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 BX 9178 .R5 S4x 
 
 Richards, James, 1767-1843 
 
 Sermons 
 
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SERMONS 
 
 BY THE LATE 
 
 REV. JAMES RICHARDS, D. D. 
 
 WITH AN 
 
 ESSAY ON HIS CHARACTER. 
 
 BY WILLIAM B. SPRAGUE, D. D. 
 
 ALBANY: 
 ERASTUS H. PEASE & CO., 
 
 No. 82 State Street. 
 
 1849. 
 
Entered according to act of congress in the year 1848, by 
 
 E. H. PEASE & CO., 
 
 ill the Clerk's Office for the Northern District of New York. 
 
 3. Plungell, i^rfntfr, 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 ESSAY 
 On the character of Rev. James Richards, D. D., 5 
 
 SERMON I. 
 God's universal presence, , - - . 39 
 
 SERMON II. 
 God's thoughts and ways above ours, - - 55 
 
 SERMON III. 
 God's favour to the upright, - - - - 70 
 
 SERMON IV. 
 Life a pilgrimage, 84 
 
 SERMON V, 
 The rich fool, 101 
 
 SERMON VI. 
 The ark of the Lord, 114 
 
 SERMON VII. 
 Behaviour appropriate to God's house, - - 134 
 
 SERMON VIII. 
 Disinterestedness of true religion, - - - 150 
 
IV. CONTENTS. 
 
 SERMON IX. 
 Progressive course of the Christian, - - 163 
 
 SERMON X. 
 
 Confidence in God productive of peace, - - 181 
 
 SERMON XI. 
 The heart of man proved by the Providence of 
 
 God, 199 
 
 SERMON XXL 
 The spirit of Clirist, 214 
 
 SERMON XIII. 
 Darkness surrounding God's righteous throne, 232 
 
 SERMON XIV. 
 Duty of submission, 248 
 
 SERMON XV. 
 The spirit of Paul the spirit of Missions, - 271 
 
 SERMON XVI. 
 This world is not our rest, - - . . 297 
 
 SERMON XVII. 
 Sleeping in. Jesus. - - . . . 313 
 
 SERMON XVIII. 
 Thanksgiving, 331 
 
 SERMON XIX. 
 Duty of sustaining an educated ministry, - 348 
 
 ADDRESS 
 On the death of Mrs. Cumming, - - - 374 
 
THSOLC lJ- 
 
 ESSAY ON THE CHARACTER 
 
 OF THE 
 
 REY. JAMES RICHARDS, D. D. 
 
 There are not only many duties which the living 
 owe to the living, but some which the living owe to 
 the dead. Especially when a great and good man 
 dies, — one who has occupied an important station, and 
 wielded a powerful influence, and been not only ex- 
 tensively known but greatly beloved and venerated 
 during his life, — when such an one is removed from the 
 world, he has claims upon those who survive him which 
 it were alike unreasonable and ungrateful to disregard. 
 It is due to him, first, that his memory should be che- 
 rished with aifectionate respect; that they who have 
 been edified and improved by his wisdom, and they 
 who have walked in the light of his example, and even 
 they who have come more remotely under his benign 
 influence, should embalm his virtues in their grateful 
 and enduring remembrance. Nor is this the limit of 
 their obligations: they are bound to do what they can 
 to enlarge and perpetuate his usefulness; for though it 
 is the ordinance of Heaven that the actions and charac- 
 2 
 
6 ESSAY ON THE CHARACTER 
 
 ters of a good man should survive his earthly existence, 
 and operate through various channels in moulding the 
 characters and destinies of those who come after him, 
 yet it is within the power of those who survive him 
 greatly to increase the energy as well as to widen the 
 sphere of his posthumous influence. This may be done 
 in various ways: let it suffice here to mention only two. 
 Such a person has certainly left to the world the legacy 
 of an exalted character: it devolves on those who come 
 after him to see that nothing be wanting to secure its 
 legitimate effect, in suitably displaying its attractions 
 and in giving it all due notoriety. Perhaps he has also 
 left productions of his pen, which, by being given to 
 the world, might be in the place of the living teacher, 
 and might do much in aid of the cause of intellectual 
 or moral improvement: such productions surely ought 
 to be sent forth on a mission of good ; and to keep 
 them back were little less than to be accessary to the 
 burying of talents in the earth. 
 
 It will not be denied by any competent and impartial 
 judge that the individual whose character is to form the 
 subject of these remarks, was one of the greater lights 
 of our American church. If there have been those 
 who have excelled him in particular qualities of mind, 
 or particular departments of usefulness, who have moved 
 in a more brilliant path or enjoyed a more extended 
 popularity, it is believed there have been very few, at 
 least of his own generation, whose general excellence 
 and usefulness have been more universally acknow- 
 ledged. As a sketch of his life and character has been 
 given to the world in connection with his theological 
 
OF THE REV. JAMES RICHARDS, D. D. 7 
 
 lectures, it is not intended in the present brief Essay to 
 attempt a repetition of that service; but only to hint 
 at some of the more prominent facts and characteristics 
 which have been already brought out in his Biography, 
 in connection with their general bearing on the charac- 
 ter of the ministry and the prospects of the church.* 
 
 It may be w^orth while to advert briefly to the in- 
 strumentalities by which his character was formed; — 
 the circumstances which Providence employed for that 
 early development and direction of his faculties, which 
 had so much to do in ultimately making him what he 
 was in his various relations. 
 
 First of all, he was uncommonly favoured in respect 
 to his birth. His parents were indeed in humble 
 worldly circumstances, — only a single degree removed 
 
 *As this work may possibly fall into the hands of some who have 
 not access to the more extended sketch of his life, I have thought 
 it best to present here an epitome of his history. 
 
 He was the son of James and Ruth Richards, and was born at 
 New Canaan, Connecticut, Oct. 29, 1767. He served at a me- 
 chanical trade in his boyhood, and laboured successively at New- 
 town, Danbury, and Stamford. He became hopefully a subject of 
 renewing grace when he was in his nineteenth year, and united 
 with the congregational church in Stamford. He commenced his 
 course of study preparatory to entering college under the Rev. J. 
 Mitchell of New Canaan and finished it under the Rev. Dr. Bur- 
 nett of Norwalk. He entered Yale College in the autumn of 1789, 
 and from his inability to meet his expenses, was obliged to leave at 
 the close of his freshman year. He returned to Norwalk and re- 
 sumed his studies for a while under Dr. Burnett, and afterwards in 
 1791, he went to Greenfield where he enjoyed the instruction of 
 Dr. Dwight through his whole subsequent course until he entered 
 the ministry. 
 
8 ESSAY ON THE CHARACTER 
 
 above indigence; but they were rich in faith and heirs 
 of the kingdom: his mother particularly possessed ster- 
 ling intellectual as well as moral qualities, — great 
 natural common sense and discretion as well as energy 
 and perseverance, while the crowning attribute of her 
 character was an earnest and consistent piety. It were 
 impossible but that a child of such parents should early 
 be brought in contact with those influences which are 
 best fitted to give a right direction to the youthful 
 character; and such we find was actually the case in 
 respect to young Richards: the best efforts which pa- 
 rental solicitude and discretion and piety could dictate, 
 were put forth, during his earliest years, to form him to 
 virtue and usefulness; and there is no doubt that the in- 
 fluence which was thereby exerted gave the permanent 
 stamp to his character and life. It is in the Christian 
 nursery that the hopes of the ministry and ultimately 
 
 He was licensed to preach by the association in the western dis- 
 trict of Fairfield county in 1793. He was engaged for a short 
 time as a supply at Ballston, N. Y., and afterwards simultaneouslj' 
 at Sag Harbor and Shelter Island. In June 1794 he was called to 
 the pastoral charge of the church at Morristown : he finally accepted 
 the call though his installation did not take place till May, 1797. 
 He was married in November 1794 to Miss Caroline Cowles of 
 Farmington, Conn., a lady of great excellence who has died within 
 the last year. In 1809 he received and accepted a call from the 
 First Presbyterian church in Newark to become their pastor, that 
 church having been rendered vacant by Dr. Griffin's acceptance of 
 an invitation to a professorship in the Andover Theological Semi- 
 nary. In 1823 he accepted the professorship at Auburn, and was 
 inaugurated October 29th of that year. He died August 2, 1843. 
 He had seven children; four of whom survived him. One of his 
 sons is a Presbyterian clergyman in Morristown, New Jersey. 
 
f 
 
 OF THE REV. JAMES RICHARDS, D. D. 9 
 
 the hopes of the church are peculiarly fixed. Instances 
 indeed there are of extensive usefulness and even great 
 eminence in the clerical profession, where there has not 
 been the advantage of an early religious training, — 
 where God has seemed to take the work of conversion 
 so entirely into his own hands, that it has borne almost 
 the aspect of a miracle; but in all ordinary cases, it 
 will be found that faithful ministers of the gospel are 
 the children of pious parents, and that their earliest 
 impressions of the importance of religion are associated 
 with the recollection of an excellent mother's counsels 
 and prayers. In the distribution of blessings in the 
 present life, it may well be doubted whether God deals 
 more bountifully with any than with those whom he 
 renders instrumental of forming their children to exalted 
 piety and usefulness. Such a mother may be little 
 known on earth, but there is a glorious record of her in 
 Heaven. She may live in obscurity and poverty, and 
 after she is gone there may be no monument to tell 
 where her ashes repose; but if she has done nothing 
 else than put one mind on the track to honorable use^ 
 fulness and to a glorious immortality, she has done that 
 which w^ill confer upon herself enduring honour, and 
 which will ultimately throw the brightest exploits of 
 mere worldly heroism into the shade. It were well for 
 the church that Christian parents should have their 
 privileges as well as duties constantly held up before 
 them. Let the obscurest mother in Israel take courage 
 and comfort in the thought that she knows not but that 
 by God's blessing upon her parental efforts,' she may 
 set up some great light in the church, which shall 
 *2 
 
10 ESSAY ON THE CHARACTER 
 
 connect her humble instrumentality with the progressive 
 triumphs of God's grace through all coming genera- 
 tions. 
 
 The next thing worthy of notice in respect to Dr. 
 Richards, — and it is to be referred immediately to the 
 circumstances of his birth, — is that he was a self made 
 man. As the straitened condition of his parents 
 forbade their giving him the advantages of a liberal 
 education, he saw, when the purpose of devoting him- 
 self to the ministry was formed, that his own faculties 
 must be tasked to the utmost in order to accomplish it; 
 and he went to work with all the zeal inspired by a 
 strong conviction of duty on the one hand, and a 
 naturally heroic and persevering spirit on the other. 
 During his earliest years he suffered not a little from ill 
 health; and even after he had commenced his prepara- 
 tion for college, he was obliged to suspend it for some 
 months, on account of bodily indisposition and especially 
 a distressing weakness of the eyes; but none of all 
 these things moved him, or led him even to falter in his 
 determination, if his life were spared, to preach the un- 
 searchable riches of Christ. Providence kindly brought 
 to his aid good friends, whose timely benefactions were 
 a great encouragement to him; though they did not, by 
 any means, supersede the necessity of his own vigorous 
 exertions. His college course was early interrupted 
 for want of the requisite pecuniary means; and after 
 he had left college and was still struggling to carry 
 forward his education in private, amidst the incon- 
 veniences incident to poverty, severe sickness came 
 again and brought him so near the grave that his re- 
 
OF THE REV. JAMES RICHARDS, D. D. 11 
 
 covery was regarded as an almost miraculous inter- 
 position. At a still later period we find him engaged 
 in teaching a school with a view to sustain himself in 
 his subsequent studies; and in the last stage of his 
 preparation for the ministry (for in his case the literary 
 and the theological were necessarily blended into the 
 same course) he enjoys the instruction of that great 
 and good man, Dr. D wight, who afterwards became 
 President of Yale College, and was instrumental in 
 procuring for him the degree of Bachelor of Arts. 
 Thus it appears that his course from the beginning was 
 made up of a succession of struggles with poverty and 
 misfortune. But for his own indomitable resolve to 
 preach the gospel to his fellow creatures, he never 
 could have submitted to such a protracted course of 
 self denying effort. And yet it is worthy of remark 
 that during this whole period Providence kept him in 
 contact with those influences which were best fitted to 
 aid in the formation of an exalted character. His 
 religious associations were of the purest and most 
 elevated kind; and during a large part of the time he 
 breathed an intellectual atmosphere than which the 
 country scarcely afforded any that was more quickening 
 and healthful. 
 
 It is no doubt to these manifold and varied conflicts 
 with difficulty, that we are to look for some of the 
 primary elements of Dr. Richards's commanding charac- 
 ter and usefulness. Had he been born and reared in 
 circumstances of opulence, and always felt himself in- 
 dependent of any personal effort for education or even 
 subsistence, it is no wise improbable that he might 
 
12 ESSAY ON THE CHARACTER 
 
 never have been heard of in the walks of usefulness 
 and honour, — never have learned the use or scarcely 
 the existence of his noble faculties. But Providence 
 placed him in the very circumstances which were best 
 adapted to quicken both his intellectual and moral 
 faculties into vigorous exercise; and though it seemed 
 a severe discipline, no doubt it will be seen at last to 
 have connected itself with his noblest achievements on 
 earth and his holiest hallelujahs in Heaven. 
 
 It were a matter of no small interest to ascertain 
 what proportion of the master spirits in the various de- 
 partments of honorable usefulness, have been subjected 
 in early life to the discipline of poverty, and to the 
 necessity of reliance on their own personal efforts. 
 That very many who have had such an experience have 
 risen to great eminence, no one will question; and a 
 moment's reflection suggests all the considerations 
 that are necessary to account for it. The fact that the 
 resolution should be taken amidst such discouraging 
 circumstances, to gain the requisite qualifications for 
 any profession, and especially for that of a minister of 
 the gospel, shows a strength of purpose that will be 
 sure to triumph over any difficulties that may lie in the 
 way; and then the very discipline of the faculties by 
 which such triumph is achieved, is a fitting preparation 
 for yet higher intellectual efforts; for while it reveals 
 to the mind more and more of its own capabilities, and 
 renders it increasingly familiar with the legitimate use 
 of its own powers, it imparts additional intensity to the 
 desire of knowledge, and additional energy to the 
 spirit of perseverance. And it is easy to see how this 
 
OF THE REV. JAMES RICHARDS, D. D. 13 
 
 influence extends to the religious character also. Great 
 attainments in piety are never the result of superficial 
 or feeble efforts. The mind in its communings with 
 itself and its God, in exploring the depths of its own 
 depravity, and in ascertaining the various practical 
 bearings of divine truth upon its condition and pros- 
 pects, in such a manner as to subserve in the highest 
 degree its own spirituality, can never be in a sluggish 
 frame: its faculties must be tasked to the utmost; and 
 that not for any given period, but until it has sustained 
 its final conflict in death. Now admitting that the new 
 creating act hath been performed upon the soul, and the 
 faculties have once received a right direction from the 
 spirit of God, there is much in such a condition as is 
 now supposed, to encourage the hope of a sound and 
 rapid growth in piety. To say nothing of the fact that 
 in all ordinary cases, there is a comparative absence of 
 those temptations which usually act upon young Christ- 
 ians with the greatest power, particularly the tempta- 
 tions to a habit of worldliness and gaiety, — the very cir- 
 cumstance that the faculties are kept in vigorous exer- 
 cise in the pursuit of knowledge from right motives, 
 will be likely to enlist a corresponding degree of vigor 
 in the exercises of devotion, and in all those efforts 
 that have special reference to the cultivation of the 
 spiritual mind. Cases indeed there are in which the 
 desire of intellectual improvement seems for a time to 
 get the ascendancy over the desire for religious culture; 
 but in the great majority of instances it will be found 
 that the intellectual and the spiritual keep pace in some 
 good degree w^ith each other, and that of those who 
 
14 ESSAY ON THE CHARACTER 
 
 enter the ministry, not only the most vigorous and 
 thoroughly furnished minds but the best disciplined 
 hearts are rather more frequently found among the class 
 who owe their education under God to their own efforts, 
 than any other. 
 
 The character of Dr. Richards's early religious ex- 
 perience also, deserves to be considered in its bearing 
 upon his subsequent life. The leading truths of the 
 gospel he learned from his mother's lips; and though 
 for some time the seed which she had sown in his in- 
 fant mind, did not seem to vegetate, or at least to bring 
 forth fruit, yet in due time, those precious doctrines, 
 under the quickening influence of the Holy Spirit, 
 asserted their power over him, waking his intellect, his 
 conscience, his whole inner man, into vigorous and 
 solemn exercise. It was no superficial view of the 
 evil of sin, and the corruption of his own heart that 
 constituted the preparation for his acceptance of the 
 terms of the gospel: on the contrary the arrows of the 
 Almighty well nigh drank up his spirits. He was 
 brought to realize not only his aggravated guilt, his 
 utter ruin, but his absolute helplessness. In the spirit 
 of self righteousness, he cast about him for some other 
 refuge than the Saviour, unwilling to be indebted for 
 his salvation to God's sovereign grace; but he saw that 
 his efforts were all unavailing, and he found no peace 
 to his troubled spirit, till he let go of every other hold 
 for the Lord Jesus Christ. As his conviction of sin 
 was uncommonly deep and pungent, and as his exercises 
 at the commencement of the Christian life were emi- 
 nently evangelical, it cannot be doubted that these fea- 
 
OF THE REV. JAMES RICHARDS, D. D. 15 
 
 lures of his incipient religious experience had much to 
 do in giving the complexion to his religious character 
 through life. Some there are indeed who seem to be 
 brought into the kingdom by the same thoruy way, 
 evincing at first great depth of anguish and great depth 
 of penitence, w4io subsequently disappoint the hopes 
 inspired by their earliest experience; but in his case 
 there was never the semblance of a retreat; w^hat he 
 was at the beginning was a sample of what he was ever 
 afterw^ards, except that his path was always growing 
 brighter. There is no evidence that there ever was a 
 period w^hen he could be said to have declined materi- 
 ally in the vigor of his religious feelings; and those 
 who knew him best were most strongly impressed with 
 the depth and powder of his experience. It was a strik- 
 ing feature of his ministry that in his intercourse with 
 those w^ho were awakened to a sense of sin, and those 
 who indulged the hope that they w^ere reconciled to 
 God, he w'as specially cautious to put them on their 
 guard against a spurious religion; taking all pains to 
 give the law its legitimate supremacy over their con- 
 sciences, that they might feel themselves absolutely shut 
 up to the faith, and might cast themselves without re- 
 serve on God's sovereign grace in Jesus Christ. Hence 
 it came to pass that in his latter days, when revivals of 
 religion for a time and in certain parts of the country 
 had degenerated into scenes of extravagance, and con- 
 versions had become little more than a mere matter of 
 mechanical impulse, he saw^ in thisstate of things every 
 thing adverse to the progress of evangelical and vital 
 piety; it was a new type of religion that had no counter- 
 
16 ESSAY ON THE CHARACTER 
 
 part in his own experience; and he felt himself called 
 upon boldly and earnestly to protest against it, even at 
 the expense of being denounced as an enemy to the 
 cause for which he w^as willing to die. 
 
 The most important element of power in the ministry 
 no doubt is its religious character; and that is decided 
 in this country at least, in a great measure, by the 
 character of revivals. Let such revivals prevail as the 
 American church has known at some periods of her 
 history, in which the conversions for the most part are 
 substantially such as that of which Dr. Richards was 
 the subject, and we may expect that our young men who 
 come out of these revivals into the ministry, will bring 
 with them an earnest evangelical spirit, and will be 
 safe guides in the great matter of directing souls to 
 Christ. But let the mechanical mode of " getting up" 
 revivals and making converts prevail, — let it be under- 
 stood that the occupancy of a particular seat brings a 
 person near the kingdom, and the avowal of a purpose 
 to serve God brings him into it; — and if the ministry 
 is to be supplied from the ranks of such converts as 
 these, we have every reason to believe that it will be a 
 ministry of death rather than of life; and though it 
 may possibly bring many into the church, yet few of 
 them will be such as shall be saved. There is no more 
 important reason for guarding the purity of the church, 
 and the avenues to the church, than the bearing w^hich 
 it has upon the future character of its ministers; for a 
 godless ministry, a worldly ministry, even a fanatical 
 ministry, is an incubus beneath which the church can 
 never rise in her strength and beauty. 
 
OF THE REV. JAMES RICHARDS, D. D. 17 
 
 The period at which Dr. Richards entered upon his 
 professional career, must not be overlooked in an esti- 
 mate of those influences by which his character as a 
 minister of the gospel was formed. It was just about 
 the dawn of a new and brighter epoch in the history of 
 the church; — when she had begun to awake from a 
 long and ignoble slumber, — to cast off her works of 
 darkness and put on her armour of light. It was just 
 at the time when she was receiving a fresh baptism of 
 the spirit of revivals and the spirit of missions, and her 
 heart began to throb in more vigorous pulsations as her 
 faith grasped the promise of millennial glory; — it was 
 just then that this excellent man entered upon his work 
 as an ambassador of the Son of God And he drank 
 in largely the quickening spirit of the times. He took 
 the most comprehensive views of the nature and ob- 
 jects of the work to which he had devoted himself. 
 He mingled with men who were fervent in spirit and 
 mighty \vith God, and he became himself as fervent 
 and mighty as they. And the impulse which he re- 
 ceived then had no doubt much to do in giving the 
 complexion to his life. He was a zealous and success- 
 ful promoter of revivals as long as he lived; while he 
 lamented in his latter days that the gold had become 
 dim and the fine gold changed. Connected as he was 
 with some of our earliest modern missionary operations, 
 his eye and his heart were always fixed upon the ulti- 
 mate regeneration of the world; he watched the pro- 
 gress of events continually, in its bearing on the inte- 
 rests of Christ's kingdom; and every propitious sign 
 he noted with overflowing gratitude. Had he come 
 3 
 
18 ESSAY ON THE CHARACTER 
 
 upon the stage a quarter of a century earlier, when the 
 storm of the revolution was gathering and bursting 
 upon the country, and the church and even her ministry 
 was absorbed in a great degree in matters of political 
 import, who can tell by how much less of devotion to 
 his master's w^ork, and of usefulness in his master's 
 cause, at home and abroad, his course might have been 
 marked? Who can say that he would have even been 
 heard of by posterity as a faithful minister of Christ, — 
 much less as such a noble witness to the power and 
 honour of the cross? 
 
 If there was much in the state of the times when 
 Dr. Richards entered the ministry to give a favourable 
 impulse to his mind and to secure to his labours the 
 happiest results, surely there is that in the present con- 
 dition of the church and the world that is fitted to 
 impart still higher encouragement and operate with 
 still greater power, in respect to those who engage in 
 the same sacred vocation now. Be it so that revivals 
 of religion have in latter years declined in purity, and 
 as a legitimate consequence, in frequency too; and that 
 the argument for exertion here is drawn rather from 
 the lamented absence of the Spirit's quickening influ- 
 ence than from the visible and glorious triumphs of 
 divine grace, — yet the case is far different in respect 
 to missions: the desire to give the gospel to all the 
 nations, accompanied by a corresponding course of 
 conduct, has been regularly growing stronger and 
 reaching farther, until now a large part of evangelical 
 Christendom may be considered as enlisted in this 
 glorious cause. And the success has greatly exceeded 
 
OF THE REV. JAMES RICHARDS, D. D. 19 
 
 the measure of effort that has been put forth: God has 
 shown himself more ready to give than the church has 
 been to ask; and He is at work now on a large scale, 
 by his providence as well as by his grace. These con- 
 vulsions that are taking place among the nations in 
 such rapid succession as to have assumed the character 
 of ordinary events, will no doubt be seen a little while 
 hence to have been the harbingers of the Redeemer's 
 universal reign. What advantages are conferred, what 
 obligations are devolved, by such a state of things as 
 this upon the rising ministry I What a privilege to be 
 called to thrust in the sickle when the fields are white, 
 already to harvest! What mighty responsibility to be 
 charged with the spiritual interests of the church, when 
 she is moving forward with an ever increasing rapidity! 
 It were bad enough to be an indolent, inefficient min- 
 ister of Christ in any circumstances; but to be so now, 
 would seem like a deliberate attempt to obstruct the 
 chariot wheels of Zion's King. A minister sleeping at 
 his post amidst the deepest darkness, were a pitiable ob- 
 ject; but who shall describe the sin and the shame of 
 being found asleep, when the light of the sun of right- 
 eousness shines with so much strength that the church is 
 expecting soon to see it brighten into millennial glory? 
 In attemptmg an outline of Dr. Richards's character, 
 it is not necessary, even if it were possible, to distin- 
 guish accurately between the provinces of nature and 
 of grace; to show how much he was indebted for his 
 greatness and excellence to God's creating power and 
 goodness, and how much to the sanctifying influences 
 of his Spirit, and how much to the benignant orderings 
 
20 ESSAY ON THE CHARACTER 
 
 of his providence, for the favourable development ot 
 his intellectual and moral faculties. Instead of insti- 
 tuting any comparison between these several agencies 
 in the formation of his character, we contemplate it as 
 actually formed in all its noble and goodly proportions; 
 and though the view we take of it be a rapid and 
 general one, it can hardly fail to minister to our growth 
 in virtue and usefulness. 
 
 To begin with what was external and visible — Dr. 
 Richards was eminently favoured in respect to his 
 person. He had a fine, commanding stature, towering 
 above men of ordinary and even extraordinary dimen- 
 sions. He was every way well proportioned, and 
 though his movements were not otherwise than easy, 
 yet they were perhaps characterized rather by dignity 
 than gracefulness. In his face there was a delightful 
 blending of the intellectual and the moral: there was 
 expressed in it an honesty that invited confidence, a 
 generosity that awakened admiration, a tenderness that 
 could wake to the first notes of sorrow, a firmness of 
 purpose that was like the everlasting hills, and a power 
 of thought that inspired even the casual passer-by with 
 respect and veneration. And his manners were in fine 
 keeping with his person: they were bland and digni- 
 fied, without the semblance of affectation or austerity 
 on the one hand, or of any thing that approached 
 to levity on the other. In short, he was a fine 
 specimen of a Christian gentleman. His majestic 
 form, his bright and cheerful countenance, the tout en- 
 semble of his manner, prepossessed the stranger in his 
 favour before he opened his lips; and it is hardly ne- 
 
OF THE REV. JAMES RICHARDS, D. D. 21 
 
 cessary to say that when he did speak, all that was 
 promised in his appearance was fulfilled in his con- 
 versation. 
 
 It must be acknowledged, that in respect to the ad- 
 vantages of mere person, it is not given to men to 
 exercise any control; this being a matter which the 
 Creator has kept entirely in his own hands. But it is 
 otherwise in regard to the manners; and though even 
 here some have originally much the advantage of others, 
 yet every one, and especially every one whose lot is cast 
 amidst decent society, may, if he will, avoid offensive pe- 
 culiarities, — may render himself at least acceptable, if 
 not attractive. It is the more important to advert to this 
 subject here, as it cannot be doubted that the intellectual 
 and moral attainments of many a clergyman are under- 
 valued and his usefulness not a little abridged, simply 
 from his neglect of those numberless and nameless 
 little things which enter into the character of a gentle- 
 man. A clergyman, from the very nature of his vo- 
 cation, moves in all circles of society, not excepting 
 the highest; and if he have no respect to decent and 
 polite usages, — if he offend at every step by his rude- 
 ness and vulgarity, even though it be the effect of mere 
 ignorance, it is impossible but that a revolting associa- 
 tion with him and even with his office will be estab- 
 lished in many minds. It is possible indeed that a man 
 may have such transcendant intellectual powers as shall 
 in some measure neutralize this unpropitious influence; 
 but there is no man whose powers are so great but that 
 he would accomplish far more with good manners than 
 without them. Fortunately there has been an adraira* 
 3* 
 
22 ESSAY ON THE CHARACTER 
 
 ble treatise on this subject, written by a venerable pro- 
 fessor in one of our theological seminaries — himself 
 one of the finest examples of " clerical manners and 
 habits," — which every student of divinity ought to 
 read and inwardly digest, till it has had its legitimate 
 effect in forming him for the most cultivated society. 
 It is easy to speak of Dr. Richards's intellect, as in- 
 deed it is of his whole character, from the remarkable 
 clearness of his mental operations, as well as from the 
 just proportions in which his mind in its different facul- 
 ties was constituted. He possessed an uncommon 
 quickness of perception: the difficulties that beset any 
 subject he would often discover at a glance, when a 
 more sluggish but perhaps equally powerful intellect, 
 would linger in a protracted course of investigation. 
 But notwithstanding he saw quickly and clearly, he 
 was as far as possible from being precipitate in his con- 
 clusions: he would hold an abstruse subject in earnest 
 and patient inquiry, throwing his mind into a great 
 variety of attitudes and bringing it into every light that 
 he could command, until he had become satisfied that he 
 had reached, if not the ultimate limit of human inves- 
 tigation, — at least the remotest point to which his own 
 faculties could carry him. His mind was constituted 
 with far more than a common degree of strength; — 
 while he looked at subjects critically and carefully, he 
 laid hold of them also with a comprehensive and vigor- 
 ous grasp, and sometimes with an intensity of spirit 
 that was nearly allied to enthusiasm. As he was con- 
 ducted to the result of his inquiries by successive and 
 distinctly marked steps, so he had usually no difficulty 
 
OF THE REV. JAMES RICHARDS, D. D. 23 
 
 in making what was clear to himself equally clear to 
 others. But for nothing was he more distinguished in 
 the character of his mind than practical common sense, 
 far reaching sagacity, the ability to form a right estimate 
 of men and things, and to discover at a glance the 
 remoter bearings of human conduct. He was not de- 
 ficient in taste; though it is not improbable that in this 
 respect he suffered some disadvantage from his early 
 embarrassments resulting in the premature termination 
 of his college course. His WTitings give evidence of 
 little imagination; and there is reason to believe that 
 this faculty had less prominence in his intellectual con- 
 stitution than any other. 
 
 Dr. Richards was not more favoured in respect to his 
 intellectual than his moral qualities. He had not only 
 a nice perception but an exquisite sense of right and 
 wrong, and out of this arose an integrity so strongly 
 marked that malice itself scarcely dared to assail it. 
 Notwithstanding his great sagacity, which it was diffi- 
 cult even for the most wary to surprise or circumvent, 
 he was always found on the high ground of fair and 
 honest dealing; and though he was almost sure to de- 
 tect the arts of the cunning and unscrupulous, yet no 
 one had the least reason to fear that he would, under 
 any circumstances, take an unworthy advantage. He 
 was condescending in smaller matters, and would cheer- 
 fully yield an opinion or a measure which he deemed 
 unirajiortant, for the sake of preserving harmony; but 
 in a matter which involved principle and conscience, 
 no man perhaps w^as ever more inflexible. He was be- 
 nevolent, generous, magnanimous, in his dispositions; 
 
24 ESSAY ON THE CHARACTER 
 
 he was alive to every project for meliorating^ the con- 
 dition of his fellow men; he never manifested a spirit 
 of triumph over a fallen foe; he wept over the infirmi- 
 ties and sins as well as the miseries of his fellow crea- 
 tures; and he rejoiced exceedingly in every thing that 
 foretold the reign of peace and truth and righteousness 
 in the earth. If his Christian character is to be dis- 
 tinctly considered, then it must be said that it embodied 
 all the graces of the gospel in unusual purity and 
 beauty and power; the depth of his humility, the 
 fervour of his devotion, the strength of his charity, the 
 heavenliness of his temper, and the consistency of his 
 walk, all combined to impart to his character as a dis- 
 ciple of Christ an unwonted attractiveness and eleva- 
 tion. 
 
 It is evident from the preceding remarks, — and the 
 fact is otherwise well attested, — that there must have 
 been a remarkable symmetry pervading Dr. Richards's 
 entire character: the physical, the intellectual, the 
 moral, the spiritual, were so admirably commingled, 
 that it seemed as if the balance between the different 
 faculties of his nature was well nigh perfect. And it 
 admits of no question that a character formed after such 
 a model is best adapted to extensive usefulness. The 
 world are indeed accustomed to bestow their admiration 
 more upon what is striking and eccentric; they prefer 
 the startling and brilliant course of the meteor, to the 
 regular and powerful shining of the sun; but in this pre- 
 ference they give little evidence of wisdom. If the 
 whole history of the church could be brought to testify in 
 relation to this matter, it would be found that those who 
 
OF THE REV. JAMEB RICHARDS, D. D. 25 
 
 have lent the most efficient aid in promoting the cause of 
 Christ, and whose memories are cherished with the 
 highest respect and gratitude after they are gone, are not 
 usually the men who have enjoyed the highest reputation 
 during their lives foi what is commonly called genius; — 
 on the contrary, they are the men whose intellectual 
 and moral constitution at once disposes and enables 
 them to discharge all their duties with fidelity and 
 alacrity; — men of sound judgment and quick sagacity 
 and tender conscience and devout, philanthropic and 
 magnanimous feelings, whose course is as noiseless, yet 
 as steady, as the march of the sun through the heavens. 
 There are indeed instances in which eccentric, very 
 eccentric men, are rendered eminently useful; and they 
 are enabled to meet certain exigencies to which, with 
 a different constitution, they would be utterly inade- 
 quate. But these cases form exceptions from the 
 general rule. And it is not too much to say that when- 
 ever a young man of great eccentricity enters the 
 ministry, there is danger, and unless he possesses extra- 
 ordinary piety, — imminent danger, that as much of evil 
 as of good will hang upon his footsteps. He may indeed 
 be much talked of, and talked of even with admiration; 
 and yet the very things which provoke this admiration, 
 may not improbably const hute the most formidable 
 clogs upon his Christian and ministerial usefulness. Let 
 it always be remembered that eccentricity supposes 
 imperfection; — it supposes either defect or excess in 
 some part of our nature. In the character of the Su- 
 preme there is not the semblance of eccentricity; nor 
 is there any thing that approaches it in the character 
 
26 
 
 ESSAY ON THE CHARACTER 
 
 of the Lord Jesus Christ as it was exhibited on the 
 earth. They who come nearest to the standard of 
 perfect excellence, are those who reach the highest 
 point of improvement in respect to all their faculties. 
 
 Dr. Ricnards's characteristics as a preacher were just 
 what might have been expected, in view of the 
 peculiar qualities of his mind and heart. His discourses 
 were generally written, with the exception of the 
 closing part, which he usually left to be supplied, so far 
 at least as the language was concerned, by his feelings 
 at the moment. They were characterized by great 
 simplicity and perspicuity of style, and by strict logical 
 accuracy in th-i arrangement of the different parts, so 
 that a child might easily follow and comprehend him. 
 The doctrinal, the practical, the experimental, were 
 mingled in them in just proportions; so that it was 
 impossible to listen to them attentively, without gaining 
 more enlarged views of divine truth, and finding fresh 
 inducements to the discharge of duty. No subject 
 seems to have occupied his thoughts more habitually, 
 or to have contributed more to fix the tone of his 
 ministrations than the character and claims of God; 
 and in his exhibition of these he is believed to have put 
 forth his greatest power in the pulpit. His manner 
 w^as sober, dignified, earnest. His voice was com- 
 manding and his utterance rapid, — sometimes so rapid 
 as to become slightly indistinct; but what gave to his 
 manner its greatest attraction was the fervour of his 
 spirit breathing in every expression and glowing in 
 every feature. It was not at the option of any hearer to 
 believe or not to believe that his utterances in the 
 
OF THE REV. JAMES RICHARDS, D. D. 21 
 
 pulpit were from the very depths of his spirit: the im- 
 pression that this was so, was so irresistible, that it may 
 reasonably be doubted whether it was ever a matter of 
 question with any one who listened to him. Even 
 those who may have differed widely from him in his 
 religious views, were still constrained to feel that he 
 was giving expression to his own deep and earnest 
 convictions. It must be acknowledged that he was not 
 in the common acceptation of the w^ord an eminently 
 popular preacher, — that is, a preacher whom the multi- 
 tude would run after in blind admiration; but they 
 who coveted sound scriptural instruction, and they w^ho 
 were anxious to be directed into the path of life, and 
 they w^ho could sympathize with the exercise of a spirit 
 glow^ing with love to God and man, never failed to 
 place a high estimate upon his ministrations. And the 
 results of his preaching were such as its character would 
 lead us to anticipate. It was owned by the Spirit of 
 God as an effective instrumentality in connection with 
 some of the most extensive and powerful revivals'which 
 have been enjoyed in the American church. 
 
 If it be conceded that in some respects the style of 
 preaching has been improved in latter years, it certainly 
 admits of great doubt whether in other respects it has 
 not proportionally deteriorated. The desire to avoid 
 the appearance of formality has in too many cases 
 driven out all method; and the preacher, in order to 
 prevent himself from being anticipated in his thoughts, 
 leads his hearers through such deep mazes that when 
 he is at the end of his discourse, they know" not where 
 they have been, or how they have reached the point to 
 
28 ESSAY ON THE CHARACTER 
 
 which he has conducted them. And then there are 
 those too who seem to do homage to the intellectual 
 and the philosophical, at the expense of the evangelical 
 and the spiritual; who preach much upon the beauty 
 of virtue, but little upon the love of Christ; whose 
 discourses, if they were to be judged as essays, would 
 be pronounced s^dendid, but if judged as sermons, are 
 miserably jejune and poor. It were well if all the 
 young ministers of the present day who have reformed 
 themselves into this mode of preaching, would be con- 
 tented to sit at the feet of Dr. Richards. They are 
 sacrificing the mighty power that resides in their office, 
 when legitimately exercised, to a dream of vain ambi- 
 tion. They are preparing the church to put on the 
 garments of heaviness, because her spiritual energy 
 and vitality are gone. They are making themselves 
 responsible for evil which is visible and palpable now, 
 but which may have only begun to operate when they 
 are called to their account. May Heaven deliver us 
 from these erratic untoward tendencies that are disco- 
 verable here and there in the rising ministry. Let it 
 be a maxim with every young preacher and every 
 student in theology, that, in the construction of his 
 discourses, however original he may be, he never leads 
 his hearers by a way in which they get bewildered, — 
 that however argumentative he may be, he never 
 substitutes the deductions of his own reason for the 
 substantial realities of God's word. 
 
 Few men have been more eminently qualified than 
 Dr. Richards for the successful discharge of pastoral 
 duties. His fine social qualities gave him ready access 
 
OF THE REV. JAMES RICHARDS, D. D. 29 
 
 to persons of all classes; his excellent judgment enabled 
 him to adapt his conversation with a discreet reference 
 to circumstances and characters; his devoted piety led 
 him in all his intercourse to regard chiefly the spiritual 
 interests of all ; his unsuspected generosity and sincerity 
 secured to him an almost unbounded confidence; and 
 his own wakeful sensibilities and sympathies rendered 
 him most welcome as well as most useful amidst scenes 
 of calamity and sorrow. Much as he was respected for 
 his efforts in the pulpit, perhaps it is not too much to 
 say that he was yet even more beloved for his labours 
 out of it; and it is confidently believed that those who 
 have enjoyed the privilege of his ministry embalm in 
 their deepest gratitude the memory of his pastoral 
 qualities. 
 
 It cannot be denied that some men are constituted 
 with qualifications for the pastoral oflSce, which no 
 amount of efl^ort could secure to others; and hence while 
 some have wrought with the greatest advantage in the 
 pulpit, others have been chiefly useful in the discharge 
 of the more private duties of the ministry. The great 
 Edwards is said to have had little to do with his con- 
 gregation except from the pulpit; and there he exhibited 
 a power which was well nigh unrivalled; whereas 
 some others who have been signally blessed in turning 
 souls to righteousness, have scarcely been heard of as 
 preachers, but have been eminently favoured in respect 
 to their pastoral qualifications. No doubt the perfec- 
 tion of the ministry consists in the union of the preacher 
 and the pastor; and every one who enters the sacred 
 office is bound to exemplify both to the extent of hia 
 4 
 
30 
 
 ESSAY ON THE CHARACTER 
 
 ability^ and though it is too much to say, (for experi- 
 ence would disprove the assertion) that the two may 
 not be in some measure separated in consistency with 
 usefulness and even eminent usefulness, yet we are not, 
 in any ordinary case where such a disjunction exists, to 
 look for the highest results of the ministry. Because 
 Jonathan Edwards is said not to have been a pastor, 
 let no young minister imagine that it is safe for him to 
 neglect his pastoral duties on the ground of being 
 eminent in the pulpit: certainly let him not come to 
 this conclusion until he is satisfied that he has Edwards's 
 power both in the pulpit and in the closet. It must be 
 confessed that visiting regularly and frequently from 
 house to house, is, by no means, the easiest part of a 
 minister's duty; but it is vastly important not only for 
 its direct but indirect influence, — not only for the 
 immediate good which may be accomplished by this 
 kind of intercourse, in administering appropriate in- 
 struction and counsel, but in the greater good will 
 which it secures to the minister from his people and the 
 more earnest attention which is rendered, on account of 
 it, to his public ministrations. 
 
 . Notwithstanding the eminence to which Dr. Richards 
 attained in the discharge of the ordinary duties of the 
 ministry, it was probably in the chair of a Professor of 
 Theology, that he rendered the most important service 
 to the church and gathered the most enduring honors 
 to his own name. He was in all respects well qualified, 
 and in some eminently so, for this important station. 
 He was familiar with the ablest theological writers of 
 by-gone days; but while there were those among them 
 
OF THE REV. JAMES RICHARDS, D. D. 
 
 31 
 
 whom he regarded with great veneration and to whose 
 general views of Christian doctrine he cordially sub- 
 scribed, yet he called no mere man master; he recog- 
 nized no authority as ultimate but the authority of 
 God's word. He studied the Bible continually and 
 earnestly in the languages in which it was written, as 
 God's word; divesting himself, so far as possible, of 
 the prejudice of education and of every thing like 
 superstitious reverence for uninspired authority ; com- 
 paring scripture with scripture, and never intermitting 
 his enquiries, till he had become satisfied in respect to 
 the divine testimony. Here he rested as upon a rock; 
 ready always to defend his own convictions with calm- 
 ness, and yet with power. His taste and ability for 
 philosophical investigation in connection with the 
 quickness and clearness of his perceptions on every 
 subject, and a naturally fervid spirit that could easily 
 kindle into a generous enthusiasm, gave him a great 
 advantage in communicating instruction; and though 
 he held his students in earnest and profound thought, 
 yet they always felt that he was leading them in a 
 broad and luminous path. As there was no tendency 
 in his mind, so neither was there in his system, to ex- 
 tremes. He maintained with equal zeal the authority 
 of God's law on the one hand and the fullness and free- 
 ness of redemption on the other; — the obligation of the 
 sinner to obey God's commandments, his utter inexcu- 
 sableness for not obeying them, and his entire depend- 
 ance for salvation on the sovereign grace of God in 
 Christ. He regarded philosophy as a handmaid and 
 only a handmaid to Christianity; and he took care in 
 
32 ESSA.Y ON THE CHARACTER 
 
 showing its bearings on Christian doctrines, that it did 
 not mar their consistency, or neutralize their power or 
 mould-them into another gospel. His views of divine 
 truth were chiefly of the old New England orthodox 
 school; though he regarded the differences w^hich 
 existed in the Presbyterian church in the earlier part of 
 his ministry as in no wise interfering with substantial 
 unity of sentiment. 
 
 In his private intercourse with his students he w^as 
 always condescending and amiable; ready to answ^er 
 their inquiries, to counsel them in difficulty, and espe- 
 cially to do every thing in his power in aid of their 
 spiritual progress. The consequence was that they 
 regarded him with a truly filial feeling; and if there 
 were any in respect to whom it was otherwise, the fact 
 only needed to be known, to fix them in no very en- 
 viable place in public estimation. 
 
 Nor ought it to be omitted, in this connection, that 
 Dr. Richards was an uncommonly skilful, even an 
 eminent financier. No doubt this was to be referred 
 partly to his great natural sagacity, and partly to the 
 necessity of the most rigid economy induced by his 
 early straitened circumstances. While he was as far 
 as possible from any thing like meanness, — so far that 
 he was generous and even noble in his dispositions, — 
 he took care that nothing in his own pecuniary concerns 
 was left at loose ends; and the same spirit of exact 
 calculation he exhibited in reference to the concerns of 
 others, and especially of the institution with which he 
 was connected. He became connected with it while it 
 was yet in its infancy; and he identified himself with 
 
OF THE REV. JAMES RICHARDS, D. D. 33 
 
 it in all its earlier and later pecuniary struggles; and 
 but for his great wisdom and energy and perseverance, 
 it seems scarcely possible that even its existence should 
 have been continued. He was often abroad among the 
 churches soliciting the means of relieving the seminary 
 from its embarrassments, and giving increased efficiency 
 to its operations; and the high veneration with which 
 his character was every where regarded, rendered his ap- 
 plications frequently successful, where those of perhaps 
 any other man would have failed. And he managed the 
 funds as well as collected them; he knew how to husband 
 every thing to the best advantage, and the most watchful 
 and jealous friends of the seminary had full confidence 
 that every thing in respect to financial matters was mov- 
 ing forward securely, while it was under his direction. 
 Those who would form a suitable estimate of the 
 amount of service w'hich he rendered to that institution, 
 must look much beyond the faithful discharge of his 
 duties as a theological professor: they must remember 
 that for several years the institution well nigh had its 
 being in his unremitted efforts often made under the 
 pressure of great bodily infirmity, to meet its necessary 
 annual expenses. 
 
 It is obvious to the least reflection that nothing in- 
 volves more immediately the interests of the church, 
 than the character of those to whom is committed the 
 training of her ministry. To say nothing here of the 
 paramount importance of their holding the truth in its 
 purity and having all the requisite intellectual furni- 
 ture for its illustration and defence, — the fact that they 
 lack common prudence, or eminent piety, ox that they 
 4* - 
 
34 ESSAY ON THE CHARACTER 
 
 are prone to speculate where inspiration hath inter- 
 posed its authoritative mandate, is of itself enough 
 utterly to disqualify them for such a station. Let a 
 spirit of the most liberal inquiry be encouraged, only 
 let not human reason intrude into the province of faith. 
 Let the faculties be tasked to the utmost, only let due 
 care be taken that they operate in the right direction. 
 If a theological professor, from taste or habit or any 
 other cause, suffers himself to become a mere metaphy- 
 sical dreamer before his class, rather than a sober ex- 
 pounder of the divine verities, it may confidently be 
 expected that many at least who listen to him will not 
 only imbibe the same spirit, but will carry it with them 
 to mar and neutralize their ministrations in subsequent 
 life. 
 
 Great importance is moreover to be attached to the 
 manners, the general bearing in society, of young men 
 who enter the ministiy; and in this respect also, it is 
 of great moment that they have good models in their 
 instructors. However we may regret that there are 
 many who can not discern substantial merit through so 
 thin a veil as ungraceful or unpolished manners, the 
 fact admits of no question; and there are at this mo- 
 ment not a few clergymen in our own country who 
 occupy places of less importance than they might have 
 done, and probably would have done, if they had been 
 more at home in cultivated society. Dr. Richards, 
 though he enjoyed few advantages in early life for the 
 cultivation of his manners, was nevertheless a fine ex- 
 ample of a Christian gentleman; was always attentive 
 to tlie courtesies of life, and never neglected any of the 
 
OF THE REV. JAMES RICHARDS, D. D. 35 
 
 thousand nameless things fitted to minister to the ease 
 and comfort of those around him. It was worth a 
 great deal to his pupils to live under such an influence. 
 Other pupils beside his know the value of such an 
 example from having it before them; and it were well 
 that all who enjoy such an advantage should remember 
 that the improvement or the neglect of it will probably 
 have much to do in deciding the measure of their use- 
 fulness. 
 
 Dr. Richards's general influence in the church, as 
 well while he had a pastoral charge as while he was a 
 theological professor, was equally benign, efficient and 
 extensive. His great wisdom and integrity were every 
 where acknowledged, and every where confided in. 
 He was a most active and useful member of ecclesias- 
 tical judicatories; and in cases of difficulty especially, 
 great reliance was placed on his judgment and counsel. 
 He was chosen moderator of the General Assembly at 
 the age of thirty -seven; an honour rarely conferred upon 
 an individual so young; but he discharged the duties 
 of the office with great propriety, dignity and accept- 
 ance. He was one of the master spirits in the great 
 benevolent movements of the day, — not only in sus- 
 taining, but originating them; and when he was taken 
 away from this department of Christian eflfort, it seemed 
 as if an armour-bearer had failed. In short, such was 
 his reputation as an eminently sagacious and honest 
 man, and a devoted Christian, that there was scarcely 
 any important project having a bearing on the interests 
 of the chuich, formed within the range of his influ- 
 ence, but that his wisdom in counsel or his energy in 
 
36 ESSAY ON THE CHARACTER 
 
 action, was put in requisition for the accomplishment 
 of it. 
 
 During the latter years of Dr. Richards's life he was 
 tried in common with many other good men, by the 
 grievous disturbances that existed in the Presbyterian 
 church. He was an attentive and deeply interested 
 observer of the inroads of that fanatical spirit which 
 about the year 1S27 or '28, began its desolating ope- 
 rations in western New York. He was ready to 
 admit that, as in days of old, there might be some com- 
 mingling of good with the evil; but he entertained not 
 a doubt that it was chiefly a ministration of fanaticism 
 and error; and with this conviction, he set his face 
 against it as a flint. He resisted at the expense of 
 being denounced as an enemy of revivals; at the ex- 
 pense even of being most offensively, not to say 
 calumniously, prayed for by some of his own students; 
 for with all the precaution that he could use, the storm 
 swept through the seminary; and while some were 
 swept away, others 'prudently bent to the blast, and 
 others still stood up with their venerable professor in 
 the attitude of stern and dignified resistance. Suffice 
 it to say that the views which he maintained were the 
 same in which the Christian community now generally 
 repose; to which it may be added many have long 
 since returned, who, for a season, yielded to the popu- 
 lar impulse, and both in theory and in practice set at 
 naught the first principles of evangelical order. 
 
 But notwithstanding Dr. Richards's vigorous and 
 hearty opposition to the system of new measures and 
 to the attempted innovations upon the faith of the 
 
OF THE REV. JAMES RICHARDS, D. D. 37 
 
 Presbyterian church, he was not prepared for the ulti- 
 mate remedy which the General Assembly adopted for 
 curing these disorders — the excision of the three west- 
 ern Synods. He believed that to have been both 
 unconstitutional and unwise; but it impaired not his 
 confidence or his affection for the great and good men 
 who differed with him, and he rejoiced in the belief 
 that at no distant day, the two branches of the church 
 would again be united in greater purity and love. 
 That grateful anticipation seems now to be cherished 
 by a constantly increasing number; and before this 
 generation shall have passed away, it is perhaps safe 
 to predict that it will be fully realized. 
 
 Dr. Richards was eminently favoured in his life, and 
 he w^as not less favoured in his death. His latter years 
 were years of great feebleness; but he was still, with 
 slight interruptions, able to discharge his duties as a 
 professor, and not unfrequently to preach in the town 
 or the neighborhood. The waning of his life was as 
 gradual and as glorious as the going down of the sun. 
 He had some afHictions in his old age, but the darkest 
 clouds that gathered over him were fringed with bright 
 hues from the sun of righteousness. Whether in 
 sorrow or in joy he sustained himself with the dignity 
 of a patriarch. He was blessed in his family; blessed 
 in the circle of his friends; blessed in all his relations; 
 and when he was gathered into the community of the 
 glorified, there was deep mourning on Earth, corres- 
 ponding no doubt to the joyful welcome that he met in 
 Heaven. 
 
 Shortly after his death a volume of his theological 
 
38 ESSAY ON THE CHARACTER 
 
 lectures was published, in connection with the sketch of 
 his life already referred to, which even those who may 
 not fully accord with his views, will acknowledge, are 
 highly creditable to him as a judicious, acute and able 
 theologian. Many of his old friends, especially those 
 who were accustomed long to enjoy the benefit of his 
 ministry, felt that they should more easily recognize 
 him in his sermons which were addressed to themselves 
 than in his lectures which were designed for his stu- 
 dents; and it is in obedience to such a wish that thei 
 selection contained in the present volume is given to 
 the public. It is not claimed for them that they are 
 either brilliant or elaborate productions. They w^ere 
 written in the ordinary course of weekly preparation for 
 the sabbath, without the least expectation on the part 
 of the author that they would ever see the light; and 
 they are probably little, if any, superior to his ordinary 
 discourses. It will be the reader's fault, however, if 
 they do not serve to render his views of divine truth 
 more clear, to quicken and elevate his religious sensi- 
 bilities, and to make him more conscientious and earnest 
 in the various duties of the Christian life. I have 
 cheerfully complied with the request of his family to 
 introduce the work with this prefatory notice of his 
 character, as it has given me an unexpected opportunity 
 of bearing testimony to his worth, and rearing a slight 
 monument to his honoured and cherished memory. 
 
SERMONS. 
 
 SERMON I. 
 
 GOD'S UNIVERSAL PRESENCE. 
 
 PSALMS CXXXIX; 7, 8, 9, 10. 
 " Whither shall I go from thy Spirit ? or whither shall I fee from 
 thy presence'^ If I ascend up into Heaven, thou aii there; if I 
 make my bed in Hell, behold thou art there; if I take the ivings 
 of the mornijig and dwell in the uttermost paHs of the sea, even 
 there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me." 
 
 Had we no other proof of the inspiration of the 
 scriptures, the very description which they give of God, 
 w^ould go far in supporting this claim. In no other 
 writings can we find such exalted sentiments, which 
 never clash with each other, and which never verge in 
 the slightest degree, to any thing inconsistent with the 
 most absolute perfection. When they speak of his 
 moral character, it is with a dignity and purity alto- 
 gether unrivalled. When they describe his natural 
 attributes, — his eternity, his immensity, his power, there 
 is a sublimity of thought and a force of expression 
 wholly peculiar to themselves. W^hence can this pe- 
 culiarity arise? Were not the poets and orators of 
 heathen antiquity men of transcendent genius, as well 
 
40 god's universal presence. 
 
 as of highly cultivated powers? Could not Homer and 
 Virgil, Demosthenes and Cicero, rise to the lofty con- 
 ceptions of a Moses, David or Isaiah? The truth is, 
 the writers of the scriptures, were much better ac- 
 quainted with the glorious majesty of Heaven and 
 Earth, than any of the ancient heathen; and therefore 
 could speak of him in a manner more worthy of his 
 exalted character. They had more than the light of 
 human reason, or the effulgence of the loftiest genius 
 to guide them. They were holy men of God, who 
 spake as they were moved by the Holy Ghost. Their 
 powers were elevated and enlarged, by a special, divine 
 influence; and hence their conceptions are marked with 
 a grandeur and simplicity, which demonstrate their 
 heavenly origin. 
 
 The passage just read in your hearing, and indeed 
 the entire psalm from which it is taken, may be re- 
 garded as a striking illustration of this remark. In 
 vain will you search the celebrated writings of Greece 
 and Rome, to find any thing which can equal it in sub- 
 limity. " Whither shall I go from thy Spirit? or whither 
 shall I flee from thy presence? If I ascend into 
 Heaven thou art there; ifl make make my bed in Hell — 
 behold thou art there; If I take the wings of the morn- 
 ing, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even 
 there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall 
 hold me." 
 
 The Psalmist here professes his belief in the univer- 
 sal presence of the Deity; and he does it in a manner 
 which shows that his mind is completely overwhelmed 
 with the subject. He not only felt that he was sur- 
 
god's unr'ersal presence. 41 
 
 rounded with God — where he was, but that it was 
 utterly impossible to go from his Spirit, or flee from his 
 presence, because that Spirit, that presence, w^as as 
 illimitable as the universe, — as boundless as immensity. 
 "If I ascend into Heaven, thou art there; if I make 
 my bed in Hell," — plunging into those dark and un- 
 fathomed mansions of the dead, w^here imagination 
 loses itself in the obscure abyss — " behold thou art 
 there; if I take the wings of the morning, and dwell 
 in the uttermost parts of the sea," — if, w^ith the swift- 
 ness of the shooting sunbeam, I transport myself to the 
 utmost verge of the western ocean — •'•' even there shall 
 thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me." 
 God's Spirit, he perceives, must necessarily be with him 
 to sustain him in his flight, and in whatever corner of 
 the universe he should light, still he would be sur- 
 rounded with God, w^hose almighty agency would be 
 employed in upholding his being, with all his varied 
 powers. And with no less certainty, he perceives the 
 impossibility of escaping the notice of God's eye. " If 
 [ say surely the darkness shall cover me, — even the 
 night shall be light about me; yea the darkness hideth 
 not from thee; but the night shineth as the day: — the 
 darkness and the light are both alike to thee." 
 
 The scriptures hold but one language on the subject 
 of God's presence. They uniformly describe him as 
 filling immensity. Excluding all inferior and subordi- 
 nate deities, they represent him as the Creator, the Pre- 
 server, and Disposer of all things; — as being in the 
 Heavens above, and in the earth beneath, and as doing 
 his pleasure in all places of his dominion; and that, 
 5 
 
42 god's universal presence. 
 
 because he is necessarily over all, in all, and through 
 all. Wherever his works are, there they describe him 
 to be, in all the plenitude of his wisdom and his 
 power. It is in consequence of his universal presence 
 and agency that God himself puts these solemn ques- 
 tions — " Who is he that saith and it cometh to pass, 
 and the Lord commandeth it not? Is there evil in the 
 city, and the Lord hath not done it? Behold I create 
 light and I create darkness. I, the Lord, do all these 
 things." And again, " Can any hide himself in secret 
 places, that I shall not see him, saith the Lord: do not 
 I fill Heaven and Earth, saith the Lord. 
 
 But how is God present in all his works? Is he so 
 by his influence and by his agents merely? or is he so 
 by his very essence. He is so by his essence, as is 
 clearly implied in our text, and in various other passages 
 of scripture — " Whither shall I go from thy Spirit? — 
 or whither shall I flee from thy presence? It is God 
 himself, and not merely his influence or his agents, 
 which is here represented as filling the universe. How 
 indeed can it be otherwise, if it is as St. Paul declares 
 in his address to the Athenians — " That in him, we live 
 and move, and have our being.'' 
 
 But the Bible goes a step further, and asserts the 
 being of God to be absolutely illimitable and im- 
 measurable, — above and beyond all his works. " Be- 
 hold," says Solomon, " the Heaven of Heavens can not 
 contain thee, how much less this house that I have 
 built." It is plain, that he speaks of God's being, — 
 not of his providential influence, or his agency. But 
 if God not only fills the Heaven of Heavens — (and 
 
43 
 
 beyond these creation does not extend,) I say, if God 
 not only fills the Heaven of Heavens, but is above 
 and beyond them, as he certainly must be, if they 
 cannot contain him — then he is where his works are 
 not: and if he is where his works are not, can we set 
 bounds to his essence, or with any color of reason 
 suppose such bounds to exist? 
 
 That God's being is absolutely boundless, not only 
 pervading all things, but extending indefinitely beyond 
 them, is a doctrine, not of revelation alone, but of reason 
 also. That God is omnipresent, by which is commonly 
 understood his presence wuth all his works, appears 
 obviously to be a dictate of reason. If no cause can 
 act, where it is not, (and that it cannot, by any direct 
 and positive agency, is an axiom generally admitted,) 
 then wherever God operates, there must God be; his 
 agency must be regarded as conclusive evidence of his 
 presence. 
 
 It is utterly inconceivable that God should create a 
 being where he himself is not; and it is alike incon- 
 ceivable that he should uphold, or preserve a being 
 that he has created, w^ithout being present in this opera- 
 tion. But perhaps he does not uphold the creatures 
 which he has made: — perhaps, having given them an 
 existence, they have powder to preserve themselves in 
 being, independent of his agency or care! This can 
 never be said by a believer in revelation; since that 
 testifies not only that God is the Maker of all things, 
 but that by him, all things consist: nor can it be said 
 by him who rejects revelation, without contradicting 
 the current sense of mankind, who have always ac- 
 
44 
 
 knowledged the same power requisite to preserve as to 
 create. What indeed is preservation, but the continued 
 effect of that almighty agency which gave to the dif- 
 ferent orders of being their existence and their power? 
 Second causes, \ve know^, are concerned in this effect; 
 but what are second causes, and what their influence, 
 separate from the energetic wdll of the great First 
 Cause? It is as irrational as it is unscriptural to sup- 
 pose that any thing exists, or continues to exist, but 
 through his almighty agency directed to this end. 
 No man is so blind as not to see a power at work in 
 the vast movements of nature; — a power which operates 
 with design, and with directing and controlling efficacy 
 through all the multiplied forms of existence, in the 
 natural and moral world. What is this powder? It 
 certainly is not chance, (which by the way is no 
 power) for then it would not be so regular, and specific 
 in its operations. Is it nature, or the laws of nature? 
 What is nature, or its law^s, but the regular operation 
 of an infinitely wise and powerful Being, who, as he 
 gave existence to creatures, does not cease to preserve 
 and direct them? His powerful will alone constitutes 
 the whole energy of nature. Must he not be present 
 then in all places of his dominion? And must not the 
 mere fact of his working prove him to be wherever 
 his works are? 
 
 But it is not his omnipresence only, or his presence 
 with his works, that we are endeavoring to establish, 
 but his absolute immensity. We have asserted it as the 
 doctrine of the Bible, that God exists above and be- 
 yond his works; and that there is no imaginable space 
 
god's universal presence. 45 
 
 where he is not. And will not the deductions of reason 
 lead us to the same result? God, I take it to be certain, 
 is somewhere: — for I believe it impossible by any 
 species of abstraction, to form the idea of existence, 
 without place, any more than the idea of existence 
 without time. But if God exists somewhere, what is 
 there to limit his existence to any supposed region? 
 Why should he not inhabit immensity as well as 
 eternity? If his existence be limited, it cannot be from 
 any thing without; for as he is independent and un- 
 derived, he must, necessarily be before all other beings; 
 and the very same that he would have been had they 
 never existed. Their existence, therefore, can have no 
 effect in limiting or modifying his. Can his existence 
 then be limited from any thing within? To what 
 properties of his nature shall we refer to authorize 
 such a conclusion? Certainly not to his self-existence; 
 for that would lead us to say that the same reason why 
 he exists in any place, must be a reason for his existing 
 in every place; just as the ground of his existence at 
 any moment, must be a ground of his having existed 
 through all past duration, and will be a ground of his 
 existing forever. We can easily see that he exists 
 always, for the same reason that he exists at all; and 
 by the same mode of reasoning, we can see that he 
 must exist every where, for the same reason that he 
 exists any where. I know that finite beings can have 
 no adequate, and I may say positive idea of immensity. 
 -The very term is negative, and signifies space without 
 limits, or space to which all limit is denied. At the 
 same time, it is true, that we cannot divest ourselves of 
 5* 
 
46 god's universal presence. 
 
 the idea of immensity; nor can we conceive it possible 
 that God should not fill immensity, without supposing 
 an abridgment of his power. 
 
 Conceive the created universe of whatever extent 
 you will, still the imagination comes to its limit. 
 Multiply creation a thousand fold, and again the mind 
 flies to its utmost verge and fancies a void still beyond. 
 Is it reasonable to say that God does not exist without 
 or beyond these limits? Or, vrhich is the same thing, 
 that the creation, finite as it must be, is the boundary 
 of his being ? Might we not rather say, in the para- 
 doxical language of one of the ancients, that God is a 
 circle, whose centre is every where, and whose circum- 
 ference is no where ? Or in plain terms, that his exist- 
 ence is boundless? For if this be not the case, and 
 his existence is confined to his works, what must he 
 have been before those works existed ? And how can 
 he now extend those works? Can he operate where 
 he does not exist? Or does the nature and extent of his 
 being depend upon his own volition? To suppose that 
 there are any bounds to the divine existence, (I speak 
 in relation to space) — is. in our apprehension, not only 
 to set limits to his power, but to imply that he may 
 change place, — a thing as incompatible w^ith our ideas 
 of his self-existence and infinitude, as it is with his 
 immutability. 
 
 But waiving all abstract speculation, how shall we 
 conceive of the divine immensity? " We are tied 
 down," says one, " to a little spot, to a mere point. 
 But from this point let us extend our imaginations to 
 the distant mountains, and God is there, as well as here. 
 
GOD^S UNrV'ERSAL PRESENCE. 47 
 
 From thence let us extend our thoughts over all lands, 
 over all seas. Behold God is there likewise: and from 
 thence beyond the bounds of the earth, beyond the 
 moon, beyond the sun, beyond the fixed stars, beyond 
 all the worlds, and all the matter in the universe, still 
 God is there. Nor have you come, nor can you come, 
 where God is not. He is above all height, below^ all 
 depth, beyond all measure, and where there is nothing 
 else, still there is God." He pervades the universe 
 intimately and perfectly; and still the universe neither 
 bounds him, nor becomes a part of him. There is no 
 confusion of his nature, with that of his creatures. 
 " He is all in all, but above all, and distinct from all. 
 He penetrates the darkest recesses; but is yet purer 
 than the ether, clearer than the light." He is indivisi- 
 ble and impassible, — pervading all his works, sustain- 
 ing and acting upon them, w^hile nothing in the universe 
 sustains or acts upon him. 
 
 In the review of this subject, I remark, 
 1. That from the divine immensity, we may infer the 
 various attributes of God; — his spirituality, his omnipo- 
 tence, his immutability, his omniscience and eternity, and 
 perhaps too his holiness or moral rectitude. We have 
 not time to discuss this inference; but it is an axiom 
 in theology, that where there is one divine attribute, 
 there are all the rest; and it is inconceivable, that an 
 infinite attribute should belong to any other than an 
 infinite subject; and where the subject is infinite, it 
 draws after it considerations which show that all its 
 attributes are of the same illimitable character. But 
 without the aid of this argument, you can easily per- 
 
48 god's universal presence. 
 
 ceive that he who has immensity, can not be material, 
 but must be spiritual; for, otherwise, he could not 
 have called the material world into being; as two 
 material substances can never exist in the same place 
 at the same time. He who has immensity also, who 
 exists before all, and above all, must be both almighty 
 and eternah Having nothing to limit his existence in 
 point of space, he can have nothing to limit it in point 
 of time; and having given existence to all, he must of 
 course, have the control of all. For like reasons, he 
 must know all things. He is every where to see, and 
 consequently nothing can escape his notice. All that 
 has existed was the result of his purpose, and all that 
 shall exist, comes alike w^ithin the range of his coun- 
 sels. It is impossible, therefore, that the past and the 
 future should not be as open and naked to him as the 
 present. And to a being of such knowledge, and such 
 power, what conceivable motive can there be to depart 
 from the dictates of his own all-searching understand- 
 ing? He knows what is right, and why should he not 
 act according to his knowledge? It is obvious that 
 none of the motives which induce his creatures to 
 swerve from the path of rectitude, can have any place 
 with him. Even his natural perfections, in the very 
 nature of the case, exclude them. All this might be 
 clearly shown, could we descend to detail. But I con- 
 sider it more important to remark, 
 
 2. That the divine immensity presents in a strong 
 point of light, the miserable and degraded condition 
 of those who worship a local deity. Thus it w^as 
 with all the ancient idolaters— and thus it is with four- 
 
49 
 
 sixths of the human race still. Instead of lifting up 
 their eyes to a being who fills the universe with his 
 presence, and whom the universe itself can not contain, 
 they pay their devotions to gods as they suppose of 
 certain hills or valleys, temples or streams. They 
 know nothing of the greatness of the true God, nor of 
 the unspeakable glories which invest his sacred throne. 
 How^ much are they to be pitied by those on whom the 
 true light shines! And how ready should we be to 
 convey to them the knowledge of their infinite and 
 adorable Creator and Redeemer! This is a charity 
 to which the Christian world have at length awoke; 
 and it is a charity in which every friend of the living 
 God and of the human family will feel it a privilege 
 to embark. Do you know^ that God fills immensity; 
 that he is almighty and eternal; that he is infinitely 
 wise and infinitely good; that he is your Creator and 
 Lawgiver, your Redeemer and Judge; and will you 
 not impart this know^ledge to others, especially when 
 he himself tells you that they who are ignorant of him 
 shall perish ? But, 
 
 3. From the divine immensity w^e may learn a les- 
 son of humility. What little things are we, in com- 
 parison of the great God? Less than a mote in the 
 beams of the sun, or a drop of w^ater in the mighty- 
 ocean. Comparing ourselves with those beneath us, 
 our pride is apt to gather strength; and hence it is 
 that one poor w^orm is often seen proudly to elevate 
 itself against another. But how much wiser part 
 should we act, by contrasting our own littleness with 
 God's unspeakable greatness ! David was sometimes 
 
50 
 
 GOD S UNIVERSAL PRESENCE. 
 
 occupied in comparing himself with the immensity of 
 God's works, and we know the result was salutary. 
 It had the effect not only to humble him, as an insig- 
 nificant being, but to fill him with admiring and ador- 
 ing thoughts of God, and especially of his infinite 
 and amazing condescension. " When I consider thy 
 heavens," saith he, " the work of thy fingers — the 
 moon and the stars which thou hast ordained — what is 
 man, that thou art mindful of him, and the son of man 
 that thou visitest him?" He was astonished at the 
 insignificance of man; nor less astonished that God 
 should regard him in the midst of his mighty works 
 with such condescending kindness and care. The same 
 might be the efifect, were we oftener to look up to God, 
 and consider the immensity of his being. One would 
 think it could scarcely fail to convince us that we are 
 less than the least of all his mercies and lighter than 
 vanity. 
 
