.' i from f ^e &t6rarp of (profcBBor ^amuef (gtifPer in (^cmorg of 3ubge ^amuef (ttlifPer (grecfttnrib^e gjreeentcb 6|? ^amuef (Jtliffer (jBrecftinribge feong to f^ feifirarg of (prtnceton S^eofo^tcaf Seminar)? THE WORKS REV. ROBERT HALL, A.M. WITH A BRIEF MEMOIR OF HIS LIFE, BY DR. GREGORY, AND OBSERVATIONS ON HIS CHARACTER AS A PREACHER, BY THE REV. JOHN FOSTER. PUBLISHED. UNDER THE SUPERINTENDENCE OF OLINTHUS GREGORY, LL.D. F.R.A.S. PROFESSOR OF MATHEMATICS IN THE ROYAL MILITARY ACADEMY. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. in. NEW-YORK : PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY J. & J. HARPER, NO. 82 CLIFF-STREET, AND FOR SALE BY THE PRINCIPAL BOOKSELLERS THROUGHOUT THE UNITED STATES. 1833. PREFACE. On the death of an individual so admired and revered as Mr. Hall, nothing was more natural than that a desire to pos- sess a complete collection of his Works should be extensively- felt, and almost as extensively expressed ; the admirable genius and excellent spirit which pervade his compositions, as well as the singularly beautiful language in which his sentiments are generally conveyed, giving to them a very unusual fitness to instruct and impress the minds of men. After a few conversations of a select number of Mr. Hall's inti- mate friends, it was resolved that a complete edition should be prepared as soon as possible ; partly as a proper mark of respect for so distinguished a writer ; partly, as conducive to the comfort of his family ; and, partly, with a view to meet the desire so strongly felt and declared, as well as to give the utmost possible universality and permanency to the benefits which were likely to accrue from a correct and uniform edition. The intimate friendship which had very long subsisted between Mr. Hall and myself, and the unreserved frankness with which it was well known he often spoke to me of some of his productions, and the plans which he had formed as to the orderly republication of the chief of them, led his family and many of his friends to express a most earnest wish that I would undertake the superintendence of the proposed Work. And although an almost entire want of leisure from heavy official and other engagements strongly induced me to decline the undertaking, yet the matter was so urgently pressed upon me, and every argument employed received so powerful an accession from my sincere veneration and affection for Mr. Hall, and my cordial esteem and regard for his excellent widow?-, that I could not withhold my assent. My reluctance was greatly diminished on finding that, in the preparation and arrangement of the volumes, I could, in every case where such aid seemed expedient, avail myself of the valuable judgment of Mr. Foster, and of another friend, the a2 iv PREFACE. Rev. W. Anderson. ' This I have done tliroughout, with only two important exceptions : the one, that of a Letter on the Serampore IMission, in vol. ii. ; the other, that of the very im- perfect biographical memoir which appears in the present vol- ume, and which, from want of time, could not be subjected to their judgment. With regard to such of Mr. Hall's writings as had been pre- viously published, either under his own name or anonymously, it was at once found that no principle of selection could be satis- factorily adopted, and that, indeed, nothing could be omitted without making ourselves -responsible for all that should be retained. Besides, " if the works of departed genius are to be submitted to the censorship of a timid discretion, or the mis- taken delicacy of friendship," and some suppressed, some muti- lated, some softened downj who can say how far their influence may be impaired? If, for example, Mr. Hall's pohtical writ- ings had been suppressed, out of deference to those whose opinions were different from his ; must we not, upon the same principle of omission, have suppressed his line defence of Catholic communion, out of deference to the strict-communion Baptists ; his defence of the Puritans, or of tlie evangelical clergy, out -of deference to those who dislike both those classes of excellent men? And if so, why should we not have also suppressed his admirable arguments in support of orthodox Christianity, out of deference to those who maintain heterodox sentiments ; and all his noble declamation, his bold invective, his spirited irony, his strong reprehension of wickedness and folly, out of deference to those who think '• strong language always unbecoming," and would wish the public instructer to take off the edge of his well-meant reproof by some carefully studied, unmeaning attenuation ? as though the ardent phra- seology of one who thought intensely, and therefore expressed himself strongly, upon every subject which he deemed worthy of occupying his time and attention, would, by cooling it down, to meet the taste of men of lower temperament, make a deeper impression, or be productive of more lasting good. The editors of the works of Mr. Burke, or Bishop Horsley, have not ven- tured to trifle with the reputation of those extraordinary men, by the interspersion of .such lacunai, to meet the variable tastes of their readers ; nor have we : for thus might the works of our inimitable friend have been reduced to a mere pamphlet, and a future age have derived no more benefit from an intellect so richly endowed, so admirably directed as his to the best and highest purposes, than if it had never existed. Finding, therefore, no ground for any reasonable, practicable rule of selection, none has been adopted. The only article PREFACE. V omitted is a letter published by Mr. Hall in a newspaper nearly forty years since ; and that, because, on his- subsequent recon- ciliation to the individual addressed, both parties agreed, in the presence of their mutual friends, that aU should be cast into oblivion that "had been previously said or written by either in reference to the points of controversy. In selecting from Mr. Hall's manuscripts, we have not referred to his morbid sensitiveness with regard to appearing before the world, as .the rule 'of action. But, while we have kept his high reputation in mind, we have also had in view the religious instruction of the general reader. The following is a summary of the contents and distribution of these Works. Vol. I. — Sermons, Charges, and Circular Letters, in- cluding a sermon on Isaiah liii. 8, not before published. Tracts on Terms of Communion, and John's Baptism; Vol. II. — Tracts, Political and Miscellaneous, including an unpublished Fragment of a Defence of Village Preaching, Reviews, and Miscellaneous Pieces, including several not before published. Vol. III. — Notes of Sermons from the Author's own Manu- scripts, with a Selection frOm his Letters, the originals of which have been kindly transmitted by various friends, and Twenty- one Sermons, preached by Mr. Hall, on various occasions,, and communicated by friends; who were in the habit of taking down his discourses. These are preceded by a brief Memoir of Mr. Hall's Life by the Editor ; and Observations on his Character as a Preacher, by Mr. Foster. The Sermons published in this volume, although given in diiferent degrees of fulness, may unquestionably be regarded as presenting a more exact idea of the usual manner and substance of Mr. Hall's preaching, than those which were laid before tlie world by himself In all, tiie design, the argument, and the spirit have been admirably preserved ; while in most the very language is so nearly caught, that it requires not a strong exer- cise of imagination to recall the tones, whether solemn and pathetic, or rapid and impressive, with which it was actually delivered. I know not whether Mrs. Hall or the public will be under the deepest obligation to the gentlemen who have thus richly contributed to the value of the Works. I must now refer to that of which I should most gladly have been spared the necessity of speakino-— the Biographical Memoir of Mr. Hall. Immediately after the publication of the Works was decided upon, I suggested the expediency of soliciting Sir James Mack- intosh, whose talents, judgment, taste, and delicacy, as well as vi PREFACE. his known attachment to Mr. Hall, gave him a peculiar fitness for the task, to undertake a sketch of the literary and intel- lectual character of his deceased friend. The letter which I received in reply to my application will show how promptly and cordially he acceded to our wishes. Great Cumberland-street, 1th March, 1831. My Dear Sir, " A great mail is fallen in Israel." I have reflected much on the subject of your letter, and will frankly tell you what seems to me to be right. I consider myself as speaking confidentially, in all that 1 say, to the friend of my ancient friend. The only point on which I am likely to differ from you is respecting your own fitness to write a Memoir. I shall say no more than that, if I had the selection, I should certainly choose you. I should be glad to see you here to breakfast on Monday next. In the mean time I may say that I approve of your plan of publishing Hall's Sermons, and, if possible, all his writings. If your want of leisure absolutely prevents you from undertaking the task, and if it be thought likely to promote the interests of Hall's family, I do not think myself at liberty to withhold the contribution of a preface to the editor chosen by the family. In that case I should require a few names and dates, and a perusal of his writings published or unpublished. I own to you that I prefer the old custom of prefixing such a modest preface by way of memoir, to the modern practice of writing huge narratives of lives in which there are no events ; which seems to me a tasteless parade, and a sure way of transmitting nothing to posterity. My paper would chiefly contain the recollections of my youth, and the result of such observations on Hall's writings as a careful perusal of them might naturally suggest. I am, my dear sir, with real esteem, Yours very faithfully, J. Mackintosh. After the interview proposed in this letter, and two or three others which shortly followed, Sir James, having matured his plan, agreed to devote about twenty pages to the purely biographical part of the Memoir, and perhaps forty more to the critical estimate of Mr. Hall's writings, of his literary attain- ments, and his intellectual powers. But the pressure of his constant attendance in Parliament during the progress of the Reform Bills, and of his heavy occupations as chairman of the Committee on East India Affairs, compelled him to postpone this labour from time to time, until his much-lamented death, in May last, terminated his intentions, and our hopes and expectations. Proportioned to Sir James's remarkable qualifications for giving a critical estimate of Mr. Hall's writings, and a philo- PREFACE. vii sophical view of the development of his intellectual character, must be the regret of the public that his purposes were not accomplished, and the reluctance of every considerate person to attempt a similar undertaking. Indeed, the high expecta- tions which were so generally formed, of the delight and instruction that would be imparted by Sir James's delineation, rested upon the assurance of a combination of qualities in him which cannot be looked for elsewhere : — an early knowledge of the subject of the memoir ; a close intimacy with him at the precise time when his faculties were most rapidly unfolding ; incessant opportunities of watching the peculiarities of his intellectual constitution, and of measuring, by the application of power to power, the native and growing energy of his mind ; a mind of nearly the same order, and possessing many of the same characteristics ; a sincere affection for his friend, ripened into as sincere a veneration for his principles ; and judgment, discrimination, and feeling most beautifully attempered, and exquisitely fitted, to trace, classify, and describe. Since none, therefore, it was presumed, would follow the plan thus laid down, from an absolute despair of combining the adequate prerequisites, the idea of such a critical estimate w£is abandoned ; and it was proposed that, instead of it, a concise Memoir, more strictly biographical, should be given. Mr. Hall's family, and the friends immediately interested in the completion and success of these Works, strongly urged me to this additional undertaking ; and though I for some weeks resisted all entreaty, and suggested applications to others, whom I sincerely thought much better qualified, yet, finding that the Works, regarded as literary property, were receiving injury from the delay, however inevitable, I at length consented to prepare the Memoir, modified, as it must be, by the neces- sities of the case. The reasons which so long prevented me from yielding to the wishes of these friends may now be adduced in apology for the imperfections with which I am per- suaded the Memoir abounds. I have had incessantly to en- counter difficulties arising from the nature of the undertaking, — from the contrast, which will assuredly force itself upon every reader, between my unfitness to prepare any memorial of Mr. Hall, and the peculiar fitness of the distinguished individual to whom the public had been looking, — from the extraordinary character of the subject of the Memoir, — from the want of such incidents and events as give interest to biography, except, indeed, one or two, upon which no man of delicacy and feeling could dwell, — from an indifferent state of health, and such a total want of leisure as never allowed me to devote two suc- cessive days, and seldom indeed two successive hours, to the viii PREFACE. labour, — from the utter impracticability of postponing it to a more favourable season ; and, in addition to all the preceding^ the difficulties growing out of a. sense of incompetency, per- petually felt, to discharge with spirit and success the func- tions of a biographer ; the habits of my life," which have been those of demonstration, disqualifying me, at least in my own judgment, for biographical or other narration. In the midst of so many difficulties, I have endeavoured, to the extent of my own information, and such authentic in- formation as 1 could collect from others, to make the reader acquainted with the principal facts in Mr. Hall's life, with his pursuits, his manners, his deportment in private and domestic life, and as a minister. I have, in short, aimed to trace him from childhood to maturity, from maturity to his death, and throughout to present a plain, simple, accurate, and, I hope, a sufficiently full account of this most eminent and estimable man. His extraordinary talents as a writer will be infinitely better inferred from the perusal of his Works, than from any such critical examination of them as I could have presented. Some of the hints which are occasionally introduced as 1 have proceeded may, perhaps, assist in illustrating a few peculiari- ties in his intellectual character ; or, by connecting some of his productions with the circumstances in which they were com- posed, may probably cause them to be perused with additional interest. But I have kept in view a still higher object, — that of tracing him in his social and moral relations, and showing how gradually, yet how completely, his fine talents and ac- quirements became subordinated to the power of Divine grace, and devoted to the promotion of the glory of God, and the hap- piness of man. Fearing, however, that my own biographical sketch will convey but an inadequate idea, even of Mr. Hall's private and social character, I have inserted, in an Appendix, communi- cations received from three friends, and which will, I trust, serve considerably to supply my deficiencies. Mr. Hall's qualities as a preacher I have attempted to describe briefly, as they fell under my own notice at Cambridge ; at a season when they had nearly reached their meridian with regard to intellect and eloquence, though not with respect to all the higher requisites of ministerial duty. I have also in- serted in the Appendix a short account of Mr. Hall's preaching in 1821, written by the late Mr. .Tohn Scott. These, with the more comprehensive, elaborate, and philosophical "Observa- tions," from the pen of Mr. Foster, will, I trust, enable such as never had the privileo-e of listenins: to Mr. Hall's instructions from the pulpit, to form a tolerable estimate of his power as a PREFACE. ix preacher. Although, as will be perceived, I differ from Mr. Foster in some of his opinions and criticisms, yet_ I cannot but fully appreciate the peculiar fidelity and corresponding beauty with which he has delineated, not merely the more prominent excellences of Mr. Hall's sermons, both with regard to struc- ture and delivery, but some of those which, while they are pal- pable as to their result,' are la^tent as to their sources, until they are brought to light by Mr. Foster's peculiar faculty of mental research. A'^d hence it will, J am persuaded, be found, that while he only professes to describe the character of his friend "as a preacher," he has successfully explored, and correctly exhibited, those attributes of his intellectual character which caused both his preaching and his writing to be so singularly delightful and impressive. In all that is thus presented, whether by my several corres- pondents, by Mr. Foster, or by myself, the object has not been to overload the character of our deceased friend with extrava- gant eulogium ; but by describing it- as it has been viewed by different individuals, to enable the public — and may I not add, posterity '/ — to form, from their combined result, a more accurate estimate of his real character, intellectual, moral, and religious, than could be gathered from the efforts of any single writer. To add to the usefulness of the Works, by facilitating refer- ence to any part of them, a gentleman of competent judgment and information has prepared the general Index, which is placed at the end of this volume. The whole Works are now' committed to the public, with the persuasion that every part, except that which the editor has felt his own inability to execute successfully, will be favourably received ; and that the greater portion of the contents will be found permanently interesting, instructive, and valuable. OLINTHUS GREGORY. RoYAT- Military Academy, bth Dec. 1832. CONTENTS OF VOL. llf. Page A Brief Memoir of the Rev. Robert Hall, A.M., by Dr. Gregory 9 Appendix. Note A. — Miscellaneous Gleanings from Mr. Hall's Conversa- tional Remarks 76 B. — Quotations from the Writings of Sir James Mackin- tosh and Dr. Parr . 83 C. — Character of Mr. Hall as a Preacher. By Mr. John Scott 87 D. — Extract of a Letter from Dr. Prichard 89 E. — Sketches of Mr. Hall's Character, especially in Pri- vate Life 89 Observations on Mr. Hall's Character as a Preacher, by . John Foster 95 Note. — Serampore Missionaries. — Letter of Mr. Foster to Dr. Gregory 125 NOTES OF SERMONS. L On the Being and Name of Jehovah 13 n. The Spirituality of the Divine Nature .... 16 HL Outline of the Argument of Twelve Lectures on the . Socinian Controversy 19 IV. On Christ's Divinity and Condescension .... 24 V. On the Spirit and Tendency, of Socinianism ... 28 VL On Angels '........ 35 VIL On the Personality of Satan 41 Vin. On the extreme Corruption of Mankind before the General Deluge 51 IX. On the End of Man's Existence 57 X. Claims of the Flesh 59 XI. On the Cause, Agent, and Purpose of Regeneration 65 XIL On Spiritual Death 70 XIII. On Conversion, as illustrated by that of St. Paul . 74 XIV. On the Conversion of St. Paul 78 XV. The Lamb slain, the Object of Rapture to the Heavenly Hosts 84 Xll XVI. XVII. XVIII. XIX. XX. XXI. XXII. XXIII. XXIV. XXV. XXVI. XXVII. XXVIII. XXIX. XXX. XXXI. XXXII. XXXIII. XXXIV. XXXV. XXXVI. XXXVII. XXXVIII. XXXIX. XL. XLl. CONTENTS. Page The Glory 6f Christ's Kingdom ....... 88 On Spiritual Leprosy 0.3 On ISpiritiial Leprosy 96 On Counting the Cost ". , .101 Parallel between the War with the Canaanitish Nations, and that of Believers with their Spiritual Enemies . . . .-..•. "^ .•.''.. . . . 106 On the Law of God in the Heart 112 On Prayer for the Increase of Faith ..... 117 Second Discourse on Prayer for the Increase of Fahh 119 On Wisdom .. . . .... 121 On Engagedness of Heart in approaching unto God 125 On Family Worship 130 Reflections on the Inevitable Lot of Human Life . 137 On Chastisement resulting in Penitence .... 142 On the Comforts of Christians under either Worldly or Spiritual Trials . . 145 On Humility before God 149 On Patience .154 On Candour and Liberality, as evinced in promoting the Erection of Places of Worship . . . . 157 On the Reward of the Pious in Heaven .... 164 On taking the Name of. God in Vain 169 On the Origin and Import of the Name Christians 174 On Love of the Brethren, as a Criterion of a State of Salvation ' . . . . 180 On the Duty of Intercession 185 God's Eicrnity considered, in Heference to the Sus- pension of his promised Purposes 189 The Lord's-day commemorative of Christ's Resur- rection ■ . . 193 Christ's Care over Churches and Ministers . . . 196 No Temple in Heaven 199 LETTERS. I. To the Baptist Church,. Broadmead, Bristol . . 207 II. To tiie Rev. Isaiah Birt, Plymouth 208 III. Accepting the Pastoral Charge of the Baptist Church at Cambridge 209 IV. To Miss Wilkins, afterward Mrs. Fysh, of Cam- berwell 209 V. To Mrs. Fysh, of Camberwell, on the Death of her Sister, Mrs. Parsons 211 VI. To tlie Rev. James Phillips, Haverfordwest . . . 213 CONTENTS. XlU Page VII. To the Rev. James Phillips 214 VIII. To the Rev. James Phillips 216 IX. To Mrs. Tucker, Plymouth Dock ...... 217 X. To Mrs. Tucker 218 XI. To Mf. Hewitt Fysh, Camberwell, on the Death of Mrs. Fysh . 219 Xl^I. To Dr. Gregory. — Origin and Object of the Ec- ■ -lectic Review- 221 XIII. To William Hollick, Esq., of Whittlesford, near • Cambridge. — On his own Recovery from a severe Malady 221 . XIV. To Dr. Gregory .-^On the Certainty attending Re- ligious Knowledge . .' . . 222 XV. To William Hollick, Esq.-;-On his Recovery from a second Attack ' 224 XVI. To the Rev. James Phillips ..-...'.. 225 XVII. To the Church of Christ, of the Baptist Persuasion, in Cambridge. — On resigning the Pastoral Charge 226 XVIII. The Baptist Church at Cambridge to the Rev. Robert Hall. — In Reply to the preceding . . . 227 XIX. To Mr. Newton Bosworth, Cambridge .... 22:S XX. To the Rev. James Phillips ." . ( 223 XXI. To the Rev. Dr. Cox 231 • XXII,' To the Rev. Dr. Ryland 232 XXIII. To the Rev. James Phillips . . . 233 XXIV. To a Friend in Perplexity as to his Religious State 233 XXV. . To the same . . . " 234 'XXVI. To the Rev. James Pliillips. ,. 235 XXVII. To Ebenezer Foster, Esq., Cambridge .... 236 XXVIIL To the Rev. Josiah Hill *. . . 237 XXIX. To William Hollick, Esq.— On the Death of Mrs- Hollick . . . . . 238 XXX. To R. Foster, Jun. Esq., Cambridge . . . . . 239 XXXI. To Joseph Gutteridge, Esq., Denmark Hill, Cam- berwell 240 XXXII. . From Mr. Gutteridge to Mr. Hall. — Proposing that he should preach a Series of Lectures in London 240 XXXIII. To Joseph Gutteridge, Esq. — In Reply to the , preceding 242 XXXIV. To Joseph Gutteridge, Esq. — On the same Subject 243 XXXV. To the Rev. James Phillips 244 XXXVI. Extract of a Letter to Mrs. Angas, Newcastle-upon- Tyne 245 XXXVII. To Mr. Newton Bosworth, Cambridge .... 246 XXXVIII. To my young Friends of Mr. Edmond's Congre- gation 247 XXXIX. Extract from a Letter to the Rev. W. Button . . 248 Xiv CONTENTS. Page XL. To the Rev. James Phillips, Clapham. — On Occa- sion of the Death of his own Son 248 XLI. To the Rev. W. Button 249 XLII. To the Rev. Dr. Fletcher of Blackburn, now of Stepney " 250 XLIII. To the Rev. Dr. Fletcher ....'.:.. 251 XLIV. To Dr. Ryland . . " 252 XLV. To Mr. Josiah Conder 253 XLVI. To the Rev. W. Chaplin, Bishop Stortford . . .254 XLVII. To Dr. Ryland . ' 255 . XLVIII. Extract from a Letter to the Rev. W. Button . . 255 XLIX. To the Rev. Thomas Grinfield, Clifton .... 256 L. To Dr. Ryland.— On Public Missionary Meetings 257 LL To Dr. Ryland 258 ■LIL To Dr. Ryland.— (Extract.) 259 Lin. To the Rev. James Phillips .259 LIV. To Dr. Gregory, on the Death of Mr. Boswell Brandon Beddome 260 LV. To the Rev. Thomas Langdon, Leeds .... 261 LVL To Dr. Ryland . ... 262 LVIL To William Hollick, Esq 263 LVIII. Extract from a Letter to the Rev. W. Button . . 264 LIX. To the Rev. James Phillips. — (Extract.) . - . 265 LX. To the Rev. Thomas Grinfield, Clifton.— What Doc- trines are fundamental ?....."... 265 LXL To the Rev. Joseph Ivimey, London ..... 267 LXIL To Mrs. Tucker 268 LXIIL To the Rev. Thomas Langdon 269 LXIV. To a Gentleman at Trinity College, Cambridge — On Future Punishment 270 LXV. To Richard Foster, Jun. Esq, 271 L:>i:VL To the Rev. Isaiah Birt 272 LXVn. To the Rev. Thomas Langdon, of Leeds. — On the Death of his Daughter 273 LXVin. To the Rev. Thomas Grinfield, Clifton.— On Hutch- insonianism 273 LXIX. To the Rev. . — In Reply to a Request to write a Review 274 LXX. To Mr. J. E. Ryland.— (Extract.) 275 LXXI. To Mrs. Langdon. — On the Death of her Husband 276 LXXII. To J. B. Williams, Esq., Shrewsbury .... 277 LXXIII. To Mr. J. E. Ryland 278 LXXIV. To Mr. J. E. Ryland.— On Dr. Ryland's Death . 279 LXXV. To Mrs. Ryland.— On the same 279 LXXVI. To Mr. Arthur Tozer, Bristol. — In reference to Mr. Hall's Removal to Broadraead 280 LXXVII. To the same 281 LXXV III. To the same 282 CONTENTS. XV LXXIX. LXXX. LXXXI. LXXXII. LXXXIII. LXXXIV. LXXXV. LXXXVI. Page To the same 284 To the Church of Christ assembling in Broadmead, Bristol, on accepting the Pastoral Office . . To the Rev. P. J. Saflery, of Salisbury . . . To the Rev. Dr. J. P. Smith, Homerton . . . To W. B. Gurney, Esq.— On the Death of Mrs Gurney 288 To Ebenezer Foster, Esq •■. , . . 289 To James Nutter, Esq., Shelford, near Cambridge 290 To Ebenezer Foster, Esq., Cambridge .... 291 285 285 286. I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. xn. XIII. XIV. XV. XVI. XVII. XVIII. XIX. XX. XXI. SERMONS. The Spirituality of the Divine' Nature .... 295 The Glory of God in Concealing 310 On the Duty, Happiness, and Honour of main- taining the Course prescribed to us by Providence 332 Christ's Pre-existence, Condescension, and Exalt- ation 340 The Glory of Christ's Kingdom 353 God's Ways, though often inscrutable, are righteous and just 363 On the Discouragements of Pious Men .... 372 The Vanity of Man apart from his Immortality . 380 Death, the last Enemy, shall be destroyed . . . 387 The Success of Missions depends upon the Agency • • of the Spirit 3gg The Signs of the Times 424 The Love of Life ^ 423 The Lamb of God — his Character — his Sacrifice — and nis Claim to Universal Attention . , . 430 The Advantages of Civil Government, contrasted with the Blessings of the Spiritual Kingdom of Jesus Christ 444 The Enlargement of Christian Benevolence . . 452 Marks of Love to God [ 459 The Joy of Angels over a Repenting Sinner . . 466 Nature and Danger of Evil Communications . . 475 The Evils of Idolatry, and the Means of its Abolition 4gy Christ's Mission for the Adoption of Sons in the Fulness of Time 494 Points of Agreement in the State of the Rich and ^he Poor 509 A BRIEF MEMOIR THE REV. ROBERT HALL, A.M. BY DR. GREGORY. Vol. III.— 1 A BRIEF MEMOIR REV. ROBERT HALL, A.M. Robert Hall, whose Works are collected in the volumes now pub- lished, was born at Arnsby, a village about eight miles from Leicester on the 2d of May, 1764. His father was descended from a respectable family of yeomanry in Northumberland, whence he removed to Arnsby in 1753, on being chosen the pastor of a Baptist congregation in that place. He was not a man of learning, but a man of correct judgment and solid piety, an eloquent and successful preacher of the gospel, and one of the first among the modern Baptists in our villages who aimed to bring them down from the heights of ultra-Calvinism to those views of religious truth which are sound, devotional, and practical. He was the author of several useful publications, of which one, the " Help to Zion's Travellers," has gone through several editions, and is still much and beneficially read, on account of its tendency to remove various often-urged objections against some momentous points of evangelical truth. He was often appointed to draw up the " Circular Letters" from the ministers and messengers of the Northampton Association. One of these letters, published in 1776, presents, in small compass, so able a defence of the doctrine of the Trinity, that it might be advantageously republished for more general circulation. This excellent man died in March, 1791. His character has been beautifully sketched by his son,* who, in one sentence, while portraying his father, with equal accuracy depicted himself: — " He appeared to the greatest advantage upon sub- jects where the faculties of most men fail them ; for the natural ele- ment of his mind was greatness." The wife of this valuable individual was a woman of sterling sense and distinguished piety. She died in December, 1776. Robert was the youngest of fourteen children, six of whom survived their parents. Four of these were daughters, of whom three are still living ; the other son, John, settled as a farmer at Arnsby, and died in 1806. Robert, while an infant, was so delicate and feeble, that it was scarcely expected he would reach maturity. Until he was two years of age he could neither walk nor talk. He was carried about in the arms of a nurse, who was kept for him alone, and who was directed to take him close after the plough in the field, and at other times to the sheep-pen, from a persuasion, very prevalent in the midland counties, that the exhalations from newly ploughed land, and from sheep in the * See vol. ii. p. 369-371 4 MEMOIR OF ROBERT HALL. fold, are salubrious and strengthening. Adjacent to his fathers dwell- incr-house was a burial-ground ; and the nurse, a woman of integrity and intelligence, judging from his actions that he was desirous to learn the meaning of the inscriptions on the grave-stones, and of the various figures carved upon them, managed, by the aid of those inscrip- tions, to teach him the letters of the alphabet, then to group them into syllables and words, and thus, at length, to read and speak. No sooner was his tongue loosed by this unusual but efficient process, than his advance became constantly marked. Having acquired the ability to speak, his constitutional ardour at once appeared. He was inces- santly asking questions, and became a great and a ra-pid talker. One day, when he was about three years old, on his expressing disapproba- tion of some person w ho spoke quickly, his mother remhided him that he spoke very fast ; " iVo," said he, " / only keep at it." Like many others who were born in villages, he received his first regular instructions (after he left his nurse's arms) at a dame's school. Dame Scotton had the honour of being his first professional instructer. From her he was transferred to a Mrs. Lyley, in the same village. While under their care he evinced an extraordinary thirst for know- ledge, and became a collector of books. In the summer season, after the school-hours were over, he would put his richly prized library, among which was an Entick's Dictionary, into his pinafore, steal into the grave-yard (which, from an early and fixed association, he regarded as his study), lie down upon the grass, spread his books around him, and there remain until the deepening shades of evening compelled him to retire into the house. At about six years of age he was placed, as a day-scholar, under the charge of a Mr. Simmons, of Wigston, a village about four miles from Arnsby. At first, he walked to school in the mornings, and home again in the evenings. But the severe pain in his back, from which he suffered so much through life, had even then begun to distress him ; so tliat he was often obliged to lie down upon the road, and sometimes his brother John and his other school-fellows carried him, in turn, he repaying them during their labour by relating some amusing story, or detailing some of the interesting results of his reading. On his father's ascertaining his inability to walk so far daily, he took lodgings for him and his brother at the house of a friend in the village : after this arrangement was made, they went to Wigston on the Monday mornings, and returned to Arnsby on the Saturday afternoons. The course of instruction at Mr. Simmons's school was not very ex- tensive ; and Robert was not likely to restrict himself, as a student, to its limits. On starting from home on the Monday, it was his practice to take with him two or three books from his father's library, that he might read them in the intervals between the school hours. The books he selected were not those of mere amusement, but such as required deep and serious thought. The works of Jonathan Edwards, for ex- ample, were among his favourites ; and it is an ascertained fact, that before he was nine years of age, he had perused and reperused, with intense interest, the treatises of that profound and extraordinary thinker, on the " Affections," and on the " Will." About the same time he read, with a like interest, " Butler's Analogy." He used to ascribe his early predilection for this class of studies, in great measure, to his intimate association, in mere childhood, with a tailor, one of his father's congre- gation, a very shrewd, well-informed man, and an acute metaphysician. Before he was ten years old, he had written many essays, principally on religious subjects ; and often invited his brother and sisters to hear EARLY INSTRUCTION. 5 him preach. About this time, too, in one of tliose anticipatory distri- butions of a father's property, which, I apprehend, are not unusual with boys, he proposed that his brother should have the cows, sheep, and pigs, on their father's death, and leave him " all the books." These juvenile " dividers of the inheritance," seem to have overlooked their sisters; unless, indeed, they assigned them the furniture. The inci- dent, however, is mentioned simply to show what it was that Robert even then most prized. He remained at Mr. Simmons's school until he was eleven years of age, when this conscientious master informed the father that he was quite unable to keep pace with his pupil, declaring that he had been often obliged to sit up all night to prepare the lessons for the morning; a practice he could no longer continue, and must therefore relinquish his favourite scholar. The proofs of extraordinary talent and of devotional feeling which Robert had now for some time exhibited, not only gratified his excel- lent parents, but seemed to mark the expediency and propriety of de- voting him to the sacred office ; but the delicate health of the son, and the narrow means of the father, occasioned some perplexity. Mr. Hall, therefore, took his son to Kettering, in order that he might avail himself of the advice of an influential and valued friend residing there, Mr. Beeby Wallis. Their interview soon led to the choice of a suitable boarding-school ; but the pallid and sickly appearance of tlie boy exciting Mr. Wallis's sympathy, he prevailed upon his father to leave him at his house for a few weeks, in the hope that change of air would improve his health. This gentleman was so greatly astonished at the precocity of talent of his youthful visiter, that he several times requested him to deliver a short address to a select auditory invited for the purpose. The juvenile orator often afterward adverted to the injury done him by the incongruous elevation to which he was thus raised. "Mr. Wallis," said he, " was one whom everybody loved. He belonged to a family in which probity, candour, and benevolence constituted the general likeness : but conceive, sir, if you can, the egregious impro- priety of setting a boy of eleven to preach to a company of grave gentlemen, full half of whom wore wigs. I never call the circum- stance to mind but with grief at the vanity it inspired ; nor, when I think of such mistakes of good men, am I incUned to question the correctness of Baxter's language, strong as it is, where he says, ' Nor should men turn preachers as the river Nilus breeds frogs (saith Herodotus), when one halimoveth before the other is made, and while it is yet but plain mud /' "* Robert's health appearing much improved from his short residence at Kettering, he was placed by his father as a boarder, at the school of the Rev. John Ryland in the neighbouring town of Northampton. Mr. Ryland was a very extraordinary man, whose excellences and eccen- tricities were strangely balanced. In him were blended the ardour and vehemence of Whitfield, with the intrepidity of Luther. His pulpit oratory was of the boldest character, and singularly impressive, when he did not overstep the proprieties of the ministerial function. In his school he was both loved and feared; his prevailing kindness and benevolence exciting affection, while his stern determination to do what was right, as well as to require what he thought right, too often kept alive among his pupils a sentiment of apprehension and alarm. So far as I can learn, from several who had been under his care, he taught Greek * Saint's Rest, Preface to Part 11. original edition. 6 MEMOIR OF ROBERT HALL. better than Latin, and the rudiments of mathematical science with more success than those of grammar and the languages. His pupils never forgot his manner of explaining the doctrine and application of ratios and proportions ; and they who had ever formed a part of his " living orrery," by which he incorporated the elements of tlie solar system among the amusements of tlie play-ground, obtained a knowledge of that class of facts which they seldom, if ever, lost. Our youthful student remained under Mr. Ryland's care but little more than a year and a half; during which, however, according to his father's testimony, " he made great progress in Latin and Greek ;" while, in his own judgment, the principle of emulation was called into full activity, the habit of composition was brought into useful exercise, the leading principles of abstract science were collected, and a thirst for knowledge of every kind acquired. It should also be mentioned here, that it was during the time Robert was Mr. Ryland's pupil that he heard a sermon preached at Northampton, by Mr. Robins, of Daventry, whose rehgious instruction, conveyed " in language of the most classic purity," at once "impressive and delightful," excited his early relish for chaste and elegant composition.