mouth it would be in the form of helhsh oaths or blasphemies. But now, behold he prayeth ! and that in deep earnest. He prayed to Jesus, whom his fellow-criminal was blaspheming, invoked Him as Lord, and begged of Him the greatest favor which, as a dying man, he could ask. Criminals have often been seen praying on a scaffold, and they have earnestly begged for a pardon, or a respite, or some other boon from their judges : but this is the only instance in which a criminal was found supphcating and praying to his fellow-sufferer. And what was the petition which he presented ? It was not for deliver- ance from death or for any temporal blessing. He did not even se- riously prefer the request of his comrade, " Save Thyself and us." He was perfectly resigned to his fate. He was willing to endure the punishment due to his crime by the laws of God and man, and to expiate, by his own death, the offense which he had done to society, while he who hung beside him expiated the sin which he had com- mitted against heaven. Lord ! I have no desire to live. It is good for me to be here. It is better for me to die with Thee than to reign with Caesar. All my desire is to be with Thee where Thou art going ; and remember Thy unworthy feUow-sufferer when thou art come into Thy kingdom ! What unfeigned and contrite humility does this petition breathe I He prays as became one who felt, and had confessed himself to be a great sinner, and who could have no possible claims but what were founded on the mere and unbought benignity of Him whom he ad- dressed. When the two sons of Zebedee requested to be permitted to sit, the one at the right -and the other at the left hand of their Master in His kingdom, He asked them, " Can ye drink of the cup that I drink of? or can ye be baptized with the baptism with which I am baptized?" Here was one who was drinking of his bitter 312 THOMAS M'CRIE. cup, and baptized with His bloody baptism ; but be had no such ambitious wish, and presumed to present no such arrogant request. His heart was not haughty : his eyes were not lofty : neither did he aspire to great things. A genuine convert, his heart was like that of a weaned child. All that he ventured to ask was, that Jesus would remember him when He came into His kingdom. But though presented with the profoundest humility, and expressive of the greatest submission, still this was a great request. how much, my brethren, is included in these two words, ad- dressed by a convinced sinner to the Saviour, " remember me /" The eternal salvation of a sinner hangs upon them. If He remem- bers him, all is well ; if He forgets him, woe unto him, for it shall be ill with him. Had not Christ remembered and thought upon us in our low estate, and undertaken our cause, we would have been hope- less. Had He not remembered His people, and borne their names on His breastplate, when He approached God as the Great High Priest to make reconciliation for iniquity, their guilt would have re- mained. Did He not remember them, when they are lying pol- luted in their blood, and say to them, " Live !" they would die in their sins. Did He not continue to remember them, and pray for them, and help them by His Spirit, he that desires to have them for his prc}^ would gain his object, and they would never see the king- dom of heaven. Had the penitent thief dropped out of the memory of Christ, he would have dropped into hell at death, along with his blaspheming companion: for, "Nor thieves nor revilers shall inherit the kingdom of God." How could he. an ignorant, lawless, God- despising, heaven-daring profligate, presume to lift up his eyes, or to apply at the gates of paradise, unless he had ground to believe that his gracious and merciful fellow-sufferer would remember him? But if he continued to think of Him and own Him, what might he not exj)ect ? In fine, this prayer was offered believingly, as well as fervently. He believed that Jesus had the highest interest with the Father, who would not refuse any thing which should be craved by Him, who had laid down His life at His command ; that He was about to be put in possession of all power in heaven and earth ; and that this included authority to bestow its honors and rewards on whomsoever He would. And he believed that such was the grace, condescension and compassion of the dying Redeemer, that He would not reject the apphcation of a poor, convicted, condemned criminal, but wash him from his sins in His blood, and sanctify him by the power of His Spu-it, and present him faultless before the throne of His o-bry THE PRATER OF THE THIEF ON THE GROSS. 