 4. The omnipresence of God, lays a foundation to 
 remark both the folly and the sin of sin. What 
 can set its folly in a stronger point of light? God has 
 not only given us laws worthy to be obeyed, but he is 
 always present to see whether w^e obey them. His all- 
 seeing eye is never turned from us a single moment. 
 Whether we wake or sleep, whether we weep or re- 
 joice, whether we adore or blaspheme, he is always 
 round about us, and his penetrating glance passes 
 through our souls. His almighty power and everlast- 
 ing mercy continually sustain us, while his justice is 
 nigh, and ready to cut us off. Who would think under 
 such circumstanceSj that we should dare to offend him? 
 
god's universal presence. 5 J 
 
 But the poor blinded sinner beholds him not. He fool- 
 ishly imagines that God is afar off, — too far to notice 
 his transgressions, or to inflict upon him the merited 
 punishment. Hence the language of his heart is, " Can 
 God judge through the dark cloud? Surely God doth 
 not see, neither will the Almighty regard it." The 
 presence of a servant or a child, is often sufficient to 
 deter him from sin; but the presence of the great God, 
 the Lord of Heaven and Earth, his Maker, and Judge, 
 is inadequate to produce this effect. What greater 
 proof can we have of human blindness and folly ? And 
 yet it is a folly, every where to be seen, and of which 
 thousands are habitually guilty. Why does the thief 
 dig through houses in the dark, which he has marked 
 out for himself in the day time? Why does the adul- 
 terer wait until the the twilight, saying '' no eye shall 
 see me?" Why do sinners of any description cast 
 around them the curtains of darkness, and think it 
 enough, if they can but conceal their iniquity from the 
 eyes of mortals? — why, but because they forget, or do 
 not believe that the eye of their holy and eternalJudge 
 is upon them? We have called thisyb%, but it is folly 
 which borders on madness; — for can the fish escape 
 from the waters of the ocean through which it swims, or 
 the bird from the air through which it flies? If they can, 
 then can the sinner hide his works from the Lord, and 
 flee from the vengeance of him, in whom he lives, and 
 moves, and has his being. 
 
 But the divine immensity shows not only the folly, 
 but the exceeding sinfulness of sin. It does this by 
 teaching the greatness and glory of that Being against 
 
52 god's universal presence. 
 
 whom sin is committed, and the circumstances of 
 atrocity, which attend it. By how much greater God 
 is, by so much the more are we bound to respect his 
 authority; and by so much greater is our guilt, if we 
 violate that authority. What then must sin be, which 
 breaks the law, and insults the throne of the great 
 Eternal, — that Being who fills immensity with his 
 presence, who centers in himself infinite power, and 
 wisdom and goodness, and who has made the richest 
 display of all his perfections, in that immeasurable 
 kingdom which he has created and governs? Who 
 can conceive of the infinite baseness of that conduct, 
 which questions his authority, and tramples upon the 
 rights of his Godhead? And yet this is the character 
 of every sin, in whatever circumstances committed. 
 But the immensity of God's presence suggests a cir- 
 cumstance, which exceedingly aggravates the guilt of 
 sin; it teaches us to regard it as an audacious atTront 
 to his face. Sin is not committed behind his back, or 
 in some remote corner of the universe, never visited by 
 his presence. Even if it were, nothing could excuse 
 its guilt and presumption. But it is always done, while 
 he surrounds us, and penetrates us. How deeply this 
 enhances the demerit of sin, every one can see at a 
 glance. For shall not the presence of his glorious 
 Majesty restrain us? Shall we dare to offend him in 
 the very sight of his throne; with his almighty hand 
 stretched out before our eyes, and his authoritative 
 voice falling upon our ears? It would be difficult to 
 credit the fact, if we had not such painful proof of it, 
 both in ourselves and others. 
 
god's universal presence. 53 
 
 5. As the omnipresence of God argues the great 
 guilt of sin, so it likewise demonstrates the greatness 
 of his forbearance towards those that offend him. How 
 amazing that his wrath should not wax hot against 
 those, who continually trample upon his authority, 
 ■without fear or remorse; — who do it, and persevere in 
 doing it, in spite of his most solemn and earnest re- 
 monstrances, — treating his eternal Majesty as if his 
 sceptre was but a bug-bear, and his existence a dream! 
 We know how soon we kindle, when any one insults us 
 to our face; — especially if it be one who is below us, and 
 from whom we consider ourselves as entitled to more 
 immediate regard. 
 
 But the Lord is God, and not man; else the children 
 of iniquity would be speedily consumed. He is long 
 suffering to us ward, not willing that any should perish, 
 but that all should come to the knowledge of the truth. 
 He knows our iniquities, and all their aggravations; 
 for they are committed under the immediate notice of 
 his eye; but he knows also how to restrain his anger, 
 and to display the exceeding riches of his forbearance 
 and long-suffering. May we never mistake this for 
 forgetfulness; nor think that his long-suffering is an 
 act of forgiveness. 
 
 Finally. This subject presents a comfortable view 
 of divine providence; and invites us to place our 
 trust under the shadow of God's wings. Is he every 
 where? He is every where, the almighty, infinitely 
 wise and gracious God. His power and grace are as 
 near to us as his essence, and he cannot fail to be a 
 present helper to all those who know and put their 
 6 
 
54 
 
 trust in him. As the mountains are round about Jerusa- 
 lem, so the Lord is round about his people from hence- 
 forth, even forever. 
 
 Cultivate, my Christian friends, a sense of God's 
 presence. It will enlarge your conceptions of his divine 
 majesty. It will fortify your minds against temptation 
 — it will encourage and strengthen you in duty, — and 
 in times of darkness and trouble, cause your consolations 
 to abound. Trust in God, and you will have no cause 
 to fear, though the earth should be removed and the 
 mountains carried into the midst of the sea. 
 
SERMON II. 
 
 GOD'S THOUGHTS AND WAYS ABOVE OURS. 
 
 For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are my ways 
 your ways saith the Lord. For as the Heavens are higher than 
 the Earth, so are my ways higher than your way s^ and my thoughts 
 than your thoughts. 
 
 There needs no argument to show that there is an 
 infinite disparity between God's thoughts, and the 
 thoughts of his creatures; — betw^een his ways and their 
 ways. Every one is prepared to admit with the prophet, 
 that, as the Heavens are high above the Earth, so are 
 God's ways above our ways, and his thoughts above 
 our thoughts. And yet, strange as it may seem, there 
 is a proneness in us all, to judge of God by ourselves; 
 — to measure his wisdom by our wisdom; his right- 
 eousness by our righteousness ; and his goodness and 
 mercy by ours. Hence it comes to pass that there is so 
 little fear of his majesty, so little confidence in his 
 government, so little faith in his promise, and so little 
 hope in his mercy. 
 
 The wicked would tremble at the apprehension of 
 his wrath, if they did not either doubt his existence, or 
 fancy he was one altogether like themselves, having as 
 
little hatred for iniquity, and as little concern for the 
 maintenance of his authority as they: and the good 
 would cheerfully fly into his arms, at all times when 
 evils pressed or dangers threatened, if they did not 
 compare God with themselves, and entertain low and 
 unbecoming thoughts of his being, his attributes, or his 
 designs. To meet men at this point, and to remove 
 from them that jealousy and distrust, which is too apt 
 to rise, when he comes to them even with messages of 
 mercy, the Lord declares that his thoughts are not their 
 thoughts, nor his ways their ways. 
 
 He had just said by the prophet, " Let the wicked 
 forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts, 
 and let him return unto the Lord, and he will have 
 mercy upon him, and to our God for he will abundantly 
 pardon." But he knew their unbelief would consider 
 this as impossible, — or at least as stretching so far be- 
 yond the bounds of probability, as not seriously to 
 merit their attention, or offer a suitable ground for their 
 hopes. He points them, therefore, to the wide differ- 
 ence between his thoughts and their thoughts, his ways 
 and their ways, and illustrates it by a comparison which 
 instantly strikes and overpowers the mind; — a com- 
 parison whose beauty and sublimity nothing can sur- 
 pass. " For as the Heavens are higher than the Earth, 
 so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts 
 than your thoughts.''^ Not only the wide difference be- 
 tween God's thoughts, and ours, but their transcendent 
 excellence above ours, is strongly portrayed by this 
 beautiful similitude. We raise our eyes to the starry 
 Heavens, beyond which human sight cannot penetrate: 
 
god's thoughts and ways above ours. 57 
 
 ^ve behold the celestial orbs, with their sparkling and 
 cheering light, spread out over our habitations^ but at 
 such an immense distance above us, as to baffle our con- 
 ceptions the moment we attempt to compute, or even 
 to imagine it. Yet tliere, we behold as in a glass, the 
 immeasurable height, the boundless extent, the salutary 
 influence, of the mercy of Jehovah. There we see an 
 instructive emblem of the infinite superiority of all 
 God's thoughts and ways to ours, — a superiority, which 
 should render our confidence in him the most unshaken^ 
 and our worship of him the most humble and profound. 
 
 But the point to which I wish more especially to 
 direct your attention is. That God's ways are not as our 
 ways, 7wr his thoughts as our thoughts, hut that a wide 
 and astonishing difference exists between them. By 
 God's thoughts, we intend not his perceptions merely, 
 but his counsels, his purposes and designs: — and by his 
 ways, the execution of his purposes in the various 
 operations of his hand, whether in the creation, pre- 
 servation or government of the world. God's ways are 
 the interpretation of his thoughts and designs. His 
 thoughts are not our thoughts, w^e remark, 
 
 1. As there is no succession in them: they all exist 
 in his own infinite mind, at the same time, and without 
 any variation of their order, or the least shadow of 
 change. He has no new thoughts, and none, which 
 are not at all times equally piesent. Hence his view 
 of objects is always the same, and that view absolutely 
 perfect. It is altogether different with us. Our thoughts 
 follow each other in rapid succession, and are never the 
 same at one moment that they are at another, Many 
 *6 
 
58 god's thoughts and ways above ours. 
 
 of the same thoughts do indeed return; but it is always 
 with some new^ combinations, and with some diversity 
 in their character and order: and from this source it is, 
 that our views and impressions of objects are so fluc- 
 tuating, even where there is no radical change. Our 
 thoughts may fitly be compared to a stream, whose 
 waters flow on in constant succession, but whose depth 
 and breadth, though not perpetually the same, are at all 
 times extremely limited; while God's thoughts are 
 better resembled to an ocean, where the stream dis- 
 appears, and where there is neither bottom nor shore. 
 Which leads me to remark, 
 
 2. That God's thoughts are not as our thoughts, 
 because they embrace an infinitely greater number of 
 objects; they encompass the universe with all its parts, 
 with its infinite variety of movements; and that not 
 through any given period only, but from the first 
 moment of created existence, through the boundless 
 ages of an unwasting duration. Not a leaf in the 
 forest, not a grain of sand upon the shore, not a 
 mote which glitters in the sunbeam, not the merest 
 atom in all God's works, which is not the object of his 
 thoughts, and the subject of his eternal counsels. He 
 sees it through every part of its duratiou. He presides 
 over all its changes, he determines all its results, 
 whether single or combined. 
 
 How different is it with us. Our thoughts extend 
 but to a few things, even in the world which we in- 
 habit, while we are left almost in total ignorance of 
 the universe which surrounds us. Not only are we 
 creatures of yesterday, and comparatively know no- 
 
god's thoughts and ways above ours. 59 
 
 thing, but our sphere of observation is extremely 
 circumscribed; we have contemplated as yet but the 
 minutest portion of God's works. Like some insects 
 which never travel beyond the leaf on which they are 
 formed, we are, in a great measure, strangers to that 
 infinitude of objects, which spread through boundless 
 regions on every side. Nor is this all; how imperfect 
 are our conceptions of those objects which pass under 
 our notice. After all our research, we see but the mere 
 surface of things, and know nothing perfectly, in its 
 nature, qualities and relations. But as for God, his 
 way is perfect. All things lie open, and naked to his 
 view. He sees and pervades them in the most intimate 
 and perfect manner. Hence we observe, 
 
 3. That God's thoughts and purposes never change; 
 — a circumstance which renders them widely ditferent 
 from ours. Our schemes of operation are seldom laid 
 with such intelligence as not to undergo considerable 
 modification, as new events unfold, or as a deeper in- 
 vestigation presents the subject more fully before us. 
 Often we are obliged to abandon our plans altogether. 
 
 It is far otherwise with the Almighty: His counsels 
 are laid with such deep and unfathomable skill as never 
 to require alteration. He sees the end from the begin- 
 ning. He has a perfect knowledge of all that does, or 
 will, or can exist; and therefore with him, there is no 
 variableness or shadow of turning; there is no motive 
 to change. His views being the same, his purposes 
 must be unalterable. Hence we read, " He is of one 
 mind, and who can turn him?" There be many 
 
60 god's thoughts and ways above ours. 
 
 thoughts in man's heart, but the counsel of the Lord, 
 that shall stand. 
 
 4. We notice another striking and important differ- 
 ence between God's thoughts or purposes and ours, — 
 he is never disappointed. All his purposes go into full 
 effect. That which he determines, he accomplishes; 
 and accomplishes at the very time and by the very 
 means, he before appointed. Nothing of all his eternal 
 counsels, whether great or small, fails of its existence, 
 its manner or its end. 
 
 How extremely different with us. We purpose, but 
 often our purpose proves abortive; we do not effect the 
 thing we intend, and even when we do, the event not 
 unfrequently disappoints us. Things continually cross 
 our expectations; what we have often dreaded perhaps 
 never comes to pass, and what we have fully expected 
 and desired, is never realized. Nothing is more com- 
 mon than for our hopes to expand with eagerness and 
 delight on some future good, when nothing but the 
 grief of disappointment, and the darkness and bitterness 
 of despair are before us. To day our vessel leaves the 
 shore, with wide spread sails and prosperous winds: no 
 dark cloud lowers in the horizon, to excite our fear or 
 dampen our joy ; but ere to-morrow'ssun our sky is over- 
 cast; the winds howl; the storm descends; and we are 
 engulfed in the mighty weaves. But with God, every 
 thing moves on in an even course, according to his wise 
 and eternal counsels. The events that occur, so far from 
 crossing his expectations, only present a regular de- 
 velopement of the purposes of his own infinite and 
 unsearchable mind. 
 
god's thoughts and ways above ours. 61 
 
 Shall I remark, 
 
 5. That we find a great difference between God's 
 thoughts and ours, in the different ends which are pur- 
 sued by him and by us, even where the same events are 
 concerned. God's purposes and ours in this respect 
 often run counter to each other. We intend one thing 
 by a certain course; he intends another; and therein 
 displays the depth of his eternal counsels. It is thus 
 that the wise are often taken in their own craftiness, and 
 made to minister to purposes and designs, which they 
 would willingly and with all their might, have con- 
 tributed to destroy. See an illustration of this in the 
 history of Joseph. His brethren sold him into Egypt, 
 w-ith a view to prevent the accomplishment of his 
 dreams They did, how^ever, but fulfil the divine inti- 
 mation by the very steps which they took to counteract 
 it. They meant evil against Joseph, but God meant it 
 for good; intending thereby to nourish Jacob's family 
 in a time of famine, and to save much people alive; 
 and thus to pave the way for that illustrious manifesta- 
 tion of his own glory, which stood connected with the 
 future destination of the Israelites. 
 
 We see the same thing illustrated in the conduct of 
 the proud Assyrian king, whom God styles the rod of 
 his anger and the staff" of his indignation. He had 
 laid waste Israel and other nations, not with a view to 
 chastise them for their sins, or to fulfil any purpose of 
 the Almighty in regard to them, but solely to minister 
 to his pride, his covetousness and his ambition. His 
 views were totally different from God's; and therefore 
 when God said, " I will send him against an hypocri- 
 
62 
 
 GOD S THOUGHTS AND WAYS ABOVE OURS. 
 
 tical nation and against the people of my wrath will I 
 give him a charge, to take the spoil, and to take the 
 prey, and to tread them down like the mire in the 
 streets," he adds, " Howbeit, he meaneth not so, neither 
 doth his heart think so — but it is in his heart to de- 
 stroy and to cut off nations not a few." 
 
 The very interesting fact of our Lord's death pre- 
 sents a similar illustration of the same truth. Judas 
 had his ends in betraying Christ; the Jews had theirs 
 in accusing him and demanding his crucifixion; Pilate 
 had his in giving sentence against him contrary to his 
 own conscience, and the importunity of his bosom 
 friend; the soldiers had theirs in executing the orders 
 of their governor; and the powers of darkness doubt- 
 less had theirs, different probably from all the rest, in 
 stirring up and pushing forward all the guilty actors in 
 this scene; and God had his, not only in permitting, 
 but in so ordering and disposing events as to make the 
 death of Christ certain, and all the circumstances of it 
 precisely what they were. For we are expressly told 
 " that they did nothing to his holy child Jesus, but what 
 his hand and counsel had afore determined to be done." 
 What can impress us more that God's ways are not our 
 ways, nor his thoughts our thoughts, than such deep 
 and unsearchable v/orkings of his providence, where 
 the instruments he raises up pursue ends totally differ- 
 ent from his, and yet in the issue do but the more 
 effectually accomplish his own immutable counsels. 
 
 6. God's ways and thoughts are very different from 
 ours, in the estimate he puts upon objects and events 
 which stand related to our happiness. There are things 
 
god's thoughts and ways above ours. 63 
 
 which we deem of the utmost importance to ourselves 
 and others, which God, who takes all the circumstances 
 into view, regards as no favor at all, and v;hich there- 
 fore he will not grant or continue, however importu- 
 nately we may desire them; and there are things which 
 we deprecate as the greatest of all evils, which God 
 nevertheless deems necessary to our highest good, and 
 which he resolves shall take place, whatever may 
 be our prayers or wishes to the contrary. We have 
 reflected but little upon our own case, or that of our 
 friends, if we have not seen this remark often verified. 
 Most of our afflictions give us an important lesson on 
 this subject, always indeed when they are of the nature 
 of a gracious moral discipline. They consist in the 
 privation of some apparent good, or in the infliction of 
 some positive evil; but whenever they take place, we 
 have occasion to remark how diflferently God judges of 
 things from what we do. But if God's ways are dif- 
 ferent from ours in things which are undesirable to us, 
 and contrary to our wishes, they are certainly not less so, 
 7. In things that are dark and mysterious. And 
 how often does he pursue a path which we can not trace! 
 How often, both in his works of creation and provi- 
 dence, does he do things great and wonderful, and past 
 finding out! I do not now" speak of things whose hid- 
 den causes we can not investigate, or whose principles 
 and relations equally baffle our research; but of things 
 which apparently contradict our reason; which to say 
 the least, are precisely the reverse of what we should 
 have expected, antecedent to their occurrence. 
 In casting our eyes over the face of this world, how 
 
64 god's thoughts and ways above ours. 
 
 many things do we meet with which astonish and 
 confound us, in the formation of the earth, and in the 
 character and condition of its inhabitants? Who would 
 have expected so much water on the surface of the 
 globe; so many inaccessible mountains, — the region 
 of eternal frost and barrenness, — so many vast and 
 frightful deserts, unsuited for the habitation of either 
 man or beast? Who would have expected to find so 
 many noxious plants and animals, whose eifect seems 
 to us little else than to mar the other works of God? 
 Why is man an enemy to his Maker? Who could have 
 believed prior to the event, and reasoning only from 
 the holiness and goodness of God, that sin ever could 
 have found its way into the moral kingdom of Jehovah? 
 But here it is, and here it is likely to be in a greater 
 or less degree to all eternity. How strange is it, that 
 so great a portion of the human race, probably more 
 than one-half, are cut off before they are five years of 
 age ! How strange that, since a Saviour is provided, 
 so few of the human race have yet been brought to the 
 knowledge of his character and work, — that more than 
 four-fifths still remain in a state of heathenish darkness! 
 How passing strange that by far the greater part, 
 w^here the word of life is dispensed, go down to perdi- 
 tion, age after age, in all the madness of impenitence, 
 and the guilt of unbelief I 
 
 It is contrary to all our modes of reasoning and 
 judging, and w^hat seems no less dark and mysterious 
 now, than it did thousands of years ago, that the young, 
 the wise, the virtuous, the useful and the happy, should 
 often be plucked away from the most interesting stations 
 
65 
 
 and relations in society, while those of a very different 
 character, whose lives perhaps are a burden to them- 
 selves and a heavy trial to others, are suffered to drag 
 out to a surprising length their apparently useless and 
 miserable existence. But there is no end to the mys- 
 terious dispensations of divine providence, all of which 
 proclaim his ways not to be as our ways, and his 
 thoughts not as our thoughts. 
 
 8. God's ways are not only widely different from 
 ours but infinitely above them. They have an excel- 
 lence which no finite thought can conceive, and no 
 comparison illustrate. All that he does and all that he 
 purposes, is infinitely wise, holy, just and good. No- 
 thing can frustrate his wisdom or disconcert his infi- 
 nitely glorious designs. He never errs in judgment; 
 his truth is firmer than the everlasting mountains; his 
 benevolence is unwearied and expansive, embracing the 
 highest good of his great kingdom; his righteousness is 
 an everlasting righteousness, and his mercy, infinitely 
 tender, endureth to all generations. It was this glori- 
 ous attribute more especially, that he intended to set 
 before us, when he said, " My thoughts are not your 
 thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the 
 Lord; for as the heavens are higher than the earth, so 
 are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts 
 than your thoughts." And well, my dear brethren is 
 it for us that his mercy stretches itself so infinitelv 
 above and beyond ours. What could we hope for, vile 
 and polluted as we are, if we had not the mercy of a 
 God to repair to? This David saw and felt, when, 
 under the expectation of being corrected for his sins, 
 7 
 
66 god's thoughts and ways above ours. 
 
 he said " Let me fall into the hands of God, and not 
 into the hands of man." And this was all his hope, 
 when, smarting under a sense of his amazing guilt, he 
 cried, " Have mercy upon me, O God, according to 
 thy loving kindness, according unto the multitude of 
 thy tender mercies, blot out my transgressions." 
 
 It would be an interesting part of this subject, did 
 our time admit of it, to show wherein God's mercy 
 differs from our mercy, and infinitely transcends it; — 
 that in the choice of its objects, — in the measures it 
 adopts towards them, and above all, in its endurance 
 under the vilest provocations, and in the incalculable 
 blessings it bestows, it is a mercy exceedingly different 
 from that w^hich dwells in the bosoms of men, and is as 
 much above it, as the heavens are high above the earth. 
 Let us close with some brief reflections. 
 First: Since God's w^ays are not as our ways, nor 
 his thoughts as our thoughts, but infinitely above them, 
 how great the criminality and the folly of arraigning 
 his proceedings and judging of them at our tribunal. 
 What is short sighted man, — a creature of yesterday, 
 that he should think of sitting in judgment upon the 
 ways of God? Can a child enter into the concerns of 
 a mighty empire? Can he decide with correctness 
 upon the measures of government, necessary to be adopt- 
 ed, in managing those concerns? Can he say what 
 would be wise, or what unwise, in a policy embracing 
 interests so vast, so various and so complicated? Could 
 he even understand that policy, should the reasons of it 
 be set forth in language intelligible to others? Equally 
 incompetent is man to judge of the wisdom of him who 
 
67 
 
 is infinite, and to scan the proceedings of a govern- 
 ment which has the universe for the field of its opera- 
 tions, and an eternity in which to develope the full 
 effect of its designs. Instead of questioning, therefore, 
 either the wisdom or goodness of God in things which 
 we can not understand, how much more becoming our 
 condition to fall at his feet and adore I 
 
 Secondly: Since God's thoughts are not as our 
 thoughts, limited to a narrow sphere, but embrace the 
 whole system of creatures and events, the most minute, 
 as well as the most enlarged, we should be careful not 
 to forget God, but humbly acknowledge him in all our 
 ways. As no event is too insignificant to become the 
 subject of his eternal counsels, so none is too small to 
 be followed w^ith amazing consequences of good or 
 evil, as his providence shall direct. This is a suflS- 
 cient reason for casting our care on the Lord; and even 
 in the most trivial circumstances of our lives, begging 
 for the guidance and protection of his most gracious 
 and powerful hand. 
 
 This thought should impress us the more, as we have 
 come near to the close of the present, and shall, if God 
 spare us, shortly enter upon the events of a new year. 
 Ah, who can tell what is before us — what scenes of 
 darkness and perplexity, and what need we shall stand 
 in of being guided by his gracious counsels, and having 
 our hope firmly fixed in his abounding love. 
 
 Thirdly: As God's ways are extremely different 
 from ours, and often marked by the most unsearchable 
 proceedings, we ought to beware of imagining that we 
 are his friends, merely because we are favoured with 
 
68 god's thoughts and ways above ours. 
 
 great outward privileges, and the Lord employs us as 
 the instruments of signal good to others. His thoughts 
 and counsels are very deep. He raised up Jehu, and 
 set him upon the throne of the house of Israel to execute 
 his wrath upon the family of Ahab, but he did not 
 admit him to the secret of his covenant. For aught 
 that appears, he was finally abandoned of God and 
 utterly cast away. The Lord raised up Judas, intro- 
 duced him into the family of Christ, endowed him 
 with miraculous gifts, and sent him forth to preach the 
 gospel; and after all had no pleasure in him, but left 
 him to die a horrible death and to go to his own place. 
 
 Let us then be cautious of inferring our interest in 
 God's favour from any external privileges or blessings 
 which may attend us. The only proof we can have 
 that we are entitled to his friendship is that we love 
 him and keep his commandments. 
 
 Fourthly: If God's thoughts are not only diverse 
 from ours, but infinitely above them, it ought not to 
 surprise us that the wheels of his providence often move 
 high and dreadful, and that his paths are in the deep 
 waters where his footsteps are not known. How can 
 it be otherwise, since his providence embraces a scheme 
 of government so w^idely extended in its objects and 
 which is to endure forever? 
 
 Fifthly : If God's thoughts and ways are not as ours, 
 but infinitely above them, devising and carrying for- 
 ward a glorious system of operation throughout his 
 immeasurable kingdom, how unspeakably happy are 
 they who are numbered among his friends. Their 
 highest interests are as secure as eternal power and 
 
69 
 
 wisdom can make them. Nothing can fall out, aside 
 or beyond his wise and holy counsels; — nothing which 
 shall not ultimately advance the happiness of his peo- 
 ple and the glory of his name. Here is a strong 
 foundation, my dear brethren, for your hopes. Here is 
 repose and quiet for you amidst the storms and troubles 
 of this adverse world. God is on the throne, and under 
 his direction all things will work together for good to 
 them that love him. You are embraced in the folds of 
 his everlasting covenant. 
 
 Finally: Since God has a government wide as the 
 universe and durable as eternity, rich in counsel and 
 unfathomable in design, what new and wonderful scenes 
 are the friends of God destined to witness in the pro- 
 gress of their being: nay, what a glorious place will 
 Heaven be when God shall unveil to his children in a 
 succession which shall know no end, the high and 
 glorious purposes concealed in his bosom from eternity, 
 — purposes which have been gradually unfolding in the 
 creation and government of the world. Christian, 
 surely it doth not yet appear what thou shalt be, but 
 this know, — that it shall be thine everlasting employ- 
 ment to explore the works, to admire the perfections, 
 to celebrate the praises of a covenant keeping God, 
 
 7* 
 
SERMON III. 
 
 GOD'S FAVOUR TO THE UPRIGHT. 
 
 PSALM LXXXIV., 11. 
 
 •^ For the Lord God is a siin and shield : the Lord ivill give 
 grace and glory, and no good thing will he withhold from them 
 that ivalk uprightly!''' 
 
 The author of this psalm had been excluded, for a 
 time, from the tabernacle of the Lord ; but under what 
 particular circumstances, it does not appear. It is certain 
 however, that he deeply felt the privation, and longed 
 with ardent desire for another opportunity of w^aiting 
 upon God in his sanctuary. He seemed to envy the 
 very swallows, which made their nests in the summit 
 of the building; w^hile he pronounced those blessed, in 
 an eminent degree, who by their frequent visits to the 
 house of God, might be said to dwell in his courts. He 
 knew, by his own experience, w^hat joy thrilled their 
 hearts, w^hile they uttered the mighty acts of the Lord, 
 — and what inward strength w^as imparted to them, 
 while they attended upon the institutions of his appoint- 
 ment. " Blessed," says he, " is the man, w^hose strength 
 is in thee; in w^hose heart are the ways of them; w^ho 
 passing through the valley of Baca, make it a well; 
 the rain also filleth the pools." Yes, blessed are they 
 
71 
 
 whose thirsty souls are refreshed by the waters of the 
 sanctuary. " They go from strength to strength ; every 
 one of them in Zion appeareth before God. For a day 
 in thy courts is better than a thousand; I had rather 
 be a doorkeeper in the house of my God, than to dwell 
 in the tents of wickedness." And why? Was the 
 service delightful? Was it profitable? He answers in 
 the words of our text — " For the Lord God is a sun and 
 shield; the Lord will give grace and glory, and no 
 good thing will he withhold from them that walk up- 
 rightly." The words need no comment; they express 
 clearly and strongly the safety and felicity of God's 
 true worshippers. God will be all to them w^hich they 
 need, for time and eternity; — a sun to enlighten them 
 by day, a shield to protect them against every rising 
 danger, an all sufficient friend in every season of want 
 or sorrow, granting every needful succor in this world, 
 and everlasting glory in the next. But that we may 
 mistake neither their character nor their privileges, let 
 us consider more particularly who they are, that, in the 
 sense of our text, may be said to walk uprightli/, and 
 then notice the blessings which the Psalmist here 
 attaches to their condition. 
 
 1. Who are they, that may be said to walk up- 
 rightly ? 
 
 We embrace in this description those who are up- 
 right in heart and upright in life; whose general course 
 of action accords with the law of duty laid down in 
 the Bible, and whose inward principles and motives 
 are regulated by the same rule. In the language of 
 the world indeed, we often speak of a man as upright, 
 
72 
 
 when nothing more is intended, than that he is just and 
 fair in his dealings, correct and honorable in his genera 
 intercourse, in opposition to duplicity, shuffling and 
 fraud. We vouch nothing for his piety, nor even for 
 his sobriety and self-command. He may be upright in 
 the common acceptation of the term, without possessing 
 either of these virtues. But not so in the language of 
 the scriptures. Here an upright man is a truly good 
 man; one that fears God and keeps his commandments. 
 Uprightness is but another name for rectitude of action, 
 the law of God being the standard with which the action 
 is compared. Where there is no degree of conformity 
 to this law, there is no degree of uprightness; nay, 
 where there is not a prevailing conformity, the truly 
 upright man cannot be found. Men have their charac- 
 ters given to them in the Bible, not from a single act, 
 but from a series of acts. They are good, w^here the 
 course of action is good; and they are evil, where the 
 course of action is evil. Hence, in our text, they who 
 are the subjects of the divine favour, are said to walk 
 uprightly. Walking is a continued action; and in a 
 good measure uniform. It supposes purpose, and steadi- 
 ness of purpose; and is upon both accounts, a just and 
 appropriate figure to express one's habits of life. We 
 must keep in mind, however, that these habits are not 
 merely external: they proceed from inward and cor- 
 responding principles; and in the case of those who 
 walk uprightly, they proceed from true love to God, 
 and from a just regard to the welfare of his kingdom. 
 I could not better express the character of an upright 
 man, than by affirming these three things concerning 
 
god's favour to the upright. 73 
 
 him. First — He keeps God's commands from choice; 
 they are not grievous to him. Secondly — He keeps all 
 God's commands, without selecting one in distinction 
 from another. His aim is universal obedience, and that, 
 because every part of God's law is equally sacred, 
 having been ordained by equal authority. And, Third- 
 ly — He thus obeys, not at particular seasons, or on 
 special occasions, where interest or other circumstances 
 favour it, but as an habitual and prevalent course of 
 action. It is his main business — his life. With this 
 view of those who may be said to walk uprightly, let 
 us, in the 
 
 2. Next place notice the blessings which the Psalm- 
 ist, in the words of our text, attaches to their condition. 
 " The Lord God is a sun, and shield; the Lord will 
 give grace and glory, and no good thing will he with- 
 hold from them that walk uprightly." 
 
 The Lord God is a sun. He is so to the upright, 
 inasmuch as he sheds light upon their path, while tra- 
 velling through this gloomy wilderness. Without this 
 light — the light of his holy word, they would not know 
 what to believe, or what to do, or would know but im- 
 perfectly. But they open his word, and there they 
 discover those great and precious truths, which other- 
 wise would have been but partially revealed, or alto- 
 gether unknown. There they see what a great and 
 glorious being God is; how holy, wise, just, merciful 
 and true. There they learn the nature and extent of 
 his law, and the great ends of his moral government. 
 There sin is seen, and the awful punishment which 
 God has annexed to it, and there above all, they learn 
 
74 god's favour to the upright. 
 
 that God can and will forgive sin, and the terms on 
 which he will forgive it. In a word, life and immor- 
 tality are brought to light by the gospel, and they see 
 distinctly what men have to hope or fear in relation 
 to a future world. 
 
 But does not God's word shed this light upon all, 
 where it comes, whether upright or not? In one im- 
 portant sense surely it does. It is in many respects 
 like the sun, a common privilege. But what we assert 
 is, that it works this blessed effect in a peculiar man- 
 ner in relation to the upright. They receive its testi- 
 mony with greater cordiality, and more willingly yield 
 themselves to be guided by its counsels. Taught by 
 the Spirit, the very same Spirit which dictated the 
 word, they are more clearly enabled to discern the 
 truths it contains, and have a far deeper impression of 
 their importance. "They have an unction," as St. 
 John says, " from the Holy One, and know all 
 things." 
 
 God enlightens his people, moreover, in the duties 
 they are to perform, as well as in the truths they are 
 to believe. His word not only lays down general rules 
 by which their conduct is to be regulated, but it de- 
 scends to innumerable particulars. It marks out their 
 duty clearly, to God, to their fellow creatures, and to 
 themselves. In this respect the entrance of God's word 
 giveth light, making the path of duty so plain that he 
 that runs may read. 
 
 It deserves, however, to be remarked, that the light 
 which God sheds upon the minds of his people, is not 
 merely speculative j it informs the understanding, but 
 
god's favour to the upright. 75 
 
 at the same time, it also persuades the heart. The 
 Spirit of the Lord is a candle, which searcheth all the 
 inward powers, and in the light of which the spiritual 
 beauty of divine things is discerned. Without this all 
 remains ,dark and unattractive. Men may know what 
 the truth is, and have a rational conviction of duty, 
 without cordially approving of the one, or delighting 
 in the other. It is no unusual thing indeed, to see a 
 well informed mind connected with a deeply depraved 
 heart. But God, in becoming a sun to his people, 
 exerts an influence upon the affections, as well as upon 
 the understanding: the heart is won at the same time 
 that the reasoning faculty or the judgment becomes 
 satisfied. 
 
 But further — God is a sun to his people, as he 
 cheers and consoles them in the land of their pil- 
 grimage. It is one of the natural effects of the sun, 
 to comfort and gladden the animal world. Hence 
 Solomon says, " Truly the light is sweet, and a plea- 
 sant thing it is for the eyes to behold the sun. "All 
 nature feels the enlivening influence of this glorious 
 luminary; and hence it becomes a just and beautiful 
 emblem of the God of all grace and comfort, who, by 
 his diffusive benevolence, not only gladdens the hearts 
 of his creatures generally, but in a special manner, 
 cheers and consoles his people, under the various trials 
 and discouragements which attend them w^hile sojourn- 
 ing in this vale of tears. We have all experienced 
 the delight which the sun occasions when it breaks 
 through a cloud, after a long and gloomy storm; when 
 every object around us, and especially every thing 
 
76 
 
 which hath breath, seems to hail with gladness his re- 
 turning beams. This is but a faint image of the joy 
 which is felt, when God lifts up the light of his coun- 
 tenance upon the darkened and desponding soul; when 
 the clouds of fear, of guilt, of sorrow, are dissipated, 
 and a sweet serenity takes possession of the heart, and 
 the happy subject is enabled to run with increased 
 alacrity the way of God's commands. This was the 
 light for which the Psalmist often prayed in his dark- 
 ness; this was the light for which he waited and longed, 
 when he said in the one hundred and thirtieth psalm, 
 " My soul waiteth for the Lord, more than they that 
 watch for the morning, I say more than they that watch 
 for the morning." 
 
 But it is not merely under spiritual darkness and 
 trouble that God sheds the cheering rays of divine con- 
 solation into the soul. He is the light and joy of his 
 people, in outward darkness and tribulation; — when 
 worldly interests fail, enemies multiply, dangers press; 
 when friends prove unfaithful, or are cut off by death; 
 when want or disease stares them in the face, and 
 troubles of various kinds gather around them like the 
 sea, and threaten to swallow them up. Then it is that 
 the Lord is their light and salvation, comforting and 
 sustaining them by his word and his Spirit, and ren- 
 dering them superior to every earthly trial. 
 
 It would be easy to point you to examples of this in 
 the history of his suffering people. How was it with 
 Paul and his companions in the gospel ministry? 
 "They were troubled on every side, yet not distressed; 
 perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not for- 
 
god's favour to the upright. 77 
 
 saken; cast down, but not destroyed; always bearing 
 about in the body, the dying of the Lord Jesus, that 
 the life also of Jesus might be made manifest in their 
 body." They had forsaken home and friends, houses 
 and lands, and commenced a pilgrimage through bar- 
 barous nations and climes, exposed to want and suf- 
 fering and peril in every form; nay they actually en- 
 dured the most distressing privations, and the most 
 wanton cruelties. Besides hunger and thirst, cold and 
 nakedness, they were publicly beaten with rods, loaded 
 with chains, and thrust into dark and gloomy dungeons. 
 Every where were they hated, and their characters 
 traduced : they were treated as the filth of the world, 
 and the off-scouring of all things. " But none of these 
 things moved them; neither counted they their lives 
 dear unto themselves, if they might finish their course 
 with joy, and the ministry which they had received of 
 the Lord Jesus, to testify the gospel of the grace of 
 God." Nay, we are told that as their sufferings in- 
 creased for Christ, so their consolations abounded by 
 Christ. They had an inward support, which rendered 
 them superior to every outward calamity, and enabled 
 them to face even death itself, in its most terrible forms, 
 without anxiety or dismay. The consequence was, 
 that, instead of fainting under their accumulated suf- 
 ferings, they counted it all joy that they were deemed 
 worthy to endure them for the name of Jesus. The 
 same consolations have been experienced by others in 
 every age of the church, in trials which they have suf- 
 fered for Christ's sake, as well as under the more ordi- 
 nary calamities of life. But as often as this has hap- 
 
78 
 
 GOD S FAVOUR TO THE UPRIGHT. 
 
 penedj God has proved himself a sun to his people, 
 chasing away the darkness of fear and of sorrow, and 
 filling them with the light of joy and peace. 
 
 Let me say, once more, that God is a sun to those 
 w^ho walk uprightly, inasmuch as he is the source of 
 their vigor, and enables them to perform with prompt- 
 ness and resolution the duties of their particular sta- 
 tions. 
 
 How quickly would the vegetable kingdom languish, 
 without the vivifying influence of the sun! Many of 
 earth's richest productions would utterly fail, without 
 his warm and invigorating beams. So in the moral 
 and spiritual world, nothing good flourishes without 
 the genial influence of the moral sun. God must shine 
 upon his people, or they will languish and die. They 
 have no strength or suflSciency of themselves, but all 
 their sufl[iciency is of Him. This the saints of the Old 
 Testament well understood, as also the apostles under 
 the New. Hence, says David, " I will love thee, O 
 Lord, my strength. The Lord is my rock and my fort- 
 ress, and my deliverer, — my God, my strength in whom 
 I will trust, — my buckler, and the horn of my salva- 
 tion, and my high tower." And again, " It is God 
 that girdeth me with strength, and maketh my way 
 perfect. He maketh my feet like hind's feet, and sit- 
 teth me upon my high places." He felt his entire de- 
 pendance on God, to accomplish any of the undertak- 
 ings in which he was employed, and especially to per- 
 form the duties pertaining to his religious vocation. 
 
 The same was the case with Paul and his brethren. 
 They acknowledged all their sufficiency to be of God, 
 
god's favour to the upright. 
 
 79 
 
 and continually looked to him for strength suited to 
 their day. They kept fully in view the solemn declara- 
 tion of Christ to his disciples, " Without me ye can do 
 nothing," and acting on this well known truth, they 
 earnestly sought for themselves, and for their brethren, 
 strength from on high, praying that God would strength- 
 en them with all might by his Spirit in the inner man 
 according to the exceeding greatness of his power. 
 There is not an upright man upon earth, who does not 
 feel and acknowledge a similar dependance, and cry 
 unto God for a supply of the quickening Spirit, to 
 strengthen, and sustain him in his course; and blessed 
 be God, not one of his people shall cry unto him in 
 vain. This consoling promise reaches them all—" They 
 that wait upon the Lord, shall renew their strength— 
 they shall mount up on wings, as eagles; they shall 
 run, and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint." 
 Feeble indeed, sore broken, they would be, and never 
 hold on their way, if the strength of Israel was not on 
 their side. Nay, they might sit down in despair, if 
 God did not prevent them by his power and grace- 
 working in them to will, as well as to do; and thus 
 being beforehand with them, as the efficient cause of 
 their salvation. He begins the work of grace in their 
 souls, as a matter of free and undeserved favour; he 
 carries it on much in the same manner, and has pledged 
 himself to bring it to a glorious consummation. Grace 
 will complete what grace begins, and in every stage of 
 it there will be manifested a power no less wonderful 
 than that which raised up Christ from the dead, and 
 set him at God's right hand in the heavenly places. 
 
80 god's favour to the upright. 
 
 God is then a sun to his people, as he enlightens 
 their minds, and directs their path; as he cheers and 
 comforts them on their journey, and as he sustains and 
 invigorates their steps. But the Psalmist tells us, 
 
 That He is also their shield. And he is so chiefly, 
 as he is their defence, from the numerous enemies 
 which they have to encounter. To Abraham, you 
 know, God said, " I am thy shield," and this covenant 
 language he still holds to all who by faith are the 
 children of Abraham. A shield, literally speaking, 
 was a broad piece of armour, carried by the ancients? 
 in their left hand, or on their left arm, to defend them 
 against the darts, and other missile weapons of their 
 enemies. But when applied to God, the term denotes 
 that he is a sure protection or defence; not from one 
 kind of weapon or another, but from every species of 
 danger incident to those who are the objects of his 
 special care. Here they are assailed from a thousand 
 causes: they have enemies without and enemies with- 
 in; and these enemies are as subtle as they are 
 powerful. They fight with every weapon which 
 ingenuity or malice can devise. But no weapon 
 formed against them can prosper. God himself is a 
 broad and powerful shield, who never fails to interpose 
 for their protection. Evils indeed are suffered to 
 arise; — but none which a faithful God does not per- 
 ceive will be for the best; — none, which he will not 
 eventually overrule for their good, as well as for his 
 own glory. From all ultimate evil they are absolutely 
 safe; and this surely is as much as they can rationally 
 
GOD'S FAVOUR TO THE UPRIGHT. 81 
 
 desire: more would be incompatible with their highest, 
 their eternal welfare. 
 
 How happy, then, must they be, who have God 
 both for their sun and their shield! For the Psalmist 
 adds that " the Lord will give grace and glory; and 
 no good thing will he withhold from them that wal5[ 
 uprightly." 
 
 He will give grace; grace to pardon their sins, to 
 subdue their rebellious tempers and to transform them 
 by degrees into his own blessed image. He will give 
 grace; the grace of his paternal benediction, compre- 
 hending in it all needful good for soul and body in this 
 world, with an exemption from all evil, not necessary 
 to promote their highest interest. And he will give 
 gloryy crowning all the blessings he bestows in this 
 life with everlasting honour and felicity in the next. 
 Is not this enough? Are not our minds overwhelmed 
 with the riches of the divine goodness? Such is the 
 plenitude of God's promise to them that walk upright- 
 ly; a promise w^hich the Psalmist received with un- 
 wavering confidence. And why cannot we also, make 
 it the ground of our confidence and joy? It is the 
 same in substance, with all those great and precious 
 promises, which God has made to his people, and 
 which he has confirmed by an oath. It must, and 
 will, go into full effect. Hear it, my brethren, with 
 corresponding faith and gratitude. "The Lord God 
 is a sun and shield; the Lord will give grace and 
 glory, and no good thing will he withhold from them 
 that walk uprightly." 
 
 But though I wish you to believe the promise with 
 
82 
 
 the firmest assurance, I do not wish you to believe it 
 yours, without evidence. This would be, to the last 
 degree, irrational and dangerous. For if you are not 
 among those that walk uprightly, the Lord God is no 
 sun to you; nor will he be your shield. He has not 
 promised to give you either grace or glory. But con- 
 tinuing as you are, you are exposed to be driven out 
 of the earth with a curse, and to fall into everlasting 
 misery. 
 
 I exhort such then, as are doubtful whether they are 
 interested in this great and precious promise, to seek 
 to have their doubts resolved, by ascertaining whether 
 they are upright 5 — upright in spirit and in action: — 
 whether they make the law of God, the rule of their 
 conduct, and the principles it inculcates, the motives 
 of their actions. 
 
 Dear brethren, let none of us be deceived. But if 
 you have the comfort to know that you are included 
 among them that walk uprightly, — survey this promise 
 in all its richness and amplitude: — think of it as reach- 
 ing through time and through eternity, and embracing 
 all that you can desire for both worlds. Lift up your 
 eyes to God continually, as your sun and your shield; — 
 trust in that mercy and in that tr^ath which hath said, 
 "He will give grace and glory, and no good thing will he 
 withhold from them that walk uprightly." In every 
 season of outward darkness and trial, let this promise 
 be as an anchor to your soul — sure and steadfast; for 
 God, who hath spoken, can not lie. No matter how 
 dark and terrible the tempest which hangs over you, no 
 matter how high the billows rise, on which your frail 
 
god's favour to the upright. 83 
 
 bark is tossed, — no earthly power can swing you from 
 your mooring, or break that hold which you have on 
 God, the eternal Rock. He has pledged himself to 
 secure and defend you from all final evil; and as soon 
 may omnipotence be defeated, or unchangeableness 
 fail, as any evil arise which he will not overrule for 
 your good, or any good thing be withheld, which would 
 subserve the purpose of your highest felicity. 
 
 But there are not a few present perhaps, who know 
 that however rich and consoling this promise is to 
 others, it does not belong to them; and that it does 
 not belong to them, because they do not belong 
 to the upright. Ah I then my dear friends, what is 
 your relation to God? You are the creatures of his 
 power, and the subjects of his moral government; — and 
 if he has not promised to be a sun and a shield to you, 
 what is the language which he holds? Your own 
 hearts answer. It is the language of threatening and 
 rebuke. He regards you as his enemies, and declares 
 his readiness, if you turn not, utterly to destroy. Oh 
 be alarmed by the terrors, be allured by the mercies 
 of God, to cast in your lot with his people while it is an 
 accepted time. 
 
SEEMON IV. 
 
 LIFE A PILGRDIAGE. 
 
 A NEW tear's sermon. 
 
 GENESIS XLVIL, 8, 9. 
 
 " And Pharaoh said unto Jacob, How old art thou ? And 
 Jacob said unto Pharaoh, The days of the years of my pilgrimage 
 are an hundred and thirty years : few and evil have the days of 
 the years of my life been ; and have not attained unto the years 
 of the life of my fathers, in the days of their pilgrimage.^^ 
 
 The patriarchs were distinguished for their longevity. 
 Abraham died at the age of an hundred and seventy- 
 five years; Isaac at the age of an hundred and eighty; 
 and Jacob it seems was an hnndred and thirty years old 
 when he was introduced to Pharaoh, and did not end 
 his days until seventeen years afterwards. And yet 
 they all considered their lives as a pilgrimage; and that 
 not merely nor chiefly because they were sojourners in 
 the land of Canaan, which was afterwards to be given 
 to their posterity, but because life was short and they 
 felt themselves to be at a distance from their inherit- 
 ance on high. They believed in another and better 
 world, — in a heavenly country, where their spirits, at the 
 end of their mortal course, would enter into rest and 
 find a sweet and everlasting home. 
 
LIFE A PILGRIMAGE. 85 
 
 Their condition upon earth was peculiarly calculated 
 to remind them that here they had no continuing city. 
 They were literally strangers in the land in which they 
 sojourned, dwelling in tabernacles here and there, as 
 their convenience or safety required. But it was the 
 state of their hearts more than their outward condition, 
 which gave to them the character of pilgrims and made 
 them look out for a city to come, — a city which hath 
 foundations, whose builder and maker is God. They 
 were men of faith, — " and having seen the promises 
 afar off, they were persuaded of them and embraced 
 them," and therefore " they confessed that they were 
 strangers and pilgrims on the earth." The unseen 
 things of another world, which the promises reveal, 
 appeared to them real, of unspeakable grandeur, and of 
 endless duration. No wonder then, that life should 
 dwindle to a span and that they should consider it only 
 as a pilgrimage to their Father's house above. 
 
 Jacob who had been literally more of a sojourner 
 than any of them, and whose life had been filled up 
 with a greater number of painful incidents, says to 
 Pharaoh, " Few and evil have the days of the years of 
 my life been;" and yet he was then at the advanced 
 period of an hundred and thirty. We call a man old 
 who has reached his fourscore years. But here was 
 one who had arrived at six score and ten; — venerable 
 for his aspect no doubt, bat with such care-w^orn coun- 
 tenance and other marks of years, as to lead Pharaoh to 
 suspect that he was born in some distant age, and to 
 put the question, " How old art thou?" The answer 
 shows that in some distant age it was, and that he was 
 
86 LIFE A PILGRIMAGE. 
 
 truly a man of other times; for where were those who 
 began the journey of life with him? Most of them, if not 
 all, were slumbering together in the dust. He had lived 
 to bury a world; and many of them the dearest friends of 
 his heart. And now, when he looks back upon life, 
 long as it was, compared with the measure of ours, 
 he could call it nothing but a pilgrimage made up of 
 a few days, and these full of evil. Not but that he had 
 been the subject of many mercies, of which he pre- 
 served a deep and affecting remembrance. The God of 
 his fathers, Abraham and Isaac, had been with him 
 and kept him and fed him all his life long; the angel 
 of the everlasting covenant had redeemed him from 
 evil; still he felt that life had been short and full of 
 trouble, — only a painful journey to that heavenly coun- 
 try, which he had in prospect, and where alone he ex- 
 pected to find a true and satisfying rest. 
 
 The question put to him by Pharaoh, " How old art 
 thou?" naturally sent his thoughts through all the 
 various stages of life, and brought up many a distress- 
 ing incident which had embittered the days of his pil- 
 grimage. He could not forget his troubles with Esau, 
 while in his father's house; the long and painful exile 
 which those troubles occasioned while he sojourned 
 with Laban at Padan-Aram, where, for more than 
 twenty years he was subjected to the greatest hard- 
 ships in contending with the avarice and injustice of 
 that unprincipled man. There the drought consumed 
 by day, and the frost withered by night. He could 
 not forget the fears and alarms which attended him on 
 his return from that country, both when pursued by 
 
LIFE A PILGRIMAGE. 87 
 
 Laban and when met by Esau. These were occur- 
 rences of so striking and eventful a character, as never 
 to be erased from his mind. To say nothing of the 
 contentions and vexations within the circle of his own 
 family, which must have grieved and distressed such a 
 heart as Jacob's, how^ was his soul pierced at the con- 
 duct of Simeon and Levi, who w^ere guilty of the basest 
 treachery and cruelty towards the Shechemites! How 
 must he have wept over Reuben, over Judah, and others 
 in his family, whose immoral conduct was like a dagger 
 in his heart! 
 
 The early death of his beloved Rachel, the unutter- 
 able anguish of his soul in the supposed death of 
 Joseph, with his trial at parting with Benjamin and 
 Simeon, were events which Jacob could never forget, 
 and which served, with innumerable other circumstances 
 common to our suffering nature, to characterize his 
 days as evil. But after all, w ho w^ould not like to come 
 to the close of his pilgrimage with as pleasing a retro- 
 spect, and with as bright hopes, as the good old Patriarch 
 enjoyed ? Methinks I see him standing before Pharaoh, 
 with locks silvered over with age, and leaning upon 
 the top of his staff: bearing the marks of more than 
 a hundred winters, and as many summers; but still his 
 spirit is strong within him. He recollects the sufferings 
 and dangers through which he has passed, and how the 
 God of almighty power and everlasting mercy, by his 
 watchful and gracious providence, has sustained him 
 and brought him well nigh to the close of his journey. 
 He has come down into Egypt at the call of God, by 
 whose immediate inspiration he was directed, and 
 
LIFE A PILGRIMAGE. 
 
 doubts not, that the same almighty Being will bring him 
 up again, with an increased household, at the appointed 
 time. He sees that the hour is at hand, when he shall 
 go the way of all the earth; but he believes that while 
 his body shall sleep with his fathers, in the cave of 
 Machpelah, his spirit will join their spirits, in the city 
 of God, which is above. His faith is of too strong 
 and special a character to admit of any doubts; his vir- 
 tues have been too well tried to throw any shade over 
 his future prospects. He is a saint of the Lord, draw- 
 ing near to the end of his course, and soon to receive 
 the crown of righteousness, the palm of victory. 
 Can a more venerable or soul-inspiring object be pre- 
 sented to our attention? Who would not desire to be 
 a pilgrim like him, whether his days shall be few 
 or many; and to come at last to the end of his 
 journey, with equal marks of the divine approbation, 
 and w^ith as fair a prospect of the heavenly inheritance? 
 But can this be, my brethren, without a deep and affect- 
 ing remembrance that this life is only a pilgrimage? 
 Can this be without cordially embracing the promises, 
 and really seeking that better country, which the 
 promises disclose? 
 
 1. Let us then, (while we are entering upon the new 
 year), summon our attention to some of the facts and 
 circumstances which remind us that this life is but a 
 pilgrimage. I say remind us, because none of us will 
 have the folly to pretend that we have already reached 
 a settled and permanent abode. Adopt what creed 
 we may concerning futurity, there can be no dis- 
 pute about our stay in this world. Every man knows 
 
LIFE A PILGRIMAGE. 89 
 
 that he is the certain heir of mortality; that if neither 
 disease nor accident cut him off, the silent stream of time 
 will soon bear him away. The fate of all preced- 
 ing generations forever settles the question that after 
 the succession of a few short years at most, he must 
 close his eyes upon these heavens, and this earth, to 
 lie down in the dust. What then is he now but a 
 stranger, and sojourner upon the earth, as all his fathers 
 were? But there are various facts and circumstances 
 calculated to remind us of this passing state of thino-s. 
 Whatever indicates to us the progress of time, is a 
 solemn memento that we are hastening to our end. Our 
 bounds are set that we cannot pass. The whole of our 
 mortal existence is embraced in the compass of a few 
 short years, diminishing constantly, as the wheels of 
 time go round. Every rising and setting sun proclaims 
 with mighty voice that our days are numbering, and 
 will soon be gone. Each returning season, and es- 
 pecially the close of the revolving year, holds a lan- 
 guage on this subject of deep and awfully monitory 
 import. If the clock strike, it is to tell us mortals 
 that another hour has passed never to return; and even 
 the pendulum vibrating seconds gives us warning that 
 time is ever flowing on, and as it flows bears us on- 
 ward to the ocean of eternity. 
 
 What is the growth of plants, of trees, of animals, 
 together with their decay, but a silent monitor of the 
 progress we are making in life's journey, and of the 
 certainty of its termination? Look which way we 
 will, and some object meets us which tells us of our 
 departure from this world. The fleeting clouds, the 
 9 
 
90 LIFE A PILGRIMAGE* 
 
 changing face of the sky, the falling meteor, the ever 
 variable winds, the storm that rushes and the bright 
 sunshine that follows, day and night, cold and heat, 
 summer and winter, seed time and harvest, — nay the 
 whole aspect of nature, reads a solemn lesson to us 
 upon our mutable condition, and reminds us that the 
 time of our departure is at hand. 
 
 Nor do the changes in ourselves, whether in body or 
 mind, address us in terms less striking and prophetic. 
 Are we ripening into vigour, or sinking into decline? 
 The warning is substantially the same: it tells us that 
 every thing is moving forward w^ith the strong and ir- 
 resistible march of time. True it is that marks of 
 decay speak with a louder voice, and the greater will 
 be our madness not to take the warning, when given 
 by the grey hairs which are here and there upon us; 
 by the furrowed visage, the faltering accent, the tardy, 
 feeble, uncertain step, wuth their usual concomitants, 
 dimness of sight, feebleness of spirits, and other bodily 
 and mental infirmities. For what are all these things 
 but precursors of our end; — changes of the most omi- 
 nous character, giving assurance that the earthly house 
 of this our tabernacle wnll shortly be dissolved. 
 
 But, after all, nothing perhaps strikes us so much as 
 the changes which take place in society. How affect- 
 ing are the changes that occur within a single year; 
 but add a few years together, and what a mighty revo- 
 lution is seen, strongly indicative of the progress of 
 time, and the certain and amazing results which it is 
 destined to produce. 
 
LIFE A PILGRIMAGE. 91 
 
 Where are the children which a few years since 
 were seen sporting in these streets? They are grown 
 to manhood, and their sports have given place to the 
 never ceasing cares and toils of life. They have be- 
 come heads of families, parents of other children, fast 
 ripening into maturity. Where are the men of busi- 
 ness, who, but a little w^hile ago, took the lead in the 
 various branches of human occupation? Some have 
 been removed by death; and others, w^orn out with 
 labors or w^ithering under the blight of time, have re- 
 tired from the bustle of the world, as unequal to their 
 former tasks, and are gradually sinking into that obli- 
 vion which the grave, the land of forgetfulness, wull 
 soon complete. Where are the old men, whose heads 
 blossoming like the almond tree, used to whiten our as- 
 semblies, and give a venerable aspect to our devotions? 
 The dark and silent tomb hides them almost all. Look 
 around you, my dear brethren — Is this the congrega- 
 tion that first united for the worship of God in this 
 place, and dedicated this house to the Lord? Some of 
 them indeed still remain, but for the most part, it is 
 a new generation, succeeded to the inheritance of 
 their fathers. What is the language of these affecting 
 changes? Is it not, man, that thou art a pilgrim; 
 hastening away from this earthly scene? A few years 
 more, and another will take thy place in the house of 
 God, in the workshop, in the field, or w^heresoever 
 thou hast laboured or enjoyed, and thou thyself wilt 
 have gone to thine everlasting home. 
 
 But there are other changes w^hich make a stronger 
 appeal to our hearts. Was there a time when I could 
 
92 LIFE A PILGRIMAGE. 
 
 say " my father," or "ray mother," — and has that time 
 ceased? when I could say my brother, or my sister or 
 my child — and are these relations dissolved? Have I 
 lost my companion by the way, as Jacob did Rachel, 
 a little before he came to Ephrath, a circumstance 
 which he mentions with the utmost tenderness just 
 before his death? How hard must be my heart, and 
 how blunted all my powers of perception, if 1 am not 
 awake to the consideration of my frailty, and do not 
 bear about with me a lively remembrance that life is 
 only a pilgrimage! 
 
 But is it enough that I keep this momentous fact 
 constantly in view? What is the end to be attained 
 by a deep and thorough conviction that I am but a 
 stranger and sojourner upon earth? Is it not that my 
 affections may be taken off from this world, and set 
 upon that better country, which Abraham, Isaac and 
 Jacob sought, and towards w^hich they journeyed in 
 the days of their pilgrimage? Is it not that in a cor- 
 dial belief of the promises, I may become a pilgrim too, 
 and bend my footsteps towards that heavenly land 
 which the promises disclose? Surely nothing short of 
 this will bring me to the end of my journey in peace, 
 or give me an entrance into that rest which remaineth 
 for the people of God. 
 
 But w^hat are w^e to understand by a cordial belief 
 of the promises, and how do they who believe them 
 become pilgrims, in relation to the heavenly country? 
 The promises to which I refer, are the promises of 
 God's mercy made in Christ Jesus, and in him, yea 
 and amen, to the glory of God the Father; — the pro- 
 
LIFE A PILGRIMAGE. 
 
 93 
 
 mises of God's rich and everlasting covenant, estab- 
 lished with all true believers, and which contain in 
 them all the good that the believer can desire, for time 
 or eternity. They secure to him as firmly as the word 
 and oath of God^can do, pardon of sin, sanctification of 
 heart, as much of this world's good as is best for him, 
 and everlasting life and felicity in the world which is 
 to come. He that said to Abraham, " I am thy God, 
 I am thy shield, and thine exceeding great reward," 
 makes the same promise virtually to every true be- 
 liever; and if God was not ashamed to be called the 
 God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, because, though 
 pilgrims, he had prepared for them a city, neither is 
 he ashamed to be called the God of those who have 
 like precious faith, at the present time, seeing he has 
 prepared for them a city also, — a glorious city, whose 
 light is seen from afar, and whose splendours will con- 
 tinue to brighten, when stars and suns shall be swept 
 away. 
 
 But what is it to have like precious faith with the 
 patriarchs, or a cordial belief of the promises? 
 
 It certainly supposes that we fully accredit the truth 
 of the promises, in all their fulness and variety, — that 
 we hear Jehovah himself speak in thein, and entertain 
 no doubt that all the blessings they comprise will be 
 bestowed upon those who believe. This is what the 
 Apostle means by being "persuaded of them;" and it 
 is a persuasion so full and perfect as to make the objects 
 of the promises appear real, and to impress the mind, 
 in some good measure, as if they were seen by the eye 
 of sense. And hence it is that he describes faith as 
 *9 
 
94 LIFE A PILGRIMAGE. 
 
 the substance of things hoped for, and the evidence of 
 things not seen, — that is, as giving substance to the 
 objects which it contemplates, and an undoubting as- 
 surance or confidence of their reality. 
 
 But though this persuasion of the truth of the prom- 
 ises is one thing implied in a cordial belief of them, it 
 is not the whole that is implied. To this must be added 
 an actual embracing of them, choosing the blessings 
 which they offer, and relying upon the divine faithful- 
 ness for their accomplishment. 
 
 Many read or hear the promises, and have some 
 understanding of the blessings they contain, but have 
 no direct or prevalent desire to inherit them. Many 
 are brought to consider them as the promises of God, 
 and of course entertain no speculative doubts as to the 
 certainty of their fulfilment, — still they do not regard 
 them as proffering blessings to themselves, nor do they 
 actually avail themselves of them. The veil of un- 
 belief is still upon their hearts, so that they neither dis- 
 cern the glory of Him who promises, nor those rich 
 and everlasting blessings which he freely proposes, and 
 offers to secure. It is otherwise with him who cordially 
 believes. He discerns the transcendent excellence and 
 glory of God, who is in a great degree, the object as 
 well as the author of the promises. He sees that the 
 promises contain the very blessings which he needs, 
 and which, from his inmost soul, he desires to possess. 
 He sees that these blessings are freely offered to all who 
 will accept them, and upon the condition of a bare ac- 
 ceptance. With humble confidence, therefore, he em- 
 braces the oflfer; — and takes the word of Jehovah for 
 
LIFE A PILGRIMAGE. 95 
 
 security that the promised mercy shall surely be per- 
 formed. In this way he begins, when he is first per- 
 suaded of the promises, and embraces them; and in 
 this way he continues afterwards, while, as a pilgrim, 
 he is prosecuting his journey towards Heaven. He 
 lives upon the word of God, and is kept steadfast in his 
 course, by the very same faith, which, at first, brought 
 him into it. 
 
 Now if you inquire how they who believe the 
 promises, become pilgrims in relation to the Heavenly 
 country; — it will not be difficult to answer. It is by 
 faith that they are brought into the way which leads 
 to that better country, and that they commence their 
 journey thither. It is by faith that they become citizens 
 or heirs of that country: their belief in the promises 
 entitles them to an eternal residence in it, and consti- 
 tutes it their true and proper home. It is by faith that 
 they are led to seek it, and to seek it with such earnest- 
 ness as to make all other pursuits subordinate to this. 
 Faith gives them the feelings of strangers and pilgrims 
 in this world. It makes life appear short, and its en- 
 joyments w^orthless, compared with those pure and eter- 
 nal joys which are in reserve for them in the skies. In 
 short, the life of the heavenly pilgrim is begun, and 
 carried on in faith, and is perfected in the same manner. 
 It is from first to last, the grand spring of action with 
 him. Is he beset by cares, or encompassed by afflic- 
 tions? Faith dissolves the perplexity which arises 
 from the one, and gives strength to his fainting heart, 
 under the other. Do enemies assail, or pleasures allure? 
 Faith in God, and in another and eternal world, enables 
 
96 ■ LIFE A PILGRIMAGE. 
 
 him to rise superior to both. Is he weak? Faith in- 
 vigorates him. Is he negligent, or tardy in his course? 
 Faith carries him forward. Is he tempted sometimes 
 to sit down discouraged, because of the length of the 
 way; as were the Israelites on their journey through 
 the wilderness to Canaan? Faith draws the veil, and 
 lets hito see, as from Pisgah, the " good land beyond 
 Jordan, that goodly mountain, and Lebanon," and con- 
 vinces him that it is but a step or two thither. 
 
 But what sort of faith is this, my brethren? Not that 
 cold and dead faith which satisfies too many a pro- 
 fessor; — not that half formed persuasion of divine 
 truth, which leaves a slumbering world still to slumber 
 in their sins. No, it is a deep and powerful principle 
 of the mind, a principle which actuates the judgment, 
 at the same time that it sends a sweet and efficacious 
 influence through the heart. It is a faith that works 
 by love, and love of so pure and decisive a character 
 as to issue in a sincere obedience to the divine will. 
 Such we know was the faith of Abraham as well as 
 of Isaac and Jacob, who were heirs with him of the 
 same promises. "Without a faith of this living, opera- 
 tive kind, they would never have commenced a pilgrim- 
 age to the heavenly land ; nor would they have held 
 on through the many trials and dangers which beset 
 them in the \vay. Without a faith of the same exalted 
 character, ice shall never become pilgrims, in reference 
 to the heavenly country, nor arrive at that city that 
 hath foundations, whither their believing spirits have 
 already gone. We may deceive ourselves, and thou- 
 sands no doubt are thus deceived. We may think that 
 
LIFE A PILGRIMAGE. 97 
 
 after all we have heard of Heaven's eternal rest and the 
 means that have been used with us to excite us to seek 
 it, we can hardly fail of reaching it at last. But none 
 but those who are fully persuaded of the promises, and 
 actually embrace them, will ever enter into it. This is 
 the only way which leads to that blessed world, — the 
 only way which pilgrims have trodden from the begin- 
 ning. It commences with living faith and finishes with 
 that faith. It is eminently the way of humility and 
 dependance upon God; the way of obedience, and 
 consequently the way of holiness; the way of self denial 
 and mortification to the world. But still it is a safe 
 way; it leads to no dangerous snares and pit-falls, but 
 is sure to conduct every traveller to a peaceful and 
 eternal home at last. 
 
 Shall I ask, in conclusion, whether we are travelling 
 in this way? Have we, my dear brethren, really 
 commenced this pilgrimage to the heavenly country? 
 When did we commence it? And what proofs have we 
 given to ourselves or to others that we are pilgrims 
 indeed — pilgrims [ mean, whose faces are set towards 
 Zion's everlasting hills? Do we feel and act like pil- 
 grims? Does life appear short and uncertain; and all 
 its enjoyments too poor and transient to engage our 
 affections? Have we bidden the world adieu, as our 
 portion? Are w^e continually inclined to say of it, 
 " this is not my rest?" Do we buy as though we pos- 
 sessed not, and rejoice as though we rejoiced not, and 
 mourn as though we wept not? and all this because the 
 fashion of this world passeth away? Has faith, through 
 the medium of the word, discovered to us the unseen 
 
98 
 
 LIFE A PILGRIMAGE. 
 
 things of eternity? Has it brought those things near, 
 and given them such a reality and importance to our 
 minds as to make every thing on earth dwindle into 
 insignificance? Have we, in short, embraced the pro- 
 mises? Do we live as the humble and joyful expect- 
 ants of that glorious inheritance which they reveal? 
 Then our eyes will be turned upwards. Then our con- 
 versation will be in Heaven, and our affections also will 
 be there. Then we shall shape our course through the 
 world with a constant and ultimate reference to our 
 eternal abode. Night and day shall we pursue our 
 spiritual journey, and count those events happiest which 
 speed us on the way and ripen us for admission into 
 our Father's house above. 
 
 But what, my dear friends, if this is not our case? 
 What if it be true that we have never yet commenced 
 a pilgrimage towards Heaven? Then, alas! we are 
 on a pilgrimage to Hell. There is no other alterna- 
 tive, taking the word of God as the rule of our judg- 
 ment. Our journey through life is short, but conducts 
 to one of those two worlds eternal, where all men shall 
 soon take up their final abode. They who are not 
 travelling towards Heaven, must of necessity be tra- 
 velling, and with all the speed which the wings 
 of time can give, towards a very different world. And 
 how^ affecting is it to think of the numbers who are 
 manifestly sauntering along this dangerous way ! More 
 affecting still to see them hold on their course with an 
 obstinacy which no expostulations from God or man 
 seem sufhcient to restrain. But what shall be done? 
 Shall we permit them to pursue this fearful journey 
 
LIFE A PILGRIMAGE. 99 
 
 without lifting up the voice of remonstrance, and 
 warning them of the danger which awaits them? O 
 ye strangers and sojourners upon earth, ye travellers to 
 eternity, will ye not for once, listen to the plaintive 
 call of wisdom? Do ye not perceive that you are in 
 the broad way to death; that the course you are pur- 
 suing will soon land you in the place of everlasting 
 sorrows? You are as yet impenitent, and Christless: 
 you have no meetness for the inheritance of the saints 
 in light, and can not be admitted to that blessed world, 
 without a deep and radical change of character. If 
 death overtake you as you are, — (and he may overtake 
 you at any moment,) you will sink to the world of un- 
 utterable anguish. Why then not awake? The voice 
 of divine mercy calls you; your own eternal interests 
 demand your attention. You have escaped the shafts 
 of death another year, while many of your acquaint- 
 ance and some who bore the tenderest relation to you 
 have fallen victims to his power. But who knows 
 what is to befal you in the year which you have be- 
 gun? Every thing future is shrouded in darkness. 
 We know not what a day may bring forth. This very 
 morning, I have been called to stand by the dying bed 
 of another fellow mortal, who is called away in the 
 morning of life, and almost w^ithout any previous 
 warning. Oh who can tell in respect to himself what 
 shall be on the morrow! 
 