* From the time he quitted Northampton until he entered the " Bristol Education Society," or academy for the instruction of young men pre- paring for the ministerial office among the Baptists, he studied divinity, and some collateral subjects, principally under the guidance of his father, with occasional hints from his acute metaphysical friend, still residing in the same village. Having, in this interval, given satisfac- tory proofs of his piety, and of a strong predilection for the pastoral office, he was placed at the Bristol Institution, upon Dr. Ward's founda- tion, in October, 1778, being then in his fifteenth year. He remained there until the autumn of 1781, when the president of the institution reported to the general meeting of subscribers and friends, that " two pupils, Messrs. Stennet and Hall, had been continued upon Dr. Ward's exhibition, but were now preparing to set out for Scotland, according to the doctor's will." The Bristol Academy, when Mr. Hall first joined it, was under the superintendence of the Rev. Hugh Evans, who was shortly afterward succeeded by his son. Dr. Caleb Evans, both as president of the insti- tution, and as pastor of the Baptist church in Broadmead. The Rev. James Newton was the classical tutor. Under these able men he pur- sued his studies with great ardour and perseverance. He became an early riser; and it was remarked in consequence, that he was often ready to attend the tutor for the morning lessons, before some of his fellow-students had commenced their preparation. His sentunents at this time respecting his theological tutor, and the importance of his studies in general, may be gathered from the subjoined extracts from two letters to his father, both written before July, 1780. " Dr. Eviins is a most amiable person in every respect : as a man, generous and open-hearted ; as a Christian, lively and spiritual ; as a preacher, pathetic and fer- vent ; and as a tutor, gentle, meek, and condescending. I can truly say that he has, on all occasions, behaved to me with the tenderness and atTeclion of a parent, whom I am bound by tlie most endearing ties to hold in everlasting honour and esteem. " Through the goodness of God, of whom in all things I desire to be contin- ually mindful, my pursuits of knowledge afford me increasing pleasure, and lay open fresh sources of improvement and entertainment. That branch of wisdom in which, above all others, I wish and crave your assistance is divinity, of all others * See vol. ii. p. 390. AT THE BRISTOL INSTITITTION. 7 the most interesting and important. It is the height of my ambition, that, in some happy period of my life, my lot may be cast near you, when I may have the un- speakable pleasure of consulting, on different subjects, you, whose judgment I es- teem not less than an oracle. " We, poor short-sighted creatures, are ready to apprehend that we know all things, before we know any thing ; whereas it is a great part of knowledge to know that we know nothing. Could we behold the vast depths of unfathomed science, or glance into the dark recesses of hidden knowledge, we should be ready to tremble at the precipice, and cry out, ' Who is sufficient for these things 1" The system of instruction at Bristol comprehended not merely the learned languages and the rudiments of science, but a specific course of preparation for the ministerial office, including the habit of public speaking. Essays and theses on appropriate topics were written and delivered, under the direction of the tutors : religious exercises were carefully attended to ; and the students were appointed, in turns, to speak or preach upon subjects selected by the president. Among the books first put into Mr. Hall's hands to prepare him for these exercises was Gibbon's Rhetoric, which he read with the utmost avidity, and often mentioned in after-life, as rekindling the emotion excited by Mr. Robins's preaching, improving his sensibility to the utility as well as beauty of fine writing, and creating an intense solicitude to acquire an elegant as well as a perspicuous style. He was therefore more active in this department of academical labour than many of his compeers. Usually, however, after his written compositions had answered the purpose for which they were prepared, he made no effort to preserve them ; but either carelessly threw them aside, or distributed them among his associates, if they expressed any desire to possess them. Some of these early productions, therefore, have escaped the corrosions of time. The only one which I have been able to obtain is an essay on " Ambition," in which there is more of the tumultuary flourish of the orator, than he would ever have approved after he reached his twen- tieth year. Nor was it correct in sentiment. The sole species of ex- cellence recommended to be pursued was superiority of intellect ; all moral qualities, as well as actions directed to the promotion of human welfare, being entirely overlooked. Indeed, there is reason to apprehend that at this period of his life, Mr. Hall, notwithstanding the correctness and excellence of his general principles, and the regularity of his devotional habits, had set too high an estimate on merely intellectual attainments, and valued himself, not more perhaps than was natural to youth, yet too much, on the extent of his mental possessions. No wonder, then, that he should experience salutary mortification. And thus it happened. He was appointed, agreeably to the arrangement already mentioned, to deliver an address in the vestry of Broadmead chapel, on 1 Tim. iv. 10. " Therefore, we both labour and suffer reproach, because we trust in the living God, who is the Saviour of all men; specially of those that believe." After pro- ceeding, for a short time, much to the gratification of his auditory, he suddenly paused, covered his face with his hands, exclaimed, " Oh ! I have lost all my ideas," and sat down, his hands still hiding his face. The failure, however, painful as it was to his tutors, and humiliating to himself, was such as rather augmented than diminished their persuasion of what he could accomplish, if once he acquired self-possession. He was therefore appointed to speak again, on the same subject, at the same place, the ensuing week. This second attempt was accompanied by a second failure, still more painful to witness, and still more grievous to bear. He hastened from the vestry, and on retiring to his room, 8 MEMOIR OF ROBERT HALL. exclaimed, " If this does not humble me, the devil m«5f have me !" Such were the early efforts of him whose humility afterward became as con- spicuous as his talents, and who, for nearly half a century, excited uni- versal attention and admiration by the splendour of his pulpit elo- quence. Our student spent the first summer vacation after his entering the Bristol institution under the paternal roof at Arnsby ; and, in the course of that residence at home, accompanied liis father to some public reli- gious service at Clipstone, a village in Northamptonshire. I\Ir. Hall, senior, and Mr. Beddome of Bourton, well known by his Hymns, and his truly valuable Sermons,* were both engaged to preach. But the latter, being much struck with the appearance, and some of the remarks, of the son of his friend, was exceedingly anxious that he should preach in the evening, and proposed to relinquish his own engagement, rather than be disappointed. To this injudicious proposal, after resisting every importunity for some time, he at length yielded ; and entered the pulpit to address an auditory of ministers, many of whom he had been accus- tomed from his infancy to regard with the utmost reverence. He selected for his text 1 .lohn i. 5, " God is light, and in Him is no darkness at all;" and, it is affirmed, treated this mysterious and awful subject with such metaphysical acumen, and drew from it such an impressive application, as excited the deepest interest. On the arrival of the summer vacation, in 1780, he again visited Arnsby ; and during the period he then remained at home, his father became fully satisfied that his piety was genuine, as well as that his qualifications for the office of a preacher were of a high order. He therefore expressed to many of his friends his desire that he should be "set apart to the sacred work." Solicitous not to be led aside from a correct judgment by the partiality of a father, he resolved that the church over which he was pastor should judge of his son's fitness, and recognise their conviction by a solemn act. The members of the church, after cautious and dehberate inquiry, ratified the decision of the anxious parent, and earnestly and unanimously requested " that Robert Hall, jun. might be set apart to public employ." " Accordingly," as the following extract from ' the Church-book' testifies, on the 13th of August, 1780, "he was examined by his father before the church, respecting his inclination, motives, and end, in refer- ence to theministrJ^ and was likewise desired to make a declaration of his religious sentiments. All which being done to the entire satisfac- tion of the chmxli,! they therefore set him apart by lifting up their right hands, and by solemn prayer. * See vol. ii. p. 45fi, 457. T As the words cJiutcIl, deacon, &e., when used by consregalional dissenters, whether Baptist or Pedot)a(i(ist, are employed in senses lilfTering from what are current among Episcopalians, 1 annex this brief note to prevent misconception. Among the orthodox dissenters of the class just specified, a distinction is always made between a church and a congregation. Acnni^reiratioa includes the whole of nn assembly collected in one plate for worship, and may therefore comprehend, not merely real Christians, but nominal Christians, and, it may be, unbelievers, who, from various iinotives. ollcn attend public worship. The church. is constituted of that portion of these, who, after cautious investigation, are believed, in the exer- cise of judgment and charity, to be real Cliristians. It is regarded as the duty of such to un te themselves in fellowship with a church, and lonform to its rules; and the admission is by the suf- frage of the members of the respective c/rarcA ; its connected congregation having no voice in this matter. A Christian church is regarded as a voluntary society, into which the members are incor- porated under the authority of Christ, whose laws they engage to obey, for the important purposes of promoting the mutual improvement of those who compose it by an orderly discharge of religious duties, and of hrintring others to the knowledge of the truth. Every such church of Christ is con- sidered as an indcpi'udenl society, having a right to enjoy its own scntinicnls, to i hoose its owti oflicers, mainta ii its own discipline, admit members, or expel them on persisting in conduct un- worthy of the Cliristiaa profession ; without being controlled or called to an account by any otbers whatever. SET APART FOR THE MINISTRY. g " His father then delivered a discourse to him, from 2 Tim. ii. 1. Thou, therefore, my son, be strong in the grace thai is in Christ Jesus. Being thus sent forth, he preached in the afternoon from 2 Thess. i. 7, 8. The Lord Jesus shall be revealed from heaven, with his mighty angels, in flaming fire, taking vengeance on them that know not God, and that obey not the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ. — May the Lord bless him, and grant him great success !" It is worthy of observation that, on this solemn occasion, as well as when he preached at Chpstone, Mr. Hah selected texts of the class most calculated to elicit those peculiar powers for which he was through life distinguished. In little more than a year after Mr. Hall had been thus publicly designated a preacher of the gospel, having pursued his studies at Bris- tol with great assiduity and corresponding success, he was, as already hinted, appointed to King's College, Aberdeen, on Dr. Ward's founda- tion. In his journey thither, he was accompanied by Mr. Joseph Sten- nett, the son of the late Rev. Dr. Stennett, and another student, Mr. John Pownall, still livhig. The two former of these had letters to the venerable Dr. Erskine of Edinburgh ; and he again supplied them with introductions to two eminent individuals at Aberdeen. This appears from a letter sent by the doctor, 2d Nov. 1781, to Mr. Ryland of North- ampton ; from which, as it exhibits his view of the state of things at Aberdeen at that period, I present a brief extract. " I had the pleasure of your letter by Messrs. Stennett and Hall last week. They appear to me pleasant young men, and I should have been happy to have had further opportunities of showing my regard to the children of so worthy parents than their short stay here allowed. Though there are many excellent teachers at Aberdeen, and both they and the ministers are remarkable for purity of morals, I have some fears, from dilferent accounts, that the general strain of preaching there is less evangelical than in several pulpits in Glasgow or Edinburgh Principal Campbell and Dr. Beattie are, in my opinion, able and worthy men ; and my difterence with the first, as to the American war and the popish bill has not impaired our mutual esteem. I wrote letters to introduce the young gentle- men to both." Mr. Hall, for many years afterward, used often to speak of the affectionate attentions of Dr. Erskine on this occasion ; and of his own feelings when on taking leave the venerable man of God exhorted him to self-vigilance, kissed him, laid his hand upon his head, blessing him, and commending him to the watchful care of the great Head of the church. At the time when he went to Aberdeen, the reputation of the two colleges, King's and Marischal College, was almost equally balanced. At the latter. Principal Campbell and Dr. Beattie, professor of moral philosophy, had attained a high and merited celebrity both on account of their lectures and their writings : while at King's College, the divinity lectures of Dr. Gerai-d were much and greatly esteemed; and some of the other professors were men of eminence. Many, therefore, especially of the divinity students, attended the appropriate lectur«;s at the two colleges.* Such a church, as a Christian community, observes the sacrament, or " commun on of the body anil blood of Christ," at stated sea>ons; themembersof other churches being admissible, with the consent of the members present, on any speiific occasion. The otlicers ol' such a church consist of bisho])s or presbyters (i. e. pastors) and deacons- The latter are not, as in the Church of England, and .imongother Episcopalians, an order of the clergy, but are laymr.n. They are chosen from amonz the members of the church, and their business is 'to see that tlie table of the Lord, the table of the pour, and the table of the minister be supiilied" They attend to the se ular concerns of the churrh, as a body, and to all that relates to the conve- nience of the society, in reference to their public meeting. In many societies, too, they assist the pastor in his general superintendence. * At King's College, during Mr. Hall's studies there, Mr. John Leslie was professor of Greek ; 10 MEMOIR OF ROBERT HALL. Mr. Hall, in a letter addressed to his deservedly prized friend the late Dr. Ryland, towards the end of this first session at college, speaks thus of his studies and of two of the professors : — " We entered the Greek class under Mr. Leslie, who, though a man of no appa- rent brightness of parts, is, notwithstanding, well tilted for his office, being a good grammarian, and attentive to the interests of his pupils. We have been employed in the class in going over more accurately the principles of the Greek language, and reading select passages in Xenophon and Homer : and I have privately read .through Xenophon's Anabasis, and Memorabilia of Socrates, several books of Homer, and some of the Greek Testament ; and am now reading Longini de Subiimitate liber, which I hope to finish next week." In the same letter he mentions his reading with Professor Ogilvie, whose versions of the Latin poets he characterizes as " extremely elegant." He laments the want of religious advantages in this seat of learning, and deplores the profanity and profligacy of many of the students ; one of whom, he assures liis friend, affirmed that he knew no use even in the word " God," except to give point to an oath ! To make up for this sad deficiency, he adds, " We have found some agree- able acquaintances in the New Town, and among them the sister of Mr. Cruden, the author of the Concordance." The same letter contains evidence that he did not confine his atten- tion solely to classical and mathematical studies. After expressing his admiration of the devotional as well as rational spirit that " lives and breathes" in every page of Edwards, he adds : — " My thoughts are at present too much immersed in literary exercises to admit of long or close application of thought to any thing else. I have, however, been thinking a little on the distinction of naliiral and moral ability, and have in my mind an objection upon which I should be glad to have your thoughts. It is briefly this : If, accordnig to Edwards, the will always follows the last dictate of the understanding, and if it be determined, directed, and biased by the view of the understanding, what room then is left for any notion of moral ability as distinct from natural ? or how can there in this case be any depravity of the will, without supposing a prior defect in the understanding] Since the will, if it be wrong in its bias, is first led to that bias by the understanding ; and where then the pos- sibility of a moral inahililij consisting with a natural ability ? This I hope to have some conversation with you upon when I have the happiness of seeing you. I have with me Edwards on the Will, and have lately perused it often ; and the more I read it the more I admire." The lamented death of Sir James Mackintosh has left a blank which none can adequately fill, witli regard to Mr. Hall's character, habits, and the development of his intellectual powers at this period. Oii applica- tion, however, to an esteemed friend. Professor Paul, he has kindly communicated a few particulars, wliich I shall give in his own language. " What I now transmit is drawn from the college records, from the recollection of Dr. Jack, principal of King's College, and formerly for three years a class- fellow of iMr. Hall, and from my own knowledge; for I, also, was a contemporary of Mr. Hall, having commenced my first year's studies when lie commenced his fourth. It api)cars from the album that Mr. Hall entered college in the beginning of November, 1781. His first year was spent principally under the tuition of Mr. Professor Leslie, in the acquisition of the Greek language ; his second, third, and Mr. Roderick Macleod, professor of philosophy, including mathematics ; Mr. W. Ogilvie, professor of humanity ; Mr. .lames Uunbar, professor of moral philosophy ; and Dr. Ale.xander Gerard, professor of divinity. Thnu;;h some of these were highly distinguislied men, Dr. Gerard was most known to the world of English literature. Among his works arc " \n Essay on Genius," " An Essay on Taste," two volumes of valuable Sermons, and his " Lectures on the Pastoral Care," pub- lished la 1799 by his son, Dr. Gilbert Gerard. AT ABERDEEN. 11 fourth years under that of Mr. Professor Macleod, when he studied mathematics, natural philosophy, and moral philosophy. He took his degree in arts (i. e. A.M. degree) on the 30th of March, 1785. Principal Jack says that he attended the professor of humanity, Mr. Ogilvie, during the four years he was at college, both for Latin and natural history ; but as there is no record of the students of the humanity and natural history classes, this fact depends wholly on the principal's re- collection. I learn from the same source that Sir James Mackintosh and Mr. Hall while at college read a great deal of Greek in private, and that their reputation was high among their fellow-students for their attainments in that language. Principal Jack also bears testimony to Mr. Hall's great success in his mathematical and philosophical studies, and affirms that he was the first scholar of his class, in the various branches of education taught at college. During one of the sessions the principal was member of a select literary society, consisting of only eight or ten students, of which society Sir James and Mr. Hall were the distinguished ornaments. None of Mr. Hall's college exercises are now to be found in this place ; but my impressions correspond with those of the principal, that his acquire- ments were of the very first order ; and as Sir James had left college before I entered, having received his A.M. degree 30th March, 1784, there was no one at college in my time who could be at all put in competition with Mr. Hall. But it was not as a scholar alone that Mr. Hall's reputation was great at college. He was considered by all the students as a model of correct and regular deportment, of religious and moral habits, of friendly and benevolent affections." To this concise summary I subjoin the few particulars which 1 gathered from Sir James Mackintosh himself. When these two eminent men first became acquainted, Sir James was in his eighteenth year, Mr. Hall about a year older. Sir James de- scribed Mr. Hall as attracting notice by a most ingenuous and intelligent countenance, by the liveliness of his manner, and by such indications of mental activity as could not be misinterpreted. His appearance was that of health, yet not of robust health ; and he often suffered from paroxysms of pain, during which he would roll about on the carpet in the utmost agony ; but no sooner had the pain subsided than he would resume his part in conversation with as much cheerfulness and vivacity as before he had been thus interrupted. Sir James said he became attached to Mr. Hall, " because he could not help it." There wanted many of the supposed constituents of friendship. Their tastes at the commencement of their intercourse were widely different ; and upon most of the important topics of inquiry there was no congeniality of sentiment: yet notwithstanding this, the substratum of their minds seemed of the same cast, and upon this Sir James thought the edifice of their mutual regard first rested. Yet he ere long became fascinated by his brilliancy and acumen, in love with his cordiality and ardour, and "awe-struck" (I think that was the term employed) by the trans- parency of his conduct and the purity of his principles. They read together ; they sat together at lecture, if possible ; they walked together. In their joint studies they read much of Xenophon and Herodotus, and more of Plato ; and so well was all this known, exciting admiration in some, in others envy, that it was not uimsual as they went along for their class-fellows to point at them and say, " There go Plato and Hero- dotus.'''' But the arena in which they met most frequently was that of morals and metaphysics ; furnishing topics of incessant disputation. After having sharpened their weapons by reading, they often repaired to the spacious sands upon the seashore, and still more frequently to the picturesque scenery on the banks of the Don, above the Old Town, to discuss with eagerness the various subjects to which their attention had been directed. There was scarcely an important position in Ber- keley's Minute Philosopher, in Butler's Analogy, or in Edwards on the 12 MEMOIR OF ROBERT HALL. Will, over which they had not thus debated with the utmost intensity. Night after night, nay, month after month, for two sessions, they met only to study or to dispute ; yet no unkindly feeling ensued. The pro- cess seemed rather like blows in that of welding iron to knit them closer together. Sir James said, that his companion as well as himself often contended for victory, yet never, so far as he could then judge, did either make a voluntary sacrifice of truth, or stoop to draw to and fro the serraUyoiiaxiai, as is too often the case with ordinary controvertists. From these discussions, and from subsequent meditation upon them, Sir James learned more as to principles (such at least he assured me was his deliberate conviction) than from all the books he ever read. On the other hand, Mr. Hall through life reiterated his persuasion, that his friend possessed an intellect more analogous to that of Bacon than any person of modern times ; and that if he had devoted his powerful under- standing to metaphysics, instead of law and politics, he would have thrown an unusual light upon that intricate but valuable region of inquiry. Such was the cordial, reciprocal testimony of these two dis- tinguished men. And in many respects — latterly 1 hope and believe in all the most essential — it might be truly said of both " as face an- swereth to face in a glass, so does the heart of a man to his friend." It will be seen from the first of the series of letters inserted in this volume,* that, shortly after Mr. Hall's return to Aberdeen in No- vember, 1783, he received an invitation from the church at Broadmead to associate himself with Dr. Caleb Evans, as the assistant pastor ; an invitation which he accepted with nuich doubt and diffidence. After some correspondence it was arranged that Mr. Hall should reside at Bristol, in the interval (of nearly six months) between the college ses- sions of 1784 and 1785, and then return to Aberdeen to complete his course. In this important session, from the beginning of November, 1784, to May, 1785, he seems to have devoted himself most sedulously to his studies ; especially the Greek language, with moral and intel- lectual philosophy, and those other departments of inquiry which are most intimately related to theology. During the session, too, he attended Dr. Campbell's lectures at ftlarischal College, and frequently profited by the doctor's expository discourses, delivered once each fortnight ; while he generally attended public worship at the church where Mr. Abercromby and Mr. Peters, both regarded as holding cor- rect sentiments, were the alternate preachers. He had now lost his chosen companion, the sharpener of his faculties by animated yet friendly debate ; and he sought for no substitute in society, but resolved to turn the deprivation into a benefit, by a more arduous application to his literary pursuits, and by cultivating habits of meditation. " I now,'' said he, in a letter to his father, "find retirement prodigiously sweet, and here I am entirely uninterrupted and left to my own thoughts." In this disposition he commenced and concluded the session. By the time Mr. Hall had thus completed his academical course, his mental powers, originally strong, had attained an extraordinary vigour ; and with the exception of the Hebrew language, of which he then knew nothing, he had become rich in literary, intellectual, and biblical acqui- sition. On resuming his labours at Broadmead, in conjunction with Dr. Evans, his preaching excited an unusual attention, the place of wor- ship was often crowded to excess, and many of the most distinguished men in Bristol, including severiil clergymen, were among his occasional auditors. » See p. 207. SETTLED AT BRISTOL. 13 This popularity not only continued, but increased, until he removed to another sphere of action. The brilliancy and force of his eloquence were universally acknowledged ; while, in private life, his instructive and fascinating conversation drew equal admiration. Yet it ought not to be concealed (for I simply announce his own deliberate conviction, frequently expressed in after-life) that at this time he was very inade- quately qualified for the duties of a minister of the gospel. He had, it is true, firmly embraced and cordially relied upon those fundamental truths which ;ire comprehended in the declaration, — " He that cometh unto God must believe that He js, and that He is the reu-ardcr of them that diligently seek him ;" and he often expatiated, with much origin- ality and beauty, upon the Divine attributes, and constantly exhorted men to adhere closely to the path of duty ; yet, not often from the higher, namely, the evangelical motives, to pure, and benevolent, and holy conduct. His knowledge of Christianity, as a system of restora- tion and reconciliation, was comparatively defective and obscure ; and he felt but Uttle alive to those peculiarities of the new dispensation, upon which, in maturer life, he loved to dwell. In his preaching he dealt too much in generalities, or enlarged upon topics which, though in a certain sense noble and inspiring, and thus calculated to elevate the mind, did not immediately flow from the great scheme of redemp- tion, which it was his especial office to disclose. The extent of God's matchless love and mercy — the depth of the mystery of his designs — the inexhaustible treasury of his blessings and graces — the wonderful benefits flowing from the incarnation, humiliation, and sacrifice of the Son of God — the delightful privileges of the saints — were themes to which he recurred far less frequently than in later days ; and he per- suaded himself that this was not very wrong, because his colleague, Dr. Evans, who had " the care of the church," adverted so incessantly to the doctrines of our Lord's Divinity and atonement, of spiritual influ- ence and regeneration, as to leave room for him to explore other regions of instruction and interest. It is possible that Mr. Hall, from his habit of self-depreciation, may have a little overcharged this picture : yet the notes of several of his sermons, preached from 1785 to 1789, taken down by one of the con- gregation, and which are now in my possession, confirm, to a consider- able extent, the existence of the serious defect which he subsequently so much deplored. Considering his early age, twenty-one, it was manifestly unfavour- able to the correct development of his character as a preacher, that in August, 1785, only three months after his quitting Aberdeen, he was appointed classical tutor in the Bristol Academy, on the resignation of Mr. Newton. That additional appointment he held for more than five years, and discharged its duties with marked zeal and activity, and with commensurate success. At this period of his life he was celebrated as a satirist, and would overwhelm such of his associates as tempted him to the use of those formidable weapons with wit and raillery, not always playful. Aware, however, that this propensity was calcu- lated to render him unamiable, and to give permanent pain to others (a result which the generosity of his disposition made him anxious to avoid), he endeavoured to impose a restraint upon himself, by writing the essay on the " Character of Cleander ;"* in which he exposes, with just severity, that species of sarcasm to which he believed himself most prone ; and thus, by its publication, gave to others the opportunity, when he slid into this practice, of reproving him in his own language. * See vol. U p. 343. 14 MEMOIR OF ROBERT HALL. It seems to have been remarkably, and doubtless mercifully, over- ruled, that during this period of Mr. Hall's history, though his more judicious and wise friends were often grieved by the free and daring speculations which he advanced in private, he never promulgated direct and positive error from the pulpit. And thus they who were filled with apprehension on account of sallies in conversation would listen with delight to his public addresses. This will be evinced by a few extracts from the journals of two of his constant friends. Mr. Fuller writes, " 1784, May 7. Heard Mr. Robert Hall, jun., from 'He that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow.' Felt very solemn in hearing some parts. — The Lord keep that young man !" Again, " 1785, June 14. Taken up with the company of Mr. Robert Hall, jun.; feel much pain for him. The Lord, in mercy to him and his churches in this country, keep him in the path of truth and righteousness." In like manner. Dr. Ryland : "June 8, 1785. Robert Hall, jun., preached wonderfully from Rom. viii. 18, ' For I reckon that the sufferings of the present time are not worthy to be compared to the glory that shall be revealed in us.' I admire many things in this young man exceedingly, though there are others that make me fear for him. 0 that the Lord may keep him humble, and make him prudent !" Again, " June 15. Rode to Clipstone to attend the ministers' meeting. R. Hall, jun., preached a glorious sermon, on the immutability of God, from James i. 17, ' The Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, nor shadow of turning.' " Again, " 1786, June 13. Sent ofl' a letter to Robert Hall, jun., which I wrote chiefly in answer to one of his some months ago, wherein he replied to mine con- cerning some disagreeable reports from Birmingham : added some new hints respecting another matter lately reported. O that God may keep that young man in the way of truth and holiness." It hence appears, that Dr. Ryland, who was nearly tw^elve years older than Mr. Hall, and had known him from his childhood, did not rest satis- fied with silent lamentations. This excellent man, fearing that his young friend was about to precipitate himself into a very dangerous course, sought by kind but strong expostulation to rescue him from the peril ; and thus addressed him : — " My very dear Friend, " The fullest consciousness that I have a right to call you so, as really feeling an earnest and tender concern for your welfare, and the recollection that you apparently allowed it when I last saw you, encourages me to write to you ; though I may as well tell you at once that I am going to write to you in the same strain of complaint and censure which I have been constrained to use before. And indeed my fears and grief were never excited to such a degree concerning you as they now arc. I still hope, however, you have much love to God ; and I trust so much conviction of my sincere friendship, that you will not say of me as one said of Micaiah, ' I hate him, for he is always saying evil of me.' Indeed, the things that grieve me I shall industriously conceal from everybody as long as I can ; but I fear they will spread fast enough : for if you openly utter all your mind, there are not many who will mourn in secret over the report. " It gave me extreme uneasiness to hear, this week, of the general disgust you had given to your former friends at Birmingham, on your last visit. Verily I wish that neither you, nor I, nor others may fight for the truth with infernal weapons. I would wish to feel in my inmost soul the trnderest pity for the most erroneous men in the world, and to show all proper respect to men of science, and men who are regular in their outward conduct. Nor should I at all approve of violent or harsh language, or like to speak my opinion of the state of individuals. But at the same time, I cannot but think that the lusts of the 7nind may as effectually ruin a man as ' the lusts of the JhshJ' And I must get a good way towards Socinianism myself before I have any strong hope that a Socinian, living and dying AT BRISTOL. 15 such, will see the kingdom of God. When the merciful Jesus declared, ' He that beiieveth shall be saved,' &c., I cannot believe that he meant simply, that he shall be saved who believes that Jesus xms not an impostor, and who believes the doc- trine of the resurrection. But these two articles are, I believe, the whole of Dr. Priestley's Christianity, and if once I were to think this Christianity enough to carry a man to heaven', I should not, I fear, be very strenuous in my endeavours to convince men of the danger of self-righteousness, and the necessity of a reliance on the atonement. Oh ! my dear friend, can I conceive that your mind was deeply impressed with a sense of the divine purity and the justice of God's law, when you could utter so vain and vile a speech as this ?" The doctor then cites the language imputed to Mr. Hall. It implied, that if he were the Judge of all, he could not condemn Dr. Priestley. After animadverting strongly upon the phrase which he understood was actually employed, he proceeds thus : — " It is, I am sure, not malevolence, but sincere love, that makes me jealous of you. May the Lord keep you. I wish you would look over afresh the Epistle to the Galatians, and examine whether your charity is as chaste as Paul's. I allude to a proverb you have doubtless heard — ' Charity is an angel while she rejoiceth in the truth, a harlot when she rejoiceth in iniquity ;' embracing those whom she should rather pity and weep over. "Study to enter into the very spirit of Paul's discourse, 1 Cor. i. 18-31, or Gal. ii. 15-21 ; and if this is consistent with supposing it would be unfair for God to punish any man for rejecting the gospel, who understood chymistry and philosophy, why, then retain your favourable opinion of the safety of Socinians. " Receive this as a proof of the affection with which I am "Your faithful friend, "J. Ryland." Many high-spirited young men, we can readily imagine, would have treated such a letter as this with contempt ; while others would have replied to it in a lofty tone of surprise and indignation. But Dr. Ry- laud's young friend, notwithstanding the errors into wliich his impetu- osity had hurried him, had too much generosity to regard as insulting what he knew was dictated by affection ; and therefore, anxious to show that he could bear reproof, and be thankful for it, he promptly replied : "My dear Friend, " I have just received your letter, and think it of so much importance as to deserve an immediate answer. Accordingly, without the least delay, I have set myself to reply to it. I am exceedingly obliged to you for your friendly expostula- tion, because I know it is the effusion of a pious and benevolent heart that wishes me well. With respect to the conversation at Birmmgham, to which you allude, I shall conceal nothing." He then, at the same time that he denies the precise language that was imputed to him, states what he did really say ; and aims to justify the sentiment which he had maintained : disclaiming, however, any ap- proximation to Socinian doctrine. " You seem to suspect I am far gone in Socinianism ; but in this, my dear friend, give me leave to say, you are utterly mistaken. Since I first began to reflect, I do not recollect a time when I was less inclined to Socinianism than at present. I can truly say, it would remove from me all my salvation and all my desire." Again reverting to the expression employed, he adds, " Allowing it to be improper, or too strong, I can only say, it does not belong to all to speak equally temperately ; that the crime of expression can only be judged from the feelings, and that I am certain I did not utter it with any lightness of heart, but with deep feelings of earnestness and sincerity. Your charge of 16 MEMOIR OF ROBERT HALL. imprudence I cordially admit; and now see, with more clearness than I formerly did, that the imprudent should never come into company vvith the malicious. " I had more to say ; but have no room. I sincerely thank you for your letter, and shall always be extremely grateful for your correspondence, your good wishes, and your prayers. " Believe me, as ever, affectionately yours, " R. Hall, junior." These letters would not have been inserted after the lapse of fifty years, but for the salutary lesson which they supply. If Christian friendship always manifested itself in such fidelity as is here evinced, and uniformly experienced so kind and ingenuous a reception, what a different aspect, in a few years, would the Christian world assume ! When Mr. Hall was about twenty-three years of age, he had an op- portunity of hearing Mr. Robinson, his predecessor at Cambridge, preach ; and was so fascinated with his manner as to resolve to imitate it. But, after a few trials, he relinquished the attempt. The circum- stance being afterward alluded to, he observed, "Why, sir, I was too proud to remain an imitator. After my second trial, as I was walking home, I heard one of the congregation say to another, ' Really, Mr. Hall did remind us of Mr. Robinson !' That, sir, was a knock-down blow to my vanity ; and I at once resolved that if ever I did acquire reputation, it should be my own reputation, belonging to my own char- acter, and not be that of a likeness. Besides, sir,* if I had not been a foolish young man, I should liave seen how ridiculous it was to imitate such a preacher as Mr. Robinson. He had a musical voice, and was master of all its intonations ; he had wonderful self-possession, and could say what he pleased, ichen he pleased, and hoio he pleased ; while my voice and manner were naturally bad ; and far from having self-com- mand, I never entered the pulpit without omitting to say something that I wished to say, and sa3dng something that I wished unsaid : and besides all this, I ought to have known that ibr me to speak slow was ruin.'''' " Why so 1" — "I wonder that you, a student of philosophy, should ask such a question. You know, sir, that force, or momentum, is conjointly as the body and velocity ; therefore, as my voice is feeble, what is wanted in body must be made up in velocity, or there will not be, cannot be any impression." This remark, though thrown off hastily, in unreserved conversation, presents the theory of one important cause of the success of his rapid eloquence. Shortly after this, Mr. Hall was, for the first time, in Mr. Robinson's society ; 1 believe in London. Mr. Robinson was affluent in flatteries for those who worsliipped him, Avhile Mr. Hall neither courted flattery nor scattered its incense upon others. In speaking of the Socinian controversy, the elder indulged in sarcasm upon "juvenile defenders of the faith," and made various efforts to " set tlie young man down," which tempted Mr. Hall to reply that " if he ever rode into the field of public controversy, lie should not borrow Dr. Abbadie's boots.'''' This enig- matical retortf Mr. Robinson understood, and probably ./W/ more than Mr. Hall had anticipated ; for he had about that time quitted the field, put off " the boots," and passed to the verge of Socinianism. In the course of some discussions that followed, Mr. Hall, as most of those * Mr. Hall very frequently repeated the word sir in his conversation, esiiecially if lie became animated. t The allusion was to the defence of the Divinity of our Lor delineated, and made the basis of some useful practical retleciions. Whenever the subject would fairly allow it, these rellections had an appropriate bearing upon the duties, the trials, and perplexities of persons in hum- ble life. The sermon on "John fulfilled his course," inserted in the present volume, is very analo- gous m its character to the discourses to which I here refer ; but its commencement is more elaborate. AT CAMBRIDGE. 