313 witli exceeding joy. Nor did he believe in vain, nor was the answer of his prayer long delayed or dubiously expressed ; for Jesus in- stantly said to him, " Yerily, I say unto thee, to-day shalt thou be with Me in paradise." In reviewing this wonderful scene, a variety of reflections, all conducive to practical improvement, crowd upon the mind. Let us dwell a little on a few of them. First. "We have here an indisputable instance of real conversion. Examples of this change have occurred in every age, as to the gen- uineness of which we have no reasonable ground to doubt. But the case of the penitent thief is accompanied with evidence the most ir- resistible and convincing. Who can doubt that on the cross a sin- ner was converted from the evil of his ways, a soul saved from death, and a multitude of sins hid ? When the Lord writeth up the people whom He hath formed for Himself, He will count that this man was born again on Calvary. While I run. over the credible marks of a saving change which he exhibited, let it be your employment, my brethren, to examine and see whether they are to be found in you also. He confessed himself to be a sinner and worthy of death, when no creature exacted this confession, and when it could be of no earthly advantage to him. His heart was penetrated with a reveren- tial fear of God, which made him not only refrain from offending Him himself, but shudder at hearing what was offensive to Him from the lips of another. He entertained just, and high, and honorable views of the Saviour. He looked to Him on the cross, and placed all his hopes of salvation on His merciful remembrance of him. He prayed to Him, and committed his soul to Him as the Lord of the invisible world. He gave every evidence which was in his power of the truth of his faith, repentance, and love. His hands and feet were immovably fixed to the tree. Nothing was left free to him but his heart and his tongue, and these he dedicated wholly to God, and employed to the honor of Christ. His conduct corre- sponded to the inspired criterion, and verified it: ^'With the heart man believeth unto righteousness, and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation." He not only deplored his own, but he also faithfully, yet meekly, reproved the sin of his companion, and of the multitude which sur- rounded him, and used all the means which were in his power to aiTest their ungodly career, and to bring them to repentance. He was clothed with humility. His affections were set on things above, and not on things on the earth. His conversation was in heaven. No corrupt communication proceeded from his mouthy but that which 314 THOMAS M'CEIE. was good to the use of edifying. All bitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamor, and evil-speaking he put away from him with all malice ; he was kind, tender-hearted, forgiving ; and was not this a proof that God, for Christ's sake, had forgiven him ? Who imagines that if this man had been let down from the cross he would have returned to his old companions and his old practices ? — who doubts that he that stole would have stolen no more, but have wrought with his hands that he might give to him that needeth ; that he would have been a bright and living example of renovation ; that he would have joined himself to the apostles, and continued stead- fastly in their doctrine and fellowship, and in breaking of bread, and in prayer ? Would to God that all that hear me this day were both almost and altogether such as this malefactor was, except the nails by which he was affixed to the tree 1 Secondly. We have here a distinguished proof of the power of Divine grace. Speaking of what he had been, and contrasting it with what he had become, Paul exclaims, "• The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ was exceeding abundant !" We can not think of the conversion of this man without making the same reflection. He had been a great sinner, an ignorant, profane, ungodly, lawless, hardened ruf&an. But ! how changed from what he was ! so much so that his former associates, who had known him most intimately, could not now know him to be the same person. He is, indeed, become a new man, a new creature : '' Old things are passed away, behold all things are become new." The lion, who had gone about seeking whom he might devour, is changed into the lamb ; the blasphemer into a preacher of righteousness ; the robber into a reprover of vice. And how sudden the transformation ! He came to the cross with all the evil passions rankling in his breast, and he had scarcely been affixed to it, when their poison was plucked out, and they gave place to mildness, gentleness, and compassion for the sufferings of others. He came to it with his mouth filled with cursing and bitterness, and when upon it, we find him employed only in praying and exhorting. He was lifted up on the cross polluted with the blood of others, he was taken down from it washed from his sins in the blood of Christ. He was suspended as a malefactor, and he died as a martyr. What can withstand or resist the power of the grace which pro- duced such a change as this ? What is too hard, what can be diffi- cult for it? It can pardon the greatest sins, subdue the strono-est corruptions, eradicate the most deep-rooted prejudices, cure the most THE PRATER OP THE THIEF ON THE CROSS. 