 Shall I drop a word to those who trust that they are 
 on a pilgrimage to Heaven? You too have come to 
 the close of another year. Who knows but that you 
 may be called to pass the cold stream of death before 
 
100 LIFE A PILGRIMAGE. 
 
 this year is ended; yes, before the sun has half mea- 
 sured his annual course, you may be called to place 
 your feet on the shores of the heavenly rest; to be- 
 come denizens of that city whither Abraham, Isaac 
 and Jacob are gone; whither the prophets and apos- 
 tles and Jesus Christ their Lord and yours, have as- 
 cended; and where all the spirits of the just made per- 
 fect, are assembled in one glorified community. What 
 manner of persons then, dear brethren, ought you to 
 be in all holy conversation and godliness. 
 
SERMON V. 
 
 THE RICH FOOL. 
 
 LUKE XII., 20. 
 
 " But God said unto him, Thou fool, this night thy soul shall 
 be required of thee ; then whose shall those things be, ivhich thou 
 hast provided T^ 
 
 Never was the folly of a worldly spirit portrayed in 
 stronger colours than in the parable before us. One 
 had said to our Lord, while he w^as discoursing upon 
 the danger of denying him before men and blaspheming 
 against the Holy Ghost — " Master, speak to my brother, 
 that he divide the inheritance with me." To this un- 
 seasonable request, Jesus returns this answer, — *' Man, 
 who made me a judge or divider over you?" As if he 
 had said, I came not into the world to settle men's dis- 
 putes about their worldly estates. I had an infinitely 
 more important errand; — I came to save their immortal 
 souls, which they are in danger of sacrificing to a spirit 
 of covetousness and worldly mindedness. " Take heed, 
 therefore, and beware of covetousness: for a man's life 
 consisteth not in the abundance of the things which he 
 possesseth." 
 . To give the more eflfect to this seasonable and neces- 
 ^ sary caution, he relates the short and striking parable 
 10 
 
102 THE RICH FOOL. 
 
 from which our text is taken. " The ground of a cer- 
 tain rich man brought forth plentifully: and he thought 
 within himself saying, What shall I do, because I have 
 no room where to bestow my fruits? and he said, this 
 wall I do; I will pull down my barns and build greater; 
 and there will I bestow all my fruits and my goods; and 
 I will say to my soul. Soul, thou hast much goods laid 
 up for many years, take thine ease, eat, drink and be 
 merry. But God said unto him. Thou fool, this night 
 thy soul shall be required of thee; then whose shall 
 those things be, which thou hast provided? So is he" 
 (adds the Saviour) "who layeth up treasure for him- 
 self, and is not rich towards God." 
 
 There is none, my dear brethren, who can describe 
 the heart of man like him who made that heart. There 
 is none whose faithful admonitions so much deserve our 
 regard, as his who came into the world on purpose to 
 instruct us and die for us. He has a perfect knowledge 
 of our case and the most disinterested regard to our 
 welfare. V\^e can neither doubt the correctness of his 
 statements, nor the benevolence of his views. Let us 
 then, for a moment, attend to his account of the rich 
 worldling in the parable, whose fate and character are 
 both comprehended in these awfully impressive words — 
 "Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of 
 thee; then whose shall those things be, which thou hast 
 provided ?" 
 
 I bespeak your more earnest attention to this subject 
 because it cannot be questioned that there are many 
 among us who are acting the foolish part of this man, 
 while others, though not wholly swallowed up by a 
 
THE RICH FOOL. JOS 
 
 worldly spirit, are yet treacling so closely in his steps 
 as greatly to retard and embarrass, if not absolutely to 
 prevent the work of their salvation. 
 
 It is a day, my dear brethren, of awful declension 
 with us — a day when the love of the world has become 
 strangely predominant, and the cry of many hearts 
 is, " Give, give, and say not it is enough." 
 
 But let us hear our Lord's account of the rich world- 
 ling in the parable. 
 
 I. In the midst of his prosperity, he was unthankful. 
 God had endowed him with wealth, and thus raised 
 him above that humble and painful state of dependance 
 to which multitudes are subjected. A blessing de- 
 scended upon the labour of his hands, and his ground 
 brought forth plentifully, so that he had not room where 
 to bestow his fruits. Here was an opportunity for 
 gratitude. Here he ought to have lifted up his heart 
 to God, in humble and grateful acknowledgements, for 
 the favours thus liberally bestowed. But God does not 
 appear to have been in all his thoughts. His only 
 concern was how to secure and to augment his abun- 
 dance; regardless of the hand from which it came, and 
 of the obligations which the beneficence of that hand 
 had conferred. 
 
 Who does not see that this is too common a case, 
 among those on whom God has bestowed the riches of 
 this world? The more they are indebted to their great 
 Benefactor, the more do they forget him. The more he 
 causes their cup to run over with his bounty, the more 
 presumptuous, hardened and ungrateful they appear. 
 This is so plainly and undeniably the case, that if a 
 
104 THE RICH FOOL. 
 
 man were to ask us, * Where shall I find the best friends 
 of my God? Where shall I find the heart that glows 
 wnth the warmest sensibility for the common blessings 
 of divine providence?' — we must, for the most part, 
 direct him to the humble dwellings of the poor, and 
 often to those who subsist upon the slender charity of 
 their fellow men. Read what Asaph has said of the 
 rich, in the seventy third psalm — " Their eyes stand 
 out w^ith fatness, they have more than heart can wash; 
 they set their mouth against the Heavens, and their 
 tongue walketh through the earth; they say, how doth 
 God know? and is there knowledge in the Most High? 
 Behold these are the ungodly who prosper in the 
 world; they increase in riches." We know there are 
 some happy exceptions to this case. We know there 
 are those who, though rich in this world, are rich in 
 faith, and heirs of the kingdom. But it too often 
 happens that men who increase in wealth, increase in 
 pride and self-sufficiency, and forget their dependance 
 on God. Such, at least, was the fact w^ith respect to 
 the rich man in the parable. 
 
 II. But let us take a nearer view of his character. 
 His grounds brought forth plentifully. God pours 
 abundance into his hands. Does he not begin to think 
 w^ithin himself, to what purpose this bounty should be 
 appropriated; what deeds of charity he is called upon 
 to perform! Perhaps he intends to be the father of the 
 poor, and to make the widow's and orphan's heart sing 
 for joy. Perhaps he meditates deeds of benevolence 
 w^hich shall immortalize his name on earth, and lay up 
 in store a good foundation against the time to come. 
 
THE RICH FOOL. 105 
 
 Far otherwise. His selfish heart is occupied only with 
 selfish and earthly things. He cares not for the cries 
 and sufferings of the poor. If others choose to be eyes 
 to the blind, and feet to the lame, be it so: he neither 
 covets their work, nor their reward. His soul is bent 
 on another purpose, and his heart filled with other 
 things. He " thinks within himself" — but what does 
 he think? He thinks only of room where to bestow 
 his fruits and his goods! All his thoughts turn upon 
 the low and grovelling purpose of increasing his 
 wealth, and providing the means of voluptuous enjoy- 
 ment, in the future. He does not seem to know that 
 he has an eternity to provide for. He talks of his soul 
 indeed, but not of its future and immortal destiny. All 
 his attention is confined to the present life, and to those 
 sensual and short lived enjoyments, which must soon 
 pass away. On these his eager imagination seems to 
 dw^ell. 
 
 III. But mark, my dear friends, they are to him still 
 future. Much as he loves the world, and much as he 
 possesses of it, all his enjoyment is in prospect. He 
 has not yet reached the period in which he can say, 
 " Soul, take thine ease, eat, drink and be merry." 
 Nor does he know any satisfaction in a moderate par- 
 ticipation of the abundance which he possesses. An 
 insatiable desire to hoard up, and to rise to a state of 
 independence, is paramount to every other object. 
 Thus his foolish heart postpones the certain enjoyment 
 of the present, for the precarious and excessive in- 
 dulgence of the future. He deceives himself by ima- 
 gining that time and the increase of his fortune will 
 *10 
 
106 
 
 THE RICH FOOL. 
 
 make him more liberal. How many there are, every 
 where, who follow his example, who cannot enjoy 
 to-day, because they are laying up for to-morrow; and 
 when to-morrow comes, they cannot enjoy that for the 
 same reason. All is prospect with them; and w^ere 
 they to live to the age of Methusaleh, the scene would 
 not change. To swell their estates with the deceitful 
 dream of enjoying them at some future period, consti- 
 tutes the sum of their desires and exertions. 
 
 IV. But let us take another view of the rich w^orld- 
 ling in the parable. His increasing w^ealth, while it 
 fills him with care to provide against loss, puts him 
 upon the resolution of pulling down his barns and 
 building greater. — But attend to the self-confident and 
 piesumptuous language he employs, — " I am resolved 
 what to do; I will pull down ray barns and build 
 greater, and there will I bestow my fruits and my 
 goods." You do not hear him say, "If the Lord will, I 
 shall live and do this or that;" he forgets his dependence 
 on God for the accomplishment of his purposes and 
 designs, and what is very commonly connected with it, 
 he forgets the precarious tenure of that life on which 
 all his schemes and enjoyments are suspended. He 
 looks forward to the future, as if the events of the 
 future were under his control. He relies as confi- 
 dently upon his success, as if his own exertions were 
 all that were necessary to secure it. Neither death 
 nor disappointment makes any part of his plan. In all 
 the height of self-flattery and presumption, he fixes on 
 a period when he shall be able to say, " Soul, thou 
 hast much goods laid up for many years; take thine 
 
THE RICH FOOL." 107 
 
 ease, eat, drink and be merry." Then nothing is to 
 be wanting of all that he desires. Secured from the 
 chances of misfortune, and free from the care and toil 
 of his present condition, he is looking for the unre- 
 strained indulgence of all his appetites and passions in 
 scenes of unmingled joy. 
 
 This was the prospect which his ow^n fond imagina- 
 tion was sketching out to him. But what was the 
 sequel? In the midst of this dream, " God said to 
 him, thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of 
 thee: then whose shall those things be which thou 
 hast provided?" Awful reverse! In a moment his 
 sky is overcast; the gilded prospect of the morning 
 disappears; all his expectations are cut off, and his 
 high hopes changed in the twinklinor of an eye to deep 
 despair. He dies; and that soul whose immortal des- 
 tiny he had forgotten is summoned to the bar of judg- 
 ment. It comes before God whose mercy it had abused, 
 and whose power and justice it had defied. Where 
 now is that wealth w^hich he accumulated, or which he 
 was so anxious to accumulate in this world? Will it 
 fill him wnth confidence before his offended Judge? 
 Will it soothe the anguish of throbbing guilt? Will 
 it purchase a moment's reprieve from the miseries of 
 the second death? Alas! riches profit not in the day 
 of wrath. The remembrance of riches perverted and 
 abused will siing with insufferable and eternal remorse. 
 
 Who can look at the picture without saying, miser- 
 able end of a self-deluded mortal! Fool indeed, to 
 make this world his portion, while all that is honora- 
 ble in a virtuous course, all that is valuable in the im- 
 
108 THE RICH FOOL. 
 
 mortal soul, all that is pure and exalted in Heaven, 
 is madly sacrificed! And sacrificed with the Book of 
 God in his hand, which set the path of duty and the 
 retributions of eternity fully in view; sacrificed, when 
 life was known to be a bubble, ready to perish on 
 every wave — oh what can exceed this infatuation ! 
 
 But pause a moment, my dear friends — on whom 
 does this censure fall? We are indeed astonished at 
 the man v%'ho is wholly intent on the pursuit of gain, 
 whatever may be his expectations of enjoyment, while 
 he neglects the care of his soul, — " a good all price 
 beyond." But are none of us treading in his steps? 
 
 The heart, my brethren, is deceitful above all things, 
 as well as desperately wicked: — and a covetous heart 
 is perhaps the most deceitful of all hearts. On no sub- 
 ject do men more frequently mistake, than their own 
 character. You v.ill often see those, over whom this 
 vice reigns with the most unlimited sway, as apparent- 
 ly unconscious of the fact, as if their souls were bap- 
 tised with the most fervent charity. They may even 
 become a proverb for their want of liberality, and 
 never suspect that this shameful disposition has found 
 its way into their hearts. But whatever we may think 
 of ourselves, — what ought others to think of us, when 
 we are evidently so far absorbed in the world, as to 
 have neither time nor inclination to attend to the great 
 duties of religion? This is the case with many, who 
 often plead the multiplicity of their worldly cares, as 
 an excuse for not attending immediately to the great 
 and solemn concerns of their souls. But the truth is, 
 they are covetous. They indulge an inordinate desire 
 
THE RICH FOOL. 109 
 
 for the good things of this world. They are not 
 willing to cast their care on Divine Providence, in the 
 humble discharge of their duty. They are not willing 
 to seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, 
 leaving it with the Lord to supply them with whatever 
 is needful according to his good promise. They tread 
 in the steps of the rich worldling, whose heart was 
 supremely set upon the acquisitions and enjoyments of 
 the present life. 
 
 And do not they also bear the same general charac- 
 ter, who make the duties of religion subordinate to 
 the purposes of this world? What if it be so, brethren, 
 that we do not neglect the duties of religion altogether; 
 yet if we attend to them only as our worldly interest 
 and convenience will admit, we are among the covetous, 
 whom the Lord abhoreth. I will go farther: — suppose 
 we are scrupulously attentive to all the external duties 
 of religion, yet if our souls are not in them, what will 
 it avail? If our hearts are not in Heaven, but on 
 earth, are we not earthly? If we toil chiefly for the 
 body and not for the soul, are we not like the rich man 
 in the parable, who laid up treasure for himself, but 
 was not rich towards God? What then shall be said 
 of the man who, whatever may be his abundance, 
 has seldom or never, any thing to spare for the poor, 
 and whose well known covetousness chills the heart of 
 every applicant? What shall be said of the litigious 
 man, who has always some right in dispute with 
 his neighbors, and who has a thousand fold more con- 
 cern about the division of his earthly inheritance, than 
 about securing a title to the promised rest? What 
 
110 THE RICH FOOL. 
 
 shall be said of the devouring usurer, who, in defiance 
 equally of the laws of God and of society, grinds the 
 face of the poor, to satisfy his greedy thirst of gain? 
 Are not these men under the reigning power of covet- 
 ousness? And are they not in danger of being accosted 
 by God himself in the awful language in our text, 
 " Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of 
 thee; then whose shall those things be which thou hast 
 provided?" 
 
 But let us suppose, my brethren, that we could acquit 
 ourselves of covetousness as a reigning sin, and that 
 none of the characters now^ mentioned belonged to us, — 
 yet has not this temper too manifest a hold in our 
 hearts? Do w^e not think more of the world, —care 
 more for the world, than in reason we ought to do? 
 Do we not give less frequently, and less bountifully, 
 and less cheerfully, than if a spirit of covetousness 
 w^ere wholly eradicated from our hearts? Alas! my 
 dear friends, covetousness is the sin of our times. It 
 is a sin in the church, and a sin out the church. It is 
 a sin, which, under the deceitful names of prudence 
 and economy, chills the spirit of piety in many a 
 bosom, and which daily loads with reproach that 
 heaven-born religion whose principle and end is charity. 
 
 But what shall we do to counteract its baneful and 
 wide spreading influence? 
 
 Let us become deeply impressed wuth the immense 
 folly of seeking to become rich in this world, when it 
 is to be done at the expense of justice and charity, and 
 especially at the hazard of injuring, if not destroying, 
 our souls. Let us remember that wealth is but a paint- 
 
THE RICH FOOL. ' 1 U 
 
 ed bubble, which can never make us happy. It can 
 not satisfy the covetous soul itself. It can not bring 
 peace to the troubled conscience. It can not extract 
 the sting of death. 
 
 Let us bear in mind also that we brought nothing 
 into the world with us, and that it is certain we can 
 carry nothing out; that death will soon strip us of 
 all our worldly acquisitions, even if our days are pro- 
 tracted to the remotest limit of human life; and that, 
 for aught we can tell, death may be nigh even at the 
 door. Who ever felt more secure than the rich 
 man in the parable, when he was occupied with the 
 thoughts of pulling down his barns and building great- 
 er? And yet God said unto him, " Thou fool, this 
 night thy soul shall be required of thee." We know 
 not what a day may bring forth. Every moment we 
 are liable to be torn from our possessions, and to pass 
 into eternity. What madness is that which makes 
 us so eager for .the treasures of earth, so indifferent to 
 the treasures of Heaven? 
 
 I beseech you, dear brethren, by the mercies of God, 
 by the hopes of an eternal Heaven, and by the fears of 
 an endless Hell, that you withdraw^ your affections 
 from this world, and that instead of making it the 
 grand concern of your lives to heap up silver and gold 
 as the dust, and prepare raiment as the clay, you strive 
 to become rich towards God. Fear not to give alms 
 of such things as you have: but remember that to do 
 good and to communicate is a sacrifice with which 
 God is well pleased. By and by you will be put out 
 of your stewardship. how desirable will it be to 
 
112 THE RICH FOOL. 
 
 find one who will receive you into everlasting habita- 
 tions! 
 
 I press you the more upon this subject because it 
 can not be doubted that if we held the world with a 
 looser hand, we should enjoy much more real happi- 
 ness while in the world, and should not find the same 
 impediments to our entrance into the kingdom of God, 
 W'hen the business of this world is over. Let us rise 
 on the wings of faith to that rich and undefiled inhe- 
 ritance above, where Jesus, the Saviour, is gone, and 
 where he will gather all his true disciples at last. 
 There are treasures incorruptible and immortal, — trea- 
 sures which the more they are known, the more will 
 they be valued; — treasures which can never be lost to 
 their possessors by misfortune, or torn from them by 
 violence; but which will continue to enrich and bless 
 their souls through eternity. 
 
 But some are ready to felicitate themselves that this 
 subject has nothing to do with them. With w^hatever 
 vices or follies they are chargeable, they are not covet- 
 ous. They have no desire nor expectation of hoarding 
 up the wealth of this world. The parable of the 
 rich w^orldling, they imagine, was certainly not spoken 
 to such as they are. But are not your hearts fastened 
 upon the world? It matters not whether it be honour, 
 or pleasure or gain which attracts you. If you love 
 the world, you must perish with the world. The rich 
 man in the parable dreamed of one thing, you may 
 dream of another; but his dreams and yours will be 
 alike deceitful and ruinous. He who said to him, 
 " Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of 
 
THE^RICH FOOL. 113 
 
 thee," may suddenly pronounce the same awful sen- 
 tence in your case. then, my dear friends, withdraw 
 your hearts from the world. Think of that dread 
 eternity which must soon open upon you. Prepare to 
 meet your God, who will surely bring you into judg- 
 ment; whose favour is life, and whose loving kindness 
 is better than life. Kiss the Son, lest he be angry, and 
 you perish from the way, Avhile his wrath is kindled 
 but a little. 
 
 11 
 
SERMON VI. 
 
 THE ARK OF THE LORD. 
 
 n SAMUEL, VI., 1, 2. 
 
 " And David gathered together all the chosen men of Israel, 
 thirty thousand; and David arose and went with all the people 
 that were with him, from Baal of Judah, to bring up from thence 
 the ark of God, whose name is called by the name of the Lord of 
 Hosts that dwelleth between the cherubim.''^ 
 
 There are few persons mentioned in the Old Testa- 
 ment, whose lives are marked by so many striking 
 incidents as that of David. We are much interested 
 in him, when he is first introduced to our notice at his 
 father's house in Bethlehem, where Samuel went to 
 anoint him king over Israel. He was then a fair and 
 ruddy youth, engaged in the humble and peaceful 
 occupation of a shepherd, a stranger to those agitating 
 and conflicting passions, which are usually attendant 
 on public life. We feel a deeper interest in him, when 
 brought into the house of Saul, where by playing skil- 
 fully on his harp, he was enabled to dispel the gloom 
 which sometimes fell upon the mind of that unhappy 
 monarch. But what are our feelings, when we behold 
 him, with unexampled faith and courage, going forth 
 with his staff and his sling, to fight the uncircumcised 
 Philistine, who, for forty days, had appalled the Israel- 
 
THE ARK OF THE LORD. 115 
 
 ites, and defied the armies of the living God 1 Every 
 heart is moved to hear him say to the Philistine — " Thou 
 comest to me with a sword, and with a spear, and with 
 a shield, but I come to thee, in the name of the Lord of 
 Hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, w^hom thou hast 
 defied." We rejoice with him when he returns victo- 
 rious from the battle field, and feel that his achievement 
 is the triumph of faith over a bold and blasphemous 
 infidelity. We rejoice too in his advancement in the 
 royal family, while his rising fame is sw^elling on every 
 breeze, and the daughters of Israel are singing, " Saul 
 hath slain his thousands and David his ten thousands." 
 W'e are equally surprised and delighted to behold the 
 friendship w^hich exists between him and Jonathan, the 
 elder son of Saul, and the natural heir to his crown. 
 All ambitious and selfish feelings appear to be extin- 
 guished in the purity and strength of their affection. 
 They loved each other as their own souls, and doubtless 
 they were of kindred spirit. But here the scene 
 changes. David finds an implacable enemy in the per- 
 son of Saul. His virtues had shone too bright, and his 
 fame had sounded too loud, to be tolerated by this 
 haughty and envious man. He resolves therefore to 
 take the life of David; and no entreaty on the part of 
 Jonathan could soften his feelings or divert him from 
 his purpose. David is compelled to flee to the rocks 
 in the wilderness. Behold him now at Nob, where he 
 was impelled by hunger to eat the shew bread, w^hich 
 was not lawful, but for the priests only: — now^, among 
 the Philistines where he narrowly escaped death, by 
 feigning a fit of madness; — now in the cave of Adul- 
 
116 THE ARK OF THE LORD. 
 
 lam, in the south of Judah; — now at Mizpeh in the 
 land of Moab; — and afterwards at Keilah, where 
 the treacherous inhabitants, though deeply indebted 
 for his kindness, stood ready to deliver him up, 
 had an opportunity presented. Now he is in the 
 wilderness of Ziph; now in the wilds of Maon, 
 where the thousands of Israel were drawn out in pur- 
 suit of him; and now, in the cave of En-gedi, where 
 he cut off the skirt of Saul's robe, instead of taking his 
 life, which he could more easily have done; — a circum- 
 stance which melted Saul's heart for the time, and 
 compelled him to cry out, " My son David, thou art 
 more righteous than I." Afterwards we find him in 
 the wilderness of Ziph, pursued by three thousand 
 chosen men, under the direction of Saul. It was here 
 that Saul had his spear, and cruse of water taken from 
 his bolster, when a single blow, had David permitted, 
 would have put a period to his life and his cruelty to- 
 gether. Saul confessed his wickedness to David the 
 second time, and renewed his promises of kindness; but 
 David knowing the depth of his malice, and fearing 
 that he should one day fall by his faithless hand, left 
 the land of Israel altogether, and took up his residence 
 w^th the king of Gath. Here he remained until the 
 death of Saul, when he returned to Hebron, and was 
 made king over Judah. By degrees, the strength of 
 the house of Saul was wasted, and at the expiration of 
 a little more than seven years, all the tribes of Israel 
 were gathered unto David, and the seat of government 
 transferred to Jerusalem, when he entered upon a pros- 
 perous reign of more than thirty years,. 
 
THE ARK OF THE LORD. 117 
 
 But what are the views and feelings of David now 
 that God has redeemed him out of all his troubles, and 
 placed him at the head of a great nation, causing him 
 to be respected at home and abroad? Does he think 
 only of enlarging or strengthening his domain? Is he 
 wholly occupied with the secular concerns of his 
 kingdom? or does he lose himself in thoughtless and 
 guilty pleasure? No! one of his first cares is the ark 
 of the Lord, which had been neglected through all the 
 days of Saul; — and one of his first public acts is to 
 bring it up from Kirjath-jearim, where it had rested for 
 more than half a century, and set it in a tabernacle he 
 had pitched for it in the royal city. This is an object 
 worthy of his pious and devout heart, and connected 
 with an important reformation in the external worship 
 of God, — perhaps in the power and spirit of true re- 
 ligion. 
 
 Some illustration of this remarkable transaction — 
 together with the reflections which it may suggest, will 
 constitute the subject of this discourse. 
 
 The ark of the Lord, or the ark of the covenant, 
 as it is sometimes called, you will recollect, was the ark 
 W'hich Moses was required to make in the wilderness, 
 after a pattern which was shown to him in the holy 
 mount. It was a small chest or coffer, overlaid with 
 pure gold, within and without; — a little more than four 
 feet in length, two feet and an half in breadth, and the 
 same in depth. The lid or covering to the Ark was of 
 massy gold, and had round about it a golden edge or 
 crown. This covering was called the mercy seat or 
 propitiatory. Above it, but still attached to it, stood 
 *11 
 
118 THE ARK OF THE LORI>^ 
 
 the cherubim, two figures, all of beaten gold, with their 
 wings spread out over the mercy seat, and their faces 
 turned towards it and towards each other. 
 
 From between the cherubim God displayed his glory, 
 after the tabernacle w^as pitched, and the ark removed 
 within the veil; and thence he delivered to Moses the 
 remainder of the ceremonial and judicial law, and com- 
 muned with him, from time to time, as a man communes 
 with his friend. Probably, in after years, answers were 
 received from the same place, as here abode the 
 Shekinah or cloud of glory, the sensible token of God's 
 presence, to which there is an allusion in the words of 
 our text, where God is called " by the name of the 
 Lord of Hosts, that dwelleth between the cherubim." 
 He is often invoked by this name in the scripture, and 
 it is a name which should be dear to every sinner's 
 heart, as it represents Jehovah, as dwelling upon a 
 mercy seat, dispensing pardon to the penitent through 
 the blood of atonement. 
 
 In the ark were deposited the two tables of stone, 
 which contained the law of the ten commandments, 
 written with the finger of God; and on this account it 
 is called both the ark of the covenant and the ark of 
 testimony. The ten commandments were the sum of 
 that covenant which the Lord enjoined upon the people, 
 and which the people promised to obey; at the same 
 time that they were a solemn testimony of God's 
 presence with them, his authority over them, and his 
 readiness to reward or to punish according as they 
 should be found to obey or disobey his voice. In the 
 ark also were laid up the golden pot of manna, and 
 
THE ARK OF THE LORD. 119 
 
 Aaron's rod that budded, both of which were dis- 
 tinguished memorials of the divine power and mercy, 
 and never to be forgotten by the Israelites. 
 
 We have already remarked that, after the tabernacle 
 w^as pitched, the ark w^as removed within the veil, or 
 into tlie most holy place. This was the inner sanctuary, 
 and nothing but the ark was allowed to have a place 
 there. Here the high priest alone entered, and he but 
 once a year. This was on the great day of atonement, 
 when he went to burn incense before the Lord, (an 
 emblem of his own and the people's prayers) — and to 
 sprinkle the blood of the sin offering upon the Ark, or 
 rather upon the mercy seat, and before the mercy seat 
 seven times, — to make reconciliation both for his own 
 sins, and the sins of the people. 
 
 How important then was the ark in the Hebrew 
 worship; and how zealous must every friend of religion 
 have been for the maintenance of its rites and its honours. 
 No w^onder the pious Israelites in every age should 
 have felt for it the profoundest reverence, and have 
 associated w^ith it the honour of God and the interests 
 of piety and virtue. It was the symbol of God's pre- 
 sence in the midst of them, and they had everything 
 to hope or fear as its sacred rites were revered or dis- 
 regarded. 
 
 While the Israelites remained in the wilderness, the 
 ark of the Lord was placed in the centre of their camp, 
 and none but the Levites were permitted to pitch their 
 tents near to it. A pillar of cloud rested upon it by 
 day, and a pillar of fire by night. When the cloud 
 was taken up, it was a signal for the ark to move 
 
120 THE ARK OF THE LORD. 
 
 forward, and for the armies of Israel to follow. When 
 the cloud rested, they rested. The ark and the cloud 
 corresponded in their movements: whence it is said 
 that the ark of the Lord went before the Israelites, to 
 seek out a resting place for them. On every occasion, 
 when the ark set forward, Moses said, "Rise up, Lord, 
 and let thine enemies be scattered, and let them that 
 hate thee, flee before thee;" and when it rested, he 
 said, " Return Lord unto the many thousands of 
 Israel." 
 
 We are not informed whether the cloudy pillar at- 
 tended the ark, after the Israelites had passed over into 
 the land of Canaan. We only know that Jordan 
 was driven back, at the presence of the Lord of the 
 whole earth, when the priests who bore the ark dipped 
 their feet in the brim of that river; and that the walls 
 of Jericho fell down flat, after being encompassed by 
 the ark seven days, and while the priests who preceded 
 it, blew with the trumpets of rams horns. 
 
 On the Israelites' first entering the promised land, 
 the ark was established at Gilgal, in the neighbour- 
 hood of Jericho. When they had gotten a fuller pos- 
 session of the country, it was removed to a more cen- 
 tral position in Shiloh, in the tribe of Ephraim, where 
 it remained for three hundred and twenty-eight years, 
 till it was carried to the camp, and taken by the Philis- 
 tines, at the news of which good old Eli fell from his 
 seat, and died. He could hear with some composure, 
 of the death of his two sons, Hophni and Phineas, and 
 the great slaughter which had taken place among the 
 people, but when the messenger told him that the ark 
 
THE ARK OF THE LORD. 121 
 
 of God was taken, exhausted nature sunk; — he fell 
 backward and expired. 
 
 The Philistines carried the ark in triumph to the 
 temple of their idol in i\shdod; but the hand of the 
 Lord was upon their idol and upon the people. They 
 conveyed it to the city of Gath; but the judgments of 
 God followed, and after a few months, the ark was 
 sent back again to the land of Israel, borne on a new 
 cart, drawn by two milch kine. It was first received 
 by the men of Bethshemesh, and presently carried to 
 Kirjath-jearim, to the house of Abinadab, where it 
 remained in a great degree neglected for about seventy 
 years until David assembled all the chosen men of 
 Israel, to bring it up to Jerusalem. The importance of 
 this transaction you will clearly perceive by the account 
 we have given of the ark, and its connection with the 
 public worship of God. But how did David perform 
 this duty? With a zeal becoming the great occasion, 
 he sent through all the land of Israel, and gathered 
 together a vast concourse of people, and especially 
 men of distinguished rank, to bear a part in this in- 
 teresting scene. Every heart seemed delighted, and 
 every face glistened with joy. The ark was brought 
 out of the house of Abinadab, and set forward on its 
 journey to the royal city, David and all the house of Israel 
 playing before the Lord with all manner of instruments 
 of fir wood, harps, psalteries, timbrels, cornets, con- 
 nected with singing and sound of trumpets. But one 
 important circumstance had been overlooked. The 
 law of the Lord had not been consulted to know how 
 the ark should be carried. Instead of placing it upon 
 
122 THE ARK OF THE LORD. 
 
 the shoulders of the Levites, according to the express 
 command of God, they put it into a new cart drawn 
 by oxen, after the manner of the Philistines, when they 
 sent the ark home, out of their own country. It came 
 to pass, therefore, that when they had reached the 
 threshing floor of Nachon, Uzzah one of the attendants, 
 put forth his hand and took hold of the ark, because 
 the oxen shook it, and the Lord smote him for his 
 error, that he died. His unauthorized and presump- 
 tuous familiarity, whatever might have been his inten- 
 tions, drew down upon him this signal token of God's 
 displeasure. He was not of the family of the priests 
 to whom alone it was permitted to touch the ark, 
 without pain of death. 
 
 Who can well conceive the tumult and distress which 
 this melancholy event must have produced? How 
 suddenly did the sound of the harps and of the timbrel 
 cease! Where are those demonstrations of joy, which, 
 but a fev/ moments before, were seen in this vast as- 
 sembly? " O death, how unseasonable thy approach I" 
 must have been the reflection of many a worldly heart. 
 But God is holy, though he sitteth between the cheru- 
 bim, and dwelleth upon the mercy seat. He hath said, 
 " I will be sanctified in them that come nigh me, and 
 before all the people will I be glorified." 
 
 As a door was now opening for the restoration of 
 the ark to its original significance and importance in 
 the worship of Jehovah, it seemed in some degree re- 
 quisite, that a lesson should be given, which would not 
 fail to impress every mind with the sanctity of the divine 
 Being and the reverence due to his laws. 
 
THE ARK OF THE LORD. 123 
 
 David, we are told, was displeased at the breach 
 which was made upon Uzzah; but it is not expressly 
 said against whom his displeasure was directed; — per- 
 haps against the priests and Levites, for not giving due 
 information as to the method of carrying the ark, or for 
 not coming forward to a duty to which they had been 
 specially appointed. But it is more probable that his 
 displeasure was against the Lord himself, whose imme- 
 diate agency had caused the breach of which he com- 
 plained; and he is a stranger to his own heart, who 
 never discovered any dissatisfaction with divine provi- 
 dence, when his strongest wishes were counteracted, or 
 w^hen publicly mortified and put to shame before the 
 world. This was a temper, however, in which David 
 did not long indulge, but w^hich appears to have given 
 place to a disposition far more becoming him as a man 
 and a sinner. " He was afraid of the Lord, that day, and 
 said, " How shall the ark of the Lord come unto me?" 
 Conscious of his own guilt, he trembled before a God 
 of unspotted holiness, who was jealous for his own 
 name. He dare not at this time bring up the ark to 
 the place intended for it in his own city, but directed 
 it to be carried to the house of Obed-edom, the Gittite, 
 one of the pious sons of Levi, who willingly received 
 this solemn guest, notwithstanding the breach which 
 had been made upon the house of Israel. No doubt he 
 fully recognised the justice of God in this awful stroke, 
 and submitted to it as an event, painful indeed, but still 
 calculated to magnify the Lord among his people. 
 
 A blessing of so conspicuous a character descended 
 upon the house of Obed- edom, that, at the expiration 
 
124 THE ARK OF THE LORD. 
 
 of three months, David was encouraged to renew the 
 attempt to bring up the ark to the place he had pre- 
 pared for it in Jerusalem. 
 
 All Israel, therefore, are again assembled, and greater 
 preparations made than at the first. But the law of 
 God is not now overlooked. " None ought to carry 
 the ark." says David, " but the Levites; for them hath 
 the Lord chosen to bear the ark, and to minister unto 
 him forever." The priests and the Levites are required 
 to sanctify themselves, and to make those arrangements 
 which are requisite for this great solemnity. They 
 receive a strict charge that every thing should be done 
 after the due order. Different companies of singers, 
 and players upon instruments are provided. The ark of 
 the Lord is placed upon the shoulders of the Levites, by 
 means of the staves attached to it, as Moses had com- 
 manded, and with profound reverence, but with great 
 joy and gladness, borne to the royal city, accompanied 
 by David, and the elders of Israel, with all his captains 
 and mighty men. What heart could have been un- 
 moved at the sight of this vast procession, or at the 
 sacred music flowing from so many voices and so many 
 instruments, each company striving to excel, while they 
 uttered the mighty acts of the Lord, and praised him 
 w^ith all their powers. A psalm, adapted to the occa- 
 sion was delivered by David to Asaph and his brethren, 
 and is recorded in the sixteenth chapter of second of 
 Chronicles. But it is probable that other psalms were 
 sung, and among the rest the tw^enty-fourth psalm, 
 which seems, in a high degree, appropriate, w^hen the 
 ark had come near the gates of Jerusalem. What could 
 
THE ARK OF THE LORD. 125 
 
 be more striking, than for the singers, who were accus- 
 tomed to sing in responses, to say, " Lift up your heads, 
 O ye gates, and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors, and 
 the King of glory shall come in," while another com- 
 pany answered, " Who is this King of glory?" and it 
 was returned, " The Lord, strong and mighty, the Lord 
 mighty in battle. Lift up your heads, O ye gates, even 
 lift them up ye everlasting doors, and the King of glory 
 shall come in. Who isthisKing of glory? The Lord 
 of Hosts, (a name ascribed to him who dwelleth be- 
 tween the cherubim,) the Lord of Hosts, he is the King 
 of glory." 
 
 Is it any wonder that David was greatly animated 
 on this occasion, and that he almost lost himself in the 
 general tide of joy? It is said that he danced before 
 the Lord with all his might, being clothed with a linen 
 garment, or girt about with a linen ephod. That is, 
 he laid aside his royal robe, and dressed himself in the 
 plain and simple attire of the Levites, who held an 
 important rank among the worshippers of God and 
 the friends of the ark; and was not ashamed to express 
 his joy, w^hich now rose to an ecstacy, by leaping and 
 dancing, according to a practice sanctioned by the im- 
 memorial usage of his country. 
 
 But there was one at least, who thouc^ht his zeal 
 overdone. Michal, the daughter of Saul, and the wife 
 of David, looked from a window and saw him leaping 
 and playing before the ark, and despised him in her 
 heart; and as soon as she had an opportunity, re- 
 proached him to his face, and said: "How glorious 
 was the king of Israel to day, who by laying off his 
 12 
 
126 THE ARK OF THE LORD. 
 
 robes and acting the part of a singer and dancer, hath 
 made himself contemptible to the lowest of the people." 
 David replied with some spirit, and said — " It was 
 before the Lord who chose me instead of thy father, 
 that I did this, and if I have been vile, I will be yet 
 more vile, and v^^ill be base in my own sight." 
 
 This was a great occasion in David's estimation, and 
 it transported him a thousand times more than his most 
 splendid victories. His heart was filled with piety 
 towards God, and benevolence towards man. Here he 
 remembered the vows which his soul had made in 
 trouble; — and w^hile he devoutly blessed the Lord for 
 all his goodness towards him, and towards the nation 
 of Israel, he was forward to imitate that goodness, in 
 dealing to every one a portion of his bounty, and thus 
 sending his people away joyful to their own homes. 
 But he did not leave the ark himself, till he had made 
 permanent provision for the public w^orship of God, — 
 appointing the Levites to their service, both as porters 
 and singers, and placing the different bands of mu- 
 sicians under their respective leaders. In making this 
 arrangement, he was no doubt inspired by God, and 
 acted rather in the character of prophet, than of king. 
 Having finished this public service, he returned to bless 
 his house, — that is, to the exercise of family religion, 
 for which he had been eminently fitted by the solemn 
 transactions of the day; thus combining in his life the 
 duties of domestic piety, no less than those which per- 
 tained to the sanctuary of the Lord. 
 
 A crowd of reflections present themselves in view of 
 this important portion of sacred history. I shall con- 
 
THE ARK OF THE LORD. 127 
 
 tent myself with barely suggesting a few of them, 
 leaving a fuller application of the subject to your own 
 meditations. 
 
 1. Who can help remarking, in the first place, how 
 happy it is when our prosperity does not make us for- 
 get God. In a multitude of cases, men who have been 
 apparently respectful towards religion, if not devout, 
 while in the vale of poverty or obscurity, have greatly 
 altered their tone of feeling, when suddenly elevated to 
 wealth or power. This was the case of Saul. He 
 lost much of his respect for divine institutions after he 
 ascended the throne of Israel, and finally came to dis- 
 regard both the voice of God and of his prophet. It 
 was otherwise with David. He felt the need of God's 
 protection while a shepherd in the wilderness, and when 
 hunted like a partridge upon the mountains by his cruel 
 persecutors; — and he did not lose his sense of depend- 
 ance upon God, nor his love to the duties of religion, 
 when raised to the pinnacle of earthly greatness, and 
 when all his enemies were cut oflf or laid prostrate at 
 his feet. This was a proof of the reality and strength 
 of his piety, and adds no small interest and beauty to 
 his character. How desirable to resemble him, and to 
 let our prosperity brighten our zeal rather than dimi- 
 ish it! 
 
 2. Who does not perceive also, in view of the sub- 
 ject before us, how important it is for men in oflSce, and 
 for men of rank and influence of every description, to 
 take a deep interest in the cause of religion. They 
 are the strong rods of the community, and may be pow- 
 erful agents in the hands of divine Providence in pro- 
 
128 THE AKK OF THE LORD. 
 
 moting the interests of piety. Their examples alone 
 would do much in discountenancing vice, and in widen- 
 ing the influence of truth and virtue. Look at Moses, 
 at Joshua, at Gideon, Samuel, David, and the pious 
 kings who came after him; — what signal blessings 
 were they to the generation in which they lived; how 
 much good was done by their personal efforts! And 
 besides, what could add a greater lustre to their charac- 
 ter? Who does not respect David the more for the 
 zeal he displayed for the ark of the Lord of Hosts. 
 
 .'L We are taught, moreover, by this narrative, 
 the great importance of doing everything in religion 
 according to the rules which God himself has pre- 
 scribed. Had this truth been thoroughly impressed upon 
 the mind of David, and those that were with him, in 
 the first attempt to bring up the ark, Uzzah had not 
 been stricken dead for his error, nor this noble enter- 
 prise for the time defeated. God requires that we 
 should understand our duty, and makes our ignorance 
 penal, where it proceeds from an inattention to his 
 written law. What an argument is this for a constant 
 and prayerful application to his holy word. If we are 
 ignorant with both testaments in our hands, woe be to 
 our folly and perverseness. 
 
 4. The conduct of David in bringing up the ark, 
 may lead us to reflect that while great zeal may have 
 great defects, yet, where it proceeds from honest prin- 
 ciple, it will not be easily discouraged. It may be 
 chastened for its irregularity, for its ignorance, for its 
 pride and vain glory. It may be foiled in its exertions; 
 but it will not give over. Proceeding in the main 
 
THE ARK OF THE LORD. 129 
 
 from love to God and a regard to his honour, it will 
 renew its efforts until its desires are accomplished. If 
 David had not been a true friend to the ark, the breach 
 of Uzzah would probably have quenched his zeal for- 
 ever. He would not have risked another mortification 
 before the great men of his kingdom; many of whom 
 were no very ardent friends to his religion. But as the 
 case was, his want of success only humbled him, and 
 made him observant of God's law, till at length his 
 zeal awoke to greater ardour than before, and prompted 
 him to efforts which God was pleased to crown with his 
 blessing. Does our zeal, brethren, hold out? Or does 
 it want that persevering character, which is the touch 
 stone of sincerity? 
 
 5. The history before us presents us with another 
 truth written as with a sunbeam — that a careless or 
 presumptuous familiarity with respect to the great 
 objects of our devotion, is highly offensive to God. 
 We are not to speak to Him as to our neighbour. 
 We are not to treat the great subjects of his attributes, 
 his laws, his kingdom, with the same kind of levity or 
 indifference, as we do things which are merely secular. 
 We must be solemn when we treat with, or about the 
 King eternal. Is he merciful — what then? He is 
 holy as well as merciful. Uzzah was near the mercy 
 seat, when he presumptuously laid his hand upon the 
 ark, and fell dead before the Lord. 
 
 Let us be admonished also, not to busy ourselves 
 
 with employments or things beyond our proper limits; 
 
 but always to maintain upon our minds a due reverence 
 
 for the bounds which God has prescribed to us, whether 
 
 *12 
 
130 THE ARK OF THE LORD. 
 
 in the opinions we form, or in the duties we discharge. 
 Let us cuhivate a reverent and lowly spirit, and treat 
 every subject of religion with that seriousness and 
 solemnity, which its dignity and importance demand. 
 
 6. But let us not be afraid to give religion a place 
 in our hearts; nor under the pretext of fear and rev- 
 erence, exclude the Holy One of Israel from a partici- 
 pation in our thoughts. Obed-edom was not afraid to, 
 give entertainment to the ark, though an awful breach 
 had been made upon Uzzah, for his unhallowed touch. 
 And we need not be afraid to give the God of Heaven 
 a residence in our bosoms; for though He be the high 
 and lofty one, who inhabiteth eternity, and dwelleth in 
 the high and holy place, — yet He will notice with 
 gracious condescension those that fear Him, and will 
 dwell with the humble and contrite ones. He will re- 
 vive their spirit; give them the oil of joy for mourning, 
 and the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness. 
 The blessing which descended upon the house of Obed- 
 edom will descend upon them, and they will know by 
 joyful experience, that the Lord of Hosts, who dwelleth 
 between the cherubim, is both able and willing to re- 
 ward his servants. 
 
 7. The solicitude of David to place the ark in the 
 royal city, and to regulate the public service of God 
 according to the prescribed forms, teaches us that the 
 externals of religion are not to be disregarded, but 
 every thing to be done with decency and in order; and 
 especially his great attention to psalmody, or the 
 manner of publicly praising God in the congregation, 
 shows us that this is no insignificant part of divine 
 
THE ARK OF THE LORD. 131 
 
 service, even in the Christian church. David was in- 
 spired when he made arrangements for the music to be 
 performed in the pubhc v/orship of God, and his ex- 
 ample is therefore more worthy of our imitation. 
 
 8. Let not the people of God be surprised if their 
 zeal should sometimes be thought to be excessive. 
 Michal had this opinion of David. She despised him 
 for his lowliness of mind, as well as for the zeal which 
 he manifested in the public worship of God. But he 
 was neither discouraged nor mortified, by the poignacy 
 of her wit, or the virulence of her satire. If he had 
 been vile, he was willing to be more vile and base in 
 his own sight. So let it be with you, my Christian 
 friends, — if you should chance to meet with opposition 
 or contempt for your attachment to the cause of re- 
 ligion. It may be that your bosom friends or dearest 
 relatives will despise you in their hearts, when your 
 zeal overleaps the bounds of their prudence or con- 
 venience. But remember they do not see with your 
 eyes, nor with the eyes of the living God, whose laws, 
 and not the feelings or opinions of worldly men, are to 
 be your guide. It will be no comfort to you, on your 
 dying bed, that you followed their counsels, or regulated 
 your zeal by their maxims. Do your duty as in the 
 fear of God, and take this truth along with you for 
 your comfort, — that whatever derision or conflict you 
 may now suffer, the ark and its friends will eventually 
 prosper. 
 
 9. Do we desire to see a reformation in religion, or 
 the return of God's gracious presence in the midst of 
 
132 THE ARK OF THE LORD. 
 
 US? The conduct of David in bringing up the ark 
 may furnish us important instruction. It ^vill teach us 
 that this is an object of the first importance, and 
 ought to awaken all our zeal, while at the same time, 
 it will direct us to take measures for this object, with 
 a due regard to the divine honour, and with a scru- 
 pulous adherence to God's w^ord. Our zeal should be 
 both enlightened and sanctified. A constant care 
 should be exercised not to give the ark an unhallowed, 
 unauthorized touch. It is the ark of the covenant; — 
 the ark of the Lord of the whole earth. He w^ho 
 dwelleth between the cherubim is holy. In desiring 
 the return of the Lord's presence w^ith us, we should 
 do it with the recollection of our own unworthiness, 
 and be ready to say with David, when smitten with a 
 sense of his ow^n guilt: "How^ shall the ark of the 
 Lord come unto me?" Perhaps it is the want of this 
 self-abasement, which has prevented, so to speak, the 
 presence of the ark of God, in the midst of us. let 
 our desires for this object be fervent! Let our prayers 
 continually ascend; let us say — "Arise, Lord, into 
 thy rest; thou, and the ark of thy strength. Let thy 
 priests be clothed with righteousness; and let thy saints 
 shout for joy." This is an object in which all should 
 unite — old and young, high and low, rich and poor. 
 Here is work enough for the thousands of Israel; — and 
 there is not a man who is not deeply interested. We 
 should be animated in seeking the Lord's special pres- 
 ence, from the gracious language w^iich he condescended 
 to hold tow'ards Zion. " The Lord hath chosen Zion; 
 
THE ARK OF THE LORD. 133 
 
 he hath desired it for his habitation. This is my rest 
 forever; here will I dwell; fori have desired it." Let 
 us arise and plead mightily -vvith him to lift upon us 
 the light of his countenance, and restore to us the joys 
 of his salvation. 
 
SERMON VII. 
 
 BEHAVIOUR APPROPRIATE TO GOD'S HOUSE. 
 
 ECCLESIASTES, VI., 1. 
 
 " Keep thy foot ivhen thou goesi to the house of God, and be 
 more ready to hear, than to give the sacrifice of fools. ''^ 
 
 It is our privilege, my brethren, to live near the house 
 of God, and often to meet within its sacred walls. We 
 have no such distance to travel, to pay our public de- 
 votions, as had the ancient church of Israel, or even as 
 many have now in our own land. The tabernacles of 
 the Lord are easy of access to us, and the doors of his 
 sanctuary may be said to stand open night and day. 
 It is not only from sabbath to sabbath, but at seasons 
 more frequent that we are permitted to send up our 
 prayers and thanksgivings to God from this place, and 
 that God vouchsafes here to address us by those who 
 minister in his name. 
 
 Why is it then that so many of the Lord's people are 
 ready to cry out, amidst this profusion of means and 
 advantages, — "0 my leanness and my barrenness?" 
 Why is it that so many others go and come to this 
 sacred place from month to month, and year to year, 
 without perceiving any important change in their tem- 
 pers, without acquiring the spirit of Jehovah's worship- 
 
BEHLWIOUR APPROPRIATE TO GOd's HOUSE. 135 
 
 pers, or being fitted for the pure and sublime devotion 
 paid him by his saints and angels in the courts above? 
 Is there no reason to fear that we have too often over- 
 looked the salutary caution given us in the words of 
 the text — " Keep thy foot when thou goest to the house 
 of God, and be more ready to hear than to give the 
 sacrifice of fools ?" 
 
 I am constrained to say, my brethren, that if our 
 approaches to God had not been attended with some 
 marked and criminal defect, we should have experienced 
 far greater blessings from the ordinances of his house 
 than we have recently done; we should have found a 
 day in God's courts better than a thousand; our s':^uls 
 would have been satisfied with marrow and fatness, and 
 •we should have been able continually to praise God 
 with joyful lips. It would have been seen by others and 
 felt more strongly by ourselves, that " they who are 
 planted in the house of the Lord, shall flourish in the 
 courts of our God." 
 
 My design, on the present occasion, is to consider 
 the manner in which we ought to attend upon the duties 
 of the sanctuary, and to urge a serious regard to this 
 subject. 
 
 We shall naturally be led to this by the words before 
 us. " Keep thy foot when thou goest to the house of 
 God, and be more ready to hear than to give or offer 
 the sacrifice of fools." 
 
 The first part of this precept may be considered as a 
 solemn caution against those imperfections which are 
 wont to attend our public devotions. *' Keep thy foot 
 when thou goest to the house of God." That is, in 
 
136 BEHAVIOUR APPROPRIATE TO GOd's HOUSE. 
 
 general terms, do not step heedlessly or carelessly, but 
 ponder well thy path. Remember that it is to the house 
 of God that thou art going; that it is to sacrifice to 
 Him who is perfectly acquainted with all thy ways, and 
 whose greatness and glory demand the entire, the 
 unequivocal homage of thy heart. Apprised of the 
 temptations which lie in wait for thee, exercise a 
 watchful and jealous care over thy thoughts, thy words 
 and actions; that thou may est avoid whatever would be 
 offensive to God, or injurious to thyself or others in the 
 duties of the sanctuary. 
 
 This, in few words, is what is meant by "keeping 
 our foot w^hen we go to the house of God." But the 
 duty here enjoined is of such high importance that it 
 deserves to be considered more at length. There are 
 various particulars, concerning which the most jealous 
 caution and circumspection should be exercised, if we 
 w^ould enter into the spirit of this precept. 
 
 I. In the first place, we should beware of entering 
 upon the duties of the sanctuary in a thoughtless or 
 inconsiderate manner, without preparation and without 
 an object. Many hurry away to the house of God, 
 when the appointed hour of public service arrives, 
 without considering at all with themselves, what object 
 they have in view. They go because others go, and 
 because they themselves have often been, without re- 
 flecting upon the duties to be performed, or the deep 
 and solemn interest which they have in those duties. 
 
 There are others who, possessed of more principle, 
 attend the public devotions of the sanctuary from a con- 
 viction of duty, but who attend them without any 
 
137 
 
 solemn preparation. They stop not to consider whose 
 altars they approach; what sacrifices are required of 
 them; and whether these sacrifices are offered with 
 clean or unclean hands. They rush into God's presence 
 as the horse rusheth to the battle, without that self-col- 
 lection and awe which are indispensable to acceptable 
 worshippers. 
 
 We should beware of such inconsideration, my breth- 
 ren, if we would keep our foot when we go to the house 
 of God: — and instead of coming into his presence in 
 this careless and irreverent manner, we should, as 
 much as possible, contemplate beforehand the solemn 
 business we have to transact with him, and earnestly 
 implore the gracious aids of his blessed Spirit. We 
 should say with the pious David, " send out thy light 
 and thy truth; let them lead me; let them bring me 
 unto thy holy hill, and to thy tabernacles; then will I 
 go unto the altar of God, unto God, my exceeding joy." 
 But, 
 
 2. If we should beware of coming to the house of 
 God in a careless and inconsiderate manner, and as it 
 were without any specific object, we should be no less 
 solicitous to avoid coming with improper motives. We 
 should never enter the sanctuary to pass away an idle 
 hour, which otherwise might hang heavily upon our 
 hands. We should never approach this sacred place, 
 merely for the purpose of entertainment, as men visit 
 the theatre or the ball room; — while our thoughts and 
 desires are far away from the great objects for which 
 divine service was appointed. We should never come 
 hither with the empty design of seeing or being seen, 
 13 
 
138 BEHAVIOUR APPROPRIATE TO GOd's HOUSE. 
 
 and much less for the purpose of making arrangements 
 for business or pleasure, the remainder of the week. 
 Far nobler objects should possess our hearts in such a 
 place and on such an occasion. We should come to 
 worship the King eternal; to pay him homage, as our 
 Creator and Lord; — we should come to hear what God 
 the Lord will say unto us by his messengers, or by his 
 Spirit; — to learn more of his character and of our duty, 
 and to have our hearts inflamed with love to him and 
 to one another. We should come, in a word, to pre- 
 pare for death and eternity, — to get our minds abstracted 
 from the world, our affections deadened towards it, and 
 our thoughts, our desires, our hopes supremely placed 
 on Heaven. 
 
 3. If we will keep our foot when we go to the 
 house of God, we must not only attend to the motives 
 which carry us thither, but to the whole of our de- 
 portment while we are before the Lord. We must see 
 to it that our external carriage be such as becomes the 
 w^orshippers of Jehovah. Not light and frivolous as 
 though we were in a play-house, — not morose and 
 gloomy as though our God delighted in austere and 
 cruel rites; — but serene and solemn as those who 
 .vorship a Being of infinite perfection, and who ar- 
 dently desire to secure his friendship. Our eye must 
 not wander over the assembly of our fellow worshippers, 
 as if it were our chief business to observe their dress or 
 demeanor, nor must we recline in the posture of in- 
 dolence as if we took no interest in the duties of God's 
 appointment, and were only anxious for the tedious 
 service to close. The whole of our external demeanor 
 
BEHAVIOUR APPROPRIATE TO GOd's HOUSE. 139 
 
 should be marked with gravity and devotion, for God 
 is to be worshipped with our bodies, as well as with 
 our spirits. 
 
 A far more important article however is, that our in- 
 ward man should be duly regulated; that the thoughts 
 and feelings of our hearts should be such as a holy and 
 omniscient God will approve. It is the heart which 
 God chiefly looks at in our devotions. Should we bow 
 before him with the apparent reverence of adoring 
 seraphim, it would be vain, unless our hearts were 
 right with him. God cannot be deceived, and he will 
 not be mocked. We should be careful to avoid all 
 vain and unseasonable thoughts on such occasions, and 
 to have our minds exclusively fixed on the great busi- 
 ness to be transacted between God and our souls. 
 This is often a work of difficulty. Our hearts are 
 naturally unstable as water, continually changing the 
 objects of their attention, wandering sometimes like 
 the fool's eyes in the ends of the earth, instead of being 
 absorbed in the duty in which we are professedly 
 engaged. We have need to bring a solemn and 
 earnest spirit with us to the place of our devotions, if 
 we would counteract the temptation which arises to us 
 from this quarter. We must verily believe that there 
 is a God, — that this is the house of God, — that these 
 are his worshippers, and this his service, — a service in 
 which we are deeply and eternally interested, before 
 we can say with the devout psalmist, " O God my 
 heart is fixed, my heart is fixed, I will sing and give 
 praise even with my glory." 
 
 But it is not enough that we keep our foot when we 
 
140 
 
 go to the house of God, we must be " more ready to 
 hear, than to give the sacrifice of fools." We must 
 indulge a spirit of solemn and devout inquiry; we 
 must feel a disposition to know and practice the will 
 of God. But as this-part of the exhortation relates to 
 a specific and important duty, too often performed in a 
 very unprofitable manner, we beg you to give it a 
 serious and prayerful consideration. " Be more ready 
 to hear," says the voice of inspiration, " than to give 
 the sacrifice of fools" — as though we were in danger 
 of playing the part of fools in the house of God, instead 
 of humbly and earnestly listening to his voice. There 
 are many occasions when we actually do this; when 
 we are nothing the better, but probably the worse, for 
 our attendance upon the services of the sanctuary; 
 when instead of being brought near to God in the 
 prayers which are offered, or in the truths which are 
 delivered, we go away with our thoughts dissipated 
 and our hearts hardened. We have seen nothing of 
 God, nothing of ourselves, no good purpose has been 
 formed in us, no grace awakened, no virtue strength- 
 ened, no sinful passion mortified. 
 
 To avoid this unprofitable attendance upon the house 
 of God, the wise man exhorts us to be more ready to 
 hear than to give the sacrifice of fools. But how should 
 we hear, if we would come up to the spirit of this pre- 
 cept? We should hear 
 
 1. With attention, in opposition to a careless or 
 distracted frame of mind. It is but an act of decency 
 to be seriously attentive to what is uttered in God's ' 
 name. Besides, of what consequence will it be that 
 
141 
 
 the preacher addresses us on subjects deeply interesting 
 to our eternal destiny, if our minds are occupied with 
 other things? Can we expect to be instructed or edified, 
 if, instead of distinctly marking the several parts of his 
 discourse, and weighing each sentiment as it passes 
 from his lips, our imaginations are wandering over our 
 farms, or transacting the business of our families, or 
 secretly taken up with the advantages or disadvantages 
 of a bargain? But in hearing the word of God atten- 
 tively, it is important to remark, that our attention 
 should be directed more to the truth itself than to the 
 manner in which it is communicated. It is the truth 
 which instructs and edifies. " Sanctify them through 
 thy truth," said our Lord, " thy word is truth." It 
 is by manifestation of the truth to every man's con- 
 science in the sight of God, that the great object 
 of preaching and hearing the gospel, is attained. 
 Believers therefore are considered not only as having 
 purified their souls by obeying the truth, but as being 
 begotten by the word of truth; as born again, not of 
 corruptible, but of incorruptible seed, by the word of 
 God, which liveth and abideth forever. 
 
 Whatever has not truth for its basis, however much 
 it may gratify our taste, or delight our imaginations, is 
 like a gilded cloud, which passes pleasantly before the 
 eye, for a moment, but presently disappears, and leaves 
 no trace of its form or beauty behind. We want some- 
 thing to fix our principles, and to operate as a constant 
 and powerful spring to our actions. Nothing but the 
 truths of God's word, carried home to our consciences, 
 wull do this. To these, therefore, should our attention; 
 13* 
 
142 
 
 be principally directed, when the servants of the Lord 
 address us in his name. We observe 
 
 2. That if we would be more ready to hear than to 
 give the sacrifice of fools, we must listen to the word 
 w^ith reverence; that is to say, we must hear it as the 
 word of God, not as the word of man. We must not 
 consider the preacher as coming to play a part before 
 us for an hour, while we have nothing to do but to 
 judge of the success with which that part is played; 
 we must consider him as an ambassador of the Lord of 
 Hosts, charged with a solemn message to our souls. 
 We must regard him as actually coming in God's name 
 and in effect speaking the words of God. So far as he 
 speaks according to the sacred oracles, this is the fact; 
 and it is a fact w^hich should be distinctly recognised 
 by us. Too often is God overlooked in the administra- 
 tion of his word: what is heard is not regarded as the 
 authoritative voice of Jehovah, though it may be uttered 
 in language which he himself has dictated, but as the 
 simple unauthorised effort of human talents and skill. 
 It is not surprising, in these circumstances, that the w^ord 
 of the Lord should produce so little effect; that it should 
 so seldom come to us in the demonstration of the Spirit 
 and with power. Confining our attention to the mere 
 instrument, we lose sight of our relations to God, and 
 of those tremendous sanctions of divine authority, 
 which make the w^ords of truth enter into the soul. 
 We may be greatly interested, and even fascinated, with 
 the power of the speaker, while our hearts are in no 
 degree edified by the truth he delivers. We may go 
 from the walls of God's sanctuary, admiring and prais- 
 
143 
 
 ing the gifts of those who minister to us in his name, 
 while the Lord hath sent leanness into our soul. Then 
 only shall we profit by the labours of his servants, when 
 God's voice is heard in their voice ; when w^e reverence 
 their message as the message of the Lord of Hosts, and 
 honor them chiefly for their Master's sake. 
 
 I speak more freely on this subject, because I believe 
 it to be a fault among Christians of the present day, — 
 a fault chargeable in a greater or less degree to every 
 one of us, that God is so much left out of the account in 
 the administration of his w^ord; — that this part of divine 
 service is considered rather as a matter of entertain- 
 ment than as a solemn institution of Heaven, designed 
 for our benefit. 
 
 I tremble to think how this must appear in the eyes 
 of the great God, who is jealous for his name, and who 
 will not see his ordinances perverted w^ithout testifying 
 his displeasure. I blush to think how it must be re- 
 garded by the holy Angels, who are the witnesses of 
 our devotions, and who know^ with what solemnity we 
 ought to hear that word which shall judge us in the 
 great and last day. And I doubt not that we shall all 
 be astonished at our own guilt and folly in this particu- 
 lar, when we see more distinctly our relations to another 
 world;, w^hen eternity, and not time, shall become the 
 principal object of our attention. But I hasten to ob- 
 serve, 
 
 3. That if we hear the word of God, as w^e ought to do, 
 we must hear it with an humble and teachable dispo- 
 sition, in opposition to a proud and captious spirit. 
 This our Lord inculcated upon his disciples, when he 
 
144 
 
 said, " whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God, 
 as a little child, shall in no case enter therein." And 
 the apostle Peter had the same thing in view, when he 
 exhorted believers to " receive w4th meekness the in- 
 grafted word of truth, which was able to save their 
 souls." It is the meek, whom God hath promised to 
 " guide in judgment, — the meek whom he will teach 
 his way." They who dispense the word are required 
 to do it with a spirit of meekness and humility; and 
 they who hear must have the same spirit. There can- 
 not be a readiness to hear where an humble child-like 
 spirit is wanting. There may be a disposition to in- 
 quire, or rather to speculate, and build systems of our 
 own; but there can be no disposition to receive the 
 great and soul humbling truths of the gospel, till we 
 are in some measure humbled ourselves. Our pride 
 must be laid in the dust, before we shall be willing to 
 take the account which God has given us of his cha- 
 racter or of our own. We shall then only be willing 
 to hear and learn of the Father, when we are willing 
 to place God on the throne, and ourselves at his foot- 
 stool. Mary at the feet of Jesus, listening with joy to 
 the gracious words which fell from his lips, is an ex- 
 ample of that humble and teachable spirit which ought 
 to inspire our bosoms, when we attend upon the in- 
 structions of the sanctuary. 
 
 4. Let us add to this, as an important circumstance, 
 that we should hear the word of God with close and 
 pointed application to ourselves. Many a judicious 
 sermon has been lost for want of being personally ap- 
 plied by the hearers. What does it avail that the 
 
BEHAVIOUR APPROPRIATE TO GOd's HOUSE. 145 
 
 character of individuals is drawn with great particu- 
 larity, that their sins and dangers are pointed out with 
 a bold and faithful hand, if these individuals never 
 bring the subject home to themselves; if, after being 
 told every thing, but " thou art the man," they are still 
 looking on the right hand or on the left, to discover the 
 person to whom the observation or reproof applies? 
 Alas! my dear brethren, what is more deceitful than 
 the human heart; and where does its deceitfulness more 
 often appear, than in the artifice employed to hide from 
 its own views the unsightly image of itself frequently and 
 faithfully presented in the glass of God's word? 
 
 How ardently should we pray, " Search me, God, 
 and know me, try my reins and my heart. Let the 
 light of divine truth penetrate the dark recesses of my 
 soul. Let thy word, quick and powerful, and sharper 
 than a two-edged sword, pierce to the dividing asunder 
 of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and 
 become a discerner of the thoughts and intents of my 
 heart." 
 
 5. I remark, that w^e shall but offer the sacrifice of 
 fools, unless we hear the word of God, with faith and 
 love, and especially with a desire to obey. Founded 
 on the veracity of Jehovah, it demands the full and un- 
 wavering assent of our hearts. Containing a glorious 
 system of truth and duty, it ought to be sincerely loved 
 by us, and strictly and conscientiously obeyed. 
 
 To obey is better than sacrifice, and to hearken than 
 the fat of rams. It is chiefly for the purpose of bring- 
 ing our hearts to the obedience of the truth, that the 
 truth is proclaimed in our ears. This is constantly 
 
146 BEILWIOUR APPROPRIATE TO GOd's HOUSE. 
 
 held up as the great end of all the instructions, warn- 
 ings and reproofs of the scripture; and the very per- 
 fection of scripture itself is characterized by this cir- 
 cumstance, — "that it is profitable for doctrine, for 
 reproof, and for instruction in righteousness, that the 
 man of God may be thoroughly furnished unto every 
 good work." We cannot be said to hear the word of 
 God in the highest and best sense"of the expression, 
 unless we obey; for, in the language of scripture, it is 
 often one and the same thing. " Hear my people," 
 saith God, " and I will testify unto thee, O Israel, if 
 thou wilt hearken unto me; there shall no strange God 
 be within thee; neither shalt thou worship any strange 
 god. But my people would not hearken to my voice, 
 and Israel would none of me." That is, they would 
 not obey. " Thus saith the Lord, thy Redeemer, the 
 Holy One of Israel, I am the Lord thy God, which 
 teacheth thee to profit, which leadeth thee by the way 
 that thou shouldst go. that thou hadst hearkened 
 to my commandments! Then had thy peace been as a 
 river, and thy righteousness as the waves of the sea!" 
 O that thou hadst hearkened to my commandments! — 
 that is, that thou hadst kept them. " Put your burnt 
 offerings unto your sacrifices (saith the Lord of Hosts,) 
 and eat flesh. For I spake not unto your fathers, nor 
 commanded them, in the day that I brought them out 
 of the land of Egypt, concerning burnt-offerings and 
 sacrifices; — but this thing commanded I them, saying, 
 obey my voice, and I will be your God and ye shall be 
 my people. But they hearkened not, nor inclined their 
 ear;" — that is they did not obey — " but walked in the 
 
BEHAVIOUR APPROPRIATE TO GOd's HOUSE. 147 
 
 counsels and in the imagination of their evil heart, and 
 went backward, and not forward." 
 
 These scriptures, while they teach us that to hear 
 and obey God is often identical, suggest to us also, the 
 immense importance of obedience. They teach us that 
 all our sacrifices and oblations will be vain without 
 this; — that it will be to no purpose that we appear in 
 the house of God and join in hearing his word and 
 offering our prayers and praises to him, unless it issue 
 in a spirit of obedience to his will. 
 
 I close this discourse, my brethren, by urging a 
 serious attention to the subject now laid before you, 
 " Keep thy foot when thou goest to the house of God, 
 and be more ready to hear than to give the sacrifice of 
 fools." 
 
 This is the voice of Jehovah himself directing his 
 own worshippers. Shall not we regard it as such; shall 
 we not set a double watch over our hearts — nay over 
 the whole of our demeanor, when we come into his 
 sanctuary? " Yes," let us say — " God is to be feared 
 in the assembly of his saints: to be had in reverence of 
 all them that are round about him." While ^ve would 
 not be rash or hasty to utter anything in his presence, 
 let us not trifle with any thing uttered in his name. 
 Remembering that God is in Heaven, and we upon 
 earth, let us approach him with reverence; let us hear 
 him with submission; and let the w^hole of our services 
 begin and end in him. 
 
 Again: We urge this, not only because God com- 
 manded it, but because it is in itself reasonable. Su( h 
 a service is due to the great God of the universe, who 
 
148 
 
 gave us our being and all our powers: — any thing 
 short of this is reproachful to his honour, and unworthy 
 of the relation we bear to him. The worship of his 
 people on earth should bear a resemblance to the wor- 
 ship paid him in Heaven. The service of the lower 
 sanctuary should, in all its parts, be celebrated not only 
 with reference to the sanctuary above, but in the same 
 spirit, — and be only a joyful anticipation of that exalted 
 service, which shall employ our enlarged and sanctified 
 powers throughout the ages of eternity. 
 
 O what preaching, what hearing, what praying, 
 should we have, could our eyes be fixed on the temple 
 above, and our devotions kindled from the fire of those 
 altars, which burn with increasing brightness before 
 the throne of God forever. 
 