39 It would be highly instructive and gratifying to know by what process so finished a preacher, so exquisite and tasteful a writer, as Mr. Hall, prepared his respective compositions for the pulpit and the press. But the reluctance with which he spoke either of himself or of his occupa- tions, deprives us of much of this desirable information. At the time when our intercourse was most frequent and unrestramed, I have often been with him while he was preparing for the pulpit, and have occasion- ally venuired to ask him a few questions ; his answers, always frank and elucidatory, however concise, enabled me, by means also of frequent reference to his notes on different sermons which I heard dehvered, to form tolerably satisfactory conjectures as to the course pursued. He then stated, as he since has to different friends, that he never proceeded even to think of adopting a specific text, as fitted for a sermon, until the matter it presented stood out in the form of a particular, distinct, and precise topic ; he could then take it up and lay it down as he plea&ed. Of his extraordinary power of abstraction I have already spoken.* By its means he could, at pleasure, insulate, nay in a man- ner enclose himself, from every thing around him; and thus pursue his mental operations. It was usual with him to have five or six sub- jects under simultaneous training ; to either of which he could direct his attention as inclination or necessity required. The grand divisions of thought, the heads of a sermon, for example, he would trace out with the most prominent lines of demarcation ; and these for some years supplied all the hints that he needed in the pulpit, except on extraordi- nary occasions.! To these grand divisions he referred, and upon them suspended all the subordinate trains of thought. The latter, again, ap- pear to have been of two classes altogether distinct ; outline trains of thought, and trains into which much of the detail was interwoven. In the outline train, the whole plan was carried out and completed as to the argument : in that of detail, the illustrations, images, and subordinate proofs were selected and classified ; and in those instances where the force of an argument, or the probable success of a general application, would mainly depend upon the language, even that was selected and appropriated, sometimes to the precise collocation of the words. Of some sermons, no portions whatever were wrought out thus minutely ; the language employed in preaching being that which spontaneously occurred at the time ; of others, this minute attention was paid to the verbal structure of nearly half: of a few, the entire train of preparation, almost from the beginning to the end, extended to the very sentences. Yet the marked peculiarity consisted in this, that the process, even when thus directed to minutiae in his more elaborate efforts, did not require the use of the pen ; at least at the time to which these remarks principally apply. J For Mr. Hall had a singular faculty for continuous mental composition, apart from the aid which writing supplies. Words were so disciplined to his use, that the more he thought on any subject the more closely were the topics of thought associated with appropriate terms and phrases ; and it was manifest that he had carefully disci- * See vol. i. p. 21. t As an ex.iniple, both of a comprehensive miniature outline, and of provision in the notes for accurate expression, where he wished to state with clearness and precision his theological sentiments on a most momentous point, see Mr. Hall's own analysis of the sermon on John i. 33, 36, at p. 429 of this volume, and the language actually employed in the sermon itself, p. 438. t Mr. Hall, doubtless, varied his manner of preparation in different periods. For three or four years atler his settlement at Leicester, he wrote down nearly a third of the sermon, and left all the rest to flow from the outline plan while he was preaching. But for some years afterward he seldom allowed his notes to exceed two pages, and is thought to have indulged himself more than at any other period of his life in entirely extemporaneous eloquence. At that time his sennons were espe- cially distinguished by simplicity and pathos. 40 MEMOIR OF ROBERT HALL. plined his mind to this as an independent exercise, probably to avoid the pain and fatigue which always attended the process of writing. Whenever he pleased, he could thus pursue the consecution to a great extent, in sentences, many of them perfectly formed and elaborately finished, as he went along, and easily called up again by memory, as occasion required ; not, however, in their separate character, as elements of language, but because of their being fully worked into the substance of thought. It hence happened that the excellence which other persons often attain as to style, from the use of the pen, in written, visible com- position (employing the eye upon words, instead of fixing the memory up(jn substantial mental product, and, it may be, diminishing the intel- lectual power by substituting for one of its faculties a mechanical result), he more successfully and uniformly obtained by a purely medita- tive process. And I am persuaded that if he could have instantly im- pressed his trains of thought upon paper, with the incorporated words, and with the living spirit in which they were conceived, hundreds if not thousands of passages would have been preserved, as chaste and pol- ished in diction, as elastic and energetic in tone, as can be selected from any part of his works. What, however, could not thus be accomplished by the pen has been achieved, as to immediate impression, in the pul- pit ; and hence his celebrity, unequalled, in modern times, as a sacred orator. In preparing for the press the process was in many respects essen- tiahy different. There was, from the outset, a struggle to overcome the reluctance to write, arising from the anticipation of increased pain, which he knew must be endured so long as he was engaged in the mechanical act ; and at every return to the labour he had a new reluc- tance to surmount. There was, moreover, the constant effort to restrain a mind naturally active, ardent, and rapid in all its movements, to a slow progression ; nay, a further effort, and, to a mind so constituted, a very irksome one, to bring the thoughts back from the ultimate issue to which they were incessantly hastening, and cause them to pass and repass, again and again, by a comparatively sluggish course, the suc- cessive links in a long chain. Nor was this all. He had formed for himself, as a writer, an ideal standard of excellence which could not be reached :* his perception of beauty in composition was so delicate and refined, that in regard to his own productions it engendered perhaps a fastidious taste ; and, deep and prevailing as was his humility, he was not insensible to the value of a high reputation, and therefore cautiously guarded against the risk of diminishing his usefulness among certain classes of readers, by consigning any production to the world that had not been thoroughly subjected to the labor limce. Hence the extreme slowness with which he composed for the press ; writing, improving, rejecting the improvement ; seeking another, rejecting it ; recasting whole sentences and pages ; often recurring precisely to the original phraseology ; and still oftener repenting, when it was too late, that he had not done so. All this he lamented as a serious defect, declaring that he gave, in his own view, to his written compositions, an air of gtiflfness and formality, which deprived him of all complacency in them. And I caimot but think that, notwithstanding the exquisite harmony and beauty which cliaracterize every thing that he has published, they were even, in point of felicity of diction, and the majestic current and force of language, inferior to the " winged words" that escaped from his lips, »vhen " his soul was enlarged"' in the discharge of ministerial duty. * " I om tornicnicJ with ilie desire of writing better than I can."— P. 340. AT CAMBRIDGE. 41 May we not suggest a probable reason for this, by observing that when Mr. Hall stood forth as the minister of the sanctuary, he placed the fire upon the altar in the humble confidence that it would be kept alive by the communication of grace and spirit from on high ; but that, when he came before the public as an author, he sometimes extin- guished his own flame, pure and ethereal as it notwithstanding was, in his efforts to ornament the vase in which he held it up to view.* But I must not dwell longer on these topics. In the beginning of the year 1799, Mr. Hall had the happiness of renewing personal intercourse with his early friend. Mr. (afterward Sir James) Mackintosh, being about to deliver a course of lectures on the Law of Nature and Nations, in Lincoln's Inn Hall, deemed it expe- dient, for the completion of some of the extensive researches which that important undertaking required, to reside for a few months at Cambridge, that he might consult the more valuable of the college libraries, as well as the public library belonging to the university gene- rally. Another distinguished individual, the late Dr. Samuel Parr, spent several weeks at Cambridge at the same time, for the purpose of visit- ing some of his old friends, of associating with Mr. Mackintosh, and of becoming personally acquainted with Mr. Hall, whose character he had long known and highly valued. Mr. Hall, pleased to refresh his spirits in the society of his beloved fellow-student, and by no means unwilling to glean something from the stores of so profound a scholar as Dr. Parr, often spent his evenings with these two eminent men, and a few members of the university, who were invited to their select par- ties, and with whom, from that time, he cultivated an intimacy. This circumstance led to the formation of Mr. Hall's most inveterate habit, — that of smoking. Previously to this period, he had always censured the practice in the strongest terms ; but, on associating with Dr. Parr, his aversion to what he used to denominate " an odious cus- tom," soon passed away. The doctor was always enveloped in a dense cloud of smoke from sunrise until midnight ; and no person could remain in his company long without great inconvenience, unless he learned to smoke in self-defence. Mr. Hall, therefore, made the attempt, and quickly overcame every obstacle. I well recollect entering his apartment just as he had acquired this happy art ; and, seeing him sit at ease, the smoke rising above his head in lurid, spiral volumes, he inhaling and apparently enjoying its fragrance, I could not suppress my astonishment. " O, sir," said he, " I am only qualifying myself for the society of a doctor of divinity ; and this," holding up the pipe, " is my test of admission." Mr. Hall's Cambridge friends were divided in their feelings and wishes with regard to this new practice. The majority approved it, from a belief that the narcotic influence of tobacco would mitigate the pain which he had so long endured. Others, apprehending that his habit of converting every thing into a source of enjoyment would trans- form him into an unremitting smoker, and that injury to his health would ensue, ventured to expostulate with him. I belonged to the latter class, and put into his hands Dr. Adam Clarke's pamphlet on " The Use and Abuse of Tobacco," with a request that he would read it. In a few days he returned it, and at once, as if to preclude discus- sion, said, " Thank you, sir, for Adam Clarke's pamphlet. I can't refute his arguments, and I can't give up smoking." * That Mr. Hall did not always require much time for the production of elegant and spirited writing, interspersed with passajjes of remarkable beauty, and of the most elaborate polish, is plaitl from his two earliest publications, both composed currente calamo, and each yielding as powerful and finished spucunens of style and thought as can be drawn from lue works. 42 MEMOIR OF ROBERT HALL. We now approach the time when Mr. Hall acquired a signal exten- sion of celebrity. Many who had hailed the French Revolution of 1789 as an event productive of extensive benefit, were compelled to admit, after a few years, tliat the great leaders in that revolution, and still more their followers, committed grievous blunders, and grosser crimes, from the want of higher than political principles to control their actions. Yet, in the false security which some felt, and others insidiously aimed to inspire, it was suspected by but few that much of our periodical literature had, under the plea of encouraging free discus- sion, become irreligious in its tendency, and that various unprincipled demagogues in London and the large manufacturing towns, not only held up to admiration the conduct of the detestable actors in " the reign of terror," but were constantly exerting themselves to disseminate democracy and atheism conjointly. Such, however, was the fact. From 1795 to 1799, debating rooms were opened in various parts of the metropolis, in which the most barefaced infidelity was taught, and to which the lower classes were invited, often on Sunday evenings, by a variety of specious allurements. Mr. Hall was no sooner aware of the existence of these sources of evil, and of the mischief they produced, than he began -to use the voice of warning, in his private intercourse among his people, and to impress upon such of the young as he feared had received a skeptical bias, that of all fanaticism the fanaticism of infidelity then prevalent was at once the most preposterous and the most destructive. Mr. Hall's persuasion of the continuance and growth of this infidel spirit induced him to preach and publish his celebrated sermon on " Modern Infidelity ;" which was not, therefore, as many affirmed, a hasty production, written under excited feelings and false alarms, but the deliberate result of a confirmed belief that the most strenuous efforts were required to repel mischief so awfully and insidiously diffused. Before the publication of this sermon, its author had fully " counted the cost" as to the obloquy which it would bring upon him from various quarters ; but he did not at all anticipate its extraordinary success, and the corresponding extension of his reputation. As repeated editions were called for, he yielded his assent with great hesitation, from a fear that the copies would remain unsold ; and he was the last to see, what every one else perceived, that it had carried his celebrity as a profound thinker and eloquent writer far beyond the limits of the denomination to which he was so bright an ornament. Immediately after this sermon issued from the press, the consistency and integrity of the author were vehemently attacked in several letters which appeared in the " Cambridge Intelligencer," then a popular and widely circulated newspaper. Its editor, Mr. Flower, had received in an ill spirit Mr. Hall's advice that he would repress the violent tone of his political disquisitions, and had, from other causes which need not now be developed, become much disposed to misinterpret his motives and depreciate his character. He therefore managed to keep alive the controversy for some months, occasionally aiding, by his own remarks, those of his correspondents who opposed Mr. Hall, and as often casting illiberal insinuations upon the individual who had stepped forward in defence of the sermon and its author. A few months after this discussion subsided, Mr. Flower, who had been summoned before the House of Lords, and imprisoned in Newgate for a libel on Bishop Watson, published an exculpiitory pamphlet ; in which, with a view to draw the attention of the public as speedUy as possible from his own unmanly and dismgenuous conduct, while at the bar of the House, he AT CAMBRIDGE. 43 soon passed from his personal defence to a virulent attack upon Mr. Hall, his former pastor. Shortly afterward, another controvertist, a Mr. Anthony Robinson, unwilling that Mr. Flower and his coadjutors should gather all the laurels in so noble a conflict, hastened into the field ; and, it must be admitted, left them far behind. He published, in a pamphlet of more than sixty pages, " An Examination" of Mr. Hall's Sermon. He did not bring against the preacher the positive charge of apostacy, having discrimination enough to see that it was one thing to refer the atroci- ties of th^ reign of terror to the pohtical principles of the perpetrators, and quite another to ascribe them to tlieir avowed and unblushing atheism. But the crimes that he imputed to Mr. Hall were, that he was " an imitator of Mr. Burke," that he was " fierce and even savage in expression," that his " charges against atheism are unfounded," and that he taught " that it was excusable, if not meritorious, to punish men for errors in religious opinions !" For himself, he maintained, that " all men are essentially alike in moral conduct ;" that the sum of all the morality of religionists is, " do good unto the household of faith, and to them only ; kill, plunder, calumniate the heretics ;" that " all public religions are opposed to all private morality ;" that " atheism, on the contrary, tends but little to alter our moral sentiments ;" and that " all religions except the belief tliat rewards are to be conferred upon the beneficent, and for that service exclusively, are not merely as bad, but infinitely worse than any kind or degree of skepticism ;" because " atheism leaves every human present motive m full force, while every religion or mode of faith different from what is above expressed changes the name and the nature of morality, saps the foundations of all benevolence, and introduces malice, hostility and murder, under the pretext of love to God." This being a fair specimen of the shameless impiety with which the press then teemed, we need not wonder at the applauses bestowed upon Mr. Hall for advancing with such singular talent and ability to stem the torrent. With the exception of a few letters from private friends, who dis- approved of his denominating the Roman Catholic clergy " the Chris- tian priesthood," every communication he received was highly gratify- ing, especially as it did justice to his motives. The most distinguished members of the university were loud in his praises : numerous pas- sages in the sermon, which were profound in reasoning, or touching and beautiful in expression, were read and eulogized in every college and almost every company ; and the whole composition was recom- mended in the charges and sermons of the dignified and other clergy in terms of the warmest praise. The " Monthly Review" (then the lead- ing critical journal), the " British Critic" (at that time under the able superintendence of Dr. Nares), and other Reviews, gave to the sermon the highest commendation. Kett in his " Elements of General Know- ledge," William Belsham in his " History of Great Britain," Dr. Parr in the notes to his celebrated " Spital Sermon," and many others, were profuse in their expressions of panegyric. From that time Mr. Hall's reputation was placed upon an eminence which it will probably retain as long as purity and elevation of style, deeply philosophical views of the springs and motives of action, and correct theological sentiments are duly appreciated in the world.* * That the reader may be put in possession of what was most interesting in the panegyrical notices to which 1 have above alluded, I shall insert the substance of two reviews written by Sir James Mackmtosh, and of the often-cited note of Dr. Parr, neither of which is now easily attain- able, in a note at tlie end of this Memoir. See Note B, Appendi.x. 44 MEMOIR OF ROBERT HALL. Of the letters received by Mr. Hall on this occasion, the following from the pen of his friend Mackintosh has escaped the ravages of time. " Serle-street, LincoliVs /n«, " Dear Hall, " 2fi March, ibou. " From the enclosed letter, you will see the opinion which the Bishop of Lon- don* has formed of your sermon, and you will observe that he does some justice to your merit. Mr. Archdeacon Eaton, to whom the letter was written, has allowed me to send it to you ; and I thought it might not be disagreeable to you to have it, as the opinion of a man, not indeed of very vigorous understanding, but an elegant writer, a man of taste and virtue, not to mention his high station in the church. " I last night had a conversation about the sermon with a man of much greater talents, at a place where theological, or even literary discussions are seldom heard. It was with Mr. Windham, at the Duchess of GordoTi's rout. I asked him whether he had read it. He told me that he had, that he recommended it to every- body ; and, among others, on that very day, to the new Bishop of Bangor,! who had dined with him. He said that he was exceedingly struck with the style, but still more with the matter. He particularly praised the passage on vanity as an admirable commentary on Mr. Burke's observations on vanity in his character of Rousseau. He did not like it the worse, he said, for being taken from the source of all good, as he considered Mr. Burke's works to be. He thought, how- over, that you had carried your attack on vanity rather too far. He had recom- mended the sermon to Lord Grenville, who seemed skeptical about any thing good coming from the pastor of a Baptist congregation, especially at Cambridge. " This, you see, is the unhappy impression which Priestley has made, and which, if you proceed as you have so nobly begun, you will assuredly efface. But you will never do all the good which it is in your power to do, unless you assert your own importance, and call to mind that, as the dissenters have no man com- parable to you, it is your province to guide them, and not to be guided by their ignorance and bigotry. I am almost sorry you thought any apology due to those senseless bigots who blamed you for compassion [towards] the clergy of France,t as innocent sufferers and as martyrs of the Christian faith during the most bar- barous persecution that has fallen upon Christianity, perhaps since its origin, but certainly since its establishment by Constantine. ****** *******I own I thought well of Horsley when I found him, in his charge, call these unhappy men ' our Christian brethren :' the bishops and clergy of the persecuted church of France ! This is the language of truth. This is the spirit of Christianity. " I met with a combination in Ovid, the other day, which would have suited your sermon. Speaking of the human descendants of the giants, he says — ' Sed et ilia propago Contemptrix superi'im, sievicque avidissima caedis El violenta fuit. Scires e sanguine nolos.' — Met. I. 160. " The union of ferocity with irreligion is agreeable to your reasoning. "I am going to send copies of my third edition^ to Paley and Watson, to Fox and the lord-chancellor.ll I should like to send copies of your sermon with them. If you will direct six copies to be sent here, I shall distribute them in such a manner as will, 1 think, not be hurtful. On the publication of Dr. Parr's " Spilal .Sermon," I took a copy of it to Mr. Hall : and sat down at tiis table while he hastily turned ov<;t the leaves. He was greatly amused by ihe cur.sory exanni- nation, but had evidenlly no expectation that any of the notes referred to himself. "What a pro- fusion of Greek, sir 1 Why, if I were to write so, they would call me a pedant ; but It is all natural in I'arr." " What a strange medley, sir. The gownsmen will call him Farrago Varr." At length 1 saw his eye glance upon the notes which relate to himself His countenance underwent the most rapid changes, indicating surprise, regret, and pity ; m a few minutes he threw down the book, and exclaimed, " Poor man '. poor man 1 I am very sorry for him I He is certainly insane, sir ! Where were Ins friends, sir ] Was there nobody to sifl the folly out of his notes, and prevent its publication ? Poor man '." * Ur. Porieus. This enclosure is not now extant. t Dr. Cleaver, } Sec vol. i. p. 57. \ Of ihc Discourse on the Studv of the Law of Nature and Nations. I TheEarlofRosslyn. AT CAMBRIDGE. 45 •'Mrs. Mackintosh joins me in the most kind and respectful remembrance. Believe me ever, " Dear Hall, " Your affectionate friend, " James Mackintosh." Mr. Mackintosh continued to evince both the steadiness of his friend- ship for Mr. Hall, and the high value which he set upon this sermon, by frequently quoting it, and applying it to the elucidation of the lec- tures which he was then delivering in Lincoln's Inn. Several of his auditors were, in consequence, induced sometimes to spend their Sun- days at Cambridge, that they might listen to the pulpit instructions of the individual of whom they had heard so much. Many also of the members of the university, including not merely under-graduates, but college-fellows and tutors, were often seen at the Baptist place of wor- ship. These sometimes amounted to fifty or sixty : and a few of them attended so constantly upon the afternoon services that they became almost regarded as regular hearers. Among the latter, some have since become distinguished men, and occupy important stations either in the church or in the public service, as statesmen or senators. The attendance of so many university students upon the services of a dissenting minister at length began to excite alarm among the " heads of houses ;" of whom a meeting was summoned, to consider the expediency .of interposing some authoritative measure to prevent this irregularity. But Dr. Mansel, then master of the largest college, Trinity, and afterward Bishop of Bristol, " declared that he could not be a party in such a measure : he admired and revered Mr. Hall, both for his talents and for his genuine liberality ; he had ascertained that his preaching was not that of a partisan, but of an enlightened minister of Christ; and that, therefore, if he were not the master of Trinity he should certainly often attend himself; and that even now he had experienced a severe struggle before he could make up his mind to relinquish so great a benefit." Shortly after this he personally thanked Mr. Hall, not only for his sermon, but for his general efl"orts in the Christian cause ; and, through the medium of a common friend, endeavoured t» induce him to enter the established church. This, I believe, was the only direct attempt to persuade Mr. Hall to conform. None of these circumstances were permitted to draw Mr. Hall aside from his ordiiiary course. His studies, his public duties, his pastoral visits, were each assigned their natural place, as before. If there were any change, it was manifest in his increased watchfulness over himself, and, perhaps, in giving a rather more critical complexion than before to certain portions of his morning expositions, and in always concluding them with such strong practical appeals as might be suited to a con- gregation of mixed character. If I do not greatly mistake, however, his sentiments with regard to- controversy in general were considerably modified from this period. The language of the preface to his sermon on the Advantages of Union became the language of his heart and conduct ; so that he abstained from public discussions except on questions that seemed of vital im- portance, either in regard to fundamental truth, or the essential privi- leges of Christians. Having learned that one of the severest trials of human virtue is the trial of controversy, he resolv6d, on occasions when silence became inexpedient or censurable, not to repel even injustice and misrepresentation in an angry spirit. Thus when he undertook the refutation of Bishop Horsley's charge, that village 46 MEMOIR OF ROBERT HALL. preachers among Methodists and dissenters were teachers of insubor- dination and sedition, indignant as he doubtless felt at so unjust an insinuation, he opposed it in a manner as remarkable for the conciliatory spirit which it exhibits, as for the singular train of original thought and cogent argument which nms through that interesting fragment.* In little more than two years after the publication of the sermon on Modern Infidelity, Mr. Hall again appeared before the pubhc as an author. The tra^nsient peace of Amiens was celebrated by a general thanksgiving throughout England on the 1st of June, 1802. In the sermon preached by Mr. Hall on that occasion, he endeavoured first to awaken the gratitude of his auditors by a most touching picture of the horrors of war, from which Europe had just escaped ; and then to apply the gratitude so excited to acts of benevolence. I have already adverted! to Mr. Hall's reasons for preaching that sermon memoriter, without deviation, from his own written copy. I recur to it for a moment, merely to state that though it was delivered with a most impressive dignity, and with less rapidity than that to which he usually yielded himself, yet, in one or two parts, he obviously felt great diffi- culty in checking his inclination either to modify his language, or to expatiate more at large. This was especially observable at the passage commencing with " Conceive but for a moment the consternation which the approach of an invading army would impress on the peaceful vil- lages in this neighbourhood. "J He mentioned afterward, that the struggle between his desire to correct what he, just then, saw was " a confusion in the grouping," and his determination "not to deviate from his lesson" was such as rendered it almost impossible for him to proceed. To this kind of perplexity he never again exposed himself. The nation had scarcely tasted the blessings of peace, when a dis- pute on one of the articles of the treaty of Amiens involved us in a fresh war with the French. Bonaparte, then first consul, aware of the British ascendency at sea, resolved first to attack our continental dominions. He also seized on the persons and property of the nume- rous English who had visited France during the brief interval of peace, detaining them as prisoners of war ; and then menaced this country with invasion. So strange and, in some respects, so atrocious a com- mencement of hostilities had a singular effect in melting down dissen- sion, and diffusing a spirit of almost unexampled unanimity, among all ranks and classes of the community. To adopt Mr. Hall's emphatic language : " It was a struggle for existence, not for empire. It must surely be regarded as a happy circumstance that the contest did not take this shape at an earlier period, while many were deceived by certain specious pretences of liberty into a favourable opinion of our enemy's designs. The popular delusion had passed ; the most unex- ampled prodigies of guilt had dispelled it ; and, after a series of rapine and cruelty, had torn from every heart the last fibres of mistaken partiality.''''^ At this momentous period Mr. Hall's love of his country was again sig- nally evinced. On the fast day, 19th October, 1803, he preached at Bristol, where he was then on a visit, a sermon afterward pubhshed, — " The Sentiments proper to the Present Crisis," which had the happiest effect in enkindling the flame of generous, active patriotism. This sermon, perhaps, excited more general admiration than any of the author's former productions ; on account of its masterly exposure of prevailing errors, its original and philosophical defence of some momentous truths, and its remarkable appropriateness to the exigences » That on Village Preaching commenced in 1801. See vol. ii. p. 173-206. J Vol. i. p. 21. X Vol. i. p. 61. 4 See vol. i. p. 107. AT CAMBRIDGE. 47 of the crisis. The last ten pages were thought by many (and by Mr. Pitt among the number) to be fully equal in genuine eloquence to any passage of the same length that can be selected from either ancient or modern orators. They were reprinted in various periodical publica- tions, and widely circulated in every direction; and they evidently suggested some of the finest thoughts in Sir James Mackintosh's splen- did defence of Peltier, the editor of L'Ambigu, who was tried in London for a libel on Bonaparte. In an old manuscript of Mr. Hall's, containing outline notes of ser- mons preached by him in 1801, 1802, and 1803, scarcely any of them occupying more than two pages, there are inserted the first rude sketch of this valuable sermon, and, at the distance of several pages, a few hints of thoughts and sentences designed to be introduced near the close, " I. Particulars in which our notions are wrong, or ' we speak not aright,' with reg.ird to national judgments. " 1. Political speculations on the secondary causes of our calamities, exclusive of a regard to the hand of God. " 2. Wanton and indiscriminate censure of the conduct of our rulers. "We are permitted within limits to animadvert on the measures of government. " 3. A confidence in an arm of flesh. " Cursed is man, &c. " 4. A reliance on our supposed superior virtue. " 5. General lamentations on the corruptions of the age. " Right sentiments. An acknowledgment of the justice and dominion of God. " Sincere confession of our sins. Dan. ix. 8. Zech. x. 11," &c. Such was the original synopsis. The hints intended to be worked iu towards the close of the sermon are as below. " Eternal God ! (O thou,) who hast at once declared thyself the God of Peace find the Lord of Hosts, go forth with our armies, and shelter (shield) their heads in the day of battle : give them (endow them with) that undaunted courage, that from trouble which springs from a sense of thy presence. " Under thy conduct, and fighting under thy banners, we will employ .nil the resources which lie within our reach without trusting in an arm of flesh while we behold with the eye of faith, what thy prophet discerned in ancient times, the plains filled with horses of fire and chariots of fire. " There is surely not one person here who will tempt himself to by the fear of death, when he reflects that, in the failure of this great enterprise, should the crisis arrive, he must feel a thousand deaths in the extinction of religion, in the spoliation of property, in the violation of chastity, in the confusion of all orders when all that is noble or holy will be trampled upon when death would be sought with the avidity of when the enemies' triumphs will be felt in mourn freedom entombed." I have here presented the incipient germs of thought and expression, in this extraordinary production, from a persuasion that the man of research into the operations of intellect will be deeply interested on comparing them with their finished result, 'as exhibited in the first volume. On looking back upon the preceding pages, I perceive that I shall have laid myself open to the charge of dwelling too long upon that portion of Mr. Hall's life during which I also resided at Cambridge. Let me simply observe, then, that it was the portion in which his line character assumed, by the means I have been tracing, its true place in public estimation ; and that I may be forgiven if I have thus dwelt upon that bright period of my own existence in which I was open to the constant influence of association with one so pre-eminent in mental and moral excellence. Yet I am not disposed to allow the interesting 48 MEMOIR OF ROBERT HALL. memory of a lon^ friendship to interfere with biographical fidelity. 