m - OF THE Theological Seminary, PRINCETON, N. J. BV A500 .MA2 1825 Mead, Matthew, 1630?- The almost Christian discovered. Or, The -1699. false SELECT CHRISTIAN AUTHORS, WITH INTRODUCTORY ESSAYS. 27 ■Wiliiam Heaih Vrax Then A,a;-i-ippa saidxmto Paul, Almost thoxv persuadest me to ie a Christian. ACTS.XXVI.VCS, PUBLISHED BY CHALMER.S i- COLLIJ^TS, GLASGOW, THE ALMOST CHRISTIAN DISCOVERED; OR, THE FALSE PROFESSOR TRIED AND CAST. BY THE REV. MATTHEW MEAD. WITH AN INTRODUCTORY ESSAY, BY THE REV. DAVID YOUNG, GLASGOW; PRINTED FOR CHALMERS AND COLLINS; WILLIAM WHYTE & CO. AND WILLIAM OLIPHANT, EDINBURGH; R. M. TIMS, AND WM. CURRY, JUN. & CO. DUBLIN; AND G. B. WHITTAKER, LONDON. 1825. Printed by W. Collins & Co. Glasgow. INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. It is a very possible thing for a man to talk about Christian experience, till he has talked himself out of every thing like sober thought, or tem- perate feeling. Forgetting the weightier bearings of his subject, the severe discipline which it incul- cates, and the progressive refinement of the moral principle to which it tends, he may work himself into the delusion that the whole of it is comprised in present sensible enjoyment. In this state of mind, he may find no difficulty in hiding himself under the still grosser delusion, that the revelation of mercy through Jesus Christ, has simply for its object the production of happiness, without any particular concern about the moral condition of its subjects. He may bring himself to applaud Chris- tianity, not because it yields an adequate atonement to the offended Majesty of Heaven, and " crucifies the flesh with the affections and lusts," but because it furnishes him, or is supposed to furnish him, with the means of immediate gratification. On this topic he may expatiate incessantly, to the neglect of every thing higher or collateral, till it is found VI that he has nothing to think about, or talk about, or supplicate, or extol in the whole range of Chris- tian exercise, or Christian ordinance, but his suc- cesses or reverses in the pursuit of pleasurable emotion. This line of conduct may be marked withal by a penury of thought, an incoherence of mind, a sickening sameness of sound and sentiment, and an imposing whine of ostentatious piety, which make it quite apparent that what he means hy plea- surable emotion is not the fruit of that genuine en- richment of intellect, and healthful exhilarations of heart, which comes forth as a consequence from subjection to the gospel, but the shallow illusion of a distempered imagination. All this may prevail and multiply, showing itself in the most disgusting deformity, and meriting the keenest sarcasm with which unoodliness has ever assailed it; but it is no proof whatever, that Christian experience is, in it- self, a thing to be despised. There may be cant associated with any thing which interests the heart of man, from the play-thing of his childhood to the gravest pursuit of his ripened years: and to discard the culture, or the develop- ment, or the guardianship of those specific im- pressions which Christianity engraves on the hearts of its subjects, because they have been leagued with absurdity, or hackneyed in the jargon of fools, would be to adopt a principle which goes to the sub- version of all confidence in human aflPairs — a pretext which would never be thought of but for a deep and deadly dislike to the spirit of Christianity itself. Instead of being an argument for discouraging such Vll impressions, or slighting the means of promoting them, that they are often rendered ridiculous, or carried out into extravagance, it argues the very reverse; for affectation, in all cases, supposes ex- cellence in that on which it fixes; and were there not an intrinsic worth in the experiences of the Christian — were there not an abiding reality in that new order of things, which it establishes within him, the forms of distortion into which they are thrown, or the offensive mimicries which flutter around them, would speedily disappear. It is the existence of the genuine which gives currency to the spurious in any department; and, so far from allowing the latter to generate dislike at the former in the department of Christianity, it is the duty of every man who is the friend of practical piety, to increase his solicitude about it on this very ac- count. Thus much is required of him, in common justice to the subject itself; and, on this ground alone, he ought to feel himself interdicted from either joining the fellowship, or giving in to the sophistries of those who hold it in derision. Every thing else which is capable of touching the heart of man, is found to yield its experiences. To say nothing of the sciences or arts, or the fascinations of taste, or the varied kinds of innocent recreation, there is not an instance of forbidden indulgence, from the most excusable to the most debasing, but has its chambers of imagery within its votary, and in- variably renders him familiar with its own specific sensations ; and, surely, it were strange if Chris- Vlll tianity, which is fraught with an efficacy so thoroughly influential, were an exception to the general rule. But we have more to do here than to speak of what is due to the claims of the subject. This is a matter of personal interest to every man who prefers alliance with the Christian brotherhood, or hopes to share in their heritage, either present or to come. The possession of Christian principle, deep in its influence, and defined in its operation, is essential to the production, or the keeping alive of a warranted hope of immortality. The man who possesses such an experience, and preserves it in vigour, is refreshed with a well-spring of perennial joy, while the man who possesses it not, must either be the dupe of delusion, or the victim of constant alarm. To be in the former state of mind is to be shielded against all the calamities of the present precarious existence, and prepared to meet them with unshaken fortitude; but, to be in the latter, is to be exposed to all the miseries, and enveloped in all the gloom of infatuation or suspense. But to sustain the ascendency of Christian principle, to cherish its influence, and give way to its control, however desirable a thing in itself, or however well entitled to eager and continued exertion, is found to be very difficult by all who make the attempt. Christianity in hearts like ours, is not a plant of native growth. In its grand essential principles it is an exotic, transferred from a region of kindliness to one that is bleak and sterile, where the soil in which it is inserted, and the moral atmosphere which hovers over it, are alike at variance with its IX well-being. True, indeed, there is this peculiarity about it, that wlienever it takes root it remains, and can never altogether lose its vitality, but holds on its way, and rises to maturity in defiance of all resistance. The cause of this, however, is not in the soil; for so much has it been loosened and deadened by the wintry influence of ungodliness, that its tendency is not to cherish, but to heave out the seed of the word, as a thing uncongenial to its nature. Nor is it in Christianity itself as a thing absolutely indestruc- tible, but imparted by the sovereign will of him from whom it comes, and who has chosen to give it perpetuity by the special forthgoings of his quickening spirit. But, while it is true that Chris- tianity abides with the man to whom it comes, it is equally true, that it often abides with him in much weakness, and, instead of giving forth the decided indications of its residence, it is put under a de- pression which renders it next to impossible to dis- tinguish between the genuine Christian, and the nominal professor. The fascinations of pleasure, the power of local prejudice, the example of tem- porizing professors, the gale of this world's pros- perity, or the storm of its adversity, all superin- tended, and kept in motion by the agency of fallen spirits, are a few of the adverse elements which contribute to this effect. But to specify them in full enumeration, is beyond the power of man, for they are manifold as the creations of the human fancy, assuming different aspects, and forming them- selves into different modifications in the case of every individual, and under every new arrangement A 3 of circumstances in which that individual is placed. So perilous is the lot of the Christian, and so artful, assiduous, and multiform, is the resistance which as- sails him, in the present penury of his resources and distance from his home. But that which arms the adversary with almost all his power, is the state of the Christian's heart. When the field of the husbandman is rich and fer- tile, cultivated to his mind, and suited to the nature of the seed which he casts into it, he has reason to hope that, though assailed by a considerable incle- mency of season, his crop may hold on to an average harvest. But if the soil be such as to conspire with such untowardness, instead of counteracting it, he relinquishes all hope, and awaits a harvest of sorrow, in the place of joy and gladness. The analogy holds, nay, increases in force, in application to the case before us. The moral elements around the Christian may be what they will, in point of power or tendency, to wither his graces; but they are nothing to him as instruments of injury, till they come into alliance with the affections of his heart. No man is the worse for being simply exposed to temptation, nor could such an exposure involve him in the slightest moral injury, were every thing trust- worthy in the citadel within him; for it is not in his power to commit sin, except in as far as he is snared into the love of sin. The heart is the man, for all moral purposes; and good or evil he cannot be till he has made choice of the one or the other, as that which his heart desires. It is a matter of course, then, that, were there a principle of thorough-going XI resistance within the man, the temptations which assail him from without would he reduced to abso- lute impotency. They might annoy him, perhaps, by their unsightly forms, or make him shrink within himself witii horror at their atrocities, or induce him to regret that his dwelling is so near to the taber- nacles of sin ; but their direct transitive malignity would be completely neutralized. Is it so, however, that this is a mere speculation, totally out of keeping with existing facts ? Is the spirit of temptation most potent and effective, as well as subtle, and active, and prevalent, among the chil- dren of our people ? Do we see the trophies of its victories rising up around us in frequent, and dis- mal, and ominous succession, and find it feasting it- self even to riot on the spoils of virtue and godliness? Has it invaded even the righteous, in every corner of the land, to the wounding of their spirits, the blight- ing of their goodiiness, and the desecration of their holy profession, while it holds the mastery undis- puted over the children of this world ? That such is the manner of its working, and the mighty extent of its devastations, is too notorious to admit of denial by any man who knows himself, or is acquainted with living society. But if so, how powerful an il- lustration is thus given of the evil bias of the human heart ! We fall, not because we are tempted, but because of a most inveterate affinity between the spirit of the temptation and our own prevailing pro- pensities; and if this be the root of the evil, what emphasis does it give to the inspired injunction, " Keep thy heart above all keeping; for out of it are the issues of life 1" Xll It was said above, that by compliance with temp- tation, a man's Christianity may be so depres- sed as to render it impossible for mortals, at least, to trace the distinction between him and the nominal professor. Nor, we are afraid, is it any breach of charity to suppose, that such a state of things is oft- en to be met with even among good men. But this surely is a tremendous visitation to an heir of immortahty. It is equal to an extinction, for the time being, of all his hopes. Our faith in any thing is sustamed by evidence, as well as produced by evidence, and if the evidence of our Christianity has been suffered to disappear, our hope of immor- tality must perish along with it. A Christian in such circumstances may cling to his reminiscences, in default of his present consciousness, he may try to bring back to his relief the emotions or contem- plations, or transports, which once gladdened him for a little, and then passed away : but to confide in these, amidst present deficiencies, is at best pre- carious, and to apply them as an opiate to present fears or convictions, is dangerous in the extreme. When a man lias lost the tone of mind which the Scriptures designate spiritual, by falling back un- der the ascendancy of secular affections, and when such a state of things continues, to the rapid de- terioration of his internal character, there is no re- membrance of better days, however vivid or fondly cherished, which can yield him a warranted satisfac- tion. A present propensity to evil, indulged, obeyed, and gratified, till it has produced a broad and palpa- ble, although, perhaps, a disguised conformity to XIU this world, is as forcible a testimony to ungodliness, as its opposite can be to saintship. We may view tbem, at least in practice, as quite in parity ; but in the case before us, the latter has this disadvan- tage, that it has passed away, and is available only as a matter of recollection, while the former is pre- sently felt as a matter of undoubted consciousness. We are aware, that however far a genuine Chris- tian may depart from his God, there will be a por- tion of spirituality working within him, and that if this could be felt by him even in his deepest depravities, it might, at least, modify, if not neutralize the other indications, however dark or ominous they may have become. But we are speaking at present of cases in which, happily for him, it cannot be felt, but is altogether hid from his view ; and in such cases we maintain, that existing facts, and these alone, ought to influence his belief and practice; for what- ever the reality may be as to his state before God, that reality is placed, for the time, by his own mis- doings, under a moral concealment. He cannot see it by intuition as a pure abstraction, for this is the province of his God, which it would be impious to in- vade, although an invasion of it were practicable. To him it is never illumined, and never visible, except in the light of moral evidence opening from his heart, and displaying itself in his conduct; and be what he may, in point of fact, whenever this evidence is lost, the continuity of his spiritual being as a matter of con- sciousness to himself is broken up, he is thrust back on the incipiency of the subject, and it is neither Scriptural, nor reasonable, nor desirable, to expect. XIV that he can ever " come to himself,'* except by an immediate and wakeful return to those specific Christian exercises which, at first, made him to dif- fer, and which God has ordained for his relief. While it is true, therefore, that when a man is born of God, his seed remaineth in him, and can neither be eradicated nor made to die by any possible dis- aster, it is still to be remembered that we are evinced, and only evinced to be the subjects of this seed, " if we hold ftist the confidence and the rejoicing of the hope firm unto the end." The doctrine of per- severance is at once a practical and comfortable doc- trine, but the man who can recur to it as a palliative for irreligion, averts it from its practical tendency, and turns it into a minister of sin — a perversion so impious and so fearfully injurious, that the slightest approximation to it in any one instance ought to produce alarm. Is it so then that a Christian may approach so nearly to a level with the more reputable of the un- converted, as to obliterate from his view the line of demarcation between his character and theirs, and to merge him over again so far as he can see in the general mass of unsanctified human nature ? May a calamity so awful commence its inroads so easily, and steal in upon his mind by a process so slow and imperceptible, as to accomplish its purpose ere ever he is aware? Are its tendencies so disastrous as to provoke his God, to obstruct his usefulness, and to toss him back upon the ocean of uncertainty, after he was approaching the haven of repose, while mul- titudes, it may be, by his pestilent example, are lulled XV into a stupor which shall only end in eternal wo? Is the placidity of our times withal so favourable to its encroachments, while the general spirit of Chris- tians among us is so sickly and listless, and prone to temporize, as to constrain the apprehension that its deadening influence is abroad in the Church ? — Then surely it becomes us all to take this matter se- riously to heart, to rise above the common-places of our dull and monotonous piety, to resist tlie insi- dious approach of that bondage, which, although so silken in its touch, and so easily worn, is yet so fa- tal in its results, and to stand off from the world, that we may exult in the liberty, and put forth the nerve of Zion's free-born men. To this altitude, however, we cannot rise, except on the energies of our religion, and our religion it- self can neither give us propensity to rise, nor power to disengage ourselves, nor fortitude to make the at- tempt, except in so far as it is within us as a matter of experience, imbibed in its spirit, felt in its efficacy, digested in its heavenly nourishment, and obeyed in its paramount authority. We speak not of expe- rience, as a quiescent mood of mind, nor as a busi- ness of monastic retirement, consisting in visions and contemplations, which sicken the brain, and pa- ralyze the faculties, and either evanish in silence, or are expended in social colloquy, but we speak of it as that inward concoction of Christian principle into Christian feeling, which imbues and invigorates the soul, supplying it at once with power and propen- sity for discharging the duties of the Christian life. We speak of it, in short, as a clear conception of XVI Christian principle, seen in its own light, and resting on its own foundation, derived in its purity from the word of God, freed from secular alliance, and se- cular commixture, and telling upon the soul, in its every faculty, to the decided formation of the Chris- tian man. This is what we want, and it must be honestly affirmed in the face of all our bluster, and all our boasted munificence, and all our increasing tendency to social good nature, that nothing short of this in large and speedy accession, can bring back the characters of the present race of professing men to a conformity with their pretensions. We are gliding on right pleasantly, with many an attractive in the scenery around us which former and hardier voyagers were not allowed to see, but the question is, are we keeping our course ? Are we merely out on an excursion of pleasure, or are we steering di- rect to the distant haven, which our profession says we desire to see ? If there be really cause for this inquir)^, and if a deeper feeling of the power of our religion be the only thing which can enable us to meet it with a sa- tisfactory reply, it is natural to ask what is to be done? The fountain of our resources is with our God, but the means of drawing from that fountain are with us, and as he has sanctioned the means as well as opened the fountain, it would be impious to expect supply in any other way, than by an indus- trious Christian use of these means. Ignorance of what they are, however, or of the necessity of using them, is not the prevailing cause of the existing ma- lady. There is an orthodox admission of the truth XVll on these points, which requires little rectification in respect of doctrine : but the orthodoxy, however correct in speculation, is dry, and negative, and in- efficient, in point of practice, and we know of no- thing which is better fitted to disturb its neutrality, and arouse it into life and action throughout the whole circle of Christian duty, than the awakening of a spirit of jealousy among professors of religion — a jealousy, however, not of that selfish kind, which renders Christians suspicious of each other, as if they were rival candidates for a solitary prize, which if gained by one must be lost to all besides — nor of that censorious kind in which a man is so occupied in the detection, and exposure, and reprehension of other men's delinquencies as to have little time, and less desire to think about his own — nor of that dis- trustful kind in which a man enervates his soul by looking on the promises of grace, and the predictions of glory only as a cluster of interesting probabilities, which may be verified, or may not, but present not that solidity to his view, nor abiding claim upon his heart, which can arrest his thoughts, or call forth his religious aspirings — nor of that desponding kind in which a man distresses his soul by brooding in- cessantly over the contrast between the sublime of Christian requirement, and the deplorable depth of human impotency, forgetting in the fever of his musings, that the supplies of our religion are as abundant as its demands are broad and inflexible, and fretting himself even to despair, under the very meridian of encouragement and hope. In such jealousies as these there is