 But I ask, my dear friends, what will it profit us to 
 appear in the house of God, unless we attend upon its 
 services in the manner which God has prescribed? 
 Shall we enjoy him in his ordinances? Shall we find 
 the temple of God a bethel; and be made to say with 
 Jacob, " Surely this is none other than the house of 
 God, and the very gate of Heaven?" Shall we find 
 our souls penetrated with the light of divine truth, 
 humbled under a sense of our sins, consoled with the 
 hopes of pardon, — animated to run in the way of God's 
 commandments, — and, in a word, made meet for the 
 service and bliss of the heavenly world? No, my dear 
 friends, none of these blessings will attend us, unless 
 we keep our foot when we go to the house of God. 
 So far from it, our sacrifices will be unavailing, as the 
 sacrifice of fools; nay it will be an abomination unto 
 
BEHAVIOUR APPROPRIATE TO GOd's HOUSE. 149 
 
 the Lord. Privileges abused have a natural tendency 
 to harden the heart and to blind the mind. They 
 often provoke God to give men up as incorrigible, or 
 to remove from them the advantages they have enjoyed. 
 
 Certain it is that if we are not brought to wait upon 
 God here on earth, in the spirit of true worshippers, 
 we shall never be fitted for his temple above; — nay, all 
 the means we have enjoyed in the sanctuary below, — 
 the sermons we have heard — the prayers and thanks- 
 givings in which we have joined, — will sink us to 
 deeper despair in the world of woe. Yes, if we do 
 not learn to keep our foot, when we go to the house of 
 God, and be more ready to hear than to give the 
 sacrifice of fools, we shall finally curse the day and the 
 place of our birth; we shall wish that we had been 
 born among the savage tribes of the wilderness, where 
 no temples of God are to be seen, no voice of mercy 
 is heai'd, rather than in places, near the doors of 'he 
 sanctuary, where from our infancy, the public worship 
 of God has been celebrated, and the oracles of divine 
 truth explained. 
 
 Let it be our constant and fervent prayer to God, 
 that his Spirit may be poured out upon us, and our 
 hearts so trained to his service here on earth, that we 
 may enjoy the comfort of his presence in this world, 
 and finally be made pillars in that temple of Qrlory, 
 where we shall go no more out. 
 
 14 
 
SERMON VIII. 
 
 DISINTERESTEDNESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 
 
 JOB, I., 9. 
 
 Then Satan answered the Lord and said, Doth Job fear God 
 for nought ? 
 
 The book of Job is nearly all written in Hebrew 
 verse, in the dramatic form, and is certainly one of the 
 most ancient and sublime poems in the world. We are 
 not certain, at this distance of time, who was the au- 
 thor; some ascribing it to Moses, others to Ezra, and 
 others to one of the prophets. All, however, agree 
 that it is a poem written under the influence of divine 
 inspiration, founded substantially in fact, and contain- 
 ing important instructions in relation to our duty. 
 
 That there was such a man as Job, distinguished for 
 his suiferings and his virtues, admits of no dispute. 
 He is numbered among the most eminent saints by the 
 prophet Ezekiel; and St. James says, " Ye have heard 
 of the patience of Job, and have seen the end of the 
 Lord; that the Lord is very pitiful and of tender mercy 
 to those that fear him." 
 
 As to the authority of this ancient book, it may be 
 sufficient to observe that it has always been reckoned 
 as a part of the inspired volume, both by Jewish and 
 
DISINTERESTEDNESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 151 
 
 Christian writers, and is frequently referred to in the 
 Psalms, in the prophets, and in the writings of the 
 apostles of our Lord and Saviour. We consider the his- 
 torical parts of it, therefore, as a correct and faithful 
 narrative of the sufferings and patience of an eminent 
 servant of God, of the happy issue to which his suffer- 
 ings were finally brought, and of the different opinions 
 which were entertained of the dispensations of Provi- 
 dence in that early period of the world. 
 
 In the chapter before us, a brief statement is given 
 of Job's remarkable piety, amidst the greatest worldly 
 affluence, — a situation so intoxicating to human pride, 
 and so ensnaring to all the corrupt passions of the 
 heart, that few are able to withstand the temptations 
 it presents, and fewer still, to exhibit in such circum- 
 stances an example of piety and moderation. 
 
 On some occasion, when the sons of God had met 
 together, and Satan their watchful adversary appeared 
 among them, the Lord said unto Satan, " Hast thou 
 considered my servant Job, that there is none like him 
 in all the earth, a perfect and an upright man, one that 
 feareth God, and eschew eth evil?" To which Satan 
 replied, " Doth Job fear God for nought? Hast thou 
 not made a hedge about him, and about all that he 
 hath on every side. Thou hast blessed the work of his 
 hands, and his substance is increased in the land. But 
 put forth now thine hand and touch all that he hath, 
 and he will curse thee to thy face;" hereby intimating 
 that Job was completely selfish in all his religious 
 services; that he was dutiful to God, because God was 
 bountiful to him; but that in a change of circumstan- 
 
152 DISINTERESTEDNESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 
 
 ces, all his piety and virtue would fall to the ground. 
 As if the adversary had said, " Let it be seen that he 
 is no longer protected and blessed by the power that he 
 worships, and instead of the sacrifices which he now 
 offers and the multiplied prayers which he presents, he 
 will despise thine altars, and blaspheme the authority 
 which thou hast set up." 
 
 This is manifestly the spirit of Satan's accusation 
 against Job; and though it was dictated by malevo- 
 lence, and designed perhaps to justify his own rebellion, 
 it goes to the establishment of this important truth — 
 that true religion is by no means founded on the nar- 
 row principles of self-interest, but on the broad basis 
 of disinterested and benevolent affection; or, in 
 other words, in that pure and holy love which is the 
 radical principle of all acceptable obedience. 
 
 The object of this discourse will be to illustrate and 
 confirm this sentiment. And so important do we con- 
 sider it, that we cannot but respectfully and earnestly 
 solicit a careful attention to the remarks which are 
 intended to be offered. It is not our design to make 
 an attack upon any man's creed, nor are we anxious 
 that others should adopt the very words and phrases 
 which we employ. But we desire that the truth should 
 appear, and appear in such an attractive and convincing 
 form as to gain a lodgment in every conscience and 
 heart. 
 
 That true religion is not a selfish, but a disinterested 
 affection, terminating in the excellence of God's 
 character, the glory of his great name and the welfare 
 of his kingdom, we think might easily be demonstrated 
 
DISINTERESTEDNESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 153 
 
 from the tenor of the divine law, —the sum of which is, 
 " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy hearty 
 and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and with 
 all thy strength, and thy neighbour as thyself" Love 
 is the fulfilling of this law; and of course comprehends 
 the whole of our duty. For when we have loved to 
 the full extent of the precept, and expressed our love 
 in such manner as our conditions and relations demand, 
 nothing more is left to be done. All that we owe to 
 God, to ourselves or to our neighbour, is completely 
 discharged. But what kind of love is that, which thus 
 meets all the requisitions of the Divine law? Does it 
 not embrace a love of complacency towards him, whose 
 character is supremely excellent, and towards those who 
 bear his image, while it includes a love of benevolence 
 or good will towards every being capable of enjoyment? 
 
 That this is not a mere selfish affection, is evident 
 not only from the terms of the law in which it is ex- 
 pressed, but from the fact that God's law is a transcript 
 of his own heart, and that we are required to be like 
 God and like Christ, whose love is certainly not selfish, 
 but in the highest degree disinterested. 
 
 Were not this the case indeed, how could loving our 
 enemies, doing good to those that hate us, and praying 
 for those that despitefully use us and persecute us, become 
 a part of our duty? Or will it be pretended that we 
 can love those that hate us, from motives of self in- 
 terest? 
 
 Whatever may be said for the support of a favourite 
 theory, I believe it will not be regarded as consonant 
 to our experience, that the love we have for ourselves 
 14* 
 
154 DISINTERESTEDNESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 
 
 exerts any influence in generating kind affections 
 towards those who oppose us, and who do all in their 
 power to destroy us. It is common in such cases to 
 feel the spirit of hostility stirred within us, and to re- 
 turn evil for evil, and railing for railing; and it is only 
 when that holy and benevolent love is in exercise, 
 which subdues the selfish feelings of the heart, that we 
 are enabled to love and sincei'ely to bless our enemy. 
 
 My design, however, is not to argue so much from 
 abstract principles, as to illu.strate this truth from the 
 case of Job himself The causes, the circumstances, 
 and the issue of his afflictions, all conspire to show that 
 true religion is not a selfish thing, but is founded in 
 love of a holy and disinterested character. 
 
 God, you will observe, had spoken well of his ser- 
 vant Job^ as a perfect and. upright man, — one who 
 feared Him and eschewed evil. Satan disputes the 
 justness of this account, and alledges that Job's seeming 
 goodness was the result of self-interest, and therefore 
 that, in other circumstances, he would hate and reproach 
 that very Being, whom he now professed to love and 
 adore. The Lord answered, " I will put the character of 
 my servant to trial. If he serves me only because I have 
 made a hedge about him and about all that he hath, and 
 would curse me to my face, if my favour towards him 
 were removed, let it be ascertained by the trial. Be- 
 hold all that he hath is in thy power; remove it when 
 and how thou wilt, only upon himself put not forth 
 thy hand." 
 
 With this permission Satan began his work; and 
 the more effectually to surprise and overwhelm Job, he 
 
DISINTERESTEDNESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 155 
 
 contrives to throw him from the height of his pros- 
 perity to the deepest adversity, in one day. First, 
 the Sabeans plunder him of his oxen which were 
 ploughing in the field, and of the asses which were 
 feeding beside them, slaying the servants with the edge 
 of the sword. Next, fire comes down from heaven and 
 burns up the sheep snd the servants who fed them. 
 Then the Chaldeans make out three bands, and fall 
 upon the camels, and carry them away, slaying the 
 servants with the edge of the sword. And last of all, 
 to complete the desolating scene, a great wind from 
 the wilderness smites the four corners of his eldest 
 son's house, where all his children were assembled for 
 the purpose of eating and drinking, and instantly buries 
 them in its ruins, thus sweeping forever from his sight 
 all that a fond parent could hope from being surrounded 
 and sustained by his beloved children. Perhaps too, 
 as they were suddenly cut off in the morning of their 
 days, his pious heart might be smitten with fear lest 
 they were taken away in wrath, and had gone to 
 people the world of wo. 
 
 But what was the effect of these sudden and compli- 
 cated trials? Did Job forget his obligations to God, 
 as Satan had predicted? Did he cease to adore that 
 eternal power from whom his existence and all his 
 comforts w^ere derived? Did he curse God because 
 these comforts had been so suddenly and awfully re- 
 moved? Did he so much as muimur or repine that a 
 change so sudden and distressing had befallen him? 
 No — he " arose, and rent his mantle, and shaved his 
 head, and fell down upon the ground, and worship- 
 
156 DISINTERESTEDNESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 
 
 ped, saying, Naked came I out of my mother's womb, 
 and naked shall I return thither. The Lord gave and 
 the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the 
 the Lord." Thus far Job's religion endured the test, 
 and the disingenuous charge of Satan w^as confuted. 
 But unwilling to yield the controversy, the subtle ad- 
 versary attempts to account for the submission of Job 
 on selfish principles, and says, when God appeals to 
 him for the persevering integrity of his servant, " Skin 
 for skin; yea all that a man hath will he give for his 
 life;" — as if Job had submitted wholly from a fear of 
 greater calamities, not at all from a sense of duty; as 
 though his apparent willingness that God should be on 
 the throne, was nothing more than a disposition to 
 compound with Divine Providence by cheerfully giving 
 up a less good, when a greater one was at stake. " Put 
 forth thine hand now, and touch his bone and his flesh 
 and he will curse thee to thy face." The Lord answered 
 " Behold he is in thine hand, but spare his life." You 
 know the sequel. Immediately he is smitten with sore 
 biles from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot, 
 and thus not only bereft of the last drop of comfort, 
 but filled with extreme anguish, and held up a spectacle 
 of universal loathing and astonishment. Was ever so 
 great a change in human condition? But yesterday 
 the child of prosperity, dwelling in affluence, surrounded 
 by children and friends, and all that heart could wish; — 
 now stripped of all, and sinking under the weight of a 
 loathsome disease. See him scraping his swollen limbs 
 w^ith a potsherd, while he seats himself alone in the 
 ashes, as if unfit for the society of human beings, and 
 
DISINTERESTEDNESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 157 
 
 incapable of drawing the least consolation from his 
 being numbered with the living. But this was not the 
 whole of his affliction. So great a change in his out- 
 ward circumstances had opened the mouths of all his 
 adversaries. Those whose fathers he would have dis- 
 dained to set with the dogs of his flock, made him the 
 object of their indignant sneer, and triumphed in his 
 fall. And even his best friends were staggered at his 
 sufferings, and knew not how to reconcile them with 
 the integrity for which he had long been distinguished. 
 Nay, they withdrew from him their confidence, and 
 instead of administering to his comfort, wounded him 
 to the heart, not only insinuating that he was a hypocrite, 
 but that he lay under the charge of some awful and 
 unrepented iniquity. 
 
 To complete his misery, the wife of his bosom, who 
 we might have expected would have remained a fast 
 friend, w^hen all the world had forsaken him, was, for a 
 season, turned into a bitter and unfeeling enemy. In 
 the language of cruel sarcasm, she says, "Dost thou 
 still retain thine integrity? Curse God, and die," or 
 rather as it is in the original, " Bless God and die." 
 As much as to say, " If you are still resolved to bear 
 .your afflictions with patience, and to bless that Being, 
 who has stripped you of all your worldly substance, 
 and cut off your children in the morning of their days, 
 whose hand is now pressing you sore with an insup- 
 portable disease — if, under all this, you are resolved to 
 bless, go on blessing until you die; for the eye of man 
 will not pity you." 
 
 The answer which he returned shows us how keenly 
 
158 DISINTERESTEDNESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 
 
 he felt the wound which her language was calculated 
 to inflict; but, at the same time how firmly his heart 
 remained fixed in its submission to the divine will — 
 " Thou speakest as one of the foolish women speaketh. 
 Shall we receive good at the hand of God and shall 
 we not receive evil?" 
 
 It may well be doubted if ever a man suffered as 
 much, in a given period, from the calamitous dispen- 
 sations of Divine Providence, or if ever one displayed 
 an equal degree of patience and submission. Read 
 the account which he gives of his sufferings in the nine- 
 teenth chapter of this book, and you will perceive that 
 every cord of human misery was touched, every fibre 
 of his heart was the seat of anguish; and yet such was 
 his submission that not a word of complaint fell from 
 his lips, until exhausted by disease, and worn out by 
 the unkindness of his friends, he could scarcely be con- 
 sidered as any longer himself. His example indeed 
 was not perfect, like that of the Divine Saviour; still 
 it was such as showed the uprightness of his heart. 
 Through all his sufferings he acknowledged the justice 
 of God, and declared his unshaken purpose to serve 
 him to the last. Nay, when all his friends had forsa- 
 ken him, — when every thing in Divine Providence wore 
 a threatening aspect, — even in his greatest darkness, he 
 reposed himself upon the arm of the Almighty, saying 
 " Though he slay me yet will I trust in him." 
 
 Now, what was the point to be settled by this trial? 
 Satan had alleged that Job was governed by a princi- 
 ple of supreme self-love, and particularly by a regard 
 to his worldly interests, — that the very best that could 
 
DISINTERESTEDNESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 159 
 
 be said of him was, that he served God as an ac- 
 knowledgment of the favours he had received, and that 
 consequently a change of circumstances would lead to 
 a change of character; in short, that should God re- 
 move the hedge he had placed about him, and lay upon 
 him the rod of affliction, this devout worshipper of Je- 
 hovah, this thankful observer of his providence, would 
 be turned into a despiser of his authority, and a com- 
 plainer against his government. This is the spirit of 
 the allegation, and if the fact assumed in it had been 
 just, no doubt the conclusion built upon this fact would 
 have been just also. But the experiment Avas made 
 for the very purpose of showing that the assumption 
 here was false, that Job did not serve God from sinister 
 motives, but from a high and honorable sense of duty, 
 from love to God, and a delight in his holy will. And 
 if this w^as the character of Job's religion, it cannot be 
 made a question that it is the character of all true re- 
 ligion, insomuch that where this disinterested spirit is 
 wanting, there all true piety and virtue are wanting 
 also. The point at issue was, whether Job was really 
 a good man; and this point was to be determined by 
 determining the motives which governed him, — whe- 
 ther they w^ere of a selfish or of a higher and nobler 
 character. 
 
 A few inferences and reflections will now close this 
 discourse. 
 
 First. It is exceedingly obvious from the question 
 which Satan agitated with God in respect to Job, that 
 it is the motive of an action which determines it 
 to be blame, or praise-worthy. As to Job's external 
 
160 DISINTERESTEDNESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 
 
 uprightness, there was no dispute. The only thing in 
 debate was, whether his motives were good; and it was 
 admitted by God himself, if this were not the fact, that 
 he was hypocritical, and his character of no value. The 
 whole trial in his case proceeded on the principle that 
 the same external conduct may flow from very different 
 motives, and these alone in God's sight will decide the 
 question of moral character. 
 
 This is a truth which we shall none of us deny, but 
 which, it is to be feared, is too little attended to in 
 judging of ourselves. Our hearts are deceitful above 
 all things and desperately wicked, and too often per- 
 haps, we are ready to pronounce in our own favour, if 
 our external conduct be regular, whatever may be the 
 motive from which it springs. How many take to 
 themselves the character of being honest and just, 
 because they have not knowingly and deliberately de- 
 frauded their neighbour, though they may have been 
 kept within the bounds pf justice, not from any love to 
 justice itself, but from the fear of detection, or from the 
 selfish wish to establish a character for honesty and 
 integrity in the world I How many flatter themselves 
 with the idea of being charitable, because they con- 
 tributed to the W' ants of the poor, or for the support of 
 objects of public utility, while their hearts are total 
 strangers to the principle of charity, and while they 
 have had no higher motive, than to be seen of men, or 
 to silence the clamour of conscience, and escape the 
 wrath of their Judge! How many who claim to them- 
 selves the character of religious, because they are at- 
 tentive to the externals of religion, though they look 
 
DISINTERESTEDNESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 161 
 
 not into the secret motives of their hearts, nor seek for 
 purity of intention there? 
 
 Secondly: Our subject may render us important aid 
 in the work of self-examination. 
 
 The character of Job, as an upright man, turned upon 
 the single question, whether he served God from a 
 principle of self love only, or fro u a sense of duty, — 
 from love to God's holy character and will. Our cha- 
 racters as professors of religion, will turn upon the same 
 question. 
 
 Do we serve God then because we love Him? Do 
 we love Him because he is holy ? Would our views 
 of his character and our regard to his service be sub- 
 stantially the same, whether his favour were extended 
 to us or not? Let these questions be carefully consid- 
 ered by us, because if a principle of pure and holy love 
 to God be not the governing motive with us; if we 
 serve him not because we delight in him, and delight 
 in him not because he is holy, depend upon it, some 
 sin er motive lies at the bottom of all, — a principle 
 of selfishness which will render our whole character 
 unsavoury to God, — as unsavoury as Job's would have 
 been, if all that Satan alleged against him had been 
 founded in fact. 
 
 Professors of religion, would you know indeed 
 whether your religion will bear the test of the holy and 
 omniscient scrutiny of God ? Settle this one point with 
 yourselves, whether you are actuated merely by a re- 
 gard to your own happiness, or whether you are moved 
 also by a sense of duty, and an affectionate regard to 
 God's will. 
 
 15 
 
162 DISINTERESTEDNESS OF TRUE RELIGION. 
 
 Thirdly : Our subject suggests the remark that selfish 
 beings are exceedingly inclined to impute to others the 
 motives by which they are governed themselves, and 
 perhaps to deny to others the possibility of acting from 
 any higher motives than those which influence their own 
 minds. This was certainly the case with the great 
 adversary in relation to Job. Completely selfish him- 
 self, he was forward to charge the same disposition to 
 others. The event proved, however, that he was in an 
 error; and it proved no less that those are equally in 
 error who argue from their own experience to the ex- 
 perience of God's people, and deny to them both the 
 fact and the possibility of acting from motives of a 
 disinterested character. 
 
 Finally: As the real character of Job was decided by 
 the changes through which he passed, so it will be 
 with ourselves. A great and awful experiment is 
 making with regard to every one of us. By and by the 
 grand result will be proclaimed, our characters w^ill be 
 formed, and our destiny sealed. 
 
 Let us bear this awful consideration upon our minds 
 night and day. And let the period of our probation 
 terminate whenever it may, may the great purpose of 
 probation in respect to us be answered by our having 
 formed characters that will bear the scrutiny of the 
 omniscient eye. 
 
SERMON IX. 
 
 PROGRESSIVE COURSE OF THE CHRISTIAN. 
 
 PSALM XCII., 12. 
 
 " The righteous shall fiourish like the palm tree : he shitll grow 
 like a cedar in Lebanon^ 
 
 This is one of the many passages of sacred writ, in 
 which the lasting and increasing prosperity of the 
 righteous is described, in opposition to the momentary 
 joy and miserable overthrow of the wicked. The 
 Psalmist had said, " When the wicked spring as the 
 grass, and when all the workers of iniquity do flourish, 
 it is that they shall be destroyed forever. For lo, thine 
 enemies Lord; for lo, thine enemies shall perish; all 
 the workers of iniquity shall be scattered. But my 
 horn shalt thou exalt, like the horn of a unicorn; I 
 shall be anointed with fresh oil. Mine eye also shall 
 see my desire upon mine enemies, and mine ears shall 
 hear my desire of the wicked that rise up against me." 
 Nor did he regard this state of prosperity as peculiar 
 to himself; he viewed the whole congregation of the 
 faithful as embraced in the same promises, and sustained 
 by the same arm; and therefore he rises into this solemn 
 and universal declaration; — ^^ The righteous shall flour- 
 ish like the palm tree; he shall grow like a cedar in 
 
164 PROGRESSIVE COURSE OF THE CHRISTIAN. 
 
 Lebanon" — trees remarkable for thriftiness, and both 
 evergreen: and upon this account the fitter emblems of 
 the righteous, whose prosperity is rich and abiding. 
 Keeping up the figure he adds, " Those that be planted 
 in the house of the Lord, shall flourish in the courts of 
 our God; they shall still bring forth fruit in old age; 
 they shall be fat and flourishing." But this prosperity 
 of the righteous, so elegantly described by the Psalmist, 
 has undoubtedly a principal reference to their spiritual 
 welfare. Not indeed but that a virtuous course has, in 
 the ordinary progress of things, much the fairest chance 
 for the attainment of all that can render us honorable 
 and happy in this world; but God has not bound himself 
 by promise to make his people, in all cases, liberal 
 sharers in the good things of the present life, nor even 
 to protect them from the common calamities of this sinful 
 and suffering state. Thousands we know have been des- 
 titute, afl3icted, tormented, of whom the world was not 
 w^orthy. Thousands and tens of thousands have been 
 dragged to prison and to death, for their regard to the 
 great cause of truth and righteousness. And others, in 
 more peaceful times, have been the subjects of singular 
 adversity, having waters of a full cup wrung out to 
 them. Still they are interested in the provisions of the 
 everlasting covenant, and have the assurance that 
 *' The Lord knoweth them that are his," and that " all 
 things shall work together for their good." 
 
 It is in relation to their spiritual concerns, chiefly, 
 that their prosperity is so strongly marked in the words 
 before us; and whatever others may think, it is enough 
 for them, if all be well here: — if they can only advance 
 
PROGRESSIVE COURSE OF THE CHRISTIAN. 165 
 
 in the divine life and enjoy the light of God's coun- 
 tenance, two things are certain; — they cannot be mis- 
 erable in this world, and they will be eternally happy 
 in the world which is to come. 
 
 But the great and leading truth taught us in the text, 
 and Vv'hich I propose briefly to illustrate, is, that the 
 righteous not only hold on their way, in opposition to 
 many who apparently begin in the spirit and end in the 
 flesh, but they actually make progress in religion ; — they 
 flourish like the palm tree, and grow like the cedar; — 
 they bring forth fruit, even in old age. I regard this 
 not only as a fact, but as a fact of deep and vital im- 
 portance; and I cannot but hope that the discussion of 
 this subject, at all times proper, will be viewed as in a 
 high degree seasonable, at the present moment. 
 
 In my remarks upon this subject I propose to illustrate 
 the fact that the righteous make progress in religion; 
 and then show that this is an essential and distinguish- 
 ing trait of their character. 
 
 I. In what respects do the righteous make progress 
 in religion? 
 
 It is not my intention to intimate that they never 
 suffer any temporary decay, or that, when they go 
 forward, they always move with the same uniform pace 
 towards the mark of perfection. Vv^e know very well 
 that the best are subject to occasional declension, and 
 that those whose piety ought not to be disputed, do 
 sometimes so far lose the vital power of godliness as 
 to occasion great darkness to their own souls, and 
 bring upon themselves the severest rebukes of Divine 
 Providence. Our meaning is, that the righteous make 
 *15 
 
166 PROGRESSIVE COURSE OF THE CHRISTIAN. 
 
 progress in religion, taking the several periods of their 
 lives together, and that this progress consists in some- 
 thing more than mere negative virtue or forbearing to 
 do evil; — that it implies an increase in those spiritual 
 exercises and attainments which go to make up the 
 divine life. 
 
 The righteous, we observe, first of all, make progress 
 in divine knowledge. They become more minutely 
 and extensively acquainted with the perfections of 
 God, — his wisdom, his power, his holiness, his justice, 
 his mercy, his truth. These attributes which struck 
 them with wonder at first, the more they are contemp- 
 lated, the more wonderful and glorious do they appear; 
 their proper objects are more distinctly ascertained, 
 and their beauty and harmony in the works of God, 
 more decisively marked. They learn more too of the 
 wonderful purity and breadth of God's law. At their 
 earliest discoveries of its spirituality, they saw plainly 
 that it reached to the thoughts and intents of the heart; 
 but they grow in their acquaintance with its demands; 
 they see more clearly both what it forbids and what it 
 enjoins. At the same time, they receive deeper im- 
 pressions of its reasonableness and authority. They 
 increase too in their knowledge of the great principles 
 and ends of God's government, and therefore better 
 understand the nature and tendency of his providential 
 dispensations. 
 
 Equally certain is it that they grow in their know- 
 ledge of Christ; his person, character, oflSce, work. 
 Every true Christian is supposed to know something 
 of them at his first entrance upon the religious life. 
 
PROGRESSIVE COURSE OF THE CHRISTIAN. 167 
 
 But the experience of every day serves greatly to ex- 
 tend the boundaries of his knowledge. No single duty 
 can be performed acceptably, but in the name of Christ, 
 and by virtue of strength derived from him. This 
 leads him often to contemplate the character and 
 mediation of Christ; to learn more distinctly who he is, 
 what offices he sustains in relation to his people, what 
 they may expect from him, and upon what conditions 
 they may expect it. Hence he becomes more inti- 
 mately acquainted with the Saviour, and feels more 
 sensibly his entire and absolute dependence upon him. 
 In learning more of God and of Christ, the righteous 
 learn more of the relations which they bear to them, 
 and consequently of the duties which they owe in these 
 relations; especially as the law of God, which is the 
 measure of their duty, is continually unfolding in its 
 spirituality and extent. The consequence is, that they 
 not only discover new duties in their course, but discern, 
 with far greater clearness, the nature and importance 
 of those which they had hitherto known. Hence also 
 it is that they learn better to estimate the value of one 
 duty, compared with another. The inexperienced 
 Christian often discovers great zeal in performing du- 
 ties of lesser moment, while those which Christ styles 
 the weightier matters of the law, though not neglected, 
 are attended to with comparatively little engagedness 
 and punctuality. But as he advances in the divine life, 
 his judgment grows more correct, and he estimates 
 things in a truer light. 
 
 The righteous, moreover, learn more of themselves, 
 as they advance. They become better acquainted with 
 
168 pROGREssn^E cotrnsE of the christian. 
 
 tbelr own weaknesses and temptations, with the deceit- 
 fulness and corruption of their own hearts. Perhaps 
 their knowledge increases more sensibly on this point 
 than any other. The sad experience of each day has a 
 tendency to make them see more and more of that body 
 of sin and death, which is yet undestroyed within them. 
 
 They learn more also of the vanity of the world, 
 and the snares and temptations w^hich the world pre- 
 sents. They obtain larger experience of the devices of 
 the great adversary, who assails them in a thousand 
 forms, and by instruments as various as the different 
 objects they meet and the different scenes through w^hich 
 they pass; and they become better acquainted with the 
 means by which he is to be resisted and overcome. In 
 one word, they advance in the knowledge of religion, 
 both as a system of truth and an inward practical 
 principle. 
 
 Secondly: The righteous make progress in holy 
 and devout affections. This may be regarded in part 
 as the result of an increase of knowledge. For the 
 more the doctrines and duties of religion are understood, 
 other things being equal, the more will they be loved. 
 Hence we are commanded to grow in knowledge, as a 
 means of growing in grace; and hence also sound doc- 
 trine is considered as the proper food and nourishment 
 of Christians. But to be more particular — 
 
 The righteous may be considered as increasing in 
 love and reverence for God, entertaining more exalted 
 views of his perfections, feeling a deeper interest in the 
 progress of his kingdom, and acting more constantly 
 and sincerely with reference to his glory. They in- 
 
PROGRESSIVE COURSE OF THE CHRISTIAN. 169 
 
 crease in holy gratitude to God, recognizing his favours 
 with warmer sensibility, and growing in a conviction 
 of their own unworthiness, and of the amazing riches 
 of the divine mercy. As the character of God is more 
 and more unfolded from the exhibitions made of himself 
 in his works and in his word, so their hearts are ex- 
 panded by degrees with those divine affections, which 
 his character is calculated to inspire. They have more 
 love, more reverence, more gratitude, more submission, 
 more undivided concern for his glory. 
 
 They make advances also in their hatred of sin, and 
 their sorrow for it. It is not with a true Christian, as 
 some seem to imagine — that he begins his course, with 
 the bitterest repentance for the sins that are past, and 
 afterwards has no more sorrowing and repenting to do. 
 His life is a life of deep repentance and unfeigned hu- 
 miliation; and this is, in no degree, inconsistent with 
 his making progress in holiness. For it is one way in 
 which holiness in an imperfect being manifests itself, — 
 to loathe remaining impurity and to sigh after greater 
 degrees of sanctification. It cannot be pretended that 
 the most exalted Christian on earth is perfect. In ma- 
 ny things we all offend, and in all we come short of 
 the glory of God. There must, therefore, be daily 
 and hourly need of repentance: and why should not 
 the heart that sees this, feel and act according to the 
 nature of the case 1 It is past all doubt that, as the 
 soul makes progress in the divine life, sin, in its esti- 
 mation, becomes increasingly heinous; and hence, 
 though the power of sin is more and more broken, still 
 
170 
 
 PROGRESSIVE COURSE OF THE CHRISTIAN. 
 
 the remains of it excite deeper sorrow, and cause a 
 more unfeigned humiliation. There are none who so 
 often cry out, " O, wretched man that I am, who shall 
 deliver me from the body of this death?" — as those who 
 have attained the advanced sanctification of the Apostle. 
 To such persons sin appears to be sin indeed. An im- 
 proper thought, a mere defect which would pass wholly 
 unnoticed by a conscience less quick, and a heart less 
 sanctified and sensible than theirs, stands arrayed in 
 awful colours, presenting a cloud of guilt, black with 
 terror, and but for the blood of the cross, it would over- 
 whelm them in despair. The consequence is that they 
 walk softly before God, and continue to seek after con- 
 formity to him, while sin is daily more embittered and 
 the cry for deliverance is repeated with greater fre- 
 quency and earnestness. 
 
 The righteous increase in spirituality moreover, 
 inasmuch as they increase in patience, charity, meek- 
 ness, self-denial, deadness to the world, hope in 
 God's mercy and faith unfeigned. Their progress is 
 especially and strongly marked by an increase of faith 
 and hope. Joy may not be so lively: the various sen- 
 sibilities of the soul may be less awake; but faith and 
 hope will be even more firm and vigorous. The repeat- 
 ed instances which they have had of God's faithfulness, 
 and the large experience of his mercy, in times when 
 everything around looked dark and boding, can scarcely 
 fail to increase their confidence in him. These things 
 give them a firmer trust in his promises, and greatly 
 strengthen their hopes of acceptance with Him, beyond 
 
PROGRESSIVE COURSE OF THE CHRISTIAN. J 71 
 
 what they had experienced in the earlier perio:'s of 
 the Christian life. But not to protract this part of the 
 subject, I very briefly remark, once more, 
 
 That the progress, which the righteous make in the 
 path of religion, is seen in the consistency and uniform- 
 ity of their conduct. They are less and less liable to 
 those sudden transitions of sentiment and feeling, 
 which they experienced in the first entrance on their 
 course. They go forward with a firmer step, and if 
 they do not appear to move so rapidly, still their pro- 
 gress is more uniform, and their advance, on the whole, 
 more certain as well as more considerable. They are 
 more able to encounter difficulties and receive less in- 
 jury from the enemies who would willingly obstruct 
 their path. In short, you may compare them in their 
 progress to children who are rising to manhood; they 
 lose some of their vivacity, — some of their zeal: but 
 they acquire more industry, more strength, more skill, 
 and consequently reach a higher eminence in the 
 divine life. In these respects, and in others which 
 might be mentioned, do the righteous make progress 
 in religion. But I call your attention to the 
 
 II. Second branch of the discourse, in which I am 
 to show that this advance in the divine life is an essen- 
 tial characteristic of the righteous; or, which amounts 
 to the same thing, that the righteous, notwithstanding 
 any partial declensions, do eventually hold on their 
 way, and make progress in the knowledge and practice 
 of their duty. 
 
 We might rest assured of this from the single pas- 
 sage on which we have grounded our meditations at 
 
172 PROGRESSIVE COURSE OF THE CHRISTIAN. 
 
 this time. For unless we admit that the righteous 
 make progress in religion, how could it be said of them 
 that " they shall flourish like the palm tree, and grow 
 like the cedar in Lebanon?" That "those who are 
 planted in the house of the Lord, shall flourish in the 
 courts of our God?" that " they shall still bring forth 
 fruit in old age;" that "they shall be fat and flour- 
 ishing?" But the language of Scripture is uniform on 
 this subject. The Psalmist tells us in the eighty-fourth 
 psalm, not only that the righteous have their strength 
 in God, but that " they shall go from strength to 
 strength, every one of them in Zion appearing before 
 God." We read also, " That the righteous shall hold 
 on his way, and he that hath clean hands shall wax 
 stronger and stronger." And we are told not only, 
 that God will bless and establish the habitation of the 
 just, but that " the path of the just is as the shining 
 light, which increaseth more and more unto the perfect 
 day;" words, which strongly mark the progress of the 
 just in those great principles of truth and righteous- 
 ness by which they stand distinguished from the wicked. 
 Does not our Saviour bear testimony to the same 
 truth, not only w^hen he describes his disciples as those 
 who love God and keep his commandments, — as those 
 who enter upon a religious course, and who endure in 
 that course to the end, but especially when he teaches 
 us that the kingdom of God is like a grain of mustard 
 seed, which, though the least of all seeds, yet when it 
 is grown, becomes the greatest of all herbs, so that the 
 fowls of the air come and lodge in the branches of it? 
 And then again, when he likens it to a corn of wheat 
 
PROGRESSIVE COURSE OF THE CHRISTIAN. 173 
 
 cast into the ground: — "There is first the blade, then 
 the ear, then the full or ripe corn in the ear." If he 
 alludes to the kingdom of God, as established in the 
 hearts of men, as well as to this kingdom set up in 
 the world, the inference is irresistible that the work of 
 grace in every renewed heart is progressive; — that 
 they who truly become heirs of the heavenly kingdom, 
 increase in their meetness for that kingdom, as they 
 advance in life and come nearer to the time when they 
 shall take possession of it. And why should not this 
 be thought reasonable? So, we are assured it was 
 wuth the Apostle, and his companions in labours and 
 sufferings. Though the outward man decayed, yet 
 the inward man was renewed day by day. Forgetting 
 the things which were behind, and reaching forth to 
 those things which were before, they pressed toward the 
 mark for the prize of the high calling of God, which is 
 in Christ Jesus our Lord. " The weapons of our war- 
 fare," they could say, "are not carnal, but mighty 
 through God, to the pulling dow^n of strong holds, 
 casting down imaginations, and_ every high thing 
 which exalteth itself against the knowledge of God, 
 and bringing into captivity every thought to the obe- 
 dience of Christ." 
 
 God has implanted in the heart of every true Christian 
 substantially the sartie principles; — I mean a hatred of 
 sin, and an inextinguishable desire to be holy; and 
 shall these principles w^ork no change in his character? 
 God has given unto him the hope of everlasting hap- 
 piness in a world where he shall be as free from sin as 
 he shall be from sorrow; and shall not this hope lead 
 16 
 
174 PROGRESSIVE COURSE OF THE CHRISTIAN. 
 
 him to purify himself, even as Christ his Lord is pure? 
 We cannot assert the contrary, without denying the 
 most solemn and explicit testimony of an apostle. God 
 has commanded true believers to grow in grace, and 
 has furnished them w^ith the means; and can we sup- 
 pose that these means will prove abortive, though at 
 the same time, he has promised to give them his Spirit 
 to abide in them — and to work in them to will and to 
 do of his own good pleasure? 
 
 It is a doctrine of the Bible that evil men and se- 
 ducers wax worse and worse; — their con upt principles 
 they manifest in their lives, and the longer they live, 
 the more palpable is this manifestation. Is it not 
 agreeable to the analogy of providence that good men 
 should evince their principles, and grow wiser and 
 better, by the advantages they possess or the means 
 they enjoy? There is certainly the more reason to 
 expect this, when we are assured that the gospel and 
 its privileges exert a transforming influence upon the 
 hearts of believers. For, says Paul, " V/e all with 
 open face, beholding as in a glass, the glory of the 
 Lord, are changed into the same image, from glory to 
 glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord." The same 
 progressive character is ascribed to the believer in 
 terms equally explicit by another apostle, while the 
 means of this improvement are no less unequivocally 
 declared— "To whom coming as unto a living stone, 
 disallowed indeed of men, but chosen of God and 
 precious, ye also as lively stones, are built up a spirit- 
 ual house, an holy priesthood, to offer up spiritual 
 sacrifices, acceptable to God by Jesus Christ." 
 
PROGRESSIVE COURSE OF THE CHRISTIAN. 175 
 
 We could easily add to this testimony; but enough 
 has been said to show you that it is one essential and 
 distinguishing trait in the character of the righteous to 
 make progress in religion. They do not merely hold 
 on their way, and endure to the end, but they make 
 advances in the divine life. They flourish like the 
 palm tree, and grow like the cedar of Lebanon. 
 
 Yet certain and demonstrable as this truth is from 
 the Bible, it is not without its objections. It may be 
 said that it is no uncommon occurrence among those 
 who profess religion, that the zeal which they display 
 in the commencement of their course, after a little 
 while, subsides; and though they do not cease their 
 attendance on religious duties, yet they never appear 
 to recover their former life and vigour. May we not 
 suppose that they have lost their first love, without sup- 
 posing that they were insincere, — and that they may 
 continue in this state of backsliding, without giving in 
 to the opinion, that the love of God was never shed 
 abroad in their hearts? 
 
 That such facts do occur, and occur with lamentable 
 frequency, there is no question. But they are always 
 to be accounted for in one of three w^ays; — either that 
 the persons in this state of decline never had any reli- 
 gion, but have merely compassed themselves about with 
 sparks of their own kindling, and therefore have not 
 been able to keep the fire burning amidst the rude 
 storms of the present life; or they have fallen into a 
 temporary decay, from which eternal mercy, according 
 to its own promise, will yet recover them; or else much 
 of their former zeal was owing to a mixture with human 
 
176 PROGRESSIVE COURSE OF THE CHRISTIAN. 
 
 passions, which gave them the appearance of much 
 more religion than they really possessed. The latter is 
 a case by no means uncommon in the Christian world. 
 A man suddenly brought out of darkness into God's 
 marvellous light, will be likely to be much affected by 
 the mere novelty of his views; — and if he possess a 
 w^arm imagination, and is not careful to discriminate 
 his motives, nothing is more probable than that his zeal 
 will burn high, while the selfish passions are the chief 
 instruments in feeding the flame. When his judgment 
 comes to be better informed, and the novelty of his 
 views a little worn away, much of his ardour may be 
 supposed to abate, without his having less love to God, 
 or less real desire to serve and honour him. We do 
 not regard the fact therefore, that many, and perhaps 
 even the greater number, of those whom charity would 
 induce us to receive as real Christians, show less zeal 
 in the subsequent, than in the early part of their course, 
 as in any degree militating against the doctrine which 
 we have attempted to support, that the righteous, tak- 
 ing the whole of their lives together, really make pro- 
 gress in religion. The flame may not ascend so high, 
 and yet the heat be more intense. There may be less 
 of animal feeling, — less of human passion, and yet more 
 of the Christian temper, more sincere love to God, 
 more benevolence to man, and a greater steadfastness 
 and uniformity in duty. 
 
 Is it not time then, my Christian friends, to pause and 
 enter into a close and serious examination of our own 
 case? Our subject presents a most important and de- 
 cisive test of Christian character. Let us look back 
 
' PROGRESSIVE COURSE OF THE CHRISTIAN. 177 
 
 upon our course, and with all the impartiality of those 
 who are willing and anxious to know the truth, let 
 us ask, have we made progress in the divine life? Is 
 it true of us as of the righteous, that we flourish like 
 the palm tree, and grow like a cedar in Lebanon? Is 
 our path that of the just, which as the shining light, 
 shineth more and more unto the perfect day? I must 
 confess I have many fears, that this is not the case with 
 us all. There is a declension among us which is truly 
 alarming; — a declension not only deep in itself, but 
 which in many cases, has been of such long continuance, 
 as to excite the most fearful apprehensions. Let each 
 professor of religion then put it to his own heart, — 
 Have I made any progress in the great principles and 
 practice of Godliness, since I began my religious course? 
 Have I learned more of God my Creator, Benefactor 
 and Preserver? Have I a clearer apprehension of his 
 glorious attributes, purposes and designs? Does his 
 majesty awe me more, and his fear make a deeper im- 
 pression upon my heart? Do I think more of his 
 cause in the world, and feel a stronger desire that his 
 kingdom may be established in my own heart and in 
 the hearts of others? Does his glory strike my eye 
 with increasing power and delight, and become to my 
 soul a more constant as well as a more distinct motive 
 of action? Have I learned more of Christ my Redeemer, 
 and the only appointed medium of my approach unto 
 God? Do 1 better understand the glories of his person, 
 comprehending both a divine and human nature? And 
 do I see more the reasonableness and necessity of his 
 mediation? What views have I gained of him in his 
 16* 
 
178 PROGRESSIVE COURSE OF THE CHRISTIAN. 
 
 infinitely important offices of Prophet, Priest and 
 King? Is he regarded by me, with increasing interest, 
 as the only hope of my lost soul? Does his blood 
 appear increasingly precious, as the only and all 
 sufficient sacrifice for sin; and his righteousness as the 
 meritorious ground of a title to life? Do I go to him 
 daily, and go to him with renew^ed confidence, as the 
 medium of forgiveness, and the author of strength ? Can 
 I say that he is more and more precious to me in his 
 character, offices and w^ork, that I feel the constraints 
 of his love more, and that I desire with greater sincerity 
 and ardour to be devoted to his cause, and thus live to 
 Him who died for me? 
 
 Do I love the w^ord of God more, and peruse it with 
 increasing diligence and satisfaction? Do I make it 
 the man of my counsel, and regard its dictates as para- 
 mount to every other law? Have its precious truths 
 a transforming influence upon, my heart? And w^hile 
 I advance in knowledge, do I advance also, in the love 
 and practice of the truth? Do I love to pray more, 
 and if I do not increase in the gift, do 1 at least in- 
 crease in the spirit of prayer? Is my daily cry more 
 humble, more ardent, more believing, more disinterested 
 embracing the wants of others as well as my own? 
 Do I feel a deeper regard for God's people, compas- 
 sionate their infirmities more, and with greater con- 
 stancy remember them before the throne of our common 
 Lord? And is my heart touched with increasing ten- 
 derness for sinners w^ho live in impenitence, and lie 
 under the awful sentence of God's broken law? 
 Qr do I care less and less what is to become of their 
 
PROGRESSIVE COURSE OF THE CHRISTIAN. 179 
 
 never dying souls, provided they do not disturb my 
 present tranquillity? 
 
 In what point of view do I regard sin? Is it more 
 and more a terror to me? Have I a growing sense of 
 its awful turpitude, as a breach of God's law? Do I 
 groan more and more under its remaining power, and, 
 like the holy Apostle, cry with increasing earnestness, 
 to be delivered? And does the work of mortifying sin 
 go on within me? Do I find that any sinful appetite 
 or passion is losing strength, while the opposite virtue 
 or grace is manifestly gaining the ascendency? Am I 
 more patient under afflictions, more meek under in- 
 juries, more self-denied when my worldly interests are 
 threatened, or any of my worldly desires crossed? 
 Have I become more kind, more benignant, more 
 charitable? In a word, have I got at a greater re- 
 move from all the selfish passions, while, at the same 
 time, I am more spiritual, more heavenly, living with 
 my hope fixed on God, and my expectations on his 
 promised rest? Then I am a Christian, — certainly I 
 I am a Christian, whose lineaments I find in the Bible. 
 I am a righteous man who flourishes like the palm- 
 tree, and grows like a cedar in Lebanon. 
 
 But what if, upon this examination, I find it other- 
 wise? What if my conscience brings in a different 
 verdict, and tells me I have made no such progress in 
 the divine life; that, though I have been years in the 
 school of Christ among his professed disciples, yet I 
 have not perceptibly advanced in knowledge or in 
 grace; or if I have gained in a speculative acquaint- 
 ance with divine truth, I have made no such proficiency 
 
180 PROGRESSIVE COURSE OF THE CHRISTIAN. 
 
 in a heavenly temper; — that I am not more like Christ 
 in my own eyes, nor in the eyes of my brethren, than 
 I was at the commencement of my course? Nay, what 
 if my own heart joins with all around in testifying 
 that I have manifestly lost much of what appeared 
 hopeful at the beginning, and that I have slidden 
 back with perpetual backsliding? Alas! what dread- 
 ful proof is here of my insincerity; and w^hat rea- 
 son have I to tremble in view of that judgment which 
 is approaching! Shall we venture forward, my 
 brethren, under such circumstances, and hug our delu- 
 sions till we die? Or shall we make a solemn pause, 
 and determine that, unless we can find we are Chris- 
 tians indeed — Christians that grow in grace, we w^ill 
 abandon our hopes, as having in them the elements 
 of self-deception and eternal ruin? 
 
SERMON X. 
 
 CONFIDENCE IN GOD PRODUCTIVE OF PEACE. 
 
 ISAIAH, XXVI., 3. 
 
 Thou ivilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on 
 thee. 
 
 The heart of man is often disquieted in his journey 
 through this world. From causes infinitely various, 
 his comforts and his hopes forsake him, and he finds 
 the need of other support than can be derived from any 
 resources of his own. Often he feels the need of 
 friends, who will enter into his sufferings, and extend 
 the balm of sympathy to his wounded spirit. 
 
 But there are seasons when his sorrows lie too deep 
 to be reached by human power. He has griefs which 
 cannot be imparted, or if imparted, can in no degree be 
 lightened or removed. Then it is that his own weak- 
 ness is felt, and the weakness of those who surround 
 him; then it is that he is willing to hear something of 
 God, the everlasting God who fainteth not, neither is 
 weary and who has styled himself a present help in 
 every time of trouble; then it is that he rejoices to be- 
 lieve that the same Almighty Power which stilleth the 
 noise of the seas, stilleth also the troubled mind, and 
 gives a peace which nothing on earth can destroy. 
 
182 
 
 CONFIDENCE IN GOD PRODUCTIVE OF PEACE. 
 
 If there be any in this assembly whose experience 
 accords with this statement, they will listen with some 
 degree of interest to the words of the prophet which 
 I have just read, in which he declares, under the au- 
 thority of inspiration, that God will keep in perfect 
 peace those whose minds are stayed on him. The 
 prophet had been favoured with extensive views of 
 God's power and justice — nay, of His truth and mercy, 
 in the judgments He had executed upon the wicked, 
 and in the salvation He had wrought for the righteous. 
 Enlightened by the Divine Spirit, he could not only sur- 
 vey the wonderful works which God had already per- 
 formed in the earth, but look forward to those which 
 were still more wonderful, and which the divine faith- 
 fulness had pledged itself to accomplish. He could 
 see the time when Moab, long an inveterate enemy 
 of God's people, " Should be trodden down as the 
 straw is trodden down for the dung-hill; when his fort- 
 ress and high towers should be brought down and laid 
 even with the dust; and when the branch of all the 
 terrible ones should be brought low." He could see 
 the delightful period when God should destroy, by his 
 own Almighty hand, the face of the covering cast over 
 all the people, and bring the Gentile nations to the 
 knowledge and acknowledgment of the truth. Then 
 he tells us " A time will have come, when death shall 
 be swallowed up in victory, and God shall wipe away 
 tears from off all faces, and take away the rebuke of 
 his people from off all the earth; then shall this song 
 be sung in the land of Judah, We have a strong city; 
 salvation will God appoint for walls and bulwarks; 
 
CONFIDENCE IN GOD PRODUCTIVE OF PEACE. 183 
 
 open ye your gates, that the righteous nation which 
 keepeth the truth, may enter in." And to give a still 
 higher idea of the safety and happiness of God's peo- 
 ple, at that period, as well as to minister present hope 
 and consolation to every disquieted heart, he adds as 
 in the words of our text, " Thou wilt keep him in per- 
 fect peace whose mind is stayed on thee." 
 
 In discoursing farther from these words, I propose to 
 direct your attention to two thino^s: 
 
 I. To the duty of staying the mind on God: 
 
 II. To the privilege connected with this duty. " Thou 
 wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed 
 on thee." 
 
 I. To the duty of staying the mind on God. 
 
 I hardly need remark that this expression is nearly 
 equivalent to that of " trusting in God," " casting 
 our care upon him," and " looking to him" for what- 
 ever is needful in time or eternity. This idea is at- 
 tached to the term in the tenth chapter of this prophecy, 
 where it is said, " that the remnant of Israel, and such 
 as are escaped from the house of Jacob, shall no more 
 stay upon him that smote them, (that is upon the As- 
 syrian,) but they shall stay upon the Lord, the Holy 
 One of Israel in truth." The prophet uses the expres- 
 sion in the same sense, when he reproves the children 
 of Israel for going down into Egypt for help, and 
 staying on horses and trusting in chariots, and w^hen 
 he directs — " If there be any among you who feareth 
 the Lord and walketh in darkness and seeth no licrht, 
 let him trust in the name of the Lord and stay himself 
 
184 CONFIDENCE IN GOD PRODUCTIVE OF PEACE. 
 
 upon liis God." But to enter a little more into the im- 
 port of this expression, 
 
 I remark, in the first place, That he who stays him- 
 self upon God, has a deep and affecting sense of his 
 own insufficiency. He clearly perceives that he has no 
 power, independent of God; — that he can neither pro- 
 vide for his wants, nor protect himself against his fears, 
 without the agency of Divine Providence. In particu- 
 lar it may be said, that he has no confidence in his own 
 wisdom and fore-sight, as if he were able to penetrate 
 the dark folds of futurity, and to find out for himself a 
 secure path, amidst the ever-varying scenes in which 
 he is called to mingle. He feels, in this respect, all the 
 humility and dependance of a little child, who is 
 willing and anxious to be led. He goes to God, there- 
 fore, continually, and seeks counsel from Him. He 
 has no confidence in his own virtue, as though he were 
 able to perform his duty, or to stand the shock of 
 temptation, without strength derived from on high. 
 He knows well, " that in himself, that is, in his flesh 
 there dwelleth no good" — or to use another expression 
 of the great Apostle of the Gentiles, that " he is not 
 sufficient of himself to think any thing as of himself, 
 but that all his sufficiency is of God," who must " work 
 in him, both to will and to do of his own good pleasure." 
 
 He is equally convinced of his own insufficiency to 
 sustain himself in the day of calamity and rebuke,, or 
 to bear up under the common ills of life, if not sup- 
 ported by a hand which is almighty. He ceases, there- 
 fore, all proud reliance upon himself. Nor is he ashamed 
 
CONFIDENCE IN GOD PRODUCTIVE OF PEACE. 185 
 
 lo acknowledge that the very feeblest of his enemies 
 has power sufficient to destroy him, if unprotected by 
 Him, whose eye is over all, and w^hose hand directs and 
 governs all. In this view of his absolute dependance, 
 he is w-eaned from his owm understanding and his own 
 strength; and is thus far prepared to lean upon the 
 Lord. But we remark. 
 
 In the next place, that as he has a deep conviction 
 of his own weakness, so also he has a lively sense of 
 the weakness and insufficiency of all other creatures. 
 He perceives that they are as little capable of adminis- 
 tering to his wants and of becoming a full and satisfy- 
 ing portion, as he himself is. This is absolutely 
 necessary to his staying himself upon the Lord. The 
 streams must dry up before he w^ill go to the fountain: — 
 the creature must vanish in his sight, before he will 
 repair unto God. God is indeed a strong rock, on 
 which men may constantly repose; an everlasting tower 
 in w^hich they may hide; but they will never fly unto 
 Him, until all other refuges have failed. Naturally 
 they love and serve the creature, more than the Creator, 
 who is God over all, blessed forever; and they w^ill seek 
 the creature, and stay themselves upon it, until its 
 vanity is made fully to appear. There never was and 
 there never w^ill be a soul brought to stay itself upon 
 the Lord, until it has attained a deep and pow^erful con- 
 viction of its own insufficiency, and the insufficiency of 
 every other creature, fully to meet its desires and to 
 make it truly and substantially happy. 
 
 Nor is this all ; for to a conviction of the insufficiency 
 of the creature, you must add, in the third place, a just 
 17 
 
186 CONFIDENCE IN GOD PRODUCTIVE OF PEACE. 
 
 and lively apprehension of the infinite excellency and 
 glory of the Creator, — or, which amounts to the same 
 thing, a firm and heart felt persuasion of the being and 
 perfections of God. When God's attributes are not dis- 
 tinctly apprehended^ there is no foundation laid for 
 staying ourselves upon him. He must appear to be 
 the rock, and his work perfect, before we can make 
 him the object of our confidence. " They that know 
 thy name," says the Psalmist, " will put their trust in 
 thee." But they that do not know God's name, and 
 who do not see Him to be what He is, — a Being of in- 
 finite wisdom, power, holiness, truth and mercy, will not 
 put their trust in Him; and the reason is that they see 
 no just reason for it. 
 
 But let us not suppose that a mere speculative 
 knowledge of God will suffice. God must be seen in 
 his spiritual excellence and glory, — in other words, he 
 must be loved, before we can make him the object of 
 our trust. The devils know Him speculatively, but they 
 do not trust in Him, because they do not love. The 
 same is the case with thousands of wicked men under 
 the light of the gospel. They are not speculatively 
 ignorant of God's attributes but being destitute of any 
 spiritual discernment of his moral excellence, they do 
 not stay themselves upon Him. Their aversion begets 
 jealousy, and jealousy lear, and fear is but another 
 name for distrust. They and they only can stay them- 
 selves upon the Lord, who have a full and unwavering 
 conviction of his being and attributes, and who feel a 
 cordial approbation of his character. 
 
 There is yet another important principle involved 
 
CONFIDENCE IN GOD PRODUCTIVE OF PEACE. 187 
 
 in this duty, viz: a knowledge of God in Christ. It 
 is only in and through the Lord Jesus, that a holy and 
 just God can dispense favour to sinners. If I know 
 nothing therefore of this medium of mercy, how can I 
 stay myself upon the Lord, as the ground of my 
 security or happiness? He may be infinitely glorious 
 in Himself, and yet not show kindness to me; he may 
 rule in infinite wisdom and love, and yet make me the 
 object of his increasing and dreadful abhorence. Nor 
 without a knovrledge of a Saviour and the infinitely 
 precious promises that are founded upon him, can I see 
 how God can maintain the honour of his government, 
 without punishing every transgression and disobedience 
 with a just recompense of reward. What then shall I 
 do? Whither shall I look for refuge? Certainly not 
 to God, who is infinitely holy, and whom I have most 
 grievously offended, unless He shall vouchsafe to tell 
 me that he is merciful, and upon my return to Him, 
 will put away my transgressions, and become my sure 
 and everlasting friend. This He has nowhere done, 
 but in the gospel of his Son; nor from any other 
 source can I learn that sin is pardonable, or that God 
 is willing to become my refuge. 
 
 To stay myself upon Him, therefore, must suppose 
 that I am acquainted with the revelation of his mercy 
 in Christ, and that I distinctly recognise those great 
 and precious promises which are made in him, and 
 which in him are yea and amen to the glory of God 
 the Father. 
 
 Let me add also to stay ourselves upon the Lord, 
 implies not merely that we confide in Him, but that we 
 
188 CONFIDENCE IN GOD PRODUCTIVE OF PEACE. 
 
 have a strong and unshaken confidence. There may 
 be a partial and wavering trust, occasioned by the 
 warmth and buoyancy of natural feeling, or by some 
 remarkable interposition of Providence in our favour, 
 when very little of the divine character is seen, and 
 very little of faith is in exercise. But those who 
 stay themselves upon God, have a fixedness of heart 
 and steadfastness of reliance, which show that they have 
 enlarged conceptions of what God is, and what He has 
 promised to do for his people. They feel themselves 
 surrounded by One, whose power is unlimited, and 
 whose faithfulness cannot fail; and they find it as 
 natural and easy to cast themselves upon his care, as 
 for a child to recline upon his father's bosom, or for the 
 weary traveller to sit down to rest. God appears to 
 them a strong rock, a high tower of defence, a full 
 and never failing portion of the soul. Hence they lean 
 upon Him with a firm and steady reliance, which brings 
 peace and quietness to their minds. 
 
 But how, it may be asked, does this confidence in 
 God make itself known? Do they who possess it grow 
 negligent and presumptuous in proportion as their reli- 
 ance upon God is increased? Far otherwise — the more 
 they stay themselves upon Him, the more solicitous do 
 they become to walk worthy of the Lord, unto all 
 pleasing; being found in the active discharge of those 
 duties, which are assigned to them in the places and 
 relations which they hold. One great object they have 
 in going to God and putting their trust in Him, is that 
 they may derive strength to do his will and approve 
 themselves to his holy and all-searching eye. There 
 
CONFIDENCE IN GOD PRODUCTIVE OF PEACE. 189 
 
 can be no confidence where there is no love, — and surely 
 there can be no love, where there is not a dutiful regard 
 to God's will. Their confidence and obedience will 
 alvays keep pace with each other. 
 
 They show their reliance upon God, further, by 
 cheerfully submitting to his hand under the dark and 
 trying dispensations of his providence. God often 
 has his path in the great deep, where his footsteps can- 
 not be traced. The wheels of his government are 
 high and dreadful; and to the eyes of mortals, so com- 
 plicated in their movements, that no human wisdom 
 can penetrate their design. But this is no ground of 
 discouragement to those that stay themselves upon the 
 Lord. They never expected that the counsels of in- 
 finite wisdom could be measured by the short line of 
 their understanding. It is enough for them to know 
 that God is upon the throne; that he cannot possibly 
 err in judgment, or fail to accomplish those infinitely 
 important objects, which, in the measures of his govern- 
 ment, he proposes, and which in their results embrace 
 the highest good of creation, and the glory of his own 
 great name. Let God envelope himself in clouds and 
 darkness if he please, is the language of their hearts, 
 so long as we are assured, that all events are in his 
 hands, and that he rules in infinite wisdom, and love. 
 Dark and tumultuous as the present scene now is, we 
 have nothing to fear. He rides in the whirlwind, and 
 directs the storm. The time must come, when order 
 shall spring out of confusion, and light out of darkness, 
 till confusion and darkness shall be no more. 
 
 But they trust in God, not only under dispensations 
 17* 
 
190 CONFIDENCE IN GOD PRODUCTIVE OF PEACE. 
 
 which are dark and incomprehensible, but under those 
 also which are peculiarly painful and calamitous. 
 Sometimes it pleases God severely to try them by his 
 chastening rod ; and they are in trouble, not so much 
 because they cannot comprehend the dispensations of his 
 providence, as because these dispensations contradict 
 their strongest earthly wishes and desires. But here 
 they learn to renounce their own will and quietly and 
 patiently submit to his. Such views have they of the 
 wisdom and equity of God's government — such assu- 
 rance of the fulness, kindness and stability of his pro- 
 mises, that they find no heart to complain, however 
 repeated and heavy may be their trials. In the lan- 
 guage of Job, they can say " Though he slay me, yet 
 will I trust in him." Or in that of David, " Surely I 
 have behaved and quieted myself as a child that is 
 weaned of his mother: my soul is even as a weaned 
 child." 
 
 Can it be strange that such a temper should bring 
 peace with it, even a peace which passeth all under- 
 standing? It is the very spirit of the gospel, — a strong 
 and decisive characteristic of true love to God. But 
 this leads us to consider in the 
 
 II. Second place, the privilege of those who thus 
 stay themselves upon the Lord. God will keep them 
 in perfect peace. But what is this peace? 
 
 Shall I say it is a peace which stands opposed to all 
 those corroding cares which so often disturb the minds 
 of men in relation to their present wants; and which 
 leads them to cry, " What shall we eat, and what shall 
 we drink, and wherewithal shall we be clothed?" This 
 
CONFIDENCE IN GOD PRODUCTIVE OF PEACE. 191 
 
 is the perpetual anxiety of multitudes, and even of 
 those who are possessed of a competent share of the 
 good things of this life. Some are troubled because 
 they are poor and have nothing laid up in store for a 
 future day; and others because, though possessed of 
 abundance, they have no certainty that this abundance 
 will continue. They perceive a thousand causes at 
 work, which may possibly dispossess them of their pre- 
 sent means, or put it out of their power to command 
 them. Thus an uneasiness is engendered which makes 
 their days drag heavily, and turns the current of life 
 into a perturbed stream. But the peace of which we 
 speak stands opposed to all this. It supposes such con- 
 fidence in the power, wisdom and goodness of God, and 
 especially in those great and precious promises in which 
 God has bound himself to watch over his people, and 
 provide for their wants, as to lay these anxious and 
 devouring cares to sleep. God's providence is regarded 
 as an ample resource, and the heart sweetly reposes 
 upon his infinitely gracious and powerful arm. 
 
 Again: This peace stands opposed to all those in- 
 ward tumults which arise from discordant and malignant 
 passions. Where these are indulged, they make the 
 soul like the troubled sea, which cannot rest, whose 
 waters cast up mire and dirt. But they who stay them- 
 selves upon God, are in a measure conformed to his 
 will; they have crucified the flesh with its affections 
 and lusts ; and consequently experience in their own 
 bosoms the truth of that declaration — that " the work of 
 righteousness is peace, and the eflfect of righteous- 
 ness, quietness and assurance forever." They are not 
 
192 CONFIDENCE IN GOD PRODUCTIVE OF PEACE. 
 
 indeed sinlessly perfect, and therefore something like a 
 warfare must be going on between the old man and the 
 new; still " this is their rejoicing, even the testimony 
 of their conscience, that in simplicity and godly sin- 
 cerity, they have their conversation in the w^orld, not 
 by fleshly wisdom, but by the grace of God." Having 
 sincerely aimed to do the divine w^ill, and looking to 
 the blood of Christ for the pardon of whatever is amiss, 
 they have confidence towards God, and rejoice in the 
 hope of eternal life. Hence comes a sweet and heav- 
 enly tranquility, known only to those whose souls are 
 sanctified by the Divine Spirit, and sprinkled by the 
 peace-speakirig blood of the Lamb. The tormenting 
 and guilty passions are subdued and the forebodings of 
 an accusing conscience taken away. 
 
 But finally: the peace which God promises to those 
 whose minds are stayed upon him, comprehends in it a 
 deliverance not merely from the specific evils already 
 named, but from all those endless disquietudes, fears and 
 disgusts w^hich spring up in the heart of man in this 
 world; while it spreads the sincerest satisfaction and 
 the most sublime and heavenly tranquility through all 
 the powers of the soul. Do you ask how this is accom- 
 plished? I answer in two ways; — by finding in God 
 a complete security against every possible evil, and a 
 provision for all that the soul needs in this world or that 
 which is to come. 
 
 They who stay themselves upon God may be assured 
 that they have nothing to fear. God has undertaken 
 to be their Almighty Guardian: his eternal wisdom, 
 power and goodness stand pledged that nothing shall 
 
CONFIDENCE IN GOD PRODUCTIVE OF PEACE. 193 
 
 befal them which shall not eventually work for their 
 good. And they have an assurance no less strong, that 
 he will withhold nothing which is needful to their 
 highest felicity. In short, they behold in God an all 
 sufficient portion; — enough to satisfy the most expanded 
 desires of their souls. What then can disturb them? 
 Why should not their peace be unshaken and entire, — 
 in other words, a perfect peace? Such it is, and such 
 it will continue to be, so long as their confidence in God 
 is firm and unwavering. No matter what changes may 
 occur — they may boldly say with the church, in the 
 forty-sixth Psalm, " God is our refuge and strength, a 
 very present help in trouble; therefore will not we fear 
 though the earth be removed, and though the moun- 
 tains be carried into the midst of the sea: though the 
 w^aters thereof roar, and the mountains shake with the 
 swellings thereof The Lord of Hosts is with us, the 
 God of Jacob is our refuge." 
 
 What remains is a brief application of the subject. 
 Who can help remarking in the 
 
 First place: How thankful we ought to be that God 
 has opened a way for our happiness, which is equally 
 accessible to all men, where the gospel comes. Whether 
 rich or poor; honorable or despised; learned or igno- 
 rant; bond or free — whatever may be our external cir- 
 cumstances, there is nothing to prevent our being 
 truly and substantially happy, if we will but return to 
 the Father of Mercies, and place our confidence exclu- 
 sively in Him. In every condition God is able to come 
 near to us, and pour the light of his glory into our 
 souls; He can so fill us with Himself as to shut out fear 
 
194 CONFIDENCE IN GOD PRODUCTIVE OF PEACE. 
 
 and want and sorrow of every kind, and make us the 
 subjects of a peace which is sweet and sublime, and 
 which passeth all understanding and knowledge. Nay, 
 he has promised to do this, in every case where we 
 abandon all ultimate confidence in the creature and trust 
 in him alone. If we are not happy then, it must be 
 our ow'n fault; for here is a wide and effectual door 
 opened for it, and a door which is equally free and 
 inviting to all. Say not then, O man, that thy lot is 
 hard; that a thousand cares and wants and anxieties 
 press upon thee, and thy life is only a scene of vexa- 
 tion and sorrow. This is reproaching the goodness of 
 thy Creator, and the tender mercies of thy Redeemer. 
 Rather fall at his feet in thankful acknowledgement of 
 his kindness, and receive from his infinite bounty 
 the good which he offers thee. I remark. 
 
 Secondly: How incalculable must be the folly and 
 guilt of those who still keep at a distance from God I 
 What do such persons expect? Do they expect that 
 their experiments will issue differently from those 
 which have been made by others in every preceding 
 generation? When did a human being ever find a true 
 and soul-satisfying peace in the acquisitions and enjoy- 
 ments of the world? Millions have made the trial, 
 and have made it under every possible advantage, and the 
 result has always been the same. With Solomon 
 they have been forced to cry at last, " Vanity of vani- 
 ties, all is vanity and vexation of spirit." If the world 
 could make men happy, why this perpetual disquietude 
 in their own bosoms? Why do they look forward for 
 enjoyment — and not sit down content w^ththe present? 
 
CONFIDENCE IN GOD PRODUCTIVE OF PEACE. 195 
 
 This restlessness, this continual reaching after something 
 ■N^^hich is not yet attained; — this happiness of next week, 
 or next year, is a shrewd indication of the poverty of 
 the world. It proclaims loudly in every ear, if men 
 would but hear it, that they have set out upon a wrong 
 course, — that they are pursuing shadows instead of the 
 substance; and that if ever they design to be happy, 
 they must tread back their steps and take a new direc- 
 tion. Yes, it calls them to abandon the broken cistern, 
 and come away to God the fountain of living waters, 
 where they may drink and thirst no more. 
 
 To Him then let me invite you, one and all, to re- 
 turn. You will never find a peace in your bosoms 
 which deserves the name of peace, till this is done. 
 God has so constituted our minds that nothing but 
 Himself can be to them a satisfying portion. Our souls 
 are immortal, and they thirst for a happiness which is 
 commensurate with their being. They will not, they 
 can not be content with objects which we see every day 
 perishing before our eyes. then let us come unto 
 God, the infinite God, for He is the fountain of Being, 
 and an ocean of blessedness. Let us come with an 
 humble and broken heart, for our past sins and follies, — 
 and with a believing and child like confidence that we 
 may henceforth stay ourselves upon Him, as upon the 
 eternal rock. Let us say to ourselves, in the language 
 of David, " My soul, wait thou only upon God, for my 
 expectation is from him." And especially let me 
 exhort those to do this, who are in any peculiar trouble, 
 whether of body or mind. Does want or poverty- 
 assail you? Go and repose yourselves upon Him, who 
 
196 CONFIDENCE IN GOD PRODUCTIVE OF TEACE. 
 
 opens his hand and supplies the vrants of every living 
 thing. He knows all the fowls of the mountains; and 
 the cattle upon a thousand hills are his. His providence 
 is not only rich and extensive, embracing the interests 
 of all worlds, but in the highest degree minute and 
 special; it extends its regards even to the falling of a 
 sparrow, and to Ihe numbering of the hairs on your head. 
 
 Does your heart bleed under a separation from the 
 dearest earthly friend? Go to Him who will be 
 better to you than father or mother, son or daughter, 
 or any earthly relative. Now that the stream is dried 
 up, you have a new^ call to hasten to God, the fountain, 
 and unbosom yourself to Him. Roll all your cares 
 and burdens upon his arm; — say with David, "The 
 Lord liveth, the Lord liveth and blessed be my Rock." 
 