1 have spoken of Mr. Hall's richer qualities agreeably to the estimate I then formed, but with a conviction that they had not at that period reached their full maturity and vigour. I shall now advert to a few of his defects, but with an equally strong persuasion that they diminished as his age, and judgment, and piety advanced. I have already remarked that Mr. Hall was impetuous in argument. I must here add that he sometimes contended more for victory than for truth. I never knew him voluntarily take what he believed to be the wrong side of an argument, for the sake of showing how adroitly he could carry on the advocacy of any opinions which he, for the moment, took the fancy to maintain; but, if ever he precipitated him- self into the assertion of erroneous sentiment, he would strenuously defend his opinion ; and, on such occasions, would seem more pleased with perplexing and confoundmg his opponents, than with faithfully endeavouring to set either them or himself right. This habit was very much restrained, if noc altogether overcome, in the latter part of his life. Be it observed, however, that at no time did it tempt him to trifle with the sanctities of religion. Besides this yielding to the temptation of making the matter of truth and error a prize for contest, there was another thing which, in social life, depreciated the practical value of his great ability, namely, a random carelessness in throwing out opinions and estimates of subjects, books, or men. Many of those opinions were graphically correct, and highly valuable, and they were usually clothed in an aphorismatic terseness of language ; yet were too often such that plain, credulous listeners for instruction, regarding him as an oracle, would leave him with incorrect and fallacious notions of the topics on which he had spoken, and woiUd, therefore, be strangely perplexed two or three weeks afterward, on hearing, or hearing reported, contrary opinions on the same subjects stated by him subsequently, when further investigation had corrected his judgment. Sometimes, too, especially when indul- ging in panegyric, he would, even in conversation, give himself up to the feelings of the orator, and allow his fancy to escape into the ideal, sketching the picture then existing in his own tlioughts, rather than that of the individual whom he imagined himself describing. It was also much to be regretted, that when in company he did not keep habitually in view the good which his great tnleiits and high char- acter qualified liiui to impart. His conversation, though always conveying information on tlie various subjects generally brought forward in culti- vated society, did not indicate the prevailing purpose of leading the minds of others m a right direction. Or, if he entered society with this deter- mination, he frequently permitleti the circumstances; into which he was thrown to divert him from his purpose, thus giving away his admirable conversational powers to the mere casual train of topics, many of them trivial in interest. There could not but be various acute remarks, and every now and then a piece of valuable disquisition, or a most impor- tant sentiment, or an eloquent flow of striking observations ; yet there was not a systematic bearing towards positive utility. Often, indeed, has Mr. Hall lamented this defect : often, as we have been returning from a party which he had kept alive by the brilliancy and variety of his observations, has he said, "Ah! sir, I have again contributed to the loss of an evening, as to every thing truly valuable ; go home with me, that we may spend at least one hour in a manner which becomes us." It slioulil be added, however, that it was only in larger parties that this occurred. 1 never spent an evening with him alone, or vvilli the addition of one or two select companions, in which the suWimer pur- AT CAMBRIDGE. 49 poses of religious as well as intellectual intercourse were not prevail- ingly kept in view. In adverting to the deficiencies in Mr. Hall's character, I must further remark, that he did not always seem adequately alive to special modes and efforts of utility. There were times Avhen his apparent indifference must have been thought scarcely compatible with his uniform benevo- lence and piety, unless by those who were thoroughly aware that his infirmities often compelled him to avoid active exertions, except those which fell within the range of ministerial duty ; yet, at other seasons, he exerted himself so powerfully and successfully in favour of some grand object, as, in great measure, to compensate for his habitually avoiding the ordinary detail of minor operations. His defects, on whatever occasions they showed themselves, were as remote as possible from littleness, and were such as would be most naturally found in a noble character. We may hence learn, however, that a man, though far enriched above his fellows with intellectual and spiritual endowments, still manifests the frailties of a fallen being ; and that it always behooves us, therefore, with Christian discrimination, to distinguish between grace and nature, to give to God his own glory, and to refer to men their own infirmities. But I must return from this digression. During the early months of the year 1803, the pain in Mr. HalPs back increased both in intenseness and continuity, depriving him almost always of refreshing sleep, and depressing his spirits to an unusual degree. On one of his visits to Kettering and its neighbourhood, he consulted Dr. Kerr, of Northamp- ton, who recommended him to reside a few miles from Cambridge, and to have recourse to horse exercise. In consequence of this advice, he took a house at Shelford, a village about five miles from Cambridge ; and the frequent and short journeys on horseback which thus became necessary for a season seemed beneficial. Yet the advantage was not of long continuance. He missed his delightful evenings spent in the society of the intelligent classes of the congregation (of whom there was a much higher proportion than in most congregations), and he missed still more the simple, heart-refreshing remarks of the poor of his flock, whose pious converse had always been peculiarly soothing to his mind. It is true, he there enjoyed intercourse with two excellent men, both of whom he cordially esteemed — Mr. James Nutter, a valuable member of his church at Cambridge, and the Rev. Thomas Thomason, afterward one of the East India Company's chaplains at Calcutta. With these friends he sometimes spent his evenings ; and in company with the latter, who was Mr. Simeon's curate at Trinity Church, he frequently rode to Cambridge on the Sunday mornings ; these brothers in the gospel ministry, proceeding thus pleasantly, " in the unity of the Spirit," to their respective spheres of labour in the church of God. Gratifying, however, as this intercourse was, both to Mr. Hall and his valued neigh- bours, it still left him too much alone, and too much exposed to all the morbid influences of a disordered body, and of a mind overstrained. Often has he been known to sit close at his reading, or yet more intensely engaged in abstract thought, for more than twelve hours in the day ; so that, when one or both of his kind friends have called upon him, in the hope of drawing him from his solitude, they have found him in such a state of nervous ^excitement as led them to unite their efforts in persuading him to take some mild narcotic, and retire to rest. The painful result may be anticipated. This noble mind lost its equilibrium ; and he who had so long been the theme of universal admii-ation now became the subject of as extensive a sympathy. This event occurred Vol. hi.— 4 50 MEMOIR OF ROBERT HALL. in November, 1804. Mr. Hall was placed under the care of Dr. Arnold, of Leicester, whose attention, with the blessing of God, in about two months restored him both to mental and bodily health. During this afflictive suspension of his pastoral duties his church and congregation gave the most unequivocal proofs that they had caught somewhat of his generous and exalted spirit, and that they were desirous to conduce to his welfare in temporal things, in acknowledgment of the spiritual blessings he had been the means of conveying to them. They set on foot a subscription, to which themselves contributed most libe- rally, and which, by the aid of other friends, became sufficient to produce, besides a life annuity of one hundred pounds, a further sum nearly equal vested in government securities, the latter to be at his own disposal at death: each sum being properly vested in trustees.* In April, 1805, he resumed his ministerial functions at Cambridge : but, it being deemed inexpedient for him to reoccupy his house at Shelford, he engaged another at Foulmire, about nine miles from Cam- bridge. This spot, doubtless, was unwisely selected ; as his opportu- nities of social intercourse with old and intimate friends were almost entirely cut off, and he was thus left to feed more upon his own thoughts than in any preceding part of his life. The evil did not show itself in his public ministrations, which were regarded as more devout, intel- lectual, and impressive than they had ever been ; nor in any diminution of relish for works in which genius stood forth in defence of religious truth; as his exquisite critique upon Foster's Essays, written at this period, amply evinces. | Eut the evils resulting from solitude and a return of his old pain Avith more than its usual severity, ere long began to show themselves. Sleepless nights, habitual exclusion from society, a complete self-absorption, and the incessant struggle between what was due to a church and congregation which had given such signal proofs of affection for him, a>id what he felt to be necessary for his own preservation, a speedy removal from air and scenery that more and more impaired his health and oppressed his spirits : these, at about twelve months after his former attack at Shelford, produced a recur- rence of the same malady, which again laid him aside from public duty. He soon, however, recovered the complete balance of his mental powers, under the judicious care of the late Dr. Cox, of Fish Ponds, near Bristol. It was regarded as essential to the permanent possession of mental health and vigour, that he should resign the pastoral office at Cambridge, that he should, for a year, at least, seek retirement in a spot selected and cordially approved by himself, abstain from preaching, and, as far as possible, avoid all strong excitement. Pursuant to tliis advice, he sent in his letter of resignation, which with that from the church in reply, is inserted in the present volume. J Thus terminated a connexion which had subsisted for fifteen years, and had been of great benefit to Mr. Hall's character; while, by the Divine blessing upon his labours, it had transformed a society that was rapidly sinking under the influence of cold or disputatious specu- lators, into a llourishing church and congregation, " bringing forth the fruits of righteousness," and shining in the lustre of a consistent Christian profession. It is pleasing to remark that the attachjuenl on both sides remained undiminished until Mr. Hall's death. On recovering from this attack, he received a letter from his old friend Sir James Mackintosh, then Recorder of Bombay, which was written soon after Sir James had heard of his first indisposition. It is highly * See, also, the note to p. 227. t See vol. ii. p. 233-248. t See p. 226-228. AT CAMBRIDGE. 51 interesting, both as a memorial of genuine friendship, and as a beautiful exhibition of elevated and delicate sentiment. My insertion of it will not, however, be regarded as a proof that I entirely adopt the theory which the writer so elegantly sketched. " My dear Hall, "Bombay, Sept. 21, 1805. " I believe that in the hurry of leaving England, I did not answer the letter which you wrote to me in December, 1803. I did not, however, forget your inter- esting young friend, from whom I have had one letter from Constantinople, and to whotn I have twice written at Cairo, where he now is. No request of yours could, indeed, be lightly esteemed by me. " It happened to me a few days ago, in drawing up (merely for my own use) a short sketch of my life, that I had occasion to give a faithful statement of my recollection of the circumstances of my first acquaintance with you. On the most impartial survey of my early life, I could see nothing which tended so much to excite and invigorate my understanding, and to direct it towards high, though, perhaps, scarcely accessible objects, as my intimacy with you. Five-and-twenty years are now past since we first met ; yet hardly any thing has occurred since which has left a deeper or more agreeable impression on ray mind. I now remem- ber the extraordinary union of brilliant fancy with acute intellect, which would have excited more admiration than it has done, if it had been dedicated to the amuse- ment of the great and the learned, instead of being consecrated to the far more noble office of consoling, instructing, and reforming the poor and the forgotten. " It was then too early for me to discover that extreme purity, which in a mind preoccupied with the low realities of life, would have been no natural companion of so much activity and ardour, but which thoroughly detached you from the world, and made you the inhabitant of regions where alone it is possible to be always active without impurity, and where the ardour of your sensibility had unbounded scope amid the inexhaustible combinations of beauty and excellence. " It is not given to us to preserve an exact medium. Nothing is so difficult as to decide how much ideal models ought to be combined with experience ; how much of the future should be let into the present, in the progress of the human mind. To ennoble and purify, without raising us above the sphere of our useful- ness,— to qualify us for what we ought to seek, without unfitting us for that to which we must submit, — are great and difficult problems, which can be but imper- fectly solved. " It is certain the child may he too manly, not only for his present enjoyments, but for his future prospects. Perhaps, my good friend, you have fallen into this error of superior natures. From this error has, I think, arisen that calamity with which it has pleased Providence to visit you, which to a mind less fortified by reason and religion I should not dare to mention, but which I really consider in you as little more than the indignant struggles of a pure mind with the low realities which surround it, — the fervent aspirations after regions more congenial to it, — and a momentary blindness, produced by the fixed contemplation of objects too bright for human vision. I may say, in this case, in a far grander sense than that in which the words were originally spoken by our great poet, -And yet The light which led astray was light from heaven.' " On your return to us, you must surely have found consolation in the only ter- restrial produce which is pure and truly exquisite ; in the affections and attachments you have inspired, which you were most worthy to inspire, and which no human pollution can rob of their heavenly nature. If I were to prosecute the reflections and indulge the feelings which at this moment fill my mind, I should soon venture to doubt whether, for a calamity derived from such a source, and attended with such consolations, I should so far yield to the vievvs and opinions of men as to seek to condole with yon. But I check myself, and I exhort you, my most worthy friend, to check your best propensities, for the sake of attaining their object. You cannot live /or men without living irZ/A them. Serve God then by the active service of men. Contemplate more the good you can do tlian the evil vou can only lament. Allow yourself to see the loveliness of virtue amid all its imperfections ; and employ 4* 53 MEMOIR OF ROBERT HALL. your moral imagination, not so much by bringing it into contrast with the model of ideal perfection, as in gently blending some of the fainter colours of the latter with the brighter hues of real experienced excellence ; thus heightening their beauty, instead of broadening tlie shade which must surround us till we awaken from this dream in other spheres of existence. "My habits of life have not been favourable to this train of meditation. I have been too busy or too trifling. My nature perhaps would have been better consulted if I had been placed in a quieter station, where speculation might have been my business, and visions of the fair and good my chief recreation. When I approach you, I feel a powerful attraction towards this which seems the natural destiny of my mind ; but habit opposes obstacles, and duty calls me off, and reason frowns on him who wastes that reflection on a destiny independent of him which he ought to reserve for actions of which he is the master. " In another letter I may write to you on miscellaneous subjects ; at present I cannot bring my mind to speak of them. Let me hear from you soon and often. " Farewell, my dear friend, " Yours ever most faithfully, " James Mackintosh." Two visitations of so humiliating- a calamity within the compass of a year deeply affected Mr. Hall's mind. Happily, however, for himself and for the world, his spirits soon recovered their wonted tone ; and the permanent impression on his character was exclusively religious. His own decided persuasion was, that however vivid his convictions of religious truth, and of the necessity of a consistent course of evangelical obedience had formerly been, and however correct his doctrinal senti- ments during the last four or five years, yet that he did not undergo a thorough transformation of character, a complete renewal of his heart and affections, until the first of these seizures. Some of his Cambridge friends, who visited him at Shelford previously to his removal to Dr. Arnold's, and witnessed his deep prostration of soul while he read the fifty-first Psalm, and made each verse the subject of penitent confession and of a distinct prayer, were rather inclined to concur with him as to the correctness of the opinion. Be this, however, as it may (and the wonderful revelations of " the great day" can alone remove the doubt), there can be no question that from this period he seemed more to live under the prevailing recollection of his entire dependence upon God, that his habits were more devotional than they had ever before been, his exercises more fervent and more elevated. In a letter written to his friend Mr. PhiUips, of Clapham, after his recovery, he thus adverts to his afflictions : " I cannot look back upon the events which have befallen me without admira- tion and gratitude. I am a monument of the goodness and of the severity of God. My sufferings have been extreme, and the kindness of God, in interposing in my behalf, unspeakable. Pray for me, my dear friend, that I may retain an indelible sense of the mercies received, and that the inconceivable afflictions I have undergone may ' work for me the peaceable fruits of righteousness.' I am often afraid lest it should be with me as with the ancient Israelites, who, after they had sung the praises of God, ' soon forgot his works.' O ! that a life so signally redeemed from destruction may be as signally employed in that which is alone the true end of life, the service of God. But my heart is 'like a deceitful bow,' continually prone to turn aside ; so that nothing but the powerful impulse of Divine grace can fix it in a right aim." At this time, I believe, Mr. Hall, under the persuasion to which I have just alluded, made a solemn dedication of himself to God, renew- ing the act annually on the recurrence of his birthday. One of these touching and impressive records, which has been found among his papers, Avill, I feel assured, be read with deep interest. AT LEICESTER. 53 *'An Act of solemn Dedication of myself to God. " O Lord, thou that searchest the heart and triest the reins of the children of men, be thou the witness of what I am now about, in the strength of thy grace, to attempt : that grace I humbly and earnestly implore, to give validity and effect to that act of solemn engagement of myself to thy service on which I am about to enter. ' Thou knowest my foolishness, and my sins are none of thein hid from thee.' ' I was born in sin, and in iniquity did my mother conceive me.' I am an apostate, guilty branch of an apostate guilty root, and my life has been a series of rebellions and transgressions, in which I have walked ' according to the course of this world ; according to the Prince of the power of the air, the spirit that now worketh in the children of dis- obedience.'' How shall I confess my transgressions before thee ; what numbers can reach ; what words can adequately express them ! ' My iniquities have increased over my head, and my transgressions have grown up unto Heaven.'' O Lord, 1 esteem it a wonderful mercy that I have not long since been cut off in the midst of my sins, and been sent to hell before I had an opportunity or a heart to repent. Being assured from the Word of God of thy gracious and merciful nature, and of thy wil- lingness to pardon and accept penitent believing sinners on the ground of the blood and righteousness of thine own adorable Son, ' who died, the just for the unjust, to bring them to God,' and that ' him that cometh to him he will in nowise cast out,' I do most humbly prostrate myself at the footstool of his cross, and through him enter into thy covenant. I disclaim all right to myself from henceforth, to ray soul, my body, my time, my health, my reputation, my talents, or any thing that belongs to me. I confess myself to be the property of the glorious Redeemer, as one whom I humbly hope he has redeemed by his blood to be part of ' the first-fruits of his creatures.' " I do most cheerfully and cordially receive him in all his offices, as my Priest, my Prophet, and my King. I dedicate myself to him, to serve, love, and trust in him as my life and my salvation to my life's end. " I renounce the devil and all his works, the flesh, and the world, with heartfelt regret that I should have been enslaved by them so long. I do solemnly and deliberately take thee to be my full and satisfying good, and eternal portion in and through thine adorable Son the Redeemer, and by the assistance of the blessed Spirit of all grace, the third Person in the triune God, whom I take to be my Sanctifier and Comforter to the end of time, and through a happy eternity, praying that the Holy Spirit may deign to take perpetual possession of my heart and fix his abode there. " I do most solemnly devote and give up myself to the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, agreeably to the terms of the gospel cove- nant, and in humble expectation of the blessings it ascertains to sincere believers. I call thee to witness, O God! the truth and reality of this surrender of all I have, and all I am, to thee ; and, conscious of the unspeakable deceitfulness of my heart, I humbly and earnestly implore the influence of thy Spirit to enable me to stand steadfast in this covenant, as well as an interest in the blood of the Son, that I may be forgiven in those instances (alas I that such an idea should be pos- sible) in which I may, in any degree, swerve from it. " Done this [2d] day of May, 1809, seven o'clock in the evening, Leicester. " Robert Hall." 54 - MEMOIR OF ROBERT HALL. Mr. Hall, on his removal from Dr. Cox's, spent some months among his relatives and friends in Leicestershire. At Arnsby he retraced the scenes of his youth, often visited the grave-yard, which would natu- rally awaken many interesting recollections of his early life, and on these occasions he has more than once been seen kneehng at his father's grave, engaged in earnest prayer. He afterward resided, for a time, at Enderby, a pleasant and sequestered village, five miles from Leicester, where, by the united influence of calm retirement and gentle sponta- neous occupation, he gradually regained his bodily health, with great mental tranquillity, and a renewed capacity for usefulness in the church. His friends Dr. Ryland and Mr. Fuller, persuaded of the benefits that would flow from drawing his attention to a specific object, requested him to investigate the critical peculiarities of some dilRcult texts in the New Testament, respecting which Dr. Marshman had asked the opinion of his friends in England. This judicious application directed his thoughts to some of his old and favourite inquiries, and produced the most salutary elfects.* From this he passed to other literary occupa- tions, thence to closer biblical study, and, in due time, when his strength and self-possession were adequately restored to permit the exertion without injury, he returned to the delightful work of " pro- claiming the good tidings of peace." He first preached in some of the villages around him ; and then, occasionally, to a small congregation assembling at a chapel in Harvey- iane, Leicester, which had several years before been under the care of that eminent man Dr. Carey, now of Serampore. The congregation had been diminishing for some years, and at this time did not exceed two hundred and fifty : the church consisted of seventy-six members. After having preached to them a few months, he accepted an invitation to become their stated pastor ; and his ministerial labours were soon followed by tokens of good. " The people," said he, in a letter to Dr. Ryland, " are a simple-hearted, affectionate, praying people, to whom I preach with more pleasure tlian to the more refined audience at Cambridge. We have had, tlirough mercy, some small addition, and hope for more. Our meetings in general, our prayer-meetings in par- ticular, are well attended." With this church he continued connected nearly twenty years. The church and congregation steadily increased during that long interval, and scarcely any thing of moment occurred to interrupt their internal peace. The place of worsliip, which when Mr. Hall first settled there would not conveniently hold four hundred persons, was enlarged in 1809 for the reception of about eight hundred ; and in 1817 a second enlarge- ment rendered it capable of accommodating a thousand persons. In 1826, at the close of Mr. Hall's labours there, the place was comfort- ably filled, and the members of the church, besides those who it is believed had gone to their eternal reward, amounted to nearly three hundred. More than a hundred of those who constituted the evening congregation were pious members of the Churcli of England. In the autumn of 1807 Mr. Hall removed from Enderby to a house in Leicester, which he engaged partly tliat he might more conveniently associate with the people of his charge, and partly in anticipation of his marriage, which took place in March, 1808. This event gave great * For more tlmn two years he employed much time in a critical examination of thn New Testa- ment, and ill arranging surli corrected translations as lie deemed iinpnriant, with short reasons for his deviating from the aiitliorized version ; intending to publisli tlir whole in a pami)hlet of about one hundred pages. Just as he had fmislied this work, lie lor tlie lirst time saw JMackiiiglit's new translation of the Apostolic Epistles; and finding himself anticipated in many of the corrections which he thought most valuable, destroyed his manuscript. AT LEICESTER. ' 55 and sincere satisfaction to his old and intimate friends, most of whom had long regretted that one so evidently formed for domestic enjoy- ments should for so many years have lived without attaining them ; and had no doubt, indeed, that an earlier marriage would, by checking his propensity to incessant retirement and mental abstraction, have preserved him from the heavy afflictions whicli had befallen him. As Mrs. Hall still lives to mourn the loss of her incomparable husband, I must not permit myself more than to testify how highly he estimated her kindness and alfection, and how often, in his conversation, as well as in his letters, he expressed his gratitude to God for giving him so pious, prudent, and devoted a wife. Of their five children, three daughters and one son survive. Another son died in 1814.* Mr. Hall's residence at Leicester was not only of longer continuance than at any other place, but I doubt not that it was the period in which he was most happy, active^ and useful. His domestic comfort at once contributed to a more uniform flow of spirits than he had for some time experienced, and greatly to the regularity of his habits. The increase both of attentive hearers and of the number among them who were admitted to church-fellowship, supplied constant reason for encourage- ment and thankfulness. He was also within the reach of ministers and others, of diff"erent persuasions, men of decided piety, and some of them of considerable attainments, who knew how to appreciate the extraordinary advantages of frequent intercourse with such an individual ; thus yielding him the delight of an interchange of soul and sentiment, besides that fruit of friendship so aptly characterized by Lord Bacon : — " Whosoever hath his mind fraught with many thoughts, his wits and understanding do clarify and break up in the communicating and discours- ing with another — he tosseth his thoughts more easily — he marshalleth them more orderly — he seeth how they look when they are turned into words — and he waxeth wiser tlian himself, often more by an hour's discourse than by a day's meditation."! Leicester, from its situation in the heart of the midland counties, as well as from its importance in a leading inland manufacture, was the centre of influence and operation to a considerable distance around ; and the concurrence of many favourable circumstances had rendered it the centre also of a religious influence, and of religious operations, diff'using themselves incessantly with a new and growing impulse. To this the zeal and activity of the late Rev. Thomas Robinson of Leices- ter, and of Mr. Hall's father, had greatly contributed ; and many clergy- men and dissenting ministers in Leicestershire and tlie neighbouring counties, were, in their respective fields of labour, instrumental in producing the most cheering and successful results. The attention of the Christian world had been recently invited, or, I might perhaps say, summoned., to promote the noble objects of missionary societies, Bible societies, Sunday and other schools for the instruction of the poor ; and the summons had been obeyed in a universality and cordiality of vigor- ous Christian eftbrt, and in a spirit of conciliation and harmony, such as the world had not yet known. Placed in the midst of so extensive * See p. 248. t Mr. Hall, however, from the midway position of Leicester, between London and the large towns in Lancashire and Yorkshire, was much exposed to interruptions. (See p. 282.) Many persons who had but a slight acquaintance with him would invariably spend a day at Leicester in their way from London to Liverpool, Manchester, Sheffield, &c., or from either of those places to London, that they might, during the greater part of it, enjoy his society ; and, though he often felt this to be a real annoyance, yet such was his feelmg of what was due to strangers in point of courtesy, that it was not until he had sustamed the inconvenience lor almost twenty years that he would consent that this class of visiters should be informed he would not be at leisure to see them until evening. 56 MEMOIR OF ROBERT HALL. a sphere of benevolent and sacred influence, Mr. Hall was soon roused to a measure of activity and a diversity of employment to which he had hitherto been a stranger. The Bible Society at Leicester, mission- ary societies there and all around, asked and received his aid ; and these, with the ditferent public services of frequent occurrence among orthodox dissenters, gave occasion to the happiest exercise of his varied powers. His religious character thus became correctly estimated by a much larger portion of the community. Instead of being known chiefly to men of reading and taste, as an author who had appeared before the world on a few momentous occasions, and, after a striking exhibition of inteUectual and moral energy, had hastened back to his retirement, he now became much more known and revered as the correct and eloquent interpreter of the Christian faith, the intrepid assertor of its inflnite superiority to all human systems of philosophy or morals. Long had he been admired by the inteUigent as a great man ; the circumstances in which he now moved with so much philanthropic ardour caused him to be regarded, not merely by these, but by pious men of every per- suasion, as a good man, rejoicing to consecrate his best faculties to the specific objects of the Christian ministry, and such purposes of enlarged exertion as were fully compatible with his holy calling. Nor were these efibrts, and this high estimate of their value, confined to the field of activity he thus occupied. He had, on quitting Bristol in 1791, consented to spend a few weeks with his friends there every two years. He had also made a similar arrangement for visiting Cambridge, where the members of his former congregation had peculiar claims upon him. Although his invariable dread of notoriety, and his dislike of the bustle of the metropolis, caused his visits there to be " few and far between," yet they occurred sufficiently often to excite almost uni- versally the highest admiration of his singular qualities as a preacher, and to convince many who previously had contemplated the evangelical system of religion with great disrelish that it was the only foundation of elevated morality, and that its cordial adoption was not necessarily repugnant to genius, learning, and intellectual cultivation. wherever he went, he was called to address overflowing congrega- tions, and commonly of a remarkably mixed character. Churchmen and dissenters ; men of rank and influence, individuals in lower stations ; men of simple piety, and others of deep theological knowledge ; men who admired Christianity as a beautiful system, and those who received it into the heart by faith; men in doubt, others involved in unbelief: all resorted to the place where he was announced as the preacher. Frequently he was apprized of this peculiarity in the structure of the auditory, and whenever that was the case, the striking appropriation of the sermon to the assembly was always manifest. Of this the readei will have ample evidence in the sermons inserted in this volume, many of which were delivered on public occasions.* * That the reader may not suspect I overrate the Impression made hy Mr. Hall upon those who were not his imlmales, nor had fully adopted his scheme of theolosy, 1 insert in Appendix, Note C, the late Mr. John Scott's elegant and discriminating sketch of iiis powers as a preacher and writer. While this sheet was going through the press, I accidentally found among some old letters one from a friend residing in France, in wtii'li there was the following allusion to Mr. Hall liy a French Protestant clergyman, who was visiting Bristol in Sept. 1^22. In a letter addressed to another I'rot- estant minister, Mr. Kerpezdron, of Aulnay, he says, " I heard Mr. Hubert Hall of Leicester, last Tuesday morning ; but his sermon was so great, so good, so elociuent, so simple, so pious, in a word, socomplete a piece of pulpit oratory, that I cannot tell you any thing about it, e.vcept that it has made an indelible impression on my mind. I thought when I came out that I never could preach again." AT LEICESTER. 57 Mr. Hall's writings during his residence at Leicester, though by no means numerous, tended greatly to augment his influence upon society. The first of these was published anonymously in the Eclectic Review, but left no room for hesitation as to its author. It was a critique upon a pamphlet entitled " Zeal without Innovation," which he under- took at the earnest entreaty of the late Mr. Robinson of Leicester, " who, in common with all the serious clergy in those parts, disapproved the pamphlet highly."* As it is no part of my intention to present elaborate accounts of Mr. Hall's successive publications, it may suffice for me to remark with regard to this critique, that while it places the controversy between the puritans and their opponents in a flood of light, and exhibits the essential importance of religious liberty to the growth, if not in some cases to the existence, of genuine, devotional Chris- tianity ; it presents a more admirable picture of the character of the evangelical clergy,! a more powerful, liberal, and successful defence of their object and conduct, than has been, as yet, accomplished by any other person. Many regard it as among the most instructive and useful, as well as among the most masterly, of Mr. Hall's productions. It abounds in keen satire, in irrefragable argument, in touching description, in tasteful imagery, in exquisite diction, and in sentiments of a weight and worth only to be fully estimated by men whose minds are elevated above the prejudices which tie us down to sects and parties, and can rejoice at the extension of true religion among persons of any persua- sion, or through the instrumentality of whomsoever the great Head of the church may employ. J The value set by the public upon this disquisition was evinced in the rapid sale of three editions, in a separate pamphlet, independently of its circulation in the Review. Of the sermons published by Mr. Hall during his residence at Leices- ter, the first was preached in behalf of the Sunday-school connected with his own congregation, and appeared under the title of " The Advantages of Knowledge to the Lower Classes." The subject is not precisely adapted to the decorations of eloquence ; for the deplorable effects of ignorance and the blessings of knowledge are best exhibited in the detail of facts, which admit of no embellishment. Mr. Hall's desire to enlarge the capacity for enjoyment among the lower classes, as well as to promote their highest welfare, tempted him, however, to enter this region of commonplaces, and thus gave a fresh opportunity of showing how an original thinker can communicate an air of fresh- ness to a worn-out topic, bring up to the surface argimients and illustra- tions that lie far below the reach of ordinary reasoners, and enforce them with a warmth and energy calculated equally to impress and to convince.^ The next two sermons are of a much higher order. One of them, on " The Discouragements and Supports of the Christian Minister," was addressed to the Rev. James Robertson, on his ordination over the * See p. 233. t I use this term to avoid a periphrasis, and because it is intelligible and strictly charac- teristic. t See vol. ij. p. 234-289. ^ This sermon, as well as his two able pamphlets on the " Framework Knitters' Fund," and in '• Reply to Cobbett and others" (vol. ii. p. 125-154), should be regarded as flowing entirely from his benevolence. This, with him, had never been a fleeting sentiment in occasional operation, but one that was permanently lied by Christian principles. It was, however, greatly e.xtended, to adopt his own language, '• by those impressions of tenderness, gratitude, and sympathy which the endear- ments of domeslic life supply," and led him to investigate the actual circumstances of the neigh- bouring poor, and constantly to aim at the alleviation of their distress. Not long after his marriage, when his own pecuniary resources were much restricted, he proposed to fast on certain days, that be might have it in his power to distribute more among the needy: and he thought It wrong to have more than two coats when so many persons around him were clothed in mere rags. 58 MEMOIR OF ROBERT HALL. Independent Church at Stretton, Warwickshire ; the other, which por- trays the duties, discouragements, and supports "of the Christian Missionary," was addressed to the Rev. Eustace Carey, on his desig- nation as" a missionary to India. In these the author traces with a master hand the various sources of discouragement and consolation which appertain to the respective offices of the minister and the mission- ary. Like one intimately acquainted with comparative anatomy, he exhibits the points of agreement, as well as those of diversity, in the different subjects, with the most convincing discrimination ; while con- versant as well with the morbid as the healthy anatomy of the subjects before him, he explores to its inmost recess that universal moral disease which calls forth the efforts of both ministers and missionaries, and then (where the analogy must drop) he reveals the principles and the origin of an infallible cure. Both these addresses are remarkable for their originality and variety ; every topic successively advanced is irradiated with eloquence, and glows witli feeling ; and so skilfully are both the discourses conducted, that wliile they are avowedly directed to the minister and the missionary, and abound in the most valuable instructions to them respectively, the private Christian, who reads with devout attention, may derive from them as rich instruction for himself, and as many directions for his own religious improvement, as though they were specifically addressed to him alone. This, indeed, was a decided characteristic of Mr. Hall's sermons. He who heard, or he who read, would find his astonislnuent and admiration strongly excited ; but often, if not always, the more his emotion was enkindled by the preacher, the more forcibly was he compelled to retire to "the cham- bers of imagery," and examine his own heart. The sudden and untimely death of the Princess Charlotte of Wales, was an event calculated to make the deepest impression upon a mind constituted like Mr. Hall's. The illustrious rank of the victim, her youth and recent marriage, the affecting nature of the catastrophe, its probable influence upon the reigning monarch, upon the succession to the throne, and the welfare of the nation even to distant ages ; all pre- sented themselves to his thoughts with the most heart-stirring energy. He preached three sermons on the occasion, of which many of the auditors affirm the one published was by no means the best. It, how- ever, by universal acknowledgment, bore the palm above all the numerous valuable sermons that were then published. It embraces the various topics that would occur to a man of piety, feeling, and excur- sive thought, on the contemplation of such an event, — the mysterious- ness of God's providence, the vicissitudes of empires, the aggravated poignancy of sudden calamity to individuals of elevated station, "the uncertainty of life, the frailty of youth, the evanescence of beauty, the nothingness of worldly greatness," the blindness of man to futurity, " the human race itself withering" away, and the perpetuity of God's promises as the great and noble contrast to universal fragility ; these are touched in succession with the utmost tenderness, beauty, and sub- limity. In felicity of diction, in delicacy and pathos, in the rich variety of most exquisite and instructive trains of thought, in their cogent application to truths of the utmost moment, in the masterly combina- tion of what in eloquence, philosophy, and religion was best calculated to make a permanent and salutary impression, this sermon probably stands unrivalled. Besides the various sermons and reviews which he wrote and pub- lished during his residence at Leicester, he composed for circulation among the associated Baptist churches in the counties of xSorthamp- AT LEICESTER. 