no Christianity, and by XVlll either or all of them, a man may be actuated till they have consumed him, without gaining any thing but misery to himself, and the cordial avoidance of all who know him. But what we would recommend is the jealousy which the men of the world exemplify, when they feel themselves embarked on an enterprize which is momentous in its results, critical in its managements, and subject to many casualties in its progress to ma- turity. In such cases, their very souls are identified with their purpose. They are all scrutiny, and cir- cumspection, allowing no incident to disconcert them, nor any crisis to escape them, till the desire of their hearts is accomplished, or if in any of them it be otherwise, his discomfiture is predicted, and it usually comes to pass. They are " wise after their genera- tion." They act like men, were their aim but man- ly, and in the tact of their operations, the man of religious profession may see a similitude of what he ought to be. Is he not embarked on an enterprize of the highest possible moment for time, and for all futurity ? Is not the very possibility of frustration enough to cover him with dismay ? Has he not to work out his salvation amidst obstructions and coun- teractions the most subtle and insidious ? He has, and yet the want of this spirit-stirring element what- soever be its name, which is so potent and so well ap. plied among sublunary men, is paralyzing his efforts in thousands of instances, and spreading a shadow of death over all his movements. He is at his ease, he doubts not but the current of events in the Christian community, in which he takes so little XIX interest, is carrying him securely on to the land of" uprightness, although, perhaps, there is no one thing which Christianity has achieved for him, of which he has any definite view, as a warrant for this expecta- tion. Now it is this ease of mind of which we wish to see him bereft, not because we envy his enjoyment, but because we dread his infatuation; and in order to this it shall be our endeavour to provoke him to jealousy in the sense above described, in the £e\v re- maining pages of this Essay. Let it not be thought however, that the thing can be done merely by an argument made out to the conscience, and for the time adniitted to be fair or forcible. This, at best, is but conviction, and if the whole shall terminate here, the man is injured instead of being reformed, because, if, after feeling the force of argument, he has failed to give way to its moral impulse, he has sinned against light, which is the most heinous, and, therefore, the most hazardous of all the forms of hu- man trespass. After gaining access to the soul, the argument must abide with it in order to serve its purpose, subduing resistance, extending and deep- enin(T its hold of the conscience, and (Tuidinof the man to such a course of conduct as corresponds with its conclusions; and the man who is in earnest about such a consummation, will ever be careful that his convictions as they come, shall form themselves into aspirations for that influence from above, with- out which, in all its speciality, and in all its power, our clearest convictions and warmest desires are but as the morning cloud, or the early dew, which goeth away. XX When the truest friends of piety among us, who know the Christian world, and have carefully ob- served its present symptoms, are overheard in their prayers, on its behalf, the things which they uni- formly implore are a check to the prevalence of a worldly disposition, an antidote to the influence of unwarrantable expectations, and a permanent excite- ment to individual Christian activity. Now the exercise oi jealousy is not the check nor the antidote nor the excitement referred to, but if thoroughly awakened, we are persuaded it is the very instrument by which the Spirit of God would realize them all. It would check the prevalence of a worldly dis- position. The Spirit of this world, in the modifica- tion of it at present referred to, is not the Spirit of wickedness strictly so called. It is not that propen- sity to open impiety, or villany, or sensuality, which the mere civilian combines with the Christian in consigning to reprobation — but it is that inspiration from the world, in its wealth, or its business, or its moderated enjoyments, or its ties of relationship, which the civilian tolerates, and which Christianity stands alone in forbidding to her disciples. It is not, in short, the practice of obvious iniquity, but the pursuit of what is lawful — the doing of that which is not a sin, from a spirit which is unlawful, which is at present so adverse to the wellbeing of pro- fessing Christians. Instances of the grosser kind may occur even among the best of Christians, as nox- ious humours may be generated, and become erup- tive, in the healthiest constitutions, but in the very worst of times they are of rare occurrence. They can- XXI not be habitual in any follower of Jesus Christ; for a wicked Christian, a habitually unholy saint, a uni- formly scandalous worshipper of God, are colloca- tions of thought to which our language is not fa- miliar ; the very sound of such a phraseology grates upon the ear ; it is an absurdity in logic, and an im- possibility in fact. From what may be called enor- mities of guilt, therefore, Christians in the mass are comparatively in little hazard. But there is a spirit which steals in upon the man under the goodly ex- terior of diligence in business, or concern for the support of a rising family, or a permissible aversion to manual labour, or a creditable desire to be rich or great, and just because these things are not only harm- less, but confessedly laudable; because the spirit which works in them arrives at the heart, under this au- spicious recommendation, do they succeed in secu- larizing the man within the very precincts of war- ranted indulgence. We can never be too deeply convinced of it that if we are at all sanctified men, if we are so much as in good earnest about religion, it is not " the works of the flesh," in their own un- vailed deformity, but the spirit which animates these works departing from them, but actuating us through a less offensive medium, which is most like- ly to entangle our souls, and snare them into sin, so long as we have to do with the affairs of this life. " The course of this world," in the grosser sense of the words, is an obvious course, which is easily seen, and must be abandoned, by all who so much as pretend to godliness, but to take part in the ne- cessary business of the world, to share in its useful XXll enjoyments, to evade its noxious influence, and turn its good things to a Christian account, constitutes the great difficulty, and it is this region of subtile infection, so sickly, and yet so much frequented, where the malady is endemic, and the number of spiritual invalids so wofully multiplied. But why are they multiplied? Are the propen- sities of the spiritual man so different from those of the natural, that sickness is his element, and health the object of his aversion ? Or is his destiny so pe- culiar, as to entail upon him the former, and ex- clude him from the latter, by a necessary law of his being? By no means. Disease is grievous to the child of grace as really as to the child of nature. He avoids it, and seeks its opposite, under the im- pulse of a feeling which is steady and uniform as the workings of instinct. Its encroachments afflict him, and drink up his spirits, with a fierceness and acri- mony, which are so much the more intolerable that their seat is in the soul, and not in the body. Nor is the prevalence of the evil at all to be ascribed to any destination on the part of his God, inspiring him with spiritual life, but, at the same time, oppre_s- sing the functions and withholding the joys of that life; for in the economy under which he lives, there is a provision made for him, which is richer in its stores, and stronger in its securities, and healthier in its tendencies, and more minute in its adaptations, than the system of nature herself. Under the one economy, disaster may come, and the creature may perish, in despite of all the wisdom and all the care which it is possible for him to put forth; but under XXlll the latter, he can never perish, nor can he ever suffer distress, unless he has procured it by his own misdo- ings. But when he enters this infected region, he forgets himself ; the influence of its atmosphere stu- pifies his senses ; a moral lethargy pervades his soul ; and or ever he is aware, the principle of self-preserva- tion within him — a principle which is as much iden- tified with the spiritual as with the natural life — has sunk into dormancy. He may be quiet, or uncon- scious of pain, or pleased with his situation, and impa- tient of all remarks upon it; but is he the better for this? He is verily the vvorse for it. It is the most appalling symptom of the whole case. We pity our friend in his bodily malady, although he enjoys the use of his faculties, and is fully aware of his situation: but if the malady shall go on till it has disturbed his faculties ; if the dejection of countenance, which be- fits its character, has been changed into an unseemly liveliness, while the images of health are sporting with his fancy, and the language of incoherence dropping from his lips, — it is then that we tremble for the con- sequences. It is the delirium of the malady, or the greatness of its power, as indicated by that delirium, which distresses us most of all; and were the symptoms of the spiritual malady as correctly estimated, or were the springs of spiritual sympathy as easily opened as those of mere humanity, it would then be felt that the contentment or cheerfulness of that Chris- tian, who has caught the contagion of a worldly spi- rit, and is labouring under its delirium, is the very reason why all that is tender, and all that is sacred in the friendship of Christian brotherhood, should be excited on his behalf. XXIV What then is to be done for him, or rather what is he to do for himself? for here, as in other matters, he must " work out his own salvation," it being " God who worketh in him both to will and to do of his good pleasure." Why, he must be put in fear. That modification of jealousy, which springs from a sense of danger, must be awakened in his soul. In a moral sense, the man is insane — his heart is insnared, and his head is turned ; his repugnance to the imputation is but a symptom of its truth, and that distempered ease of mind, which has been thus superinduced upon him, is the very first thing which must be assailed. He must work out his salvation from this calamity, but he will not work, he cannot do so: to suppose that he could, till he is first actu- ated by fear and trembling, would be to violate all philosophy, and all experience, and all inspired deli- neation which apply to the case. He must think otherwise before he can act otherwise; he must see danger before he can flee from danger; he must feel it as a matter of pungent conviction, that he is " conformed to this world" before he can submit to be " transformed by the renewing of his mind." Were the danger in question but local and physical, confined to the body, and advancing upon it from without, he might be shielded against it, or carried away from it irrespective of the state of his mind, or kept in perfect safety by the vigilance of his friends, and, judging from practical indications, we are obliged to suspect that something akin to this is most impiously expected, even in cases of spiritual danger, by secularized professors of Christianity. XXV The readiness with which they descend into moral contamination, and the complacency with which they remain there, seem to hespeak a latent helief that God will preserve them, and bring them up again, whether they will or not. But, this is grossly to materialize, and grievously to pervert the whole sys- tem of spiritual discipline. In some such way as this the Creator may act on the trees of the forest, or the beasts of the field, or the faculties of wicked men. He can make a man the instrument of his will, although that " man meaneth not, so neither doth his heart think so," and there are, confessedly, many things contributive to the preservation and ultimate maturity of a renovated man^ of which that man has no knowledge, and to which he gives no con- scious concurrence. This, however, is not the way in which he is either renewed at first, or educated afterwards. Although much may be done for crea- tures like us, among the good things of this life, while our hearts are at war with the doer, yet no- thing can be done in the application of salvation to our souls either at first, or in its subsequent stages, except in the way of bringing our souls to acquiesce in the will of our great Benefactor. It is souls which are lost, it is the rescue of souls " from Satan to God," in the exercise of thought, volition and love, which redemption contemplates, and to suppose that the work of salvation can be carried through, although disowned or counterwrought by the very soul which is the subject of it, is to harbour the wildest extravao-ance. o No, ye degenerate Christians, who have come down from the pinnacle of ethereal inhalations, to stupify B 27 XXVI your senses by brcatliing a corrupted atmosphere, and are projecting in your folly a forbidden alliance between the services of God and Mammon, ye can never succeed. Your faculties cannot be stretched between extremes so distant. You have a moral nature, and therefore you must serve some one. You have each but one soul, and therefore can serve but one master. Bethink yourselves then. You are sunk at present, into a deep abyss of infatuation and infamy, your leanness is testifying against you, heaven is frowning upon you in righteous displeasure, your spiritual kindred on earth are saddened at the sight of you, and hell herself, although pleased with yoi.r devisings, has penetration enough to hold you in derision. You are beset with dangers which would alarm an angel, could he be placed in your circumstances, and do not suppose that your escape can be effected without any concern on your part. You cannot be shielded, in your present predica- ment, nor drawn out of it against your will. Your Christian friends are not equal to this, the priiyers of all the saints cannot avail you, nor can God him- self, although rich in grace, and abounding in com- passion to them that fear him, come down for your deliverance in any other way than by changing the current of your propensities, and making you workers together with himself. Your slumberings must be broken, to dissipate your reveries, your eyes must be opened to gaze on realities, and your consciences must be smitten, and constrained to speak out, before you can so much as bestir your- selves in spiritual reformation. You cannot be caught away from the scene of secular indulgence XXVll by any effort of any power which acts merely iqmii you, but does not act "dcilhin you; you must come out of it by a movemcut which is your own, and commenced undcj' the impulse of choice and con- viction. Remerabei too, that this is tlie gosjJcl of the case as well as the /aiv of it. It invests you unduly with no power, while it urges you imperiously to duty; it ascribes to you no merit, while it loads you with responsibility; it gives countenance to no infraction on the entircness of the grace of God as the spring oi' every thing gracious in human operation, but it teaches you what in practice is greatly overlool;ed, — that it is not upon you by co- ercion or detached effective force, but within y..L by persuasion and cogent moral influence, that grace abounds to the accomplishment of its purpose. " It is God who worketh n/ you," first "/o w///," and then '' to do of his good pleasure;" and if so, then has he chosen by his Spirit to coalesce with your spirits, that, by putting youselves in motion, ac- cording to the rule of prescribed activity, you may regain the ascendency over all terrestrial entangle- ments. Still the work is yours, as a matter of indefeasible obligation, and if it is not done, the law of spiritual obedience is not kept, and the fruits of spiritual obedience cannot become apparent; for the Spirit of holiness, although the fountain of all that you aie, as "created anew in Christ Jesus," has not made himself a subject of law for you. He has not become your substitute for pollution, as Christ was for guilt and condemnation; and to give tole- rance within you to any such delusion, is to abuse the grace of God, and to ^'mill{fy the law through faith." B 2 XXVlll We speak not here of infants or imbeciles, or persons who are physically incapable of estimating the power of motives; for, as these are deprived of your privilege, they are also relieved from your obligations. God has denied us access to their understandings; and, leaving us nothing to do for them, he has hid from us the way in which they are made to share in the visitations of his mercy. But we speak of you, who are not in their circumstances, who have no claims whatever to be included in their exemptions : and, in recurring to the assertion that you must come out of your present predicament, we implore you to take up the case, and ask yourselves how you are to do so. Can the transition be ef- fected as a matter of course at any time you may choose to think of it? Surely, you are aware, that this is not its character — that there are habits to be subdued, and aversions to be surmounted, and propensities to be mortified, and alliances to be broken off — a formidable muster of obstruction and difficulty, for the mastering of which, indifference is but another name for imbecility. Your disease is numbness, occasioned by the action on your souls of those frosts in the moral world, into the region of which you ought not to have entered, and nothing can relieve you but a new impulse of heavenly vi- tality coming forth from the heart in re-action on its invader, and diffusing itself in warming and restora- tive influence over the whole soul. But, be as- sured of it, that this process, in the spiritual as in the animal system^ is searching and painful. It re- sembles not an awakening from sleep, but a rising from the dead. It is not a coalition, but a conflict XXIX between life and death, tlic one struggling to regain its own, and the other to retain its encroachment. You maij have slept into the disease, but sleep out of it you never can : and harbour not the thought, nor the delusion which lurks under it, that you are Christians, and cannot die; for it is not the fact which is secret, but the symptoms, which are ob- vious, with which you have at present to do. It is the things which are revealed in the develop- ment of our own characters, as well as in the oracles of heaven, which belong unto us ; and, mention it, if you can, what is it among all the appearances of your case, which prevents the wo with which Israel's prophet was burdened of old from alighting upon you in all its tremendous severity ? — " Go, and tell this peoj)h\ Hear ye indeed, but understand not; and see ye indeed, but perceive not. Make the heart of this people fat, and make their ears heavy, and shut their eyes, lest they see with their eyes, and hear with their ears, and understand with their heart, and convert, and be healed — until the cities be wasted, without inhabitant, and the houses without man, and the land be utterly desolate, and the Lord have removed men far away, and there be a great forsaking in the midst of the land." Again, jealousy would furnish an antidote to the influence of unwarrantable expectations. The dis- position to keep up the heart amidst obvious signs of declension in the Christian life, by reverting to the experience of better days as evidence of con- version, and drawing from this evidence an argu- ment for safety founded on the doctrine of Chris- tian perseverance, although in very injurious opera- XXX tion, is, perhaps, not so common in our times as a proneness to hope the hest, without any evidence at all, or any assignable cause I'or that uniform compo- sure ill which the multitude are carried along to the crisis of their destiny. The vast majority, it is to be feared, have not got so far as to reason the point, at least, in a positive way. The whole subject, as it floats before their minds, is loose and confused — there is nothing definite or tangible, about it, but still there is a hope on which the soul reposes itself amidst all the vicissitudes of time, and its concerns, and which they cannot bear to be persuaded either to examine or to dislodge. Or, if they come to specification at all, as perhaps they must at times in the privacy of their thoughts, the case which they make out for themselves, and on which they rest their expecta- tions is altogether of a negative kind. " I am not a Heathen, but a Christian," may be supposed to be the plea in such cases, " and a Christian too, not of the Greek or Roman school, but of the British and Protestant, where the streams of salu- brity which emanate from the Bible are purest, be- cause nearest the fountain. Among Protestants, I am not an infidel. The scorn which sceptical im- piety has cast upon religion, and the arts by which subtle ungodliness would undermine its principles are abhorrent to my soul, and neither enjoy my countenance, nor receive my co-operation. I ve- nerate the institutes of my religion, I concur in its sacred services, and disown the practice