 Are you grieved with those w^ho have deceived and 
 forsaken you? Go to God, the everlasting God, w^hose 
 friendship is sincere and unchangeable, like Himself. 
 His promise is, " I will never leave thee nor forsake 
 thee." " The mountains shall depart and the hills be 
 removed, but my kindness shall not depart from thee; 
 neither shall the covenant of my peace be removed, 
 saith the Lord, that hath mercy on thee." Those 
 whom he loves, he loves unto the end. Nothing can 
 separate between him and them. " Fear not," saith 
 he, " I am thy shield, thy exceeding great reward." 
 
 Do you find yourself alone and unprotected in the 
 world; subject to a thousand cares and anxieties which 
 you cannot disclose? We invite you to Him, w'ho is 
 the friend of the friendless, and the judge of the father- 
 less, and the widow in his holy habitation. Come and 
 
CONFIDENCE IN GOD PRODUCTIVE OF PEACE. 197 
 
 stay yourself upon Jehovah, for in Him is everlasting 
 strength. He is ever near you, and his Almighty arm 
 shall be round about you. He will quiet those fears 
 which agitate your bosom; he will soften or banish 
 your cares, and fill you with that blessed composure 
 of mind, which results from a confidence in his wis- 
 dom and love. 
 
 Do enemies, powerful and malignant, lie in wait for 
 you? Do they watch for your halting, and with the 
 greediness of lions, stand ready to devour you? Go 
 to Him who will hide you in the secret of his pavilion, 
 from the strife of tongues, and from the violence of 
 those who would injure you. He that toucheth you, 
 toucheth the apple of mine eye, says this Almighty 
 friend; and as soon could Omniscience be surprised, 
 and eternal power defeated, as one hair of your head 
 injured while you repose your confidence in him. 
 
 Are you all your life time subject to bondage through 
 fear of death? This is the unhappy case of multitudes. 
 But I exhort you to go to Him who can turn the sha- 
 dows of death into the light of the morning, — to Him 
 who is the resurrection and the life, and who has gra- 
 ciously promised that whosoever believeth in Him shall 
 never die; and though he were dead, yet shall he 
 live. 
 
 Do you feel unhappy or restless from any cause? 
 (and many there are who thus feel without being able 
 to trace their wretchedness to any particular source.) 
 Go to God, the fountain of all felicity. He, and He 
 alone, can calm your disquietudes, and wipe away 
 your tears. Hear the melting language which he ad- 
 18 
 
198 CONFIDENCE IN GOD PRODUCTIVE OF PEACE. 
 
 dresses to you, and to all who resemble you. "Ho 
 every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters: and 
 he that hath no money; come ye buy and eat, yea 
 come, buy wine and milk, without money and without 
 price. Wherefore do ye spend money for that which 
 is not bread? and your labour, for that which satisfieth 
 not? Hearken diligently unto me, and eat ye that 
 which is good, and let your soul delight itself in fat- 
 ness. Incline your ear and come unto me and hear, 
 and your soul shall live; and I w^ill make an everlast- 
 ing covenant with you, even the sure mercies of 
 David." 
 
SERMON XI. 
 
 THE HE.IRT OF MAN PROVED BY THE PROVI- 
 DENCE OF GOD. 
 
 DEUTERONOMY VHI., 2. 
 
 " And tJwu shall remember all the ivay which the Lord thy God 
 led thee, these forty years, to humble thee, and to prove thee, 
 to know what was in thine heart, whether thou wouldst keep his 
 commandments or noJ^ 
 
 Every thing around us tells that we are in a pro- 
 bationary state. The mixture of good and evil which 
 attends us, the inequalities of Divine Providence to- 
 wards the righteous and the wicked, the temptations 
 which assail us and the numerous succours offered to 
 our aid, proclaim, with united voice, that this world is 
 not itself the world of retribution, but only preparatory 
 to it. No man can seriously reflect upon the circum- 
 stances of his present existence, without perceiving 
 that he is borne along to some other and higher destiny. 
 The events of each day exert upon him a moral in- 
 fluence; and whether he attends to the fact or not, he 
 is growing better, or growing worse, by every change 
 through which he passes. In each fleeting moment 
 something is done or omitted to be done, for which 
 
200 THE HEART OF MEN PROVED 
 
 he is responsible; — something which dev elopes his 
 character and fixes his habits, while the course of 
 Providence towards him is such as to settle the 
 great question, whether he will walk in the paths 
 of virtue or not. This we take to be the voice of 
 reason, when properly consulted on the subject of our 
 present existence, circumstances and relations. Most 
 certainly it is the voice of God's word. We no sooner 
 open the sacred page, than we see written with a sun- 
 beam the solemn fact that this world is but a scene of 
 preparation for eternity, and that all the events of it 
 are desigrned in Providence to have an influence on our 
 character, and to stand connected with our immortal 
 destiny. 
 
 What other sentiment do you gather from the words 
 which I have just read to you, in \\ hich Closes requires 
 the Israelites, just come to the borders of the promised 
 land, to " remember all the way which the Lord their 
 God had led them in the wilderness, for the space of 
 forty years;" — a way which had been full of wonders, — 
 full of suffering, — full of mercy; a way, therefore, 
 which was at once adapted and designed to " prove 
 them, to know what was in their hearts, whether they 
 would keep the commandments of God or not." 
 
 God's dealings towards them indeed had been very 
 peculiar, and there was a necessity for that peculiarity; — 
 but the moral design was the same which he has had 
 towards other nations and other individuals in his deal- 
 ings with them, merely to prove them, to show what 
 was in their hearts, and whether they would obey him 
 or not. As to ourselves, who live under the light of 
 
EY THI :? Z I OF GOD. 201 
 
 li.^ _ jbt that God has the 
 
 Si - ooise which He is 
 
 :i^ .._ :r trial for eternity, 
 
 a::: -^ W . ^ : ^ppenedtothe 
 
 I . us to Tind^- 
 
 s and was 
 
 '^' : : 3n, upon 
 
 ~i: r^e ends oi me wc We are as 
 
 -'- the moral g ij las they; 
 
 c raws after it, :'ir being 
 
 under a coarse of moral dis : din 
 
 the formation of a characte vLl nt us lor the 
 
 endless retribotions of the 1 - :.d. 
 
 The single object I hare in Tiew, on this occasicMi, 
 is to point ont some of the means fay which it pleases 
 God to proTe or try ns» and by which oar characters 
 win be formed, and oar final state analtefably decided. 
 I. ^s OS fay his word. His wmd is, in an 
 
 en: ? ^oochstone of the heart 
 
 by the doctrines it teachss: There 
 5 which more certainly determines 
 •ts, than the doctrines of the 
 i: . :e unholy, and of coarse nn- 
 
 hombled, we diall find little in these doctrines to delight 
 ns; and much to displease and mortify us. The views 
 whidi the scriptures give as of the character c£ Grod, 
 as a Beii^ of onspotted holioess, who caimot look on 
 sin but with abhorrence; — the purity and extent of his 
 law; the awfid condenmation threatened for the least 
 Tic^tion of it; and the final issae of his moral gOTem- 
 in exalting some to eTcrlasting felicity and 
 *18 
 
202 TRE HEART OF MEN PROVED 
 
 banishing others to the regions of eternal despair, are 
 all calculated not only to alarm, but to awaken hostility 
 in every unrenewed soul. The carnal mind, which is 
 enmity against God, not subject to his law, neither in- 
 deed can be, never contemplates these truths with satis- 
 faction. The native and entire depravity of the human 
 heart; the sovereignty of God in the calling and salva- 
 tion of sinners; the doctrine of the divinity and the 
 incarnation of the Son of God; — the expiation of sin 
 by his blood, — and the forgiveness of sins and eternal 
 life only through his name, occasion no small dissatis- 
 faction to unrenewed men, and often become fatal ob- 
 stacles to their reception of the scriptures. Whereas 
 all these doctrines, so far as they are understood, are 
 cordially received by every heart sanctified by the 
 divine Spirit. 
 
 God's word is a touchstone of the heart also by the 
 precepts which it inculcates. They are an unwelcome 
 restraint upon the appetites and passions of unholy 
 men. They call for that deadness to the world, — that 
 constant and deep self-denial, — that surrender of all 
 we have to God, — that purity of affection and that ulti- 
 mate regard to the divine glory and the interests of 
 another world, which the unrenewed heart can never 
 think of with pleasure, but which it always considers, 
 when it can be brought to consider at all, as a grievous 
 yoke of bondage, to which it submits with the greatest 
 reluctance. 
 
 We need no other proof of this than what every 
 wicked man will find in his own bosom, and the testi- 
 mony which is constantly given to this point in the 
 
BY THE PROVIDENCE OF GOD. 203 
 
 indifference and contempt which muhitudes show to- 
 wards the commands of their Creator. 
 
 It is far otherwise with those who have been renewed 
 by divine grace, and who are training up for a state of 
 perfect holiness and happiness in a better world. They 
 love the precepts as well as doctrines of God's word: 
 they love them because they are perfectly pure; be- 
 cause they are a transcript of the moral charac- 
 ter of Jehovah. Far be it from their hearts to 
 wish that the law of God was less strict in its re- 
 quirements or less severe in its sanctions. All the 
 change they desire is in themselves: they wish to have 
 their hearts more sound in God's statutes, and are dis- 
 posed to say with the Psalmist, " Then shall I not be 
 ashamed, when I have respect unto all thy command- 
 ments." 
 
 We have a striking illustration of the different effects 
 produced both by the doctrines and precepts of God's 
 word, in the ministry of our Saviour. All that He 
 taught and all that He enjoined operated as a test of 
 the moral dispositions of his hearers. The humble, 
 the penitent, the poor in spirit, the self-denied, received 
 Him. They embraced his doctrines and his precepts 
 with joy; all who were his sheep, heard his voice and 
 followed. But those w^ho were of a different character, 
 did not. The proud, self-righteous Pharisee; the phi- 
 losophising and half infidel Sadducee; all indeed who 
 were lovers of themselves and lovers of pleasure, more 
 than lovers of God, found something which offended 
 them in the precepts and doctrines of the Saviour, and 
 that too notwithstanding all the great and benevolent 
 
204 THE HEART OF MEN PROVED 
 
 works which He performed. Thus it has been in every 
 age. The word of the Lord is not only a tried 
 word, as the Psalmist calls it, but a trying word, 
 which, as a touchstone, tries the hearts of men, and 
 shows what dispositions they possess. 
 
 We remark, again, that the word of God tries men 
 by the very character of the evidence which supports it. 
 
 If it had pleased God, He could have given us the 
 same evidence that the scriptures are his word, as that 
 the sun is the fountain of light, or that He himself is 
 the author of the universe. He could, in every case, 
 have compelled the assent of men, and left no indivi- 
 dual, where the gospel is proclaimed, with any specu- 
 lative doubts as to the divinity of its origin. But He 
 has chosen a different, and for aught we can perceive, 
 a wiser course. He has chosen to place before men 
 evidence on this subject sufficient to convince the hum- 
 ble and candid inquirer; but not such as necessarily 
 to exclude all doubt. The principle by which He is 
 governed in this case, was solemnly affirmed by our 
 Saviour, when he said, "If any will do his will, he 
 shall know of the doctrine which I teach, whether it 
 be of God, or whether I speak of myself" That is to 
 say, if he has an humble and teac hable disposition, 
 ready to know^ and do the will of God, he shall be at 
 no loss to ascertain what that will is. Evidence shall 
 be afforded sufficient to satisfy Imn, but not suffi- 
 cient to remove every degree of prejudice which a 
 disobedient, stubborn and malignant heart can present. 
 
 God intends hereby to make proof of the honesty, 
 the candour and uprightness of men's hearts. But what 
 
BY THE PROVroENCE OF GOD. 205 
 
 proof in this way could there be of any of these virtues, 
 if the evidence which supports the authority of the 
 word was of a kind to compel belief in all cases, — 
 whatever the state of the heart might be? Is it any 
 proof that I have a good and honest heart, not gov- 
 erned by odious prejudices or selfish views, because I 
 believe that a whole is greater than a part, or that a 
 circle is not a square? Here is no trial whatever of 
 the temper of the mind, because the belief will be the 
 same whatever the temper of the mind may be. But 
 the case is widely different in deciding upon a fact, 
 supported by reasonable testimony. Here is room to 
 examine evidence, and to compare the probable with 
 the improbable. Here is an opportunity for candour 
 or for prejudice to operate; to give due weight to the 
 testimony, or to add or deduct from it, as the nature of 
 the prejudice may be. Here the heart is more or less 
 concerned in the decisions which we form, and these 
 decisions will be a proper test of the moral character 
 of our minds. We need not say this is precisely the case 
 in forming our judgment of the truth of the scriptures, 
 and of the doctrines they contain. Evidence enough 
 they bring with them to satisfy the humble and candid 
 inquirer; but not enough to bear down obstinate and 
 wilful prejudice. " He that will do God's wnll, shall 
 know of the doctrine." He that hath an ear, will hear 
 and will understand. But with regard to others, the 
 word of the Lord may prove a burden; a stone of 
 stumbling and a rock of offence; and thus, the very 
 character of the evidence which supports that word, 
 
206 THE HEART OF MEN PROVED 
 
 will operate as a test of the candour and sincerity of 
 those to whom it is made known. 
 
 11. But we observe, secondly, that God will try us 
 by the imperfections of those who profess to embrace 
 his word, and especially those whose business it is to 
 explain and recommend it to the world. Why is it 
 that the professors of religion are not more exemplary; 
 why is it indeed that they are not in a good measure 
 perfect, on the supposition that they are sincere? If 
 they have been called out of darkness into God's mar- 
 vellous light, and partly with a view that they may 
 shine as lights in the world, how comes it to pass that 
 their light does not shine with greater purity and 
 brightness? 
 
 It is not, my dear brethren, because God has not 
 power to sanctify them. It would be as easy for Him 
 to complete their sanctification and make them perfectly 
 holy in this world, as to do it in the world which is to 
 come. But He has important reasons for not doing it. 
 
 He leaves them for a time to struggle with the re- 
 mains of an unsanctified principle, to teach them more 
 effectually the dreadful nature of sin, and their depend- 
 ence on his power and grace to deliver them from it; 
 and thus at last to heighten their gratitude for so great 
 a mercy. He leaves them also in this state of imper- 
 fection, that they may exercise the candour and charity 
 of the world, and the charity of one another. The 
 mixed character which they possess, — the light and 
 shade, discoverable in their actions, form a test of our 
 own hearts wonderfully strong and decisive. 
 
BY THE PROVIDENCE OF GOD. 207 
 
 If we are not their friends and the friends of the 
 cause which they espouse, it will be seen. We shall 
 eagerly catch at their imperfections, and employ them 
 as the means of throwing an odium upon their charac- 
 ter and of secretly or openly undermining the cause in 
 which they have embarked. On the other hand, if we 
 are their friends or the friends of that religion which 
 they profess, it will be natural to us to cast the mantle 
 of charity over their infirmities; to be humbled and 
 grieved and not to rejoice at their fall. 
 
 I cannot dwell upon this article; but among all the 
 various tests held up to us in the providence of God, 
 there is scarcely one which will more certainly unfold 
 the heart and show to us w^hether we are on the Lord's 
 side or not. 
 
 But if these observations w^ill hold true with respect 
 to the professors of religion generally, they will be 
 found not less true nor less applicable to the ministers 
 of religion in particular. Such men are set for the 
 defence of the gospel, and for the falling and rising 
 again of many in Israel. They are of course watched 
 with a jealous eye, and their imperfections, if strongly 
 and distinctly marked, cannot but exert an unfavourable 
 influence upon the cause of Christ. Why then, has 
 not God given them more grace, that they may exhibit 
 a more blameless and edifying example among the 
 people of their charge, w^hether believers or unbelievers? 
 Why indeed has he ever suffered them to fall into sins 
 reproachful to his cause, or permitted them even to be 
 suspected of such sins? Surely it is that he may hum- 
 
208 THE HEART OF MEN PROVED 
 
 ble them, both individually and collectively. It is that 
 he may prove the candour and the charity both of the 
 church and the world. These remarks are not intended 
 as an apology for the sins and infirmities of any class 
 of men ; but merely to exhibit a fact in which we are 
 all interested, — that God will prove us by the imper- 
 fections and follies of those who profess to embrace his 
 word. He could easily have ordered it otherwise; and 
 in our zeal for his cause, we may sometimes be tempted 
 to wish it had been otherwise. But we should remem- 
 ber that He has purposely permitted this shade to be 
 cast over the interests of religion, not to disparage reli- 
 gion, but to lead us to distinguish between its true and 
 false professors, and between religion itself and profes- 
 sors of any description. He has suffered this state 
 of things to exist, to exercise our charity and can- 
 dour, and to stir us up to honest and persevering in- 
 quiry. 
 
 For the same reason too, has He permitted a diversity 
 of sentiment among the friends of his kingdom. Not 
 only have good men honestly differed among themselves 
 about points unessential in the scheme of Christianity, 
 but men of corrupt minds have risen up, who have 
 laboured with incredible zeal and ingenuity to obscure 
 the light of divine truth and to draw away disciples 
 after them. There were false prophets anciently among 
 the Jews, as there were false prophets and false teachers 
 among the early Christians; and the design of both, 
 was to prove men, whether they would wholly follow 
 the Lord or not. Sufficient helps were afforded to dis- 
 
BY THE PROVIDENCE OF GOD. 209 
 
 tinguish truth from error, and if men did not distinguish, 
 the fault was their own, and they suffered justly the 
 consequences of delusion. Thus it is still. 
 
 III. But we hasten to observe, in the third place, 
 that God proves us by the various dispensations of his 
 providence. Eveiy event, whether prosperous or ca- 
 lamitous, does something in unfolding the heart, and 
 determining the character. Even the most trifling 
 occurrence sometimes seems to have the greatest influ- 
 ence. Our lives are truly said to be made up of little 
 things; and it is in these little things, where there is 
 the least guard upon our sentiments and conduct, that 
 our dispositions are most decisively displayed. 
 
 It would not be easy to enumerate all the ways in 
 which God proves us by his kindness. Does He be- 
 stow upon us firm and continued health ? If our hearts 
 are not right with Hira, we are in danger not only of 
 ingratitude for this meicy, but of forgetting in a sur- 
 prising manner our dependance on God, and calculating 
 with an unbecoming confidence on the events of to- 
 morrow. Does He prosper us in our worldly interests, 
 making wealth to flow in upon us like the tide, — or 
 give us places of honour and distinction among our 
 fellow^ men? Ah! how easily is the heart lifted up; 
 and how ready to yield to the indulgence of appetite; 
 and how unwilling to be controlled by the authority of 
 reason and religion! Does God surround us with 
 endeared relatives and friends and cause us to live in a 
 thousand hearts; and a thousand to live in ours? Who 
 does not see that this is a place of temptation and trial, 
 and that we are in the utmost danger of fastening our 
 19 
 
210 THE HEART OF MEN PROVED 
 
 affections too intensely on those to whom we are so 
 tenderly united, and giving them that ascendancy in 
 our hearts, which is due to God alone? 
 
 But the Lord sometimes reverses the scene, and 
 proves us by the crosses and afflictions which He lays 
 upon us. We are smitten by disease, and confined for 
 weeks or months to the bed of pain and languishment. 
 Our w^ealth is scattered by misfortune or torn from us 
 by violence; all our worldly enterprises fail; em- 
 barassment, disappointment and mortification succeed. 
 Our friends forsake us, and want presses upon us, 
 and upon those who are placed under our protection. 
 Perhaps death makes an inroad upon our connections, 
 and sweeps away our best hopes in this world; or if 
 our connections are spared, they live only to be the 
 "witnesses of our degradation and suffering. 
 
 God has a thousand ways to afflict us, and can 
 multiply our trials in any variety or to any extent, as He 
 pleases. But in whatever way He passes before us, — 
 whether in prosperity or adversity, whether in things 
 great or in things small, (for nothing of any descrip- 
 tion falls out, without Him,) it is to prove us; to make 
 known what is in our hearts: — It is to try us, whether 
 we will keep his commandments or not. 
 
 I might say, if we had time to pursue this subject, 
 that God proves us by the callings which He allots to 
 us; by the particular characte'- of our friends and as- 
 sociates; by the defects of our own natural temper, 
 and the defects of those who surround us; by the 
 flatteries of friends and the reproaches of enemies; and 
 finally by the snares and devices of the adversary, w^ho 
 
BY THE PROVIDENCE OF GOD. 211 
 
 goeth about as a roaring lion, seeking ^vhom he may 
 devour. We cannot dwell upon these topics; we only 
 name them. 
 
 Let us then, my dear friends, pause a moment and 
 consider the solemn circumstances in which God has 
 placed us. We are in a state, where life and death 
 are set before us — all that can kindle hope and all that 
 can awaken fear. At the same time, we have innu- 
 merable motives of lesser consequence, springing from 
 every quarter, to draw away our minds from these 
 great interests, and to put our souls at hazard. Our 
 appetites and passions, our cares and pursuits, our 
 wants and sufferings, our mercies and comforts, our 
 friends and enemies, — all of them separately present 
 us with some temptation to deviate from the path of 
 duty. In the midst of so many motives, within the 
 call of such jarring interests and the conflicts which 
 these interests occasion, we have to make our way 
 through this world. Every step we take is a victory 
 gained, or a triumph lost. The heart is unfolding as 
 we proceed, and every advance in life is an advance 
 in wisdom or folly, in duty or sin. Shortly we shall 
 reach the end of our course, and find that our character 
 is formed, and our condition unalterably fixed. 
 
 What an affecting period, my brethren, will that be 
 when we shall look back and remember all the way 
 which the Lord our God has led us, to prove us and to 
 show us what was in our hearts; when we shall con- 
 template the instructions which have been afforded us, 
 the mercies we have enjoyed, the changes and suffer- 
 ings through which we have passed, — and more than 
 
212 THE HEART OF MEN PROVED 
 
 all, the influence which these various events have had 
 in fitting us for the retributions of eternity I 
 
 How distressing will it be to some to find that they 
 are not the persons they hoped to be in a dying hour; 
 that the siftings of God's word and providence have at 
 length demonstrated to them that they have no claim 
 to the character of the righteous, and can never in- 
 herit their rew^ards? Often, it may be, they have had 
 their fears how^ it would issue with them at last, when 
 they have observed the evil propensities of their own 
 minds, and the many irregularities w'hich these pro- 
 pensities have occasioned. But now" the great ques- 
 tion is decided; the events of life have shown what 
 w^as in their hearts; they have been tried, and instead 
 of coming forth as gold from the furnace, seven times 
 purified, they appear to be only dross and tin. This 
 must open to them the spring of unutterable and inter- 
 minable sorrow^s. To escape a fate so dreadful let us, 
 for once, endeavour to call up the past ; let us ask our- 
 selves before God what influence the various scenes of 
 life have already had upon us; whether the ghosts of 
 our departed hours bring us good report, and give us 
 ground to hope for the future. 
 
 What reception have we given to the w^ord of God? 
 Have we made its doctrines the subject of our careful 
 investigation? Have we w^eighed with impartiality the 
 evidence by w^hich they are supported, w^hile we have 
 faithfully endeavoured to distinguish them from the doc- 
 trines and commandments of men? Have w^e been w^il- 
 ling to know the truth, and do w^e delight in it after the 
 inward man? When the great doctrines of the gospel 
 
BY THE PROVIDENCE OF GOD. 2 13 
 
 have been set before us, have we embraced them with 
 cordiality, and rejoiced in them as a glorious exhibition 
 of the divine wisdom, holiness and mercy? Or have 
 we secretly or openly murmured against them, as hard 
 sayings which we were unwilling to hear? 
 
 In what manner have we regarded the precepts of 
 the gospel? Have we set them as a seal upon our 
 arms, and bound them as with cords of love upon our 
 hearts? Has it been our constant and ardent desire to 
 be more conformed to them, or have we lived in the 
 habitual and allowed neglect of these precepts, disre- 
 garding alike their requirements and their sanctions? 
 
 What effect, dear brethren, have the various dis- 
 pensations of Divine Providence had upon us? Do we 
 perceive that either mercies or afflictions have drawn 
 us near to God — and that they are actually working 
 out for us the far more exceeding and eternal weight of 
 glory? Have we narrowly watched our tempers? 
 Have we considered often the dangers to which our 
 companions or our callings expose us, and guarded our- 
 selves accordingly? In a word, do w^e perceive, by all 
 that passes before us and within us, that we are ripen- 
 ing for the world of retribution, — ripening for the com- 
 plete and everlasting enjoyment of God? 
 
 What effect would it produce upon us could we see 
 the liberty and happiness of a nation, for a single 
 century, staked upon the conduct of one man? With 
 what awful circumspection, should we say, ought he to 
 demean himselfl How precious should his time ap- 
 pear to him! How careful to seize every occasion to 
 secure or promote an object of such immense im~ 
 *19 
 
214 THE HEART OF MEN PROVED. 
 
 portance ! And what untold guilt and vengeance would 
 justly fall upon his head, if, by any negligence or folly 
 of his, an interest so precious, should be sacrificed? 
 And yet every one of us, has an interest incomparably 
 more important staked upon his conduct in this world. 
 Oh that we were wise to consider our latter end — wise 
 to get ready for eternity! 
 
SERMON XII. 
 
 THE SPIRIT OF CHRIST. 
 
 ROMANS VIII., 9. 
 " JVom; if any man have not the spirit of Christ he is none of 
 
 No, my dear brethren, he is none of his; Christ will 
 never acknowledge him as such. If he has not the 
 spirit of Christ, he is not Christ's disciple, Christ's 
 friend. He can hold no fellowship with Christ in this 
 world, nor will he be partaker of his glory in the world 
 to come. If he has not the spirit of Christ, he is not a 
 true Christian; whatever he may profess, or whatever 
 he may appear. He is still in the gall of bitterness 
 and bond of iniquity; under the power of a carnal 
 mind, which is enmity against God, not subject to the 
 law of God, neither indeed can be. There are no 
 exceptions to this statement, mortifying and painful as 
 it is. Whosoever has not the spirit of Christ, is un- 
 equivocally pronounced, by the passage before us, to 
 be in a state of deep and total alienation from God. 
 
 But what is it to have the spirit of Christ? In the 
 sense of the text, it is to have the Holy Spirit, the third 
 person in the ever adorable Trinity, dwelling in us, 
 by his sanctifying or renovating power. This Spirit, 
 
216 THE SPIRIT OF CHRIST. 
 
 which is so often called the Spirit of Christ, because 
 sent by him and acting by his authority, is given to all 
 true believers, to abide in them as a perpetual source 
 of life, while its operation in their hearts is compared 
 to living water, and to a w^ell of w^ater springing up to 
 everlasting life. It is so given to them, as never to 
 forsake them, but by its sweet and invisible power to 
 form them into the divine image, and to make them 
 meet for the inheritance of the saints in light. 
 
 You have only to glance your eye upon this passage, 
 in its connection, to perceive that the Apostle is speak- 
 ing of the Divine Spirit, and of his sanctifying energy 
 in the hearts of all true Christians. At the same time 
 his words suggest another proposition, not less true or 
 appropriate, — viz., that if any man have not the temper 
 or disposition of Christ, he is none of his. This propo- 
 sition results from the former. For if a man cannot be 
 Christ's without the sanctifying and indw^elling influ- 
 ence of the Holy Spirit, he cannot be Christ's, unless 
 the very temper and spirit of Christ be in him. It is 
 to form this temper that the Holy Spirit is given, and 
 that he dwells in the heart of the behever; and the 
 only proof that a man can have of the indwelling of this 
 Almighty Agent is, that he is like Christ, or has the 
 spirit and temper of Christ. Here then is a subject of 
 deep and eternal moment to us all ; — a subject which may 
 well demand attention, at the close of a revival, when 
 many are forming hopes for another world. The grand 
 question now to be settled is, whether we have the 
 spirit of Jesus Christ or not; for on this depend the 
 reality of our discipleship, and our prospects for eternity. 
 
THE SPIRIT OF CHRIST. 
 
 217 
 
 Accordingly the single design of the discourse will be 
 to point out the leading characteristics of Christ's 
 spirit, all of which are necessary to constitute us his 
 friends. 
 
 I. I begin by remarking that his spirit is eminently 
 a spirit of humility. 
 
 Christ courted no splendour, and made no vain and 
 empty parade in the days of his flesh. He even con- 
 cealed the glories he possessed, the glories of his divine 
 nature, and appeared in the form of a servant, w^hen he 
 might have appeared as the uncreated God, the Lord 
 of Heaven and earth. He did not strive nor cry, nor 
 cause his voice to be heard in the streets. When he 
 performed miracles of the most stupendous character, 
 which astonished alike the subjects and the beholders, 
 be often gave a charge not to make them known: and 
 when the multitudes, struck by the power of his preach- 
 ing, and the splendour of his works, gathered them- 
 selves together, and sought to make him king, he in- 
 stantly withdrew from them and retired into a secret 
 place. Born in deep poverty, he w^as contented to live 
 in it till the day of his death, though he was the original 
 Proprietor, and rightful Lord of all things. He tra- 
 velled up and dowm the world on foot, often w^eary, 
 often hungry and thirsty, and often the subject of the 
 bitterest reproach. He never rode but once that Ave 
 read of, and then it was upon an ass's colt, that he 
 might fulfil the prediction of the prophet concerning 
 him. Every action savoured of humility. With what 
 condescension did he treat his disciples, and those who 
 approached him for the benefit of his instructions, and 
 
218 THE SPIRIT OF CHRIST. 
 
 for his healing power I Ah I with what condescension 
 did he leave the throne of glory, to take upon him the 
 form of sinful, dying man, and to become obedient unto 
 death, even the accursed death of the cross I Herein he 
 " humbled himself," says the apostle; and it was an 
 act of humility which will forever surpass the powers 
 of angels fully to explore. God alone can adequately 
 conceive or comprehend it. 
 
 Now this temper, in its essential qualities, is indis- 
 pensable to the disciple of Christ. A man can no 
 more be a Christian without humility, than he can be 
 an intelligent beino- without reason. 
 
 To be a Christian is to put on Christ; and to put on 
 Christ is to be like him in the grand features of his 
 moral character. But can we be like him without 
 lowliness of mind, and without manifesting this spirit 
 in our daily intercourse with men, and in our approaches 
 to God? The fact is that Christian humility requires 
 us to esteem others better than ourselves, and in honour 
 to prefer one another, while it supposes us to have some 
 just views of our own sinful characters, and a dis- 
 position to lay ourselves low before God. A proud, 
 self-righteous, self-satisfied Christian, is a contradiction 
 in terms, and as much a mockery of reason, as a kind 
 or benevolent fiend. 
 
 But how shall I know, it may be asked, whether I 
 am truly humble, and especially whether I am humble 
 before God? I answer. When you feel like the pub- 
 lican, who stood afar off and durst not so much as lift 
 up his eyes unto Heaven, but smote upon his breast, 
 and cried God be merciful unto me a sinner; when you 
 
THE SPIRIT OF CHRIST. 219 
 
 feel like Mary, who stood behind Jesus, as he sat at 
 meat, and began to wash his feet with her tears, and to 
 wipe them with the hair -of her head; when you feel 
 like the returning prodigal, who said to his father, 
 " Father I have sinned against Heaven, and before thee, 
 and am no more worthy to be called thy son, make me 
 as one of thy hired servants," — give me the lowest 
 place if it be but under thy roof, and I am content; I 
 deserve not even this, but might justly be excluded from 
 thy family altogether — when you feel like those par- 
 doned Israelites, described by Ezekiel in the sixteenth 
 chapter of his prophecy, who, while they remembered 
 their ways, did not open their mouths (in a confident, 
 noisy, showy humility,) but were confounded before 
 God, because of their shame, and because of the evil 
 of their doings; then may you be assured that you are 
 the subject of genuine Christian humility. If you are 
 truly humbled before God, you w^ill loathe yourselves 
 in your own sight, for all your sins and abominations; 
 you w^ill stand amazed at God's mercy in not having 
 cut you off; you will desire above all things, to be 
 delivered from the power of sin, and to be perfectly 
 transformed into the divine image; and of course you 
 will not live allowedly in any known transgression, 
 but will fear God and show yourselves kind and 
 placable towards men. 
 
 II. The spirit of Christ which every true Christian 
 possesses, is a spirit of meekness and forbearance. This 
 is closely allied to humility, though not exactly the 
 same thing. Humility stands opposed to pride and 
 self-valuation, — meekness to cruelty and revenge. The 
 
220 THE SPIRIT OF CHRIST. 
 
 humble man forms a proper estimate of his own cha- 
 racter, and is full of condescension to those who are 
 beneath him. The meek man is kind and gentle to- 
 w^ards all; soft and forbearing towards those who have 
 injured him. This, you are well aware was eminently 
 Christ's spirit. " When he was reviled he reviled not 
 again; w^hen he was persecuted he threatened not, but 
 committed himself to him that judgeth righteously. 
 He was led as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep 
 before her sht arers is dumb, so he opened not his 
 mouth." Nothing like hastiness, keenness or revenge, 
 appeared in his whole character. This indeed cannot 
 be said of his followers, — not even ot the best of them — 
 I mean those who are most distinguished for a careful 
 imitation of their heavenly Master. Yet it can be said, 
 and must be said of all those who truly belong to Christ, 
 that theyhave a portion of this spirit. Great allowance 
 we are willing to make for a man's natural temperament. 
 Some are by nature more quick to feel an injury than oth- 
 ers, and more ready to resent it. Some, though slower 
 to wrath, yet when once kindled are hard to appease; 
 like the lion in the forest, not soon excited, but when 
 stirred up, dreadful to the foe. But let a man's natu- 
 ral disposition be what it may, if he have the spirit of 
 Christ, he will not be destitute of that meek and lowly 
 temper, so conspicuous in the character of the Saviour, 
 and which the Saviour himself singles out as an indis- 
 pensable requisite to those who actually take his yoke 
 upon them and learn of Him. Show me a man, 
 who in his general deportment is hasty, rash, cruel, 
 vindictive, who, upon the slightest injury, kindles into 
 
THE SPIRIT OF CHRIST. 221 
 
 a flame and forms the malignant purpose of revenge, 
 and I will show you a man who is ignorant of Christ; 
 a man, who, if he thinks himself a Christian, knows 
 not his own heart. Such a man may have been 
 baptized with water, but he never was baptized with 
 the Holy Ghost. He may have made a loud profession 
 of Christianity, but he is certainly a stranger to its 
 spirit and its power. What ! a Christian — a follower 
 of the meek and lowly Jesus, and yet bitter and spite- 
 ful and revengeful — a saint called to be holy and con- 
 secrated to God in a new and heavenly life, and yet no 
 gentleness, no forbearance, no long suffering! It is 
 impossible. Of such men we may say, notwithstand- 
 ing the mask which they wear, as Jacob on his death 
 bed said of Simeon and Levi — "Instruments of cruelty 
 are in their habitations. O my soul, come not thou into 
 their secret; unto their assembly, mine honour, be not 
 thou united. For in their anger they slew a man, and 
 in their self-will they digged down a w^all. Cursed be 
 their anger, for it w^as fierce, and their wrath for it was 
 cruel. I will divide them in Jacob, and scatter them 
 in Israel." 
 
 III. The spirit of forgiveness is another characteristic 
 of the Christian temper. It is not strange that a meek 
 and forbearing spirit should forgive. Having no re- 
 sentments to cherish, no revengeful purpos e to execute 
 why should it not forgive? A man has done me an 
 injury, but if I feel a kind and benignant spirit towards 
 him, — if from the bottom of my heart I sincerely wish 
 his v\'elfare, and do not fail to pray for it; if I am 
 willing to wipe the remembrance of his injustice or 
 20 
 
222 THE SPIRIT OF CHRIST. 
 
 unkindness from my bosom, and henceforth to do him 
 all the good in my power, what is this but forgiveness 
 itself? This is surely the spirit of the gospel, — the 
 spirit which Jesus himself exhibited in the most won- 
 derful manner on the cross. Surrounded by those who 
 were filled with the most implacable malice, mocking 
 and insulting his dying agonies, and thirsting for the 
 very last drop of his blood, no other emotion is felt by 
 him but that of benevolence and compassion. "Father," 
 saith he, "forgive them for they know not what they 
 do." Such also wa^ the spirit of the martyr Stephen, 
 who while his enemies were stoning him to death, 
 breathed forth the prayer, — " Lord lay not this sin to 
 their charge." And, brethren, let us not be deceived. 
 If we can not from the heart forgive those who have 
 trespassed against us, we shall lack an essential point 
 in the Christian character, and may be sure that we 
 ourselves shall not be forgiven. 
 
 This our Lord taught his disciples in the prayer com- 
 monly called the Lord's prayer, but more explicitly and 
 with greater emphasis in the parable of the unforgiving 
 servant mentioned in the eighteenth of Matthew. Read 
 that parable, my brethren, at your leisure, and reflect 
 upon the solemn application which Jesus Christ makes 
 of it. The servant was delivered to the tormentors 
 until he should pay all that was due. " So likewise," 
 saith Christ, " shall my heavenly Father do also unto 
 you, if ye from your hearts forgive not every one his 
 brother their trepasses." But what if my brother does 
 not repent, — am I bound then to forgive him? I am not 
 bound to restore him to my fellowship or my confidence. 
 
THE SPIRIT OF CHRIST. 223 
 
 This would be both unreasonable and impossible. But 
 I am bound to exercise a forgiving spirit. I must show 
 a readiness to receive him to favour, the moment he 
 relents and returns; and if he never return, I am still 
 to wish and pray for his welfare, and am forbidden all 
 desire of revenge. The example of Jesus upon the 
 cross is a sufficient warrant and guide upon this subject. 
 
 IV. I remark, in the fourth place, that the spirit of 
 Christ is a spirit of patience under suffering, whether 
 it be suffering immediately from the hand of God, or 
 from the hand of man. 
 
 We live in a world of suffering, and the best men 
 are often the deepest sharers in it. To endure what 
 God in his providence lays upon us, and to endure 
 without murmuring, is a virtue of high importance to 
 the Christian character. Jesus Christ has set us an 
 example here. He was eminently a man of sorrows, 
 and acquainted with grief. But who ever heard him 
 complain? When did he utter a murmuring word, or 
 vent an impatient sigh? He had his name cast out as 
 evil; he was a reproach and a bye word among the 
 people. For his love, they were his adversaries. The 
 more he labored among them for their salvation, the 
 more pointed was their malediction and the more 
 hardened their cruelty. They mocked him, they blas- 
 phemed him, and inflicted on him the tortures of the 
 cross; — but still his patience failed not. In the garden, 
 when his soul was exceeding sorrowful, even unto death, 
 and the dreadful weight of his Father's wrath was 
 pressing upon him, he cheerfully suffered the will of 
 God — " The cup which my heavenly Father hath given 
 
224 THE SPIRIT OF CHRIST. 
 
 me to drink/' saith he, " shall I not drink it?" And 
 although in the moment of his bitterest agony, he 
 prayed, " Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass 
 from me," yet he immediately subjoins, " Not my will 
 but thine be done." The most eminent disciple of 
 Jesus will no doubt fall far short of this bright ex- 
 ample; still it is an essential part of the Christian 
 temper to be patient in tribulation. Tribulation, indeed, 
 is sent for the very purpose of working patience, and 
 where this virtue is wanting, there also is the spirit of 
 Christ wanting. 
 
 V. To this, I add, that the spirit of Christ is emi- 
 nently a praying spirit. 
 
 None of you can be ignorant how much the divine 
 Redeemer inculcated prayer. By his example, no less 
 than by his instructions, he often pressed this duty upon 
 his disciples. Surprising as the circumstance may 
 appear, he sometimes spent whole nights in prayer. 
 When no eye but his own was awake, he poured out 
 his soul into the bosom of his heavenly Father, and 
 committed himself to Him, w^ho had promised to sus- 
 tain him. On some occasions when he had much to 
 occupy him through the day, he rose up very early in 
 the morning, and engaged in this duty. His benevo- 
 lent heart found full and delightful employment in 
 praying for others, if not for himself. 
 
 If we are Christians indeed, we are partakers of the 
 same spirit. We shall not merely pray, and pray with 
 constancy and regularity, as often as the proper season 
 of devotion returns, but we shall delight in the duty. 
 We shall love to come into the presence of our hea- 
 
THE SPIRIT OF CHRIST. 225 
 
 venly Father, and unbosom to Him all our wants 
 and all our sorrows. We shall feel it a privilege to 
 extol and magnify his name, while we remember and 
 supplicate his mercy, and send up to Him our songs of 
 thanksgiving and praise. He does but deceive him- 
 self, who imagines that he is a Christian, unless he 
 possesses a spirit of prayer. I say a spirit of prayer, 
 in distinction from (he gift of prayer. A man may 
 have a great gift for the performance of this duty, and 
 be much admired by his fellow worshippers for the flu- 
 ency and pertinency with which he pours forth his 
 supplications, and yet be utterly destitute of the spirit. 
 Prayer is desire, sincere, unequivocal desire, offered 
 unto God for things agreeable to his will, in the name of 
 Christ; and where there is no desire, or none which 
 flows from an humble, believing and sanctified heart, 
 there there is no prayer in the view of Him who trieth the 
 heart and the reins. It is only a solemn mockery, which 
 unless repented of, God will expose^ sooner or later, to 
 the assembled universe, to the everlasting confusion of 
 the presumptuous and self-inflated individual who is 
 guilty of it. 
 
 VI. I remark, further, that he is no less deceived 
 who indulges the hope that he is a Christian, if he be 
 not dead to the world. The spirit of Christ is a hea- 
 venly spirit, — a spirit which draws not its hopes and 
 its comforts chiefly from this transitory state. How 
 was it with the blessed Redeemer himself? Did he 
 teach that " a man's life consists not in the abundance 
 of the things which he possesseth?" Yes he taught 
 
 this, and he actually felt as he taught. He sought not 
 20* 
 
226 THE SPIRIT OF CHEIST. 
 
 the honours and pageantry of the world. He desired 
 neither its wealth nor its. pleasures. His soul was 
 borne aloft to the glories of the unseen state, — the glo- 
 ries which he had with the Father before the world 
 was; the glories which he expected to enjoy hereafter 
 with all his redeemed; and to enjoy forever, when the 
 darkness and sufferirrg of the present scene should have 
 passed away. This was the joy set before him to 
 which he constantly looked, and for which he endured 
 the cross, despising the shame. 
 
 We may, if we please, dream that we are Christians, 
 while our hearts are buried in the world, and while it 
 is manifest to every body but ourselves that we are seek- 
 ing to lay up treasures here. But one thing is certain: 
 we have not Christ's spirit while we hold on, with such 
 a death-like grasp, to the world. " He that loveth the 
 world," says the Apostle, " the love of the Father is 
 not in him." " The lusts of the flesh, the lusts of the 
 eye, and the pride of life," — these are of the world; 
 and if they govern us, though we may be too blind to 
 see it or too perverse to acknowledge it, it is certain 
 we have not the spirit of Christ, and shall never be 
 owned by Him as his. 
 
 VII. The spirit of Christ is also a resolute and per- 
 severing spirit in the discharge of duty. Jesus Christ, 
 though meek and gentle as a lamb, was nevertheless 
 fearless and determined. He had a host of wicked men 
 and devils to oppose, but no difficulties terrified him, no 
 sufferings and dangers forced him back. Whatever 
 became duty he resolutely performed it, though Saddu- 
 cees reproached, and Pharisees blasphemed^ Such also 
 
THE SPIRIT OF CHRIST. 227 
 
 was the spirit of the apostles, and such, to a certain 
 degree, is the spirit of every true Christian. If a man 
 merely truckle and calculate, if he balance his interest 
 with this party and that, or with this friend and that, 
 if he will risk nothing for conscience sake, or be driven 
 from his own convictions by a little worldly loss or 
 gain, what claim can he have to the bold and manly 
 Spirit of Jesus Christ, who walked so fearlessly in 
 the path of duty, and Avho said — " Lo, I come, in 
 the volume of the book it is written of me, I delight 
 to do thy will, God, yea thy law is within my heart." 
 VIII. I mention a disinterested love to man as another 
 branch of the Christian temper 5 and was not this 
 emphatically the spirit of Jesus Christ? What brought 
 him from Heaven to earth? What induced him to 
 take our nature upon him, with all its weakness and 
 infirmities, sin only excepted? Why did he pass 
 through that wonderful scene of humiliation and suffer- 
 ing which reached from the manger to the cross? Why 
 did he bow his head, at last, in unknown agonies, and 
 sink to the weakness and dishonours of the grave? 
 Was it to redeem a race of beings who had been kind 
 and dutiful to him, or who, when redeemed, could make 
 any adequate return for his love? No I it was for his 
 enemies literally that this amazing sacrifice was made; — 
 for those who had not implored this mercy at his hands, 
 nor would be willing to accept of it, but through the 
 interposition of his sovereign and all-conquering grace. 
 Here was love without a parallel, — love stronger than 
 death, — love of the most tender and disinterested cha- 
 racter. 
 
228 THE SPIRIT OF CHRIST. 
 
 If we have the spirit of Christ, a compassion like 
 this will dwell in our own bosoms. We shall take a 
 deep interest in the happiness of our fellow men, and 
 especially in their eternal happiness. Whoever they 
 are, and wherever they are, we shall desire sincerely 
 and intensely their highest welfare. It will not be 
 enough that we love the immediate circle of our friends, 
 that we are kind to those who are kind to us. Our 
 generous bosoms will warm with affection towards the 
 whole human family. We shall be able to love those 
 that hate us, and pray for those that despitefully use 
 and persecute us. 
 
 Finally: The same virtuous and heavenly disposition 
 w\\] show itself in supreme love to God and in a tender 
 regard for his honour. This was preeminently Christ's 
 spii it. His Father's interest and his Father's honour 
 lay near his heart. He had dwelt in the bosom of the 
 Father from eternity. He surveyed His glories with 
 more than an angel's eye, and burned in affection to 
 Him with all the powers of Deity and humanity 
 united. It w^as to unfold his Father's character, to set 
 his glory high in the presence of the intelligent uni- 
 verse, that he made his appearance in our w^orld. " I 
 came not," saith he, " to do mine own will or to seek 
 mine own glory, but to do the will, and to seek the 
 glory of Him that sent me." His zeal in the temple, 
 w^hen he drove from thence those that bought and sold, 
 and overthrew the tables of the money changers, suffi- 
 ciently demonstrates his tender concern for his Father's 
 honour, and his readiness to vindicate the rights of his 
 sacred cause. A similar zeal though far less pure in 
 
THE SPIRIT OF CHRIST. 229 
 
 its operation, glows in the heart of every sincere disci- 
 ple of Jesus. Enlightened from above, he discerns 
 enough of the divine glory, to throw a shade over all ter- 
 restrial things. God appears to him to be the chief 
 good, and his glory worthy to be the supreme end of all 
 his actions. He feels himself tenderly united to his 
 interest and honour. Such, my dear brethren, is the 
 spirit of Jesus, and such, in a greater or less degree, 
 is our spirit, if we are in reality his friends. 
 
 What then can we say for ourselves, in a review o^ 
 this subject? What indeed has conscience said already? 
 Does the spirit of Christ dwell in us,— yea, or nay? I 
 do not ask if it dwell in our neighbours or in our Chris- 
 tian brethren generally — does it dwell in our own souls? 
 Let each waiting heart before God this evening, answer 
 the question for himself, personally. Say, my dear 
 brother, or my dear sister, hast thou the humility and 
 condescension of Jesus? Hast thou his meekness and 
 forbearance? Canst thou forgive like him, suffer like 
 him, pray like him? Like him, are you dead to the 
 world, while you are fearless and resolute in the dis- 
 charge of duty? Like him, is your bosom warmed 
 with disinterested love to your fellow men, and with 
 a pure but supreme love to God, the Father of us 
 all? 
 
 If such be the fact with us, we are Christians indeed. 
 We are united to Jesus by bonds which are indissoluble 
 and eternal. Christ is ours, and we are Christ's ; and 
 as certainly as he is heir of all things, so certainly are 
 we heirs with him. We are children of the same Fa- 
 ther — He the elder, we the younger brethren. Has he 
 
230 THE SPIRIT OF CHRIST. 
 
 gone to Heaven to take possession of an immortal in- 
 heritance — he has gone in our name; and it is his 
 promise that where he is there shall we be also. Let 
 it be our concern then, to grow in a conformity to him 
 in all things, drinking more deeply into his spirit, as 
 we advance, and bringing forth fruit more abundantly 
 to his praise. But if the Spirit of Christ be not in us, 
 be assured we are none of his, whatever shining quali- 
 ties we may possess, or whatever hopes we may enter- 
 tain. 
 
 Oh let us not be deceived, with the Bible, that great 
 fountain of light, in our hands. God and not man will 
 judge us; and the judgment He will pronounce, will 
 be final and decisive. And let us bear in mind that 
 He will judge us, not as we judge one another, — by 
 what passes without, but by what passes within. He 
 has his eye directly fixed upon our hearts, and sees 
 most perfectly every latent thought, and spring of action 
 there. Shall we not then cry with David — " Search 
 me, O Lord, and know me, try my reins, and my heart, 
 and see if there be any evil way in me, and lead me in 
 the way which is everlasting." 
 
 Let all those who are convinced that they have not 
 the Spirit of Christ awake to a conviction of their sin- 
 fulness and dano;er. Remember that there is no neutral 
 ground here. If you are not for Christ, you are against 
 him; if you gather not with him, you scatter abroad. 
 If you are not numbered with his friends, he will cer- 
 tainly reckon you among his enemies. And can it be 
 safe for you to remain in such circumstances? Can 
 you dethrone Omnipotence, or successfully oppose the 
 
THE SPIRIT OF CHRIST. 231 
 
 mandate of theEternal ? Your only safety is in yielding 
 at once to his authority, and becoming the humble and 
 obedient disciples of the Lord Jesus. Only let the 
 Spirit of Christ be in you, and He will own you as 
 his when you meet him in the character of a judge. 
 
SERMON XIII. 
 
 DARKNESS SURROUNDING GOD'S RIGHTEOUS 
 THRONE. 
 
 PSALMS, XCVIL, 2. 
 
 " Clouds and darkness are round about Him ; righieousness 
 and judgment are the habitation of his throned 
 
 This psalm is commonly supposed to have been 
 written by David, on his restoration to the throne of 
 Israel, from which he had been driven, for a time, by 
 the rebellion of his son Absalom. The mysterious and 
 distressing circumstances attending this portion of his 
 history, and the evident interposition of the hand of 
 the Almighty, prepared him to look deep into the 
 ways of God, and to adore the administration of his 
 providence. He was brought to realize that God's 
 hand was more immediately or remotely concerned in 
 every event; that in things great and things small, in 
 things above our comprehension as in those which are 
 level to it, in things which contradict our wishes no 
 less than those which accord with them, God acts with 
 unerring wisdom and with the most perfect rectitude. 
 
 The psalm begins thus — " The Lord reigneth, let 
 the earth rejoice, let the multitude of isles be glad 
 thereof Clouds and darkness are round about him; 
 
233 
 
 righteousness and judgment are the habitation of his 
 throne." By clouds and darkness round about God, 
 we are to understand, the mysteries in which his being, 
 attributes and ways are involved. Clouds and dark- 
 ness obscure those objects which they surround. They 
 prevent a clear and satisfying vision. Any thing 
 hidden behind a cloud, or seen through a dark and ob- 
 structing medium, must be seen and known imperfectly. 
 It is often even painful to contemplate objects thus 
 obscured by intervening obstacles. And is not this, 
 to a certain degree, verified, when w^e contemplate the 
 being and attributes of God, as proclaimed by his 
 works or by his word? Many truths respecting them 
 are too obvious to be denied; and yet so far are they 
 above our comprehension, that clouds and darkness 
 may be said to rest upon them. In many cases, the 
 more we push our inquiries, the more does the darkness 
 thicken upon us; and it is well if w^e do not sometimes 
 conclude our researches by doubts dishonourable to God, 
 and injurious to the cause of religion and viitue. 
 
 But what is to be done? Shall we give over 
 thinking upon God, because we cannot comprehend 
 Him? Shall we renounce the truth of his being, and 
 the certainty of his moral government, because we 
 find things in both which are to us unresolvable? Or 
 shall we abide by the declaration of the Psalmist — 
 that " clouds and darkness are around about Him, 
 while righteousness and judgment are the habitation of 
 his throne?" 
 
 Tw^o propositions are here asserted, both of them. 
 21 
 
234 DARKNESS SURROUNDING 
 
 unquestionably true, and both of the deepest importance. 
 Let us consider them separately. 
 
 I. The Psalmist asserts that " clouds and darkness are 
 round about God," — a truth which we cannot but admit, 
 if we reflect a moment upon his being and attributes. 
 
 That there is a God, a Being of infinite wisdom, 
 power and goodness, every object around us proclaims. 
 These heavens and this earth assure us that they 
 must have had a cause, and a cause adequate to their 
 existence, and to the intelligence and design which 
 'they every where display. So glorious a structure we 
 are certain could never have been the result of chance, 
 or a blind unmeaning necessity. As soon could we 
 persuade ourselves that a book w^as written or a house 
 builded by chance, as that the world had such an origin. 
 
 But when we have satisfied ourselves that God is, 
 and that He is the glorious author of every thing we 
 behold, we have ascended to the highest step to w^hich 
 our reason will carry us. The moment we begin to 
 ask how God exists, or whence the foundation of his 
 being, the subject rises above our si2:ht — clouds and 
 darkness rest upon it. 
 
 We say indeed that God must have existed from 
 eternity; and that he must have existed without any 
 antecedent cause of his existence; for if there ever 
 w^as a time when God did not exist, and exist as 
 the first cause of all things, there never would have 
 been a time, in which he could have existed; — there 
 never would have been any first cause, nor effects flow 
 ing from it, unless the first and most perfect of all 
 
god's righteous throne. 235 
 
 causes could arise absolutely out of nothing. Yet after 
 all, what adequate conceptions can we have of God's 
 eternal existence? What idea can we form of a Beino: 
 who has no beginning, with whom there is no succession 
 of thought or of time, who is no older so to speak, now, 
 than he was millions of ages past? Is it not all dark- 
 ness when we attempt to think or speak upon this un- 
 fathomable subject? 
 
 We say too, that God is self -existent, being well 
 assured that He could not derive his being from another. 
 But do we understand the full import of this proposition? 
 Can we see how it is that a being should exist in and 
 of himself, without any prior or extraneous cause what- 
 soever? Might we not almost as well conceive of his 
 existing without any proper ground or reason of his 
 existence? Or that there should be an effect without a 
 cause? True, it may be said that he exists necessarily, 
 and that this necessity has from eternity been a reason 
 or ground of his existence. But have we any clear 
 ideas of such a necessity? Is it an operative cause 
 producing an effect? Or is it something different from 
 a cause? Is absolute Deity to be predicated of it, or of 
 that which it causes or occasions? Who does not see 
 that impenetrable clouds and darkness rest upon all 
 such inquiries? 
 
 We are taught, moreover, and it seems to be a dictate 
 of reason, that God is everywhere present, — that He 
 exists in all places, for the same reason that He exists 
 in any place. But if God be everywhere present, is 
 He not partly within these walls, and partly without, 
 .ust as we suppose that a part of infinite space is within 
 
236 DARKNESS SURROUNDING 
 
 these walls, and a part without? Yet what have parts 
 to do with infinity? That which is divided cannot be 
 infinite. 
 
 The omnipresence of the Deity is an attribute above 
 our comprehension. That infinite wisdom and power 
 should dwell in every point of the universe, and be the 
 same in all points collectively as in one, — no greater — 
 no less, — who can search it out? Clouds and dark- 
 ness are round about God here. But his omniscience is 
 as incomprehensible to us, as his omnipresence. There 
 is no searching of his understanding. Who can tell 
 how it is, that God sees perfectly, at one view, all that 
 ever has been and all that ever will be transacted by 
 men or angels; how every event both possible and 
 actual, should lie so naked before him, that there can 
 be neither addition nor diminution to his knowledge? 
 
 The moment we enter upon this subject, we find 
 ourselves beyond our depth. We perceive thick dark- 
 ness overspreading our feeble powers, and our minds 
 sinking with pain under the weight of a truth which 
 they can not comprehend. 
 
 As believers in divine revelation, we might call 
 your attention to the threefold existence of the Deity, 
 as a subject around which clouds and darkness are still 
 hung. The scriptures assure us of this fact, and on 
 their testimony we are bound to believe it. Not that 
 the persons of the Godhead are one in the same sense 
 that they are three — this would be a contradiction in 
 terms; but that they are one in some sense that we 
 cannot comprehend. No one can justly pretend to 
 fathom this mystery. It has remained inexplicable 
 
god's righteous throne. 237 
 
 from the beginning, and every attempt to unfold it is 
 only darkening counsel by words without knowledge. 
 It is a doctrine of revelation solely ; and to be received 
 only upon the authority of scripture. We mention it, 
 at this time, merely to illustrate the declaration of the 
 text, that clouds and darkness are round about God. 
 
 But further, God is enveloped in clouds and dark- 
 ness, not only with respect to what He is, in his being 
 and attributes, but also with respect to what He does, 
 both in creating and governing the world. Who will 
 undertake to show the wisdom or goodness of God in 
 many appearances of nature around us, all of which 
 are the works of Him, who is perfect in knowledge? 
 What wise or good design can be seen in covering the 
 earth with so great a portion of water, in forming so 
 many deep and extensive marshes, so many lofty and 
 inaccessible mountains? Was it the primary object 
 of this material world to be a convenient habitation 
 for men and the lower orders of creatures which move 
 upon it? If so, what was the intention of vast tracts 
 of burning sand and uninhabitable deserts? Will any 
 one pretend to see the wisdom of God in these things, 
 and to show that they are worthy of the contrivance 
 of an omniscient and benevolent mind? To what pur- 
 pose were noxious plants and animals created, which 
 in their effects seem only to injure other parts of God's 
 works? Who knows the object and design of millions 
 of motes and insects floating in the air? Who can 
 see the wisdom of causing one order of beings to sub- 
 sist upon the sacrifice of another, instead of providing 
 for all, as God has provided for the flocks and herds of 
 *21 
 
238 DARKNESS SURROUNDING 
 
 the field? You may say that this plan gives more ex- 
 istence in the same compass — but can He who fills im- 
 mensity, want compass? Is there not room enough in 
 the boundless fields of space, for Him to multiply his 
 works and to give any assignable amount of existence? 
 
 These are things in the natural world which rise 
 above our comprehension. They are the operations 
 indeed of an infinitely wise God, but they are opera- 
 tions in which He envelopes himself in clouds and 
 darkness in respect to us. They proclaim the weakness 
 of our understandings, when compared with his deep 
 and unfathomable designs. 
 
 But let us look into the moral world and see if we 
 are more competent to judge of the dispensations of God 
 towards his rational offspring. Why are so many 
 millions of the human species born into the world, 
 only as it were to gasp and die, who do not continue 
 long enough in life^ to possess any visible moral cha- 
 racter, or to answer any of the purposes for which we 
 should suppose human beings were made? Why are 
 so many cut off in the flower of their age, just as they 
 begin to enjoy life, and to act a useful part, while 
 others are continued beyond all degrees of comfort to 
 themselves or usefulness to mankind? Where does the 
 wisdom of this dispensation appear? Certain purposes 
 we know it may answer; but still it contravenes the 
 principles and maxims which govern the human un- 
 derstanding. 
 
 Who can discover all the reasons why a rebellion 
 hath taken place under the government of God? In 
 human governments opposition to the laws and the 
 
god's righteous throne. 239 
 
 established authorities argues some weakness in the 
 head or governing power; some want of wisdom to 
 prevent, or power to control disorder; and we should 
 suppose, leaving facts out of the question, that, when 
 there was perfect wisdom in the head to devise, and 
 Almighty power to execute, there would be entire 
 subordination to the governing power; there universal 
 peace and good order would prevail. But yet it is not 
 so under the government of God. Though a being of 
 infinite wisdom and power, there are those who rebel 
 against his authority and trample upon his laws. 
 
 We need not go to the regions of darkness — to the 
 abodes of fallen angels, for proof of this fact. We our- 
 selves are a race of rebellious creaturCvS. We have 
 violated the laws, and risen up against the authority of 
 our Creator. And it is a matter of just surprise that 
 He should suffer us to exist and continue our rebellion 
 against Him from generation to generation. And we 
 are the more confounded with this subject when we 
 reflect that God is not only wise and powerful but in- 
 finitely benevolent; and if He had not permitted sin and 
 misery in his kingdom, we should have been ready to 
 pronounce that He never could have permitted them. 
 Reasoning from the attributes of God alone, prior to 
 the introduction of sin and misery, none of us would 
 ever come to the conclusion that either one or the other 
 could happen under his wise, benevolent and powerful 
 government. 
 
 But contrary to what we might have supposed 
 probable, how much sin, how much misery, how much 
 disorder, do we see in the kingdom of God I What 
 
240 DARKNESS SURROUNDING 
 
 distressing scenes has every age witnessed in every 
 part of the globe; scenes of pillage and blood; — of 
 oppression and desolation and wo! All this we have 
 seen taking place under the eye, and by the permission, 
 of an omnipotent, infinitely wise and benevolent Being: 
 — And is there nothing confounding to our understand- 
 ings in such dispensations? 
 
 Revelation indeed has thrown much ligbt upon this 
 subject, — enough perhaps to put an humble mind to 
 rest; still it is but little that we know; and notwith- 
 standing all our researches and inquiries, clouds and 
 darkness are round about God here. 
 
 It would be easy, were it necessary, to protract this 
 part of the discourse by referring you to other facts and 
 events, in which God's ways are unfathomable to us, 
 where He hath his path in the deep waters and his foot- 
 steps are not known. But it is time to proceed to the 
 
 II. Second branch of the text, in which the Psalmist 
 declares that " righteousness and judgment are the 
 habitation of God's throne." 
 
 What an infinite relief to the pious and humble mind 
 is here, — That though clouds and darkness are round 
 about God, (as to the manner of his being, his attri- 
 butes and his providence,) yet righteousness and judg- 
 ment are the habitation of his throne; — infinite rectitude 
 presides in all his counsels, and directs every act of 
 his government. How gladly does the wearied eye 
 look off from the clouds and thick darkness to this 
 bright and cheering view of the divine character ! Here 
 it gains an assurance that whatever takes place under 
 the government of a righteous God, must ultimately 
 
god's righteous throne. 241 
 
 terminate in his glory, and the highest good of those 
 that love Him. 
 
 Righteousness and judgment, as the words are here 
 used by the Psalmist, comprehend the whole moral 
 character of the Deity. They signify not only the in- 
 finite rectitude with which God governs the world, but 
 by necessary implication, they signify his goodness and 
 truth; and even his wisdom. Infinite rectitude cannot 
 be displayed unless infinite wisdom dictate, and regu- 
 late the means. And where infinite rectitude and 
 wisdom are employed, infinite goodness and almighty 
 power will be combined. One divine perfection im- 
 plies and involves all the rest. The phraseology here 
 used by the Psalmist, is very peculiar and worthy of 
 special notice. He says not that God is righteous and 
 executes judgment among his creatures; but that 
 " righteousness and judgment are the habitation of his 
 throne." Though God over all, and having a sove- 
 reign right to dispose of his creatures according to his 
 pleasure, yet his throne is established in infinite wisdom 
 and righteousness. He cannot possibly err in judgment 
 or do injustice to the weakest and meanest of his sub- 
 jects. Their rights are as sacred to Him as his own. 
 Both are adjusted on principles of unalterable rectitude, 
 and guarded by almighty power. 
 
 Do you ask for the proof of this? Reason itself af- 
 fords probable arguments for this statement. 
 
 That God is a being, wise and powerful, and inde- 
 pendent of all other beings, is a proposition which 
 none of us will deny. As the first cause of all things, 
 he must of necessity possess all the wisdom and power 
 
242 DARKNESS SURROUNDING 
 
 in the universe. And with these attributes, what mo- 
 tive can He have to do wrong? His own infinite un- 
 derstanding must dictate what is right, and if there be 
 no bias, from mistaken or sinister views, how is it pos- 
 sible that He should err? But infinite wisdom can 
 never act from mistaken views; and how can a Being 
 who is greater than all other beings, and comprehends 
 within himself the sum of all, act from sinister or self- 
 ish views? His regard to himself can never exceed 
 the greatness and excellence of his own being, and as 
 He is necessarily and infinitely above all want, it is 
 impossible that He should be tempted to neglect or in- 
 jure the work of his own hands. When men depart 
 from their duty, it is always in expectation of some 
 good, real or imaginary, — something which they have 
 not, and which they fancy can not be as easily and as 
 readily obtained by adhering to their duty, as by de- 
 parting from it. Their transgressions of course can 
 always be traced to some w^eakness or deficiency aris- 
 ing from their limited natures and powers. Would 
 there be any room for self-valuation, if men were not 
 limited in their capacities and therefore in danger of 
 over-rating them? W^ould there be any room for 
 envy or discontent— any room for artifice, covetous- 
 ness, fraud, or venality, if the same limitation of power 
 did not exist, and consequently a limitation of enjoy- 
 ment? In a being therefore w^ho is absolutely un- 
 limited in his nature and attributes, who is over all and 
 possesses all, who can neither err in judgment nor be 
 the subject of any weakness or want, — can we con- 
 ceive it possible, that in such a being there should be 
 
243 
 
 any motive to depart from the dictates of his own all- 
 searching understanding? We have not time to pur- 
 sue this argument, but if we mistake not, it contains a 
 strong presumptive proof of the holiness and rectitude 
 of the divine character. 
 
 The same truth might be shown, from the sense of 
 good and evil, which God has impressed upon our 
 minds; for He who has caused us to distinguish be- 
 tween right and wrong, must himself make this dis- 
 tinction. He who has taught us to condemn ourselves 
 and to condemn others for a breach of the great law of 
 righteousness, must himself condemn us for a breach of 
 that law; and in his judgment at least be the friend of 
 virtue, and the enemy of vice; nay, in the temper of 
 his mind he must accord with that which is good and 
 praiseworthy, and be opposed to that which is evil. 
 This is farther manifest from the penal sanctions which 
 he has annexed to the law of our duty, and which are 
 visible in the administrations of his providence. How 
 many crimes there are, which carry their own punish- 
 ment along with them; and which carry this punish- 
 ment in the very constitution of nature as a token of 
 God's displeasure against sin! How many more, 
 which, by the dispositions implanted in man, receive 
 their reward from the hands of the civil magistrate, and 
 from the overwhelming voice of public censure ! There 
 is not indeed an equal providence in this world, or a 
 full and just retribution of the righteous and the wicked. 
 But there is enough in the dealings of God towards 
 men, to excite the most certain expectation of such a 
 retribution hereafter. We see the beginnings of that 
 
244 DARKNESS SURROUNDING 
 
 moral government, which is to have its completion in 
 another world. But why should we attempt to draw 
 arguments from the light of reason, that God governs 
 the world in truth and righteousness? It is no farther 
 useful than to show that reason and revelation speak 
 the same language and mutually confirm each other. 
 To the scriptures we must chiefly repair for our know- 
 ledge of God. Here a light shines with inexpressible 
 brightness, and the darkness restraineth it not. Here 
 w^e find the most direct and solemn assurances that the 
 righteous Lord loveth righteousness, and that there is 
 no error or iniquity with him; that though " clouds 
 and darkness are round about him, yet righteousness 
 and judgment are the habitation of his throne." This, 
 every where, is so maniliestly the language of scripture 
 that I forbear to quote. 
 
 As an application of what has been said, we may 
 remark in the first place, that the mysteries which 
 surround the Divine Being, ought not to be made an 
 objection to the duties of piety, or hinder us in the 
 performance of those duties. What if we can not com- 
 prehend every thing in relation to the great God? 
 Neither could David; and yet he was both constant 
 and fervent in the duties of piety. What if we can not 
 penetrate into the mysteries of God's self-existence and 
 eternity; his omniscience or omnipresence? W^hat 
 if we can not always see the wisdom of his works, 
 whether of creation or providence, or comprehend the 
 sublime truths of his word? Neither could David; and 
 yet he not only rejoiced in the government of God, 
 but called upon all the world to rejoice in it. " The 
 
245 
 
 Lord reigneth; let the earth rejoice; let the multitude 
 of isles be glad thereof." 
 
 The clouds and darkness that are round about God, 
 are no proof that his throne is not established in 
 righteousness, and therefore no reason why we should 
 not confide in his government, and offer him our warm- 
 est praise. 
 
 There are some w^ho reject the scriptures, and the 
 worship of Jehovah which they prescribe, because they 
 contain things above their comprehension. There are 
 others who reject the particular providence of God for 
 the same reason ; others who deny his moral govern- 
 ment and even his very existence, because they find 
 things pertaining to these subjects, which stretch be- 
 yond their faculties. But how unreasonable is this! 
 Shall we fall into downright atheism, because God is 
 great and we are insignificant? Shall we plunge into 
 the darkness of universal scepticism, because we have 
 not light enough in this embryo of our existence, fully 
 to explore all the depths of God's word and providence? 
 How much more becoming our condition as creatures 
 of yesterday, to acknowledge our weakness, and to 
 yield to testimony sufficient to command our assent on 
 other subjects, though clouds and darkness should rest 
 upon some of the doctrines we embrace! Surely it 
 cannot be thought surprising, that the works and ways 
 of an infinite mind should often rise above the grasp of 
 our feeble powers! 
 
 This leads me to remark, in the second place, that 
 so far should we be from doubting or complaining 
 under the darkness which attends the government of 
 22 
 
246 DARKNESS SURROUNDING 
 
 God, that we ought to humble ourselves before Him in 
 view of our own littleness and guilt, and bless his 
 glorious name for the proof that He has given us of 
 his boundless wisdom, and perfect rectitude. 
 