59 ton, Leicester, and Warwick, two tracts. On the Work of the Holy- Spirit, and On Hearing the Word ; both deeply imbued with simple evangelical truth, and rich in excellent practical remarks, fitted for the beneficial perusal of all classes. There were also other compositions which he executed with singular felicity. I mean his biographical sketches. They are, except "the rapid but exquisite sketches of Brai- nerd, Fletcher of Madeley, and Henry Martyn, the delineations of a friend ; and perhaps, in a few particulars, need a slight allowance for the high colouring to which the warmth of friendship tempts us when meditating upon departed excellence ; yet they are, on the whole, exact in the resemblance, and finely exemplify the author's varied povi'ers, especially his delicate and accurate discrimination of the degrees and shades of human character. One of these, the character of the Rev. John SutcliflT, is an unfinished portrait ; Mr. Hall, after a few unsatisfactory trials, relinquishing the attempt. The following letter to Mr. Fuller, on the occasion of this failure, will be read with interest, as an example both of his diffidence and of his sense of the obligation of a promise. " My dear Brother, " I am truly concerned to tell you that I cannot succeed at all in my attempts to draw the character of our dear and venerable brother SutclifF. I have made several efforts, and have sketched, as well as I could, the outlines of what I con- ceive to be his character ; but have failed in producing such a portrait as appears to me fit for the public eye. I am perfectly convinced that your intimacy with him, and your powers of discrimination, will enable you to present to posterity a much juster and more impressive idea of him than I can. I am heartily sorry I promised it. But promises I hold sacred ; and therefore, if you insist upon it, and are not willing to release me from my engagement, T will accomplish the task as well as I can. But if you will let the matter pass sub silenlio, without reproaching me, you will oblige me considerably. It appears to me that, if I ever possessed a faculty of character-drawing, I have lost it, probably for want of use ; as I am far from taking any delight in a minute criticism on character, to which, in my younger days, I was excessively addicted. Both our tastes and talents change with the progress of years. The purport of these lines, however, is to request you to absolve me from my promise, in which light I shall interpret your silence ; holding myself ready, however, to comply with your injunctions. •' I am, my dear sir, " Your affectionate brother, "Sept. mi. "R. Hall." For several years, about this time, Mr. Hall's thoughts were greatly occupied upon the subject of "Terms of Communion." His first pub- lication in reference to it appeared in 1815 : but they who were admitted to his intimacy will recollect how often, three or four years before its appearance, he advocated a cautious revision of the practice of nearly all churches ; and how successfully he refuted the arguments of those who favoured any narrow system of exclusion. He regarded the ex- istence of a principle which made so many churches points of repulsion instead of centres of union as a very serious evil ; and often deplored it in language similar to that which commences his first production on the subject.* The discussion, indeed, is neither of slight nor of temporary inter- est. It involves the prevailing practice of every church in Christendom, whether established or independent of an establishment ; and it includes an answer to the inquirj'^ how purity of faith and conduct shall be pre- * See vol i: p: 289. 60 MEMOIR OF ROBERT HALL. served without an infringement of the principles requisite to make every church a portion of tliat subhme invisible society, the " Church Univer- sal," constituted of all the members of Christ's mystical body. Rapidly approaching, as we seem to be, to that state of things when all churches, national as well as others, will feel the expediency, if not the necessity, of reverting to first principles in modifying and improving their several communities, the controversy on " Terms of Communion" forces itself upon the attention as one of primary importance, serving to ascertain and determine almost every question of value in reference to ecclesiastical polity. I thus, though but for a moment, advert to this controversy, that the general reader may not be induced to undervalue it. It occupies a con- siderable portion of the first volume of these works, besides the sub- stance of a distinct pamphlet inserted in the second volume. Of the differ- ent writers who opposed Mr. Hall on this occasion, Mr. Kinghorn was, unquestionably, the most acute and learned. His volume sliould be read in connexion with Mr. Hall's, by such as wish to view the question in all its bearings. Mr. Hall's part of the controversy is conducted with his characteristic frankness and decision ; and evinces the same clear- ness, copiousness, strength, and majesty of diction as he uniformly dis- played upon every subject to which he bent his mind with all its power. Sometimes when a narrow, illiberal sentiment, calculated to check the spirit of Christian union and affection, excites his indignation, he rebukes with a cutting severity : and I feel no inclination to deny, that, in a few cases, he has suffered himself to indulge in terms of sarcasm, if not of contempt, that add nothing to his argument, and had been better spared. Yet, as one of his bitterest opponents has declared, " it was seldom that his thunder was heard, but the bolt was felt ; and both were exercised on the side of truth and virtue." In these, as in others of his controversial pieces, the reader may safely reckon upon much that is eloquent and impressive, apart from what immediately relates to the questions under debate. Among which may be specified the remarks on excommunication, the beautiful delinea- tion of the conduct of our Lord, the passages distinguishing between conditions of salvation and meritorious conditions, and those in which he discriminates between the atonement contemplated as a fact and as a doctrine, and thence infers the " peculiar glory of the gospel in con- tradistinction from the law of Moses."* About this timet Mr. Hall had a correspondence with a friend on a kindred subject, that of occasional communion. That individual, though a decided Baptist, and long a member of a dissenting church, was in the habit of occasional communion with an Episcopalian chapel in his neighbourhood, the minister of which held evangelical sentiments. Mr. Hall expressed a desire to be acquainted with his reasons for this practice. In reply, he informed Mr. HaU that he thought those reasons flowed obviously from the principles for which he himself was so earnestly and successfully contending : that one of the highest enjoy- ments of a man who humbly hoped he constituted a part of the church universal was to testify his feeling of brotherhood with other assem- blies of orthodox Christians, than that with which he was immediately * See vol i. p. 339, 359, 360, 378-382, 389. 390. t Nearly at iliis lime, also, viz. in Sepfembcr, 1817, the faculty of Marischal College, Aberdeen, at the instance of their late learned principal. Dr. W. L. Brown, conferred upon Mr. Hall the degree of D.D., in testimony of their high admiration of his talents and character. He felt much gratified by this mark of their good opinion; but, having a conscientious objection to the title of doctor of divinity, he never adopted it. AT LEICESTER. 61 connected, by holding communion with them at convenient seasons : that in this respect, as the poHtical grounds of dissent were of very httle value in his esteem, he made no mental distinction between estab- lished and separate churches: that, having no conscientious objection to kneeling at the sacrament, and having resolved never to communicate even occasionally but where he had reason to believe the bulk of those who partook of the sacrament were real Christians, he felt no hesitation as to the propriety, while he could speak decidedly as to the comfort, of the course he had pursued. He stated, further, that with Richard Baxter he " disowned the principle of many who think their presence maketh them guilty of all that is faulty in the public worship and minis- tration : for this dissolveth all worshipping churches on earth, without exception ;" that he considered Baxter's Refutation of Dr. Owen's argu- ments against occasional communion as complete ; and that he would rather err in the spirit of Baxter and Howe, on such a question, than be right according to the narrow measures by which too many would enforce a contrary practice. Mr. Hall's reply, which is subjoined, exemplifies his usual manner of guarding against a misapprehension of the real extent of his agreement with another upon any disputed point. "My dear Friend, " March d, 18\8. " I am much obliged to you for the frankness with which you have answered my inquiries. Perhaps I may not be quite prepared to go with you the full extent of your moderation ; though on this I have by no means made up my mind. I admire the spirit with which you are actuated, and esteem you more than ever for the part you have acted. I perfectly agree with you that the old grounds of dis- sent are the true ones, and that our recent apologists have mixed up too much of a political cast in their reasonings upon this subject. Though I should depre- cate the founding of any estahlished church, in the popular sense of that term, I think it very injudicious to lay that as the corner-stone of dissent. We have much stronger ground in the specific corruptions of the Church of England, ground which our pious ancestors occupied, and which may safely defy every attempt of the most powerful and acute minds to subvert. With respect to occasional con- formity, I by no means think it involves an abandonment of dissent ; and I am inclined to think that, were I in a private station (not a minister, I mean), I should, under certain circumstances, and in certain situations, be disposed to practise it ; though nothing would induce me to acknowledge myself a permanent member of the Church of England. " In regard to episcopacy, it appears to me entirely a human, though certainly a very early, invention. It was unknown, I believe, in the apostolical times ; with the exception, probably, of the latter part of John's time. But, as it was prac- tised in the second and third centuries, I should have no conscientious objection to it. As it subsists at present among us, I am sorry to say I can scarcely conceive a greater [abuse]. It subverts equally the rights of pastors and of people, and is nothing less than one of the worst relics of the papal hierarchy. Were every thing else what it ought to be in the established church, prelacy, as it now subsists, would make me a decided dissenter. »■**** * # * " I remain, my dear sir, with great esteem, " Yours most affectionately, «R. Hall." Mr. Hall's engagements for the press, numerous and heavy as they were to one who wrote with so much difficulty and pain, did not draw him aside from pastoral watchfulness over his church and congregation ; nor were they permitted to shorten those hours of retirement in which he sought " converse with God." Nothing, on the contrary, was more evident than his increased spirit of devotion as he advanced in life. About the year 1812, he commenced the practice of setting apart one 62 MEMOIR OF ROBERT HALL. day in a month for especial prayer and fasting. On these occasions lio retired into his study immediately after the morning domestic worship, and remained there until tlie evening. Finding this eminently condu- cive to his own comfort, at the end of about two years he recommended the church to hold quarterly fasts. They at once adopted the recom- mendation ; and some of the members often speak of the first meeting for this purpose as a most extraordinary season of devout and solemn feeling. About the same time, or somewhat earlier, he amiounced his opinion of the disadvantage arising from the presence of others besides the communicants on sacramental occasions. In a short address he ex- plained the customs of the early Christians with regard to the Lord's Supper, and showed that the admission of spectators who were not members of the church during the celebration was comparatively a modern innovation. He pointed out the inconclusiveness of the ordi- nary arguments, — that spectators often receive benefit from tlie addresses of the ministers, and that therefore their exclusion was cutting them off from good, and that such exclusion was an infringe- ment of religious liberty. He also stated that the presence of such spectators deprived him of much comfort during the communion service, and that he should regard their keeping away as a personal kindness to himself. His address was received with affectionate respect ; and from that time, those who had previously remained to witness the administration discontinued the custom. Some time after the conclusion of his part of the controversy on " Terms of Communion," he made an effort to persuade the church at Harvey-lane to adopt the practice of " mixed communion ;" but find- ing that it would disturb the peace which had so long subsisted in the society, he relinquished his intention, and recommended tlie formation of a distinct church on the mixed communion principle, its sacramental service being held on the morning of the same Sabbath on which the "strict communion" church lield its corresponding service in the after- noon. This plan was adopted and followed during Mr. Hall's contin- uance at Leicester, without causing any interruption of the harmony which prevailed among the different classes of worshippers. In the year 18-23, the minister of a ITnitarian congregation at Lei- cester, having delivered a series of what are usually denominated " challenge lectures," in defence of his own opinions, to hear which individuals of other persuasions were publicly invited, Mr. Hall felt it to be his duty to offer a timely antidote to the evil. He therefore preached twelve lectures on the points at issue, and had the happiness to know that they were serviceable in checking the diffusion of So- cinian error. His concise outline of these lectures, as well as fuller notes of two or three, are inserted in the present volume. He was strongly urged by several members of his congregation, and by various neighbouring ministers, to publish the whole ; but uniformly replied, that though he believed they had been beneficial, he was conscious they contained nothing that could be regarded as really new in the contro- versy; and that Dr. Wardlaw had so admirably occupied the ground in his sermons, already before the public, tliat any thing which he could offer in print would only be regarded as an impertinent intrusion. Througliout ttie whole of' Mr. HalFs residence at Leicester, he suffered much from his constitutional complaint ; and neither his habit of smoking, nor that of taking laudanum,* seemed effectually to alle- * In 1812 he took from fifty to one hundred drops every night. Before 1826 the quantity had increased to one thousand drops. LAST SERVICE AT LEICESTER. 63 viate his sufferings. It was truly surprising that this constant severe pain, and the means adopted to mitigate it, did not in any measure diminish his mental energy. A little difference was, perhaps, discerni- ble in the vivacity of his conversation ; but his preaching had, as yet, lost nothing of its force. In letters to his friends he expressed a hope that " a greater savour of Jesus Christ accompanied his ministry ;" and remarked, that " his strain of preaching was much less elegant, but more intended for instruction, for awakenuig conviction, and carrying home truth with power to the heart." And thus it was found, that, as he advanced in years, though there might be a little less of elaboration and polish, there was more of spiritual feeling, more of tender and earnest expostulation, and of that pungency of application to the heart and conscience, which resulted from an enlarged acquaintance with human character, and a deeper knowledge of " the things of God." That the Divine blessing accompanied these labours, and in many cases rendered the impression permanent, the history of the church and con- gregation abundantly proves. The death of Dr. Ryland in 1825 led to Mr. Hall's invitation to take the pastoral office over the church at Broadmead, Bristol, an office which had been long and honourably sustained by that excellent indi- vidual. After some months spent in anxious deliberation, in advising with his friends, and seeking counsel from above, from the dread he felt lest he " should rush into a sphere of action to which he was not called, and offend God by deserting his proper post," he at length decided to dissolve his long and happy connexion with the church at Leicester. The day of separation, the last sacrament Sabbath, March 26th, 1826, was a day of anguish to him and them, of which I shall not attempt the description. Suffice it to say, that he went through the ordinary public duties of the day with tolerable composure ;* but at the sacramental service he strove in vain to conceal his emotion. In one of his addresses to the members of the church, on adverting to the pain of separation, he was so much affected that he sat down, covered his face with his hands, and wept ; they, sharing in his distress, gave un- equivocal signs of the deepest feeling. Mr. Eustace Carey, who was present, continued the devotional part of the service, imtil Mr. Hall was sufficiently recovered to proceed. At the close of the solemnity the weeping became again universal, and they parted " sorrowing most of all that they should see his face no more." Very shortly afterward the church received from Mr. Hall the follow- ing letter of resignation. "to THE CHURCH OP CHRIST MEETING IN H.VRVEV-LANE, LEICESTER. " My dear Brethren and Sisters, "M April, 1826. "I take this opportunity of solemnly and affectionately resigning the pastoral charge which I have long sustained among; you, and of expressing, at the same time, the deep sense I shall ever retain of the marks of affection and esteem with which, both collectively and individually, you have honoured me. " Though the providence of God has, as I conceive, called me to labour in another part of his vineyard, my solicitude for your spiritual welfare will ever remain unimpaired, nor will any thing give me more joy than to hear of your growth in grace, peace, and prosperity. My prayer will never cease to ascend to the God of all comfort, that he will establish your hearts in love, unite you more and more in the fellowship of saints, and make you fruitful in every good work. * In order chat neither his feelings nor those oP the rongregation might be too severely tried during the public services, he preached two sermons for the Baptist Mission : that in the nnurning from Ephes. iii. 8, " Unto me, who am less than the least of all saints, is this grace given, that I should preach among tho gentiles the unsearchable riches of Christ ." that in the evening from Matt, vi. 10, " Thy kingdom come." 64 MEMOIR OF ROBERT HALL. " Let me earnestly entreat you to guard most anxiously against whatever may tend to weaken your union, diminish your ali'eclion, or imbitter your spirits against each other. ' Let brotherly love continue :' ' seek peace and pursue it ;' and ' may the God of peace, who brought again from the dead the Lord Jesus Christ, that Great Shepherd of the sheep, stablish, strengthen, settle, and make you perfect"? " I hope that, in the choice of a successor, you will earnestly and anxiously seek Divine direction ; prefer the useful to the splendid ; the solid to the glittering and showy ; and be supplied with a pastor who will, in doctrine, exhibit ' uncorrupt- ness, trravity, sincerity, and sound speech which cannot be condemned,' and be in manner and behaviour a pattern to believers. " Permit me, on this occasion, to return j'ou my sincere acknowledgments for the uniform kindness with which you have treated mc, the respectful attention you have paid to my ministry, and the candour with which you have borne my infirmities. " With my most earnest prayers for your spiritual and eternal welfare, I remain, " My dear brethren and sisters, " Your obliged and affectionate friend and brother, " Robert Hall." Mr. Hall was in his sixty-second year when he removed to Bristol, the scene of his first continuous labours, and now to become the scene of his closing ministry. tSonie of the friends of his early life still sur- vived to welcome his return among them ; and many others, who had profited by his pulpit exertions on his periodical visits to Bristol, con- gratulated themselves that he to whom, under God, they owed so much had become their pastor. All things, indeed, except his infirm state of health, seemed to conspire in promoting his own happiness as well as the prosperity of the church with which he had again connected himself. The church and congregation soon received numerous accessions. In writing to a friend, early in 1829, he says, " I continue to be very happy with my people, from whom 1 daily receive every demonstration of affection and respect. Our attendance is as good as I could wish ; and we have added to the Baptist church, during the last year, twenty- seven, and six are standing candidates for baptism. For these tokens of the Divine presence I desire to be thankfid." His heavenly Father, during the concluding years of his life, made a rich provision for his social enjoyments, both in his family and among his friends. Besides the comfort of frequent association with many of his own flock, his pleasures were greatly heightened by intercourse with Mr. Foster, and the tutors of the Baptist Academy, as well as with several clergymen and other ministers and laymen, residing in Bristol and its vicinity. It is true, that wherever he went, or in what- ever he engaged, he carried with him the complaint from which he had suffered so much and so long. It had become, as his esteemed friend Mr. Addington termed it, " an internal apparatus of torture;" yet, such was the peculiar structure of his mind, doubtless fortified and prepared for patient endurance by an energy imparted from above, that though his appointment by day and by night was incessant pain, yet high enjoy- ment was, notwithstanding, the law of his existence. Between his final removal to Bristol and his death, he visited his friends at Cambridge twice, namely, in 18-27 and 1829. These visits were undertaken with the sense of responsibility of one who had formerly been their pastor : and he made it a rule so to arrange his time while there as to see, converse with, and exhort every member of the church, and a great proportion of the congregation. He paid also one visit to his recently-quitted flock at Leicester ; and two to his friends in London. On these occasions the anxiety to hear him preach AT BRISTOL. 65 was as great as it had ever been ; while his sermons were characterized in a high degree by the qualities that had long distinguished them, — with the addition of a stronger manifestation of religious and benevo- lent affections, a still more touching persuasiveness of manner, con- tinued with an increasing intensity of feeling, with deeper and deeper solemnity of appeal ; the entire effect being greatly augmented by the sudden introduction, just as the last sentence seemed dropping from his lips, of some new topic of application or of caution, most urgently pressed ; as though he could not cease to invite, to warn, to expostulate^ until the " Great Master of assemblies" vouchsafed to him the assurance that he had not been pleading his cause in vain.* Mr. Hall's increasing infirmities did not extinguish his literary ardour^ or abate his love of reading. Except during the first years of his resi- dence at Cambridge, reading, and the thinking it called forth, were his incessant occupation to the very close of life ; and both the pursuit and its application to the benefit of others yielded him the highest delight. In his early life, as I have already mentioned, it was common with him to carry on five or six different courses of study simulta- neously. But for the last ten or twelve years, he mostly confined himself to one book at a time, and read it to the end. His reading continued to be very extensive and varied (for it was his decided opinion that every species of knowledge might be rendered subservient to religion), but his predilection, next to the Scriptures, was for works of clear, strong, and conclusive reasoning, though conveyed in language far from elevated, and sometimes perhaps obscure. Thus he, for full sixty years, read .Jonathan Edwards's writings with undiminished plea- sure. And of Chillingworth's " Religion of Protestants" he has often been known to say, " It is just like reading a novel :" which, indeed, was his usual expression of commendation with regard to such works of a dry or abstract nature as discovered subtilty, depth, or vigour of thought. In this class he placed the works of Jeremy Bentham, for whom he entertained the highest estimation, as an original, profound, and accurate thinker; observing often, that in the particular province of his speculations, the science of legislation, he had advanced to the limits of reason ; and that if he were compelled to legislate for the world upon uninspired principles, " he should take Bentham, and go from state to state with as firm a step as though he walked upon a pavement of adamant."! If, at any time, he could not settle a point of interest without studying a language of which he was ignorant, that constituted no impediment. Shortly before he quitted Leicester, a friend found him one morning, very early, lying on the carpet, with an Italian dictionary and a volume of Dante before him. Being about to quit the room, he said, '*' No, sir, don't go. I will tell you what I have been about for some weeks. A short time since I was greatly delighted with a parallel between the Paradise Lost and the Divine Comedy of Dante which I read in the Edinburgh Review. But in matters of taste, as well as others, I always like to judge for myself; and so I have been studying Italian. I have caught the idiom, and am reading Dante with great relish ; though I cannot yet say, with Milton, — * It was seldom ihat the friends who attempted to take down Mr. Hall's sermons did not uncon- sciously relinquish writing as he approached the close. The reader, however, who never had the privilege of hearing him preach, will be able to form some, conception of his impressive terminations from the last five pases of the sermon in the present volume on " the Glory of God in concealnig." t He always reconnnended those who were likely to be offended with the strangeness of Ben- tham's style to study his principles through the medium of his elegant French commentator, M. Dumont. Vol. III. — 5 66 MEMOIR OF ROBERT HALL. " ' Now my task is »mooth!y done, 1 can fly or I can run.' " It may seem somewhat out of place, yet I shall be for^ven if I here insert an extract of a letter just received from Mr. Ryley, one of Mr. Hall's most intelligent Leicester friends, in reference to his course of reading there. " It was what some men might think desultory ; but it was essentially a con- stant habit of grappling with the strong. Belles Lettres he did not altogether neglect, though he held the average of such literature in small estimation. Poetry he seldom read, nor did he seem to me to have even studied it con arnore. He thought Gray's Elegy the finest thing ever written. Milton was his favourite. There was something peculiar in his habits respecting poetry. He spoke slightly of poets, with few exceptions, and those few by no means what might have been expected from his own highly imaginative cast of mind. Yet, when he did get hold of an exquisite poem, he would read it with intense attention, apparently with the deepest interest, and then abuse it. With the exception of Milton, who is, in fact, an antique, he preferred the ancient to the modern poets. Of the poetry of our own day, he spoke with a contempt which an accurate or extensive acquaint- ance with it would have compelled him to relinquish. He had not, I think, made history a distinct and consecutive study, though he had read many of the original historians. He seemed to feel this of late years, and gave much of his time to the subject." His enjoyment of the writings of the illustrious men of Greece and Rome remauied unimpaired to the last. Plato, Aristotle, and Cicero suggested to him many noble arguments in favour of an internal spring of morality, which he employed with his wonted skill in support of the religion of pure motive and devotedness of spirit. Virgil's Georgics he characterized as the most finished of human compositions ; and he continued to prefer Virgil to Homer. He greatly admired the copious- ness, grace, and harmony of Cicero's diction ; but considered Demos- thenes by far the most powerful orator the world had known ; and after speaking with fervid applause of the oration Trtpi i.TC(pavov, added, that he thought it impossible for a man of soul and feeling to read a single page without catching fire. Only a few months before his last illness, in clas- sifying the different natures and respective effects of the eloquence of rea- son, of passion, and of imagination, he selected his principal illustrations from Demosthenes, and endeavoured to show that where the two former kinds of eloquence existed in due proportion, the third was of very minor consequence. The individual to whom he made these remarks was struck, as he proceeded, with the development which they sup- plied of the causes of the deep impression made by his own pulpit addresses ; and imputed his more sparing use of imagery in later years, rather to the deliberate conviction of his mind, than to any diminution of the imaginative faculty. But I must restrain myself, and pass to Mr. Hall's every-day habits after his return to Bristol. The course of his life at home, when not interrupted by visiters, was very uniform. He generally rose and took his breakfast about nine o'clock. Breakfast was immediately succeeded by family worship. At this exercise he went reguhirly through the Scriptures, reading a portion of the Old Testament in the morning, and of the New Testament in the evening. On Sunday morning he almost invariably read the ninety-second Psalm, being short, and appro- priate to the day. He also read in his family the translation of the four Gospels by Campbell, whom he particularly admired, and often recommended, as an accurate translator, and a critic of great acute- ness, taste, and judgment. He seldom made any remarks on the por- AT BRISTOL. 67 tion of Scripture, except when strangers were present, who, he knew, would be disappointed at their entire omission. He regarded himself as very incompetent to render this brief kind of exposition instructive. In the prayer that succeeded, he was not in the habit of forming his petitions on the passage of Scripture just read, though the prayer was usually of considerable length, and very minute in its appropriation. He adverted specifically to all the persons belonging to his family, present and absent : never forgot the people of his care ; and dwelt on the distinct cases of members of the church that were under any kind of trial or affliction. After breakfast and worship, he retired into his study, and uniformly spent some time in devotion, afterward generally reading a portion of the Hebrew Bible. For the last two years, he read daily two chapters of Matthew Henry's Commentary. As he proceeded he felt increasing interest and pleasure ; admiring the copiousness, variety, and pious ingenuity of the thoughts, the simplicity, strength, and pregnancy of the expressions. He earnestly recommended this commentary to his daughters ; and on hearing the eldest reading, for successive mornings, to the second, he expressed the highest delight. The remainder of the morning until dinner, about three o'clock, was spent in reading some work of learning or of severe thought. After dinner he generally retired to his study, and, if not in so much pain as to prevent it, slept for some time. On Tuesday evenings were held what are termed " the conferences," in the vestry of the Broadmead chapel : they are meetings ordinarily attended by about two hundred persons, at which two of the students belonging to the Bristol Education Society, or one of the students and the president, speak on a passage of Scripture previously selected for the purpose. Mr. Hall always attended on these occasions, and con- cluded by speaking for about a quarter of an hour, on the subject of the preceding addresses. He also attended the prayer-meetings, in the same place, on Thursday evenings ; except once a month, namely, on the Thursday previous to the administration of the Lord's Supper, when he preached. The other evenings in the week, except Saturday (and that, indeed, not always excepted), he usually spent at the house of one or other of his congregation, with a very few friends, who were invited to meet him. His inability to walk having greatly increased, his friends generally sent a carriage for him about six o'clock, and conveyed him back about ten. It is difficult to say whether he had greater fondness for retirement or for company. It displeased him if, especially by sudden interrup- tions, he was obliged to give up his morning hours of study to visiters ; and it would commonly have been a disappointment, if he had not the opportunity of spending his evenings in society. If he were, at any time, thrown among persons of distinguished talents and attainments, and their general character pleased him, it was soon shown how truth and knowledge might be educed by the operation of intellect upon intellect, and how rich a field of instruction and delight would thus be open for the general enjoyment of the party. Usually, however, his choice turned simply upon the prerequisite of piety ; he sought for no other acquisitions in his associates than the graces of the Spirit; intelhgence added to the enjoyment, but was not essential to it. The society of old friends had with him an exquisite charm, which was greatly height- ened if their fathers had been known and esteemed by him or his father; such intercourse, requiring no effort, gave full scope to his affections, 5* 68 MEMOIR OF ROBERT HALL. "without disturbing his mental repose. He uniformly retired from these evening parties full of grateful references to the pleasure which he had felt. If any of his family who accompanied him happened to say that the evening had been dull, he would reply, " I don't think so. It was very pleasant. I enjoyed it. I enjoy every thing." Considering the continuity of his sufferings, how touching a commentary is this upon the inspired aphorism, " the good man shall be satisfied from himself!" Mr. Hall commonly retired to rest a little before eleven o'clock ; but after his first sleep, which lasted about two hours, he quitted his bed to obtain an easier position on the floor, or upon three chairs ; and would then employ himself in reading the book on which he had been engaged during the day. Sometimes, indeed often, the laudanum, large as the doses had become, did not sufficiently neutralize his pain to remove the necessity for again quitting his bed.* In these cases he would again put on the dress prepared to keep him adequately warm, and resume his reading. On Sunday mornings, as soon as he awoke, it was usual with him to say, "This is the Lord's day. This is the day the Lord hath made ; let us rejoice and be glad in it." And he often impressed it on his family that they ought " not to think their own thoughts," or " to find their own pleasure," on that day. He did not pursue any plan of training or of discipline with his chil- dren. He was remarkabl)^ affectionate and indulgent ; but he did nothing systematically to correct defects, to guide or excite their minds. Now and then he recommended his daughters to read some particular book; one, perhaps, that he had himself read with peculiar satisfaction : but beyond this there do not appear to have been any direct, specific endeav- ours to impart knowledge, or in any uniform manner to inculcate religious principles. When, however, any of his children were about to quit home for a short time, it was his practice to summon them to his study, exhort them, and pray with them. One of his daughters, on writing to a friend after his death, says, " Well I remember that, when I was a child, on leaving home for a few days, or on going to school, he would call me into the study, give me the tenderest advice, make me to kneel down by him at the same chair, and then, both bathed in tears, would he fer- vently supplicate the Divine protection for me. This, I believe, he did with regard to all of us on leaving home, while young." Their minds were also often deeply impressed by hearing him, as they passed his study door, commending them, by name, with the utmost fervency, to God, and entreating those blessings for each which, in his judgment, each most needed. f Periodical private fasts, such as those which he observed at Leices- ter, he continued to observe at Bristol, makmg them seasons of extra- ordinary self-examination, prayer, and renewed dedication to God. He was not in the habit of keeping a regular journal, nor, generally speak- ing, did he approve of it, from a persuasion that it "tempted to an artificial tone of expression which did not accord with the actual state of the heart. But on some solemn occasions he made a short note in one of his memorandum books, containing hints of texts, &c. * For more than twenty years he had not been able to pass a whole night in bed. When this is borne in mind, it is truly surpri.sing that he wrote and published so much ; nay, that he did not sink into dotage before he wa.s fifty years of age. I His habit of oral, audible, private prayer rested upon the ronviction that silent prayer waa apt to degenerate into niediiation, while, from our compound nature, a man cannot but be' affected by the sound of his own voice, wlien adtquuiely exi>res.siug what is really felt. AT BRISTOL. 