of public indecency in compliance with its prohibitions; and, although the business of this life, and its allowable recreations, and the aspirings of a spirit of enter- . XXXI prize should engross my thoughts, or carry me into occasional excesses, yci; these are reproved by my better feelings, it' not outweighed by my Christian virtues, and why should I doubt but that all is well? The very state of things around me is nourishment to my hope. God has ordained salvation for man, and furnished its great pre-requisites in the mis- sion and death of his Son, he has caused the tidings of this salvation to come down, and the light of it to brighten for ages on the land of my nativity. My parents were Christians, and gave me to their God in the days of my earliest infancy, and although I may have been chargeable, on some occasions, with slips and delinquencies just like other people, yet my conscience acquits me of every thing which can fairly bo construed into a decided abandonment of the God of my fathers. I am a Christian, in short, if I be any tiling, and, although not initiated into those myijiiiied spiritualities, which others value so much, and which, if there be any tiling in them, seem to belonfj to heaven rathei than to the business of earth, the conclusion is warranted, and does honouv to the mercy of God, that I am a sharer in the common benefit." Nov/, leavin"' the merits of this claim in the ful- ness of its amount, to be estimated by the Author of the following Volume, let us put the question here, Wliat, if it be all a delusion? We shall not say it is so, although the ignorance which it be- trays, even of the dialect of scriptural feeling, goes far to destroy its pretensions; but it may be so: it is, at least, but the showing of an erring mortal in his own cause, and on a subject in which the wisest XXXll are often bewildered. To examine it anew is a dictate of every day wisdom, for men do not rest in their calculations of money, or merchandize, or science, till they have subjected them to a repeated inspection, although the results of error in these de- partments, at the very highest, are but trifles light as air when compared with the interest which is here at stake. Nor is it possible, that a review of the case, if conducted in a proper spirit, can fail to be profitable, whatsoever be the result to which it conducts you. Let it be supposed, that such a review confirms the belief that you are, in fact, what you hope you are, that it has given clearance and consolidation to the grounds of your previous opinion, or has augmented these by the discovery of some latent lineaments of the Christian charac- ter which really belong to you, but have hitherto escaped your notice, and this is profitable in as much as you thus procure for yourselves a warranted ac- cession of establishment and joy. Or, suppose the reverse of this to be the conclusion at which you ar- rive, that in the very act of examining the position on which you stand, you find it to give way from un- der you, and your hope to evanish like the imagery of a dream, and still you are gainers by the result. You may fall from the eminence on which your fancy had placed you, but you are just where you were in the sight of God, and you cannot fall as yet into actual perdition. You may be hurled down- wards to your proper standing among the children of this world, but the children of this world, and yourselves among them, are " prisoners of hope," in a region where mercy is proclaimed, and where XXXlll the God who made you, is ready to redeem you. The disclosure then, although awful in its character, is yet of immense importance: it is not to be depre- cated, but made welcome in all the solemnity of its indications; for had the delusion continued, your ruin was certain, but now it is gone, and the way of escape is open before you. Besides all this, aversion to scrutiny in so weiglity a matter, would betray an indifference, which but ill comports with pretensions to Christianity, as well as induce a sus- picion, that you secretly shrink from the conse- quences in which it is likely to end. The man who cherishes such an aversion must either be reck- less of the whole matter, or afraid to set his own eyes on that which embodies his hopes for eternity. In either case, it is time to be suspicious, and to be^in the search for realities. We do not ask every man to agitate the question, Am I a Christian or am I not? for many, it is pre- sumable, have established the point on the surest of evidence, and having no need to " lay again the foundation of repentance from dead works and of faith towards God," they are not called upon to embarrass their exercise, or becloud their prospects, by attempting anew to clear out that foundation. Nor do we ask any man to make the ascertainment of this point the object of his exclusive and feverish pursuit, for, if he does so, if he turns his attention inward upon himself, and chains it down to the soli- tary function of watching and estimating the move- ments of his own heart, or developments of his own character, the commanded use of the Christian remedy being all the while suspended, it is beyond B3 XXXIV a question, that he will fret his own spirit, and multiply the perplexities which he wishes to clear away. If the case be inexplicable as it stands, it must be made to stand otherwise. The man must come out from himself, and go into the region of promise, and privilege, and definite prescription, which God has unfolded before him in the word of the truth of the gospel ; and having refreshed it- self there, his mind will acquire a new vigour, and be furnished with new material for coming to know " how 'hat Jesus Christ is in him ;" except as yet, he be unailested. But we urge it on you to agitate the question, because your claim to the attainment of the former of these classes, is very suspicious, while the fears which afflict the latter, are far away from you. Take care, however, how you manage the scrutiny, for on this, depends every thing for its practical advantage. If you content yourselves with surveying precisely the same features in your moral complexion, and with looking at these features at every repeated survey, in precisely the same point of view; it is a matter of course, that you can make no discoveries; and however often you re- peat the exercise, the last result will correspond with the first. Or although, after the manner of experienced calculators, you vary the process, and make your characters to appear before you in many a different attitude ; yet if you examine them in an easy, and reposing, and hoping state of mind, you have the best reason to suspect that the decision to which you are brought, will be less in accordance with the evidence of facts, than with the frame of spirit, in which you examined these facts; and, after XXXV all, your confidence is founded not on tlie intrinsic merits of the case, but on the fondness of a falla- cious wish in reference to that case. Hope is the soul of terrestrial enjoyment, but it is the opiate of fear, and where fear is asleep, there can be no im- partiality, and of course, no success in the examina- tion of religious character. It wouhl be absolutely senseless in any man to go into scrutiny, on any subject in the absence of all apprehension. It is a thing which he cannot do, the very laws of his con- stitution have put it out of his power, and if respect for authority, in any instance, induces him to attempt it, he is constrained to recur to an ideal apprehen- sion, as a substitute for belief in the reality of its existence. But where the apprehension is ideal, such also must be the scrutiny to which it gives rise; where there is no solid suspicion of danger or dis- appointment, there can be no earnestness of effort to avoid these evils. Now, all this enforces the thought, that, in or- der to a proper estimate of the foundation on which your hopes are at this moment resting for eternity, you must be actuated by the spirit of jealousy. Nothing can avail you but that upstirring of spirit which brings you in good earnest to have to do with realities. The view which you are called upon to take of yourselves is not imaginary, but sober and rational. It does not consist in censuring yourselves without cause, or in thinking yourselves more sinful, or vile, or ill-deserving, than you really are; for this would be meanness, and not modesty: but it is the produce of sound knowledge, applied to pious purposes. Fear it not, that your religious moni- XXXVl tors would have you to feel what you do not believe . about yourselves, any more than about other men ; for you must have evidence here on which to ground your sentiment, as well as in every thing else. Their aim is to persuade you to search for facts, that you may know them, and be disciplined by them, and that, under the impression of all that is dismal in your present disease, you may come to the expe- rience of all that is heaUng in its proffered remedy. Well, a pious suspicion of yourselves is just the instrument by which this knowledge is acquired. That vulgar jealousy which is so offensively preva- lent in common life, is proverbially quicksighted in finding out the faults of its object. So eagerly does it search for deficiencies, that the mind which it actuates is sure to imagine blemishes which never had any existence, and are only attached to the character which it persecutes, by the taint of its own malevolence. This, you will say, is absolute vice. And so it is ; but it is nothing more than a human faculty — a constitutional instrument of vir- tue — first vitiated, and then misapplied. But let this same faculty be recalled from what is alien and outward, and made to settle on what is within ; let it be divested of its moral turpitude, and imbued with Christian feeling ; and then will it be found to be the very instrument by which the Almighty is pleased to work, when he rends the veil of delusion, and lays a man open to himself, teaching him first to know, and then to abhor himself, repenting in dust and ashes. It may be severe in its reprehen- sions, or vexatious in descrying deformities ; but it is the ally of truth, and the pioneer of holiness. xxxvu Where the Christian neglects it, he cannot see himself; where he docs not see himself, he cannot be humble; and where he is not humble, he cannot prosper. Again, Jealousy gives a permanent excitement to individual Christian activity. However far the real Christian may have gone into apostacy, or to what- ever extent the lethargy of his disease may have overpowered his sensibilities, he is not absolutely dead ; and the Spirit of life being still within him, it is to be expected, that occasional twitches of con- viction will shoot across his soul, giving him a mo- mentary impulse, and startling him for the time being with a passing glimpse of his situation. But where these awakenings, however pungent, are of rare occurrence, and short continuance ; where they die away from his recollection, like the imagery of a frightful dream, without altering the mood of his mind, or giving any efficient stimulus to its powers of action ; they are not to be counted on, and argue nothing but increasing obduracy. The instances in which they occur, are numerous; for man is not bad enough, even in his degeneracy, to be always indif- ferent to the smitings of his conscience : but there is no instance in which a fitfulness of this kind is productive of that repentance and amendment of life, which brings the Christian back from his wan- derings, or the sinner to accept of the proffered salvation. In order to this, the excitement must not be transient and intermitting, but steady and enduring; not simply disturbing the sleep of insen- sibility, but counteracting its tendencies, and put- ting it altogether away. The thing wanted to XXXVUl arouse tlie man, and make him aspire and act, as well as think and feel, is not a gust of painful feel- ing, but the power of abiding principle, command- ino" the soul, and constraining the exertion of its energies, in obedience to its steady dictation. Nothing short of this can be of solid use, for giv- ino- tension and vioour to the nerve of Christian industry, after that nerve has been relaxed and en- feebled by the slumbers of insensibility. The soul must be made induslrious^ as well as awaked out of sleep; bui nothing Cc)n make it so, but living and practical piinciple, and principle, too, of that very kind, whether painful or pleasurable, terrific or at- tractive, which is fitted to give impulse, and to sustain activity, in the direction of present duty. Now, simple alarm is not fitted for this. By the grace of God, it may have power enough to impel the sinner, or the degenerate Christian, to flee for refuge to lay hold on the hope set before him ; but, having brought him to this, it has ex- pended itself, and leaves him in peace and comfort. Or, if it fails to carry him to the source of relief, although still retaining the ascendency within him, it oppresses his faculties, and sinks him into helpless despondency. But jealousy is a thorough-going principle, adapted to the sinner in the first awaken- ings of his religious concern, and abiding with him as his guide and monitor, throughout the journey of his earthly pilgrimage. Nor can he ever be safe in the absence of its guardianship, till he has ar- rived in the land of uprightness. When asleep, it awakes him ; when perplexed, it constrains him to search for relief; and, even when his prospects are XXXIX bright and transpovting, solacing bis soul, and stretcb- ing it out by anticipation on tbe glories of immortal- ity, it reminds him tliat he has to run, in order to obtain ; that in proportion to the richness of the prize, should be the fear of coming short of it ; and in this way does it form him to industry, and give a decidedly practical bearing to the sweetest and most sublime of his contemplations. True enough, it will prove itself, in less or more, a ministration of fear ; for it belongs to its very nature, to preserve before the soul a reijular muster of all the facts and probabilities which are, or may be, opposed to its well-being ; but this is the very germ of its utility ; for its proper business is to speak truth ; — and if there be but one truth which ought to be feared in the whole history of a Christian's heart, or life, or prospects, that is the truth to which bis meditations ought to be steadily turned. In the whole busi- ness of religion, we must either be driven by fear, or drav/n by love, or actuated by both combined ; and by nothing whatever ought the influence of the former to be neutralized, but by the ascendency of the latter. The heaven which the Scriptures exhi- bit to the Christian, is indeed a powerful attraction ; and the sanctioned hope of arriving in it, is the kindliest impulse to duty; but how arduous is the transformation under which a man musi pass, before he can possibly enter it ! how v^ayward is his heart, and ready to misgive in all his preparations for it ! how great is his tendency to self-deception ! and how closely is he beset with snares and divertisements, at every step of his journey towards it ! For all this, it is true, there is a provision made, which is free as the heaven itself, and equal to his utmost necessities ; but, in order to appreciate this provi- sion, or to bring his soul to reliance on it in such a way as to be made active, he must feel his work to be formidable, and meet its many details with fear and tremblino;. It is the hazards of the Christian life, either pre- sent or prospective, which give birth to jealousy, as well as sustain its existence, and justify its opera- tions; and, as these hazards continue so long as the man continues in this world, it ought to conti- nue also, and its suggestions and maxims to be lis- tened to, even by the best conditioned of the saints, till the earthly house of this tabernacle is dis- solved ; but if ihey have a call to suspect them- selves, the same call must be louder, and more urgent, as addressed to those who have sunk into degeneracy. It were no doubt a higher attainment to be above the need of circumspection, and to have the soul attracted to the business of religion by its own intrinsic excellence ; and assuredly, the man who can rise to this, is warranted to do so in the spirit of gratitude and praise. But, vievving the matter generally, it may be safely affirmed, that this world is not the scene for such altitude of bliss, nor is the influence of iDure disinterested love, in all cases, the best excitement to those specific exercises which are characteristic of the present state. It partakes too much of quiescence and contemplation, for keeping alive those convictions, and sorrows, and severities of discipline, which tend most directly to the crucifying of the flesh. In one word, it is heaven ; and the man who is caught up into it here? xli is found, for the most part, to forget himself, and suddenly to relapse into sin. We plead not, of course, for the exclusion of love in its other modifi- cations ; for where it is absent, every thing is absent which ffives life to Christian exercise. But we plead for that attitude of soul, which lays open to its own inspection the actual state of things within it and around it, divesting it of subterfuge, and freeing it from illusion, and thus summoning its en- tire operations to the point of greatest danger. We count on it, then, that the awakening of this mood of mind, and the judicious Christian use of it in the present state of the religious world, is the very thing which is wanted, to check the preva- lence of a worldly spirit, and defeat the influence of unwarrantable expectations ; thus giving a per- manent excitement to individual Christian activity. And if it shall please God, by a visitation of his mercy, to send us deliverance from these woful evils, then may we hope to find in each other a depth of spiritual-mindedness, and an energy of re- ligious character, which is now but rarely to be met with ; as well as in the whole of us combined, a power for exterminating irreligion, whether at home or in distant lands, which has not as yet been exem- plified. No one surely can suppose, that, in selecting the principle of jealousy, and setting it thus on high, we are meditating any neglect of the other kinds of exercise, which may be called the ancient and ef- fective allies of Christian godliness ; for in this one feeling, if we look at its component parts, we shall find a concentration of all that is competent to the xlii man, or enjoined upon the Christian. There is 'rea- son in jealousy, for it is the instrument of sound information ; — there is wisdom in it, for it is the use of the fittest means for gaining the highest end ; — there is Christian behef in it, either in its prin- ciple, or its growth into principle ; for the man whom it actuates, is made alive to the realities of a world to come ; — there is repentance in it, for it gives rise to a sorrow which corresponds with its own nature, and leads the way to reformation ;— there is love in it, for it is a testimony to the excel- lence of religion, coming forth from the heart ;^ and there is hope in it, for it puts the soul in mo- tion after that which is seen to be attainable. Thus does it stimulate the sinner, however sullen or ob- durate, to think of his situation ; or arouse and bring together the living elements of piety, however fee])Ie or disordered ; constraining them to the very exercises which tend to their invigoration ; and thereby proving itself the censor of indolence, the harbinger of improvement, and the safeguard of Christian attainment. Is it allowable now to suppose, that the reader of these few pages has found himself the person to whom they apply ? Is he bound to confess it, as an honest man, that his spirit is worldly, or his hopes fallacious, or his religious activities relaxed or suspended ? Does he feel, withal, the workings of ingenuous desire to be delivered from the body of this death ? Then let him give himself to a prayerful perusal of " The Almost Christian;" for if there be one thing more than another, which xliii its pages are fitted to produce, it is a godly jea- lousy. To awaken this, and realize the fruits of it, is the Author's chosen purpose. It is truly a searching volume. Its Author saw the havock which an easy credulity in matters of religion was spreading among professors of his own time ; his spirit was stirred within him, at the thought of the delusion which it propagated, and the immensity of the interests which it bartered away; and in dis- charging a duty to the men of his generation, he has put on record a word in season to us. The volume is now intercepted from the disuse into which it was sinking ; a laudable effort is made, to present it afresh to the religious public ; and most devoutly is it to be wished, that the exercises which it inculcates, and to which it so honestly leads the way, may become the characteristic of modern pro- fessors. The immediate effect of such a revulsion might be, an extensive overthrow of hopes and pur- poses ; but its latter end would be, righteousness and peace. It might lead to that fearfulness which surpriseth the hypocrite ; but nothing whatever would it demolish, except those refuges of lies which the hail of a judgment to come must ulti- mately sweep away. We cannot, indeed, withhold the remark, al- though it should be deemed censorious, that there is a very jpeculiar adaptation of the sentiments