315 inveterate habits ; in a word, change the most desperately wicked heart. TJiirdly. Contemplate in this scene an instance of late conversion. It was the last hour with this malefactor. His days were numbered, and the last of them had dawned on him in as hopeless a condition as ever — with all his sins upon him, unrepented of and unpardoned, without the smallest preparation for appearing before his righteous and impartial judge. He was brought out of his cell, he was led away to be crucified, he was lifted upon the cross, he hung over the yawning pit which was ready to receive him, when the Saviour, who was at his right hand, had comioassion on him, apprehended him by His grace, and plucked him as a brand from the fire. Miraculous escape ! Wonderful intervention I Ineffable expression of the pa- tience and mercy of Him who is God and not man I In one and the same day this man was in the gall of bitterness, and in the delights of paradise ; associated with felons, and admitted into the society of angels ; in concord with Belial, and in fellowship with Christ. This singular fact is recorded in Scripture ; and we know that whatever was written aforetime, was written for our learning. It teaches us by example what our Saviour taught by parable, that persons may be called into God's vineyard at the last hour, and that He will bestow upon them the gift of eternal life through Jesus Christ, as well as upon those who have borne the burden and heat of the day. And shall their eye be evil because He is good ? Or shall we be ashamed or afraid to produce this example, and to point to the encouragement which it holds out because some will speak evil of the good ways of God, or others will abuse His tender mercy to their own perdition ? No ! while there is life there is hope — ■ while sinners are on God's footstool they may look up to the throne of His grace. He waits to be gracious, His long-suffering is salva- tion. This message we are warranted to carry into the cell of the convict — to the bedside of the dying profligate — and to proclaim it in public to persons of all ages. The most hoary-headed sinner in this assembly may find mercy of the Lord. Though thou hast provoked God and grieved Him for forty, fifty, sixty, seventy, fourscore years, yet to-day, if thou wilt hear His voice, and harden not your heart, thou shalt enter into His rest, and be received into His glory. You need not say, '^ Who shall ascend into heaven to bring Christ down?" He who was near to the thief on the cross, is near to you in the preaching of the cross. 0, then, delay not to improve the precious season which will not last long, which passeth away, and will soon come to a close I Look to 316 THOMAS M'CRIE. Him, believe on Him, cry to Him, confessing your sins, *' Lord, remember me, now wben Thou art come into Thy kingdom." Look on Him whom you have pierced by your iniquities, until your hearts are smitten with the sight, and you are made to mourn as for an only son, and to be in bitterness as for a first-born ; and He wiU heal you by the virtue of His stripes, and by the sovereign efficacy of His free spirit. But this example, while it invites to repentance, gives no encour- agement to presumption. It has been justly remarked that one in- stance of conversion at the latest period of life has been recorded in the Bible, that none may despair, and hut one instance, that none may presume, or delay this important work to the last. Not to insist on the singularity of this man's situation, and the propriety of the Eedeemer's displaying the power of His grace, and the virtue of His blood when hanging on the cross by a signal and extraordinary act of mercy, the history of the converted malefactor affords not a shadow of encouragement or excuse to those who resist the calls of the Gospel, and procrastinate repentance ; for he had not enjoyed those calls, nor is there any good reason for thinking that he ever heard or saw the Saviour before. It is sioful to limit the holy One, and to despair of His mercy and aliility to save, in the most extreme case ; but it is awfully sinful, it is a learful tempting and provoking of the Most High, to delay repentance in the hope of finding mercy at a future period. "When put into ])lain language it just amounts to this, " I will continue in sin because the grace of God abounds. I will go on to disobey Him, and rebel