69 Thus : "New-year's day, January 1st, 1826. I have begun the year with a sincere resolution, in the strength of Divine grace, to devote myself wholly and entirely to God : but, knowing my extreme weakness and corruption, I dare place no dependence whatever on my own resolutions. I have, on many occasions, found them unstable as water. I can only cast myself on the mercy of my God, and cry, with the Psalmist, 'Hold Thou me up, and I shall be safe.' 0 Thou most holy and merciful Lord God, I beseech Thee to take up thine abode in my heart, and shape me entirely anew. Amen. Amen." Again, on his birth-day, 1828. "This day I commence my 64th [65th] year. What reason have I to look with shame and humiliation on so long a tract of years spent to so little purpose ! Alas ! I am ashamed of my barrenness and unprofit- ableness. Assist me, O Lord, by Thy grace, that I may spend the short residue of my days in a more entire devotion to Thy service. It is my purpose, in the strength of Divine grace, to take a more minute inspection into the state of my heart, and the tenor of my actions, and to make such observations and memorandums as circumstances may suggest. But to Thee, O Lord, do I look for all spiritual strength, to keep Thy way, and do Thy will." Mr. Hall still evinced a peculiar solicitude for the welfare of the poorer members of his flock, and greatly lamented his incapacity, from the loss of locomotive energy, to seek them out in their own habitations, and associate with them frequently, as he had done with the poor at Cam- bridge and Leicester. He publicly expressed his concern that some plan was not arranged for his meeting them in small parties at speci- fied times, and assured them of the cordial readiness with which his part of such a plan should be executed. This, I believe, was not accomplished. The indications of infirm age now rapidly exhibited themselves, but happily were unaccompanied by a decaying mind or a querulous spirit. The language of his conduct and of his heart corresponded with that of the pious ancient, " Lord, give me patience now, and ease here- after !" If tempests come they will not last long, but soon will be hushed into an eternal calm. His inabihty to take exercise, on account of the gradual increase of his complaint, gave rise, about six years before_his death, to another disorder, formidable in its nature and fatal in its issue. The indications of a plethoric habit became more and more apparent. " Thus," adopt- ing the language of Mr. Addington, " the system of the blood-vessels had a laborious duty to perform in circulating their fluid, which, for want of the full aid of muscular exertion, could not be equally dis- tributed. The smaller ones on the surface of the body, and in the extremities, never appeared to derive a sufficient quantity of blood to furnish the usual proportion of animal heat, while the large trunks in the interior became overloaded. The natural consequence was, that the heart, on whose power the propulsion of the blood to the extremi- ties depends, being over stimulated and oppressed by the condition of the large vessels, became weakened; and, occasionally failing iii the regular and equable transmission of the blood, would produce a sen- sation of distress in the region of the chest." The malady, thus pro- duced, becoming more and more severe, Mr. Hall, when in London in 1828, was persuaded by his friends to take the advice of an emi- nent physician : from which, however, no permanent good resulted. By the summer of 1830, the disorder had increased so seriously that his medical friends at Bristol recommended a suspension of his pastoral duties for a few weeks, that he might try the eff"ect of a total change of air and scene. He therefore spent some time at Coleford, in the forest of Dean, in the society of his old and valued friend the Rev. Isaiah Birt. He also 7e MEMOIR OF ROBERT HALL. spent a few weeks at Cheltenham. At both these places he preached with his accustomed talent ; and his general appearance, too clearly indicating that the close of his ministerial labours was at hand, gave a deeper impression to his instructions and exhortations. When absent from home he was in the habit of writing to his children. My narrow limits have prevented my giving extracts from any of those letters ; but I am induced to insert part of one, written at this time to his son, who had been placed with a respectable chymist and druggist at Bristol, in the hope that it may be useful to other youths in similar circumstances. "My dear Robert, " 15ih October, \sm. *' I have long designed to write to you, that I might communicate to you some hints of advice, which I could convey more easily, and, perhaps, more eliectually, than by speaking. " I need not tell you, my dear boy, how solicitous I am for your welfare in both worlds, and how often I have borne you on my heart in my secret addresses to that Father which is in heaven. But, alas ! the prayers of parents for their children will avail nothing, if they are not induced to pray for themselves, ' for every one must give an account of himself to God.' I hope, my dear child, you do not live in the entire neglect of this most important duty : let me entreat you to attend to it constantly, and never to begin or end a day without it. Daily entreat the pardon of your sins, for the sake of the Redeemer, and earnestly implore the assistance of his grace, to enable you to resist temptation, and to live in such a manner as shall prepare you for a blessed immortality. Pray do not neglect, at the same time, to read a portion, longer or shorter, of the Word of God. ' Wherewith shall a young man cleanse his ways, but by taking heed thereto according to thy Word V " I hope, my dear Robert, you will continue in your present situation. On the supposition of your doing so (and I can do nothing better for you), let me entreat you to make it your constant care to conciliate the esteem of Mr. C , which you will certainly do, if you cheerfully comply with his orders, and make his interest your own. Nothing injures the character of a young man more than restlessness and fickleness ; nothing, on the contrary, secures his credit and com- fort like a steady and persevering attention to the duties of his station. Every situation has its inconveniences and its difficulties ; but time and perseverance will surmount the one, and make you almost insensible of the other. The con- sciousness of having overcome difficulties, and combated trials successfully, will afford you, in the issue, a far higher satisfaction than you can ever hope to obtain by recoiling from them. " Combat idleness in all its forms ; nothing is so destructive as idle habits, nothing so useful as habits of industry. * ** ***** " Never demean yourself by contending about trifles ; yield in things of small iBoment to the inclinations and humours of your companions. In a word, my dear boy, make yourself amiable. " Fear God and love your fellow-creatures, and be assured you will find ' Wisdom's ways, ways of pleasantness, and her paths, paths of peace.' " To say all in one word, ' If you are wise, my heart shall rejoice, even mine.' "lam " Your affectionate father, "Robert Hall."* On Mr. Hall's return to Bristol towards the end of October, hopes were entertained that his health was improved, and his strength recruited ; but tliey were only of short duration. The spasmodic affec- tion of the chest occurred with increasing frequency, and in a more * The youth to whom this letter was addressed went abroad soon after the decease of his father, and intelhgencc of his death has been received since these sheets were prepared for the presa AT BRISTOL. 71 alarming character. In one instance, on tlie 1st of .lanuary, 1831, the attack was so severe as to threaten immediate dissohition. It passed off, however, as former attacks had done, on taking Mood from the arm ; and soon afterward he returned to spend the remainder of the evening with the friends whom he had left when the par- oxysm came on ; and in his usual cheerful and happy spirit took his ordinary share, and evinced an undiminished interest, in the conver- sation. The morning of that day had been signalized by the extraordinary pathos which he imparted to the religious services, at a prayer-meeting, held, according to annual custom, in the vestry at Broadmead. The intensity of his devotional feelings, and the fervour of his supplications in behalf of the assembled congregation, as well as the glowing affection and deep solemnity with which he addressed them, as he reviewed the past dispensations of Providence, and anticipated some of the probable events of the year now opening upon them, both in relation to them and himself, excited the strongest emotion, and, in connexion with the events that immediately followed, made an indelible impression upon their minds : nearly all his subsequent addresses, whether on the Sunday or the week-day evening services, partook, more or less, of the same pathetic and solemnly anticipatory character. One of the most impres- sive of these, of which many of the congregation retain a vivid recollection, was delivered on the morning of Sunday, January 16th. The text from which he preached was, Deuteronomy xxxiii. 25: " Thy shoes shall be iron and brass ; and as thy days, so shall thy strength be." In this discourse he seemed to be preparing his people and himself for that event by which they were to be deprived of their invaluable pastor, and he to be free-d from anguish and sorrow : when his soul, liberated from its chain, and clothed in the Redeemer's righteousness, was to go forth, " first into liberty, then into glory." A highly valued correspondent,* whose communications greatly enrich this volume, enables me to present the following sunmiary of Mr. Hall's application or improvement ; which, from its occasion, as well as its excellence, cannot but be read with lively interest. "Improvement. ]. Take no thought, no anxious, distressing, harassing thought for the morrow ; suffer not your minds to be torn asunder by doubt or apprehension. Consider, rather, what is the ■present will of God, and rest satisfied and content ; without anticipating evils which may never arrive. " Do not heighten your present sorrows by a morbid imagination. You know- not what a day may bring forth. The future is likely to be helter than you expect, as well as worse. The real victory of Christians arises from attenlion to present duty. This carries them from strength to strength. " Some are alarmed at the thought of death ; they say, How shall I meet the agonies of dissolution ? But when you are called to die, you will, if among God's children, receive dying consolation. Be satisfied if you have the strength to live to God, and God will support you when you come to die. Some fear persecution, lest, at such a season, they should 'make shipwreck of faith and of a good conscience :' ' As thy day is, such shall thy strength he.' " 2. Consider to what it is we owe our success. If we are nearer our salvation than when we believed, let us not ascribe it to ourselves, to our own arm, but to the grace of God : ' Not I, but the grace of God with me,' enabling me to sustain, and to conquer. If we continue, it is ' because we have obtained help of God :' we are ' kept by his mighty power unto salvation.' In all our fufCerings, if Christians, we are perpetually indebted to Divine succour. * TUe Rev. Thomas Grinfield, A.M., of Clifton, near BristoL 72 MEMOIR OF ROBERT HALL. " 3. Let us habitually look up to God, in the exercise of faith and prayer. Instead of yielding ourselves to dejection, let us plead the promises, and flee to the Divine \\^ord. He has been accustomed to sustain the faithful : and He is ' the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever.' He is never weary : look to Him : ' they that wait on liim shall mount up with eagles' wings ; run, and not be weary ; walk, and not faint.' Go to Him in prayer, — cling to His strength, — lay hold on His arm. You have a powerful Redeemer : ' be strong in the power of His roicht !' Draw down the succours of His grace, which will enable you to go on, * from strength to strength,' until you appear before God in Zion." The last service at Bfoadmead in which Mr. Hall took any part was the church meeting (when only the members of the church are assem- bled) on Wednesday the 9th of February. His closing prayer on that occasion is spoken of as most spiritual and elevated, exhibiting in its highest manifestation the peculiar union of humiUty, benevolence, and fervour, by which his devotional exercises had very long been char- acterized. On the next evening, Thursday, the usual monthly sermon preparatory to the administration of the Lord's Supper was to have been delivered; but Mr. Hall's discharge of this duty was prevented by a severe attack .of the complaint in his chest, which came on just after he had retired to his study to prepare for that service. This was the commencement of the series of paroxysms which terminated in his dissolution. " Early on the Sunday morning (I again quote one of the letters of my esteemed friend Mr. Addington) being requested to see him, I found him in a con- .dition of extreme suffering and distress. The pain in his back had been uncom- monly severe during the whole night, and compelled him to multiply, at very short intervals, the doses of his anodyne, until he had taken no less than 125 grains of solid opium, equal to more than 3,000 drops, or nearly four ounces, of laudanum ! ! This was the only instance in which I had ever seen him at all overcome by the soporific quality of the medicine ; and it was, even then, hard to determine whether the effect was owing so much to the quantity administered as to the unusual cir- cumstance of its not having proved, even for a short time, an effectual antago- nist to the pain it was expected to relieve. " Inured as he was to the endurance of pain, and unaccustomed to any strong expression of complaint, he was forced to confess that his present agony was unparalleled by any thing in his former experience. The opium having failed to assuage his pain, he was compelled to remain in the horizontal posture ; but while in this situation, a violent attack in his chest took place, which in its turn ren- dered an upright position of the body no less indispensable. The struggle that ensued between tliese opposing and alike urgent demands became most appalling, and it was difhcult to imagine that he could survive it ; especially, as from the extreme prostration of vital energy, the remedy by which the latter of those affec- tions had often been mitigated, viz. bleeding, could not be resorted to. Powerful stimulants, such as brandy, opium, ether, and ammonia, were the only resources ; and, in about an hour from my arrival, we had the satisfaction of finding him greatly relieved and expressing his lively gratitude to God. " The whole of his demeanour throughout this agonizing crisis, as well as during the remainder of the day, a day of much suffering, exhibited, in a striking degree, the efficacy of Christian faith and hope, in supporting and tranquillizing the mind of their possessor, in a season of extreme and torturing affliction. His language abounded with expressions at once of the deepest humility and of thank- fulness to God for his ' unspeakable mercies,' — together with affectionate acknow- lodgments of the care and assiduities of his family and the friends around him." From this time the paroxysms increased rapidly both in frequency and severity; and Mr. Hall, in tlic intervals between their occurrence, was usually so weak and exhausted as seldom to be able to converse with those around him. His expressions, however, insulated and broken as they often were, proved that he was able fully to exercise tliat trust in God which is the grand principle of religion, and that thus trusting in LAST ILLNESS. 73 him, his soul was kept in peace. No murmuring, no language of irrita- bility escaped from his lips. It is not my intention to dwell upon the melancholy detail of the ten days previous to his death. I will only record a few such expressions as serve to show that, acute as were his sufferings, God left him not without support. Thus, when he first announced his apprehension that he should never again minister among his people, he immediately added, " But I am in God's hands, and I rejoice that I am. 1 am God's creature, at his dis- posal, for life or death ; and that is a great mercy." Again, " I have not one anxious thought, either for life or death. What I dread most are dark days. But I have had none yet : and I hope I shall not have any." Again, " I fear pain more than death. If I could die easily, I think I would rather go than stay ; for I have seen enough of the world, and I have an humble hope." On another occasion, a friend having said to him, ' This God will be our God,' he replied, " Yes, he will, — he will be our guide even unto death." On recovering from one of his severe paroxysms, he adverted to the affectionate attentions of his beloved wife and daughters, as well as his numerous comforts, and exclaimed, " What a mercy it is to have so many alleviations ! I might have been deprived of all these comforts ; — I might have been in poverty; I might have been the most abject wretch on the face of the earth." During one night, in which the attacks were a little mitigated in num- ber and severity, he frequently expressed the most lively gratitude to God, as well as his simple, unshaken reliance on his Saviour ; and repeated nearly the whole of Robinson's beautiful hymn. " Come, thou Fount of every blessing ! Tune my heart to sing ihy grace; Streams of mercy never ceasing Call for songs of endless praise I" &c. The same night, under one of the paroxysms, he said to the friend who was with him, " Why should a living man complain ? a man for the punishment of his sins 1 I have not complained, have I, sirl — and I won't complain." When Dr. Prichard was invited to join Mr. Chandler and Mr. Adding- ton in consultation, on his arrival Mr. Hall arose and received him so much in his wonted cordial, courteous manner, as, at the first moment, almost to check the apprehension of danger. On the evening of the same day, he expatiated on the mercy of God in bringing him to close his life at Bristol. His prevailing kindness was evinced throughout, in his solicitude for the comfort of those who sat up with him at night, or who remained in the house to be called to his assistance if necessary. He also exhorted the members of his family, and others occasionally present, to make religion the chief, the incessant concern ; urging especially upon some of the young among his friends the duty of openly professing their attachment to Christ and his cause. When he was a little recovered from one of his severe paroxysms, " I asked him," says Mr. Chandler, "whether he felt much pain. He replied that his sufferings were great : 'but what,' he added, 'are my suflerings to the sufferings of Christ 1 his sufferings were infinitely greater : his sufferings were complicated : God has been very merciful to me — very merciful : I am a poor creature — an unworthy creature ; but God has been very kind — very merciful.' He then alluded to the character of the sufferings of crucifixion, remarking how intense and insufferable 74 ME'MOIR OF ROBERT HALL. they must have been, and asked many minute questions on what I might suppose was the process by which crucifixion brought about death. He particularly inquired respecting the effect of pain — the nervous irritation — the thirst — the oppression of breathing — the disturbance of the circulation — and the hurried action of the heart, till the conversation gradually brought him to a consideration of his own distress ; when he again reverted to the lightness of his sufferings when con- trasted with those of Christ. He spoke of our Lord's ' enduring the contradiction of sinners against himself — of the ingratitude and unkindness he received from those for whom he went about doing good — of the combination of the mental and corporeal agonies sustained on the cross — the length of time during which our Lord hung — the exhaustion occasioned, &c. He then remarked how differently he had been situated ; that though he had endured as much or more than fell to the lot of most men, yet all had been in mercy. I here remarked to him, that with most persons the days of ease and comfort were far more numerous than those of pain and sorrow. He replied, ' But I have been a great sufferer in my time : it is, however, generally true : the dispensations of God have been merciful to me.' He then observed, that a contemplation of the sufferings of Christ was the best anti- dote against impatience under any troubles we might experience ; and recom- mended me to reflect much on this subject when in pain or distress, or in expecta- tion of death.* " During the whole of this severe illness, he read much in Campbell's translation of the Gospels ; and, at intervals, one of his daughters read to him, from this ver- sion, his favourite to the last. On the morning of the 21st, the day on which he died, he had it laid before him, as usual, and read it himself in his ordinary recum- bent attitude." Mrs. Hall, in the course of this morning, remarking to him that he appeared better, and expressing her hopes that he would recover ; he replied, " Ah ! my dear, let us hope for the best, and prepare for the worst." He then stated his opinion that this day would be critical. When his medical attendants met in consultation, a little afternoon, he seemed rather better ; and Mr. Chandler left him, between one and two reclining on the sofa, leaning on his elbow with as much muscular energy as ever. " Before leaving him," he remarks, " I explained to him the plan of proceeding to be observed ; on which he bowed, saying, that whatever we wished he would comply with, he would do whatever we desired ; begging that he might not inter- fere with my duties to other patients, and adding that he thought he should be very comfortable till my return. " In a very short time, and before I had reached home, I was summoned to behold the last agonizing scene of this great and extraordinary mnn. His diffi- culty of breathing had suddenly increased to a dreadful and final paroxysm. It seems this last paroxysm came on more gradually than was usual with those which preceded. Mr. Hall, finding his breathing becoming much worse, first rose more on his elbow, then raised his body, supporting himself with his hand, till the increasing agitation obliged him to rise completely on the sofa, and to place his feet in hot water — the usual means he resorted to for relief in every paroxysm. Mrs. Hall, observing a fixation of his eyes, and an unusual expression on his coun- tenance, and indeed in his whole manner, became alarmed by the sudden impres- sion that he vs'as dying ; and exclaimed in great agitation, ' This can't be dying !■" when he replied, ' It is death — it is death — death ! Oh the sufferings of this body !' Mrs. Hall then asking him, ' But are you comfortable in your mind?' he imme- diately answered, ' Very comfortable — very comfortable !' and exclaimed, ' Come, Lord Jesus — Come.' He then hesitated, as if incapable of bringing out the last word ; and one of his daughters, involuntarily, as it were, anticipated him by saying, ' Quickly !' on which her departing father gave her a look expressive of the most complacent delight. " On entering his room, I found him sitting on the sofa, surrounded by his lamenting family ; with one foot in the hot water, and the other spasmodically * Chandler's Autbcnilc Accoimf, p. 28 HIS DEATH— CONCLUSION. 75 grasping the edge of the bath ; his frame waving in violent, ahnost convulsive heavings, sufficiently indicative of the process of dissolution. I hastened, though despairingly, to administer such stimulants as might possibly avert the threatening termination of life ; and as I sat by his side for this purpose he threw^ his arm over my shoulders for support, with a look of evident satisfaction that I was near him. He said to me, ' I am dying : death is come at last : all will now be useless.' As I pressed upon him draughts of stimulants, he intimated that he would take them if I wished ; but he believed all was useless. On my asking him if he suffered much, he replied, ' Dreadfully.' The rapidly increasing gasping soon overpowered his ability to swallow, or to speak, except in monosyllables, few in number, which I could not collect ; but, whatever might be the degree of his suffering (and great it must have been), there was no failure of his mental vigour or composure. Indeed, so perfect was his consciousness, that in the midst of these last agonies, he intimated to me very shortly before the close, with his accustomed courteousness, a fear lest he should fatigue me by his pressure ; and when his family, one after another, gave way in despair, he followed them with sympathizing looks, as they were obliged to be conveyed from the room. This was his last voluntary movement ; for immediately a general convulsion seized him, and he quickly expired."* O 1 how inconceivably blessed is the change, when, at the moment of utmost agony, the soul enters the regions of endless joy ; passes from the land of the dying to the land of the living ; from the society of saints to the blissful presence of the King of saints, where know- ledge, illumination, purity, and love flow for ever and ever from the Inexhaustible Fountain ! Such is the ineffable reward which awaits all the faithful followers of the Lamb. " Father, I will that they also whom thou hast given me be with me where I am, that they may behold my glory." Nothing, I feel, would be more presumptuous than for me to attempt to portray fully the literary, intellectual, or religious character of my inestimable friend. f I have known, and still know, many whom 1 greatly value, many whom I cordially love and admire, many from whom I have learned much and might have learned more, but for my incapacity to receive what they were ready to impart ; but I have known none in whom so many elements of mental and moral greatness were so hap- pily combined as in Mr. Hall ; none whose converse and whose diver- sified knowledge have so constantly interested, charmed, and instructed me ; none whose transcendent qualities excited so high and overawing a veneration, yet none whose humility and cordiality, exquisitely blending with genius and piety, inspired so unhesitating a confidence. His profound acquaintance with the mind and heart, and his corres- ponding faculty of tracing and separating the springs of human action, gave him an unusual influence with the present race as a sacred orator : while he seems to be one of the few men whose creative intellect, and whose singular ability in the development of religious truth, and the illustration and confirmation of many principles of universal and in- creasing interest, qualify them to operate with as extensive an influence in moulding the intellectual and moral character of succeeding gene- rations. His varied and extraordinary powers, thus diffusively applied to the most momentous stibjects, will be seen from his " Works," which are now collected that they may constitute his noblest monument, the most enduring tribute to his memory. * See Note D, Appendix. I For some interesUng sketches which, together, will assist- in correctly estimating Mr. Hall's character, see Note E, Appendix. APPENDIX. NOTE A.— [See page 35.] MISCELLANEOUS GLEANINGS FROM MR. HALl's CONVERSATIONAL REMARKS. I AM perfectly well aware that no memoranda can convey an adequate idea of the vivacity, originality, and brilliancy of Mr. Hall's conversational powers. It was usually easy to remember the sentiments which he expressed, and sometimes the images, whether sportive or tasteful, by which he illustrated them ; but the beautiful language in which his remarks in conversation were clothed could seldom be recalled, except when he fully communicated his meaning in a very short but happily turned phrase. This note, therefore, while it may serve to record some of his sentiments and opinions on interesting topics, must be understood as giving a very faint notion of his manner of expressing himself, except in those cases where the language, at once brief, clear, and characteristic, fixed itself indelibly upon the memory. The connected series, first presented, has been kindly transmitted by the Rev. Robert Balmcr, of Berwick-upon-Tweed, and is selected from his recollections of the substance of three or four conversations which he had with Mr. Hall in the years 1819 and 1823. In the course of some remarks on various theological writers of our own times, he said, " Dr. Smith is the best Biblical critic with whom I am personally acquainted ; and I should think him one of the most learned theologians now alive." On my asking, if he did not consider Archbishop Magee superior in ability, and equal in learning, to Dr. Smith 1 he replied, with his usual decision, " Not nearly equal in learning, sir ; I do not suppose that Archbishop Magee knows any thing about the German critics, with whom Dr. Smith is intimately acquainted, and from whom, notwithstanding all their absurdity and impiety, much may unquestionably be learned. There is one thing," he added, "in Dr. Smith's work, much to be lamented ; and that is, the tone of excessive lenity maintained towards his opponents. In consequence of this, his reasonings will not produce an effect proportioned to their intrinsic force ; and his readers are tempted to regard the opinions which he refutes with far less horror than they deserve. The proper tone in theological controversy is, I imagine, somewhere between Bishop Hors- ley's intolerable arrogance and asperity, and Dr. Smith's unwarrantable softness and urbanity." On informing him that I had been perplexed with doubts as to the extent of the death of Christ, and expressing a wish to know his opinion, he replied, " There, sir, my sentiments give me the advantage of you ; for on that point I entertain no doubts whatever: I believe firmly in 'general redemption;' I often preach it, and I consider the fact that ' Christ died for all men' as the only basis that can support the universal offer of the gospel." — " But you admit the doctrine of election, which necessarily implies limitation. Do you not think that election and particular redemption are inseparably connected !" — " I believe firmly," he rejoined, " in election, but I do not think it involves particular redemption ; I con- sider the sacrifice of Christ as a remedy, not only adapted, but intended for all, NOTE A.— CONVERSATIONAL REMARKS. 77 and as placing all in a salvable state ; as removing all barriers to their salvation, except such as arise from their ovrn perversity and depravity. But God fore- saw or knew that none would accept the remedy, merely of themselves, and therefore, by what may be regarded as a separate arrangement, he resolved to glorify his mercy, by effectually applying salvation to a certain number of our race, through the agency of his Holy Spirit. I apprehend, then, that the limiting clause implied in election refers not to the purchase but to the application of redemption." This representation seemed to me, at the time, to be encum- bered with considerable difficulties ; and I was not sure that I correctly appre- hended it. Not choosing, however, to request Mr. H. to repeat or elucidate his statements, I asked him if he could refer me to any book where I should find what he regarded as the Scripture doctrine on the subject, stated and illustrated. He referred me to a book to which Dr. Smith, of Homerton, had, not many days before, referred me, in answer to a similar question, — Bellamy's "True Religion delineated." In the course of our conversation respecting the extent of Christ's death, Mr. Hall expatiated at considerable length on the number and variety of the Scripture expressions, in which it seems to be either explicitly asserted or necessarily implied, that it was intended, not for the elect exclusively, but for mankind generally, such as " the world," " all," " all men," " every man," &c. He made some striking remarks on the danger of twisting such expressions from their natural and obvious import, and on the absurdity of the interpretations put on them by some of the advocates of particular redemption. He mentioned, espe- cially, the absurdity of explaining " the world," John iii. 16, to signify the elect world, as the text would then teach that some of the elect may not believe. He noticed, further, that the doctrine of general redemption was not only asserted expressly in many texts, but presupposed in others, such as " Destroy not with thy meat," &c., and " Denying the Lord that bought them ;" and that it was incor- porated with other parts of the Christian system, particularly with the universal offers and invitation of the gospel. On the question of church government, Mr. H.'s sentiments seemed to me undecided, and somewhat inconsistent ; and by many they would have been regarded as latitudinarian. He expressed his doubts whether any one form or model was delineated in the New Testament, as obligatory in all ages and in all circumstances ; and said that he was much disposed to adopt the maxim, " What- ever is best administered is best." In another conversation, when mention was made of a church, which, along with its minister, had been guilty of a scandalous irregularity in a matter of discipline, I stated what would be done in such circum- stances among Presbyterians, and put the queftion, Will the neighbouring churches and ministers not interfere 1 Mr. H. intimated that they ought to remon- strate and advise ; but that any claim to jurisdiction would, in his apprehension, be altogether unwarrantable ; adding, that the independence of churches appeared to him a principle expressly sanctioned by the Word of God. With regard to the question of " Terms of Communion," we had repeated con- versations. On this subject he spoke with uncommon interest and animation ; and seemed surprised at the arguments of those who were opposed to his views. I recollect, in particular, the eftect produced on him, when I stated that I had heard Dr. Lawson, of Selkirk, declare, that he would not admit a Roman Catholic, not even Fenelon or Pascal, to the table of the Lord : Mr. H., who had been previously reclining on three chairs, instantly raised himself on his elbow, and spoke without intermission and with great rapidity for nearly a quarter of an hour; expatiating on the amazing absurdity and presumption of rejecting those whom Christ receives, and of refusing to hold communion on earth with those with whom we hope to associate in heaven. During all this time his manner was ex- ceedingly vehement, his other arm was in continual motion, and his eyes, natu- rally most piercing, were lighted up with unusual brilliancy. It was interesting and amusing to observe how Mr. Hall's exquisite sensibility to literary beauty intermingled with and qualified the operation of his principles and leanings, both as a Christian and dissenter. Of this I recollect various instances ; but shall give only one. While conversing respecting Archbishop Magee, his 78 APPENDIX, talents, scntimenta, conduct, &c., I quoted, as a proof of his high-church princi- ples, a remaric from a charge then newly published : it was to this eflect : That the Roman Catholics have a church without a religion ; the dissenters have a religion without a church ; but the Establishment has both a church and a religion. Mr. Hall had not heard the remark before, and was exceedingly struck with it. " That, sir," he exclaimed, smiling, " is a beautiful saying. I have not heard so fine an observation for a long time. It is admirable, sir." — " You admire it, I pre- sume, for its point, not for its truth." — H. " I admire it, sir, for its plausibility and cleverness. It is false, and yet it seems to contain a mass of truth. It is an excellent stone for a churchman to pelt with." After speaking of Antinomians, of whom it appeared there were then several in the neighbourhood of Leicester : " Pray, sir," said he, " have you got any Antino- mians in Scotland V — " None," I replied, " who avow themselves siich. There are individuals in our congregations who have what I consider a morbid aversion ta practical preaching, and to a minute enforcement of duty ; but almost all our people who know and care any thing about religion will tell you, that although the believer is delivered from the law as a covenant of works, he is subject to it as a rule of life." — '* That," said Mr. H. " is precisely what I expected. Your minis- ters and your people have too much information to be ensnared by such impieties. Antinomianism is a monster which can live only in darkness ; bring light on it> and it expires." The following opinions were expressed by Mr. H. respecting various writers in theology. I give them in the form of dialogue, inserting, of course, such ques- tions and remarks of my own as led to his observations. Let it be remembered at the same time, that they are only fragments, as, in many instances, I do not now recollect more than a third or fourth part of what was said. B. "May I ask, sir, what writers you would most recommend to ayoung minis- ter?"