of this little book to the character of the times in which we are livintj. We all know the extent to which we set the fashion to each other in religion as in every thing else, and every wise man will take care so to estimate the spirit of his times, as to as- xliv certain the precise kind of modification into which they tend to form his character. There are times when Christianity is newly introduced among a people, or when an important reformation in its gen- eral profession has been recently effected, or when professors are assailed by persecution, or when a gen- eral revival of religion in its life and power has taken place, and in these times there is a tendency to the production of a severe sanctity in morals, and a peculiarly fervent and decided piety. In this state of things, the man of neutrality cannot subsist, and must either make an effort to come up to the general standard, or see himself left in the congregation of sinners. Such, however, are not our times. We have grown old in the enjoyment of peace, and the use of external privilege; the public creeds of most of our churches are substantially ortho- dox : this has produced, and is still maintaining a general soundness of religious sentiment among the professing community at large. The continued enforcement of Christian doctrine on the minds of the people, is preserving, if not extending a com- mendable decency of deportment; the attention paid to religious training among the young, with the re- maining purity of Christian fellowship so far as it prevails, and the mingling influence of pious exam- ple from those who are decidedly Christian, have refined away the coarseness of the age, and induced even scepticism herself to speak with courtesy of the religion of the land. Now, let these things be put together and seriously thought of — let their ten- dency to induce a man to think well of himself, since he confessedly holds so much, and stands so well xlv with others around him, be fairly estimated, and surely it will be granted that there is reason at least to inquire whether amidst the ease and tranquillity of our times, we are not egregiously forgetting our- selves, and singing a dismal lullaby over the slum- berings of piety. When a man gives himself to considerations like these in the deep seclusion of serious thought — when he connects them for illus- tration with what he sees and hears, and allows them to speak their native language to his understanding and his heart, he cannot suppress the working sus- picion — that we are setting a fashion to each other of a kind the most injurious, and that the very gen- eration to which we belong, more fearfully perhaps than any other, is abounding with " Almost Chris- tians." For such a state of things, the reader has in his hands an admirable antidote, applied with a plain- ness, and point, and delightful I'elicity of scriptural illustration, which render it both impressive and memorable. Matthew Mead, it is very true, was a man of olden habits, and to the charms of modern diction, his book has no pretensions ; but we see him in the garb of his times, and that taste must be pettish indeed, which would wish to see him in any other. The style of the book, although unadorned, is yet perspicuous and striking, and the very home- liness of its phrases, in instances not a few, is hap- pily fitted to promote its efficiency. It is a book of topics, containing much meaning in few words; and the serious reader may often regret that more has not been said, on matters which he feels to be so very interesting. But this xlvi appearance of defect is in reality an excellence; its aim is to provoke a scrutiny of character; and the writer who proposes this, has done enough, when he has shown cause for such a scrutiny, digested maxims for conducting it, and impressed his reader with the importance of the subject. The thing wanted here, is not an agent to do the work for a man, but a guide and monitor to furnish him with facilities, and ply him with motives to do it for him- self. It is a book of dissections, in which every de- partment of the Christian character is skilfully di- vested of its covering, and laid open to impartial survey, and although it would be too much to say, that in the performance of a task, which exhibits such diversity, and requires such a nicety of spirit- ual discrimination, nothing has been done to dis- turb the peace of a saint ; yet the instances in which its Author is chargeable with this, we take to be very fevv^ ; while perhaps there is not one of them in which the pain produced, if rightly improven, is not salutary in its tendency, or fails to lead on to more exalted enjoyment. But supposing that in- stances do occur, in which the peace of conscience is unduly disturbed, or that a sentiment here and there, has dropped from the pen of the Author, which tends to a false or injurious alarm, still it is better that a reparable injury should be suffered, than that a delusion which is irreparable should remain unde- tected. It is the lot of the messenger, who either lifts up his voice or his pen to publish the counsel of God to man in the present complex state of society, that he cannot sound an alarm to the wicked, with- xlvii out putting some of the righteous in fear; nor can he minister consolation to the latter, without at least the hazard of having his message misapplied by the perversity oi' the latter. For these things, how- ever, he is not accountable, although it is well that they overawe him. The scene in which he la- bours, is adjusted to his hand, by a wisdom which cannot err, and which has lef( him no choice, but to take thini^s as he finds them ; euardinof himself as he can against either extreme, and imploring as he goes on, that, by the mercy of the Lord, he may be found I'aithl'ul. But leaving the Treatise to speak for itself, we beseech the man who is but almost a Christian, in travelling through its pages to avail himself of its aid. We ask him simply, to reason the matter on the principles ^uAJindings which it sets before him ; but to do this in that spirit of earnest and humble inquisitiveness, which befits so grave a subject: and if such a spirit be far from him, or appearing to evaporate as he proceeds, let him pause and invoke its return, from that God in Jesus Christ, who maketh the heart of the rash to understand doc- trine. As he wishes to prosper, let him nevei^ for- get, that while it is easy to show him the proper means, and possible to bring him into contact with these, yet the disposition to apply the means in such a way, as to gain their end, cometh forth from Him, who is wonderful in counsel and excellent in working-. D. Y. Perih, December, 1825. CONTENTS. Page Dedication, 35 To the Reader, 39 Introduction, ....... 47 QUEST. I. How Jar a man may go in the way to heaven, and yet be but almost a Christian : this shown in twenty several steps, ©3 Sect. I. A man may have much knowled^^^e, and yet be but almost a Christian, ...... ib. Sect. 71. A man may have great and eminent gifts; yea, spiritual, and yet be but almost a Christian, . . G6 Sect. III. A man may have a high profession of religion, be much in external duties of godliness, and yet be but almost a Christian, ...... 70 Sect. IV. A man may go far in opposing his sin, and yet be but almost a Christian, 77 Sect. V. A man may hate sin, and yet be but almost a Christian, 84 Sect. VI. A man may make great vows and promises, strong piu-poses and resolutions against sin, and yet be but an almost Christian, ...... 86 Sect. VII. A man may maintain a strife and combat against sin in himself, and yet be but almost a Christian, . 89 Sect. VIII. A man may be a member of the church of Christ, and yet be but almost a Christian, . . 96 Sect. IX. A man may have great hopes of heaven, and yet be but almost a Christian, ..... 97 Sect. X. A man may be under visible changes, and yet be but almost a Christian, ..... 100 Sect. XI. A man may be veiy zealous in matters of religion, and yet be but almost a Christian, . , . 104 c 27 1 CONTENTS. Page Sect. XII. A man may be much in prayer, and yet be but almost a Christian, . . . . . . 110 Sect. XIIL A man may suffer for Christ, and yet be but almost a Christian, 114< Sect. XIV. A man may be called of God and embrace his call, and yet be but an almost Christian, , . 116 Sect. XV. A man may have the Spirit of God, and yet be but almost a Christian, . . . . . 118 Sect. XVI. A man may have faith, and yet be but almost a Christian, 121 Sect. XVII. A man may have a love to the people of God, and yet be but almost a Christian, . . . .125 Sect. XVI IT. A man may obey the commands of God, and yet be but almost a Christian, . . . . 129 Sect. XIX. A man maybe sanctified, and yet be but almost a Christian, 133 Sect. XX. A man may do all (as to external duties and worship) that a true Christian can, and yet be but almost a Christian, 136 QUEST. II. Whence it is that many go far and yet no farther? 140 QUEST. III. What difference between a natural conscience and a renewed conscience ? — answered, in several particu- lars, 145 QUEST. IV. Whence is it that many are but almost Chris- tians, when they have gone thus far ? , . 157 QUEST. V. What is the reason that many go no farther in the profession of religion, than to be almost Christians? 166 Application, 174 Use of Examination, 177 Use of Caution, 187 Use of Exhortation, 200 CONGRBfeATION AT ST. SEPUL6hJ|e'S, AUDITOft^^^THESE SE^fONS, GRACE AND pl^CE BE MULTIPLIED. Beloved, What the meaning of that providence was, that called me to the occupation of ray talent amongst you this summer, will be best read and understood by the effects of it upon your own souls. The kindly increase of grace and holiness in heart and life, can only prove it to have been in mercy. Where this is not the fruit of the word, there it becomes a judgment. The word travels with life or death, salvation or damnation, and bringeth forth one or the other in every soul that hears it. I would not for a world (were it in my power to make the choice) that my labours, which were meant and designed for the promotion of your immortal souls to the glory of the other world, in a present pursuance of the things of your peace, should be found to have been a ministration of death and con- demnation, in the great day of Jesus Christ. Yet this the Lord knoweth, is the too common effect of the most plain and powerful preaching of the gospel, " The waters of the sanctuary" do not always heal where they come, for there are " miry and marshy places that shall be given to salt." The same word is elsewhere in Scripture rendered " barrenness :" He " turneth a fruitful land into barrenness ;"— so that the judgment denounced upon these miry and marshy places is, that the curse of barrenness shall rest upon c2 36 them, notwithstanding the " waters of the sanctuary overflow them." It is said, with certainty, that the gospel inflict- eth a death of its own, as well as the law; or else how are those trees in Jude said to be " twice dead, and plucked up by the roots." Yea, that which in itself is the greatest mercy, through the interposi- tion of men's lusts, and the efficacy of this cursed sin of unbelief, turns to the greatest judgment, as the richest and most generous wine makes the sharpest vinegar. Our Lord Christ himself, the choicest mercy with which the bowels of God could bless a perishing world; whose coming, himself bearing witness, was on no less an errand than that of eternal life and blessedness to the lost and cursed sons of Adam ; yet to how many was he a " stone of stumbling, and a rock of offence;" yea, " a gin, and a snare;" and that to both the houses of Israel, the only professing people of God at that day in the world ? And is he not a stone of stumbling in the ministry of the gospel to many professors to this very day, upon which they fall and are broken ? Whenhesaith, '' Blessed is he whosoever shall not be offended in me," he therein plainly supposes, that both in his person and doctrine the generality of men would be offended in him. Not that this is the design of Christ and the gos- pel, but it comes so to pass through the corruptions of the hearts of men, whereby they make light of Christ, and stand out against that life and grace which the Lord Jesus by his blood so dearly pur- chased, and is by the preaching of the gospel so freely tendered ; the wilful refusal whereof will as 37 surely double our damnation, as the acceptance there- of will secure our eternal salvation. O consider, it is a thing of the most serious con- cern in the world, how we carry ourselves under the gospel, and with what dispositions and affections of heart soul-seasons of grace are entertained; this be- ing taken into the consideration to give it weight, that we are the nearer to heaven or hell, to salvation or damnation, by every ordinance we sit under. Boast not therefore of privileges enjoyed, with neg- lect of the important duties thereby required. Re- member Capernaum's case and tremble. As many go to heaven by the very gates of hell, so more go to hell by the gates of heaven ; in that the number of those that profess Christ is greater than the num- ber of those that truly close with Christ. Beloved, I know the preaching of the gospel hath proselyted many of you into a profession ; but 1 fear that but few of you are brought by it to a true close with the Lord Christ for salvation. I beseech you bear with my jealousy, for it is the fruit of a tender love for your precious souls. Most men are good Christians in the verdict of their own opinion ; but you know the law alloweth no man to be a witness in his own case, because their affection usually overreacheth conscience, and self-love de- ceiveth truth for its own interest. The heart of man is the greatest impostor and cheat in the world; God himself states it — "The heart is deceitful above all thintjs." Some of the deceits thereof you will find discovered in this Treatise, which shows you, that every grace hath its counterfeit, and that the highest profession may be, where true conversion is not. 38 The design of it is not to " break the bruised reed, nor to quench the smoking flax." Not to discourage the weakest believer, but to awaken for- mal professors. I would not sadden the hearts of any "whom God would not have made sad;" though I know it is hard to expose the dangerous state and condition of a professing hypocrite, but that the weak Christian will think himself concerned in the discovery. And therefore, as I preached a sermon on sincerity among you, for the support and en- couragement of such, so I purposed to have printed it with this. But who can be master of his own purposes ? That is, as I am under such daily variety of providences, your kindly acceptance of this, will make me a debtor for that. The dedication hereof belongs to you on a double account; for as it had not been preached, but that love to your souls caused it, so it had much less been printed, but that your importunate desire pro- cured it. And therefore what entertainment soever it finds in the world, yet 1 hope I may expect you will welcome it, especially considering it v/as born under your roof, and therefore hopes to find favour in your eyes, and room in your hearts. Accept it, I beseech you, as a public acknowledg- ment of the engagements which your great, and, I think I may say, unparalleled respects have laid me under, which I can no way compensate but by my prayers ; and if you will take them for satisfaction, I promise to be your remembrancer at the throne of grace, whilst I am MATTHEW MEAD. TO THE READER. Reader, I KNOW how customary it is for men to ascend the public stage with premised apologies for the weak- ness and unworthiness of their labours, which is an argument that their desires (either for the sake of others' profit, or their own credit, or both) are stretched beyond the bounds of their abilities; and that they covet to commend themselves to the world's censure, in a better dress than common infirmity will allow. For my own part, I may truly say with Gideon, " Behold, my thousand is the meanest," my talent is the smallest, " and I am the least in my Father's house;" and therefore this appearance in public is not the fruit of my own choice, which would rather have been on some other subject, wherein I stand in some sense indebted to the world, or else somewhat more digested, and pos- sibly better fitted for common acceptation. But this is but to consult the interest of a man's own name, which, in matters of this concern, is no better than a " sowing to the flesh," and the harvest of such a seed-time will be " in corruption." Thou hast here one of the saddest considerations imaginable presented to thee, and that is, " How 40 far it is possible a man may go in a profession religion, and yet, after all, fall short of salvation; how far he may run, and yet not so run as to ob- tain." This, I say, is sad, but not so sad as true; for our Lord Christ doth plainly attest it: " Strive to enter in at the strait gate; for many, I say unto you, will seek to enter in, and shall not be able." My design herein is, that the formal, sleepy pro- fessor may be awakened, and the close hypocrite discovered: but my fear is, that weak believers may be hereby discouraged; for, as it is hard to show how low a child of God may fall into sin, and yet have true grace, but that the sinner will be apt thereupon to presume; so it is as hard to show how high a hypocrite may rise in a profession, and yet have no grace, but that the believer will be apt thereupon to despond. The prevention whereof I have carefully endeavoured, by showing, that though a man may go thus far, and yet be but almost a Christian, yet a man may fall short of this, and be a true Christian notwithstanding. Judge not, there- fore, thy state by any one character thou findest laid down of a false professor; but read the whole, and then make a judgment: for I have cared, as not ta " give children's bread to dogs," so not to use the dog's whip to scare the children; yet I could wish that this book might fall into the hands of such only whom it chiefly concerns, who " have a name to live, and yet are dead;" being busy with the " form of godliness," but strangers to the " power of it." These are the proper subjects of this trea- tise: and the Lord follow it with his blessing wher- .\ 41 ever it comes, that it may be an awakening word to all such, and especially to that generation of profli- gate professors with which this age abounds; who, if they keep to their church, bow the knee, talk over a few prayers, and at a good time receive the sacrament; think they do enough for heaven, and hereupon judge their condition safe, and their sal- vation sure; though ther^ be a hell of sin in their hearts, " and the poison of asps is under their lips;" their minds being as yet carnal and unconverted, and their conversations filthy and unsanctified. If eternal life be of so easy attainment, and to be had at so cheap a rate, why did our Lord Christ tell us, " Strait is the gate, and narrow is the way which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it?'* And why should the apostle perplex us with such a needless injunction, " to give diligence to make our calling and election sure?" Certainly, therefore, it is no such easy thing to be saved, as many make it; and that thou wilt see plainly in the followincr dis- course. I have been somewhat short in the appli- cation of it; and therefore let me here be thy re- membrancer in five important duties: — First, " Take heed of resting in a form of godli- ness ; as if duties, ex oj)e7'e operato, could confer grace. A lifeless formality is advanced to a very high esteem in the world, as a " cab of dove's dung" was sold in the famine of Samaria at a very dear rate. Alas ! the profession of godliness is but a sandy foundation to build the hope of an immortal soul upon for eternity. Remember, the Lord Jesus Christ called him a fooHsh builder, " that founded his 4^ house upon the sand," and the sad event proved him so, " for it fell, and great was the fall of it." O therefore lay thy foundation by faith upon the rock Christ Jesus; look to Christ through all, and rest upon Christ in all. Secondly, " Labour to see an excellency in the power of godliness," a beauty in the life of Christ. If the means of grace have a loveliness in them, surely grace itself hath much more; for, " the good- ness of the means lies in its suitableness and service- ableness to the end." The form of godliness hath no goodness in it, any farther than it steads and be- comes useful to the soul in the power and practice of godliness. The life of holiness is the only ex- cellent life; it is the life of saints and angels in heaven ; yea, it is the life of God in himself. As it is a great proof of the baseness and filthiness of sin, that sinners seek to cover it; so it is a great proof of the excellency of godliness that so many pretend to it. The very hypocrite's fair profession pleads the cause of religion, although the hypocrite is then really worst, when he is seemingly best. Thirdly, " Look upon things to come as the greatest realities ;" for things that are not believed work no more upon the affections than if they had no being ; and this is the grand reason why the ge- nerality of men suffer their affections to go after the world, setting the creature in the place of God in their hearts. Most men judge of the reality of things by their visibility and proximity to sense; and, therefore, the choice of that wretched cardinal becomes their op- 43 tion, who would not leave his part in Paris for his part in Paradise. Sure, whatever his interest might be in the former, he had little enough in the latter. Weil may covetousness be called idolatry, when it thus chooses the world for its god. O ! consider — eternity is no dream ; hell and the worm that never dies, is no melancholy conceit. Heaven is no feigned Elysium ; there is the great- est reality imaginable in these things; though they are spiritual, and out of the keli of sense, yet they are real, and within the view of faith. " Look not therefore at the things which are seen, but look at the things which are not seen; for the things that are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal." Fourthly, " Set a high rate upon thy soul." What we lightly prize, we easily part with. Many men sell their souls at the rate of profane Esau's birth-right, " for a morsel of bread ;" nay, " for that which," in the sense of the Holy Ghost, " is not bread." O consider thy soul is the most precious and invaluable jewel in the world ; it is the most beautiful piece of God's workmanship in the whole creation ; it is that which bears the image of God, and which was bought with the blood of the Son of God : and shall we not set a value upon it, and count it precious ? The apostle Peter speaks of three very precious things : — 1. A precious Christ. 