against Him, and affront Him, in the confidence that He will pardon me whenever I shall be pleased to turn to Him, and that He will receive me when I am weary of sinning, and can no longer find pleasure in it." If this is not to '^sin willfully, after having received the knowl- edge of the truth" — if it is not to " sin the sin unto death," it is some- thing very like it. What can such persons expect but that God will pronounce against them His fearful oath of exclusion, cease to strive with them any longer by His Spirit, say to the ministers of His wofd and of His providence '^ Let them alone," and give them up to the uncontrolled operation of their own corruptions, increased and aggra- vated by iudulgence, and by the influence of the god of this world. How know you that you shall have time for repentance ? You may be struck dead in a single moment, in the very act of sinning with a high hand. Or you may be struck motionless and senseless, without a tongue to confess your sins, or your faith in the Saviour — without THE PRATER OP THE THIEF ON THE CROSS. 817 an eye to read the record of salvation — without an ear to hear its gladdening sounds from preacher or friend — without a memory to recollect what you have heard or known of it. Although time for reflection should be granted you, and though the gate of mercy should stand open before you, yet your soul may be so filled with darkness, and unbelief, and remorse that you can not perceive the way of escape, and may die, like Judas, in despair. Though quaintly expressed, there is much truth in the saying, " True repentance is never too late, but late repentance is seldom true." How many instances are there of "repentance" in sickness, and in the prospect of death being " repented of" Judicious persons who have had occasion to deal with the irreligious in such circum- stances, have a saddening report to make of the result of their expe- rience. How many of them have died as they have lived, ignorant, insensible, hardened. Of those who survived, and were delivered from the terrors of death, how many ''returned, like the sow that was washed, to her wallowing in the mire !" And among those who died with the accents of penitence on their lips, of how few can they speak, but in the language of trembling hope ! We often hear of the contrition of condemned malefactors, and it is not uncommon to represent them as having exhibited decided marks of conversion in their cells and on the scaffold : but there is reason to think that credulity is mingled with charity in these reports. Charity should dispose us to form the most favorable hopes of individuals, but when we speak on this subject, and especially when we make our sentiments pubhc, we should recollect that char- ity for the dead may be cruelty to the living. K such persons were to be pardoned and restored to life, we may judge what would be the result with multitudes of them, from what we see in the case of those who have been recovered from a dangerous sickness. How rarely do we meet, in such cases, with the unequivocal proofs of sin- cere repentance which were evinced in the crucified malefactor ! Fourthly. See here a striking example of the different effects pro- duced by the preaching of Christ crucified. To the one malefactor the cross was the savor of life unto life, to the other it was the savor of death unto death ; to the former it was the power of God unto salvation, to the latter it was a stumbling-block ; it softened the heart of the former, it hardened the heart of the latter ; it prepared the one for heaven, it rendered the other twofold more a child of hell. Here we perceive the exceeding riches of sovereign grace, and the desperate depravity of the human heart when left to its native ope- ration. 318 THOMAS M'CRIE. the blindness, the infatuation, the obduracy of this impenitent malefactor, whom neither the reproofs and contrition of his com- panion, nor the meekness and patience of Jesus, nor the acts of clemency and grace which he witnessed, could soften I He saw the rich treasures of grace opened ; he heard the humble petition of his comrade; he heard the gracious return made to it, granting him more than he had ventured to ask ; he was a witness to the king- dom of heaven being bestowed on a fellow-convict : — and yet He remained proud and impenitent, and would not bend his mind to ask what he might have freely received. Yet this is no strange or uncommon thing; it is every day verified in multitudes who enjoy the Gospel. Fifthly. How mysterious and manifold the ways by which God imparts the knowledge of His mind to men — makes those that are blind to see, and those that see, to be blind [ -^ * ■^- The inscription which a heathen ruler ordered to be affixed to the cross, and which he