 What a foundation does this view of his character 
 lay for contentment under all the allotments of his 
 providence, for tranquillity amidst the various storms 
 which agitate this lower world, and for joy in the pros- 
 pect of seeing all disorders rectified, and the' greatest 
 possible good in the kingdom of God finally accom- 
 plished. 
 
 Let God envelope himself in clouds, and thick dark- 
 ness if He will; — let Him make darkness his secret 
 place and his pavilion round about Him dark waters 
 and thick clouds of the skies; so long as this blessed 
 assurance is left, that whatever events occur, righteous- 
 ness and judgment are the habitation of his throne, we 
 may, and we ought to rejoice. 
 
 Finally: Since God is a being of infinite rectitude, 
 and governs the world in righteousness, let us look for- 
 ward to that period, when He will take an account of 
 us, as his servants. 
 
 If He govern the world in righteousness. He will 
 certainly judge the world in righteousness, and we 
 may well anticipate the solemn day, when we ourselves 
 shall stand before Him, and be judged according to the 
 deeds done in the body. Every cloud will then be 
 driven back from before the face of his throne, and He 
 will vindicate his righteousness before the assembled 
 world. He will call to the Heavens from above, and 
 to the earth, that He may judge his people; He will 
 
247 
 
 make the universe witness of the justice and equity of 
 hi§ proceedings. It will then no longer be doubted 
 whether there be a God, whether he has prescribed a 
 law^ for his creatures, and sanctioned it by a penalty; 
 whether it shall be well with the righteous, and ill 
 w^ith the wicked. He will then show who is the only 
 Potentate, the King of kings and the Lord of lords. 
 He will make such a distribution of rewards, and 
 punishments, as to put a wide and eternal distinction 
 between those that serve Him, and those that serve 
 Him not. May we, my brethren, be prepared to meet 
 our God in judgment, to stand acccepted before Him 
 through the merits of the Saviour, and be admitted to the 
 participation of joys which shall thrill the souls of the 
 redeemed, while the glories of the unfolding Deity, 
 shall pour upon their sight, and increase in brightness 
 as the years of eternity roll on. 
 
SERMON YTV * 
 
 DUTY OF SUBMISSION. 
 
 PSALM XL VI., 10. 
 "Be still and know that I am GodP 
 
 As Christians, we believe in the existence of an all- 
 wise, almighty, and infinitely merciful God, whose 
 providence extends to the minutest concerns of this 
 lower world. Even a sparrow falls not to the ground 
 without his knowledge and appointment. We believe 
 that the time of our birth and the time of our death, 
 w^ith all the trials and changes which intervene, are 
 distinctly marked out by him, and that nothing can be- 
 fall us, which he will not overrule for his own glory 
 and the highest good of his everlasting kingdom. 
 
 * Preached at Newark, January 14, 1810, after the death of 
 Mr. Lewis Le Conte Congar, a student of the Andover Theolo- 
 gical Seminary, a native of Newark and a member of the church 
 of which Dr. R. was Pastor. 
 
 This and the remaining discourses in the volume were published 
 by Dr. Richards in his lifetime ; but as most of them have been 
 long out of print, and as they were delivered on various interesting 
 occasions, it has been thought that they would perhaps be more 
 acceptable to the mass of readers, than any thing that could be 
 selected from his unpublished manuscripts. 
 
DUTY OF SUBMISSION. 249 
 
 From these principles, it might be expected that we 
 should always peaceably resign ourselves to God's 
 sovereign will, and be perfectly tranquil under the 
 dealings of his hand. But how seldom, alas, is such 
 an expectation realized I When God rises up in judg- 
 ment against us and dashes to pieces our fondest hopes, 
 how prone are we to rise up in rebellion against Him, 
 and to feel dissatisfied with his righteous providence. 
 If He send death into our families, and take from us the 
 objects of our tenderest affection, the children of our 
 love, the first-born of our strength, the hope of our de- 
 clining years, oh how hard is it often for our unwilling 
 hearts to submit and to say thy will he done. But the 
 language of God to us on such occasions is, " Be still 
 and know that I am God." Murmur not under the 
 severe and painful stroke. Submit your wills to my 
 will. Know that I am God, a holy, A'ise, and sove- 
 reign God; that I have an absolute right to dispose of 
 the creatures that I have made, to lift up or to cast 
 down, to kill or to make alive. This is the import of 
 the words before us, whether we consider them sepa- 
 rately, or in connection with the passage in which they 
 are found. 
 
 In view of the destruction which God would bring 
 upon the nations that should oppose the rising glory of 
 his church, the Psalmist proclaims, " Come behold the 
 works of the Lord, what desolations he hath made in 
 the earth. He maketh wars to cease to the end of the 
 earth. He breaketh the bow and cutteth the spear in 
 sunder. He burneth the chariot in the fire. Be still 
 and know that I am God. I will be exalted among 
 22* 
 
250 DUTY OF SUBMISSION. 
 
 the heathen. I will be exalted in the earth." As if 
 he had said, neither murmur nor despond, when you 
 shall see my power displayed in these signal and awful 
 events, but silently adore the hand which sways the 
 sceptre of universal dominion, and remember that I 
 w^ll be exalted before all the people gloriously. 
 
 My design on the present mournful occasion is to ex- 
 plain and recommend the duty of resignation to the 
 divine will. 
 
 I. Let me call your attention, my dear brethren, in 
 the first place, to the nature of this duty. 
 
 To be resigned to the will of God under the afflic- 
 tive dispensations of his providence, does not imply a 
 stoical insensibility. We are capable of feeling, and 
 God designs we shall feel, when He lays his rod upon 
 us. To remain unaffected by the rebukes of his pro- 
 vidence, would be to despise the chastenings of the 
 Lord, against which we are particularly and solemnly 
 cautioned in the scriptures. We may lawfully weep 
 over our departed friends, provided we do not weep, as 
 those who are dissatisfied with the will of God. Jesus 
 wept at the grave of Lazarus, and mingled his tears 
 with those of Martha and Mary on that sorrowful oc- 
 casion. But though the sensibilities of our nature may 
 be indulged, we should be on our guard, lest they be 
 carried to excess. We should not suffer them to waste 
 our spirits and unfit us for the serious duties of life, 
 and, much less, to stir up in our hearts hard and inju- 
 rious thoughts of God's government. 
 
 The duty of resignation is happily expressed, in the 
 words before us, by being still and knowing that the 
 
DUTY OF SUBMISSION. 251 
 
 Lord is God; expressions which imply, that all the 
 passions of the soul are hushed into a sweet and silent 
 submission before the throne of the King eternal. 
 
 In the scriptures resignation to God is often described 
 in this manner. David says, on one occasion, " I was 
 dumb and opened not my mouth, because thou didst it;" 
 and, on another, " Surely I have behaved and quieted 
 myself as a child that is weaned of his mother, my 
 soul is even as a weaned child." Aaron's submission, 
 at the death of his two sons, who died in their sins be- 
 fore the Lord, is expressed by holding his peace. 
 
 In conformity with this language, we may be said to 
 be still when our wills correspond with God's will, or 
 w^hen our affections and desires move in unison with 
 his. God moves on in the great purposes of his go- 
 vernment with a power, which nothing can resist and 
 nothing retard. We move with Him, when we re- 
 joice in his universal government, and are willing He 
 should do all his pleasure. At the same time, it may 
 be said that we are at rest, with respect to God, when 
 our desires correspond with his, just as the objects 
 upon the surface of the earth are at rest, with respect to 
 the earth itself, when they move with it, or correspond 
 with its motions. 
 
 Let me further remark, that true submission to God's 
 will is a cheerful and unreserved submission. 
 
 It is, in the first place, a cheerful submission in op- 
 position to force or constraint. We may yield to the 
 dispensations of providence, as a matter of prudence, 
 when we know it is in vain to contend with them. 
 We may feel in a degree resigned to our condition 
 
252 DUTY OF SUBMISSION. 
 
 when we perceive it is wholly out of our power to 
 control or alter it. This, however, is only a forced 
 submission. The heart would still contend, if there 
 were any hope of success. A cheerful submission to 
 God's will is widely different from this. Here the 
 heart resigns itself and all its interests into God's hand, 
 not so much, because it would be vain to contend with 
 Him, as because it would be unreasonable. It regards 
 not necessity but duty. It rejoices in God because He 
 does right, and can do no wrong. This is the leading 
 principle, and the grand characteristic of true submis- 
 sion. 
 
 We remarked also, that it is unreserved, in distinc- 
 tion from that selfish spirit which seeks to make terms 
 with God. 
 
 A heart truly resigned to the divine will does not 
 say, Lord, I am willing to endure this affliction, pro- 
 vided it may be sanctified to me, and terminate in my 
 salvation; Lord, I am willing thou shouldst remove 
 this dear friend, or that beloved child, provided he may 
 enter into thy rest. In a subordinate view^, these things 
 may be allowed to have a place in a mind resigned to 
 the will of God; but they can never be the primary 
 ground of that resignation. It is our duty to submit to 
 God, because we are his creatures, and he has an un- 
 qualified right to us and to all which appertains to us. 
 It is our duty, because he is governed by unerring wis- 
 dom, as well as by boundless goodness, in all his dis- 
 pensations, and our duty in this case, will be the same, 
 whether we or our particular friends be made happy or 
 not. 
 
DUTY OF SUBMISSION. 253 
 
 II. Let us in the second place, attend to some of the 
 considerations, by which this duty is recommended. 
 
 1. Shall it be said, that God does nothing but what 
 is just and equal in the dispensations of his providence, 
 and that therefore we ought to submit to Him? It is 
 an unquestionable truth that, however He may contra- 
 dict our wishes, He will never trespass upon our rights. 
 The rights of his creatures are as sacred to Him as his 
 own. He may deprive them of many comforts, He may 
 take from them many dear friends; still He wrongs 
 them not. He takes but what He gave. These are but 
 lent favours, the absolute right to them He reserves in 
 his own power. 
 
 This circumstance should prevent our murmuring 
 against his holy providence, how^ever distressing the 
 privations He may bring upon us. The language of 
 our hearts should be. Righteous art thou O Lord when 
 thou speakest and clear when thou judgest. Thou hast 
 smitten and laid us low, but thy justice is not hereby 
 impeached. Thou hast dried up streams very sweet 
 and refreshing to us; but they were streams poured 
 from thine own fountain. It is just they should return 
 to thee again. 
 
 2. We should reflect, moreover, that as God has done 
 nothing in our affliction but what He had a right to do, 
 so He has done nothing but what was wisest and best. 
 
 He always acts under the direction of infinite w is- 
 dom and love, and aims at some high and glorious end. 
 Nothing falls out by chance with Him; nothing which 
 in the eternal counsels of his wisdom He did not pre- 
 ordain. Why then should we not cheerfully submit to 
 
254 DUTY OF SUBMISSION. 
 
 the trials which He has appointed? Do we wish God 
 to be less wise or less good, or that his eternal purposes 
 should be overthrown ? 
 
 But our unbelieving hearts are ready to reply, where 
 is the wisdom of these dark and trying dispensations? 
 The wheels of his providence move high and dreadful. 
 They astonish, they terrify us. 
 
 True, my brethren, but these w^heels are full of eyes. 
 Whether they go forward or backward, they move 
 w-ith specific and unerring purpose. It is not neces- 
 sary that we should know w^iat that purpose is. God 
 in mercy to us often conceals it, and requires us to 
 draw oi:r consolation, not from any knowledge we have 
 of the particular reasons of his dispensations, but from 
 our assurance of his unbounded wisdom and goodness. 
 
 What more rational motives can w^e have for sub- 
 mission to God's will, under the calamities with which 
 He visits us? W^hat greater consolation than to know 
 that He reigns in infinite wisdom and love, and that 
 every event shall be made to contribute to his glory 
 and to the best good of those who trust in Him? 
 How astonishing is it, that with this truth in view, our 
 hearts should ever mumur or despond! 
 
 3. I offer another reason for submission to God's 
 will under the bereavements to which his providence 
 subjects us. I mean their merciful tendency and de- 
 sign with respect to ourselves. 
 
 The afflictions of the present life are, for the most 
 part, but a wise and fatherly discipline, intended to 
 correct our follies and to recover us to a sense of duty. 
 Like prodigal children, w^e have gone away from our 
 
DUTY OF SUBMISSION. 255 
 
 Father's house, and the rod and the reproof are neces- 
 sary to bring us back again. God in tender mercy to 
 us therefore rebukes us, and though his rebukes are 
 often terrible, they are never ill-timed nor out of mea- 
 sure. This circumstance should lead us cheerfully to 
 acquiesce in the chastisements with which He is pleased 
 to exercise us. It is thus the Apostle reasons with the 
 converted Hebrews under their peculiar sufferings. 
 " We have had fathers of our flesh who corrected us, and 
 we gave them reverence; shall w^e not much rather be 
 in subjection to the Father of spirits and live? They 
 verily chastened us a few days after their own plea- 
 sure; but He for our profit, that w^e might be made 
 partakers of his holiness. Now no chastening for the 
 present is joyous but grievous, nevertheless afterward 
 it yieldeth the peaceable fruits of righteousness to those 
 that are exercised thereby. Wherefore lift up the 
 hands that hang down, and the feeble knees." 
 
 4. Let me say as a farther inducement for submis- 
 sion to God's will under trials, that this is the only 
 way to obtain immediate and effectual consolation and 
 support? When we are satisfied that the Lord has 
 done right, and feel willing that He should dispose of 
 us and every thing dear to us as it seemeth good in his 
 sight; that He should kill and make alive, wound and 
 heal at his pleasure, we have reached a point where 
 no earthly affliction can overwhelm us; we are come 
 too near to God himself, the ocean of felicity, to feel 
 very sensibly the loss of any earthly good. Oh, my 
 weeping and mourning friends, if you can take sanc- 
 uary here, at the footstool of a righteous and sove- 
 
256 DlfTY OF SUBMISSION. 
 
 reign God, your afflictions will soon become light af- 
 flictions, and your sorrow be turned into joy. It is 
 God, we read, who comforteth those that are cast 
 dowm, and his comforts are like himself, great and 
 wonderlul. He can astonish us as much by the tran- 
 quility He spreads over our minds, in days of calamity 
 and rebuke, as by the sudden and dreadful changes 
 which take place in the course of his providence. He 
 can make us not only joyful, but exceedingly joyful in 
 all our tribulation. 
 
 How many of God's people have stood amazed in 
 the time of their affliction, to find the Lord such a re- 
 fuge, such a present help in time of trouble. " The 
 floods have lifted up their voice, the floods lift up their 
 waves, but the Lord on high is mightier than the noise 
 of many waters, yea than the mighty weaves of the 
 sea." 
 
 5. Finally, if the Lord has given us comfortable 
 hopes that our departed friends have exchanged the 
 sins and sorrows of this miserable world for an eternal 
 rest in Heaven, is there nothing here to reconcile us to 
 their death? Embarked with us on a stormy and pe- 
 rilous sea, they have reached their destined port before 
 us, and shall we mourn on this account? Could we 
 wish to see them driven back in their course, and made 
 to conflict with the rough winds and merciless waves 
 again? Has the gracious Redeemer heard their pray- 
 ers, and given them to overcome and sit down with 
 him upon his throne, even as he has overcome and is 
 sat down with his Father upon his throne, and can we 
 desire to see them again subjected to the weakness, to 
 
DUTY OF SUBMISSrON. 257 
 
 the temptations, to the sins and sorrows of the present 
 life? What are all our hopes and expectations for 
 ourselves, but to finish our wearisome pilgrimage and 
 enter into the mansions of eternal rest and glory. But 
 alas, my brethren, we are afraid of being left alone by 
 the way. Like the disciples, who were afflicted at 
 the thought of being separated from their Master, 
 though he was going to Heaven to prepare a place for 
 them, we are often troubled when our beloved relatives 
 advance a few steps before us, and seize the crown of 
 life sooner than we expected. 
 
 Let us, however, comfort ourselves with the recol- 
 lection that they are gone before us, only to make our 
 way to Heaven the more easy, our progress towards it 
 the more rapid, and our entrance into it the more joy- 
 ful. It is but a little while and we shall follow them. 
 Our dust will soon mingle with their dust, and our 
 spirits join with their spirits. We shall meet them on 
 a deathless shore — meet them refined from the dross of 
 this world; and, oh, enrapturing thought! w^e shall 
 tread the fields of light and glory together. We shall 
 stand with them on Zion's everlasting hills, to look 
 back on the course we have held across this wilderness, 
 to converse of all the events which have befallen us 
 in our pilgrimage state, and to shout together in one 
 eternal song, the praises of Him, who loved us and 
 washed us in his own blood. What Christian's heart 
 does not burn within him at the prospect? Who that 
 hath a particle of hope in another world but must look 
 forward with joy to the moment, when he shall meet 
 23 
 
258 DUTY OF SUBMISSION. 
 
 the departed souls of his pious friends, with all the 
 spirits of just men made perfect? 
 
 But what shall be said, my dear brethren, of the dis- 
 tressing event, which has led us to these reflections? 
 Shall we say it has fallen out according to the pur- 
 poses of Heaven? Shall we say that an infinitely wise 
 God has in this case acted wisely; and an infinitely 
 kind and gracious God fulfilled the designs of his love 
 and mercy? What else can we say? God indeed 
 does not reveal to us the particular reasons of this dis- 
 pensation; but our duty is not the less plain. It be- 
 comes us to bow with holy resignation to his will, and 
 to say, the Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away, 
 blessed be the name of the Lord. 
 
 To us, the life of our dear young friend appeared 
 exceedingly important. Not to say what a treasure he 
 was to his parents and sisters, to whom he was endeared 
 by every circumstance which could make him lovely, 
 he was an object of great hope to the church of God. 
 Few young men of higher promise have appeared in 
 these days. With a sound and vigourous understanding, 
 with a soft and obliging temper, he possessed, as far as 
 human eyes can discern, all the reality and all the 
 lustre of the Christian virtues. His attainments in 
 science, and especially in that best of all sciences, reli- 
 gion, were such as to present the fairest prospect of his 
 being a distinguished luminary in the church of Christ, 
 to whose service he had publicly and solemnly devoted 
 himself. We had hoped that this rising star would 
 long continue to gladden us with its beams. But ah. 
 
DUTY OF SUBMISSION. 259 
 
 how suddenly has it disappeared! disappeared to us 
 only. It is gone to shine in other systems and to burn 
 in brighter skies. 
 
 God has affectingly taught us in this instance that 
 his ways are not as our ways, nor his thoughts as our 
 thoughts. He has called this amiable youth away in 
 the morning of his days, and, just at the very moment, 
 when the highest expectations were entertained of his 
 immediate and extensive usefulness. 
 
 The Lord's will is done, and why should we mourn? 
 This dear youth did not mourn for himself. He was 
 willing to depart and to be with Christ which is far better. 
 To one of his friends who watched his dying pillow, 
 he said. What a mercy will it be if the Lord thus early 
 shall call me home to himself. Not that he was im- 
 patient or wished to dictate concerning his own case, 
 he chose the will of the Lord should be done. 
 
 What greater consolation can we have in his death? 
 Fallen asleep in Christ, as we have every reason to 
 believe, his spirit has already joined the general assem- 
 bly of the church of the first born in Heaven — and can 
 his dearest friends on earth wish him to return? No, 
 I hear them say, Stay there happy spirit, the Lord hath 
 called thee, and the Lord hath need of thee. Who 
 knows but he may be employed as a ministering spirit, 
 or a guardian angel to those whom he loved? Who 
 can tell but he may be present in this assembly, or be 
 looking from the battlements above, to witness the 
 manner in which his departure affects the church and 
 congregation once so dear to him? Could he speak to 
 us, what would be his language? What would he say 
 
260 DUTY OF SUBMISSION. 
 
 to those bereaved relatives? Dry up your tears; for 
 me to live was Christ, but to die is gain. I am safely 
 landed on the immortal shores; I have reached the 
 bosom of Abraham and the paradise of God. Now I 
 see as I am seen; now I know as I am known. I have 
 exchanged the earthly for the heavenly sanctuary; the 
 songs of my fellow saints on earth, for the songs of the 
 redeemed in Heaven. Sin is gone; temptation is gone; 
 fear is gone; sorrow is gone; and all the former things 
 are passed away. Why mourn ye that my warfare is 
 accomplished, and my toils and dangers at an end? 
 Why weep ye that I have reached that better world 
 where weeping and lamentation are heard no more, 
 where all tears are forever wiped away. But this is 
 not his voice; his lips are sealed up in the silent grave, 
 you will hear him no more; you will see him no more, 
 till you have passed these borders of mortality, and are 
 yourselves ushered into the invisible and eternal world , 
 
 Call to mind, my dear brethren, what you can recol- 
 lect of his virtues. Imitate the meekness and the 
 gentleness of his spirit; and especially the simplicity 
 and the fervour of his prayers. God speaks loudly to 
 us all in this providence; he bids us hasten in our pre- 
 paration for death and eternity, seeing no degree of 
 w^orth can save us, when once the voice of the Eternal 
 Judge calls. 
 
 To you, my dear young friends, this is an unusually 
 solemn providence — and to you, above all others, who 
 have recently made profession of religion. One of the 
 most precious and distinguished of your number is gone, 
 gone to that world from whose sad bourne no traveller 
 
DUTY OF SUBMISSION. 261 
 
 returns. His dust lies mouldering in a land of stran- 
 gers; his spirit has returned to the God who gave it. 
 Are you prepared to follow him? Will you meet him 
 on the heavenly plains, when your spirits like his shall 
 be separated from their earthly tabernacles? He often 
 wished it, he often prayed for it ! May God of his in- 
 finite mercy send an answer to his prayers and prepare 
 you to meet him and to rejoice with him in the regions 
 of eternal bliss and glory. 
 
 23^ 
 
262 DUTY OF SUBMISSION. 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 The following extracts from letters written by gentlemen, who 
 were intimately acquainted with the deceased youth, alluded 
 to in the preceeding discourse, and some of whom were 
 near him in his last moments, furnish an honorable testi- 
 mony to his character, "and to the worth of that religion on 
 whose principles and hopes his character was formed. 
 
 Extracts of letters from the Rev. Dr. Griffin, to the parents of 
 Lends Le Conte Conger. 
 
 Boston, Januar}^ 6, 1810. 
 
 The Almighty God support you, my dear friends, under 
 the trial which you must sustain. I wish, with all my heart, 
 that I had any thing agreeable to communicate. And I have, 
 Jesus of Nazareth reigns! And our dear Lewis is happy! 
 Ah, my heart! why this aching and trembling! The will of 
 God is done. Lewis himself wished that the will of God 
 might be done ; and am I confident that he does not wish to 
 oppose it now. 
 
 It is with the deepest sympathy, my dear friends, that I an- 
 nounce to you an event which has filled our college with 
 tears, and spread a gloom over us all. . . . Professor 
 Woods in a letter which I have just received, says, "At 1 
 (5'clock this morning our very dear and promising friend died. 
 Our hopes of his recovery had, m the course of the week, 
 been several times raised. Many prayers have been offered ; 
 but the Saviour loved the dear youth, and chose thus early to 
 call him home." My heart aches and bleeds for you. By 
 ray own sorrows I know that yours must be extreme. I 
 never knew how to love him till since he left you ; and for a 
 few days past, I have felt that more of my earthly comfort 
 
APPENDIX. 2^^ 
 
 depended on him than I had been aware of. No young man 
 was ever more beloved. . . • He has not hved in vam. 
 He did not come to Andover in vain. Since he left Newark, 
 he has been the means of spiritual goodtosome; and by Ins 
 influence on the College, has probably been indirectly tlie 
 means of good to thousands. His parents have reason to 
 bless God that they were the means of bringing a son mto 
 the world to do so much good as he has done at Andover. 
 
 I am sensible of the aggravation of yom- ti-ial in not bemg 
 able to see him. I have felt this aggravation myself. Dunng 
 all the time that he has been considered dangerous, I have 
 been confined to my house by indisposition. I am still con- 
 fined, and cannot attend his funeral to-morrow. It is a com- 
 fort to me, however, to know that every thing has been done 
 for him that man could do; and that arrangements are made 
 to burv him with becoming respect. His dust will he m a 
 strange land; but mind notthat. It will not be lost nor over- 
 looked. It will be gathered and restored to him, and to you. 
 
 * * * * * * * =* * 
 I know not that I was ever tried so tenderly before. But we 
 must submit. May God support you and comfort you all. 
 Yours affectionately, 
 
 E. D. Griffin. 
 
 Boston, January 7. Sabbath evening. 
 This hour they are burying our dear child! and as I can 
 think of nothing else, I set myself down to commune with 
 his afflicted parents and sisters. No creature more dear to 
 me ever left this earth. I am thinking of his pleasant man- 
 ners, by which he soothed us on our journey, when we had 
 iu.t left at Newark a great proportion of our earthly comforts. 
 *; ^ * * * I am thinking of his attentions 
 to me in sickness ;-tlie affectionate sympathy, and mature 
 
 jndgment, by which ^e -be^^^^^^ T'^'T'''^;:^ 
 all mv anxieties since I left you. ., , ^ 
 
 summers how many objects will bring the dear youth fresh 
 
264 DUTY OF SUBMISSION. 
 
 to my thoughts ! And if his body be permitted to remain 
 there, I shall often with mournful pleasure visit his grave. Jt 
 will be a spot to me ever sacred and dear. Perhaps I and my 
 family shall yet sleep with him. 
 
 I have had some distressing thoughts about being the 
 means of taking him from Newark, and I suppose that you 
 may be tempted to say, if he had not left Newark, he would 
 not have died. But, my friends, it is all the appointment of 
 Heaven. Eternal wisdom fixed it that he should die at that 
 time and place ; and that you and I should weep under this 
 gi'eat loss. And gi-eat it is. Few parents ever lost more in 
 a single son. But consider, my dear friends, how many com- 
 forts you liave left You have two dear children: and they 
 have two dear parents. May you live long to be a mutual 
 comfort to each other. ##**##* 
 
 Think not, my dear fi-iends, that you have lost your pains 
 in giving your sou an education. You have been fitting him, 
 I believe, for more than a pulpit, for a higher throne in Heaven. 
 The expansion of mind which his education has given him, 
 will probably render him a more illustrious instrument of 
 God's glory, and make him a more capacious vessel, to contain 
 happiness, while the kingdom of God endures. You have 
 not lost any of your pains, nor any of your prayers for him. 
 Few parents have been so much honoured, as to raise up, and 
 send such a son to assist the praises of the assembly of the 
 first born. There I trust he is! Think not of him on a bed 
 of sickness, and in a land of strangers, — away from his parents 
 and sisters. Think of him in Mount Zion. There is all that 
 is Lewis. The rest is mere dust. We have not lost him. 
 He has only gone a little before us. Ten thousand worlds 
 I am persuaded, would not tempt him to return. There I 
 hope we shall soon find him, and enjoy him again, and for- 
 ever, — far better than we ever did in this world. * # * 
 
 It was indeed desirable to keep him with us a little longer. 
 But I now perceive that the days of God's power which we 
 have seen, were not so much intended to raise up comforts for 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 265 
 
 us in this world, or to fit men to preach the gospel, as to fit 
 souls for that eternal society to which we believe our dear 
 Lewis has gone. O! may my thoughts be more unloosed 
 from earth, and be more steadfastly fixed on that glorious 
 assembly of our fathers and brethren, which has been in- 
 creasing from the days of Adam. There I doubt not is 
 Lewis! There I trust, will soon be his parents and sisters, 
 and there I hope, soon to meet you all to part no more for- 
 ever. Blessed world! no death, no parting, no sorrow, no 
 sin ! Stay there dear child ! I would not entice thee if I could, 
 fi-om those regions of bliss, and glory. 
 
 You will wish to know every thing about him, in the latter 
 part of his life. When I saw him last he was well and happy. 
 He had engaged as one of the preceptors m the Academy ; 
 and came to me, (then at Andover,) to apologize for engaging 
 without waiting to consult me. He obsened with his usual 
 loveliness, that he had never been out of his mother's lap, 
 and thought he ought to do something to help support the ex- 
 penses of his education. As he received a liberal compen- 
 sation, I was not displeased. I left him with a charge to 
 come to Boston on the day of dedicating our new church, 
 which is to take place next Wednesday. We have been 
 looking forward to the pleasure of seeing him then ; but alas! 
 
 To resume the history,— he continued well till three 
 
 weeks ago last Thursday. And I know of nothing at An- 
 dover that occasioned his sickness. He appeared, at first, to 
 have a slow fever, but felt no alarm. He would not consent 
 to their alarming you : and they did not think proper to alarm 
 me. Indeed, they were not alarmed themselves, until the 
 Thursday or Friday of week before last. Several who rank 
 among the best physicians in the state were called to his as- 
 sistance as soon as danger was apprehended; and one to 
 whose children Lewis had been, as I trust, the means of 
 spiritual benefit, attended on him from the beginning. He is 
 a pious, careful, and skilful physician. Every thing was done 
 for him that could be done. His mind was very happy and 
 
266 DUTY OF SUBMISSION. 
 
 resigned, until he lost the use of his reason. He then had 
 the ordinary wildness and restlesness of such a state ; — and 
 so far as I am informed, died in that condition. Whatever 
 else I can learn that I judge will he interesting to you, you 
 shall hear. All that I can do more is to take care of the 
 books, and clothing, which the dear youth left hehind, and 
 settle his accounts. All this God willing, I will do, and give 
 you seasonable information. Mrs. Griffin weeps almost all 
 the time. She saj'S, she feels more for the family, than even 
 for the loss of him. She sends her kindest love and sympathy 
 to you all. I join with her in the tenderest condolence, and 
 in prayers that God may abundantly support you. 
 
 Your afflicted and affectionate friend, 
 
 E. D. Griffin. 
 
 Extracts of a letter from the Rev. L. Woods, to the parents of 
 Lewis Le Conte Congar. 
 Andover, January 21, 1810. Sabbath evening. 
 My respected and beloved friends : 
 
 It was my intention to write to you immediately after the 
 decease of your dear son ; but sickness in my family pre- 
 vented. I was the less anxious about writing, because I knew 
 you would receive letters from several here, who have the 
 pleasure of knowing you, and are therefore better qualified to 
 address you than I am. But I cannot, even at this late period, 
 deny myself the mournful satisfaction of writing to you, 
 though I must write in haste. Your dear Lewis was chiefly 
 employed in those studies which belong to my department 
 I had thus the bestopportunity of being intimately acquainted 
 with him. And I cannot help saying that I conceive you 
 highly privileged in being the parents of such a son. He 
 was one in whom you could rejoice while he lived, and when 
 he died. Yes, mourning parents, your joy must rise above 
 your sorrow. I know you could not have been more tenderly 
 afflicted. My heart has been ready to melt when viewing 
 
APPENDIX. 267 
 
 your bereavement and all the circumstances attending it. But 
 to think of a beloved child, who sleeps in Jesus; who lived 
 long enough to be prepared for a better life; long enough 
 to give the most amiable proof of being born again, and 
 yet not long enough to know many of the troubles of 
 life, or many of the trials and difficulties of religion ; se- 
 parated from sin and sorrow ; gone from affectionate earthly 
 parents, to one infinitely more affectionate in Heaven ; gone 
 from the darkness and distance of this world, to the light and 
 joy of paradise. To think of this, must kindle raptures in 
 your hearts in the midst of your grief. The early death of 
 your Son, was doubtless a mark of God's peculiar love. 
 Christ desired and prayed, that all his people might be with 
 him. It was, I trust, because he loved your son with a peculiar 
 love, that he chose so soon to call him home. It is a great 
 loss to you, and to me, and to the churches, but it is a greater 
 gain to him, and gain also to the church in Heaven. His use- 
 fulness is not diminished, but increased by his removal. He 
 began to do good here. But he is gone to a higher sphere of 
 action and enjoyment. Thoughts like these are not new to you. 
 I doubt not you have had much comfort in such reflections. 
 If so, you will delight to repeat them often. 
 
 Your son was an ornament to this Seminary. His genius 
 was distinguished, and his manners uncommonly amiable. 
 
 But his work was done, and the glorious Redeemer chose to 
 call him home to himself. Sorrowing parents, I mourn with 
 
 •«T|^II ^ Hv^ ■9F^ tF tF ^ ^ ^ ^ 
 
 Our beloved Lewis is no more. It is our duty to be still, and 
 say with all the heart, " the will of the Lord be done." How 
 wonderful, how mysterious God's ways! He sent your son to 
 this place, that he might be a blessing to this infant seminary, 
 and to this people a little while, and then die. He was useful 
 by his life, and we hope will be useful by his death. * * 
 
 I trust my dear friends, that you know the grace of God, 
 and have learned the duty and experienced the comforts of 
 
268 DUTY OF SUBMISSION. 
 
 submission. May he teach you to sorrow in a godly manner. 
 Trust in Jiim, cast all your cares on him, and lie will sustain 
 you. He will never leave you, never, never forsake you. The 
 Lord cause his face to shine upon you, and upon your sur- 
 viving children. Accept with them my most tender con- 
 dolence, and my devout wishes for your support and consola- 
 tion. 
 
 I am your sincere friend and servant, 
 
 Leonard Woods. 
 
 The particular state of Mr. Cougar's mind during his sickness, is 
 thus detailed hy a friend, ivho was with him till his death. 
 
 A long time did not elapse between the time when he was 
 first considered dangerous, and the time when he began to 
 lose his reason — his words tlierefore, which I wrote down at 
 
 the time, were few. During the first part of his sickness, 
 
 his principal concern was, — lest he should be impatient — and 
 his principal request, that his friends would pray for his re- 
 covery, but especially that God would give him patience and 
 resignation, that he might not cast a reproach on the cause. 
 He would say, " Since I am so unable to pray, you must pray 
 for me, and request my friends also." His desire God was 
 pleased to grant in a very distinguishing manner. We found 
 it difficult to learn his feelings, because he would not com- 
 plain. The fij-st thing which indicated that he expected to 
 die, was the following request to me. " You know the sermon 
 I have been writing on trusting in God. Though it is in a 
 veiy unfinished and imperfect state, I wish you would ask 
 Doctor Griffin to arrange it, and send it home to my parents; 
 it may be some comfort to them. 
 
 On Friday night, a week before he died, being asked 
 whether he wished to see company, he replied, I shall be 
 glad to see some whose faces will refresh me, though I can 
 not talk to them. Saturday was his last rational day, and his 
 happiest day. In the morning he said to me, I think it would 
 
APPENDIX. 269 
 
 be a wonder if I should get well of this fever ; don't you 
 think so? I replied, do you think much of dying? He 
 answered, some. How does it appear to you ? Very solemn : 
 I have lived a very unprofitable life to die upon ; I do not 
 know but God intends to take me away. If so I hope he 
 will prepare me. It is a great tiling to change worlds, and 
 go into the immediate presence of God. But a happy thing 
 — happy for those who have an interest in Christ, and who 
 
 will enter into his eternal Oh how precious is Christ ! I 
 
 think I should be glad to spend an eternity with him. I think 
 I long for the enjoyments of Heaven — for the purity and 
 holiness of the Heavenly state. I am a poor worthless crea- 
 ture : but I hope that Christ will support me, and take me to 
 himself. If I may sit in the lowest place at his feet and gaze 
 upon the beauties of his face, it is enough for me. When 
 the light of Heaven first broke upon my soul, I think I took 
 Christ for my all in all ; and now he must be all in all. I 
 think I do love Christ. (Saturday fore-noon) I said to hun, 
 
 you feel weak, dont you? Yes, but Christ is and I 
 
 commit myself to him — this glorious exchange — if it were 
 not for these truths I must sink in despair. About noon he 
 said, I have enjoyed the great truths of the gospel very much 
 to day — I feel happy that I am in the hands of God. One of 
 his friends said to him, can you testify to the preciousness of 
 Christ? Yes I can. In the evening I said to him, how does 
 your mind feel now? I feel composed and happy. I have 
 given myself up to God to carry me through this fever just as 
 He pleases. Late on Saturday evening he asked me which is 
 the sweetest part of the Bible ? He answered, there are many- 
 sweet parts. There is a grand description of the character 
 of God — the Lord, the Lord God Almighty — no how is it? 
 The passage was then repeated to him. He replied, the 
 character of God is amiable, excellent, all perfection. On 
 Sunday morning, he said, it seems to refresh me to see the 
 morning once more. One of his friends standing by his bed, 
 he said to him, brother, I am a little composed — I have views 
 
 24 
 
270 DUTY OF SUBMISSION. APPENDIX. 
 
 of Chi'ist that are affecting. Afterwards in a broken manner, 
 he dictated a note for pubhc prayers, in which he particularly 
 requested prayers for the presence of God and for support 
 thi-ough his great ti-ial. After this his reason gradually failed 
 till he was entu-ely deranged, in which state he continued, 
 except at one small interval, in which he expressed a solici- 
 tude about my health, and repeated his request respecting the 
 sermon before mentioned. His death was apparently easy. 
 He appeared to fall into a sleep from which we could not 
 awake him. O my brother, my brother, I could almost say, 
 would to God I had died for thee. 
 
 Yours &c., 
 
 A. JuDsoN, Jr. 
 
SERMON XV.^ 
 
 THE SPIRIT OF PAUL THE SPIRIT OF MISSIONS. 
 
 EPHESIANS III., 8. 
 
 " JJjito me, who am less than the least of all saints, is this grace 
 given, that I should preach among the Gentiles the unsearchable 
 riches of Christ." 
 
 St. Paul was equally remarkable for the depth of his 
 humility, and for the ardour of his zeal. From the 
 first moment of his conversion to the latest period of his 
 life, he seems never to have forgotten that he had been 
 a persecutor of the name of Jesus. The remembrance 
 of his former character laid him low before God, while 
 it inspired him with an earnest desire to live worthy of 
 the grace by which he had been distinguished. Having 
 himself tasted the riches of God's mercy in the pardon 
 of sin and the hopes of eternal life, he wished to be the 
 joyful minister of the same grace to others, and to carry 
 the glad tidings of peace and salvation to the ends of 
 the earth. 
 
 Fitted to this great work by many natural and spirit- 
 ual qualifications, he engaged in it with an ardour, 
 
 * A sermon preached at New Haven, Conn., before the Ameri- 
 can Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions, at their annual 
 meeting, Sept. 15, 1814. 
 
272 THE SPIRIT OF PAUL 
 
 which no watchings and fastings, no labours and suffer- 
 ings could overcome. From Jerusalem he passed into 
 Syria, thence into Arabia — into Asia Minor — into 
 Macedonia and other parts of Greece. Widely ex- 
 tended regions of the globe were traversed by him, 
 sometimes on foot, sometimes alone, while continually 
 exposed to the severest hardships and perils. Wherever 
 he went, he was deemed an enthusiast, or a mad-man, 
 a disturber of the public peace, an enemy to mankind. 
 " But none of these things moved him, neither counted 
 he his life dear unto himself, if he might finish his course 
 with joy, and the ministry which he had received of 
 the Lord Jesus." He felt the importance of his mission, 
 and the grandeur of his own destiny. He bore about 
 the dying of the Lord Jesus; he carried with him the 
 treasures of everlasting wisdom and mercy. Despising 
 the gains and the glory of the present world, his heart 
 w^as strongly fixed on procuring for himself and for 
 others the blessings of eternal life. 
 
 God had especially designated him to this work, and 
 declared him a " chosen vessel to bear his name before 
 the Gentiles;" and though his labours were abundant, 
 and his successes unrivalled; though multitudes in 
 various portions of the heathen world were brought to 
 the knowledge of the truth through his instrumentality; 
 still his humility did not forsake him; he could retrace 
 the labours and sufferings of a glorious life, without 
 indulging in the emotions of pride and vanity; he could 
 look upon the hundreds and thousands he had converted 
 from paganism, and yet say, " Unto me, w^ho am less 
 than the least of all saints, is this grace given, that I 
 
THE SPIRIT OF MISSIONS. 273 
 
 should preach among the Gentiles the unsearchable 
 riches of Christ." 
 
 He did not doubt of his being a saint: but he felt 
 himself to be the least of all saints because he had per- 
 secuted the church of God, and because he still lived so 
 far beneath his privileges and obligations. That he 
 should be called to preach the Gospel to the heathen, 
 he considered as an instance of amazing condescension 
 and mercy; and to this great and good work he made 
 a cheerful and unreserved consecration of all his powers. 
 
 Where, my brethren, can we find an example more 
 worthy of our imitation.? Where can we learn so 
 much of that spirit, which ought to breathe in all our 
 hearts, while we are endeavoring to spread the know- 
 ledge of Christ in the pagan world? We behold in 
 this man a missionary indeed; one who is borne above 
 those worldly and selfish interests, which too often 
 contract our minds and paralyze our exertions. We 
 see him engaging in a service the most noble, the most 
 arduous, and continuing in it through all diflSculties and 
 discouragements, with unabated resolution to the end. 
 How happy would it be for us, could we light our fires 
 at his altar, and feel something of that pure and 
 heavenly flame which burned in his bosom. 
 
 It is intended in the following discourse to present 
 to you more distinctly, some of the principles and mo- 
 tives which directed and animated the apostle in carry- 
 ing the gospel to the heathen world, and which ought 
 no less powerfully to direct and animate us. 
 
 I. I begin by observing, that the apostle entered 
 upon this service with a deep impression of the infinite 
 24* 
 
274 THE SPIRIT OF PAUL 
 
 worth of the gospel. It was to him " the unsearchable 
 riches of Christ." 
 
 Time was when he was blind to the glory of a cru- 
 cified Saviour, when Christ appeared to him as to his 
 countrymen generally, " a root out of a dry ground,"" 
 in which was to be seen neither " form nor comeliness." 
 Nay, he felt a deep hostility to Christ, and persecuted 
 his followers to prison and to death. But the Lord, 
 even Jesus, had met him in the way, and had spoken 
 to him with a voice of power and majesty, which he 
 could no longer resist. A glorious light from Heaven 
 shone round about him, the emblem of a more glorious 
 light, which shone into his soul, and which forever 
 darkened the lustre of all terrestrial things. Now the 
 gospel of Christ appeared to him the " glorious gospel 
 of the blessed God" — full of wisdom — full of mercy — 
 full of power — forming a scheme in which all the 
 divine attributes harmonize and shine forth with unut- 
 terable splendour. His soul bows before the mysteries 
 of a God incarnate — before the wonders of a Saviour 
 crucified and raised again from the dead. The cross of 
 Christ, a stumbling block before, is henceforth his boast 
 and his glory. There his own guilty soul has found 
 relief — there his foulest stains have been washed away. 
 Was it surprising that his heart should be absorbed and 
 even transported with such an object, and that he should 
 feel it to be the glory of his life to unfold its riches and 
 its beauty among the Gentiles? Especially when you 
 reflect that he considered the know^ledge of Christ and 
 his cross as essential to their salvation. He did not 
 believe that men were thronging the way to Heaven 
 
THE SPIRIT OF MISSIONS. 276 
 
 involved in the ignorance and stained with the crimes 
 of idolatry. He looked upon the whole heathen w^orld, 
 as without God, and without hope; sitting in the region 
 of darkness and shadow of death; and he declares the 
 object of his ministry to be " to turn many from dark- 
 ness to light, and from the powder of Satan unto God." 
 Here was the spring of his zeal in preaching the gospel, 
 in regions where " Christ was not known." 
 
 If he had regarded the gospel merely in the light of 
 a good religion, and on the whole perhaps the best 
 religion in the world, you would not have seen him 
 braving all dangers, and encountering every hardship, 
 to spread the knowledge of its sacred truths among the 
 nations. He would have left them, as many boasting 
 philanthropists have done, to enjoy their superstitions, 
 in the fond hope that they might find their way to the 
 abodes of future happiness, though undirected by the 
 light of the gospel. But the fact with him w^as quite 
 otherwise. He considered the gospel as an indispensa- 
 ble mean of eternal life — that they who heard it and 
 believed, would be saved, and that they who heard it 
 not, or did not believe, would inevitably perish. 
 
 Such impressions of the gospel prepared him to act 
 as a missionary of the cross, and laid a foundation for 
 his persevering endeavours to spread the knowledge of 
 divine truth in every part of the world. 
 
 Our impressions of the gospel must be of the same 
 character, if we would embark in the cause of missions 
 with any hope of success. If we have yet to learn, that 
 the gospel of Christ is the glorious gospel of the blessed 
 God, exhibiting a bright assemblage of all the divine 
 
276 THE SPIRIT OF PAUL 
 
 perfections, and containing in its provisions all that is 
 requisite to make us happy through time and eternity, 
 we know nothing yet as we ought to know, and are not 
 prepared so much as to begin our work. May I not 
 say indeed, that unless we are firmly persuaded that the 
 gospel is the only appointed means of salvation, and 
 that men will perish who die without its light, we shall 
 never do any thing in the cause of missions worthy of 
 its object. It is a question, therefore, which deeply 
 concerns us all. Have we right impressions of the gos- 
 pel? Does it appear to us, as it did to St. Paul, to be 
 the unsearchable riches of Christ? Has the glory of 
 this world faded away in comparison of its excellence? 
 And can we say with the apostle, that we count all 
 things as loss, for the excellency of the knowledge of 
 Christ Jesus our Lord?" Then shall we compassionate 
 the heathen, who are without this knowledge; and be 
 ready to perform any labours, or to make any sacrifices, 
 w^hich are necessary, to spread the knowledge of Christ 
 among them. 
 
 This will lead me to remark, 
 
 II. That the apostle entered upon the great work of 
 evangelizing the heathen, with the strongest convic- 
 tions of duty. He had no doubt that he was called of 
 God to preach the gospel to the Gentiles. The divine 
 Saviour had " stood by him in a vision at Jerusalem, 
 and bid him depart out of Judea, because they w^ould not 
 receive his testimony, saying, I will send thee far hence 
 among the Gentiles." His conviction was complete, 
 his obedience prompt and exemplary. He w aited for 
 no human counsels — for no combination of human 
 
THE SPIRIT OF MISSIONS. 277 
 
 strength. " As soon as it pleased God to reveal his 
 Son in him, that he should preach him among the 
 heathen, immediately he conferred not with flesh and 
 blood; neither went he up to Jerusalem to them that 
 were apostles before him; but he went into Arabia and 
 returned again to Damascus." The single circum- 
 stance, that Jesus Christ had commanded, was enough. 
 This was paramount to every other consideration. 
 Mountains of difficulty were instantly removed, or to- 
 tally disregarded. Armed only with the w^ord of truth 
 and the power of the Holy Ghost, he sallied forth into 
 the heathen world, prepaied to contend with ignorance, 
 with superstition, with the pride of philosophy, the 
 madness of ambition, the hatred and violence of lust: 
 in short, with all that a corrupted world, instigated by 
 the subtlety and malice of Satan, could array against 
 him. We do not propose him as our example, in all 
 these respects, and without any limitation; for as his 
 commission w^as extraordinary and special, so also w^as 
 the path in which he w^as led. But we desire you to 
 bear it distinctly in mind, that it was under a strong 
 conviction of duty, that he commenced his arduous 
 work; and that it was this, which kept him firm and 
 steady in his course, while at all times it supplied him 
 with the testimony of a good conscience, and enabled 
 him cheerfully to commit the event of his labours to 
 God. 
 
 There is at least an equal necessity that we should 
 act under a strong sense of duty, in attempting to es- 
 tablish the gospel among the heathen. For if we lack 
 conviction on this point, our exertions will be feeble. 
 
278 THE SPIRIT OF PAUL 
 
 unsteady, and probably of short duration. How, then, 
 let me ask, ought this question to be viewed by us? 
 Is there any room to doubt whether we are called to 
 bear a part in the attempts, which are now making 
 among Christian nations, to send the gospel to the be- 
 nighted pagans? 
 
 We know it was the command of the risen Saviour 
 to his disciples, " Go ye into all the world, and 
 preach the gospel to every creature;" but from the 
 nature of the case, it is manifest that this command 
 could not be restricted to the disciples to whom it was 
 first given. Here was a work too mighty to be per- 
 formed by a few persons in one generation. We must 
 consider the command as resting upon the apostles and 
 upon their successors in the ministry of reconciliation, 
 as is farther evident from the promise annexed to it, 
 "Lo! I am with you always, even to the end of the 
 world;" a promise reaching to every age of the church, 
 and showing us that the command, which is necessa- 
 rily coextensive with the promise, will never cease to be 
 obligatory, until all men are brought to the knowledge 
 of the truth, or until the ministry of reconciliation ends. 
 
 Besides, is it not our duty to pray for the salvation 
 of all men, and that because " God will have all men 
 to be saved and come to the knowledge of the truth?" 
 But what sincerity can there be in our prayers, where 
 there is not a corresponding endeavour to promote the 
 object which they contemplate? Can any man de- 
 ceive himself with the idea, that he longs for the sal- 
 vation of the heathen, and prays acceptably for that 
 object, while he is unwilling to put his hands to the 
 
THE SPIRIT OF MISSIONS. 279 
 
 work of missions, and while perhaps he cheapens the 
 labours of those who do? 
 
 Where, indeed, is the great law of benevolence, 
 which binds us to regard the interests of our fellow 
 men no less than our own; and their spiritual and im- 
 mortal interests certainly as well as their temporal. If 
 he is chargeable with the want of Christian charity 
 w^ho " seeth his brother have need of this w^orld's 
 goods, and shutteth up the bowels of his compassion 
 from him," what shall be said of one, who can look 
 upon the perishing heathen, lying under a load of guilt 
 and hastening, without the knowledge or benefit of a 
 Saviour, to the retributions of eternity, and yet feel no 
 generous sentiment glowing in his bosom; no desire 
 to carry the precious light of salvation to their benight- 
 ed land? 
 
 " True, it may be said; but then it must not be for- 
 gotten, that though the call for our benevolence is great, 
 yet the field for our active laboui^s is limited. We 
 must not desert our own churches to carry the gospel to 
 heathen lands — w^e must not neglect our own flesh and 
 blood, the people in our new and scattered settlements, 
 for the sake of transporting missionaries to distant 
 shores; where, before any reasonable hopes of success 
 can be entertained, new languages must be acquired, 
 long and inveterate habits overcome." 
 
 W^e are not backward, my brethren, to admit, that 
 the call for domestic missions is loud and solemn. There 
 are thousands in our frontier settlements, as well as in 
 the more interior parts of our country, whose case de- 
 mands our sympathy and exertion; not to mention the 
 
280 THE SPIRIT OF PAUL 
 
 unhappy and degraded people of colour in the southern 
 states, amounting to scarcely less than a million of 
 souls, and the numerous and wretched tribes of Indians 
 upon our borders. To all these it is our duty to turn 
 our attention, and to feel towards them that compassion 
 which Jesus felt for the multitudes in Judea, who were 
 as sheep scattered abroad having no shepherd. But is 
 this the whole of our duty? May we not, and ought 
 we not, to engage in foreign missions also, and send 
 the gospel to the benighted regions of Asia and Africa, 
 and to the islands of the Southern ocean? As to our 
 own people, though destitute, they are not absolutely 
 without the word of life, and the means of salvation. 
 They enjoy a kind of twilight, by means of the scatter- 
 ed beams of the Son of righteousness, which still fall 
 upon them. But with the heathen it is total darkness. 
 There is no day spring from on high to visit them; no 
 feeble ray from any distant star to shine upon their 
 dwellings. An awful night of gloom and terrour sur- 
 rounds them. Satan, the prince of darkness, holds 
 there a wide and dreadful reign. Thousands and tens 
 of thousands are yearly offered up as polluted and 
 bloody victims upon his altars, while millions added to 
 millions are enslaved by the false religions and cruel 
 rites of this destroyer of souls. Behold I from the 
 southern shores of India and Africa to the northern 
 boundaries of Tartary — from the eastern to the west- 
 ern limits of Asia — and what will you see, but one 
 vast assemblage of ignorance and superstition, casting 
 a thick and portentous darkness over these widely ex- 
 tended regions! With the exception of a small por- 
 
THE SPIRIT OF MISSIONS. 281 
 
 tion of Christians, making less perhaps than one fifti- 
 eth part of the whole, all, all are without hope and 
 without God in the world. What a vast multitude of 
 souls crowding their way, generation after generation, 
 down to the abodes of despair! What a deep and 
 broad river do they make as they pass along to the 
 ocean of eternity into which they fall — never to return. 
 Where is thy philanthropy, O Christians? Where thy 
 charity, kindled at the cross of a dying Saviour? 
 Canst thou sleep quietly over the destiny of millions 
 thus sunk in darkness and sin, w^ithout one effort to 
 rescue them from the horrours of their condition, with- 
 out so much as visiting their borders with the word of 
 God, the light of life in thy hands? 
 
 Besides, have we not apostolic example for the course 
 we recommend? Did the first ministers of Jesus wait 
 till they had converted all their own countrymen, be- 
 fore they ventui'ed abroad among the heathen? And 
 when they went to one nation, did they confine their 
 labours to them, till all were brought to the obedience 
 of faith? Did they not rather go from city to city, 
 and from one nation and kingdom to another, till they 
 had planted the gospel in every part of the known 
 w^orld? This was St. Paul's plan, most certainly. 
 And why should not this course be thought reasonable. 
 An earnest desire to send the gospel abroad will kin- 
 dle a purer and more ardent zeal for its propagation at 
 home. " Religion is that kind of commodity, that the 
 more you impart of it to others, the more you have 
 left behind." Nor is this difficult to comprehend. 
 The ;^ea], awakened by so glowing an object as a fo- 
 25 
 
282 THE SPIRIT OF PAUL 
 
 reign mission, cannot fail to diffuse itself through many 
 hearts, and be reproduced in the concern which it ex- 
 cites for the promotion of religion generally. It pre- 
 sents an interest, which is vast: it forms characters in 
 a high degree dignified and engaging. 
 
 I appeal to the noble and apostolic spirit of those 
 who have gone from our shores to carry the gospel to 
 India, and whose recent communications sufficiently 
 evince that neither their zeal nor their firmness have 
 been diminished, by the many trials they have endured. 
 I appeal to the memoirs of one who breathed out her 
 life on a distant shore, in the very morning of her days, 
 and upon the threshhcld of her mission. She did not 
 regret that she had left all for Christ, and that she had 
 testified her love to the heathen rather by what she de- 
 sired, than by what she was permitted to accomplish. 
 Her life and death, strongly marked as they were by 
 sentiments of the most exalted piety, will excite more 
 Christian feeling, and be productive of more devout 
 and ardent prayer for the extension of the Redeemer's 
 kingdom, than the lives and deaths of a hundred ordi- 
 nary Christians. Besides all this, a foreign mission 
 las a powerful tendency to narrow the differences and 
 destroy the little jealousies, which exist among Christ- 
 ians, while it enables them to act with union and 
 tigour in one great cause. 
 
 What has been the fact among those Christians, 
 who have embarked in foreign missions, both in Europe 
 and America. Have they not been the friends of do- 
 mestic missions also? So far as the knowledge of the 
 speaker has extended, the more liberally they have 
 
THE SPIRIT OF MISSIONS. 283 
 
 communicated to the wants of the heathen the more 
 generous have been their contributions, and the 
 more zealous their labours, to promote religion in their 
 own land. The truth is, those men who are for sending 
 the gospel to the miserable inhabitants of Asia and 
 Africa, at almost any hazard and expense, think a 
 great deal of religion. It is to them " the power of 
 God unto salvation." They regard it as the riches of 
 the world, and their own eternal inheritance. They 
 partake of the spirit of the primitive disciples, who 
 sold their worldly possessions, that they might the 
 more effectually communicate to the wants of the ne- 
 cessitous, and help forward the rising cause of Christ- 
 ianity. Can it be a matter of doubt, in these circum- 
 stances, whether we ought to cast in our lot with them, 
 and do what in us lies, to spread the knowledge of 
 Christ among the benighted nations? I see not how 
 we can forbear, without being chargeable with the 
 blood of the poor heathen who shall perish through 
 our neglect. They are suffering an awful famine, not 
 of bread nor of water, but of the word of the living 
 God; and if we will neither compassionate nor relieve 
 them, how can we avoid the guilt of their blood? A 
 thorough conviction of this fact would lay hold of the 
 strongest principles of action, and carry us resolutely 
 and steadily forward in the great w^ork which we have 
 begun. 
 
 III. I remark further, that the apostle engaged in 
 the design of propagating the gospel among the heathen, 
 not merely from a sense of duty, acting under the 
 command of Jesus Christ his rightful Lord and sove- 
 
284 
 
 THE SPIRIT OF PAUL 
 
 reign, but as an unspeakable honour and privilege. 
 " Unto me who am less than the least of all saints is 
 this grace given, that I should preach among the 
 Gentiles the unsearchable riches of Christ." He felt 
 himself exalted by the office, which he sustained as a 
 preacher among the heathen, his preeminent talents 
 and gifts notwithstanding. It never entered his heart 
 that his uncommon powers of mind, and his extensive 
 acquaintance with human science, placed him beyond 
 the humble occupation of a missionary to the pagans. 
 This is the more remarkable, when you look at the 
 circumstances under which his ministry was exercised. 
 What was his ministry, brethren! Not like that 
 w^hich falls to many of the ambassadors of peace in 
 later times, where every desire is anticipated — where 
 honour instead of reproach is the reward of talents 
 and virtue. His was a ministry of suffering and want, 
 of shame and dishonour. He was called to go through 
 evil report as well as good report; to be held as a de- 
 ceiver and impostor w^hile he was honestly labouring 
 for the best interests of mankind. He could tell of 
 journeyings often, of fastings often, of hungering and 
 thirst, of cold and nakedness; of perils in the wilder- 
 ness, of perils in the sea — of perils by his own country- 
 men; of perils by the heathen; of perils among false 
 brethren; and yet he never complained that his sacri- 
 fices were great or his work humiliating. Amidst all 
 this scene of labour and suffering, he felt himself an 
 unspeakable debtor to divine grace, that he " was al- 
 lowed of God to be put in trust with the gospel," and 
 to preach its saving truths among the heathen. 
 
THE SPIRIT OF MISSIOT^S. 285 
 
 Such a spirit, my brethren, must we possess, if we 
 would labour successfully in the missionary cause. 
 If it be the impulse of reason, or conscience, only that 
 w-e feel, we shall lack an essential part of the apostle's 
 temper. If we have not indeed such exalted views of 
 the gospel itself— such a love to the Lord Jesus Christ, 
 its glorious author, and such a tender concern for the 
 salvation of the heathen, as to make us feel it to be an 
 honour and privilege to put our hands to this work, 
 in however humble a manner, we shall do nothing 
 worthy of the cause: we shall only give another proof 
 to the world, how little we believe our own religion, 
 and how little its benevolent spirit has been transfused 
 into our hearts. But w^here is the man that has him- 
 self tasted the love of a dying Saviour, who does not 
 feel it to be a privilege to unite with him in seeking 
 the salvation of a lost world? Where is the man that 
 has found a place of safety for his own soul, who does 
 not burn with a holy zeal to point his perishing fellow 
 mortals to the same refuge? 
 
 It is a privilege of no mean character to become the 
 benefactors of others, in things pertaining to this life. 
 All who have made the experiment have found that 
 even here, " it is more blessed to give than to receive." 
 How honourable then the employment, how noble 
 the privilege, to contribute to the eternal happiness of 
 our fellow beings — to become coworkers with God in 
 the matter of their salvation; to be instruments of 
 rearing eternal monuments of praise to him in a future 
 
 world? 
 
 We celebrate the benevolence of a man, who ex- 
 25* 
 
286 THE SPIRIT OF PAUL 
 
 poses his life to save another from a watery grave; or 
 who visits the dungeon to find the objects of his com- 
 passion, and to administer relief to the lonely sufferer, 
 dying of want or disease. But how much more ex- 
 alted his charity, who forsakes his kindred and his 
 native land forever, to explore distant and inhospitable 
 regions in quest of sinners, immersed in ignorance and 
 superstition, and wallowing in the mire of sensuality: 
 his charity, who is willing to undergo every hardship, 
 and to sustain every trial, in erecting the banners of 
 the cross among the benighted heathen. 
 
 To take the least share in this work, whether by 
 our counsels or our prayers, or if it be only by con- 
 tributing a humble pittance to the support of those 
 w^ho are more immediately and actively engaged, is 
 an honour worth living for, and for which every good 
 man will be thankful through eternity. 
 
 IV. Shall I observe in the fourth place, that though 
 St. Paul esteemed it his highest honour to be instru- 
 mental in spreading the gospel among the heathen, 
 yet he did not seek his own glory in this work. 
 
 It was not for the purpose of approving himself to 
 his best friends, and much less for the sake of trans- 
 mitting his name with honour to posterity, that he 
 embarked in an undertaking so full of peril, and 
 fraught with interests of such amazing magnitude. 
 "Neither of men sought we glory," says he to the 
 Corinthians, " nor yet of you. We preach not our- 
 selves, but Jesus Christ the Lord, and ourselves your 
 servants for Jesus's sake."' This was a strong and dis- 
 tinctive feature in his character, as a missionary of the 
 
THD SPIRIT OF MISSIONS.* 287 
 
 cross. This imparted to him a firmness and elevation 
 of mind, which rendered him superior to corruption 
 and versatility. His pole star being neither human 
 vanity nor pride, but the glory of God and the salva- 
 tion of men, he was kept steady to his purpose, through 
 all changes and trials. God approved of his sincerity, 
 and rewarded it with the most striking and visible 
 success. 
 
 With the same holy and disinterested spirit, we 
 also may hope to stand approved; and that God will 
 not suffer our labours to be in vain. But if for the 
 humble purpose of treading in the steps of others, and 
 according in our opinions and practice with the fashion 
 of the times; if we seek only to make a figure in our 
 day and generation, unmoved by compassion for the 
 heathen, and a concern for the Divine glory, God will 
 say, " Put your burnt offerings to your sacrifices, I 
 have no delight in them." 
 
 Is this remark unseasonable? We cannot doubt 
 that extensive missions among the heathen have been 
 undertaken and many sacrifices made, for the narrow 
 purpose of adding to the number and splendour of a 
 particular church; or perhaps wuth the more selfish 
 design of adding a wreath to the crown of individual 
 talent and exertion. But God abhors these sordid 
 and earth-born motives. Can we hope that he will 
 bless us, and bring us into the goodly land, unless he 
 delight in us? Will he delight in us, unless we delight 
 in his cause, abstracted from our owm private views 
 and interests? He is a God of love, and has made a 
 spirit of disinterested affection the spring of all accep- 
 
288 THE SPIRIT OF PAUL 
 
 table duty. It is this alone which can elevate us to 
 the purity and dignity of the ancient churches, and 
 give us a zeal for the spread of the gospel, sincere and 
 permanent as theirs. A zeal founded upon any other 
 principle, will draw its motives chiefly from this world? 
 and though it may burn high for a season, and aston- 
 ish many by its brightness and vehemence, it is still 
 like the meteor, which shoots suddenly across the sky, 
 and terminates in darkness. That zeal which shall 
 burn with a clear and lasting flame, must be kindled 
 at the altar of pure and holy love. 
 
 V. Finally let us not overlook St. Paul's firm and 
 constant reliance upon God. 
 
 He was zealous and laborious — but he did not ex- 
 pect to convert the world by his ow^n power. His en- 
 dowments indeed weie of the highest order, both 
 natural and acquired. To these were superadded such 
 miraculous gifts, as not to leave him " a whit behind 
 the very chief of the apostles." Yet with all these 
 advantages, he was disposed to say, " He that planteth, 
 and he that watereth is nothing but God that giveth 
 the increase." His reliance for success was upon the 
 Holy Ghost sent down from Heaven, in his convincing 
 and sanctifying operations. Why else did he pray so 
 fervently for a blessing upon his labours, and so con- 
 stantly solicit the prayers of his brethren? 
 
 This part of his example is particularly worthy of 
 our regard. The cause of missions is eminently the 
 cause of God. He can only give it success. To the 
 agency of his spirit we must ascribe it, thai any are 
 brought to the saving knowledge of the truth in Christ- 
 
THE SPIRIT OF MISSIONS. 289 
 
 ian lands, where the doctrines of the gospel are the 
 creed of men's early years. But among the heathen, 
 where the obstacles to divine truth are multiplied and 
 various, what can we look for without the special 
 agency of the Holy Spirit? 
 
 I know indeed there are some, who, even with this 
 agency, so long as it falls short of miraculous gifts, im- 
 agine that we have but a discouraging prospect of con- 
 verting the heathen; and they attribute the want of 
 success among missionaries in modern times to the 
 absence of miraculous powders. We shall certainly not 
 allege that such powers would be of no consequence 
 to the missionary of Christ; but we may safely affirm 
 that they are not necessary. They were all-impor- 
 tant in laying the foundations of Christianity; but 
 having once existed, and a faithful record of them 
 been transmitted to our times, it is sufficient now to 
 refer to them, w^hether for the conviction of those who 
 are born under the light of the gospel, or of those to 
 whom the knowledge of it is now to be imparted. 
 
 This is not mere theory, brethren. What is the 
 state of facts? Have no nations been converted to 
 Christianity since the age of miracles ceased? When 
 did the ancient Franks and Germans receive the gos- 
 pel? W^hen the Swedes and Danes, and other northern 
 nations? These, with the greater part of our own 
 ancestors, were heathens long since miraculous powers 
 were known in the church. What shall we say of 
 the Moravian missionaries in Greenland and Labra- 
 dor? Of Swartz and his coadjutors among the natives 
 of Indostan? Was it the power of working miracles. 
 
290 
 
 THE SPIRIT OF PAUL 
 
 which gave to their labours such visible and triumphant 
 success? Had Vanderkerap this power in converting 
 the wandering and ignorant Hottentots? Or Eliot, or 
 Mayhew, or Brainard, in the success which accom- 
 panied their labours among the Indians of our own 
 country? They saw those tawny tribes moved under 
 the preaching of the gospel, as the trees of the wood 
 are moved with a mighty wind. They saw hundreds 
 eagerly embracing the word of life, not because that 
 word was confirmed by mighty signs and wonders and 
 gifts of a miraculous kind, but because the Spirit of 
 God was poured upon them in his enlightening, con- 
 vincing and sanctifying power. What has been, my 
 brethren, may be again. 
 
 Besides, if the heathen are ever to receive the gos- 
 pel, by what means is their conversion to be effected? 
 We have no reason to expect that the age of miracles 
 will return. The word of God made quick and power- 
 ful by the agency of the Holy Spirit will be found 
 abundantly sufficient to accomplish this work. When 
 God's time is fully come for gathering in the heathen, 
 every obstacle to the spread of the gospel will be re- 
 moved; his word will be preached to all nations; his 
 Spirit will be be poured upon all flesh; and " the know- 
 ledge of the Lord will fdl the earth as the waters cover 
 the sea." Then " will be destroyed the face of the 
 covering cast over all people, and the vail that is spread 
 over the nations." Then the '- mountain of the Lord's 
 house will be exalted above the hills, and all nations 
 flow unto it." 
 
 In the meantime, let us do our duty, if it be only to 
 
THE SPIRIT OF MISSIONS. 291 
 
 prepare the way for this glorious era of the church of 
 God. But whatever we undertake, let our eyes be 
 steadfastly turned to the Lord, and let all our expecta- 
 tions be from him; let us look, and wait and pray for 
 the out-pouring of the Holy Spirit. There is danger, 
 brethren, that we shall overlook this almighty Agent, 
 so essential both to our fidelity and success; or at least 
 that we shall not give him that place, in our plans and 
 operations, which his high and sacred office demands. 
 
 To avoid this danger, and to stir us up to a vigorous 
 discharge of our duty, let us set the apostle's example 
 fully before us, and make it a part of our daily prayer 
 that we may deeply imbibe his spirit. He loved the 
 gospel, and felt extensively its transforming power. 
 He considered it not merely his duty, but his highest 
 honour and privilege, to preach its unsearchable riches 
 among the Gentiles. Yet he did not seek his own 
 honour and advantage in this service, nor rely upon his 
 own wisdom and strength for success. God's glory 
 was his last end; and in the divine power and mercy 
 he confided to make his labours beneficial to the heathen. 
 Could we possess his spirit in all things, how much 
 would it prepare us for the work in which we are en- 
 gaged; and what happy consequences might we not 
 expect to follow. 
 
 There would then be no want of missionaries. Men 
 would rise up in every part of the country like Brai- 
 nerd — like Vandeikemp — prepared to leave their 
 friends and all that the world holds dear, to carry the 
 gospel to the wandering savages in both hemispheres; 
 
292 THE SPIRIT OF PAUL 
 
 or to plant it among the more civilized, but equally 
 benighted tribes of the earth. 
 
 There would be no want of pecuniary means. Men 
 who have consecrated themselves w^ould consecrate 
 their substance to the Lord. If sparing from the luxu- 
 ries of life w^ould not be found sufficient, they would 
 spare from its ordinary comforts, and sooner endure the 
 severest privations than that the heathen should w^ant 
 for the bread and water of life. The spirit of Paul 
 w^ould make us offer more willingly for this object, 
 than the ancient Israelites did to build their tabernacle, 
 when it became necessary to restrain their liberality 
 by saying, " It is enough." Of all charities this would 
 appear the most noble, the most heavenly; and men 
 w^ould be anxious to lend to the Lord, and to lay up in 
 store a good foundation against the time to come. 
 