2. Precious Promises. 3. Precious Faith. 44 Now, the preciousness of all these lies in their usefulness to the soul. Christ is precious, as being - the redeemer of precious souls, — the Promises are precious, as making over this precious Christ to precious souls, — Faith is precious, as bringing a precious soul to close with a precious Christ, as he is held forth in the precious promises. O take heed that thou art not found over-valuing other things, and under-valuing thy soul. Shall thy flesh, nay thy beast, be loved, and shall thy soul be slighted? Wilt thou clothe and pamper thy body, and yet take no care of thy soul? This is, as if a man should feed his dog, and starve his child. " Meats for the belly, and the belly for meats; but God will destroy both it and them." O let not a tottering, perishing carcass have all your time and care, as if the life and salvation of thy soul were not worth the while. Lastly, " Meditate much on the strictness and suddenness of that judgment-day, through which thou and I must pass into an everlasting state; wherein God, the impartial judge, will require an account at our hands of all our talents and intrust- ments. " We must then account for time, how we have spent that; for estate, how we have employed that; for strength, how we have laid out that; for af- flictions and mercies, how they have been improved; for the relations we stood in here, how they have been discharorcd; and for seasons and means of grace, how they have been husbanded. And look, how " we have sowed here, we shall reap here- after." 45 Reader, these are things that of all others de- serve most of, and call loudest for, our utmost care and endeavours, though by the most least minded. To consider what a spirit of atheism (if we may judge the tree by the fruits, and the principle by the practice) the hearts of most men are filled with, who live, as if God were not to be served, nor Christ to be sought, nor lust to be mortified, nor self to be denied, nor the scripture to be believed, nor the judgment-day to be minded, nor hell to be feared, nor heaven to be desired, nor the soul to be valued; but give up themselves to a worse than brutish sensuality, " to work all uncleanness with greediness," living without God ui the world — this is a meditation fit enough to break our hearts, if at least we were of holy David's temper, who " beheld the transgressors, and was grieved," and had " rivers of waters running down his eyes, be- cause men kept not God's laws." The prevention and correction of this soul-de- stroying distemper, is not the least design of this Treatise now put into thy hand. Though the chief virtue of this receipt lies in its sovereign use to as- suage and cure the swelling tympany of hypocrisy, yet it may serve also, with God's blessing, as a plaster for the plague-sore of profaneness, if timely applied by serious meditation, and carefully kept on by constant prayer. Reader, expect nothing of curiosity or quaint- ness, for then I shall deceive thee; but if thou wouldst have a touch-stone for the trial of thy state., possibly this may serve thee. If thou art either a 46 Stranger to a profession, or a hypocrite under a pro- fession, then read and tremble, for thou art the raan here pointed at. Mutato nomine de te Fabula narratur. Horat. But if the kingdom of God be come with power into thy soul; if Christ be formed in thee; if thy heart be upright and sincere with God, then read and rejoice. I fear I have transgressed the bounds of an epistle. The mighty God, whose prerogative it is to teach to profit, whether by the tongue or the pen, by speaking or writing, bless this tract, that it may be to thee as a cloud of rain to the dry ground, dropping fatness to thy soul, that so thy fleece be- ing watered with the " dew of heaven," thou raayest *' grow in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ." In whom I am thy Friend and Servant, MATTHEW MEAD. London, October, 1661. THE ALMOST CHRISTIAN DISCOVERED. Almost thou persiiadest me to be a C/iristia?i. Acts xxvi. 28. In this chapter you have the Apostle Paul's apology and defensive plea, which he makes for himself against those blind Jews which so maliciously prose- cuted him before Agrippa, Festus, Bernice, and the council. In which plea he chiefly insists upon three thino-s : 1. The manner of his life before conversion. 2. The manner of his conversion. 3. The manner of his life after conversion. How he lived before conversion, he tells you, ver. 4 — 13. How God wrought on him to conver- sion, he tells you, ver. 13 — 18. How he lived after conversion, he tells you, ver. 19 — 23. Be- fore conversion he was very pharisaicaL The manner of his conversion was very wonderful. The fruit of his conversion was very remarkable. Before conversion he persecuted the gospel which 48 others preached : after conversion, he preached tlie gospel which himself had persecuted. While he was a persecutor of the gospel, the Jews loved him ; hut now that, by the grace of God, he was become a preacher of the gospel, now the Jews hate him, and sought to kill him. He was once against Christ, and then many were for him ; but now that he was for Christ, all were against him ; his being an enemy to Jesus, made others his friends; but when he came to own Jesus, then they became his enemies. And this was the great charge they had against him, that of a great opposer he was become a great professor. Because God had changed him, therefore this enraged them: as if they would be the worse, because God had made him better. God had wrought on him by grace, and they seem to envy him the grace of God. He preached no treason, nor sowed no sedition ; only he preached repentance, and faith in Christ, and the resurrection, and for this he was " called in question." This is the breviate and sum of Paul's defence and plea for himself, which you find in the sequel of the chapter had a different effect upon his judges. Festus seems to censure him, ver. 24. Agrippa seems to be convinced by him, ver. 28. The whole bench seem to acquit him, ver. 30, 31. Festus thinks Paul was beside himself. Agrippa is almost persuaded to be such a one as himself. Festus thinks him mad, because he did not un- derstand the doctrine of Christ and the resurrection: " much learning hath made thee mad." Agrippa is 49 SO afFected with his plea, that he is almost wrought into his principle : Paul pleads so effectually for his religion, that Agrippa seems to be upon the turning point to his profession. " Then Agrippa said to Paul, almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian." " Almost." — The words make some debate among the learned. I shall not trouble you with the various hints upon them by Valla, Simplisius, Beza, Erasmus, and others. I take the words as we read them, and they show what an efficacy Paul's doctrine had upon Agrippa's conscience. Though he would not be converted, yet he could not but be convinced; his conscience was touched, though his heart was not renewed. Observatio7i. There is that in religion, which carries its own evidence along with it even to the consciences of ungodly men. " Thou persuadest me." — The word is from the Hebrew, and it signifies both suadere and persna- dere; either to use arguments to prevail, or to pre- vail by the arguments used. Now it is to be taken in the latter sense here, to show the influence of Paul's argument upon Agrippa, which had almost proselyted him to the profession of Christianity. Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian." A Christian." — I hope I need not tell you what a Christian is, though I am persuaded many that are called Christians, do not know what a Christian is, or if they do, yet they do not know what it is to be a Christian. A Christian is a disciple of Jesus Christ, one that believes in, and follows Christ. As one that embraces the doctrine of Arminius, is C 27 50 called an Arminian; and he that owns the doctrine and way of Luther, is called a Lutheran; so he that embraces, and owns, and follows the doctrine of Jesus Christ, he is called a Christian. The word is taken more largely, and more strict- ly : more largely, and so all that profess Christ come in the flesh, are called Christians, in opposition to heathens that do not know Christ; and to the poor blind Jews, that will not own Christ; and to the Mahometan, that prefers Mahomet, above Christ. But now in Scripture, the word is of a more strict and narrow acceptation, it is used only to denomi- nate the true disciples and followers of Christ; " the disciples were first called Christians at Antioch; if any man suffer as a Christian, let him not be ashamed;" that is, as a member and disciple of Christ; and so in the text, " Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian." The word is used but in these three places, as I find, in all the New Testament, and in each of them it is used in the sense afore-mentioned. The Italians make the name to be a name of re- proach among them, and usually abuse the word Christian to signify a fool. But if, as the apostle saith, " the preaching of Christ is to the world fool- ishness," then it is no wonder that the disciples of Christ are to the world fools. Yet it is true, in a sound sense, that so they are; for the whole of godliness is a mystery. A man must die, that would live ; he must be empty, that would be full; he must be lost, that would be found; he must have nothing, that would have all things ; he must be blind, that would ^1 liave illumination; he must be condemned, that would have redemption; so he must be a fool, that would be a Christian. " If any man among you seems to be wise, let him become a fool, that he may be wise." He is the true Christian that is the world's fool, but wise to salvation. Thus you have the sense and meaning of the words briefly explained. The text needs no di- vision, and yet it is a pity the almost should not be divided from the Christian, Though it is of little avail to divide them as they are linked in the text, unless I could divide them as they are united in your hearts; this would be a blessed division, if the almost might be taken from the Christian: that so you may not be only propemodum^ but admodiwi; not only almost, but altogether Christians. This is God's work to effect it, but is our duty to persuade to it; and O that God would help me to manage this subject so, that you may say, in the conclusion, " Thou persuadest me, not almost, but altogether to be a Christian !" The observation that I shall propound to handle is this: Doctrine, There are very many in the world that are almost,and yet but almost Christians ; many that are near heaven, and yet are never the nearer* many that are within a little of salvation, and yet shall never enjoy the least salvation; they are within sight of heaven, and yet shall never have a sight of God. There are two sad expressions in scripture, which I cannot but take notice of in this place. The oiie C2 r^o is concerning the truly righteous. The other is concerning the seemingly righteous. It is said of the truly righteous, he shall " scarcely be saved;" and it is said of the seemingly righteous, he shall be almost saved : " Thou art not far from the kingdom of God." The righteous shall be saved with a scarcely^ that is, through much difficulty; he shall go to heaven through many sad fears of hell. The hypocrite shall be saved with an almost, that is, he shall go to hell through many fair hopes of heaven. There are two things which arise from hence of very serious meditation. The one is, how often a believer may miscarry, how low he may fall, and yet have true grace. The other is, how far a hypo- crite may go in the way to heaven, how high he may attain, and yet have no grace. The saint may be cast down very near to hell, and yet shall never come there; and the hypocrite may be lifted up very near to heaven, and yet never come there. The saint may almost perish, and yet be saved eternally; the hypocrite may almost be sav- ed, and yet perish finally. For the saint at worst is really a believer, and the hypocrite at best is really a sinner. Before I handle the doctrine, I must premise three things, which are of great use for the esta- blishing of weak believers, that they may not be shaken and discouraged by this doctrine. First, There is nothing in the doctrine that should be matter of stumbling or discouragement to weak Christians. The gospel doth not speak these 5S things to wound believers, but to awaken sinners and formal professors. As there are none more averse than weak believ- ers, to apply the promises and comforts of the gospel to themselves, for whom they are properly designed; so there are none more ready than they to apply the threats and severest things of the word to themselves, for whom they were never intended. As the dis- ciples, when Christ told them, " One of you shall betray me;" they that were innocent suspected them- selves most, and therefore cry out, " Master, is it I ?" So weak Christians, when they hear sinners reproved, or the hypocrite laid open, in the ministry of the word, they presently cry out, " Is it I?" It is the hypocrite's fault to sit under the trials and discoveries of the word, and yet not to mind them: and it is the weak Christian's fault to draw sad conclusions of their own state from premises which nothing concern them. There is indeed great use of such doctrine as this is to all believers: 1. To make them look to their standing, upon what foundation they are, and to see that the foun- dation of their hope be well laid, that they build not upon the sand, but upon a rock. 2. It helps to raise our admiration of the dis- tinguishing love of God, in bringing us into the way everlasting, when so many perish from the way, and in overpowering our souls into a true conver- sion, when so many take up with a graceless pro- fession. 3. It incites to that excellent duty of heart- 54 searching, that so we approve ourselves to God in sincerity. 4. It engages the soul in double diligence, that it may be found not only believing, but persevering in faith to the end. These duties, and such as these, make this doc- trine of use to all believers; but they ought not to make use of it as a stumbling-block in the way of their peace and comfort. My design in preaching on this subject, is not to make sad the souls of those whom Christ will not have made sad; I would bring water not to " quench the flax that is smoking," but to put out that false fire that is of the sinner's own kindling, lest walking all his days by the light thereof, he shall at last " lie down in sorrow." My aim is to level the mountain of the sinner's confidence, not to weaken the hand of the believer's faith and dependence; to avvaken and brinop in secure formal sinners, not to discourage weak believers. Secondly, I would premise this; though many may go far, very far in the way to heaven, and yet fall short, yet that soul that hath the least true grace shall never fall short; " the righteous shall hold on his way." Though some may do very much in a way of duty, as I shall show hereafter, and yet miscarry; yet that soul that doth duty with the least sincerity, shall never miscarry; " for he saveth the upright in heart." The least measure of true grace is as saving as the greatest; it saves as surely, though not so com- 55 fortably. The least grace gives a full interest in the blood of Christ, whereby we are thoroughly purged; and it gives a full interest in the strength and power of Christ, whereby we shall be certainly preserved. Christ keeps faith in the soul, and faith keeps the soul in Clirist; and so " we are kept by the power of God, through faith unto salvation." Thirdli/^ I would premise this; they that can hear such truths as this, without serious reflection and self-examination, I must suspect the goodness of their condition. You will suspect that man to be next door to a bankrupt, that never casts up his accounts nor looks over his book; and I as verily think that man a hypocrite, that never searches nor deals with his own heart. He that goes on in a road of duties without any uneasiness or doubting of his state, I doubt no man's state more than his. When we see a man sick, and yet not sensible, we conclude the tokens of death are upon him. So when sinners have no sense of their spiritual condi- tion, it is plain that they are dead in sin ; the tokens of eternal death are upon them. These things be- ing premised, which I desire you would carry along in your mind while we travel through this subject, I come to speak to the proposition more distinctly and closely. Doctrine. That there are very many in the world that are almost, and yet hut almost Christians. I shall demonstrate the truth of the proposition, and then proceed to a more distinct prosecution. 56 1. I shall demonstrate the truth of the proposi- tion; and I shall do it by scripture-evidence, which speaks plainly and fully to the case. First, The young man in the gospel is an emi- nent proof of this truth; there you read of one that came to Christ to learn of him the way to heaven : '* Good Master, what good thing shall I do, that I may have eternal life?" Our Lord Christ tells him, " If thou wilt enter into life, keep the command- ments:" and when Christ tells him which, he answers, " Lord, all these I have kept from my youth up; what lack I yet?" Now do but see how far this man went. L He obeyed — he did not only hear the com- mands of God, but he kept them ; now the Scripture saith, " Blessed is he that hears the word of God, and keeps it." 2. He obeyed universally — not this or that com- mand, but both this and that; he did not halve it with God, or pick and choose which were easiest to be done, and leave the rest; no, but he obeys all: " All these things have I kept." 3. He obeyed constantly — not in a fit of zeal only, but in a continual series of duty; his goodness was not, as Ephraim's, " like the morning-dew that passes away;" no, " All these things have I kept from my youth up." 4. He professeth his desire to know and do more— - to perfect that which was lacking of his obedience : and therefore he goes to Christ to instruct him in his duty: " Master, what lack I yet?" Now would you not think this a good man? Alas! how few go this 57 far? And yet as far as he went, lie went not far enough ; " he was almost, and yet but almost a Christian;" for he was an unsound hypocrite; he forsakes Christ at last, and cleaves to his lust. This then is a full proof of the truth of the doctrine. Second, A second proof of it is that of the par- able of the virgins in St. Matthew : see what a pro- gress they make, how far they go in a profession of Christ. 1. They are called " virgins." — Now this is a name given in the Scripture, Both in the Old Testament and the New, to the saints of Christ: " The virgins love thee:" so in the revelation, the " one hundred forty and four thousand" that stood with the Lamb on mount Zion, are called "virgins." They are called virgins, because they are not defiled with the *' cor- ruptions that are in the world through lust." Now these here seem to be of that sort, for they are called virgins. 2. They take their lamps — that is, they make a profession of Christ. 3. They had some kind of oil in their lamps. They had some convictions and some faith, though not the faith of God's elect, to keep their profession alive, to keep the lamp burning. 4. They went — their profession was not an idle profession; they did perform duties, frequented or- dinances, and did many things commanded : they made a progress — they went. 5. They went forth — they went and outwent, they left many behind them ; this speaks out their separation from the world. C3 58 6. They went with the " wise virgins" — they joined themselves to those who had joined them- selves to the Lord, and were companions of them that were companions of Christ. 7. They go " forth to meet the hridegroom"— this speaks out their owning and seeking after Christ. 8. When they heard the cry of the hridegroom coming, " they arose and trimmed their lamps;" they profess Christ more highly, hoping now to go in with the bridegroom. 