— H. " Wh}', sir, 1 feel very incompetent to give directions on that head ; I can only say that I have learned far more from John Howe than from any other author I ever read. There is an astonishing magnificence in his conceptions. He had not the same perception of the beautiful as of the sublime ; and hence his endless subdivisions." — B. " That was the fault of his age." — H. " In part, sir, but he has more of it than many of the writers of that period, than Barrow, for example, who was somewhat earlier. There was, I think, an innate inaptitude in Howe's mind for discerning minute graces and proprieties, and hence his sentences are often long and cumbersome. Still he was unquestionably the greatest of the puritan divines." After adverting to several of Howe's works, Mr. H. said, in reference to his " Blessedness of the Righteous," " Perhaps Baxter's 'Saint's Rest' is fitted to make a deeper impression on the majority of readers. Baxter enforces a par- ticular idea with extraordinary clearness, force, and earnestness. His appeals to the conscience are irresistible. Howe, again, is distinguished by calmness, self-pos- session, majesty, and comprehensiveness ; and for my own part, I decidedly prefer him to Baxter. I admire, exceedingly, his ' Living Temple,' his sermon on the ♦ Redeemer's Tears,' &c. ; but, in my opinion, the best thing he ever wrote is his defence of the sincerity of the gospel offer. I refer to the treatise called the ' Reconcilcalileness of God's Prescience of the Sins of Men, with his Counsels, Exhortations, and whatever other Means he used to prevent them.' This I regard as the most profound, the most philosophical, and the most valuable of all Howe's writings." B. " Do you think highly of Dr. Owen 1" — H. " No, sir, by no means. — Have you read much of Owen, sir ; do you admire him V — B. " I have read his Pre- liminary Exercitations to his great work on the Hebrews ; his exposition of par- ticular verses here and there; his book on church government ; and some of his smaller treatises. I do not greatly admire him, nor have I learned much from him." — H. " You astonish me, sir, by your patience. You have accomplished an Herculean undertaking in reading Owen's Preliminary Exercitations. To me he is intolerably heavy and prolix." — B. " I do think, sir, there are many valuable ideas in his writings ; but, as a reasoner, he seems to me singularly illogical ; for he often takes for granted the thing to be proved." — H. " I quite concur with the NOTE A.— CONVERSATIONAL REMARKS. 79 latter part of your statement. As a reasoner, Dr. Owen is most illogical, for he almost always takes for granted what he ought to prove ; while he is always proving what he ought to take for granted ; and, after a long digression, he con- cludes very properly with, ' This is not our concernment,' and returns to enter on something still farther from the point." I remarked that Jonathan Edwards's theory was opposed to our consciousness and our indestructible feelings ; for, whenever we blamed ourselves for having acted wrong, we had an irresistible belief, not only that we could have acted other- wise if we had chosen, but that we could have willed otherwise. To all this Mr. H. readily assented, adding some remarks respecting two of Edwards's distinc- tions : the distinction between liberty to will, and liberty to act according to our will ; and that between natural and moral necessity. Respecting the one of these (I do not precisely remember which) Mr. H. made the following ludicrous but characteristic observations. " That distinction, sir, lies at the basis of Edwards's theory ; but it is not ori- ginal. It is to be found in the works of Dr. Owen : I think it certain that Edwards found it there, buried, Hke the rest of Owen's ideas, amid a heap of rubbish ; and, finding it there, he did what Owen had not strength of arm to do, took a firm grasp of it, and dragged it into light. It proved a monster, and ought to have been smothered ; but Edwards found it would be useful to frighten the enemies of Divine sovereignty and free grace, and therefore, instead of smothering it, he nursed it." Mr. Hall made some inquiry respecting Dr. Henry, the historian, once a minis- ter in Berwick, and afterward colleague of Dr. Macknight, the commentator, in one of the churches in Edinburgh: I informed him, that from all I had ever heard, I believed Dr. Henry must have been a very dry and uninteresting preacher. This led to a reference to the well-known anecdote relative to these two indi- viduals ; according to which, the one when coming to church on a Sabbath morning, having got his clothes wet by a heavy rain, asked his colleague to officiate for him. "Go into the pulpit," said the other, "and you will be dry enough." Some doubt being expressed which of the two it was to whom this remark was made, Mr. H. observed, " I suppose, sir, it was applicable to both." Immediately checking himself, he added, " And yet, I should think, that to an intellectual audience, an audience that had any relish for Scripture exposition, Macknight must have been interesting, if the discourses which he preached resembled his published writings." — " Pray, sir," I said, "do you admire Macknight as a com- mentator?"— "Yes, sir," he replied, "I do, very much; I think it would be exceedingly difficult, indeed, to come after him in expounding the apostolic epistles. I admit, at the same time, that he has grievous deficiencies : there is a lamentable want of spirituality and elevation about him. He never sets his foot in the other world if he can get a hole to step into in this ; and he never gives a passage a meaning which would render it applicable and useful in all ages, if he can find in it any local or temporary allusion. He makes fearful havoc, sir, of the text on which you preached to-day. His exposition of it is inimitably absurd." The text referred to was Ephesians i. 8, " Wherein he hath abounded towards us in all wisdom and prudence ;" and the " wisdom and prudence" are explained by Macknight, not of the wisdom of God, as displayed in the scheme of redemp- tion, but of the wisdom and prudence granted to the apostles to enable them to discharge their office. Mr. Hall repeatedly referred to Dr. , and always in high admiration of his general character. The following are some remarks, respecting that extraordinary individual. " Pray, sir, did you ever know any man who had that singular faculty of repetition possessed by Dr. 1 Why, sir, he often reiterates the same thing ten or twelve times in the course of a few pages. Even Burke himself had not so much of that peculiarity. His mind resembles that optical instrument lately invented ; what do you call it 1" — B. " You mean, I presume, the kaleido- scope."— H. " Yes, sir, it is just as if thrown into a kaleidoscope. Every turn presents the object in a new and beautiful form ; but the object presented is still the same. Have you not been struck, sir, with the degree in which Dr. possesses this faculty I" — " Do you not think, sir," I replied, " that he has either 80 APPENDIX, far too much of this faculty, or that he indulges it to a faulty excess V — H. " Yes, sir, certainly ; his mind seems to move on hinges, not on wheels. There is incessant motion, but no progress. When he was at Leicester, he preached a most admirable sermon on the necessity of immediate repentance ; but, there were only two ideas in it, and on these his mind revolved as on a pivot." On metaphysics and moral philosophy we talked at great length ; but I cannot now give a tolerable specimen of his acute and eloquent remarks. One of his observations, however, I do remember, which struck me at the time as exceedingly just and happy. Much had bee-n said respecting the utility or inutility of meta- physical studies, and respecting the fact that they as yet had led to no useful dis- coveries. I made some such remark as this, that admitting such studies did not terminate in profitable discoveries, still they were advantageous as a field for cul- tivating and invigorating the mental powers. Mr. H. said, ^^ An arena, not a field Metaphysics yield no fruit. They are not a field, they are only an arena, to which a man who has got nothing to do may go down sometimes, and try his skill m intellectual gladiatorship. This, at present, is their chief recommendation." Of the literary characters respecting whom we conversed, there was none whom he praised so highly as his friend Sir James Mackintosh, and the following frag- ments will convey some idea of Mr. Hall's estimate of that distinguished and lamented person. " I know no man," he said repeatedly and emphatically, " equal to Sir James in talents. The powers of his mind are admirably balanced. He is defective only in imagination." At this last statement I expressed my sur- prise, remarking that I never could have suspected that the author of the eloquent oration for Peltier was deficient in fancy. " Well, sir," said Mr. H., " 1 don't wonder at your remark. The truth is, he has imagination, too ; but with him imagination is an acquisition rather than a faculty. He has, however, plenty of embellishment at command ; for his memory retains every thing. His mind is a spacious repository, hung round with beautiful images, and when he wants one he has nothing to do but reach up his hand to a peg, and take it down. But his images were not manufactured in his mind ; they were imported." — B. " If he be so defective in imagination, he must be incompetent to describe scenes and delineate characters vividly and graphically ; and I should apprehend, therefore, he will not succeed in writing history." — H. " Sir, I do not expect him to pro- duce an eloquent or interesting history. He has, I fear, mistaken his province. His genius is best adapted for metaphysical speculation ; but, had he chosen moral phili)sophy, he would probably have surpassed every living writer." — B. " I admired exceedingly some of his philosophical papers in the Edinburgh Review, his articles, for instance, on Madame de Stael's Germany, and on Dugald Stewart's Preliminary Dissertation ; but there seemed tome a heaviness about them, and I do think that Mr. Jeffrey could expound a metaphysical theory with more vivacity andelTect." — H. "With more vivacity, perhaps, but not with equal judgment or acuteness. He would not go so deep, sir ; I am persuaded that if Sir James Mackintosh had enjoyed leisure, and had exerted himself, he would have com- pletely outdone Jeffrey and Stewart, and all the metaphysical writers of our times." Of Dugald Stewart Mr. H. spoke slightingly ; and it seemed to me that he was somewhat prejudiced against that amiable and accomplished philosopher, in con- sequence of unfavourable reports which had reached him respecting Air. Stewart's religious sentiments. " He is," said Mr. H. " a pleasing, but a feeble writer. I would never compare him with any of our great metaphysicians ; with Male- branche, or Locke, or Berkeley, or even with Tucker. Reid had a more vigorous and original mind than Stewart ; and Campbell, I suspect, was superior to both. If Cam])l)ell had devoted his attention to mental philosophy, he could have done all that Reid or Stewart has accomplished ; but neither of them could have written the ' Preliminary Dissertations' to his work on the (Jospels. There is also too much egotism and parade about Dugald Stewart. He is always polishing away at the corner of a subject ; but lu- could not rear a system of his own." This comparison Mr. Hall followed out at considerable length, and in language exceedingly beautiful and magnificent ; which, however, I cannot now recall. With regard to Stewart's style, Mr. H. observed, " That it was unquestionably >:OTE A.— CONVERSATIONAL REMARKS. 81 one of the finest philosophical styles that ever was written ; that Mr. S. had carried embellishment farther into the region of metaphysics than any author that had preceded him ; and that his embellishment was invariably consistent with perfect sobriety of taste." Of Dr. Thomas Brown, Mr. Hall observed, " That he was a man of more genius, but less judgment, than his predecessor ; that his style, with all its beauties, was far inferior to Stewart's as a vehicle for philosophical speculation ; that it was deficient in clearness and precision ; and so exceedingly diffuse, that all that was valuable in the four volumes of his lectures might be condensed into one." I remarked that Dr. Brown was often the victim of his own ingenuity ; that, in point of candour, he was immeasurably inferior to Stewart ; that the former would never agree with any writer if he could possibly differ from him, and that the latter would never diii'er from any one if he could possibly agree with him. Mr. Hall acquiesced in substance in these remarks, and proceeded to comment on Dr. B.'s amazing boldness and originality. He characterized briefly several of his lectures, stating that those which had most deeply interested him, and which he thought among the best, were the " Lectures on the Lnmateriality and the Immutability of the Soul." Mr. H. mentioned that he had read a considerable portion of Kant's works. On my remarking that I knew nothing of that philosopher except from Dr. Thomas Brown's article upon him, in an early number of the Edinburgh Review, and from Madame de Stael's book on Germany ; that I should suppose his writings to be utterly unintelligible and uninteresting ; Mr. H. replied, " It is certainly no great loss to be ignorant of Kant's works. His philosophy is a system of skep- ticism." In answer to his question, " whether I had read much of Madame de Stael's works," I informed him that I had read her " Remarks on Rousseau," one of her novels, and her book on Germany. H. " Did you read her book on Ger- many from beginning to end V — B. " I did." — H. " I admire your patience more and more, sir." He added that he had looked into Madame de Stael's Germany ; that on finding some philosopher, a well-known idealist (I cannot at this moment recollect who it was), spoken of as an opponent of the ideal theory, he had thrown aside the book in disgust ; supposing that verj' little could be learned from a writer so ill-informed as to be capable of such a blunder. He seemed very reluctant to allow that many of her remarks were acute and ingenious ; and when something was said about the flights of her fanc}', he said, " that, for his part, he could not admire her flights, for to him she was generally invisible ; not because she ascended to a great height above the earth, but because she invariably selected a foggy atmosphere." To the preceding selections from Mr. Balmer's communication may be added a few of Mr. Hall's remarks, rapidly thrown off on various occasions, taken from the letters of different friends. On the return of the Bourbons to France, in 1814, a gentleman called upon Mr. Hall, in the expectation that he would express himself in terms of the utmost delight on account of that signal event. Mr. Hall said, " I am sorry for it, sir. The cause of knowledge, science, freedom, and pure religion on the Continent will be thrown back half a century ; the intrigues of the Jesuits will be revived ; and popery will be resumed in France with all its mummery, but with no power, except the power of persecution." This opinion was expressed about six weeks before the issuing of the pope's bull for the revival of the order of Jesuits in Europe, 7th August, 1814. A few years afterward, Mr. Hall, on an allusion being made to the battle of Waterloo, remarked, " I have scarcely thought of the unfulfilled prophecies since that event. It overturned all the interpretations which had been previously advanced by those who had been thought sound theologians, and gave new energy to the pope and the Jesuits, both of whom seemed rapidly coming to nothing, as the prediction seemed to teach. That battle, and its results, seemed to me to put back the clock of the world six degrees." Notwithstanding his decided sentiments as a whig and a reformer, he mani- fested through life a reverence for ancient institutions, rank, and iiluetriouB Vol. III.— G 82 APPENDIX, descent. He was present in Westminster Abbey at Handel's Commemoration, and saw the King (George HI.) stand up in one part of the performance of the Messiah, shedding tears. iVothing, he said, had ever atTected him more strontfly. " It seemed like a great act of national assent to the fundamental truths of religion." He was most accurately acquainted with the descents and dependencies of our principal noble families. More than once have I heard him, with affectionate respect, mention Dr. Ryder, the present Bishop of Lichfield, whom he had known as a pious and useful parish clergyman in the neighbourhood of Leicester. " He has not been injured," said Mr. H., " by promotion ; he is the same man as a bishop that he was as the laborious parish priest ; to such a bishop we may apply the apoca- lyptic title, ' an angel of the church.' We may say of him what 8t. John says of Demetrius, that he ' has good report of all men, and of the truth itself.'" Speaking of Mrs. H. More's writings (about twenty years ago), he eulogized them very highly. He thought that she and Mr. Wilberforce had done more for the cause of Christianity by writing than any other persons living. Somebody mentioned a review of one of her books in the , written by Miss . «i Miss , sir," said Mr. Hall, " Miss think of reviewing Mrs. More ! Sir, it is like throwing soft peas against a rock." On being asked if he had read the Life of Bishop Watson, then (in 1818) recently published, he replied that he had, and regretted it, as it had lowered his estimate of the bishop's character. Being asked why, he expressed his reluc- tance to enlarge upon the subject ; but added, " Poor man, I pity him ! He married public virtue in his early days, but seemed for ever afterward to be quar- relling with his wife." He did not like Dr. Gill as an author. When Mr. Christmas Evans was in Bristol, he was talking to Mr. Hall about the Welch language, which he said was very copious and expressive. " How I wish, Mr. Hall, that Dr. Gill's works had been written in Welch." — " I wish they had, sir ; I wish they had, with all my heart, for then I should never have read them. They are a continent of mud, sir." John Wesley having been mentioned, he said, " The most extraordinary thing about him was, that while he set all in motion, he was himself perfectly calm and phlegmatic : he was the quiescence of turbulence." He spoke of Whitfield as presenting a contrast in the mediocrity of his writings to the wonderful power of his preaching : of the latter there could be no doubt, however ; but it was of a kind not to be represented in writing ; " it is impossible to paint eloquence." Speaking of Mr. 's composition: "Yes, it is very eloquent, but equally cold ; it is thp lieanty of frost." " Poor Mr. ," a nsrvously modest man, " seems to beg pardon of all flesh for being in this world." Some one observing to Mr. Hall that his animation increased with his years — " Indeed : then I am like touchwood ; the more decayed, the easier fired." Lord Byron was mentioned. — " I tried to read Childe Harold, but could not get on, and gave it up." — " Have you read the fourth canto, sir, which is by far the best ?" — " Oh no, sir, I shall never think of trying." — " But, sir, independently of the mere poetry, it must be interesting to contemplate such a remarkable mind as Lord Byron's." — " It is well enough, sir, to have a general acquaintance with such a character ; but I know not why we should take pleasure in minutely inves- tigating deformity." NOTE B.— EXTRACTS FROM MACKINTOSH AND PARR, 83 NOTE B.— [See page 43.] QUOTATIONS FKOM THE WRITINGS OF SIR JAMES MACKINTOSH AND DR. PARR, RELATIVE TO MR. HALL. 1. Extracts from a Review of Mr. HaWs Sermon on Modern Infidelity, icritten hj Sir James Mackintosh. Published in the Monthly Review for February, 1800. As far as philosophy and eloquence can make a publication important, and as far as very peculiar circumstances can render it interesting, certainly no sermon of our times merits a more elaborate criticism than that of Mr. Hall. A new sect of infidels has arisen in this age, who, with a boldness unknown to their predecessors, not only reject religion as false, but condemn it &s pernicious. The great majority of former unbelievers were so far from denying its usefulness, that they represented it as an invention of statesmen for the very purpose of giving aid to morality and efficacy to the laws ; but some of our modern infidels declare open war against every principle and form of religion, natural as well as revealed, as hostile to morality, and therefore destructive of the happiness of the human race. This extravagant and detestable paradox, which long lay neglected in the forgotten volumes of Cardan and Spinoza, is now revived and disseminated by men who possess the dangerous art of making paradoxes popular. Notwith- standing its evident and monstrous absurdity, it has gained many proselytes on the continent of Europe ; and a few, we fear, even in this fortunate island ; which, as it was the first country that was seized with the disease of infidelity, was the first also which was complptely cured of that pestilential malady. Against this new sect a most vigorous and formidable attack is made in the sermon before us, by Mr. Hall, the pastor of a dissenting congregation at Cambridge ; who, in his preface, most earnestly dej)recates all cnntpntians hfitwpen different sects of Christians, in the presence of the cuuimon enemy ; and who speaks of his being a dissenter only as a motive for generous emulation, and for vying with the church in zeal and vigour in defence of our common Christianity, in imitation of the ablest and most virtuous dissenters of former times. " When at the distance of more than half a century, Christianity was assaulted by a Woolston, a Tmdal, and a Morgan, it was ably supported, both by clergy- men of the established church and writers among Protestant dissenters. The labours of a Clarke and a Butler were associated with those of a Doddridge, a Leland, and a Lardner, with such equal reputation and success as to make it evident that the intrinsic excellence of religion needs not the aid of external appendages ; but that, with or without a dowry, her charms are of sufficient power to fix and engage the heart." Happy will it be if this passage shall produce its proper effects both on the dis- senters and on the clergy of the establishment ; if it shall animate the former to a noble rivalship of exertion in the general cause of religion ; and if it shall dispose the latter to view the dissenters no longer with suspicion on account of theological differences of inferior moment, and of supposed political differences, but to regard them with the affection which is due to fellow Christians, and fellow-soldiers in the army of religion and of truth. Unfortunate animosities and fatal suspicions have arisen between them, from causes which were, perhaps, irresistible. Neither party, probably, is entirely blameless. If the dissenters, following the example of Mr. Hall, will sacrifice the pride of a sect to the cause of religion, they will at least have the merit of making a fair experiment on the temper of the church ; and it will be ascertained whether the established clergy of our days will receive the successors of Leland and Lardner as these illustrious men were received by the most distinguished prelates of their times. We have no doubt that the ex- periment would be successful, and that the result of such an amicable struggle would be a new triumph for Christianity, both in the defeat of her enemies, and in the closer union of all her children ; in the establishment of Christian truth, and in 6* 84 APPENDIX, the diffusion of Christian charity : so that infidelity may at length not only be exposed, but shamed and silenced, and those sects which continue to differ in inferior questions of opinion and discipline may at least agree in forbearance and mutual kindness. Mr. Hall has shown the example to his brethren, and held out the invitation to those from whom he dissents. He has done his duty to his coun- try and to his religion, and he has done it nobly. Let us hope that he has not sown his seed in a barren soil. Thoui'h -Mr. Hall, however, in our opinion, has victoriously estabhshed his principle with respect to this part of the subject [the power of religion in pro- ducintr the hiirher class of virtues], he is with reason convinced that the indirect influence of religion, as it enters into our sentiments and forms our character, is much more extensive and important than its direct influence, as arising from a deliberate regard to the happiness or misery of another life, and from its litness to fill up that chasm that is founded merely on the utility of virtue in the present world. It is on the subject of the indirect influence of religion that he has chiefly displayed all the powers of his viororous understanding, and all the stores of his richly endowed mind. It is here that he exhibits a union of comprehen- sive philosophy with animated and splendid eloquence, of which few other examples are to be found. It is here, on a subject which has been discussed and (it might have been thought) exhausted by the greatest men of many successive ages, that Mr. Hall has given the most decisive proof of his genius, by many arguments and reflections which are at once original, just, and profound. Those who are familiar with moral discussions know the extreme difficulty of producing even a new paradox on subjects which have so often and so long employed all the powers of the human understanding. It is easy for men of sense to deliver very important moral truths, if they will content themselves with repeating and enforcing what has been often said before, which we are far from denying to be very useful, and indeed absolutely necessary. It is possible, though not easy, for men of ingenuity, if they merely seek singularitj-, and throw off all regard to truth and the interests of mankind, to discover some new path in the wilderness of error, which no former hnntpr of paradoxes had explored. To be origijial and just, however, is on all subjects very difficult; and it is a mark of the highest superiority of understanding, when displayed on a subject which seemed so nearly exhausted as the connexion between morality and religion. If we were to indulge our own feelings without regard to the limits of our review, we should scarcely know when to finish our extracts, or how to bound our praises. This sermon, indeed, is in every respect entitled to rank among the first productions of the age. It is distinguished by solid and profound philosophy ; the very reverse of that sorry and shallow sophistry which has of late usurped the name. It breathes a spirit of humility, piety, and charity ; worthy of that pure and divine religion, to the defence of which the author has consecrated his talents. His eloquence is not a |)uny and gaudy bauble, fashioned by the tools and tricks of a mechanical rhetorician ; it is the natural effusion of a fertile imagi- nation, of an ardent mind, and of a heart glowing with zeal for truth, with reverence for God, and with love for men. His style is easy, various, and animated ; not free, indeed, from those petty incorrectnesses, which seem to be scarcely separable from natural composition, but perfectly exempt from atfectation — a blemish far more unpardonable tiian negligence, and into which those who too studiously avoid carelessness have in general been too liable to fall. On a review of all his various excellences, we cannot but expect with confidence that the name of Mr. Hall will be placed by posterity with the illustrious names of Paley and of Watson, among the best writers of the age, as well as the most vigorous defenders of religious truth, and the brightest examples of Christian charity. 2. From Sir James MackintoslCs Review of Proceedings in the Case of Bcnja- nin Flower. British Critic, August, 1800, He tells us in his preface, "There is no one living more guarded in bringing unsubstantial charges than myself." p. 17. He also observes, that *' the mere change of sentiment is not in itself criminal, it is sometimes virtuous." p. 22 NOTE B.— EXTRACTS FROM MACKINTOSH AND PARR. 85 After these declarations, we should of course have expected that he would not have applied the most contumelious and opprobrious language to virtuous men, on no better pretext than that of a " mere change of sentiment." As this "change" might be " virtuous," all " charges" founded only upon it must be " unsubstan- tiated." Now mark the conduct of this man, and let him be tried by his own principles. Mr. Hall, his townsman, and, as we understand, formerly his pastor, is well known to have lately published a most admirable sermon, in which he em- ployed all the powers of reason, and all the vigour and splendour of eloquence, in displaying the abominable consequences of atheism. " Tke very head and front of his offending hath this extent, no farther." His whole guilt consisted in this : that, being a minister of Christianity, he had the illiberality and cruelty to attack poor atheism, and its meek and unbloody apostles, the amiable French republicans. For this great crime, this miserable scribbler attempts to raise a louder clamour against Mr. Hall than has been raised against other dissenting ministers for renouncing their belief in God. Bishops may be libelled, kings may be slandered, all laws, human and divine, may be insulted and reviled ; but France and atheism are sacred things, which it seems no Englishman, or at least no dissenting minister, is to attack with impunity ; which he cannot reason against without having his character stigmatized as a time-server ; the warm language of his youth cited against his more mature opinions ; and all the prejudices of his sect, or even of his congregation, artfully inflamed against his good name, his profes- sional usefulness, and perhaps his professional existence. The black and fell malignity which pervades this man's attack on Mr. Hall raises it to a sort of diabolical importance, of which its folly, and ignorance, and vulgarity cannot entirely deprive it. This must be our excuse for stooping so low as to examine it. His first charge is, that Mr. Hall now speaks of the French revolution in dif- ferent language from that which he used in 1793. How many men have retained the same opinions on that subject? There may be some, and Mr. Benjamin Flower may be one ; for there are men who have hearts too hard to be moved by crimes, or heads too stupid to be instructed by experience. The second accusa- tion against Mr. Hall is, that he has imputed a great part of the horrors of the last ten years to the immoral, antisocial, and barbarizing spirit of atheism. Will this man deny, on principles of reason, that atheism has such a tendency 1 If he does, what becomes of his pretended zeal for religion ] Or will he, on the authority of experience, deny that atheism has actually produced such effects 1 If he does, we refer him, not to Professor Robison, or the Abbe Barruel, of whose labours he, as might be expected, speaks with real rancour and atfected contempt ; but to the works of atheists and anarchists themselves, which he will think much better authority. Has he read the correspondence of Voltaire, of Diderot, of D'Alembert 1 Has he consulted any of the publications which have issued during the last ten years from the Paris press "? Does he know that all the fanatical atheists of Europe (and England is not free from this pest) almost publicly boast that in thirty years no man in a civilized country will believe in God "? Has he never heard that the miners of Cornwall were instigated to sell their clothes in order to purchase the impious ravings of Tom Paine ; or that they were gratui- tously distributed among the people of Scotland, with such fatal effect that a large body of that once religious people made a bonfire of their Bibles, in honour of the new apostle 1 Has he been informed that the London Corresponding Society (enlightened by the Sysfemc de la Nature, of which the translation was hawked in penny numbers at every stall in the metropolis) deliberated whether they ought not to uncitizen Tom Paine for superstitiously professing some belief in the existence of God ? Does he know that the same society resolved, that the belief of a God was so pernicious an opinion as to be an exception to the general principle of toleration 1 Does he perceive the mischievous and infernal art with which only Deism is preached to the deluded peasantry of Scotland, while atheism is reserved for the more illuminated ruffians of London] All this, and probably much more, we fear, he knows but too well ! Yet it is in the midst of these symptoms of a medi- tated revolt against all religion, and of bloody persecution practised wherever atheists are strong, and projected where they are weak, against the Christian worship, and all its ministers of all sects and persuasions, that this man has the 86 APPENDIX, effrontery to make it a matter of accusation against 'Mr. Hall that he exhorted non-conlbrmist.s, not toahandoyi their dissent, but merely to unite their efforts with those of the church, in resisting the progress of atheism. He, it seems, hates the church more than he loves religion. He has more zeal for dissent than for the belief of the existence of a Deity. His pious zeal would prefer slavery, under the disciples of Condorcet and Volncy, to a temporary co-operation with the church ■which produced 7'ay/or and Barrow! That such should be the sentiments of an obscure scribbler is a matter of small moment ; tliough, notwithstanding his complaints of the state of the press, this is the first time since England was a nation that any man would have dared to publish them. But that such should be the sentiments of a numerous sect continuing to call themselves Christians would indeed be a matter of very serious consideration. But it cannot be. The body of dissenters will hasten to disavow such detestable sentiments. They will acknowledge as their representative, not this libeller, but the eloquent and philo- sophical preacher whom he has so foully slandered ; whom no dissenting minister has surpassed in talents, and whom none has equalled or even nearly approached in taste and elegance of composition. 3. From the Notes to Dr. Parr''s Spital Sermon. Easter, 1800. After defending Mr. Hall from the censures of those who blamed him for styling Hooker "great and judicious," he proceeds thus: In common with all men of letters, I read with exquisite delight Mr. Hall's sermon, lately published. As compositions, his former works are replete with excellence ; but his last approaches to perfection, tura tov acuvov rtrv xap"' ix£'- He apologizes for its length, but the apology was unnecessary ; for everj' man of taste and virtue will apply to this publication what Photius said upon the ht^t(.>l■aptov of Joannes JNIoschus, li aJTaiTu)V TO xprjatfiov b CTt'i'frof Kai b Ototpi\rii avijp ipciroiicvos, ovk av twv afrrrray^noji KOpov Karayvoiri. Bacon tells us that " the contemplative atheist is rare, and that atheism did never perturb states, because it makes men weary of themselves as looking no farther." But I agree with Mr. Hall, that "the present times furnish a melan- choly exception to this general observation ;" and Mr. Hall probably will agree with Bacon, " that superstition also has been the confusion of many states, and brinweth in a new priumm mol>ilc, that ravisheth all the spheres of government." — (Bacon's 17th and 18th Essays.) The liveliness of Mr. Hall's imagination and the strength of his feelings may now and then have led him to speak rather too slrontrly in each of his late publications. In the former [the Apology for the Freedom of the Press], I thought that he ascribed too much to the effects of popery under the French monarchy ; and in the latter, too much to the effects of philosophy in the French revolution. But in both works he has made many wise and interestimr observations ; in both he has preserved a most beautiful and animated stvle*^ through both he has been actuated, I believe, by the purest motives; and bv' the last more especially, he has deserved well from every friend to civilized society and pure religion. I am not sure that Mr. Hall stands in need of any vindication" upon the score of inconsistency ; but I am sure that he is most able to vindicate himself against accusations really strong, if .such there be, and I am equally sure that he has too much candour and too much magnanimity to persist in any error, which his own sagacity may discover, or the objections of his antagonists shall clearly prove. Having stated my wishes, that in a few, I mean a very"' few, instances, Mr. Hall had been a little more wary in pushing his principles to consequences, which thev may not quite warrant, I will give my general opinion of him in the words that were employed to describe a prelate, whose writings, I believe, are familiar to him, and whom he strongly resembles, not perhaps in variety of learning, but in fertility of imagination, in vigour of thinking, in rectitude of intention, and holiness of life. Yes, .Mr. Hall, like Bishop Taylor, " has the eloquence of an orator, the fancy of a poet, the acutrness of a schoolman, the profoundness of a philosopher, and the piety of a sainl." Sincere as my attachment is to Protestantism, I confess that I have been pained by some outrageous invectives that have been lately thrown out against the Church NOTE C. 87 of Rome ; and at the present crisis, I must further confess, that they appear to me not only unjust, but indiscreet, and even inhuman. Let me remind the accusers of Mr. Hall, that, in the estimation of Lord Bacon, " divisions in religion, if they be many, introduce atheism ;" " that there is a superstition in avoiding super- stition, when men think they do best by going farthest from what they think the superstition formerly received ; and, therefore, care should be had that the good be not taken away with the bad, which commonly is done when the people is the reformer." Among those who censure Mr. Hall, there may be thoughtless and injudicious persons, who often repeat the wiity and decisive answer of Sir Henry Wotton to the priest, who asked, " Where was your religion to be found before Luther 1" Let me then recall to their memory the advice which Sir Henry gave to one whose earnestness exceeded his knowledge, and who was perpetually railing against the papists : " Pray, sir, forbear, till you have studied the points better ; for the wise Italians have this proverb, ^ He that understandcth amiss con- cludes worse;'' and take heed of thinking, the farther you go from the Church of Rome, the nearer you are to God." To men of sounder judgment and more candid dispositions I would recommend the serious perusal of " Cassandri Con- sultatio," of Grotius's notes upon it, and his three replies to Rivetus. When they read the " Syllabus Librorum et Epistolarum doctorum aliquot et priorum virorum," in the third volume of Grotius's works, they may cease to think Mr. Hall singular, when he remarks, in his preface, " How trivial, for the most part, are the contro- versies of Christians with each other !" They may be disposed to join him in his prayer, that " Ephraim may no longer vex Judah, or Judah Ephraim ;" and they may be converted to the wise and salutary opinion of Grotius, " Quam non sit difiicilis in Religione Conciliatio, si controvertendi studium vitetur '" NOTE C— [See page 5G.] CHARACTER OF MR. HALL AS A PREACHER. From the London Magazine, No. XIV. Feb. 1, 1821. Written by the Editor, Mr. John Scott, Author of Visits to Paris, <^c. Some of them (the dissenting ministers) are, at the present day, exhibiting no ordinary gifts and energies ; and to the most distinguished of these we propose to direct the attention of our readers. Mr. Hall, though perhaps the most distinguished ornament of the Calvinistic* dissenters, does not afford the best opportunity for criticism. His excellence does not consist in the predominance of one of his powers, but in the exquisite pro- portion and harmony of all. The richness, variety, and extent of his knowledge are not so remarkable as his absolute mastery over it. He moves about in the loftiest sphere of contemplation, as though he were " native and endued to its element." He uses the linest classical allusions, the noblest images, and the most exquisite words, as though they were those which came first to his mind, and which formed his natural dialect. There is not the least appearance of straining after greatness in his most magnificent excursions, but he rises to the loftiest heights with a childlike ease. His style is one of the clearest and simplest — the least encumbered with its own beauty — of any which ever has been written. It is bright and lucid as a mirror, and its most highly-wrought and sparkling embel- lishments are like ornaments of crystal, which, even in their brilliant inequal- ities of surface, give back to the eye little pieces of the true imagery set before them. The works of this great preacher are, in the highest sense of the term, imagi- native, as distinguished, not only from the didactic, but from the fanciful. He * We use this epithet merely as that which will most distinctively characterize the extensive class to which it is applied, well aware that tliere are shades of difference among them, aad that many of them would decline to call themselves after any name but that of Christ. 