 Had we the spirit of Paul, the spirit of missions 
 would not languish, nor its object fail for want of con- 
 stant, fervent, and believing prayer. Day and night 
 should we remember the poor heathen, and those w^ho 
 have gone forth to break the bread of life to them. Ne- 
 ver could w^e think of the light and privileges we enjoy, 
 without feeling the tenderest compassion for those who 
 sit in darkness, and sending up strong and fervent cries 
 to Heaven in their behalf And why, my dear brethren, 
 should w^e not possess this spirit? Is it not heaven- 
 born? Is it not godlike? Does it not comport w^ith 
 our character and profession as Christians? Will it 
 not impart a sweet and heavenly peace to our own 
 bosoms? Has it not a rich and eternal reward? No 
 
THE SPIRIT OF MISSIONS. 293 
 
 object can be conceived more sublime; none more im- 
 portant: it involves in it the glory of God through his 
 Son, and the eternal salvation of millions — an object 
 which should at all times greatly interest us, but which 
 the events of the present times powerfully press upon 
 our attention. God, we know, has promised to give 
 his Son "the heathen for his inheritance, and the utter- 
 most parts of the earth for his possession." The time ap- 
 pears at hand, when the promise shall be carried into 
 complete effect. What mean these mighty revolutions 
 among the nations these last twenty years — this turning 
 and overturning, in which the hand of God is so visible, 
 as to fill the world with astonishment? Do they not tell 
 us, He is near whose right it is to reign? What mean 
 these movements in the church, both in Europe 
 and America? These missionary societies, and Bible 
 societies, which unite so great a portion of the 
 intelligence and zeal of Christendom? The church 
 has awaked from the sleep of centuries; she is turn- 
 ing her believing eye in every direction, and seems 
 resolved to plant the standard of the cross in every land. 
 I need not tell you, brethren, what has already been 
 done among the heathen; that Christian missionary 
 establishments have recently been formed in India, in Af- 
 rica, and in the islands of the Southern Ocean, besides se- 
 veral among the natives of our own country; that trans- 
 lations of the holy scriptures have been made and are 
 making, in very many of the Asiatic languages, spo- 
 ken perhaps, by not less than five hundred millions of 
 people. More than fifty missionaries are now actually 
 26 
 
294 THE SPIRIT OF PAUL 
 
 labouring in pagan lands. Others are preparing to 
 join them; men of piety, men of talent. Thousands, 
 who have not seen each others faces in the flesh, and 
 who are of different religious communities, are united 
 in this benevolent and glorious design. 
 
 Is this a time to sit still? Do we not already see the 
 dawn of the millennial day? Do we not hear, or seem 
 to hear, the accents of that song, which shall yet re- 
 sound from every shore, " Arise, shine, for thy light is 
 come, and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee?" 
 But we have our discouragements. Besides those 
 which arise from distance of country, unhealthiness 
 of climate, the moral state of the heathen, and, in 
 some cases, their malignant and hostile feelings towards 
 Christians, we have war in our own country, and war 
 too of the most distressing character. Tw^o Christian 
 nations, most forward in spreading the benign religion 
 of Jesus, have drawn their swords against each other. 
 This, we must acknowledge, is a painful state of things: 
 but though painful it ought neither to overwhelm nor 
 discourage us. Jesus Christ, the great head of the 
 church, still holds the sceptre in his hands. He may 
 permit great confusion and distress among the nations; 
 but he will not, for a single moment, lose sight of his 
 own kingdom, nor of those who befriend him. 
 
 Let our eyes and hopes be turned to him; and let 
 us doubt neither his power nor his mercy, while we 
 pray that the dark cloud which overshadows us may 
 be withdrawn, and the joyful period arrive, when 
 *' Ephraim shall no longer vex Judah, nor Judah vex 
 
THE SPIRIT OF MISSIONS. 295 
 
 Ephraim;" but when wars shall cease to the ends of 
 the earth, and all nations shall be embosomed in the 
 same church, their king one and their name one. 
 
 I cannot close this discourse without inviting you all 
 to cooperate w4th us in sending the gospel to the hea- 
 then. We ask your counsel — we ask your prayers — 
 we solicit your liberality. Here is a cause in which 
 all may embark, high and low, rich and poor, learned 
 and unlearned. Here the widow's mite will be ac- 
 cepted j and if given out of love to the poor heathen, 
 will be honoui'ably mentioned in the great and last day. 
 Now you have an opportunity of doing something to 
 spread the glory of Christ's name, and extend the 
 means of salvation to your perishing fellow sinners. 
 Now you have an opportunity of showing your love to 
 Him who died for you, and the regard which you have 
 both to his authority and example He had com- 
 passion upon this lost world — and hesitated not to lay 
 down his life for its redemption. Dwells there a like 
 compassion in your bosoms? His holy and omniscient 
 eye is present to see, and his recording angel to write 
 down the fact. Give, my dear brethren, as God has 
 prospered you^ and be not afraid to give bountifully, 
 for God will reward you in proportion to your liberality. 
 But before you give, fix your eyes on those vast multi- 
 tudes for whom your charity is solicited — those millions 
 who are sitting in the region of darkness and the 
 shadow of death; all made of one blood — all descend- 
 ing with you from the same guilty parent; all by nature 
 children of wrath — all hastening to the bar of judg- 
 ment. Soon their probationary state will close; — soon 
 
296 THE SPIRIT OF PAUL. 
 
 they will sink from your sight — and from beyond the 
 reach of your compassion. But Oh! you will see them 
 again; you will see them at the judgment seat of Christ 
 — you will see them arraigned — tried — and sentenced to 
 eternal rewards or punishments. What joy will it be 
 to you, should you then behold some redeemed sinner 
 rescued by your seasonable and pious liberality from the 
 horrors of everlasting death, and made heir of an in- 
 conceivable, and eternal weight of glory? Be it some 
 African — be it some Hindoo — be it some tawny savage 
 from the wilderness — the joy will be equal — it is a soul 
 saved from death, through your instrumentality. How 
 precious will that pittance appear, which was devoted 
 to so glorious a cause, and which has returned to you 
 with so rich a harvest. Ardently will you wish that 
 one half of your estates had been employed in this 
 work of charity. "For now they that are wise will 
 shine as the brightness of the firmament, and they that 
 turn many to righteousness," however humble the means, 
 " as the stars for ever and ever." 
 
 I leave you, dear brethren, to your own reflections; 
 praying that your charities may be such as God and 
 your own conscience shall approve; and that whatever 
 may be the event of your liberality as to others, it may 
 be a treasure laid up in Heaven for you, which the 
 Divine Saviour shall graciously disclose in the presence 
 of men and angels at his coming. 
 
SERMON XVI.* 
 
 THIS WORLD IS NOT OUR REST. 
 
 MICAH II., 10. 
 " Arise ye, and depaH ; for this is not your rest." 
 These words were addressed to the inoffensive and 
 pious part of the house of Israel and Judah, who were 
 unjustly and cruelly treated by their brethren. Though 
 they dwelt in the land of Canaan, which God had 
 given unto their fathers for a quiet habitation, they 
 found no rest: though they had laws and ordinances of 
 divine appointment, well calculated to promote the 
 peace and good order of society, yet they found neither 
 safety nor enjoyment. Iniquity, which burneth l.ke a 
 fire had made awful ravages. Men had risen up in 
 every part of the land, void of justice and charity, as 
 they were of the fear of God; men who devised mis- 
 chief and wrought evil upon their beds-who were 
 eiven to covetousness and robbery, and who, by fraud 
 or by violence, spoiled those who fell into their hands. 
 In the verses preceding the text, the Prophet de- 
 scribes them as plundering the weak, and forcibly dis- 
 possessing the women of their pleasant habitations, 
 while from their children, they had taken away " God s 
 glory forever;" as they had sold them for bonds-men 
 
 • A Sermon aelivereJ at Morristown, N. J., July U, 1816. 
 26* 
 
298 THIS WORLD IS NOT OUR REST. 
 
 and bonds-women in a land of strangers, where the true 
 God was not known. All these attrocious acts were 
 committed by men calling themselves the people of 
 God, and who had actually entered into covenant with 
 him to walk in his ways. 
 
 The anger of the Lord, as might be expected, was 
 kindled against them, and he determined to visit them 
 according to their sins. 
 
 As an indication of the judgments which he was 
 about to inflict, he addresses himself to the pious suffer- 
 ers in the midst of the land, and says — " Arise ye, and 
 depart; for this is not your rest." Here is no quiet- 
 ness, no safety for you; get you into the land of cap- 
 tivity, the land of strangers; for your own land is pol- 
 luted — and because it is polluted, it shall destroy you, 
 even with a sore destruction. 
 
 The same monitory voice is heard by the Lord's 
 people still; — not, indeed, to warn them to change the 
 place of their earthly abode; but to change the current 
 of their expectations and desires; and, instead of look- 
 ing for any thing like a true and satisfying rest in the 
 things of this life, to look for it in God, and the things 
 w^hich appertain to his everlasting kingdom. 
 
 To every child of God in this assembly — nay, to 
 every soul, of whatever character, does the word of the 
 Lord say to-day, " Arise ye, and depart; for this is not 
 your rest." There is nought on earth which can satisfy 
 the desires of your minds; — you will find no place, no 
 condition, in which you can quietly sit down and say, 
 here will I rest — here will I enjoy. Through every 
 step of your journey, you will find something to dis- 
 
THIS WORLD IS NOT OUR REST. 299 
 
 quiet you; something to convince you that you have 
 pitched your tent in the wilderness, at a distance from 
 the land which the Lord has promised to make a quiet 
 habitation, a perfect rest forever. Arise ye and depart; 
 lift up your eyes to another country ; seek to inherit a 
 portion, w^hich is not liable to be lost by misfortune, or 
 torn from you by violence; and which can in no degree 
 be affected by any of the afflictions or changes of the 
 present world.| 
 
 But to give this exhortation the greater effect, I shall 
 call your attention to three things: 
 
 1. The fact, which this exhortation supposes, that 
 we are prone to seek our rest in this world. 
 
 2. That here no true and satisfying rest can be found. 
 And 
 
 3. The duty and the importance of arising and de- 
 parting from this w^orld, in our affections and desires, 
 and seeking the rest which God has provided for us; a 
 rest w^hich is full, perfect and eternal. 
 
 I. Let us for a moment advert to the fact, which is 
 presupposed in this exhortation, that we are prone to 
 seek our rest in this world. 
 
 While this fact lies open to the observation of every 
 one, who wnll take the pains to notice what is passing 
 in his own heart, or in the world, it is notwithstand- 
 ing connected with many circumstances, which may 
 justly excite our astonishment. 
 
 We all know that we are strangers and sojourners 
 upon earth, as all our fathers were; that our days here 
 are only as a shadow; and our enjoyments as transient 
 as our days. We are well convinced, that whatever 
 
300 THIS WORLD IS NOT OUR REST. 
 
 prosperity may attend us, the places which now know 
 us, will soon know us no more forever. At the same 
 time, we pretend not to doubt the immortality of our 
 beings. We expect to live through the un wasting 
 ages of eternity, in some unknown portion of God's 
 kingdom, and to be happy or miserable, according to the 
 part which we have acted in this world; and yet, 
 strange to tell, our thoughts turn almost continually 
 upon the present life. We are perpetually devising 
 means of securing the good, or of avoiding the evil, 
 attendant upon our condition here; with comparatively 
 little solicitude what shall befal us hereafter. The 
 great object seems to be, how we shall better our cir- 
 cumstances — and be able to pass the years and months 
 which are to come, with more ease and satisfaction 
 than those which are past; — or which is the same thing, 
 we seem to be looking for something like a rest, here 
 on earth. 
 
 If this were true only of men of the world, who are 
 confessedly ignorant of the spirituality and power of 
 religion, the wonder would not be so great: for what 
 can be expected of those, who have never been enlight- 
 ened from above, but that their affections and desires 
 should be pointed to earth? But the same thing, with 
 few exceptions, is lamentably true of God's children. 
 Who that witnesses their cares and anxieties about 
 this mortal life, their eagerness and bustle while pur- 
 suing its transitory objects, would readily believe that 
 they expected another life, perfectly happy and eternal? 
 
 Look at them in the hour of prosperity: what cheer- 
 fulness does a little sunshine seem to infuse into their 
 
THIS WORLD IS NOT OUR REST. 301 
 
 spirits, while every object around them smiles, and flat- 
 ters them with the augmentation or continuation of 
 earthly bliss? And how soon does their countenance 
 fall, the moment their worldly prospects change? Let 
 foul calumny assault their reputation — the wheels of 
 business be obstructed, or some unforeseen event sud- 
 denly involve them in poverty; — let sickness blight 
 their worldly enjoyments, or death, by falling on some 
 dear friend, sweep away their fondest earthly hopes — 
 and you will see at once, by the gloom or agitation 
 w^hich attends them, how much they were building their 
 expectations on this world. 
 
 Sanctified but in part, and seeing through a glass 
 darkly, their views of another life are not sufficiently 
 clear and strong, to raise them above an unreasonable 
 dependence on the present. This is evident from the 
 constant struggles which they make, to become dead to 
 the world, and alive unto God — and which constitutes 
 no small part of the warfare to which they are subjected 
 on earth. This is manifest from the repeated exhorta- 
 tions addressed to them in the scriptures, to be less 
 careful for the life that now is, and more solicitous for 
 that which is to come. 
 
 Why did Jesus bid his disciples take no thought for 
 the morrow, saying, " what shall we eat, and what 
 shall we drink, and wherewithal shall we be clothed," 
 but because they were in danger of having their thoughts 
 and affections too much engrossed with these earthly 
 objects? Why did he exhort them, on another occa- 
 sion, " to watch and pray always, lest their hearts 
 should be overcharged with surfeiting and drunkenness, 
 
302 
 
 THIS WORLD IS NOT OUR REST. 
 
 and the cares of this life," but because he saw that, 
 with all their attainments, their affections leaned by far 
 too much to this w^orld? 
 
 Were it not for this state of mind, we should never 
 have heard the Apostle say, " set your affections on 
 things above, not on things on the earth." " Be not 
 conformed to this world, but be ye transformed by the 
 renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that 
 good, and acceptable, and perfect will of God." 
 
 All these exhortations presuppose the fact that the 
 minds of Christians are too much weighed to earth, 
 and that here, to a criminal and dangerous degree, 
 they are prone to seek their rest. It is not, however, 
 the existence of the fact only, which I wish you to 
 contemplate, but its amazing extent. 
 
 Could you make the whole of your lives pass before 
 you, and instantly separate those thoughts that have 
 been employed about your present, from those that have 
 been occupied with your future state, would you not be 
 surprised at the disproportion? How much of this span 
 of life, would you be compelled to say, has been de- 
 voted to the concerns of an hour, while the boundless 
 scenes of an unwasting duration have shared compara- 
 tively but little of your attention? 
 
 You cannot justify this direction of your thoughts, by 
 ailed ging that you have already made such provision 
 for your immortal existence, as no longer to have any 
 fear or anxiety on that subject; for, with regard to 
 many of you, it is even now a very doubtful matter, in 
 your own minds, if the one thing needful be yet secured. 
 But if it were otherwise — if you had the assurance of 
 
THIS WORLD IS NOT OUR REST. 303 
 
 St. Paul, of your justified state, and an assurance equally 
 well grounded, it would not acquit you from the charge 
 of having given so many of your thoughts to the world, 
 and so small a portion of them to God, and the things 
 of his everlasting kingdom. 
 
 The true secret of all this is, an earth-born mind — 
 an unreasonable attachment to the world — a disposition 
 to find a rest in something short of God. 
 
 But, blessed be the Lord God of Israel, and forever 
 blessed be his name — no such rest can be found. It is 
 not on earth; — it is nowhere in the universe of crea- 
 tures. 
 
 I doubt not but that every true believer cordially 
 assents to the propriety of this remark. It is your ex- 
 perience. Christian, as well as the language of your 
 Bible, that nothing but Jehovah himself can fill the ex- 
 pansive desires of the mind, and bring the soul to rest. 
 This makes it the more wonderful that those, who have 
 tasted that the Lord is gracious, should ever think of 
 forsaking him, and finding a resting place among the 
 perishing objects of time. But this folly, I ought to 
 remark, is not an habitual and prevailing characteristic 
 of the people of God. It is an evil, of which they 
 complain, and of which, God, in the course of his 
 providence, as well as by the operations of his spirit, 
 intends ultimately to cure them. 
 
 They have a conviction already, though not so deep 
 as it ought to be, that there is no true rest on earth. 
 And others, if they would give themselves time to re- 
 flect, or would faithfully consult their own experience, 
 could not fail to receive a like conviction. 
 
304 THIS WORLD IS NOT OUR REST. 
 
 II. But let us, in the second place, consider more 
 particularly, wherein it appears that no true and sub- 
 stantial rest can be found in this world. 
 
 If it were possible to find rest on earth, how comes 
 it to pass that we never sit down contented with the 
 present, and say here will I enjoy? Why do we per- 
 petually look forward, and think of something yet to 
 be accomplished — some evil to be removed, or some 
 good acquired, before we can be happy? 
 
 It is a truth, to which the experience of all ages 
 bears witness, that the more men know of the world, 
 the less confidence they have in it, as a place of rest or 
 of enjoyment. 
 
 We may take the testimony of Solomon as con- 
 clusive on this subject; and that not only, nor chiefly, 
 because he was placed in circumstances to form a cor- 
 rect judgment, but because he was divinely inspired, 
 and spake by the authority of God: and A-hat is his 
 testimony? Why, that as in the natural, so in the 
 moral world, all things are full of labour, and that there 
 is no true and satisfying rest under the sun; that " all 
 is vanity and vexation of spirit." 
 
 But not to content ourselves with general views, let 
 us look a moment at some of the objects in which we 
 are prone to seek our rest. 
 
 Can we find it in wealth? To say nothing of its im- 
 potence to ward off a thousand evils to which we are 
 exposed in this world, it has no power at all to satisfy 
 the desires of the mind, and thus to give us ease and 
 tranquillity. " He that loveth silver shall not be satis* 
 fied with silver; nor he that loveth abundance with in- 
 
THIS WORLD IS NOT OUR REST. 305 
 
 crease. If goods increase, they increase that eat them ; 
 and what good is there to the owners thereof, saving 
 the beholding of them with their eyes?" 
 
 They usually bring a heavy weight of care— expose 
 to many temptations, and too often, alas! shut the door 
 of eternal life upon their guilty and unhappy possessors. 
 
 Can we find it in honour? Of all the passions per- 
 haps, none is more uneasy, than that which leads us to 
 desire distinction among our fellow men, and none, I 
 will venture to say, which sets the soul farther from the 
 way of peace. When acquired in the path of duty, 
 and in the struggles of a magnanimous and virtuous 
 course, honour is nothing more than a precarious life 
 in another's breath; not unfrequently exchanged for 
 lasting oblivion, or unmerited disgrace. It is no food 
 for the soul; "one self-approving hour," said a poet, 
 who was no incompetent judge of the passions and 
 interests of men, 
 
 " One self-approving hour whole years outweighs 
 Of stupid stares, and of loud huzzas." 
 Will pleasure or voluptuous enjoyment afford us rest? 
 It may pall our appetites — it may brutalize our faculties, 
 and harden our hearts— but it can never satisfy the 
 nobler desires of our souls. They who live in pleasure 
 are dead while they live, and, paradoxical as the 
 remark may seem, they are as dead to all true felicity, 
 as they are to the voice of reason and duty. 
 
 The same insufficiency may be seen, with respect to 
 every other earthly object. 
 
 Go to human friendships, however carefully formed, 
 however studiously cultivated; and can you find rest 
 27 
 
306 THIS WORLD IS NOT OUR REST. 
 
 here? I will not suppose that your friends prove fickle 
 or faithless — an occurrence by no means unfrequent in 
 this changing world; but let them be all to you that 
 you can wish, so far as fidelity and moral worth are 
 concerned, yet how often will they find you in a con- 
 dition where your wants are beyond their reach; where 
 an unavailing sympathy is all the relief they can extend? 
 Or perhaps you may be made to feel your own weak- 
 ness, and your own misery too, by finding them in a 
 state where you can suffer with them, but where you 
 cannot help them. 
 
 Go to the walks of science and of taste, where genius 
 has poured its ardent rays for ages, and try, by the ex- 
 pansion of your intellectual powers, or by the gratifica- 
 tion of the finer feelings of the mind, to satisfy your 
 desires, and obtain a rest to your soul — and you will 
 find only, what Solomon long since found before you, 
 "that in much wisdom is much grief; and he that in- 
 creaseth knowledge, increaseth sorrow." If you run 
 through the history of past generations — if you visit 
 every country on the globe — if you explore, with 
 microscopic eye, every animal, and every insect — if you 
 traverse the wide field of plants, from the cedar of 
 Lebanon to the hyssop that springeth out of the wall, 
 still you will find that the eye is not satisfied with 
 seeing, nor the ear with hearing, nor the heart with 
 any kind or degree of knowledge, while God himself, 
 in his true moral excellence, is either unseen or un- 
 known. Nay, go to your farms and merchandise; try 
 business in its diversified forms; it may occupy you, 
 and keep you from pausing to think of yourselves; — it 
 
THIS WORLD IS NOT OUR REST. 307 
 
 may afford you, at times, the satisfaction of reflecting 
 that you are rationally employed, while you are pro- 
 viding for your own wants, and the wants of your 
 households— but it cannot bring you peace; it cannot 
 soften the pang of guilt; it cannot draw the sting of 
 death: it leaves an aching void in your souls, which, 
 immortal in themselves, thirst for immortality; and 
 cannot, and will not, be satisfied with any provision, 
 which is not commensurate to their own unceasing du- 
 ration. 
 
 But you have religious society, and religious ordi- 
 nances-perhaps you expect rest in these. No, my 
 dear friends, not even here will you find rest, unless, 
 at the same time, you can find God. No outward 
 privileges, without the presence of God to attend them, 
 can afford us any heart-felt joy: nor ought we to cal- 
 culate that any manifestations which He will make of 
 himself, through the medium of ordinances on earth, 
 will bring our souls to a satisfying and unchanging 
 rest The disciples of Jesus did not find it in the 
 presence of their Saviour, with all the advantages and 
 comforts attendant on that privilege. Peter, James, 
 and John did not find it on the mount of transfigura- 
 tion, glorious and transporting as the scene was; for 
 the messengers from Heaven, and the excellent glory 
 with all its circumstances, soon passed, and left them 
 alone. Again they were compelled to descend from 
 this eminence, and to mingle as before in the labours 
 and conflicts assigned to their earthly state. 
 
 So it will be with us, whatever glimpses we gam of 
 the divine glory this side of the grave. Our rest lies 
 
308 
 
 THIS WORLD IS NOT OUR REST. 
 
 not below the skies. Comfort we may have — ^joy we 
 may have, and at times a joy unspeakable, and full of 
 glory — but no rest which is adequate to our wants — 
 none which is full and permanent as that which is in 
 reserve for the people of God. What then remains 
 but that we listen to the exhortation before us, 
 
 in. To arise, and depart from this world, in our 
 affections and desires, and seek the rest which God has 
 provided for us — a rest which is full, perfect and 
 eternal. 
 
 Such a rest, my dear brethren, is to be found in 
 Heaven — a rest free from care and anxiety — a rest from 
 all our labours, from all our sufferings, from all our 
 sins; but not an inactive rest, where the powers of the 
 soul will be locked up in a state of inglorious ease, 
 destitute of sensibility, as they are of exertion; but 
 where every faculty will be employed, and every ca- 
 pacity for enjoyment filled. It will be a rest in God, 
 in his adorable attributes, his wisdom, power, and 
 love: a rest in the Lord Jesus Christ, as the grand 
 medium of divine communications — a rest in the society 
 of angels, and the spirits of just men made perfect. 
 Here, kindred souls will meet, without the least par- 
 ticle of jealousy or fear; they will embrace each other 
 with unlimited confidence — and rejoice in each other's 
 felicity, as making a part of their own. This will be 
 a rest without alloy, and without end. 
 
 Can we need arguments, brethren, to persuade us to 
 seek such a rest; and to seek it in the manner which 
 God has prescribed? Its transcendent glory and ex- 
 cellence, one would think, were enough, not only to 
 
THIS WORLD IS NOT OUR REST. 309 
 
 awaken all our powers, but to keep them in a constant 
 stretch, to our latest breath. It is our supreme good — 
 the only thing, which can make our existence a 
 blessing, or save it from being an inconceivable and 
 endless curse. 
 
 But, important as this rest is, remember that you 
 cannot have it without seeking. Jt is purchased by 
 the blood of Christ; it is freely tendered in the gospel; 
 it is taken possession of by the great Redeemer of his 
 people; but it will never become yours, unless you 
 desire it; unless you labour to enter into it. 
 
 Yet do not imagine, that your labour for this object, 
 will diminish your present enjoyment: it will make 
 you more happy. Its anticipations will be your 
 sweetest consolation in affliction — your firmest support 
 under trials. It will lighten all your burdens, soften 
 all your cares, and bring down the very dawn of 
 Heaven to your souls. 
 
 I exhort you, then, my dear brethren, to look away 
 from this land of your pilgrimage, to the promised rest. 
 Lose sight of these mountains and hills — these rivers 
 and valleys; and fix your eyes on Canaan's unbeclouded 
 shores. There your divine Redeemer is gone — there 
 the glorious armies of martyrs have ascended — there 
 the millions of pious souls, who have waded through 
 the cares and sufferings of the present life, have found 
 a safe and joyful retreat. Raise your thoughts and 
 desires to this blessed abode, and seek, by every mean 
 in your power, to put yourselves in possession of it. 
 
 But how shall you seek? By repentance of your 
 sins; a repentance deep and unfeigned: by faith in 
 27* 
 
310 THIS WORLD TS NOT OUR REST. 
 
 our Lord Jesus Christ; a faith which works by love, 
 and purifies the heart: by a course of self-denial and 
 mortification to the world; by a diligent attendance 
 upon every Christian duty, and especially, upon the 
 duties of holy watchfulness and prayer: — In a word, 
 by seeking God, the author and giver of this rest. 
 Endeavour to become acquainted with him — to live 
 near to him, and, as far as possible, to embosom your- 
 selves in his love. This will give you a blessed 
 earnest of the rest of which we speak, while you re- 
 main on earth, and a sure title to it, when your pil- 
 grimage is closed. 
 
 Let me only say that the voice of divine providence 
 unites with the voice of God's word, in pressing us to 
 this duty. 
 
 We are admonished by every thing around us, that 
 this world is not our rest. 
 
 The progress of the seasons — the changes which 
 time is constantly working in ourselves, and in others; 
 and, above all, the mortality which we witness among 
 those who have pursued the journey of life with us, 
 loudly proclaim that we are pilgrims, having here no 
 continuing city. How many have departed life, in 
 this congregation, since I closed my ministry among 
 you. I look round with surprise on the change of seven 
 short years. Where are the hoary headed pilgrims 
 who used to fill these seats, and bend their knees with 
 us, before the King Eternal? W^here are multitudes in 
 the morning and midst of life, who were the partakers 
 of our weekly devotion? They come no more to your 
 assemblies: they have done with every thing below the 
 
THIS WORLD IS NOT OUR REST. 311 
 
 skies: they have gone to a world of retribution, and 
 such as were prepared to a world of rest. This is a 
 new congregation, in which I feel myself a stranger. 
 How soon, and we too shall have passed to our eternal 
 abode! But, blessed be God, that, with all the changes 
 time and death are making, his church still lives, and is 
 rapidly advancing to greater maturity and glory. I 
 rejoice to hear that the Spirit of the Lord is poured out 
 upon you; and that many of the youth have hopefully 
 listed under the banner of King Jesus, and are directing 
 their footsteps towards the promised rest. Go on, ye 
 dear pilgrims, and be not discouraged with the length 
 or troubles of the way. You follow the standard of 
 one who will not deceive you. You are journeying to 
 the land, of which the Lord your God has spoken. It 
 is the heritage of Israel given by covenant and by oath. 
 You will find it a glorious rest, a quiet and eternal 
 habitation. When you come to count your numbers on 
 the other side of Jordan, may none of you be wanting 
 there. 
 
 But, is there no ground to fear, that many in this 
 assembly, will come short of that inheritance? Is there 
 no danger that some who have been recently awakened, 
 will lose their impressions, and return again to the beg- 
 garly elements of the world? And that others who have 
 continued unmoved during this season of divine grace, 
 will be given up to hardness of heart, and blindness of 
 mind, while God shall swear in his wrath, that they shall 
 not enter into his rest? Are there not some who begin to 
 tread the evening vale of life, that have not made their 
 peace with God? Some who have resisted the calls of 
 
3]2 TRIS WORLD IS NOT OUR REST. 
 
 half a century, and are now trembling on the threshold 
 of eternity, without any provision for that boundless 
 state of existence, on which they must so shortly enter? 
 Will you not hear the voice of a friend, who again 
 addresses you in God's name? of one who never thinks 
 of going to the bar of judgment himself, without re- 
 membering that he must meet you there? 
 
 Oh! let not this special season of mercy close, with- 
 out securing a title to the inheritance above. What 
 will it avail you, that success has attended your enter- 
 prises in this world, if you are finally shut out of the 
 kingdom of God: that the beam of mercy has long 
 shone upon your path, if your sun must set in everlast- 
 ing darkness? Behold the day goeth away, and the 
 shadow^s of the evening are stretched out. *' Arise ye, 
 and depart, for this is not your rest." 
 
SERMON XVII.^ 
 
 SLEEPING IN JESUS. 
 
 JOHN XI., 11. 
 
 ^- " Our friend Lazarus sleepethJ^ 
 
 Jesus had his friends in the days of his flesh; per- 
 sons whom he loved with more than ordinary affection, 
 and to whom, he himself, was preeminently dear. His 
 immediate disciples, whom he chose to be near him, 
 the witnesses of his miracles, and the depositaries of 
 his truth, may well be supposed to have shared largely 
 in his affections, and to have been peculiarly entitled 
 to the endearing appellation of friends. But among 
 these, some were dearer to him than others, and one 
 was known by " the disciple whom Jesus loved;" who 
 was admitted to the most familiar and unrestrained in- 
 tercourse, and who was found leaning upon the bosom 
 of Jesus at his last supper. 
 
 There were others, scattered up and down places of 
 our Lord's ministry, whom he honoured, not as disciples 
 merely, but as his friends. Among these, were Mary 
 and Martha, and their brother Lazarus, of the town ot 
 Bethany. As this place was contiguous to Jerusalem, 
 
 * A Sermon, delivered at the funeral of Deacon Stephen Bald- 
 win, of the First Presbyterian Church, Newark, Feb 4, 1816. 
 
314 SLEEPING IN JESUS. 
 
 it often happened, that in passing to and from the Jew- 
 ish capital, our Lord visited this family, and lodged at 
 their house. They were persons of great hospitality, 
 and of no mean standing in society. But what ren- 
 dered them peculiarly dear to the Saviour was, they 
 were ardently pious; they loved his holy doctrines; 
 they reflected the light of his heavenly example. 
 Mary delighted to sit at the feet of Jesus, to catch the 
 precious words as they fell from his lips; and on one 
 occasion, to testify her love to him, she annointed his 
 feet with ointment of spikenard, and wiped them with 
 the hair of her head. 
 
 When Lazarus fell sick, knowing the affection which 
 Jesus had to him, his sisters thought it enough, to send 
 this short and afflictive message, " That he whom thou 
 lovest is sick." Enough, it would have been, had he 
 reasoned as they did. But his love was under the gui- 
 dance of a higher wisdom. He had something better 
 in view than they were contemplating; something 
 by which his own glory would be more immediately 
 advanced, and their comfort, and growth in piety, more 
 effectually promoted. You know, my dear brethren, 
 the sequel. Jesus did not go, at the call of his pious 
 family, to save him, whom he loved, from death. He 
 abode where he was, till the disease of Lazarus proved 
 fatal, and his sisters had consigned him to the tomb. 
 Our Lord, who knew every thing that passed, 
 was perfectly acquainted with the fact, and said to his 
 disciples, in language softening the event as much as 
 possible, but which, at first, they did not seem to under- 
 stand, " Our friend Lazarus sleepeth, and I go that I 
 
SLEEPING IN JESUS. 315 
 
 may awake him out of sleep." Four days after this 
 melancholy event, and while the grief of Martha and 
 Mary was at its greatest height, Jesus arrives at Be- 
 thany—unites his tears with the tears of these pious 
 sisters, and by a miracle of power and mercy, unex- 
 pected to them, raises their departed brother from the 
 grave, and turns their mourning into joy. what 
 astonishment! What mingled emotions! to see Laza- 
 rus come forth at the call of Jesus, restored, at once, 
 from the wastes of sickness and the grave, to his former 
 activity and vigor, prepared to mingle in the sweets of 
 retired friendship, and to gladden the circles in which 
 he had formerly moved. 
 
 How different the prospect which lies before this 
 mourning assembly! " Our friend Lazarus sleepeth," 
 but there is no power on earth to awake him. It is 
 long since the feet of Jesus trod this lower world, and 
 since the miraculous powers, which attended his minis- 
 try, and that of his disciples, have ceased. They, who 
 go down to the grave now, go down with the certainty 
 of returning no more to their house; they commence a 
 sleep, from which they shall not awake till these hea- 
 vens are dissolved; their eyes are closed, at once, and 
 forever, upon these regions of mortality. Whatever of 
 labour, whatever of usefulness, whatever of comfort, 
 they may have participated, all is terminated in death. 
 
 But is there nothing to console us in this dark and 
 afflictive scene? Will the gospel shed no light upon 
 the torabi O Jesus, thou art not here, to prevent our 
 friends from dying, nor to rescue them, when dead, 
 from the dark dominions of the grave. But thy word 
 
316 SLEEPING IN JESUS. 
 
 is here; thy word, sealed with thy precious blood, 
 attested by a resurrection far more glorious than that 
 of Lazarus — a resurrection of thine own sacred body, 
 offered in sacrifice for this guilty world ; a resurrection 
 to a state of immortal blessedness and glory. And has 
 Christ risen? Yes, he has risen, as the mighty con- 
 queror of sin, of death and of hell; he has risen as the 
 first fruits of them that sleep in him; and we have his 
 promise that where he is, there his friends shall be. 
 Their spirits shall ascend to him the moment they leave 
 this house of clay; and at the set time, the time fixed 
 in his eternal counsels, he will raise their wasted bodies 
 from the grave, and fashion them like unto his own 
 most glorious body. 
 
 Be not afraid, then, my Christian brethren, to ven- 
 ture down into the grave, at the call of your Saviour; 
 nor tremble to commit the remains of your friends to 
 this mansion of the dead. They shall find it a quiet 
 resting place, from the cares and vicissitudes of this 
 world, till the blessed morning come, when they shall 
 awake to sleep no more, and awake in the glory and 
 strength of immortality. 
 
 But what is the temper, to be indulged under the 
 loss of Christian friends? Are we to dry up our tears, 
 in the hope, that since they sleep in Jesus, they shall 
 do well? This would be an act of violence to our na- 
 ture, while it resists the call of Christian duty. A 
 stoical insensibility is not inculcated by the gospel, nor 
 recommended by the example of its great author. Je- 
 sus wept at the grave of Lazarus, and tenderly sympa- 
 thised with his sorrowful sisters, though he knew, he 
 
SLEEPING IN JESUS. 317 
 
 \voul(l shortly turn their mourning into joy. It is fit 
 that we should weep also. We are united to our friends 
 by a thousand ties. Our happiness depends, in no small 
 degree, upon the relation they bear to us, and upon the 
 endearing intercourse which we hold with them. 
 They can not be torn from us in death, without sunder- 
 ing the tenderest cords of our hearts. How many re- 
 collections press upon us in the moment of their depart- 
 ure, to enhance the value of their society, and to make 
 us the more deeply sensible of our loss. Not to be 
 smitten with sorrow, on such an occasion, would betray 
 a criminal insensibility, and be denying to our friends, 
 a proper testimony of their worth. 
 
 Besides, the mournful circumstances, in which 
 death makes his approach; the weakness and pains of 
 di^olving nature; the change which passes upon all 
 that is mortal ; the opening grave — its darkness, silence 
 and corruption, connected with the recollection, that 
 all this is but the certain prelude of our own dissolu- 
 tion, can not but add to the gloom of the melancholy 
 scene, and make the departure of our friends a subject 
 of deeper sorrow. Nor is it to be expected, that any 
 pleasing hope, which we entertain of their happiness, 
 will immediately extinguish our grief, or dry up our 
 tears. Did they tread in the footsteps of their blessed 
 Master? We need their example. Were they pos- 
 sessed of wisdom and knowledge? We need their 
 counsels and instructions. Were their bosoms warmed 
 with the fire of divine love, and enriched with other 
 attendant graces? We need their presence to animate 
 us, and their conversation to aid in beginning, or in 
 28 
 
318 SLEEPING IN JESUS. 
 
 strengthening the divine life in our souls. The more 
 excellent they were, the greater is our loss, and so far 
 as our present comfort is concerned, the greater cause 
 have we for sorrow. At the same time, if it be well 
 with them, this is an important reason why our sorrow 
 should not be excessive. 
 
 This was the Apostle's argument with his Christian 
 brethren, for moderating their grief, under the loss of 
 their pious friends. He would not have them sorrow^, 
 as the heathen did, who had no hope; or none which 
 was well defined and satisfactory. They looked at the 
 grave as the place of eternal silence, as the tomb of 
 all that is dear in human existence. Or, if through 
 the glimmerings of tradition, they could spell out a 
 futurity — still they were ignorant of the character of 
 that futurity, and of its connection with the present life. 
 At the very best, all was vague and uncertain conjec- 
 ture with them. But as it is otherwise with the Chris- 
 tian ; as he both knows that there is another w^orld, 
 and that joy and felicity await the righteous there, it 
 becomes a sacred duty to moderate his grief for those 
 who die in the Lord. 
 
 That we may feel the full force of this argument, let 
 us advert a moment to the happy state of those who 
 have fallen asleep in Christ. 
 
 It is plain, my dear brethren, that they are not lost 
 to us, though they cease to reside in our families, to 
 move in our circles, and to mingle in our devotions. 
 Death is not annihilation. It breaks down this earthly 
 tabernacle, to which we are so much attached, and over 
 which we watch with such constant solicitude; but it 
 
SLEEPING IN JESUS. 319 
 
 touches not the invisible and immortal tenant. This 
 lies not within the reach of the last enemy, but escapes 
 unhurt to brighter worlds, the moment this lower build- 
 ing falls. 
 
 Governed as we are by sense, w^e are apt to look into 
 the tomb for our departed friends; our imaginations 
 linger about the spot where we have deposited their 
 remains, as if all that we loved was buried there. 
 But the eye of faith looks to another world, and beholds 
 those conscious beings, who were the real objects of 
 our affection, mingling with the spirits of just men 
 made perfect around the throne of God. 
 
 We do not consider a man on a journey lost, because 
 he has reached the end of his course a few days sooner 
 than his companions. We do not say that a ship is 
 lost, because she has entered her port a little before the 
 fleet, who commenced their voyage with her. Nor are 
 our dear friends lost, who have crossed the tempestuous 
 sea of life, and entered the haven of rest before us. 
 They are landed on a peaceful shore, where no tempest 
 shall reach them, no gaping wave threaten them through 
 eternity. 
 
 Behold then the happy change in their condition. 
 They have left a world of care and anxiety, and are 
 gone to a world of rest. 
 
 The most fortunate pilgrim on earth has many things 
 to disturb his repose. If surrounded with friends; if a 
 competency of this world's goods, or even an abun- 
 dance, is secured to him, by the surest earthly titles; if 
 placed in the most favourable situations for moral and 
 intellectual improvement, and nothing is withheld, 
 
320 SLEEPING IN JESUS. 
 
 which human wisdom can devise to prevent, or to soothe 
 the ills of life; still he will find the curse on every spot 
 of earth which he treads, in every portion of air which 
 he breathes. A secret inquietude follows him in all his 
 pursuits, and in the midst of his very enjoyments, tells 
 him this is not your rest. It would require a volume 
 to lay open the sources of this uneasiness. He finds it 
 in all his relations, in all his interests, in all his duties; 
 he finds it in things temporal, and things spiritual, in 
 all that appertains to his present or future welfare. 
 But in Heaven it will be otherwise. They who have 
 reached that world, have found a full, soul-satisfying and 
 eternal rest. Those devouring cares which wasted their 
 spirits and disturbed their repose on earth, will never 
 more reach them. Their minds will remain smooth 
 and unruffled as the summer's sea, throughout their in- 
 terminable existence. This should reconcile us to their 
 being absent from the body, and present with the Lord. 
 
 They have left a world too, of sin, and temptation to 
 sin, and gone to a world of perfect holiness, where no- 
 thing that defileth, or worketh abomination, or maketh 
 a lie shall enter. 
 
 In the days of their pilgrimage, they often groaned 
 out with the apostle, " wretched man that I am, who 
 shall deliver me from the body of this death?" Now 
 they are delivered; they see the power of indwelling 
 sin not only broken, but completely destroyed, and the 
 moral image of God, but faintly drawn before, now 
 perfected, and struck deep in every part. What joy 
 must this yield them, after years of panting and strug- 
 gling for conformity to God; especially, when they 
 
SLEEPING IN JESUS. 321 
 
 know, that they shall neither sin, nor be tempted to sin 
 any more. 
 
 They have left a world of darkness and sorrow, for a 
 world of eternal light and joy. At best while on earth, 
 they could only see through a glass darkly. They 
 found many things which confounded their understand- 
 ings, and cast a veil of mystery over the works of God; 
 things in his w ord and things in his providence, which 
 appeared dark and inscrutable. But now this darkness 
 is past, and the true light shines; — shines with a splen- 
 dour, which altogether transcends the conceptions of 
 mortals. The clouds are driven back from before the 
 face of God's throne, and a flood of light is poured 
 upon all the paths of his providence, \\hat enlarge- 
 ment of their faculties; what pure delight in behold- 
 ing the truth without a veil; what extatic joy, in see- 
 ing the harmony which runs through all God's works, 
 the great and the minute, the simple and the compli- 
 cated, all conspiring to show forth his own glory, and 
 to promote the happiness of the vast kingdom, which 
 He governs. Now the former things are passed away, 
 with all the sorrows which attended them. Whatever 
 could be called an evil in this world, they have left, 
 with their dying flesh, behind. They look from their 
 hills of light, and see us struggling with our calamities 
 and sufferings; but they have no longer any share in 
 them. They have taken up their abode in a world 
 where no curse is to be found. God has wiped away 
 all their tears — and sorrow and sighing, will forever 
 flee away. They shall hunger no more, and thirst no 
 more, and die no more. Neither disease, nor pain, nor 
 28* 
 
322 SLEEPING IN JESUS. 
 
 want shall ever enter their blest abodes. Their joys 
 are unmixed, exalted and eternal. 
 
 Think of the change in their society. From dwell- 
 ing with us, with all our sins and imperfections, they 
 have gone to be the companions of Abraham, Isaac 
 and Jacob, wnth all the prophets, apostles and martyrs, 
 in the kingdom of God; they have gone to enjoy the 
 innumerable company of saints and angels, which has 
 been increasing in the family of Heaven from the death 
 of Abel to the present hour. What high converse must 
 they hold with these pure and exalted beings; what 
 wonders must they recount to each other, of the con- 
 descending grace, of the eternal powder and wisdom of 
 God. Now they behold the face of their Redeemer 
 without a cloud; they see him not only as the lamb 
 slain from the foundation of the world, but as the lamb 
 in the midst of the throne, receiving the adoration of 
 surrounding millions, cherubim and seraphim, wor- 
 shipping with the church of the first born in those 
 higher courts. How transporting must their views of 
 Christ be. What joy must thrill their hearts, while 
 they reflect, that this is he who assumed their nature 
 and died upon the cross for their sakes; he in whom 
 they had so often hoped and trusted in the days of their 
 pilgrimage, and whom they had so earnestly desired to 
 see. Now they stand in the midst of his temple, and 
 worship at the foot of his throne: now they behold 
 him with unbeclouded eyes, and with the joyful as- 
 surance, that they shall never, never be separated from 
 him more. 
 
 But their employment is no less exalted than their 
 
SLEEPING IN JESUS. 323 
 
 society. They have done with all the grovelling cares 
 and pursuits of this world; henceforth they are kings 
 and priests unto God, serving him day and night in the 
 upper sanctuary. 
 
 What then is their bliss? Eye hath not seen; ear 
 hath not heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of 
 man to conceive. One hour of their felicity, far out- 
 weighs the enjoyment of the longest and happiest life 
 on earth. Why then should we mourn, that our Christ- 
 ian friends have gone to the land of promise — to their 
 Father's house in Heaven? They do not mourn for 
 themselves. The things which grieve us, do not grieve 
 them. We feel, perhaps, as if their expectations were 
 cut off, and death had come too soon. But they regard 
 it as the hour of their release, — a kind of jubilee, which 
 forever sets them free. We think of the friends which 
 they have left — of the pursuits and enjoyments, from 
 which they are separated; — but their felicity is, that 
 they have joined a company of more excellent friends — 
 and have exchanged the occupations and enjoyments of 
 a dungeon for those of a palace — knowing, at the same 
 time, that they who are worthy on earth, will soon 
 follow them. W^e think of the time and circumstances 
 of their departure, both of which are often distressing; 
 but they regret neither: they see, and WMth grateful and 
 adoring thoughts, acknowledge the w isdom and good- 
 ness of God in every thing. 
 
 Such is the state of those who have fallen asleep in 
 Christ. Yet this is not all: for, as we have already in- 
 timated, their flesh itself rests in hope: at the time ap- 
 pointed their sleeping dust shall hear the voice of the 
 
324 SLEEPING IN JESUS. 
 
 archangel and the trump of God; and shall come forth 
 from the grave, in new and glorious forms, prepared as 
 meet habitations for their immortal spirits. 
 
 Who can conceive the brightness of that morning 
 when the millions of the redeemed, from every part of 
 the habitable earth, and from the distant islands of the 
 sea, shall hear the sound of the last trumpet, and in a 
 moment, in the twinkling of an eye, burst the bars of 
 death, and spring to an immortal existence? Where 
 now the weakness and dishonour in which the body 
 was sown? Where now, corruption, earth, and worms? 
 All is changed. Their newly organized bodies are 
 bright, spiritual and immortal, pure as the flame, and 
 swift as the wind. Behold these joyful beings gather- 
 ing in one vast assembly at the i ight hand of their Re- 
 deemer I Hear them singing as they come, ten thousand, 
 thousand voices join in the strain: " Lol this is he who 
 vanquished death for you, who vanquished death for 
 me: — this is he who spoiled principalities and powers 
 and made a show of them openly, triumphing over 
 them in his cross. He hath redeemed us from the 
 grave; he hath delivered us from the curse; he hath 
 w^ashed us in his own blood. O death, where is thy 
 sting? grave, where is thy victory?" 
 
 Is this our hope for those who die in the Lord? Yes I 
 and for ourselves too, so far as we dare to hope that 
 we are the friends of Jesus. But alas I our faith is 
 weak; we feel the pressure of to-day, and hardly know 
 how to weigh the afflictionsof the present time, against 
 the glory which is hereafter to be revealed. Our senses 
 govern where reason and faith should lead the way. 
 
SLEEPING IN JESUS. 325 
 
 But let us endeavour to rise above the powers of sense; 
 let us renew our application to the word of God, and 
 receive those consolations which this precious word was 
 intended to bestow. 
 
 We mourn the loss of a father in Israel to-day; but 
 we do not mourn as those who mourn without hope. We 
 have every reason to believe, that he who now sleeps 
 before us, was the friend of Jesus, as w^ell as our friend 
 He had long sustained the character of exemplary piety. 
 Descended of parents who were pious, he was the sub- 
 ject of early instructions and early impressions, on the 
 great article of religion. He did not obtain a hope, 
 however, of his conversion, till he was about 27 years 
 of age; and so great was his diffidence in his own case, 
 that he was not admitted to the full communion of the 
 church till many yeais after. For more than twenty 
 years, he has sustained the office of deacon in this 
 church, and for a much longer period that of ruling 
 elder, in both of which he was eminently useful. 
 
 Seldom has a man passed through life with a more 
 unblemished character. The law of love, appeared to 
 rule his heart, and the law of kindness his tongue. He 
 was far removed from a bitter and unquiet spirit. His 
 habitual cheerfulness, and his known integrity, made 
 him a w^elcome visitant in every family, and often as 
 profitable as he was w^elcome. He was not afraid to 
 speak of the things of the kingdom, — and yet his con- 
 versation assumed such an air of meekness and benevo- 
 lence, as seldom to give offence. Men could bear a 
 reproof from him, though faithfully administered, which 
 they could not receive from others. They knew his 
 
326 SLEEPING IN JESUS. 
 
 motives; they knew that their own good, was the great 
 object at which he aimed. What a record must he 
 have in the bosoms of many, who will never see his 
 face but from afar. He was a kind and sympathizing 
 friend — and, to the extent of his means, he was liberal 
 and hospitable. There is one at least who can bear 
 witness, " that he knew the heart of a stranger." He 
 was eminent as a peace maker, and the first among his 
 brethren to visit the house of sorrow, and to pour the 
 balm of consolation into the wounded spirit. The 
 widow and the fatherless can not soon forget him. In 
 all his domestic relations, as a husband, as a father, as 
 a relative, he was tender, interesting and amiable. No 
 man could reproach him with the intentional neglect 
 of any social duty. As to his piety, it wore the cha- 
 racter of consistency and uniformity. He was strict 
 and conscientious in the performance of all its outward 
 duties, while it did not appear to be a mere outward 
 work with him. Seldom was his seat empty in the 
 house of the Lord, and never without a valid reason. 
 He was frequent in his attendance upon meetings for 
 special prayer, where he often led the devotions of the 
 Lord's people, much to their comfort and edification. 
 In visiting the sick, in caring for the poor, he used the 
 office of a deacon w^ell, and procured for himself the 
 approbation of his brethren, and, we trust, the appro- 
 bation of his God. 
 
 Though never remarkably confident of his own piety, 
 there were seasons in which it shone with too much 
 strength, not to secure the confidence of his Christian 
 friends. 
 
SLEEPING IN JESUS. 327 
 
 Towards the last, it plainly appeared that the Lord 
 was preparing him for his great change. He w^as much 
 excited, and felt a special delight in the exercises of 
 religion. The very evening before the shock, which 
 proved fatal, he attended a little praying assembly, and 
 expressed unusual pleasure in the devotions of that 
 evening. The closing hymn was like a new song, 
 w^hich touched every fibre of his heart.* During his 
 illness, which was short, and which he apprehended 
 might be his last, he stated to his friends, that the dread 
 of death was in a great measure removed, and by no 
 means such, as he had felt on former occasions. When 
 the last moment came, he was like one w-ho drops to 
 sleep without fear or perturbation. Thus closed the 
 life of this pious and useful member of society. And 
 where is the man, in this great assembly, who does not 
 say, " Let me die the death of the righteous, and let 
 my last end be like his." 
 
 What greater consolation, ye immediate mourners, 
 can we offer you? What greater consolation do you 
 need? Your friend has been spared to you to a good 
 old age,t and has closed his labours only because the 
 Lord has nothing farther for him to do. His whole 
 life was filled up with usefulness and duty; and his 
 very last act, employed about the interests of the 
 church. The Lord has removed him almost without 
 sickness or pain. His body, be believe, sleeps in Jesus, 
 while his spirit lives and reigns with the just. 
 
 * The hymn referred to. is the 77th, 2d Book, Watts. 
 t He died in his 74th year. 
 
328 SLEEPING IN JESUS. 
 
 Desire not his return to these regions of sin and 
 mortality: but rise in your affections to those heavenly 
 mansions where he is gone. Think of his employment, 
 think of his felicity; and prepare to meet him refined 
 from the dross of this evil world, and to stand with him 
 upon Mount Zion, where you may sing together the 
 song of Moses and the Lamb. You have sustained a 
 great loss, and the tear of sorrow is not forbidden to 
 flow: but murmur not against the will of God. 
 
 To the elders of this church, the partners of his offi- 
 cial duty, what shall I say? Is not his death a solemn 
 warning to you, — a solemn warning to me? We have 
 laboured together in the same field; we have been 
 overseers of the same flock; we shall meet as part of 
 our charge, the same souls, at the day of judgment, 
 and give up our account to the same Lord. How so- 
 lemn w^ill that account be, and how constantly should 
 we bear in mind, that the hour is at hand, in which our 
 work will be done, and our account sealed against the 
 day of retribution. 
 
 Did our brother feel for the sheep who had wandered 
 from the fold, and earnestly seek their return? Did he 
 warn and entreat with all long suffering and patience, 
 and never give over, but with the greatest reluctance? 
 How little must his zeal and labours appear to him 
 now; now^ that his eyes are opened upon eternity, and 
 he beholds without a vail, the value of those interests 
 which engaged his attention on earth. Coiddhe speak 
 to us from Heaven, w^ould he not exhort and charge us 
 to renew our diligence, and to execute our trust, with 
 
SLEEPING IN JESUS. 329 
 
 unshaken fidelity, " On some having compassion, mak- 
 ing a difference; and others saving with fear, pulling 
 them out of the fire?" But I must forbear. 
 
 Let every Christian in this assembly, be excited by 
 this mournful scene, to prepare for his own dissolution. 
 One* of your brethren, to whom you were tenderly 
 united, has finished his warfare, and closed his labours 
 among you. He will never visit your houses, or coun- 
 sel you in private any more. He will never again 
 distribute to you the holy symbols of Christ's broken 
 body and shed blood. He has gone to minister in a 
 higher sanctuary, where these symbols are not needed; 
 where the crucified Saviour is forever unvailed to ador- 
 ing saints. You will see him no more at your praying 
 assemblies, — nor join with him in confessing your sins. 
 and imploring God's mercy. You will finish the 
 solemnities of this day, by committing his remains to 
 the tomb, in the hope of a joyful resurrection. Long 
 may you remember his example, and cherish the vir- 
 tues which shone so conspicuously in him. " Help, 
 Lord I" should you cry, '* for the godly man ceaseth, 
 and the faithful fail from among men." Ardently 
 beseech Him, with whom is the residue of the spirit, 
 that He would shed down his influence upon us, and 
 raise up many, w^ho shall bear the ark of the Lord, 
 when our fathers are fallen asleep. 
 
 But is nothing to be said to the sinner, who, though 
 hasting to the bar of judgment, is manifestly unprepared 
 to die? You feel a respect for this man of God, whose 
 funeral service has brought so many within the walls 
 of this sacred house. You have no doubt that he took 
 29 
 
330 SLEEPING IN JESUS. 
 
 a deep interest in your welfare, and often sent up his 
 prayers to Heaven in your behalf. You are willing to 
 mingle your sorrows with his friends, and to drop a 
 tear upon his grave. But why not follow his example? 
 Why not lead his life? Can you die wath safety with- 
 out this? Can you enter into the rest promised to the 
 righteous? An impenitent and unbelieving heart will 
 forever disqualify you for the kingdom of God. If 
 death find you in this state, it will find you under the 
 curse; and, as the minister of God's justice, cut you 
 oflf in your sins. Deplorable end ! Where Jesus and 
 his departed saints are gone, you can never come. 
 
SERMON XVIII.* 
 
 THANKSGIVING. 
 
 PSALM LXV., 11. 
 " Thou crownest the year with thy goodness^ 
 
 The goodness of God is one of the most conspicuous 
 attributes of his nature, — and, when comprehensively 
 viewed, may be considered as embracing the whole of 
 his moral perfections. His very justice in punishing 
 the finally obdurate, is but an expression of his goodness 
 towards his kingdom at large, as every one can per- 
 ceive, who admits that order among his creatures is 
 essential to their happiness. Even his truth, his 
 unchangeable truth, is only another form of that bene- 
 volence w^hich He exercises towards his holy and 
 everlasting kingdom: or, to say the least, his bound- 
 less goodness necessarily draws after it his infallible 
 truth; for if we could suppose it possible that he 
 should prove unfaithful or untrue, the happiness of his 
 friends would instantly be overthrown, and their bright- 
 est hopes swept away. 
 
 The living oracles teach that " God is love," and 
 
 * A Sermon, delivered December 12, 1822, recommended by 
 the Governor of the State to be observed as a day of public thanks- 
 giving and prayer. 
 
332 THANKSGIVING. 
 
 love of the most disinterested and diffusive character. 
 They represent Him as an infinite fountain of love, 
 continually pouring out streams of kindness and bene- 
 ficence to his creatures. What else but a benevolence 
 communicative and boundless, could have induced Him 
 to give birth to the numerous orders of beings which 
 people the vast universe, and to make so liberal a pro- 
 vision for their wants? If the self-existent Creator had 
 not delighted in their happiness, creation would never 
 have begun ; all w^ould have been blank, from the tallest 
 seraph that burns and adores before his throne, to the 
 insect that flutters in the summer's sun and dies. That 
 He should create beings to make them miserable, is 
 impossible, — seeing He could have no motive to this, 
 unless you suppose Him disinterestedly malevolent, — 
 an idea at once blasphemous of the Creator, and con- 
 tradicted by all the operations of his hand. That He 
 should create them with an indifference to their happi- 
 ness or misery, is to suppose Him to act without an end; 
 a sentiment equally incompatible with his wisdom and 
 his goodness, and alike contrary to every man's expe- 
 rience and observation. 
 
 The truth is, that independent of the scriptures, God 
 has not left himself without witness that He is good 
 and does good continually. Every where do we be- 
 hold the proofs of his kind and wonder-working hand. 
 In all the forms of sensitive existence which crowd 
 the world we inhabit, — the earth, — the air, — the sea, 
 what a train of causes do we notice, all subordinated 
 to the great purpose of benevolence, — all leading to 
 safety or enjoyment in the end. Take up any single 
 
THANKSGIVING. 333 
 
 class of beings, and these classes are almost innumera- 
 ble, — observe the circumstances in which they com- 
 mence their existence, the provision which is made for 
 their support, the numerous sources of their enjoyment, 
 and the multiplied means of their defence, and you will 
 be alike astonished at the depths of the Divine wisdom 
 and of the Divine goodness. Take a still wider view, 
 and contemplate the almost infinitely diversified orders 
 of creatures in this lower world; mark how closely one 
 order is linked to another, and by what various means 
 they contribute to each other's welfare, — while the 
 beneficent care of the Creator is extended to them all 
 — a care as minute as comprehensive, as if each were 
 the only object of his attention, — and you can hardly 
 fail to exclaim with the Psalmist — " O Lord, how 
 manifold are thy works! in wisdom hast thou made 
 them all." But if in wisdom, — then in goodness; — for 
 nothing is wise in the Psalmist's sense of the expression, 
 which is not also good; and therefore he adds, "The 
 earth is full of thy riches, and so is the great and wide 
 sea, wherein are things creeping and innumerable, 
 both small and great beasts." It was natural to his 
 devout and contemplative mind to give this excursive 
 range to his thoughts; and it was useful as it was natu- 
 ral ; for the more he considered God's works, the more 
 he saw of his greatness and goodness, and the more 
 exalted were his thanksgiving and praise. While 
 however God's goodness to his creatures at large, was 
 often the subject of his attention — ^^more frequently, 
 and in tones of deeper feeling, do we find him dwel- 
 ling upon the goodness of God towards man, his poor 
 29* 
 
334 
 
 THANKSGIVING. 
 
 rebellious creature man. This was the subject which 
 strung his sacred lyre, and tuned his voice to melody 
 in the psalm before us. 
 
 It was not simply the universal Creator and Preserver, 
 that called forth his praise, — but the God of mercy, — 
 the God that heareth prayer, — and purgeth away the 
 transgression of his people — " the God of our salva- 
 tion" and " the confidence of all the ends of the earth, 
 and of them that are afar off upon the sea." This 
 glorious Being who •' by his strength setteth fast the 
 mountains" — " who stilleth the noise of the seas, the 
 noise of their waves, and the tumult of the people" — 
 this glorious Being exercising a government over men 
 gracious and benignant, powerful and wise, is the im- 
 mediate object of the Psalmist's devout and grateful 
 adoration. But he adores and praises God chiefly for 
 his goodness, — goodness which returns to us with every 
 morning and evening, and holds its joyful course 
 through the various seasons to the close of the year. 
 
 " Thou makest the outgoings of the morning and 
 evening to rejoice, — thou visitest the earth and water- 
 est it, — thou greatly enrichest it with the river of God 
 which is full of w^ater, — thou preparest them corn 
 when thou hast so provided for it, — thou waterest the 
 ridges thereof abundantly, — thou settlest the furrows 
 thereof, — thou makest it soft with showers, — thou bless- 
 est the springing thereof, — thou crow^nest the year 
 with thy goodness, and thy paths drop fatness; they 
 drop upon the pastures of the wilderness, and the little 
 hills rejoice on every side. The pastures are clothed 
 with flocks; the valleys also are covered over with 
 
THANKSGIVING. 335 
 
 corn; they shout for joy; they also sing." And shall 
 not man sing, for whom all these mercies are wrought, 
 and on whom this unwearied goodness is bestowed? 
 Shall he not recount the loving kindness of the Lord, 
 and praise him with joyful lips? This is a duty in 
 which the Psalmist greatly delighted, and in which we 
 ought to delight. The church in all ages has made it 
 a conspicuous part of her public service; and the re- 
 deemed in Heaven, united with the angelic choir, will 
 never cease to be engaged in a solemn recognition of 
 the Divine goodness, and in pouring forth correspondent 
 songs of gratitude and praise. 
 
 Assembled in the house of God this morning at the 
 call of the chief magistrate of this state, for the pur- 
 pose of performing this most reasonable duty, let us 
 advert in the first place to some of those indications of 
 Divine goodness which justify the call. 
 
 We can none of us deny that we have been the sub- 
 jects of great and special mercies, which involve us in 
 a debt of gratitude to that Almighty Being on whom 
 we all depend. But how to bring these before the 
 mind so as most deeply to affect us, is a point of the 
 greatest difficulty. Many of our blessings are so com- 
 mon, and have returned upon us with such uniformity 
 from our early years, that they are in danger of losing 
 much of their value in our estimation. Many of them, 
 though of unspeakable importance, and especially 
 those of a spiritual kind, are likely to be little regarded 
 through the blindness of our hearts. Nay, the very 
 multitude of our mercies, instead of awakening in us 
 an increased sensibility, too often has the effect of 
 
336 
 
 THANKSGIVING. 
 
 blunting the sense of obligation, by leading us to con- 
 sider what we receive as a matter of right, rather than 
 as a matter of favour. Putting ourselves upon our 
 guard therefore against the influence of these seductive 
 causes, let us glance a moment, at the more prominent 
 instances of the Divine goodness which this day call 
 for gratitude and acknowledgment. 
 
 1. To a great extent, God has given us health 
 throughout our borders. Rarely have the citizens of 
 this state enjoyed a greater portion of this blessing 
 than has been measured out to them the last year. In- 
 dividuals indeed, and here and there a neighbourhood, 
 have been visited with sickness; but Providence has 
 been gracious to us, in limiting and restraining this 
 calamity — and has no where permitted any sweeping 
 epidemic or destroying pestilence to prevail. In some 
 of our sister states, it has been otherwise, — and hun- 
 dreds and thousands have been hurried into an untimely 
 grave. While we sympathize with them under this 
 painful visitation, it would be highly criminal on our 
 part, not to notice the kindness of the Lord in spreading 
 the wings of his protection over us. 
 
 Health is one of those favours on which all our other 
 blessings in no small degree depend. Without it, what is 
 wealth 1 What is honour ? And the richest supply of our 
 temporal wants? In vain are our barns filled with plenty, 
 and our presses made to burst out with new wine; in vain 
 are our tables loaded with all the delicacies of domestic 
 and foreign climes, if pale disease confine us to the 
 walls of a sick room, and we are compelled to vs^ear 
 out wearisome days and nights in pain and languish- 
 
THANKSGIVING. 
 
 337 
 
 ment. Nothing satisfies, — nothing exhilarates. Every 
 object in nature loses its charms, while our enfeebled 
 spirits depress us, and our debilitated bodies incapa- 
 citate for all the useful occupations and tender offices 
 of life. They alone who have felt the power of disease 
 can fully estimate its privations and sufferings, or can 
 duly appreciate the blessing of health. I ask such of 
 you as God has recently raised from a sick bed and 
 restored again to your wonted vigour; to your places at 
 your table and at your fire side; to your endearing 
 intercourse with your families; and to your various 
 and useful employments in society: I ask you, if the 
 blessing of health be not enhanced by its loss? and if 
 you do not esteem it one of the precious gifts of life; 
 a favour which should claim a tribute of humble and 
 thankful acknowledgment] Ungrateful indeed shall 
 we be, if this blessing, enjoyed by so great a portion 
 of the community, do not awaken in our bosoms some 
 suitable sense of the Divine goodness, and excite us to 
 pour forth our hearts in thankfulness and praise. 
 
 2. God has blessed us also in the seasons of the year. 
 If the products of the earth have not been so universally 
 abundant as in some former years, yet there has been 
 no considerable failure. Seed time and harvest have 
 been continued according to the Divine promise, and 
 the husbandman has been permitted to sow in hope, and 
 reap in mercy, — and in some cases with joy. By a 
 propitious interchange of sunshine and rain, the suc- 
 cessive fruits of the seasons have been brought to per- 
 fes^tion — and both the former and latter harvest have 
 been gathered without loss. If all have not gathered 
 
338 
 
 THANKSGIVING. 
 
 according to their expectations, still there is an abund- 
 ance, and no want is feared either to man, or the crea- 
 tures which God has given for the service of man. 
 This is a felicity common indeed to our country — but 
 ought not therefore to be passed over in ungrateful 
 silence. It is owing to the good hand of God upon 
 us, — the smiles of his gracious providence, that our 
 seasons have been so favourable, and paiticularly that 
 the closing part of them has been so mild and benignant, 
 and calculated to supply any deficiencies which might 
 have been apprehended from those which preceded. 
 Herein we remark the super-abounding goodness of 
 our Creator and Preserver, — how constant and tender 
 his care, — and how true it is that his mercy is above 
 our thoughts, and better than our fears. Let us not 
 refuse to give thanks unto Him. and to bless his glorious 
 name — saying with the Psalmist, " Thou crownest the 
 year with thy goodness, and thy paths drop fatness." 
 Were it necessary on this subject to make a farther ap- 
 peal, I might desire you to contrast your situation with 
 suffering Ireland, and some parts of British India, in 
 the course of the past year, where thousands of our 
 fellow beings have beeen reduced to all the horrours of 
 famine — and to the pestilence which usually follows in 
 its train. Who is it that hath caused us to differ? And 
 why has our cup been made to run over with goodness, 
 while those more ignorant, and far less guilty than we, 
 have been subjected to the keenest distresses? Great 
 God ! it is owing to thine eternal mercy, which is rich 
 and discriminating as it is free. " Bless the Lord" 
 then " my soul, and all that is within me bless his 
 
THANKSGIVING. 339 
 
 holy name. Bless the Lord my soul, and forget not 
 all his benefits." He " redeemeth thy life from destruc- 
 tion, and crowneth thee with loving kindness and tender 
 mercies." He " satisfieth thy mouth with good things, 
 so that thy youth is renew^ed like the eagles." 
 
 3. But there is another blessing which distinguishes 
 us from the great mass of the human family, and which 
 calls for our devout and grateful acknowledgment — I 
 mean the blessing of a free and enlightened govern- 
 ment. 
 
 Civil government is an ordinance of God, and there 
 are various forms of it, which, when w^isely adminis- 
 tered, may become instrumental both of much security 
 and happiness. But of all the forms which it has as- 
 sumed, there is none which is so honourable to our 
 nature, so grateful to our feelings, and as I apprehend, 
 so compatible w^ith our rights, as that which has been 
 generally denominated a republican form of govern- 
 ment, — a government which knows no privileged or- 
 ders, — but which offers to every man equal security, 
 and according to his talents and means, an equal pros- 
 pect of honour and success. Such a government we 
 have — a government of our own choice — where the 
 rulers and the ruled sustain a relation to each other, 
 calculated to produce a high sense of responsibility in 
 the one — and a peaceful submission to law and good 
 rule in the other. 
 
 I know that the stability of this government has 
 often been questioned, and that the advocates of royalty 
 have predicted its early dissolution. Grounding their 
 reasonings upon the state of society in ancient and 
 
340 THANKSCrVlNG. 
 
 modern Europe, and upon the turbulence known to 
 exist under certain popular governments, they have 
 imagined that no nation on earth possessed knowledge 
 and virtue sufficient to govern itself, independent of 
 imperial and hereditary power. But happily for us, 
 the experiment has shewn that their conclusions were 
 false. Our government, after a trial of thirty years, is 
 found to be unspeakably more firm than at the beginning. 
 It has a far deeper hold of the hearts of the people, 
 and is sustained, both in its principles and administra- 
 tion, by the manly voice of millions of freemen, heard 
 from one extremity of the land to the other. Beloved 
 at home and respected abroad, it stands forth with proud 
 and enviable distinction, among the first political in- 
 stitutions of the world. 
 
 It is not to my present purpose to delineate the pe- 
 culiar features of our government, or to shew^ its 
 happy adaptation to the w^ants of the people; but 
 when I reflect upon the broad and equitable principles 
 on which it is based — the many wise and salutary 
 provisions it embraces — and more than all, when I re- 
 member the severe trials through which it has passed, 
 acquiring confidence as it has proceeded, I can have no 
 doubt for myself, either of its strength or its permanency. 
 But suppose it were to dissolve to-morrow, where is 
 the man who can say it has not been a great and in- 
 estimable blessing while it lasted? Under its fostering 
 hand, how^ rapid has been our improvement in science 
 and in the arts; how steadily has every great national 
 interest been pursued and promoted, while every man 
 has been securely protected in his own rights, and the 
 
THANKSGIVING. 34 1 
 
 most important facilities afforded of gradually increas- 
 ing in the means of personal and social enjoyment. 
 