9. They sought for true grace. Now do not we say, the desires of grace are grace ? and so they are, if true and timely ; if sound and seasonable. Why lo here a desire of grace in these virgins, " Give us of your oil." It was a desire of true grace, but it was not a true desire of grace; it was not true, because not timely ; unsound, as being unseasonable ; it was too late. Their folly was in not taking oil when they took their lamps; their time of seeking grace was when they came to Christ ; it was too late to seek it when Christ came to them. They should have sought for that when they took up their profession : it was too late to seek it at the coming of the bride- groom. And therefore " they were shut out ;" and though they cry for entrance, *' Lord, Lord, open to us;" yet the Lord Christ tells them, " I know you not." You see how far these virgins go in a profession of Jesus Christ, and how long they continue in it, even till the bridegroom came; they go to the very door of heaven, and there, like the Sodomites, perish 50 with their lianils upon the very threshold of glory. They were almost Christians, and yet but almost ; almost saved, and yet perish. You that are professors of the gospel of Christ, stand and tremhle: if they that have gone beyond us fall short of heaven, what shall become of us that fall short of them ? If tliey that are virgins, that profess Christ, that have some faith in their profes- sion, such as it is, that have some fruit in their faith, that outstrip others that seek Christ, that improve their profession, and suit themselves to their profes- sion — nay, that seek grace ; if such as these be but almost Christians, Lord, what are we ? Thirds If these two witnesses be not sufficient to prove the truth, and confirm the credit of the pro- position, take a third; and that shall be from the Old Testament, Isaiah Iviii. 2. See what God saith of that people; he gives them a very high char- acter for a choice people, one would think : " They seek me daily ; they delight to know my ways, as a nation that did righteousness, and forsook not the ordinance of their God; they ask of me the ordin- ances of justice; they take delight in approaching to God." See how far these went; if God had not said they were rotten and unsound, we should have taken them for the " he-goats before the flock," and ranked them among the worthies. Pray observe, 1. They seek God. — Now this is the proper character of a true saint— to seek God. True saints are called, " seekers of God." ** This is the gen- eration of them that seek him, that seek thy face. 60 O Jacob ;" or, O God of Jacob. Lo, here a gen- eration of them that seek God; and are not these the saints of God ? — Nay, farther, 2. They seek him daily. — Here is dihgence backed with continuance, day by day; that is, every day, from day to day. They did not seek him by fits and starts, nor in a time of trouble and affliction only, as many do. *' Lord, in trouble have they visited thee ; they poured out a prayer when thy chastening was upon them." Many when God visits them, then they visit him, but not till then; when God poureth out his afflictions, then they pour out their supplications. This is seamen's devotion; when the storms have brouglit them to " their wits* end, then they cry to the Lord in their trouble." Many never cry to God, till they are at their wits* end ; they never come to God for help, so long as they can help themselves. But now these here, whom God speaks of, are more zealous in their de- votion ; the others make a virtue of necessity, but these seem to make conscience of duty; for, saith God, " they seek me daily." Sure this is, one would think, a note of sincerity. Job saith of the hypocrite, " Will he always call upon God?" Surely not; but now this people call upon God always, " they seek him daily:" certainly these are no hypocrites. 3. Saith God, " they delight to know my ways." Sure this frees them from the suspicion of hypocrisy; for, they say not unto God, " Depart from us; we desire not the knowledge of thy ways." 4. They are " as a nation that did righteousness." 61 Not only as a nation that spake righteousness, or knew righteousness, or professed righteousness; but as a nation that did righteousness, that practised nothing but wliat was just and riglit. They ap- peared, to the judgment of the world, as good as the best. 5. They forsook not the ordinances of their God. —They seem true to their principles, constant to their profession, better than many among us, that cast off duties, and forsake the ordinances of God: but these hold out in their profession; " they for- sook not the ordinances of God." 6. " They ask of me," saith God, " the ordinances of justice." They will not make their own will the rule of riffht and wroncr, but the law and will of God: and therefore, in all their dealings with men, they desire to be guided and counselled by God: " They ask of me the ordinances of justice." 7. They take delight in approaching to God* Sure this cannot be the guise of a hypocrite. " Will he delight himself in the almighty?" saith Job: — no, he will not. Though God is the chief delight of man, (having every thing in him to render him lovely, as was said of Titus Vespasian,) yet the hypocrites will not delight in God. Till the affec- tions are made spiritual, there is no affection to things that are spiritual. God is a spiritual good, and there- fore hypocrites cannot delight in God. But these are a people that delight in approaching to God. 8. They were a people that were much in fasting: " Wherefore have we fasted," say they, " and thou seest not?" Now this is a duty that doth not sup- 62 pose and require truth of grace only in the heart, but strength of grace. " No man," saith our Lord Christ, " puts new wine into old bottles, lest the bottles break and the wine run out." New wine is strong, and old bot- tles weak; and the strong wine breaks the weak ves- sel: this is a reason Christ gives, why his disciples, who were newly converted, and but weak as yet, were not exercised with this austere discipline. But this people here mentioned were a people that fasted often, afflicted their souls much, wore themselves out by frequent practices of humiliation. Sure therefore this was " new wine in new bottles;" this must needs be a people strong in grace; there seems to be grace not only in truth, but also in growth. And yet, for all this, they were no better than a generation of hypocrites; they made a goodly progress, and went far, but yet they went not far enough; they were cast off by God after all. I hope by this time the truth of the point is suffi- ciently avouched and confirmed; " that a man may be, yea, very many are, almost, and yet no more than hut almost Christians." Now for the more distinct prosecution of the point, 1. I shall show you, step by step, how far he may go, to what attainments he may reach, how spe- cious and singular a progress he may make in reli- gion, and yet be but almost a Christian when all is done. 2. I will show whence it is, that many men go so far as that they are almost Christians. 63 3. Why they are but almost Christians when they have gone thus far. 4. What the reason is, why men that go thus far as to be almost Christians, yet go no farther than to be almost Christians. Question I. How far may a man go in tlie way to heaven, and t be but almost a Christian ? Answer. This I will show you in twenty several steps. I. A man may have much knowledge, much light; he may know much of God and his will, much of Christ and his ways, and yet be but almost a Chris- tian. For though there can be no grace without know- ledge, yet there may be much knowledge where there is no grace: illumination often goes before, when conversion never follows after. The subject of knowledge is the understanding; the subject of holiness is the will. Now a man may have his un- derstanding enlightened, and yet his will not at all sanctified. He may have an understanding to know God, and yet want a will to obey God. The apostle tells us of some, that, " when they knew God, they glorified him not as God." To make a man altogether a Christian, there must be hght in the head, and heat in the heart; knowledge in the understanding, and zeal in the af- fections. Some have zeal and no knowledge; that 64 is, blind devotion: some have knowledge and no zeal; that is, fruitless speculation: but where knowledge is joined with zeal, that makes a true Christian. Objection, But is it not said, " This is life eter- nal — to know thee, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom thou hast sent?" Answer. It is not every knowledge of God and Christ, that interests the soul in life eternal. For why then do the devils perish; they have more know- ledge of God than all the men in the world; for though, by their fall, they lost their holiness, yet they lost not their knowledge. They are called c/'az/zocec, from their knowledge, and yet they are \ia.QoKoi, from their malice, devils still. Knowledge may fill the head, but it will never better the heart, if there be not somewhat else. The Pharisees had much knowledge: " Behold, thou art called a Jew, and restest in the law, and makest thy boast of God, and knowest his will,"&c. and yet they were a generation of hypocrites. Alas ! how many have gone loaded with knowledge to hell ! Though it is true, that it is life eternal to know God and Jesus Christ; yet it is as true, that many do know God and Jesus Christ, that shall never see life eternal. There is, you must know, a twofold knowledge; the one is common, but not saving; the other is not common, but saving: common knowledge is that which floats in the head, but does not influ- ence the heart. This knowledge, reprobates may have: " Balaam savv Christ from the top of the rocks, and from the hills." Naturahsts say, that there is a pearl in the toad's 65 head, and yet her belly is full of poison. The French have a berry which they call uve de spine, the grape of a thorn. The common knowledge of Christ is the pearl in the toad's head — the grape that grows upon thorns; it may be found in men un- sanctified. And then there is a saving knowledge of God and Christ, which includes the assent of the mind, and the consent of the will; this is a knowledge that im- plies faith: " By his knowledge shall my righteous servant justify many." And this is that knowledge which leads to life eternal: now whatever that mea- sure of knowledge is, which a man may have of God, and of Jesus Christ, yet if it be not this saving knowledge — knowledge joined with affection and application — he is but almost a Christian. He only knows God aright, who knows how to obey him, and obeys according to his knowledge of him: " A good understanding have all they that do his commandments." All knowledo-e without this makes a man but like Nebuchadnezzar's image, with " a head of gold, and feet of clay." Some know, but to. know. Some know, to be known. Some know, to practise what they know. Now to know, but to know — that is curiosity. To know, to be known — that is vain glory. But to know, to practise what we know — that is gospel-duty. This makes a man a complete Chris- tian; the other, without this, makes a man almost, and yet but almost a Christian. 66 II. A man may have great and eminent gifts, yea, spiritual gifts, and yet be but almost a Chris- tian. The gift of prayer is a spiritual gift. Now this a man may have, and yet be but almost a Christian: for the gift of prayer is one thing; the grace of prayer is another. The gift of preaching and pro- phesying is a spiritual gift; now this a man may have, and yet be but almost a Christian. Judas was a great preacher; so were they that came to Christ, and said, " Lord, Lord, we have prophesied in thy name, and in thy name have cast out devils," &c. You must know that it is not gifts, but grace, which makes a Christian: For, 1. Gifts are from a common work of the Spirit. Now a man may partake of all the common gifts of the Spirit, and yet be a reprobate ; for therefore they are called common, because they are indifFeiently dispensed by the Spirit to good and bad; to them that are believers, and to them that are not. They that have grace, have gifts; and they that have no grace, may have the same gifts; for the Spirit works in both; nay in this sense he that hath no grace, may be under a greater work of the Spirit [quod hoc) as to this thing, than he that hath most grace; a graceless professor may have greater gifts than the most holy believer : he may out-pray, and out-preach, and out-do them ; but they in sincerity and integrity out-go him. 2. Gifts are for the use and good of others, they are given m ordinem almm, as the school-men speak, for the profiting and edifying of others: so says the 67 apostle, " they are given to profit withal." Now a man may edify another hy his gifts, and yet be un- edified himself; he may be profitable to another, and yet unprofitable to himself. The raven was an unclean bird: God makes use of her to feed Elijah; though she was not good meat, yet it was good meat she brought. A lame man may with his crutch point to thee the right way, and yet not be able to walk in it himself. A crooked taylor may make a suit to fit a straight body, though it fit not him that made it, because of his crookedness. The church (Christ's garden enclosed) may be wa- tered through a wooden gutter; the sun may give light through a dusky window ; and the field may be well sowed vvith a dirty hand. The efficacy of the word doth not depend upon the authority of him that speaks it, but upon the authority of God that blesses it. So that another may be converted by my preaching, and yet I may be cast away notwithstanding. Balaam makes a clear and rare prophecy of Christ, and yet he hath no benefit by Christ: " There shall come a star out of Jacob, and a sceptre shall rise out of Israel;" — but yet Balaam shall have no benefit by it: "I shall see him, but not now; I shall behold him, but not nigh." God may use a man's gifts to bring another to Christ, when he himself, whose gifts God uses, may be a stranger unto Christ; one man may confirm another in the faith, and yet himself may be a stran- ger to the faith. Pendleton strengthens and con- firms Sanders, in Queen Mary's days, to stand in 68 the truth he had preached, and to seal it with his blood, and yet afterwards plays the apostate himself. Scultetus tells us of one Johannes Speiserus, a famous preacher of Augsburg in Germany, in the year 1523, who preached the gospel so powerfully that divers common harlots were converted, and be- came good Christians; and yet himself afterwards turned papist and came to a miserable end. Thus the candle may burn bright to light others in tlieir work, and yet afterwards go out in a stink. 3. It is beyond the power of the greatest gifts to change the heart; a man may preach like an apostle, pray like an angel, and yet may have the heart of a devil. It is grace only that can change the heart; the greatest gifts cannot change it, but the least grace can; gifts may make a man a scholar, but grace makes a man a believer. Now if gifts cannot change the heart, then a man may have tlie greatest gifts, and yet be but almost a Christian. 4. Many have gone laden with gifts to hell; no doubt Judas had great gifts, for he was a preacher of the gospel; and our Lord Jesus Christ would not set him to work, and not fit him for the work; yet " Judas is gone to his own place:" the Scribes and Pharisees were men of great gifts, and yet, " where is the wise? where is the scribe?" " The preaching of the cross is to them that per- ish foolishness." Them that perish, who are they? Who! the wise and the learned, both among Jews and Greeks; these are called " them that perish." A great bishop said, when he saw a poor shepherd weeping over a toad: " The poor iUiterate world at- 69 tain to heaven, while we with all our learning fall into hell." There are three thin<^s must be clone for us, if ever we would avoid perishing. We must be thoroughly convinced of sin. We must be really united to Christ. W'e must be instated in the covenant of grace. Now, the greatest gifts cannot stead us in any of these. They cannot work thorough convictions. They cannot effect our union. They cannot bring us into covenant-relation. And consequently, they cannot preserve us from eternally perishing; and if so, then a man may have the greatest gifts, and yet be but almost a Christian. 5. Gifts may decay and perish; they do not lie beyond the reach of corruption; indeed grace shall never perish, but gifts will; grace is incorruptible, though gifts are not; grace is " a spring, whose waters fail not," but the streams of gifts may be dried up. If grace be corruptible in its own nature, as being but a creature, yet it is incorruptible in re- gard of its conserver, as being the ?iew creature; he that did create it in us, will conserve it in us; he that did begin it will also finish it. Gifts have their root in nature, but grace hath its roots in Christ; and therefore though gifts may die and wither, yet grace shall abide for ever. Now if gifts are perishing, then, though he that hath the least grace is a Christian, he that hath the greatest gifts may be but almost a Christian. Objection. But doth not the Apostle bid us 70 " covet earnestly the best gifts?" Why must we covet them, and covet them earnestly, if they avail not to salvation? Ans'wer. Gifts are good, though they are not the best good; they are excellent, but there is somewhat more excellent: so it follows in the same verse, " Yet I show unto you a more excellent way," and that is the way of grace. One dram of grace is more worth than a talent of gifts: gifts may make us rich towards men, but it is grace that makes us " rich towards God." Our gifts profit others, but grace profits ourselves; that whereby I profit another is good, but that by which I am profited myself is better. Now because gifts are good, therefore we ought to covet them; but because they are not the best good, therefore we ought not to rest in them, we must covet gifts for the good of others, that they may be edified; and we must covet grace for the good of our own souls, that they may be saved; for whosoever be bettered by our gifts, yet we shall miscarry without grace. III. A man may have a high profession of re- ligion, be much hi external duties of godliness, and yet be hut almost a Christian. Mark what our Lord tells them, " Not every one that saith unto me. Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven;" that is, not every one that makes a profession of Christ, shall therefore be owned for a true disciple of Christ. " All are not Israel that are of Israel;" nor are all Christians that make a profession of religion. What a godly profession had Judas ! he followed 71 Christ, left all for Christ, he preached the gospel of Christ, he cast out devils in the name of Christ, he eat and drank at the table of Christ; and yet Judas was but a hypocrite. Most professors are like lilies, fair in show, ]^ but foul in scent; or like pepper, hot in the mouth, but cold in the stomach. The finest lace may be upon the coarsest cloth. It is a great deceit to measure the substance of our religion by the bulk of our profession, and to judge of the strength of our graces by the length of our duties. The Scriptures speak of some who having " a form of godliness, yet deny the power thereof." Deny the power; that is, they do not live in the practice of those graces to which they pretend in their duties; he that pretends to godliness by a specious profession, and yet doth not practise godliness by a holy conversation, " he hath a form, but denies the power." Grotius compares such to the ostrich, which hath great wings, but yet flies not. Many have the wings of a fair profession, but yet use them not to mount upward in spiritual affections, and a heavenly conversation. But to clear the truth of this, that a man may make a high profession of religion, and yet be but almost a Christian, take a fourfold evidence. 1. If a man may profess religion, and yet never have his heart changed, nor his state bettered, then he may be a great professor, and yet be but almost a Christian. But a man may profess religion, and yet never have his heart changed, nor his state renewed. He may be a constant hearer of the word, 72 and yet be a sinner still ; he may come often to the Lord's table, and yet go away a sinner as he came; we must not think that duties can confer grace. Many a soul hath been converted by Christ in au ordinance, but never was any soul converted by an ordinance without Christ. And doth Christ convert all that sit under the ordinances? Surely not; for to some, " the word is a savour of death unto death." And if so, then it is plain, that a man may profess religion, and yet be but almost a Chris- tian. 2. A man may profess religion, and live in a form of godliness in hypocrisy. " Hear ye this, O house of Jacob, which are called by the name of Israel, and are come forth out of the waters of Judah; which swear by the name of the Lord, and make mention of the God of Israel, but not in truth, nor in righteousness." What do you think of these? '5 They make mention of the name of the Lord, there is their profession but not in truth ; nor in righteousness," there is their dissimulation: and in- deed there could be no hypocrisy in a religious sense, were it not for a profession of religion; for he that is wicked and carnal, and vile inwardly, and appears to be so outwardly, he is no hypocrite, but is what he appears, and appears what he is. But he that is one thing really, and another thing seemingly, is carnal and unholy, and yet seems to be good and holy, he is a hypocrite. . Thus the Casuists define hypocrisy to be a coun- terfeiting of holiness; and this fits exactly with the Greek word, which is to counterfeit. And to this 73 purpose, the Hebrews have two words for hypocrites; paninty which signifies faces-, and chanepim, which signifies counterfeits ; from chanapli^ to dissemble: so that he is a hypocrite that dissembles religion, and weareth the face of* holiness, and yet is without the grace of holiness. He appears to be in semblance, what he is not in substance; he wears a form of godliness without, only as a cover of a profane heart within. He hath a profession, that he may not be thought wicked ; but it is but a profession, and therefore he is wicked. He is the religious hypo- crite; religious, because he pretends to it; and yet a hypocrite, because he doth but pretend to it. He is like many men in a consumption, that have fresh looks, and yet rotten lungs: or like an apple that hath a fair skin, but a rotten core. Many ap- pear righteous, who are only righteous in appearance. And if so, then a man may profess religion, and yet be hut almost a Christian. 