refused to recall or to modify, because the instrument of savingly enlightening an ignorant malefactor, and enabling him to silence and still the increasing tumult of those who maliciously or ignorantly reviled the Holy One and the Just. 0, the depth of the riches, both of the wisdom and knowledge of God I SixlliJy. What a small portion of truth will be of saving benefit to a person when accompanied by the blessing of the Divine Spirit I "Who teaclieth like God ! When the vision of all is to the learned as a sealed book, and the eyes of the prophets and their rulers and seers are covered. He can unvail its mysteries to the most ignorant and uninitiated. By means of a few words He can make the out- casts of society wise to salvation, while those who despised and cursed them have ''precept upon precept, line upon line, here a ht- tie and there a little," and yet all the effect is that they ''fall back- ward, and are broken, and snared and taken." What slender means will prove successful when God puts His hand to the work ! What a small portion of truth will irradiate the mind of a sin- ner, and dispel its darkness, when the Spirit of God makes way for it, and accompanies it home with His secret and irresistible in- fluence ! DISCOURSE SIXTY.THIRD. THOMAS CHALMERS, D.D. Dr. Chajlmers was bora at Anstrutliers, near St. Andrews, in the year 1780. He showed in early Hfe signs of great powers; and was soundly educated in the Univei-sity of St. Andrews, where he won for himself distinguished honors in hterature and the physical sciences. At the early age of twenty-three he was ordained ; his first settlement being at Cavers, from which place he removed to Kilmany. It is well known that at'the time of his ordiuation he had not experienced the ti'ansfoiTuing power of the Divine Spirit. He was awakened to his need of the saving knowledge of God, by the investigations which he made in the " E\ddences of Christianity," in preparing an article on that subject for the "Edinburg Encyclopedia;" and was thenceforward a new man. In 1815, Dr. Chahners settled at Glasgow; and in 1824 he became Professor of Moral Philosophy in the University of St. An- drews. Four years later he came to the chair of Theology in Edinburg University. Chahners was foremost among the founders of the Free Church of Scotland, who went out of the establishment in 1843, to secure for their country the " Crown Rights of Jesus Christ." He after- ward became Professor of Theology to the seceding body. Undunmed as to his energies by toil and age, he labored on in the Master's cause until the night of the 30th of May, 1847 ; when, after his usual Sabbath duties, he retu'ed to rest with his writing materials at his side, to resume his studies lq the morning ; but died iu his bed, as is supposed of a dis- ease of the heart It is needless to speak of Chalmers's unsurpassed pulpit ability, of the exhaustless wealth of his many productions upon morals, theology, and rehgion, and the rich legacy which he has left to the ministry and the churches, in his learned and eloquent sermons and discourses. Ample justice is done to these various subjects in the admirable Memoirs by Dr. Hanna. Chahners is described as having been of about middle height, thick-set and brawny, but not corpulent, ^dth a face rather broad, high cheek bones, pale and care-wora, eyes of a leaden color, nose broad and lion-like, mouth exceedingly expressive, and a forehead ample and high, covered, in advanced life, with thin, straggling gray hair. 820 THOMAS CHALMERS. An ardent admirer of this great divine has given the following eloquent and life-like picture of his j^reaching : "His discourses resemble mountain torrents, dashing in strength and Ix-auty, amid rocks and woods, carrying every thing before them, and gathering, force as they leap and foam from point to point in their j)rogress to the sea. Calm and even sluggish in his appearance when at rest, he was on fire when fauiy roused ; and at times, raising himself up in his pulpit, vnih hand outstretched and burning eye, seemed as if he were inspired. A true Son of Thunder, he swept the minds of his hear- ers, as the tempest sweeps the ocean, calling forth its world of waves from their inmost depths, and filUng the firmament above with its far- resounding roar. In his fiimily and among his friends, he was ' gentle as the dew fiom heaven,' but in the pulpit, and especially when defend- ing * the Covenant and Cro^m Rights of Emmanuel,' he was as a stonn amid the hills of his native land. With a majesty of thought and vehemence of manner perfectly irresistible, he swept every thmg before him, and left his hearers with no power but that of admii'ation or sur- prise."* It is a frequent remark that one would not have supposed him pos- sessc