 If we are not contented and happy as a people, it is 
 not the fault of government; for though I ascribe 
 neither unerring wisdom, nor sinless fidelity to our 
 rulers, I have no hesitation in saying, that both the 
 principles of our government, and the general character 
 of its administration, are entitled to the grateful notice 
 of a rising and prosperous people. In what portion of 
 the habitable world can there be found, at this moment, 
 a nation in all respects as free and happy as ours? 
 Many are still groaning under the wrongs and op- 
 pressions of ages, with little more of liberty than the 
 cattle in their fields: many are pressed down with 
 public burdens, and doomed to yield their earnings to 
 the support of men in their civil and ecclesiastical es- 
 tablishments, whom they neither love nor venerate, and 
 whom no agency of theirs can exert the smallest in- 
 fluence in displacing or correcting: many are struggling 
 for liberty, under accumulating difficulties, with scarcely 
 enough of political science or physical strength, to at- 
 tain the object of their wishes; — while some in our 
 southern hemisphere, are just emerging from a sea of 
 blood, shed in the defence of their natural rights — with 
 good hope indeed of better times, and a brighter day — 
 but who have not yet reached that perfect organization, 
 which will ensure them a quiet and peaceful order of 
 things. 0! while we pray for the prosperity of all 
 nations, let us not forget those who are struggling for 
 civil and religious liberty, in whatever part of the 
 globe they may be found; and above all, let us not for- 
 30 
 
342 THANKSGIVING. 
 
 get our Christian brethren the Greeks, who are making 
 a mighty effort to throw off the yoke of the followers 
 of Mahomed, — a yoke of the most cruel despotism, 
 worn for ages by these hapless sufferers. If ever a 
 nation deserved the sympathy of the world, they are 
 that nation: and that Christian nations should look on 
 and do nothing, except it be to impede their exertions, 
 is a matter of just surprise, at least to those who are 
 unacquainted with the selfish policy of European cabi- 
 nets. But why do I advert to the condition of other 
 nations? It is to make us grateful for the blessings 
 which distinguish our own. We are a free and in- 
 dependent people, enjoying all the benefits of good and 
 wholesome laws — unmolested without, and blessed be 
 God, undisturbed within. And to w'hom are w^e in- 
 debted for all this? Ultimately, to Him who holds the 
 destinies of all nations in his hand, who lifts them up 
 and casts them down, — who enlargeth, and straiteneth 
 them again at his pleasure. " let us then give thanks 
 unto the Lord, for his goodness;" let us say in the 
 language of David, " Great is the Lord, and of great 
 power — his understanding is infinite. Sing unto the 
 Lord with thanksgiving; sing praise upon the harp 
 unto our God, for He hath strengthened the bars of thy 
 gates; He hath blessed thy children w^ithin thee; He 
 maketh peace in thy borders, and filleth thee with the 
 finest of the w^heat — He hath not dealt so w^ith any 
 nation: Praise ye the Lord." 
 
 4. But we have other cause to praise Him, — and 
 cause of much higher import. To Him we are indebted 
 for our spiritual privileges and hopes. We have been 
 
THANKSGIVING. 343 
 
 born and educated under the light of the gospel, — a 
 light of the most cheering and purifying character. 
 God sent his Son from Heaven to expiate our sins, and 
 open the way for our salvation. He sent him as a 
 prophet, as well as a priest, to disperse our moral dark- 
 ness, and teach us the way of God truly. The gospel 
 discloses his character, his doctrines, and his works, — 
 and taken in connection w^th Moses, the Psalms, and 
 the Prophets, presents a copious and all-sufficient reve- 
 lation of the Divine will. This revelation constitutes 
 the Bible, — a book which we have all had in our hands 
 from our very infancy, — and whose infinitely important 
 truths have been expounded to us, by one means or 
 another, from our childhood to the present hour. This 
 blessed book gives form to our religion, — is the chief 
 foundation of our morality, — and may be assigned as 
 the principal cause, that our morality is both more pure 
 and extensive than the morality of Greece or Rome, or 
 any of the nations composing the heathen world. To 
 this in like manner are w^e indebted, in no small degree, 
 for the wisdom and equity of our laws, and for the 
 mild and benignant character of all our civil institutions. 
 Looking no farther then than the present life, we are 
 bound to give thanks unto God for the pure and sacred 
 light of the gospel. It has shed a propitious influence 
 upon all our earthly interests. It has taught us the 
 value of our social relations — marked out with preci- 
 sion their appropriate duties, — and furnished the most 
 powerful motives to a faithful discharge of them. We 
 are better fathers and sons, — better mothers and daugh- 
 ters, — better husbands and wives, — better and happier 
 
344 THANKSGIVING. 
 
 in all our relations, than if the light of the blessed gos- 
 pel had never dawned upon our shores. But this is the 
 least part of the blessing. The gospel contemplates us 
 in the light of immortal beings, and makes provision 
 for, while it discloses our immortality. It points out 
 the true and only path to Heaven. It tells us that God 
 will forgive sin, and the conditions on which He w411 
 forgive it. It calls us all to repentance, and bids us 
 believe on the name of the only begotten Son of God; 
 and to the performance of these duties it annexes the 
 gracious piomise of pardon and life everlasting. It 
 pours a full and consoling light upon the character of 
 God, and the paths of his providence; it teaches us 
 plainly what we are by nature, and what we must be 
 by grace. In a word, it furnishes abundant matter of 
 instruction on all that pertains to our spiritual and im- 
 mortal concerns, and may properly be designated " The 
 Word of Life." 
 
 In all this, w^e say nothing of the use which we make 
 of it, or of the consequences which may follow upon its 
 abuse. Like all our other mercies, it may be the means 
 of raising us to honour and felicity, or sinking us to 
 greater depths of woe. It is sufficient for our present 
 purpose, to consider it as an appropriate and indispensa- 
 ble mean of salvation, which should call forth the loudest 
 notes of thanksgiving and praise. 
 
 I add to this, that it is not only the means of grace 
 so abundantly enjoyed that ought to awaken our grati- 
 tude, but the blessing of God upon these means. Several 
 of our towns and villages, to the number of fifteen or 
 twenty, have been visited by the special out-pouring of 
 
THANKSGIVING. 345 
 
 the Spirit the last year, and large accessions have been 
 made to the number of the faithful. Seldom has this 
 state witnessed a more gracious visitation. And though, 
 as to this town and vicinity, it has been a year of 
 spiritual drought and barrenness, a circumstance which 
 calls for humiliation, it need not — and it ought not to 
 repress our joy and thanksgiving for the mercies vouch- 
 safed to others. Let us exalt and praise the King of 
 Zion for what He hath done; and the wider our circle 
 of vision extends, the greater be our rapture, and the 
 more exalted our song. Every fresh conversion among 
 sinners, gives new inspiration to the joy of angels. 
 Why should it not move the hearts of God's people on 
 earth? 
 
 Rut how^ shall we testify our thankfulness to God, 
 for this and all his other mercies? I have said, that we 
 should praise Him, — and praise Him with joyful lips; 
 and I add, that this should be done both publicly and 
 privately, — in our religious assemblies and around our 
 family altars, — in our prayers and songs of melody. 
 But in exercising and expressing our gratitude to God, 
 various things are requisite. It is necessary to preserve 
 in our minds, a particular and affectionate recollection 
 of his mercies. Without this, we shall neither be 
 thankful, nor show^ forth our thankfulness in a manner 
 acceptable to our great Benefactor. It is necessary to 
 maintain upon our hearts, a deep and powerful sense 
 of the obligations, under which his mercies have laid 
 us. They bind us to a grateful remembrance of Him, — 
 to high and adoring thoughts of his goodness, — and to 
 a ready and cheerful consecration of all our powers and 
 30* 
 
346 THANKSGIVING. 
 
 means to his service. This is what we owe indeed 
 from our creation, — i'rom our natural and necessary 
 dependence upon Him as the physical and moral Go- 
 vernor of the world; but the obligation is deepened by 
 his unceasing care over us, and his merciful attention 
 to our wants. Our sense of obligation ought therefore 
 to keep pace with his goodness, — and this goodness 
 should strike us the more, because bestowed on crea- 
 tures the most ill-deserving. This is the very essence 
 of gratitude; and I know of no better way of express- 
 ing it, than by yielding a cheerful obedience to God's 
 commands, — praising Him in the manner before men- 
 tioned, — and carefully imitating his goodness. This 
 last, the Apostle has assured us, is among the sacrifices 
 with which God is well pleased, and it is a sacrifice in 
 the highest degree reasonable. Do we subsist upon 
 his bounty? And should we speedily fall into suffering 
 and want were He to withhold the kindness of his hand? 
 How just and suitable is it, that we should look with 
 compassion upon others, and extend to them our chari- 
 table regards? Have we the poor among us? They 
 are God's receivers; nor can we neglect them without 
 insulting his authority, and despising the riches of his 
 goodness. " Who hath made thee to differ? And 
 what hast thou that thou hast not received?" And 
 wherefore hast thou received it? Is it not that, as a 
 faithful steward of God's bounty, thou mayest kindly 
 and promptly administer to those that stand in need? 
 Hear then the cry of the widow and the orphan, — and 
 turn not away from the poor that are within thy gates. 
 To-day the Father of mercies invites us to imitate his 
 
THANKSGIVING. 347 
 
 goodness, — to cast an eye round upon the habitations 
 of poverty, — and by our charities, to make glad the 
 hearts of the children of want and of sorrow. The 
 season of the year, as well as the solemn service of the 
 day, renders this duty peculiarly appropriate. " Freely 
 we have received — freely let us give." And may He 
 who loves and rewards the cheerful giver, remember us 
 in mercy, in the day when the rich and the poor shall 
 meet together, before his spotless and eternal throne. 
 
SERMON XIX.^ 
 
 DUTY OF SUSTAINING AN EDUCATED MINISTRY. 
 
 ROMANS X., 14. 
 " And hoio shall they hear without a preacher ?" 
 
 We are assembled this evening to contemplate an 
 interesting object of charity, that of training up indi- 
 gent and pious youth for the gospel ministry; an object 
 not new indeed to the Christian world, but which per- 
 haps has never been embraced with the zeal which its 
 importance requires. 
 
 It is gratifying to believe that the friends of Zion 
 are beginning to awake to this subject, and that the 
 day is not far distant when ceasing to look with an eye 
 of indifference over the vast fields already white to the 
 harvest, they will feel as if the time had fully come 
 not only to pray for an increase of labourers, but to 
 put forth all their strength in preparing men for this 
 service. 
 
 The efforts which have been made within the last 
 ten years, may be considered as a joyful pledge of what 
 is yet to be done in this benevolent enterprise. But 
 
 *A Sermon, preached May 12, 1819, in the Cedar Street Church, 
 New York, before the Education Society of the Presbyterian 
 Church in the United States of America. 
 
DUTY OF SUSTAINING AN EDUCATED MINISTRY. 349 
 
 the object must be seen by us in all its magnitude be- 
 fore it will be taken up with sufficient energy. We 
 must be brought to believe that the gospel ministry is 
 the grand instrument of carrying into effect the pur- 
 pose of salvation — that there is an alarming deficiency 
 of men in this sacred office — and that it is oar duty, to 
 the utmost of our power, to increase their number. 
 
 These topics, suggested by the text and by the pas- 
 sage with which it stands connected, it will be the 
 object of the present discourse to set a little more dis- 
 tinctly before you. 
 
 I. That the gospel ministry is the grand instrument 
 of carrying into effect the purpose of salvation. 
 
 The Apostle asserts, that under the dispensation of 
 the gospel there is between Jew and Greek no differ- 
 ence; " For the same Lord over all is rich unto all that 
 call upon Him," of whatever nation. " For whoso- 
 ever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be 
 saved. But how shall they call on Him, in whom they 
 have not believed? And how shall they believe in 
 Him of whom they have not heard? And how shall they 
 hear without a preacher? And how shall they preach 
 except they be sent? As it is written. How beautiful are 
 the feet of them that preach the gospel of peace, and bring 
 glad tidingsof good things!" That the living teacher is 
 here meant, in distinction from the revelation which God 
 has made of himself, is too obvious to require distinct 
 proof. The Apostle's argument is plainly this: Men 
 must call upon the name of the Lord, that is, the Lord 
 Jesus, and thus recognize the truth of his mission and 
 the glory of his divine character, in order to be saved j 
 
350 DUTY OF SUSTAINING AN EDUCATED MINISTRY. 
 
 they must believe in Jesus that they may call upon 
 him; they must hear of him to believe; and he must 
 be preached to them, and preached by those who are 
 sent, that they may hear. And hence the conclusion, 
 " That faith cometh by hearing, and hearing by the 
 word of God." But does faith never come but where 
 the word of God is heard from the living teacher? 
 There is no necessity of pressing the inference to this 
 length. It will be enough if w^e adopt what appears 
 to be the sense of the Apostle, that the preaching of the 
 gospel by men duly authorized is the principal means 
 appointed by God for salvation; and that ordinarily, 
 w^e are not to expect men to believe unto life eternal 
 where this institution is either grossly perverted or 
 entirely wanting. 
 
 This is a point of too much consequence not to com- 
 mand our attention. Ever since the revelation of mercy 
 to this lost world, God has had some to make knowm 
 his will and to inculcate a scrupulous regard to it. It 
 was so in the patriarchal ages, before and after the 
 flood. It was so preeminently under the Jewish dis- 
 pensation, when, besides prophets w^ho w^ere raised up 
 to perform special services, one whole tribe, and nearly 
 every twelfth man in the nation, was devoted to the 
 work of the sanctuary, which included the offices of 
 religious instruction. When the Lord Jesus appeared 
 in the flesh, he himself became a preacher of righteous- 
 ness; and as soon as he had prepared his disciples, he 
 sent them out clothed with authority to dispense the 
 word of life. After he had risen from the dead, he 
 enlarged their commission, and charged them to go 
 
DUTY OF SUSTAINING AN EDUCATED MINISTRY. 351 
 
 forth among the nations and preach the gospel to every 
 creature, adding " Lo I am with you always even unto 
 the end of the word;" a promise which not only sanc- 
 tions the ministry of the word till his second coming, 
 but declares his supreme importance as a mean of sal- 
 vation. In accordance with this, we are assured, that 
 *' When he ascended up on high, he gave some, apos- 
 tles; and some, prophets; and some, evangelists; and 
 some pastors and teachers, for the perfecting of the 
 saints, for the work of the ministry, for the edifying 
 of the body of Christ." 
 
 The mere fact, that the ministry of reconciliation is 
 established as a perpetual ordinance in the church, is 
 no slender indication of its high instrumentality in the 
 business of our salvation. But when we read, that it 
 was expressly designed " To turn men from darkness 
 to light and from the power of Satan unto God;" and 
 that it is " By the foolishness of preaching, it pleases 
 God to save them that believe," we cannot hesitate to 
 place it first among the means which divine wisdom has 
 selected for bringing men to the knowledge of the 
 truth. 
 
 Nor let us suppose that the great Head of the church 
 will ordinarily dispense with this mean. While it does 
 not become us to limit the Holy One of Israel; and while 
 we admit that nothing would be easier than for Him to 
 enlighten and sanctify the soul without the agency of 
 men, yet it is not derogatory to Him to say that this is not 
 to be looked for. He is a God of means, and often uses 
 them when it is manifest they have no other tendency 
 than to show the dependence of the creature, and the 
 
352 DUTY OF SUSTAINING AN EDUCATED MINISTRY. 
 
 glory of his power. Thus it was when He bid Moses 
 stretch out his rod over the sea and divide it, and make a 
 "way for the ransomed of the Lord to pass over; and when 
 by means of the same rod he brought water out of the 
 rock to satisfy his thirsty people in the wilderness. 
 We have an example of the same kind in the use 
 which our Lord made of the clay to open the eyes of 
 the man born blind. In neither case was there any 
 tendency in the means to accomplish their end, except 
 so far that they a ere of divine appointment. And we 
 naturally conclude that if in cases of such an extraordina- 
 ry character, God has chosen means to bring about his 
 purpose, He will not readily depart from those which 
 He has formally established in the more ordinary dis- 
 pensations of his providence. Where these are settled 
 and known, it is presumption to expect the end with- 
 out them. Who ever thinks of reaping without sow- 
 ing? Or gathering his harvest without labourers? 
 Scarcely less irrational would it be to expect the gospel 
 to spread and take effect, without the agency of those 
 whom Christ has called to minister in his name. Surely 
 God will not work a miracle to set aside his own in- 
 stitutions, and to encourage his people in sloth. 
 
 We derive an argument for the necessity of the gos- 
 pel ministry from the very condition of our fallen race, 
 ignorant of God and of themselves, slaves to their guilty 
 passions, and secure in an evil course. 
 
 To accomplish their salvation you must awaken their 
 attention — penetrate them with a sense of their sins, 
 and through the knowledge of a Saviour, lead them 
 back to God whom they have forsaken. What means 
 
DUTY OF SUSTAINING AN EDUCATED MINISTRY. 353 
 
 will you employ? Will you send them the Bible? 
 They are so deeply immersed in their cares and plea- 
 sures, so entirely alienated from every thing which the 
 Bible either reveals or inculcates, that they will not go 
 to this sacred book for instruction — and if they should, it 
 would seldom be with that interest or intelligence which 
 could promise any important result. Its sublime and 
 glorious doctrines would not readily be understood, 
 either separately considered, or in the important rela- 
 tion which they bear to each other. Much ignorance 
 pervades the minds of many to whom the gospel is 
 constantly, ably, and faithfully preached, which is no 
 doubtful proof of what the result w^ould be if this im- 
 portant privilege was denied. 
 
 I venerate the zeal which is now awake to spread 
 the Bible through the earth. I feel confident that the 
 hand of the Lord is in this movement; and that the 
 issue will be the advancement of the cause of truth and 
 righteousness in the world. But the Christian ministry 
 must rise and be carried forward with it, or the effort 
 will in a great measure prove abortive. There must 
 be men skilled in the word of life, to lay open its doc- 
 trines and inculcate its precepts, — men of holy and. 
 apostolic zeal to proclaim its sanctions and rewards, — 
 men who expostulate and intreat in Christ's name, — 
 living depositaries of the truth, whose example no less 
 than their doctrines, shall preach loudly to a sinful 
 world. Without a provision of this kind, little will be 
 accomplished in the great work of salvation, though 
 you should translate the Bible into every language 
 31 
 
354 DUTY OF SUSTAINING AN EDUCATED MINISTRY. 
 
 under Heaven, and diffuse it as widely as the habita- 
 tions of men. 
 
 What would become of the arts and sciences, not- 
 withstanding their present foothold in society, and the 
 volumes in which their principles are ably discussed, 
 were we at once to shut up every place of instruction, 
 and to banish from the earth those whose business it is 
 to teach them? How soon would the lights of science 
 be put out, and men return again to a state of barba- 
 rism? Why should it not be so with respect to reli- 
 gion, the most profound as well as most important of 
 all sciences? And the rather, because there is in the 
 human heart a deep aversion to its sacred truths. 
 
 If any still doubt on the subject, let the history of 
 the church be appealed to. Where has the gospel pre- 
 vailed without the instrumentality of its ministers? 
 Where has it been planted, or where taken root, but 
 through the assiduous labours of men, commissioned 
 by its author and devoted to his cause? 
 
 Individuals indeed may have been brought to the 
 knowledge of the truth without such aid; but the in- 
 stances are so rare, and so entirely aside from the ordi- 
 nary course of events, as in no degree to justify the 
 expectation that much good will ever be accomplished 
 in this way. Such cases, when they have occurred, 
 have generally attracted great attention; and a single 
 case of this kind has sometimes been thought sufficiently 
 wonderful to be proclaimed throughout the Christian 
 world. But let us not be deceived: whatever opinions 
 may have been broached, or expectations indulged, 
 God has appointed the ministry of the word as the grand 
 
DUTY OF SUSTAINING AN EDUCATED MINISTRY. 355 
 
 instrument of salvation, and He will not dishonour his 
 own institutions by working without them. He has 
 committed the treasure of the gospel to earthen vessels, 
 that the excellency of the power may be of Him; still 
 these vessels, by the laws of his house and the order of 
 his providence, are made necessary. And they are 
 necessary not only for the instruction of the ignorant 
 and the conversion of the wicked, but for the establish- 
 ment, the sanctification, and comfort of believers. This 
 is strongly and distinctly asserted in a passage already 
 quoted, where Christ, upon his ascension, is said to 
 have given apostles and prophets, evangelists, pastors 
 and teachers, " For the perfecting of the saints, for the 
 ■work of the ministry, for the edifying of the body of 
 Christ; till we all come in the unity of the faith, and 
 of the knowledge of the Son of God, unto a perfect 
 man unto the measure of the stature of the fullness of 
 Christ." 
 
 We cannot dwell upon this article, or it might be 
 shown from the deplorable effects which usually follow 
 a mere suspension of the gospel ministry in places where 
 it was once established, that little can be expected in 
 the cause of truth and virtue without it. Where there 
 is no living teacher to lift up his voice, how soon do 
 men lose their reverence for the sabbath and for every 
 institution of revealed religion, while they sink into 
 habits of profligacy and vice which require the labour 
 of years to remove. Many such examples could easily 
 be pointed out in our own country. But I hasten, 
 
 11. To call your attention to the alarming deficiency 
 of men duly qualified to preach the gospel. 
 
356 DUTY OF SUSTAINING AN EDUCATED MINISTRY. 
 
 God has never left his church without a valid minis- 
 try, nor is there any reason to fear that He will. But 
 seasons have occurred, when men employed in this 
 sacred office, have either been so few in number, or so 
 corrupt in point of doctrine, or so manifestly incom- 
 petent to the duties of their vocation, as to make a 
 famine of the word of life the inevitable consequence. 
 Such was the fact in many periods of the Jewish his- 
 tory, as the prophets themselves have borne w^itness. 
 Such to an extensive degree was the case during our 
 Lord's abode in the flesh; and hence his compassion 
 towards the multitudes, who at great expense and 
 fatigue, flocked from distant parts of the country to 
 hear him. He regarded them as sheep without a 
 shepherd, because the shepherds which they had, though 
 sufficiently numerous, did little else but scatter and 
 devour the flock. This was a state of things which 
 powerfully touched the heart of the Lord Jesus, and 
 led him to say to his disciples, " The harvest truly is 
 plenteous, but the labourers are few; pray ye therefore 
 the Lord of the harvest, that he would thrust forth 
 labourers into his harvest." 
 
 From that period to the present the same affecting 
 truth has been exhibited to the eye of the church; but 
 alas I too often without exciting those emotions which 
 so solemn and portentous a fact ought to create. And 
 what can we hope even now, by making a statement, 
 which perhaps is familiar to you all? But in the name 
 of the Lord I desire you to lift up your eyes to the 
 heathen world, and behold the innumerable multitudes 
 who are sitting in the region of darkness and shadow 
 
DUTY OF SUSTAINING AN EDUCATED MINISTRY. 357 
 
 of death— hastening with the certainty and rapidity of 
 time down to the abodes of everlasting sorrow. On 
 them no light of salvation shines. There Satan, the 
 god of this world, holds his cruel reign, receiving with 
 the light of every returning day his thousands of vic- 
 tims offered upon the altar of pollution and blood. 
 
 According to calculations recently made, Asia and 
 Africa alone contain six hundred millions, five millions 
 only of whom have embraced Christianity under any 
 form. All the rest, comprehending six parts out of 
 eight of the whole human family, are still under the 
 dominion of the most fatal delusions. But have they 
 no missionaries'? Are none gone to them to point out 
 the way of life? Not one, my dear brethren, to a 
 million I The benevolence of the whole Christian 
 world has not yet furnished them with four hundred 
 preachers. What a spectacle is this for those that love 
 our Lord Jesus Christ, and believe that one human soul 
 is of more value than the temporal interests of a world! 
 How forcibly does it bring home the truth, that the 
 harvest is plenteous and the labourers few. 
 
 But if we turn our attention to that portion of the 
 world denominated Christian, what a deficiency shall 
 we find of qualified teachers? What multitudes, wrapt 
 in the night of ignorance, almost as far from the way 
 of salvation as the very heathen? Look at the present 
 state of the Greek and Roman churches. How few 
 comparatively among them, who preach that gospel 
 which God has ordained as the means of eternal life! 
 Without going into a history of their peculiar doctrines, 
 it will not be denied that they have fallen into the 
 31* 
 
358 DUTY OF SUSTAINING AN EDUCATED MINISTRY. 
 
 grossest errors, so that while they retain the name they 
 have little left of the purity and excellence of Christ- 
 ianity. The same remark might be extended to not a 
 few of the Protestant churches Avho have strangely de- 
 parted from the principles of the reformation, and im- 
 bibed the most destructive heresies. Wherever this is 
 the case, the people are as sheep without a shepherd, 
 whatever may be the number of their religious teachers, 
 and however such teachers may claim to be the lights 
 of science and religion. If they do not preach Christ 
 in the glory of his divine nature, and in the offices he 
 sustains in the work of our redemption, they are not 
 his ministers — they bring not his doctrine, that which 
 distinguishes his religion from every other system. 
 
 My design, however, is to fix your attention chiefly 
 on the deplorable deficiency of religious teachers in our 
 own country. Those who have investigated this sub- 
 ject, pionounce with confidence, that with a population 
 exceeding nine millions w^e have not more than three 
 thousand educated ministers of all denominations.* 
 Allowing then one minister to two hundred families or 
 one thousand souls, and we have a supply only for three 
 millions, leaving six millions or tw^o thirds of our popu- 
 lation unprovided for. 
 
 This fact, alarming in the gross, is still more so in 
 detail. For while some parts of the country have a 
 supply nearly equal to their demand, large districts are 
 to be found of fifty and of a hundred thousand souls, 
 where the sound of the pastor's voice is never heard, 
 
 * See Appendix A . 
 
DUTY OF SUSTAINING AN EDUCATED MINISTRY. 359 
 
 and where the inhabitants daily sinking into deeper 
 shades of moral darkness, are fast verging to a state of 
 the most pernicious and degrading heathenism.* 
 
 I can not descend to the particulars on which this 
 remark is founded, nor stay to fill up the gloomy pic- 
 ture which will suggest itself to every reflecting mind 
 in this assembly; yet, I must be permitted to add, what 
 is known to many of you, that this melancholy state 
 of things, is so far from assuming a more encouraging 
 appearance as time advances, that it is every day in- 
 creasing with the rapid progress of our population; 
 and to the eye that looks forward only to few genera- 
 tions, presents a scene truly appalling to the pious 
 heart. In less than half a century, if our numbers con- 
 tinue to advance in the ratio of former years, we shall 
 have forty millions of people, while the ministers of 
 the gospel increasing only as they have done for fifty 
 years past, will not reach twice their present number. 
 What a painful anticipation of the future! More than 
 thirty millions of our countrymen abandoned, " not to 
 a famine of bread, nor a thirst for water; but of hear- 
 ing the words of the Lord."f 
 
 Be assured my brethren, this statement is not over- 
 drawn. It rests upon facts of unquestionable authority, 
 and is but the recognition of causes long since at work, 
 and whose results, without the special interposition ^f 
 Providence, will be in time to come, as they have been 
 in times past. But leaving futurity in the hands of 
 Him who sees the end from the beginning, and who in 
 
 * See Appendix B. f Amoa tiii., 11, 
 
360 DUTY OF SUSTAINING AN EDUCATED MINISTRY. 
 
 his government of the world often disappoints the hopes 
 and fears of mortals, the present aspect of our own 
 country, is that of a field already white to the harvest, 
 while the labourers that go forth into it are few com- 
 pared with the mighty work to be performed. Yes, 
 there are- hundreds and thousands anxious to hear the 
 gospel, and continually lifting up their cry for teachers, 
 who after all their solicitations, cannot be supplied. 
 This is a fact which ought in a peculiar manner to in- 
 terest us. I do not say that we are to be indifferent to 
 the wants of the human family generally; I admit that 
 our benevolence should be large enough to embrace 
 every darkened corner of the earth, and that our zeal 
 to spread the gospel ought to be of such strength as to 
 send the heralds of salvation to the utmost bounds of 
 either continent, and to the islands of the sea. But 
 surely it is a paramount duty to feel for the destitute at 
 home; to look with an eye of peculiar tenderness on 
 those who are bone of our bone and flesh of our flesh; 
 and whom the providence of God has placed within 
 the sphere of our action. To drive these children of 
 want from our door, or with an heart of indifference to 
 allow them to famish in our sight, would mark a species 
 of insensibility, in a peculiar manner offensive to the 
 Father of mercies, and reproachful to the Christian 
 name. 
 
 But what can be done? Wherewith shall we find 
 bread to feed so great a multitude? If the Lord would 
 open the windows of Heaven there might indeed be 
 hope! But, Christians, is not this the whispering of 
 unbelief? Contemplate the subject in the light of your 
 
DUTY OF SUSTAINING AN EDUCATED MINISTRY. 361 
 
 responsibility; dwell upon it with hearts of tender and 
 growing compassion; let the cry of perishing millions 
 vibrate in your ears, till the hum of business and the 
 song of pleasure are lost in the sound, — and then say 
 if something cannot be done. The truth is, the path 
 of duty lies plain before us; nor are there any difficul- 
 ties which the patient energy of enlightened zeal will not 
 overcome. Be it so, that we want some thousands of 
 ministers, to supply the dificiency in our own country, 
 and even a larger number to send abroad among the 
 heathen; let us not be dismayed at the prospect, but 
 commence the work of preparing them in the name of 
 the Lord, leaving it to those who come after us to 
 complete what we have begun. 
 
 III. This is the duty which I proposed in the third 
 and last place to set before you. 
 
 But here a question of deep importance arises. 
 What sort of men do we want? Some in their zeal to 
 supply the necessities of the church, appear to have 
 lost sight of this enquiry, and have literally thrust men 
 into the ministry who were wholly incompetent to its 
 duties; men who besides being led away by error, have 
 lowered the standard of the sacred office and brought it 
 into contempt. Such labourers do but impede the 
 operations of others, and render the harvest even more 
 difficult to collect than if they had never entered into 
 it. 
 
 Two things are requisite in those who preach the 
 gospel; they must have piety, and they must have 
 ability. They must have piety: w^ithout this they 
 would be only like the blind leading the blind, \vhile 
 
362 DUTY OF SUSTAINING AN EDUCATED MINISTRY. 
 
 they would lack that pure and ardent zeal for the glory 
 of God and the salvation of men, which is so needful 
 to their fidelity and success. I do not say that a man 
 may not preach to the salvation of others while he him- 
 self is a stranger to vital piety. Doubtless there are 
 multitudes, who have preached an unknown Saviour, 
 and yet have been instrumental in the conversion of 
 others. The efficacy of the word depends not on the 
 holiness or will of him who ministers it, but on the 
 energy of the divine Spirit. Still however, God will 
 honour those that honour Him, and other things being 
 equal. He is more likely to crown with success the la- 
 bours of ministers who seek to do good and to promote 
 his glory, than of those who merely sacrifice to their 
 own net and burn incense to their own drag. With- 
 out a renovated heart indeed, no man can have a call 
 to preach the gospel, whatever his other qualifications; 
 and woe be to him if he enter upon this holy service 
 without this deep and essential requisite. 
 
 But piety alone, however sincere or even ardent, is 
 far from being sufficient. He must be able to teach, 
 as well as willing. Ignorance in any profession is a 
 calamity; but here it is truly deplorable. Here men 
 deal with subjects of the greatest possible moment, — 
 with interests vast and immeasurable as eternity. Men 
 will not trust an advocate with the defence of their 
 rights if they know him to be ignorant of the law, or 
 the facts involved in their case. They will not employ 
 a physician who is confessedly unacquainted with the 
 healing art; and shall the soul, the never dying soul, 
 be entrusted to hands where there is no wisdom to 
 
DUTY OF SUSTAINING AN EDUCATED MINISTRY. 363 
 
 counsel, no capacity to instruct, and where mere igno- 
 rance as well as mistake may prove fatal to all that is 
 dear in its future existence? Reason dictates a dif- 
 ferent course, and the great Head of the church has 
 solemnly prescribed it. 
 
 He has ordained that men who preach the gospel, 
 should be deeply acquainted with the truths of the gos- 
 pel. " The same commit thou to faithful men, who 
 shall be able to teach others also." And again, " Not 
 a novice, lest he be lifted up with pride and fall into 
 the snare of the devil." 
 
 They who are admitted to the work of the ministry, 
 should possess a sound understanding well cultivated 
 by study; they should have an acquaintance with the 
 general subjects of literature, and particularly with 
 such us stand more immediately connected with their 
 sacred employment. This, at all times necessary, is 
 perhaps peculiarly important at the present day, when 
 not a few who profess to be lovers of the sciences, de- 
 spise the humbling doctrines of the cross. But above 
 all should they be thoroughly versed in the word of 
 life, that they may be able by sound doctrine both to 
 exhort and to convince the gainsay ers; to put to silence 
 the ignorance of foolish men; and as wise scribes well 
 instructed in the kingdom, to bring out of their treasure 
 things new and old. No attainments in mere human 
 science, will make up for this. Be men ever so learned 
 or eloquent, if the gospel be not understood, its glori- 
 ous truths cannot be clearly exhibited and made to bear 
 upon the conscience; and where this is not done, the 
 chief object for which the gospel ministry was insti- 
 
364 DUTY OF SUSTAINING AN EDUCATED MINISTRY. 
 
 tuted is lost. Give us ministers then who both under- 
 stand and love the truth, and who are willing to 
 make any sacrifice in its cause. There are the teachers 
 whom God's word approves, — men who are capable of 
 serving the church, and whose labours she now calls 
 for, to build up her wastes and to extend her promised 
 empire over the earth. Shall we hear her call, and set 
 about the good work of increasing the number of such 
 teachers? 
 
 That this is our duty is just as certain as that our 
 agency is at all demanded to promote the great work 
 of salvation and the glory of God's name. But what 
 does this duty imply? Most certainly, that we offer 
 up daily and ardent prayer for the spirit to be poured 
 out upon our schools and colleges, and upon our young 
 men generally, that those who have the requisite natu- 
 ral gifts, may be furnished with spiritual qualifications 
 for the gospel ministry; that we carefully seek out the 
 youth thus designated, and encourage them to look 
 forward to this sacred oflfice; and where it is necessary, 
 (and that it will be necessary to a great extent, there 
 can be no question,) that we afford them pecuniary aid. 
 This is what the great Head of the church demands of 
 us, and what by his word and providence He has long 
 pressed upon our attention. Shall we now hear his 
 voice, and engage in this charity with a zeal which is 
 steady and enlightened, and which knows no relaxation 
 or intermission till the object be accomplished? 
 
 It is an undertaking which is peculiarly expressive 
 of our love to Him who shed his blood in our behalf, 
 and but a just acknowledgment of the high born privi- 
 
DUTY OF SUSTAINING AN EDUCATED MINISTRY. 365 
 
 leges we possess. Nay it associates us with him who 
 is the great lord of the harvest, the first born from the 
 dead, and the prince of the kings of the earth. It w^as 
 a part of his work while he tabernacled in the flesh to 
 provide pastors and teachers for the destitute — and 
 though now exalted to his throne in the Heavens, he 
 still makes this an object of his care. Will it be no 
 honour to be found active in the same cause? I know 
 of no charity more elevated in its design, or more 
 important in its result. It is vital to all the best inte- 
 rests of man. Do you love your country? Can you 
 promote her prosperity more effectually than by increas- 
 ing the number of those, w^ho shall essentially contri- 
 bute to diffuse the lights of science and religion — men 
 who shall foster your schools, and take an active part 
 in the instruction of the rising generation? Without 
 a measure of this kind, what security can you have for. 
 your civil institutions? Can these be supported with- 
 out the aid of moral virtue? Can you hope for the 
 existence of this w^ithout the preaching of the gospel 
 and the regular administration of its ordinances? Poli- 
 ticians may contrive, legislators make laws, and phi- 
 losophers dream, but w^here Jesus Christ is not preached, 
 the great principles of morality will neither be under- 
 stood nor regarded. 
 
 If the history of the world can throw any light upon 
 the character of man, it teaches this truth if no more, 
 that without revelation, and this faithfully expounded, 
 he will not attain to the knowledge of God, and that 
 without this knowledge, he can not be restrained from 
 the most odious vices. We hold it a position clearly 
 32 
 
366 DUTY OF SUSTAINING AN EDUCATED MINISTRY. 
 
 demonstrable, that without religion there can be no 
 morality, — and without morality, no well ordered and 
 peaceful society. The alternative then lies before us, 
 either to maintain and promote religion, by providing 
 a competent and faithful ministry, or tosink into moral 
 degradation and ruin. 
 
 Nor is the time distant, unless we can be roused to a 
 sense of our danger, when the consequences of our 
 supineness will be deeply felt. The facts have been 
 stated, which tell you how far already population has 
 gained upon the means of moral culture; what wide 
 spread regions have become wastes, and what the inevi- 
 table result in a few years will be, if the Christian and 
 philanthropist do not awake, and put forth all their 
 energy to check the mighty evil. 
 
 But why do I speak of the temporal interests of men? 
 What will become of their souls? We have been told 
 of the vast multitudes who are as sheep without a shep- 
 herd, having none to heal them when diseased, to bind 
 them up when broken, and to bring them back w^lien 
 driven away. We are assured that the shades of moral 
 darkness are thickening upon them, and that the hour 
 hastens when if no relief be afforded, the last beam of 
 light will be extinguished. Were we ignorant of their 
 state, we might slumber over their destiny with com- 
 parative innocence, and they might find their way to 
 the pit, without drawing down the guilt of their blood 
 upon our heads. But we know their condition; we 
 know that they have none to break to them the bread 
 of life; and that if eternal mercy does not step aside 
 from its ordinary course to save men without the min- 
 
DUTY OF SUSTAINING AN EDUCATED MINISTRY. 367 
 
 istry of the word, they must go down to the chambers 
 of death. Why, let me ask, has the providence of God 
 disclosed this fact, but to touch our hearts and stimu- 
 late our exertions? To us they look with an imploring 
 eye; and God will make us answerable if through our 
 want of effort they shall implore in vain. But think, 
 my dear brethren, of the vast amount of good which 
 this scheme of benevolence proposes. 
 
 When you have fed the hungry and clothed the 
 naked, you have performed an act of charity which is 
 grateful to your feelings, and which if done out of love 
 to your Saviour will not be forgotten by Him when the 
 universe shall be assembled at his bar. When you 
 have instructed the ignorant or reclaimed the vicious 
 you have done an important service to individuals, and 
 are entitled to the thanks of society; and if you have 
 ever converted a soul to the living God, you have been 
 instrumental of a good which far outweighs the mere 
 deliverance of a nation from the greatest earthly cala- 
 mities. But what is this compared with having given 
 to the church one able and faithful minister of the New 
 Testament, who, in the ordinary course of providence, 
 may be instrumental of saving hundreds from the gates 
 of perdition and making them heirs of immortal life. 
 Who knows in this case if you do not begin a work of 
 mercy which shall go on w^ith progressive energy till 
 the last day? Such a minister may be the means not 
 only of saving many by his personal labours, but of 
 raising up others in this blessed work — and these, 
 others who shall convey their spirit to a new genera- 
 
368 DUTY OF SUSTAINING AN EDUCATED MINISTRY. 
 
 tion, till all the earth shall hear and all the ends of the 
 world be turned unto the Lord. 
 
 I press this subject with the greater confidence, from 
 the interest it has awakened in other parts of the church, 
 and from the fact that there are many young men of 
 hopeful piety and promising talent, now waiting to be 
 drawn from their less important spheres into the minis- 
 try of the gospel. 
 
 In the eastern section of our country, a single society 
 organized two years since, have already two hundred 
 youth in different stages of their education destined to 
 the gospel ministry. Our brethren to the west, have 
 also gone before us in this work and labour of love; 
 and besides collecting considerable funds for the object, 
 have taken up about thirty young men, who are fitting 
 to enter the Lord's vineyard. They tell us that two 
 hundred more from their own district could be added 
 to their present list, had they the means of support. 
 Shall we not rise up to the same work, under the in- 
 fluence of such noble examples? There is no want of 
 men for this operation. God has prepared them by the 
 requisite natural gifts, and by the sanctifying power of 
 his grace. It is ours to search them out, and furnish 
 them with the means of education. If we will not 
 embark in this enterprise, where is our love to the 
 Saviour, — where our love to the souls of men? Can 
 we be Christ's friends, if we do not possess his spirit? 
 Can his spirit dwell in us, if we feel not for the unin- 
 structed multitudes as he did? Or can we with sincerity 
 pray to him as the great Lord of the harvest to send 
 
DUTY OF SUSTAINING AN EDUCATED MINISTRY. 369 
 
 forth labourers into his harvest, while we do not cheer- 
 fully put our own hands to the work, and endeavour to 
 increase their number? 
 
 The society, in whose name I address you, is organ- 
 ized for the express purpose of raising up ministers for 
 the Presbyterian church. They will select none for this 
 object but those who in the judgment of charity are the 
 real friends of Christ, and who in the spirit of self- 
 denial are willing to devote their lives to the promotion 
 of his cause; men whose talents are such as to give a 
 reasonable pledge of their usefulness. And they intend 
 not to send them forth, till they have made those at- 
 tainments in human and divine knowledge which the 
 rules of our church have wisely prescribed. 
 
 We know indeed that this is an undertaking of great 
 responsibility, — that in the selection of the youth and 
 the application of the funds the soundest discretion will 
 be called for, and that no human wisdom will be suffi- 
 cient always to prevent mistake. But the object is one 
 of the highest moment, involving in it the dearest hopes 
 of man; nor can we think of relinquishing it on account 
 of the difficulties which it presents. The work is of 
 the Lord, and He will make it prosper, if we take 
 counsel of Him. We come to you, brethren, to ask 
 your aid in this important design — to give, as God has 
 prospered you, and to send up your prayers to Heaven 
 for a blessing to rest upon your bounty. Who knows 
 but the salvation of hundreds is suspended on the chari- 
 ties of this evening ? 
 
 Twenty young men of promising talents have already 
 been selected anil placed upon the funds of our infant 
 32* 
 
370 DUTY OF SUSTAINING AN EDUCATED MINISTRY. 
 
 institution. With hearts burning with love to the 
 Saviour, they long to be prepared to preach to the des- 
 titute the everlasting gospel in his name. Shall they 
 be encouraged in this desire? Or must we say to them, 
 there is no hope — the bosom of piety does not feel — 
 the hands of beneficence are not open — return to your 
 former occupations, and sigh in secret over the woes 
 which you cannot relieve? 
 
 I will not anticipate such a result. I trust that a 
 institution, founded in benevolence, and aiming at a 
 good so immense, will find a patronage in every heart 
 that loves our Lord Jesus, — in every friend of man. 
 The cry of perishing millions in heathen lands, unites 
 with the voice of thousands in our own country, to in- 
 crease the number of those who publish the gospel of 
 peace, who bring glad tidings of good things. Let us 
 with cheerful hearts cast our offering into the treasury 
 of the Lord, — and seek to become partakers with them 
 who are instrumental in turning many to righteousness, 
 and who shall shine as the brightness of the firmament, 
 and as the stars for ever and ever. 
 
DUTY OF SUSTAINING AN EDUCATED MINISTRY. 37 1 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 A. 
 
 Table, showing the number of Alumni, and the ivhole number of 
 Ministers educated at the principal Colleges in the United 
 States, and the number of Alumni living, and the number of 
 Ministers living according to the latest information. 
 
 Harvard, 
 
 Yale, 
 
 Princeton, 
 
 Columbia, 
 
 Brown, 
 
 Dartmouth, 
 
 Carlisle, 
 
 Williams, 
 
 Union, 
 
 Bowdoin, 
 
 Middlebur}^, 
 
 South Carolina,.. 
 
 Total, 
 
 Dateoftlie 
 Catalogue 
 examined. 
 
 1818 
 1817 
 1815 
 1814 
 1817 
 1816 
 1813 
 1817 
 1813 
 1816 
 1817 
 1816 
 
 Number of Number of 
 
 Alumni. 
 
 4442 
 
 a300 
 
 1425 
 
 608 
 
 829 
 
 1190 
 
 272 
 
 473 
 
 291 
 
 85 
 
 260 
 
 275 
 
 Ministers. 
 
 1198 
 
 847 
 
 297 
 
 67 
 
 149 
 
 263 
 
 62 
 
 112 
 
 33 
 
 2 
 
 55 
 
 5 
 
 Alumni 
 living 
 
 1708 
 1658 
 1028 
 
 715 
 
 992 
 243 
 434 
 280 
 80 
 250 
 260 
 
 7,643 
 
 Ministers 
 living. 
 
 205 
 357 
 147 
 
 130 
 
 228 
 
 58 
 
 107 
 
 32 
 
 2 
 
 55 
 
 5 
 
 1,406 
 
 The above is an extract fi-om the Appendix to the third 
 annual report of the American Society for the education of 
 pious youth for the gospel ministry. That it is entu'ely ac- 
 curate we need not suppose ; and from the nature of the case, 
 the calculation could not be brought up to the present time. 
 Still it is an important document, to show the present want 
 of a competently educated ministry. For want of sufficient 
 data, the Universities of North Carolina, Georgia, and Ken- 
 
372 DUTY OF SUSTAINING AN EDUCATED MINISTRY. 
 
 tucky, the several Colleges of Virginia and Pennsylvania, and 
 the College of New Brunswick, N. J., with some other in- 
 stitutions of recent establishment,, are not brought into the 
 account. It is known that most of these seminaries have 
 furnished the church with a number of respectable ministers ; 
 though with regard to several, the number has been vei*y 
 small. If we should suppose the whole number from these 
 various institutions to be now two hundred, it would probably 
 be thought a large estimate. And if to these should be added 
 one hundred and fifty for such as have been educated in 
 foreign countries, and now resident among us, it would swell 
 the sum total to seventeen hundred and fifty-six. How many 
 there are who have not received the advantages of a public 
 education, but who, nevertheless, have been well instructed, 
 it is not easy to say. But all would probably agree that they 
 can not be more than half as numerous as those who have 
 been educated in our Colleges. Put them, however, at a 
 thousand, or even twelve hundred, and the whole number 
 falls short of three thousand ; a moderate supply for three 
 millions, or one third of our population. 
 
 B. 
 
 Many deceive themselves as to the deplorable state of our 
 countiy, by fixing their eyes solely on their own immediate 
 vicinity. But it becomes Christian benevolence and philan- 
 throphy to look abroad. The directors of the American 
 Education Society make the following statement. 
 
 " In North Carolina, South Carolina and Georgia, contain- 
 ing according to the last census, a population of 1,223,048, 
 there are about 110 competent ministers, — leaving 1,113,048 
 destitute of proper religious instruction. A respectable gen- 
 tleman, who is a native citizen of South Carolina, informs us 
 that in an ancient district of the state, embracing an extent 
 of 9,000 square miles contiguous to the sea coast, there is but 
 
APPENDIX. 373 
 
 one place of worship, and that not used; and not one Christ- 
 ian church or minister of any denomination." 
 
 The states of Indiana, Mississippi, and Louisiana, with the 
 territories of Alabama, Illinois, Micliigan and Missouri, con- 
 tain a population of about 350,000, and nearly the same num- 
 ber of square miles as the whole of Europe, with the ex- 
 ception of the Russian Empire. Yet in this vast region, 
 which is becoming populous and wealthy with unexampled 
 rapidit}, we cannot ascertain after much enquiry, that there 
 are more than seventeen competent and stated preachers of 
 the gospel ; that is, less than one to 20,000 souls." 
 
 Li East Tennessee, which contained in 1810, 17 counties, 
 and 901,367 inhabitants, an intelligent gentleman on the spot 
 says, "There are 14 counties, in which there is not a single 
 regular or educated minister of the gospel." 
 
 From the same document it appears, by a letter fi-om a re- 
 spectable gentleman in Virginia, that in eight counties of 
 that state, west of the Great Ridge, containing 48,587 inhabi- 
 tants, only about one thousand are connected with the Pres- 
 byterians, Baptists and Methodists, leaving more than 47,000 
 not connected with any religious institutions whatever; that 
 in another district 53,000 people are in the same dreadful 
 state; in another 20,000, except a very few Baptists and 
 Methodists; and in another 60,000, who are connected with 
 no religious denomination of any kind. 
 
 It would be easy to swell this note with particular state- 
 ments of the destitute condition of many other large districts 
 of our countiy. Suffice it to say, that there are more than 
 four hundred congregations connected with the Presbyterian 
 Church destitute of the stated ministration of the word and 
 ordinances, many of whom are able to support pastors. 
 Christians of this communion! can you contemplate this 
 fact, and still hesitate whether you shall contribute a portion 
 of your worldly substance to raise up teachers for the des- 
 titute ? 
 
ADDRESS, 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF MRS. CUMMDfG.* 
 
 Mournful day! The sympathies, and anguish of a 
 thousand hearts proclaim it to be a mournful day. 
 When have we seen such an assembly as this? Every 
 bosom swells with a sigh, every eye runs down with 
 
 * This address was occasioned by the melancholy death of Mrs. 
 Sarah Camming, consort of the Reverend Hooper Gumming, 
 Pastor of the second Presbyterian church in Newark. She died 
 by a fall from the rocks at Patterson, on the morning of the 22d of 
 June, 1812, in the 23d year ol her age. 
 
 She had gone with Mr. Gumming to spend the sabbath at Pat- 
 terson, where he was appointed to preach, by the Presbytery. On 
 Monday morning, they took a walk to the falls of the Passaic, 
 which lie in the neighbourhood. When they had finished their view 
 of the wonderful scenery, which this place affords, Mrs. Gumming 
 fell from a high part of the western rock, an elevation of about 
 seventy feet, into the basin below. 
 
 She had just before complained of dizziness, and sat down with 
 Mr. Gumming at a little distance from the edge of the precipice, 
 until she was composed Wishing to take another view of a scene 
 so sublime, and to her so novel and interesting, she ventured again, 
 with her husband, to the margin of the rock. When they had stood 
 a tew minutes, he said, " It is time to return," and requested her to 
 accompany him. The path being narrow, he stepped back a pace 
 or two, supposing she would follow. Alas! only a cry is heard. 
 
ADDRESS ON THE DEATH OF MRS. GUMMING. 375 
 
 tears. Who could have expected the awful event we 
 now deplore? We know that we are mortal. We 
 know that death may assail us, at any moment, and in 
 numberless forms; but how unlooked for, and in what 
 distressing circumstances, has this dread messenger ap- 
 proached in the case before us! 
 
 Did our young friend languish on her bed, and after 
 leaving her dying counsels to those around her, pass 
 away into eternity? Did she apprehend the stroke, 
 which severed her from earth and all that earth holds 
 dear? Did she give the parting look, or parting hand? 
 Did she say but once, I die— I go to Jesus— I bid fare- 
 well? Alas I none of all these circumstances were 
 
 He turns-but she is gone from his sight for ever! In the dreadful 
 agitation of his mind, he runs backward and forward along the 
 awful brink, crying, " she is fallen! she is fallen! " 
 
 At this perilous moment, a lad of about sixteen years of age, 
 who was providentially but a few rods distant, flew to his assist- 
 ance and once actually held him by the skirt, when he seemed in 
 the act of throwing himself down the precipice. They both descend- 
 ed by the usual passage to the foot of the rock ; and again the agom- 
 zina husband would have plunged into the abyss, but for the firm 
 resfstance of the youth, destined in providence to preserve hmi,durmg 
 this paroxysm of unutterable grief. In a few minutes Mr. Cummmg 
 became composed, and manifested a spirit of devout resignation. 
 
 Hundreds crowded to the mournful place, and the deepest sym- 
 pathy was seen working in every bosom. Great apprehensions 
 were entertained for a time that the body could not be found. The 
 water deep, the current rapid, and a huge bed of rocks lymg at 
 different depths, it was believed that the chance was very small. 
 A search was immediately commenced, and continued till late at 
 nicrht, but in vain. At seven o'clock the next morning, when only 
 a few persons were present, and these chiefly of Mr. Cumming's 
 eongrecration, the body was taken up by one of the elders of his 
 
376 ADDRESS ON THE DEATH OF MRS. GUMMING. 
 
 permitted. In the walk of pleasure she meets with 
 death. While admiring the works of her Creator; 
 while her heart was beating with innocent and new 
 delight; she slides, in an instant, from the awful pre- 
 cipice into the troubled wave beneath. Who can de- 
 scribe the anguish of her surviving husband? W^ho 
 shall prevent him from rushing down the dreadful steep, 
 in this moment of unutterable distress? That merciful 
 Providence, only, which planned the whole from eter- 
 nity, and which ordered every circumstance of this 
 painful event, by counsels as efficient as they were 
 wise. 
 
 God saves the distracted sufferer, when he had no 
 
 church. It was conveyed to Newark; and at ten o'clock the next 
 day the funeral was attended in the Second Presbyterian Church, 
 by a great concourse of people from Newark and the neighbouring 
 towns. Tears flowed from a thousand eyes. Never was greater 
 sympathy excited on any occasion . The profoundest silence reigned 
 through the assembly ; and the procession, formed in conveying 
 this lamented female to the tomb, amounted to more than sixteen 
 hundred persons of both sexes. 
 
 Mrs. Gumming was born of reputable parents in Portland, Maine, 
 and received her education, in that town*. She was married and 
 removed to Newark a few weeks only before her death. Her 
 person was agreeable, her manners simple, and her mind strong 
 and ingenuous. Torn from her husband in all the loveliness of 
 youth, she has left him, with her widowed mother, and only sister, 
 to mourn her loss. 
 
 The author of the Address has given this detail, not only to sat- 
 isfy the curiosity of the public, but to mark more distinctly the 
 footsteps of Providence in an occurrence so wonderful and painful 
 in all its circumstances. 
 
 Newark, July lUh, 1812. 
 
 * Her family name was Emmons 
 
ADDRESS ON THE DEATH OF MRS. GUMMING. 377 
 
 power to save himself. A fellow youth, as an angel 
 from Heaven, is sent to pluck him from the brink, and to 
 restrain him for a moment, till reason resume her throne. 
 But why do I attempt a picture which no mortal can 
 ever draw? Why do I recall a scene which plants a 
 dagger in the soul? . ^ 
 
 Let me rather present the consolations which are 
 afforded on this occasion, and point you to the lesson of 
 divine instruction, which the occasion was designed to 
 give. 
 
 We mourn the loss of an amiable woman, torn from 
 her husband in the bloom of youth, and torn from him 
 under circumstances which excite the liveliest sympa- 
 thy in every heart. But we have, for our comfort, the 
 blessed assurance, that this dark and trying event has 
 taken place by the appointmeftt of an infinitely wise 
 and righteous God. 
 
 His providence extends to the falling of a sparrow; 
 and his providence is always just, always wise. He 
 does nothing, and suffers nothing to be done, which He 
 will not overrule for his own glory and the highest good 
 of his great kingdom. His immediate designs are often 
 out of sight We cannot tell wherefore it is, that He 
 deals thus with us. The wheels of his government 
 move high and dreadful. His path is in the great 
 waters, and his footsteps are not known. Of this, how- 
 ever, we may be certain, that He has some great and 
 glorious purpose to answer by every event which be- 
 falls. 
 
 This is unquestionably the case in the distressing 
 providence before us. To feeble and short-sighted 
 3 5 
 
378 ADDRESS ON THE DEATH OF MRS. GUMMING. 
 
 man it presents a cloud of impenetrable darkness. But, 
 as sure as God is upon the throne, and controls the 
 events of the universe, this cloud has a bright side, and 
 one day its brightness will appear. 
 
 Yes, ye mourning friends, this thick cloud, this cloud 
 of astonishment and terrour, shall be turned into the light 
 of the morning. Into the light of the morning? Nay, 
 into the blaze of yonder sun. Your weeping eyes shall 
 see that Infinite Wisdom and Goodness planned this dis- 
 pensation, and that not a circumstance could be altered for 
 the better. Is not this a strong ground of consolation? 
 To all the friends of God's government, to all who are 
 "w^illing that God should be on the throne, it cannot be 
 otherwise. 
 
 I have to add, surprising as it may appear, that the 
 present affliction is not only sure to serve the purposes 
 of God's glory and the interests of his great kingdom; 
 it will promote the personal happiness of those whom 
 it immediately affects, provided they love God and sub- 
 mit themselves to his righteous providence. 
 
 It is one of the most comprehensive and consoling 
 promises of the scriptures, that all things " shall w^ork 
 together for good to them that love God, to them w^ho 
 are the called according to his purpose." Nothing can 
 fall out amiss to them. Whether it be trouble or joy, 
 their highest, their eternal welfare goes on. The se- 
 verest afflictions do but humble them and bring them 
 nearer to God. They are a fire to take away their 
 dross: they detach them from the world, and ripen 
 them for the purity and blessedness of Heaven. 
 
 W^hence the Apostle thus addresses the afflicted He- 
 
ADDRESS ON THE DEATH OF MRS. GUMMING. 379 
 
 brews: " We have had fathers of our flesh, who cor- 
 rected us, and we gave them reverence. Shall we not 
 much rather be in subjection to the Father of Spirits, 
 and live? For they verily, for a few days, chastened 
 us after their own pleasure, but He for our profit, that 
 we might be made partakers of his holiness. Where- 
 fore lift up the hands, which hang down, and the feeble 
 knees." 
 
 Blessed be God, important and consoling as this con- 
 sideration is, it is not the last, nor the chief, which w^e 
 have to offer on this occasion. 
 
 Our young friend, whose death we now lament, was 
 a professor of religion, and one of its brightest orna- 
 ments. She was not merely an intelligent and amiable 
 member of society, who easily and strongly attached to 
 herself those who had the pleasure of her acquaintance 
 — she was a Christian. She early imbibed sentiments 
 favourable to religion, through the medium of a pious 
 mother and sister, and about two years since, made an 
 open and explicit avowal of her friendship to the Re- 
 deemer. From that period, she has been considered 
 by those who knew her best, as unusually devoted to 
 the duties and interests of religion. She was constant 
 and fervent in prayer. It is known that, on the last 
 night of her life, she was particularly and solemnly en- 
 gaged in this duty; as if, excited by the omniscient 
 Spirit, to prepare for the great event so near at hand. 
 She loved the distinguishing truths of the gospel, and 
 took a special interest in the advancement of the Re- 
 deemer's kinsjdom. Christ and his cross were to her 
 living and precious themes. The friends of Jesus, 
 
380 ADDRESS ON THE DEATH OF MRS. GUMMING. 
 
 whether rich or poor, were the friends of her heart. 
 Her benevolence was ardent. As an angel of mercy, 
 she was often seen at the beds of the sick and the dying 
 The tears of the aged and helpless widow can bear 
 witness to the tender sympathies of her soul. Such 
 was her humility, such her discreet and amiable deport- 
 ment, that she was affectionately and universally be- 
 loved by the Christian society from which she came, 
 and, as far as time and circumstances permitted, no less 
 beloved by her acquaintance in this place. 
 
 We have reason to believe that she has exchanged a 
 world of sin and sorrow for a world of light and glory. 
 Her departure was sudden and unexpected, but not the 
 less safe. The covenant mercy of God never forsakes 
 those whom it once embraces. She falls in an instant 
 out of time into eternity, but underneath her are the 
 everlasting arms. Quick as a beam of light, her soul 
 bursts the darkness which shrouded it, and makes its 
 way to the throne of God; but it does not go unaccom- 
 panied by angels, nor unwashed in the Redeemer's 
 blood. 
 
 Why then should we mourn? Not because she has 
 flown so soon to the bosom of her Saviour. Hear 
 what a voice from Heaven proclaims: " Blessed are 
 the dead, that die in the Lord from henceforth; yea, 
 saith the Spirit, for they rest from their labours, and 
 their works do follow them.'* There they are before 
 the throne of God, day and night. They rejoice with- 
 out intermission, and without end. They have none of 
 the darkness and sorrow which encompass us. They 
 have done with sinning and repenting, with doubting 
 
ADDRESS ON THE DEATH OF MRS. GUMMING. 381 
 
 and fearing. They wrestle no more, they strive no 
 more. Their warfare is accomplished, their dangers 
 are past; God has for ever wiped away their tears. 
 Let us lift up our souls to those shining and tranquil 
 regions, whither they are gone, and, instead of repin- 
 ing at their departure, let us prepare to follow them. 
 
 Turn your thoughts to these things, my dear brother, 
 and let your heart repose itself on the besom of eternal 
 love and mercy. Great as your loss is, God is good, 
 God is wise. His promises are rich, his truth is un- 
 changeable, his power is almighty. He loves those 
 whom He afflicts, and He afflicts them because He loves 
 them. 
 
 Think it not strange, that this trial has overtaken 
 you. God will bring good out of evil, light out of 
 darkness, joy out of sorrow. If you know not what 
 the Lord does now, you shall know hereafter. This is 
 the world of faith; the next, the world of vision. Soon 
 the dark cloud shall be scattered and a light poured 
 upon this path of providence, which shall be full and 
 satisfactory. In the mean time, rejoice that your be- 
 loved friend is not lost; though she is gone from you. 
 A happier world receives her, and she waits to be 
 joined by those that loved her here, in the song of 
 praise which with angels she has begun, but which 
 shall never, never, have an end. 
 
 Bear then with Christian resignation the trial which 
 
 Heaven hath appointed; and while you assure yourself 
 
 of the sympathy of many thousand hearts, let your eye 
 
 be steadily fixed on Jesus, the author and the finisher 
 
 of our faith. Let his example encourage you, and his 
 33* 
 
382 ADDRESS ON THE DEATH OF MRS. GUMMING. 
 
 almighty power and grace be your refuge. May that 
 God, who comforth those that are cast down, comfort 
 you under all your sorrows, and thus teach you to com- 
 fort others with the comfort with which you are com- 
 forted of God. Who can tell but one end of this sore 
 bereavement is to enlarge your sympathies, and deepen 
 your knowledge of divine grace, that you may be bet- 
 ter able to condole with others, and extend the balm of 
 consolation to their wounded spirits! 
 
 Shall we direct our minds, a moment, to some of 
 those lessons of divine instruction, which this affecting 
 providence seems intended to give? 
 
 God speaks loudly and solemnly to us on this occa- 
 sion; and what is the language which he holds? Does 
 he not say, * think not to measure my proceedings by 
 the short line of your understandings. Expect not fully 
 to explore the paths of my providence in this world.' 
 " My ways are not as your ways, nor my thoughts as 
 your thoughts. For as the Heavens are higher than 
 the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and 
 my thoughts than your thoughts." 
 
 Had the destiny of our young friends been lodged in the 
 hands of men, how different would have been the result. 
 Who that thinks of the union recently formed, of the 
 tender friendship which glowed in their faithful 
 bosoms, of the bright prospect which was opening be- 
 fore them, but must stand astonished at what has hap- 
 pened? This astonishment, however, only proves how 
 wide God's counsels are from ours, and how far his 
 wisdom lies above our sight. W'hat could teach us 
 more effectually, that God is great, and we are little? 
 
ADDRESS ON THE DEATH OF MRS. GUMMING. 383 
 
 We are compelled to cry, O the depths of his provi- 
 dence! " How unsearchable are his judgments, and his 
 ways past finding out!" 
 
 Does not God proclaim in our ears also the uncer- 
 tainty of all earthly joys? 
 
 When the heart was full of expectation; when the 
 fond imagination was dreaming of years of increasing 
 felicity, how instantaneous and awful the change! In 
 one sad moment the bright vision vanishes, and all is 
 darkness and anguish. Who can trust to the world 
 after this? 
 
 " Lean not on earlh," — is the voice of this Providence. 
 
 " 'Twill pierce thee to the heart : 
 
 A broken reed at best, but oft a spear, 
 
 On whose sharp point peace bleeds and hope expires." 
 
 Are we not warned here, moreover, of the danger 
 of living a moment unprepared for death? 
 
 By how many avenues may this last enemy approach 
 us! He may overtake us in the midst of business, in the 
 midst of pleasure. He may come without the slight- 
 est notice. We walk over the graves of departed gene- 
 rations. Every step may land us in the tomb. Why 
 then should we procrastinate in the great work of our 
 salvation? Why should we risk our immortal destiny, 
 on the chances of a life so frail? Why should we do 
 this, for a single moment, against the voice of reason, 
 and the most solemn admonitions of God's word and 
 providence? What if our dear young friend had de- 
 layed her preparation for death? Where now had been 
 her departed spirit? Where now the most precious con- 
 solation of her surviving friends? 
 
384 ADDRESS ON THE DEATH OF MRS. GUMMING. 
 
 Presume not, O sinner, upon to-morrow. Trust not 
 to a sick bed. To-morrow may never come. A sick 
 bed may be denied you. From the midst of health, 
 you may be called to the judgment-seat of Christ, and 
 your eternal state unalterably decided. 
 
 Christians, is there not here a peculiar and solemn 
 voice to you? The Lord, you see, comes suddenly to 
 his people, as well as to others. Our young sister had 
 not time to trim her lamp. To her the coming of 
 Christ was as the lightning, which shineth out of the 
 east unto the west. Thus it may be to you. Are 
 "your loins girded about, and your lights burning; '* 
 and ye yourselves like men that wait for the return of 
 their Lord? Is your house in order? Are you doing 
 the very things which Christ commands you and doing 
 them with the zeal and activity of faithful servants? I 
 beseech you, brethren, by the mourning which covers 
 these altars, not to sleep as do others. Time is short, 
 eternity is at hand. Soon its boundless scenes will 
 open upon us, and we shall find ourselves in Heaven 
 or Hell. Let us live for that eternity, which is ap- 
 proaching. Let our eye be single to the glory of our 
 Master. By patient continuance in well-doing, let us 
 commit the keeping of our souls to him, as unto a faith- 
 ful Creator. Death will then neither injure, nor sur- 
 prise us. Come when or how he may, he will only 
 put a period to our service on earth, and introduce us 
 into the joy of our Lord. 
 
 Husbands and wives, can you forbear to reflect upon 
 the special interest which you have in this mournful 
 scene? 
 
ADDRESS ON THE DEATH OF MRS. GUMMING. 
 
 385 
 
 Does life glide smoothly away with you? Are the 
 cares of each day beguiled by your growing attach- 
 ments, and by the cheerful discharge of reciprocal duties? 
 
 God grant that your happiness may be prolonged. 
 But remember the hour approaches, which dissolves 
 the tenderest earthly ties. The time will come, when 
 you must say, " Lover and friend hast thou put far from 
 me, and mine acquaintance into darkness." Look for- 
 ward to that eternity to which you are going, and dwell 
 together, as the heirs of the grace of life. Seek to 
 have your friendship sanctified. Let it be at once the 
 joyful instrument and the undoubted earnest of a more 
 exalted friendship in the kingdom of God. This will 
 soften the pangs of separation. This will dry up the 
 tears of the surviver. Grief will pass away in the 
 hope of meeting those you love, never more to part, re- 
 fined from the imperfections, and delivered from the 
 sorrows of the present life. 
 
 People of this congregation! you are deep mourners 
 on this occasion. God has not bereaved your beloved 
 pastor only; he has bereaved you. He has snatched 
 from you one, to whom you were already strongly 
 united, and whose virtues could not have failed to at- 
 tach you still more, had she been permitted to continue 
 longer with you. Would she not have strengthened 
 the bonds of Christian love? Would she not have 
 softened the anguish of sickness, and plucked the thorn 
 from the dying pillow, by her sympathies and her 
 prayers? Why has this amiable youth been sent 
 among you to die; why, to die in such a manner? 
 Was it merely to fill your minds with grief? Was it 
 
386 ADDRESS ON THE DEATH OF MRS. CUIMMING. 
 
 not to constrain you to look at her example, to carry 
 your minds forward to eternity, to think of that Heaven 
 to which she is gone, and of that Saviour, through 
 whose blood and righteousness she has made her en- 
 trance there? 
 
 Brethren, I do not exhort you to weep with your 
 afflicted pastor. I know your hearts bleed for him. 
 Let your sympathies carry you to the throne of divine 
 mercy. It is not long since, in this sacred place, you 
 publicly promised to pray for him. Now he peculiarly 
 needs your prayers. Bear him affectionately and con- 
 stantly before the throne of grace, and God will sustain 
 him. 
 
 Can I close this address without dropping a word to 
 the youth in this assembly? 
 
 You are full of hope. You leap forward with eager 
 expectation to the enjoyments of the world. But what 
 security can you have against the bold demands of 
 death? Does the pulse of health beat high in your 
 veins? Have you a thousand charms to endear you to 
 others; a thousand ties to bind you to the world? 
 Look at yonder solemn spectacle. Could any of these 
 availed, that sable covering had not been there. The 
 loveliness of youth, the vigour of health, the charms of 
 virtue, are nothing, when the time which God appoints 
 is fully come. 
 
 Are you ready for so solemn a change? Have the 
 first of your days been consecrated to the Author of 
 your beings? Do you know the God of your fathers; 
 and are you treading in the steps of the pious youth, 
 whose remains we are now to commit to the tomb? I 
 
ADDRESS ON THE DEATH OF MRS. GUMMING. 387 
 
 exhort and conjure you not to let this affecting provi- 
 dence address you in vain. 
 
 God in awful majesty is passing by. Will you not 
 bow to him? He is proclaiming in your ears, "All 
 flesh is grass, and the glory thereof as the flower of 
 grass; the grass withereth and the flower thereof falleth 
 away." Will you let this truth sink down into your 
 hearts? Will you henceforth set death and judgment 
 before you? Will you make a business of religion? 
 Now is your time. The tears which you shed on this 
 occasion will be a witness against you, if, from this 
 moment, you make not the concerns of your souls the 
 concerns of eternity, the object of your chief regard. 
 A louder call you can not look for; and if this be re- 
 jected, may not God, in righteous judgment, give you 
 to walk in your own ways, and seal you over to a state 
 of awful retribution? Our prayer is, that this wonder- 
 ful dispensation of providence may issue in the conver- 
 sion of sinners, and in the greater watchfulness and 
 fidelity of the Lord's people. 
 
I 
 
 I 
 
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