3. Custom and fashion may make a man a pro- fessor; as you have many that wear this or that garb, not because it keeps them warmer, or hath any ex- cellency in it more than another, but merely for fashion. Many must have powdered hair, spotted faces, feathers in their caps, &c. for no other end, but be- cause they would be fools in fashion. So, many profess Christianity — not because the means of grace warm the heart, or that they see any excellencies in the ways of God above the world, but — merely to follow the fashion ! I wish I might not say, it hath been true of our days, because religion hath been D 27 74 uppermost, therefore many have professed; it hath been the gaining trade, and then most will be of that trade. Religion in credit makes many professors, but few proselytes; but when religion suffers, then its confessors are no more than its converts; for custom makes the former, but conscience the latter. He that is a professor of religion merely for custom- sake, when it prospers, will never be a martyr, for Christ's sake, when religion suffers. He that owns the truth, to live upon that, will disown it, when it comes to live upon him. They say, that when a house is decaying or fall- ing, all the rats and mice will forsake it; while the house is firm, and they may shelter in the roof, they will stay, but no longer; lest, in the decay, the fall should be upon them, and they that lived at top should die at bottom. My brethren, may I not say, we have many that are the vermin, the rats and mice of religion, that would live under the roof of it, while they might have shelter in it; but when it suffers, forsake it, lest it should fall, and the fall should be upon them? I am persuaded this is not the least reason why God hath brought the wheel upon the profession of religion; namely to rid it of the vermin. He shakes the foundations of the house, that these rats and mice may quit the roof; not to overturn it, but to rid them of it; as the husbandman fans the wheat, that he may get rid of the chaff. The halcyon days of the gospel provoke hypocrisy, but the sufferings for religion prove sincerity. Now, then, if custom and fashion make many 75 men professors, then a man may profess religion, and yet be but almost a Christian. 4. If many may perish under a profession of godliness, then a man may profess religion and yet be but almost a Christian. Now, the scripture is clear, that a man may per- ish under the highest profession of religion. Christ cursed the fig-tree, that had leaves and no fruit. It is said, that " the children of the kingdom shall be cast out into outer darkness.'* Who were these, but they that were then the only people of God in the world by profession, that had made a " covenant with him by sacrifice" — and yet these were cast out. In St. Matthew, you read of some that came and made boast of their profession to Christ, hoping that might save them. " Lord," say they, " have we not prophesied in thy name, cast out devils in thy name, done many wonderful works in thy name?" Now what saith our Lord Christ to this? " Then I will profess unto them, I never knew you; depart from Mark, here are them that prophesy in his name, and yet perish in his wrath ; in his name cast out devils, and then are cast out themselves; in his name do many wonderful works, and yet perish for wicked workers. The profession of religion will no more keep a man from perishing, than calling a ship the Safe-guard, or the Good-speedy will keep her from drowning. As many go to heaven with the fear of hell in their hearts, so many go to hell with the name of Christ in their mouths. Now then, if many may perish under a profession of godliness, then may a D 2 76 man be a high professor of religion, and yet be hut almost a Christian. Objection, But is it not said by the Lord Christ himself, " He that confesses me before men, him will I confess before my Father in heaven?" Now, for Christ to say, he will confess us before the Father, is equivalent to a promise of eternal life: for if Jesus Christ confess us, God the Father will never disown us. True, they that confess Christ, shall be confessed by him; and it is as true, that this confession is equi- valent to a promise of salvation. But now you must know, that professing Christ, is not confessing him; for to profess Christ is one thing — to coiifess Christ is another. Confession is a living testimony for Christ, in a time when religion suffers; profes- sion may be only a lifeless formality, in a time when religion prospers. To confess Christ, is to choose his ways, and own them. To profess Christ, is to plead for his ways, and yet live beside them. Profession may be from a feigned love to the ways of Christ; but confession is from a rooted love to the person of Christ. To profess Christ, is to own him when none deny him ; to confess Christ, is to plead for him, and suffer for him, when others op- pose him. Hypocrites may be professors ; but the martyrs are the true confessors. Profession is a swimming down the stream. Confession is a swim- ming against the stream. Now many may swim with the stream, like the dead fish, that cannot swim against the stream, with the living fish. Many may profess Christ, that cannot confess Christ ; and so, 77 notwithstanding their profession, yet are hut almost Christians. IV. To come yet nearer; a man may go far in opposing his sin, and yet be but almost a Christian. How far a man may go in this work, I shall show you in seven gradual instances. First, A man may be convinced of sin, and yet be hut almost a Christian: for, 1. Conviction may be rational, as well as spiritual; it may be from a natural conscience enlightened by the word, without the effectual work of the Spirit, applying sin to the heart. 2. Convictions may be worn out; they many times go off, and end not in sound conversion. Saith the church, " We have been with child, we have been in pain, we have brought forth wind.'' This is the complaint of the church, in reference to the unprofitableness of their afflictions; and it may be the complaint in most, in reference to the un*- profitableness of their convictions. 3. Many take conviction of sin, to be conversion from sin ; and to sit down and rest in their convic- tions. That is a sad complaint God makes of Ephraim: " Ephraim is an unwise son; for he should not stay long in the place of the breaking forth of children." Now then, if convictions may be only from natural conscience; if they may be worn out, or may be mistaken, and rested in for conver- sion, then a man may have convictions, and be hut ahnost a Christian. Secondly, A man may mourn for sin, and yet be hut almost a Christian. So did Saul; so did 78 Esau, for the loss of his birthright, which was his sin, and therefore he is called, by the Spirit of God, "profane Esau;" yet, " he sought it again carefully with tears." Objection. But doth not Christ pronounce them blessed that mourn? " Blessed are they that mourn." Sure then, if a man mourn for sin, he is in a good condition: you see, saith Nazienzen, that salvation is joined with sorrow. Solution. I answer, it is true, that they who mourn for sin, in the sense Christ there speaks of, are blessed ; but all mourning for sin, doth not there- fore render us blessed. 1. True mourning for sin must flow from spiri- tual convictions of the evil, and vileness, and dam- nable nature of sin. Now, all that mourn for sin, do not do it from a thorough work of spiritual con- viction upon the soul ; they have not a right sense of the evil and vileness of sin. 2. True mourning for sin, is more for the evil that is in sin, than the evil that comes by sin ; more because it dishonours God, and wounds Christ, and grieves the Spirit, and makes the soul unlike God, than because it damns the soul. Now there are many that mourn for sin, not so much for the evil that is in it, as for the evil that it brings with it; there is mourning for sin in hell; you read of " weep- ing and wailing" there. The damned are weeping and mourning to eternity; there, is all sorrow, and no comfort. As in heaven there is peace without trouble, joy without mourning; so in hell there is trouble without peace, mourning without joy, weep- 79 ing and wailing incessantly: but it is for the evil they feel by sin, and not for the evil that is in sin: so that a man may mourn for sin, and yet be hut almost a Christian : it may grieve him to think of perishing for sin, when it does not grieve him that he is de- filed and polluted by sin. Thirdly, A man may make large confession of sin, to God, to others, and yet be hut almost a Christian. How ingenuously doth Saul confess his sin to David? " 1 have sinned,'* saith he, " thou art more righteous than I ! Behold, I have played the fool, and have erred exceedingly." So Judas makes a full confession : " I have sinned in betraying inno- cent blood." Yet Saul and Judas were both re- jected of God ; so that a man may confess sin, and yet be hut almost a Christian. Objection. But is not confession of sin a charac- ter of a child of God? Doth not the apostle say, " If we confess our sins, God is just and faithful to for- give them:" no man was ever kept out of heaven for his confessed badness, though many are kept out of heaven for their supposed goodness. Judah, in Hebrew, signifies confession ; now Judah got the kingdom from Reuben ; confession of sin is the way to the kingdom of heaven. There are some that confess sin, and are saved ; there are others that confess sin, and perish. 1. Many confess sin merely out of custom, and not out of conscience; you shall have many that will never pray, but they will make a long confession of sin, and yet never feel the weight or burden of it upon their consciences. 80 2. Many will confess lesser sins, and yet coticeal greater; like the patient in Plutarch, that complained to his physician of his finger, when his liver was rotten. 3. Many will confess sin in the general, or con- fess themselves sinners; and yet see little, and say less of their particular sins ; an implicit confession, as one saith, is almost as bad as an implicit faith. Where confession is right, it will be distinct, es- pecially of those sins that were our chief sins. So David confesses his blood-guiltiness and adultery : so Paul his blasphemy, persecution, and injury against the saints. It is bad to hear men confess they are great sinners, and yet cannot confess their sins. Though the least sin be too bad to be com- mitted, yet there is no sin too bad to be confessed. 4. Many will confess sin, but it is only under ex- tremity, that is, not free and voluntary. Pharaoh confesses his sin, but it was when judgment com- pelled him. " I have sinned against the Lord," saith he; but it was when he had had eight plagues upon him. 5. Many do by their sins as mariners do by their goods, cast them out in a storm, wishing for them again in a calm. Confession should come like water out of a spring, which runs freely; not like water out of a still, which is forced by fire. 6. Many confess their sins, but with no intent to forsake sin; they confess the sins they have com- mitted, but do not leave the sins they have confessed. Many men use their confession as Lewis the eleventh of France did his crucifix; he would swear 81 an oath, and then kiss it; and swear again, and then kiss it again. So many sin, and then confess they do not well, but yet never strive to do better. Mr. Torsel tells a story of a minister he knew, that would be often drunk, and when he came into the pulpit, would confess it very lamentingly; and yet no sooner was he out of the pulpit, but he would be drunk again; and this would he do as constantly as men follow their trades. Now then, if a man may confess sin merely out of custom ; if he may confess lesser sins, and yet conceal greater; if he may confess sin only in the general, or only under extremity, or if lie may con- fess sin without any intent to forsake sin, then surely a man may confess sin, and yet be hut almost a Christian. Fourthly, A man may forsake sin, and yet be hut almost a Christian; he may leave his lust, and his wicked ways, which he sometimes lived in, and in the judgment of the world become a new man, and yet not be a new creature. Simon Magus, when he hears Philip preaching concerning the king- dom of God, leaves his sorcery and witchcraft, and believes. Ohjection. But you will say, this seems contrary to scripture; for he that says, " He that confesseth and forsaketh sin, shall have mercy :" but I confess sin, yea, not only so, but also I forsake sin ; sure therefore this mercy is my portion, it belongs to me. Answe?\ It is true, that where a soul forsakes sin from a right principle, after a right manner, to a right end; where he forsakes sin as sin, as being D3 82 contrary to God, and the purity of his nature^ — this declares that soul to be right with God, and the pro- raise shall be made good to it, " He shall find mercy." But now pray mind, there is a forsaking sin that is not right, but unsound. 1. Open sins may be deserted, and yet secret sins may be retained; now this is not a right forsaking; such a soul shall never find mercy. A man may be cured of a wound in his flesh, and yet may die of aii imposthume in his bowels. 2. A man may forsake sin, but not as sin; for he that forsakes sin as sin, forsakes all sin. It is im- possible for a man to forsake sin as sin, unless he forsakes all that he knows to be sin. 3. A man may let one sin go, to hold another the faster; as a man that goes to sea, would willingly save all his goods; but if the storm arises that he cannot, then he throws some over-board to lighten the vessel, and save the rest. So did they. Acts ?ixvii. 38. So the sinner cliooses to keep all his sins; but if a storm arises in his conscience, why then he will heave one lust over-board, to save the life of another. 4. A man may let all sin go, and yet be a sinner still; for there is the root of all sin in the heart, though the fruit be not seen in the life: the tree lives, though the boughs be lopped off. As a man is a sinner, before ever he acts sin, so (till grace renews him) he is a sinner, though he leaves sin; for there is original sin in him enough to damn and destroy him. 5. Sin may be left, and yet be loved: a man may forsake the life of sin, and yet retain the love of sin: 83 now, though leaving sin makes him almost a Chris- tian, yet loving sin shows he is but almost a Chris- tian. It is a less evil to do sin, and not love it, than to love sin and not do it; for to do sin may argue only weakness of grace, but to love sin argues strength of lust. " What 1 hate, tliat I do." Sin is bad in any part of man, but sin in the affection is worse than sin in the conversation; for sin in the conversation may be only from infirmity, but sin in the affection is the fruit of choice and unregeneracy. 6. All sin may be chained, and yet the heart not changed ; and so the nature of the sinner is the same as ever. A dog chained up, is a dog still, as much as if he was let loose to devour. There may be a cessation of arms between ene- mies, and yet the quarrel may remain on foot still : there may be a making truce, where there is no making peace. A sinner may lay the weapons of sin out of his hand, and yet the enmity against God still remain in his heart. There may be a truce — he may not sin against him; but there can be no peace till he be united to him. . Restraining grace holds in the sinner, but it is renewing grace that changes his nature. Now many are held in by grace from being open sinners, that are not renewed by grace, and made true be- lievers. Now then, if a man may forsake open sins, and re- tain secret sins ; if he may forsake sin, but not as sin ; if he may let one sin go, to hold another the faster; if a man may let all sin go, and yet be a sinner still; 84 if sin may be left, and yet be loved : finally, if all sin maybe chained, and yet the heart not changed;^ then a man may forsake sin, and yet be but almost a Christian. V. A man may hate sin, and yet be but almost a Christian. Absalom hated Amnon's uncleanness with his sis- ter Tamar; yea, his hatred was so great, that he slew him for it; and yet Absalom was but a wicked man. Objection. But the Scripture makes it a sign of a gracious heart, to hate sin; yea, thougli a man do, through infirmities, fall into sin, yet if he hates it, this is a proof of grace. Paul proves the sincerity of his heart, and the truth of his grace, by this ha- tred of sin, though he committed it: " What 1 hate, that I do." Nay, what is grace but a conformity of the soul to God; to love as God loves, to hate as God hates? Now God hates sin : it is one part of his holiness to hate all sin. And if I hate sin, then am I conformed to God ; and if I am conformed to God, then am I altogether a Christian. Answer. It is true, that there is a hatred of sin, which is a sign of grace, and which flows from a principle of grace, and is grace. As for instance: To hate sin, as it is an offence to God, a wrong to his majesty; to hate sin, as it is a breach of the command, and so a wicked controlling of God's will, which is the only rule of goodness; to hate sin, as being a disingenuous transgression of that law of love established in the blood and death of Christ, and so, in a degree, a crucifying of Christ afresh. 85 To hate sin, as being a grieving anctt quenching the Spirit of God, as all sin in its nature is* — Thus to hate sin, is grace ; and thus every true Christian hates sin. But, thougli every man that hath grace, hates sin, yet every man that hates sin, hath not grace: for, a man may hate sin from other principles, not as it is a wrong to God, or a wounding Christ, or a grieving the Spirit; for then he would hate all sin; for there is no sin but hath this in the nature of it. But, 1. A man may hate sin for the shame that attends it, more than for the evil that is in it. Some sin- ners there are, *' who declare their sin as Sodom, and hide it not." They are set down in the seat of the scornful ; " they glory in their shame." But now others there are who are ashamed of sin, and therefore hate it, not for the sin's sake, but for the shame's sake. This made Absalom hate Amnon's uncleanness, because it brought shame upon him and his sister. 2. A man may hate sin more in others, than in himself: so doth the drunkard — he hates drunken- ness in another, and yet practises it himself! the liar hates falsehood in another, but likes it himself. Now he that hates sin from a piinciple of grace, hates sin most in himself; he hates sin in others, but he loathes most the sins of his own heart. 3. A man may hate one sin as being contrary to another. There is a great contrariety between sin and sin, between lust and lust; it is the excellencv of the life of grace, that it is a uniform life; there 86 is no one grace contrary to another. The graces of God's Spirit are different, but not differing. Faith, and love, and holiness, are all one: they con- sist together at the same time, in the same subject; nay, they cannot be parted. There can be no faith without love, no love without holiness; and so, on the other hand, no holiness without love; no love without faith. So that this makes the life of grace an easy and excellent life; but now the life of sin is a distracting contradictious life, wherein a man is a servant to contrary lusts: the lust of pride and pro- digality is contrary to the lust of covetousness, &c. Now, where one lust gets to be the master-lust of the soul, then that works a hatred of its contrary. Where covetousness gets the heart, there the heart hates pride; and where pride gets uppermost in the heart, there the heart hates covetousness. Thus a man may hate sin, not from a principle of grace, but from the contrariety of lust. He does not hate any sin, as it is sin; but he hates it, as being contrary to his beloved sin. Now then, if a man may hate sin for the shame that attends it ; if he may hate sin more in others than himself; if he may hate one sin as being contrary to another; — then he may hate sin, and yet be but almost a Christian. VI. A man may make great vows and promises — he may have strong purposes and resolutions against sin, and yet be but almost a Christian. Thus did Saul; he promises and resolves against his sin : " Return my son David," saith he, " for I will no more do thee harm." What promises and 87 resolves did Pharaoh make against that sin of de- taining God's people? — saith he, " I will let the people go, that they may do sacrifice to the Lord." And again, " I will let ye go, and ye shall stay no longer." And yet Saul and Pharaoh both perished in their sins. The greatest purposes and promises against sin will not make a man a Christian : for, 1. Purposes and promises against sin, never hurt sin : we say, " threatened folks live long;" and truly so do threatened sins. It is not new purposes, but a new nature, that must help us against sin: purposes may bring to the birth, but without a new nature, there is no strength to bring forth. The new na- ture is the best soil for holy purposes to grow in ; otherwise, they wither and die, like plants in an im- proper soil. 2. Troubles and afflictions may provoke us to large purposes and promises against sin for the future. What more common, than to vow, and not to pay ? to make vows in the day of trouble, which we make no conscience to pay in the day of grace? Many covenant against sin, when trouble is upon them ; and then sin against their covenant, when it is re* moved from them. It was a brave rule that Pliny, in one of his epistles, gave his friend to live by, ** That we should continue to be such when we are well, as we promise to be when we are sick." Many are our sick-bed promises, but we are no sooner well, than we grow sick of our promises. 3. Purposes and resolves against sin for the fu- ture, may be only a temptation to put off repentance for the present. Satan may put a man on to good 88 purposes, to keep him from present attempts. He knows whatever we purpose, yet the strength of per- formance is not in ourselves. He knows, that pur- poses for the future are a putting God off for the pre- sent; they are a secret \s)ill not, to a present oppor- tunity. That is a notable passage, " Follow me," saith Christ, to the two men. Now see what answers they gave to Christ : — " Suffer me first to go and bury my father," says one. This man purposes to follow Christ, only he would stay to bury his father. Says the other, " Lord, I will follow thee, but let me first go and bid them farewell which are at my house :" I will follow thee, but only I would first go and take my leave of my friends, or set my house in order; and yet we do not find that ever they fol- lowed Christ notwithstanding their fair purposes. 4. Nature unsanctified may be so far wrought on, as to make great promises and purposes against sin. 1st, A natural man may have great convictions of sin, from the workings of an enlightened conscience. gd. He may approve of the law of God. 3d, He may have a desire to be saved. Now these three together — the workings of con- science : the sight of the goodness of the law ; a desire to be saved, — may bring forth in a man great purposes against sin, and yet he may have no heart to perform his own purposes. This was much like the case of them — say they to Moses, " Go thou near, and hear all that the Lord our God shall say: and tell thou it to us, and we will hear it, and do it." This is a fair promise, and so God takes it : " I have heard the words of this people ; 89 they have well said all they have spoken.'* So said, and so done, had been well ; but it was better said than done : for though they had a tongue to promise, yet they had no heart to perform ; and this God saw : therefore said he, " O that there were such an heart in them, that they would fear me, and keep my commandments always, that it might be well with them !" They promised to fear God, and keep his commandments; but they wanted anew heart to perform what an unsanctified heart had promised. It fares with men in this case, as it did vvith that son in the gospel, that said, " He would go into the vineyard, but went not." Now then, if purposes and promises against sin, never hurt sin ; if present afflictions may draw out large promises ; if they may be the fruit of a tempta- tion — or, if from nature unsanctified ; surely then a man may promise and purpose much against sin, and yet be but almost a Christian. VII. A man may maintain a strife and combat against sin in himself, and yet be but almost a Christian. So did Balaam ; when he went to curse the people of God, he had a great strife within him- self. " How shall I curse," saith he, " whom God hath not cursed? or how shall I defy whom the Lord hath not defied?" And did not Pilate strive against his sin, when he said to the Jews, " Shall I crucify your king? what evil hath he done. I am innocent of the blood of this just man." Objection. But you will say, " Is not this an argument of grace, when there is a striving in the soul against sin ? for what should oppose sin in 90 the heart but grace ? The apostle makes " the lusting of the flesh against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh," to be an argument of grace in the heart. Now I find this strife in my heart, though the remainders of corruption sometimes break out into actual sins, yet I find a striving in my soul against sin. Answer, It is true, there is a striving against sin, which is only from grace, and is proper to believers; and their is a striving against sin, which is npt from grace, and therefore may be in them that are not believers. There is a strife against sin in one and the same faculty; the will against the will — the af- fection against the affection; and this is that which the apostle calls " the lusting of the flesh against the Spirit;" that is, the striving of the unregenerate part against the regenerate : and this is ever in the same facuhy, and is proper to believers only. An unbeliever never finds this strife in himself* This strife cannot be in him ; it is impossible, as such ; that is, while he is on this side a state of grace. But then there is a striving against sin in divers faculties ; and this is the strife that is in them that are not believers. There, the strife is between the will and the conscience; conscience enlightened and terrified with the fear of hell and damnation — that is against sin ; the will and affection, not being renewed, they are for sin. And this causes great tugging and combats many times in the sinner's heart. Thus it was with the Scribes and Pharisees. Conscience convinced them of the divinity of Christ, and of the truth of his being the Son of God ; and 91 yet a perverse will, and carnal affections, cry out, " Crucify him ! Crucify him !" — Conscience pleaded for him. He had a witness in their bosoms; and yet their wills were bent against him : and therefore they are said " to have resisted the Spirit;" namely, the workings and convictions of the Spirit in their consciences. And this is the case of many sinners; when the will and affections are for sin, and plead for it, conscience is against it, and many times frights the soul from the doing of it. And hence men take that which opposes sin in them to be grace, when it is only the work of a natural conscience. They conclude the strife is between grace and sin — the regenerate and unregenerate part; when, alas ! it is no other than the contention of a natural conscience against a corrupt will and affections. — And if so, then a man may have great strifes and combats against sin in him ; and yet be hut almost a Chris- tian. 5. A man may desire grace, and yet be but al- most a Christian. So did the five foolish virgins: " Give us of your oil." What was that but true grace? It was that oil that lighted the wise virgins into the bridegroom's chamber. They do not only desire to enter in, but they desire oil to light them in. Wicked men may desire heaven — desire a Christ to save them : there is none so wicked upon earth, but desire to be happy in heaven. But now here are they that desire grace as well as glory, and yet these are but almost Christians. Objection. But is it not commonly taught that desires of grace are grace? nay, doth not our Lord 92 Christ make it so? — " Blessed are they that hunger and thirst after righteousness; for they shall be filled." Answer, It is true, that there are some desires of grace which are grace: as, 1. When a man desires grace from a right sense of his natural state; when he sees the vileness of sin, and the woful, defiled, and loathsome condition he is in by reason of sin; and therefore desires the grace of Christ to renew and change him, — this is grace. This some make to be the lowest degree of saving faith. 2. When a man joins proportionable endeavours to his desires ; doth not only wish for grace, but work for grace; such desires are grace. 3. When a man's desires are constant and inces- sant, that cease not but in the attainment of their object; such desires are true grace. They are a part of the especial work of the Spirit. They tlo really partake of the nature of grace; now it is a known maxim, " that which partakes of the nature of the whole, is a part of the whole ;" the filings of gold are gold. The sea is not more really water, than the least drop; the flame is not more really fire than the least spark. But though all true desires of grace, are grace ; yet all desires of grace, are not true : for, 1. A man may desire grace, but not for itself, but for somewhat else; not for grace's sake, but for hea- ven's sake : he doth not desire grace, that his na- ture may be changed, his heart renewed, the image of God stamped upon him, and his lusts subdued in 93 him. These are blessed desires, found only in true believers. The true Christian only can desire grace for grace's sake ; but the almost Christian may desire Grace for heaven's sake. 2. A man may desire grace without proportion- able endeavours after grace; many are good at wish- in(T, but bad at working; like him that lay in the grass on a summer's day, crying out, " O that this were to work?" Solomon saith, " The desire of the slothful kills him." How so? " For his hands refuse to labour;" He perisheth in his desires. The believer joins desires and endeavours together: " One thing have I desired of the Lord, and that will I seek after." 3. A man's desires of grace may be unseason- able: thus the foolish virgins desired oil when it was too late. The believer's desires are seasonable; he desires grace in the season of grace, and seeks in a time when it may be found. " The wise man's heart knows both time and judgment." He knows his season, and hath wisdom to improve it. The silly sinner doth all his works out of season ; he sends away the seasons of grace, and then desires grace when the season is over. The sinner doth all too late ; as Esau desired the blessing when it was too late, and therefore he lost it; whereas, had he come sooner, he had obtained it. Most men are like Epimetheus, wise too late, they come when the market is done ; when the shop is closed, then they have their oil to get. When they lie upon their death-beds, then they desire holy hearts. 4. Desires of grace in many are very inconstant 94 and fleeting, like the " morning dew, that quickly' passes away :" or like Jonah's gourd, that springs up in a night, and withers in a night ; they have no root in the heart, and therefore quickly perish. Now, if a man may desire grace, but not for grace's sake; if desires may be without endeavours: if a man may desire grace when it is too late ; if these desires may be but fleeting and inconstant; then may a man desire grace, and yet be but almost a Christian. 5. A man may tremble at the word of God and yet be hut almost a Christian, as Belshazzar did at the hand-writing upon the wall. Objection. But is not that a note of sincerity and truth of grace, to tremble at the word? Doth not God say, " To him will I look that is of a poor and contrite spirit, and trembles at my word?" Answer, There is a two-fold trembling. 1. One is, when the word discovers the guilt of sin, and the wrath of God that belongs to that guilt ; this, where conscience is awake, causes trembling and amazement: thus, when Paul preached of right- eousness and judgment, it is said Felix trembled. 2. There is a trembling which arises from a holy dread and reverence of the majesty of God, speak- ing in his word ; this is only found in true believers, and is that which keeps the soul low in its own eyes. Therefore mark how the words run : " To him will I look that is of a poor and contrite spirit, and trem- bles at my word." God does not make the promise to him that trembles at the word ; for the devils believe and tremble; the word of God can make the proudest, stoutest sinner in the world to shake and 95 tremble, — but it is " to the poor and contrite spirit that trembles." Where trembling is the fruit of a spirit broken for sin, and low in its own eyes; there will God look. Now many tremble at the word, but not from poverty of spirit, not from a heart broken for sin, and low in its own eyes ; not from a sense of the majesty and holiness of God : and there- fore, notwithstanding, they tremble at the word, yet they are but almost Christians. VII. A man may delight in the word and ordi- nances of God, and yet be but almost a Christian : " They take delight in approaching to God." And it is said of that ground, that it " received the word with joy," and yet it was but *' stony ground." Objection. But is it not made a character of a godly man, to delight in the word of God ? Doth not David say, " He is a blessed man that delights in the law of the Lord ?" Answer. There is a delighting in the word, which flows from grace, and is a proof of blessedness. 1. He that delights in the word, because of its spirituality, he is a Christian indeed ; the more spiritual the ordinances are, the more doth a gracious heart delight in them. 2. When the word comes close to the conscience, rips up the heart, and discovers sin, and yet the soul delights in it notwithstanding; this is a sign of grace. 3. When delight arises from that communion that is to be had with God there, this is from a principle of grace in the soul. 96 But there may be a delight in the word, where there is no grace. 1. There are many who delight in the word be- cause of the eloquence of the preacher: they delight not so much in the truths delivered, as in the dress in which they are delivered. Thus it is said of the prophet Ezekiel, that he was to them " as a very lovelv song of one that hath a pleasant voice." 2. There are very many who delight to hear the word, that yet take no delight to do it : so saith God of them, " They delight to hear my words, but they do them not." Now then, if a man may delight in the word more, because of the eloquence of the preacher, than be- cause of the spirituality of the matter; if he may delight to hear the word, and yet not delight to do it, — then he may delight in the word, and yet be but almost a Christian. VIII. A man may be a member of the church of Christ, he may join himself to the people of God, partake with them in all ordinances, and share of all church privileges, and yet be but almost a Christian. So the five foolish virgins joined themselves to the wise, and walked together. Many may be mem- bers of the church of Christ, and yet not members of Christ, the head of the church. There was a mixed multitude came up with the church of Israel out of Egypt : they joined themselves to the Israel- ites, owned their God, left their own country, and yet were in heart Egyptians notwithstanding : " All are not Israel, that are of Israel." 97 The church in all ages hath had unsound mem- bers : Cain had communion with Abel; Ishmael dwelt in the same house with Isaac; Judas was in fellowship with the apostles; and so was Demas with the rest of the disciples. There will be some bran in the finest meal: the drag-net of the Gospel catclies bad fish as well as good; the tares and the wheat grow together, and it will be so till the liarvest. God hath a church where there are no members but such as are true members of Christ, but it is in heaven, it is the '' church of the first-born ;" there are no hypocrites, nor rotten, unsound profes- sors, none but the " spirits of just men made per- fect :" all is pure wheat that God layeth up in that garner; there the chaff is separated to unquenchable fire. But in the church on earth the wheat and the chaff lie in the same heap together; the Samaritans will be near of kin to the Jews when they are in prosperity : so while the church of God flourisheth in the world, many will join to it; they will seem Jews, though they are Samaritans; and seem saints, though yet they are no better than almost Christians. IX. A man may have great hopes of heaven, great hopes of being saved, and yet be but almost a Christian. Indeed there is a hope of heaven which is " the anchor of the soul sure and steadfast," it never mis- carries, and it is known by four properties. First, It is a hope that purifies the heart, purges out sin : " He that hath this hope, purifies himself E 27 98 even as God is pure." That soul that truly hopes to enjoy God, truly endeavours to be like God. Secondly, It is a hope which fills the heart with gladness: ** We rejoice in hope of the glory of God." Thirdly, It is a hope that is founded upon the promise : as there can be no true faith without a promise, so, nor any true hope. Faith applies the promise, and hope expects the fulfilling the promise: faith relies upon the truth of it, and hope waits for tbe good of it : faith gives interest, hope expects livery and seisin. Fourthly, It is a hope that is wrought by God himself in the soul; who is therefore called, " the God of hope," as being the Author as well as the Object of hope. Now, he that hath this hope shall never miscarry. This is a right hope; the hope of the true believer: " Christ in you, the hope of glory." But then, as there is a true and sound hope, so there is a false and rotten hope; and this is much more common, as bastard-pearls are more frequently worn than true pearls. There is nothing more common, than to see men big with groundless hopes of heaven : as, 1. A man may have great hope that hath no grace; you read of the " hope of hypocrites." The performance of duties is a proof of their hope ; the foolish virgins would never have done what they did, had they thought they should have been shut out after all. Many professors would not be at such pains in duties as they are, if they did not hope for heaven. Hope is the great motive to action : des- pair cuts the sinews of all endeavours. That is one 99 reason why the damned in hell cease acting toward an alteration of their state, because despair hath taken hold of them : if there were any hope in hell, they would up and be doing there. So that there may be great hope where there is no grace ; experi- ence proves this ; formal professors are men of no grace, but yet men of great hopes; nay, many times you shall find that none fear more about their eter- nal condition, than they that have most cause of hope ; and none hope more than they that have most cause of fear. As interest in hope may sometimes be without hope, so hope in God may be without interest. 2. A man may hope in the mercy and goodness, and power of God, without eyeing the promise; and this is the hope of most : God is full of mercy and goodness, and therefore willing to save; and he is infinite in power, and therefore able to save; why therefore should I not rest on him ? Now it is presumption, and therefore sin, to hope in the mercy of God, otherwise than by eyeing the promise ; for the promise is the channel of mercy, through which it is conveyed ; all the blessedness the saints enjoy in heaven, is no other than what is the fruit of promise relied on, and hoped for here on earth. A man hath no warrant to hope in God, but by virtue of the promise. 3. A man may hope for heaven, and yet not cleanse his heart, nor depart from his secret sins; that hope of salvation that is not accompanied with heart-purification, is a vain hope. 4. A man may hope for heaven, and yet be do- E2 100 ing the work of hell ; he may hope for salvation, and yet be working out his own damnation, and so perish in his confidences. This is the case of many, like the water-man that looks one way, and rows another; many have their eyes on heaven whose hearts are in the earth; they hope in God, but choose him not for a portion; they hope in God, but do not love him as the best good, and therefore are like to have no portion in him, nor good by him; bat are like to perish without him, notwithstanding all their hopes: " What is the hope of the hypo- crite, though he hath gained, when God takes away his soul?" Now then, if a man may have great hope of hea- ven, that hath no grace; if he may hope in mercy, without eyeing the promise; if he may hope without heart-purifying ; if he may hope for heaven, and yet do the work of hell; surely then a man may have great hopes of heaven, and yet be but almost a Christian. X. A man may be under great and visible changes, and these wrought by the ministry of the word, and yet be but almost a Christian, as Herod was. It is said, " when he heard John Baptist, he did many things, and heard him gladly." Saul was under a great change when he met the Lord's prophets; he turned prophet too. Nay, it is said, verse 9th of that chapter, that " God gave him another heart." Now, was not this a work of grace ? and was not Saul here truly converted ? One would think he was ; but yet indeed he was not. For though it is said, God gave him another heart, yet 101 it is not said, that God gave him a 7iex