88 APPENDIX, possesses " the vision and faculty divine," in as hij^h a degree as any of our writers in prose. His noblest passages do but make truth visible in the form of beauty, and " clothe upon" abstract ideas, till they become palpable in exquisite shapes. The dullest writer would not convey the same meaning in so few words as he has done in the most sublime of his illustrations. Imagination, when, like his, of the purest water, is so far from being improperly employed on divine subjects, that it only finds its real objects in the true and the eternal. This power it is which dis- dains the scattered elements of beauty, as they appear distinctly in an imperfect world, and strives by accumulation, and by rejectmg the alloy cast on all things, to imbody to the mind that ideal iieauty which shall be realized hereafter. This, by shedding a consecrating light on all it touches, and " bringing them into one," anticipates the future harmony of creation. This already sees the " soul of good- ness in things evil," which shall one day change the evil into its likeness. This already begins the triumph over the separating powers of death and time, and renders their victory doubtful, by making us feel the immortality of the alfections. Such is the faculty which is employed by Mr. Hall to its noblest uses. There is no rhetorical flourish, no mere pomp of words, in his most eloquent discourses. With vast excursive power, indeed, he can range through all the glories of the pagan world, and, seizing those traits of beauty which they derived from primeval revelation, restore them to the system of truth. But he is ever best when he is intensest — when he unvails the mighty foundations of the rock of ages — or makes the hearts of his hearers vibrate with a strange joy, which they will recognise in more exalted stages of their being. Mr. Hall has unfortunately committed but few of his discourses to the press. His sermon on the tendencies of Modern Infidelity, is one of the noblest specimens of his genius. Nothing can be more fearfully sublime than the picture which he gives of the desolate state to which atheism would reduce the world ; or more beautiful and triumphant than his vindication of the social affections. His Sermon On the Death of the Princess Charlotte contains a philosophical and eloquent development of the causes which make the sorrows of those who are encircled by the brightest appearances of happiness, peculiarly affecting ; and gives an exquisite picture of the gentle victim adorned with sacrificial glories. His Discourses On War — On the Discouragements and Supports of the Christian Minister — and On the Work of the Holy Spirit — are of great and various excellence. But, as our limits will allow only a single extract, we prefer giving the close of a sermon preached in the prospect of the invasion of England by Napoleon, in which he blends the finest remembrance of the antique world — the dearest associations of British patriotism — and the pure spirit of the gospel — in a strain as noble as could be poured out by Tyrtasus. [The passages quoted are from p. 106-111, vol. i.] There is nothing very remarkable in Mr. Hall's manner of deliverincrhis sermons. His simplicity, yet solemnity, of deportment engages the attention, but does not promise any of his most rapturous effusions. His voice is feeble but distinct, and as he proceeds trembles beneath his images, and conveys the idea that the spring of sublimity and beauty in his mind is exhausllcss, and would pour forth a more copious stream, if it had a wider channel than can be supplied by the bodily organs. The plainest and least inspired of his discourses are not without delicate gleams of imagery, and felicitous turns of expression. He expatiates on the propliocics with a kindred spirit, and affords awful glimpses into the valley of vision. He often seems to conduct his hearers to the top of the "Delectable Mountains," whence they can see from afar the glorious gates of the eternal city. He seems at home among the marvellous revelations of St. John ; and while he expatiates on them, leads his hearers breathless through ever-varying scenes of mystery, far more glorious and surprising than the wildest of oriental fobles. He stops when they, most desire that he should proceed — when he has just disclosed the dawnings of the inmost glory to their enraptured minds, — and leaves them full of imaginations of " things not made with hands" — of joys too ravishing for smiles — and of impulses which wing their hearts "along the line of limitless desires." NOTE E.— PRIVATE CHARACTER. 89' NOTE D.— [See page 75.] AN EXTRACT OF A LETTER FROM DR. PRICHARD. The following extract of a letter, from Dr. Prichard to Dr. Frederick Thackeray, of Cambridge, describing concisely the results of the post mortem examination, unfolds the cause of Mr. Hall's acute suffering for so many years. " We found the heart diseased in .substance, and the muscular structure soft, and looking like macerated cellular membrane ; the left ventricle was judged to be one- third larger than usual. The whole of the aorta was diseased ; the internal mem- brane, in parts where it had not been in contact with blood, of a bright scarlet colour, which increased in deepness, and in the abdominal part of the artery was of a red purple hue. It contained in several places patches of bony matter about the size of a sixpence. This was the case particularly about the origin of the arteria innominata. The lungs were healthy. The kidney on the right side was entirely filled by a large, rough, pointed calculus. There was also an exostosis on the body of the fourth dorsal vertebra, about the third of an inch in height and prominent. This was too high to be the cause of the long-continued pain, which must have arisen from the renal calculus. " The gall-bladder was quite full of calculi, though he had never experienced any symptoms referring to the liver or biliary secretion. " Probably no man ever went through more physical suffering than Mr. Hall ; he was a fine example of the triumph of tlie higher powers of mind exalted by religion, over the infirmities of the body. His loss will long be felt in this place, not only by persons of his own communion, but by all that have any esteem for what is truly great and good." NOTE E.— [See page 75.] SKETCHES OF MR. HALl's CHARACTER, ESPECIALLY AS MANIFESTED IN PRIVATE LIFE.* Mr. Hall seemed to met very remarkable for being always in earnest. He was a perfect contrast to Socrates, who, as you will recollect, was called the ironist, from his constant assumption of a character that did not belong to him. Mr. Hall did not practise the Socratic irony. He never said one thing and meant another. He was earnest even in his wit and humour. It was never his design to impose on any person, and he was entirely free from suspicion. He was artless as a child. A sort of infantine simplicity was conspicuous in many parts of his conduct. With his extraordinary capacity, and a propension for abstract and refined thinking, it was curious and remarkable to observe the interest that he took in the present object. He threw himself entirely into whatever might be the topic of conversa- tion, and seemed altogether engrossed with what pressed on the sense, and solicited immediate attention. It was perhaps owing to this interest in the present object, together with an undecaying vivacity of feeling, that he appeared to enjoy with the keenest relish whatever tended to innocent pleasure. Gratifications that usually give delight only in the earlier periods of life he enjoyed to the very last, as if he had not advanced beyond boyhood. His powers of conversation were very extraordinary, and discovered quite as great abilities as appeared in his preaching or writings. He seemed equally capable of talking clearly, forcibly, copiously, beautifully, on every subject however com- mon it might be, or however abstruse and remote from the course of general * The great accordance in some striking particulars of these independent sketches of Mr. Ilall gives them, in those respects, almost the air of tautology. But I venture to retain the whole, to show in how many essential points, every competent judge formed necessarily tlie same estimate. t The Rev. William Anderson, classical tutor at the Baptist Education Society. 90 APPENDIX, thought and conversation. He avoided, rather than invited, discourse on those subjects that iiiight h;ue been supposed to be most congenial with the cast and habit of his mind, and the current of his studies and speculations. He never usurpal conversation, nor showed any disposition to give it any particular direction. He laid hold of casual topics of every kind, apparently to beguile the time, rather than as the occasions of imparting his knowledge, diliusing his wisdom, or turn- ing them to any serious or practical purpose. It was impossible to be often with Mr. Hall, and not he struck with the degree of nature that prevailed in all his words and actions, and in the whole of his bear- ing. Incidents, parts of conversations, that when separated from the circum- stances in u hich they took place have an air of eccentricity and affectation, seemed perfectly natural as they occurred. All easily and spontaneously arose from the structure and usual operation of his mind, and the surrounding circum- stances. There was no aim on his part to be singular, no effort to excite surprise, or catch admiration. A very prominent quality of his mind seemed to be benevolence. He sympa- thized most deeply with all forms of distress, and endeavoured to afford relief, by suitable suggestions, by the exertions of his talents, and by pecuniary aid to the full extent of his means. It was easy to discern in him a great concern and anxiety to render those that were about him as comfortable as possible, and a visible delight in the pleasure of his friends. Akin to his great benevolence was an unusual sensibility to kindness. Little services, offices of respect and affection, small endeavours to promote his comfort, that would generally be considered as matters of course, even from those whose relation to him made the action a duty, would diffuse a gleam of benignity and satisfaction, and draw forth lively expres- sions of gratitude. Perhaps the character of Mr. Hall's mind* cannot be better described in a single word than by saying that it is perfectly balanced, and combines all the various j)Owers in their highest perfection. If he possessed any one faculty in the same exuberance in which he possesses them all, and in respect to the others were not in the least distinguished, it would be enough to render him an extraordinary man. If he reasons, it is always with strict philosophical accuracy ; with a keen, searching glance into the very mysteries of his subject, leaving the reader or hearer often at a loss whether most to admire the light, or the strength, or the depth of his argument ; and generally leaving his antagonist to the alternative of quiet submission or of preparing for a still more mortifying defeat. If he comes into the region of taste or imagination, here also he is equally at home. With the eame apparent ease that his mind can frame a powerful argument, it will pour forth images of exquisite beauty and tenderness, as well as of overwhelmino- majesty and strength. In short, there is no part of the intellectual world in which he does not seem to breathe freely, as if it were his peculiar element. He is at home as far below the surface of things, as far down in the depths of meta- physical abstraction, as perhaps any mind ever penetrates. He is at home amid the common-sense realities of life, judging of men and things with as much accu- racy as if the whole business of his life had been to watch and analyze the ope- rations of the humr\n heart. He is at home in the field of fancy, in worlds of his own creation : and he can find in the mountain and in the valley, in the ocean and the sky, in the storm and the lightning, in every thing in the kingdom of nature and providence, a field where his imagination may expatiate with unlimited power. His acquisitions correspond, in a good degree, to his original endowments. It were not to be expected, indeed it were not possible, that he could have gone extensively into every department of science and learning, in which his great and versatile mind would have enabled him to become pre-eminent ; we suppose his favourite studies to have been the science of morals and theoloory, though he has * From the Rev. Dr. Sprasue, of Albany, New- York, author of a most interesting and instructive volume on "Revivals of Religion" in America. This pentleinan, when in England in 1828. spent some time at Bristol. The account from which I select the above passage was written before Mr. Hall's death. NOTE E.— PRIVATE CHARACTER. 91 shown himself deeply versed in political economy, and the various branches of polite literature. His knowledge of the ancient and modern classics is exten- sive and exact ; and if we mistake not, they make part of his every-day reading, even at this advanced period of life. We remember to have been equally delighted and astonished at hearing him converse for an hour upon the philosophy of language, in a style which discovered a degree of reflection and research, from which one might have supposed that it Was not only a favourite topic, but that he had made it the study of his life. It were naturally to be expected, an intellect of such uncommon strength should be associated with a corresponding strength of feeling. This is true, in respect to Mr. Hall ; and it is no doubt to the power of his feelings that the world is indebted for some of the most brilliant and useful of his efforts. A man of dull temperament, let his intellect be what it might, could never produce those fine strains of soul-stirring eloquence, in which it is the privilege of Mr. Hall to pour out even his common thoughts. Bat with all the strength of his feelings, his heart is 'full of kindness and affection. In all his intercourse he is noble and generous. His attachments are strong and enduring. He is open and honest in respect to every thing and everybody. As no one can approach him without a deep feeling of respect, so no one can be admitted to the hospitality of his fireside and the privilege of his friendship, without finding that the sentiment of respect is fast ripening into that of cordial and affectionate attachment. In private conversation Mr. Hall is the admiration and delight of every circle in which he mingles He converses a great deal, partly because when his mind is excited it is not easy for him to be silent, and partly because there is so much in his conversation to interest and edify, that almost every one who is in his com- pany regards it as a privilege to listen rather than talk, and acts accordino-ly. We have been struck with the fact, that, let the conversation turn upon whatever subject it may, even though it be a subject on which he might be expected to be least at home, he is equally ready, equally eloquent. He possesses, beyond any man we have known, the faculty of bringing facts and principles which are stored up in his mind instantly to bear upon any given subject ; throwing around it at once, to the mind of the hearer, the clear strong light in which it appears to his own. This must be owing partly to the original power which he possesses of discerning almost intuitively even the most remote relations of things to each other, and partly to the perfect order with which all his intellectual acquisitions are arranged. In the midst of an involved discussion, he will bring to his aid insulated facts from the various departments of knowledge, without the least hesi- tation or effort, just as we have known some men who had a remarkable attach- ment to order, able to enter their library, and lay their hand on any book at plea- sure in the dark. But, notwithstanding he converses so much, there is not the semblance of an obtrusive or ostentatious manner, — nothing that seems to say that he is thinking of his own superiority ; on the contrary, he seems to forget, and sometimes makes those around him forget, the greatness of the man, in the great- ness which he throws around his subject. He has a strong passion for sarcasm, which often comes out in his conversation, and sometimes with prodigious effect. Ke is, however, ijy no means severe in the common estimate which he forms of character; so far from it, that he treats characters for the most part with unusual lenity, and sometimes seems delighted with exhibitions of intellect from others, which would have appeared to every one else far below the most common place efforts of his own mind. In his converse, as well as in his ministrations, no one could avoid being struck by a certain naturalness and simplicity peculiar to himself, and rendered the mora remarkable and engaging by its union with such consummate intelligence and eloquence.* His companion or hearer was alike surprised and charmed by the harmonious contrast of excellences, so dissimilar, yet in him so perfectly combined. In all that he uttered, whether in social or sacred discourse, there was a vivid * Communicated by the Rev. Thomas RrinfieW, A.M., of Chflon. 92 APPENDIX, freshness and raciness of thought and expression that marked it as the growth of his own mind, and gave an interest to his familiar remarlcs, as well as to the more elaborate productions of his mighty genius. Possessed of art and refine- ment in the highest degree, he had the rare and strange felicity of retaining unim- paired the charm of native beauty. Among the predominant qualities of his nature, one of the most obvious was his openness, his ingenuous unreserve, his social communicativeness. Conversa- tion was not less his congenial element than contemplation. He evidently delighted to disclose and impart the accumulated stores of his mind ; while he seemed to luxuriate in that unequalled fluency of graceful or energetic language with which he was gifted. The warmth of his aHections was proportioned to the strength of his intellect. His own mental opulence did not make him independ- ent on the converse and friendship of those who were poor in comparison with himself. He felt, in the language of Cicero, and as he has elegantly portrayed his feelings in the sermon on the death of Dr. Ryland, that, " Caritate et benevo- lentia sublata, onmis est e vita sublata jucunditas." The benevolence of his capacious heart greatly contributed at once to inspire and increase his love of society and conversation ; while, in the social circle, and in the solemn assembly, he appeared as a distinguished representative, a most expressive organ of our nature, in all its more familiar sentiments, or in all its more sublime conceptions and aspirations. Hence he was regarded by the mul- titudes who sought his public or his private presence as a kind of universal property, whom all parties had a right to enjoy, and none to monopolize : before him, all forgot their denominations, as he appeared to forget his own, in the comprehensive idea of the church of Christ. In recollecting the moral featuros of his character, it is impossible to forget the consummate truth and sincerity which left its unequivocal stamp on all he said, of which a suspicion never occurred to any one, and which gave to his discourses a solidity and an impressiveness, which otherwise their argument and eloquence could never have commanded. Never has there been a stronger, a more universal confidence in the sacred orator, as one whose eloquence was kindled in his own heart ; never were the testimony of faith, and the rapture of hope, exhibited in a more manifestly genuine, unaffected, and consequently in a more convincing form. His was truly the " generoso incoctum pectus flonesto." This added to his ministry a singular and inestimable charm. Hence, more than any other advocate of evangelical principles, he was revered, even by the irreligious. His peculiar ascendency over such was not acquired by any degree of compromise in his exhibition of spiritual religion ; it was the involuntary result of their convic- tion that his earnestness was as perfect as his eloquence. Never can there have been a preacher more strikingly characterized by a dignified simplicity, a majesty unalloyed by pomp : never was there a finer combination of the utmost manliness and grandeur with the utmost delicacy and pathos. No wonder that such qualities, combined in such perfection, should have produced so strong and so extensive an enchantment. It must be acknowledged that the moral graces of his character derived a pecu- liar and accidental advantage from the intellectual power and splendour with which they were united ; a remark particularly applicable to that child-like simplicity by which he was distinguished, and to that delicate and refined modesty which was the natural indication of an interior and inwrought humility. " Be clothed with humility," was the subject of his last lecture preparatory to the communion, the last entire address which I heard from his lips (Jan. 1831) ; and, as I returned in company with some members of the Church of England, who privileged them- selves with hearing him on these monthly ojiportunities, we were all impressed by the force which liis pathetic exhortation acquired from his own conspicuous example of the grace he had recommended. His humility gave a charm to his character, and to his preaching, which all his more brilliant qualities, without it, could not have supplied ; while it served as a dark background, from which their brilliant contrast rose the more impressive and sublime. In thus slightly glancing at some of the more retired graces with which he was udorned, I cannot dismiss the hasty and unfinished sketch without referring to NOTE E.— PRIVATE CHARACTER. 93 that sweet sunshine of serenity, cheerfuhiess, and bland good-nature which, unobscured by so much acute or wearing pain, habitually beamed in his noble aspect, and diffused its genial influence alike over his converse and his preaching. A friend, subject to constitutional depression of spirits, assured me that, on several occasions, he has found his sadness soothed by the balm of a visit or a sermon, for which he had resorted to Mr. Hall. Nothing morose, nothing gloomy, either in his natural temper or in his religious views, impaired the fascination of his presence, or the benefit of his ministry. The remembrance of such a man, especially as it is now embalmed and sancti- fied by death (and his death was altogether in harmony with his character), cannot leave any other than a beneficial influence, ennobling and elevating to the mind and the heart. The name of " Robert Hall" is rich in sacred as well as splendid associations ; a memento of consecrated intellect and energy ; an inspiring watch- word for the cultivation of Christian graces and of heavenly affections ; an anti- dote to all that is unworthy in principle or practice ; an attraction to whatever, in the intellectual or moral system, bears the stamp of unaffected excellence ; what- ever qualifies for the fruition of spiritual and eternal blessings ; whatever is allied to the love of Christ and God. OBSERVATIONS MR. HALL'S CHARACTER AS A PREACHER. BY JOHN FOSTER. The biographical and literary illustrations of Mr. Hall's character and performances expected from the highly qualified editor of his works, and from the eminent person who has engaged for a part of that tribute to his memory,* may render any formal attempt in addition liable to be regarded as both superfluous and intrusive ; the public, besides, have been extensively and very long in possession of their own means of forming that judgment which has pronounced him the first preacher of the age : and again, so soon after the removal of such a man, while the sentiments of friendship and admiration are finding their natural expression in the language of unrestrained eulogy, it is hardly permitted to assume a judicial impartiality. From these con- siderations it has been with very great reluctance that I have con- sented, in compliance with the wishes of some of Mr. Hall's friends, to attempt a short description of what he was in the special capacity of a preacher ; a subject which must indeed be of chief account in any memorial of him ; but may also admit of being taken in some degree separately from the general view of his life, character, and writings. For more reasons than that it must be one cause, added to others, of an imperfect competence to describe him in that capacity, I have to regret the disadvantage of not having been, more than very occasion- ally, perhaps hardly ten times in all, a hearer of Mr. Hall till within the last few years of his life. It appears to be the opinion of all those attendants on his late ministrations, who had also been his hearers in former times (and from recollection of the few sermons which 1 heard many years since my own impression would be the same), that advan- cing age, together with the severe and almost continual pressure of pain, had produced a sensible effect on his preaching, perceptible in an abatement of the energy and splendour of his eloquence. He was less apt to be excited to that intense ardour of emotion and utterance which so often, animating to the extreme emphasis a train of sentiments im- pressive by their intrinsic force, had held dominion over every faculty of thought and feeling in a large assembly. It is not meant, however, * These observations were written, and transmitted to the publishers, a considerable time before the lamented and unexpected decease of Sir J. Mackintosh. A very few slight notes have been added in the last revlsal for the press. 96 MR. HALL'S CHARACTER that a considerable degree of this ancient fire did not frequently appear glowing and shining again. Within the course of a moderate number of sermons there would be one or more which brought back the preacher of the times long past to the view of those who had heard him in those times. I have reason to believe tliat this representation of his diminished energy should be nearly limited to a very late period, the period when an increased l)ut reluctant use of opiates became absolutely necessary, to enable him to endure the pain which he had suffered throughout his life, and when another obscure malady was gradually working towards a fatal termination. For at a time not more than seven or eight years since, I heard in close succession several sermons delivered in so ardent an excitement of sentiment and manner as I could not conceive it possible for himself or any other orator to have surpassed. Even so lately as within the last four or five years of his life, the recurrence of something approaching to this was not so infrequent as to leave any apprehension that it might not soon be displayed again. There was some compensation for the abatement of this character of force and vehemence, supplied by a certain tone of kindness, a milder pathos, more sensibly expressive of benevolence towards his hearers, than the impetuous, the almost imperious energy so often predominant when an undepressed vitality of the physical system was auxiliary to the utmost excitement of his mind. There seems to be a perfect agreement of opinion that a considerable decline of the power or the activity of his imagination was evident in the latter part of his life. The felicities of figure and allusion of all kinds, sometimes illustrative by close analogy, often gay and humorous, sometimes splendid, less abounded in his conversation. And in his public discourses there appeared to be a much rarer occurrence of those striking images in which a series of thoughts seemed to take fire in passing on. to end in a still more striking figure, with the effect of an explosion. 80 that, from persons who would occasionally go to hear him with much the same taste and notions as they would carry to a theatrical or mere oratorical exhibition, and caring little about religious truth and instruction, there might be heard complaints of disappoint- ment, expressed in terms of more than hinted depreciation. They had hardly any other idea of eloquence, even that of the pulpit, than that it must be brilliant; and they certainly might happen to hear (at the late period in question) several of his sermons which had not more than a very moderate share of this attraction. But even such persons, if dis- posed to attend his preaching regularly for a few weeks, might have been sure to hear some sermons in which the solidity of tliought was finely inspirited with the sparkling quality they were requiring. But whatever reduction his imagination may have suffered from age and the oppression of disease and pain, it is on all hands admitted that there was no decline in what he valued far more in both himself and others, and what all, except very young or defectively cultivated persons and inferior poets, must regard as the highest of mental endowments — the intellectual power. His wonderful ability for com- prehending and reasoning, his quickness of apprehension, his faculty for analyzing a subject to its elements, for seizing on tlie essential points, for going back to principles and forward to consequences, and for bringing out into an intelligible and sometimes very obvious form what appeared obscure or perplexed, remained unaltered to tlie last. This noble intellect, thus seen with a diminished lustre of imagination, suggested the idea of a lofty eminence raising its form and summit AS A PREACHER. 97 clear and bare towards the sky, losing nothing of its imposing aspect by absence of the wreaths of tinctured clouds, which may have invested it at another season. It is to be observed, that imagination had always been a subordinate faculty in his mental constitution. It was never of that prolific power which threw so vast a profusion over the oratory of Jeremy Taylor or of Burke ; or which could tempt him to revel, for the pure luxury of the indulgence, as they appear to have sometimes done, in the exube- rance of imaginative genius. As a preacher, none of those contemporaries who have not seen him in the pulpit, or of his readers in another age, will be able to conceive an adequate idea of Mr. Hall. His personal appearance was in striking conformity to the structure and temper of his mind. A large-built, robust figure was in perfect keeping with a countenance formed as if on purpose for the most declared manifestation of internal power, a power impregnable in its own strength, as in a fortress, and constantly, without an effort, in a state for action.* That countenance was usually of a cool, unmoved mien at the beginning of the public service ; and sometimes, when he was not greatly excited by his subject, or was repressed l3y pain, would not acquire a great degree of temporary expression during the whole discourse. At other times it would kindle into an ardent aspect as he went on, and towards the conclusion become lighted up almost into a glare. But, for myself, I doubt whether I was not quite as much arrested by his appearance in the interval while a short part of the service, performed without his assist- ance, immediately before the sermon, allowed him to sit in silence. With his eyes closed, his features as still as in death, and his head sinking down almost on his chest, he presented an image of entire abstraction. For a moment, perhaps, he would seem to awake to a perception of the scene before him, but instantly relapse into the same state. It was interesting to imagine the strong internal agency which it was certain was then employed on the yet unknown subject about to be unfolded to the auditory. His manner of public prayer, considered as an exercise of thought, was not exactly what would have been expected from a mind con- stituted like his. A manner so different in that exercise from its operation in all other employments could hardly have been uninten- tional ; but on what principle it was preferred cannot be known or conjectured. It is to the intellectual consistence and order of his thoughts in public prayer that I am adverting, in uncertainty how far the opinion of others may have been the same ; as to the devotional spirit, there could be but one impression. There was the greatest seriousness and simplicity, the plainest character of genuine piety, humble and prostrate before the Almighty. Both solemnity and good taste forbade indulgence in any thing showy or elaborately ingenious in such an employment. But there might have been, without an approach to any such impropriety, and as it always appeared to me, with great advantage, what I may venture to call a more thinking per- formance of the exercise ; a series of ideas more reflectively con- ceived, and more connected and classed, if I may express it so, in their order. Many of the conceptions were not, individually, presented in that specific expression which conveys one certain thing to the appre- * The portrait to accompany the Works, hiffhly elaborated, and true to the general form and lineaments, r:iils to give exactly tbat stern, intense, and somewhat formidahle cjryrp^.rifi?!, which the painter, Mr. Branwiiite, was very successful in seizing, in spite of circumstances tlic most unfavourable for obtaining a likeness. Mr. Hall had an insuperable aversion to sit for his portrait. Vol. III.— 7 98 MR. HALL'S CHARACTER hension ; nor were there, generally speaking, those trains of petitionary thought, which would strongly fix, and for a Avhile detain, the attention on each distinctly, in the "succession of the subjects of devotional interest. No one, I may presume, will be so mistaken as to imagine that pieces of discussion, formal developments of doctrines, nice casuistical dis- tinctions, like sections of a theological essay, are meant in pleading that it must be of great advantage for engaging attention, exciting interest, and inducing reflection, that instead of a rapidly discursive succession of ideas, the leader of the devotions should often dwell awhile on one and another important topic, and with a number of accumulated sentiments specifically appropriate to each ; in order that its importance, thus exposed and aggravated, may constrain the auditory to reflect how deeply they are concerned in that one subject of petition. Any one pernicious thing deprecated — a spiritual evil, a vice of the heart or life, an easily besetting temptation, a perilous delusion into which men are liable to fall, or a temporal calamity, — and so, on the other hand, any one of the good gifts implored, — might thus be exposed in magnified and palpable importance before the minds of the people. Will it be objected that this would tend to a practice not consistent either with the comprehensiveness of religion, or with the generality of scope requisite to adapt the prayer to the aggregate interests of a ver)' mixed assemblage ; that it would be to confine the attention to a few selected particulars of religion, losing the view of its wide com- pass ; and to reduce the prayer which should be for all the people collect- ively regarded, to a set of adaptations to certain supposed individual cases, or small classes, singled out in tlie congregation, to the exclusion, in effect, of the general body] I may answer that, in perfect safety from shrinking into such speciality and exclusiveness, the great element of religion may be resolved into particular subjects and adaptations in public prayer. Particular parts of divine truth may come in view as suggesting matter of distinct and somewhat prolonged petition, con- ceived in terms that shall constantly and closely recognise the condition of the people. A man well exercised in religion, and well acquainted with the states and characters of men, might recount to himself a greater number of such topics than the longest book in the Bible comprises chapters ; and would see that each of them might benefi- cially be somewhat amplified by thoughts naturally arising upon it; that one of thein would be peculiarly appropriate to one portion of the assembly, another of them adapted to several conditions, and some of them commensurate with the interests of all. In one prayer of moderate length he might comprehend a number of these distinguishable topics, thus severally kept in view for a few moments ; and varying them from time to time, he might bring the concerns which are the business of prayer, in parts, and with special effects, before the minds of the people, instead of giving the course of his thoughts every time to the guidance of entirely accidental and miscellaneous suggestion. I might ask, why should sermons be constructed to fix the attention of a mixed congregation on dirstinct parts of religion, instead of being, each in succession, vaguely discursive over the whole field ] 1 would not say that the two exercises arc under exactly the same law ; but still, is there a propriety, that in a discourse for religious instruction some selected topics shoidd stand forrli in marked designation, to a\ ork one certain effect on the understanding or tlie feelings, and no propriety that any corresponding pruiciple should be observed in those prayers which AS A PREACHER. 99 may be supposed to request, and with much more than a passing mo- mentary interest, such things as that instruction would indicate as most important to be obtained ? But besides all this, there is no hazard in affirming that prayers which do not detain the thoughts on any certain things in particular take very slight liold of the auditors. Things noted so transiently do not admit of a deliberate attention, and seem as if they did not claim it ; the assembly are not made conscious how much they want what is peti- tioned for; and at the close would be at a loss to recollect any one part as having awakened a strong consciousness that that is what they have themselves in a special manner to pray for when alone. Such observations are, under small limitation, applicable to Mr. Hall's pubhc prayer. The succession of sentences appeared almost casual, or in a connexion too slight to hold the hearer's mind distinctly, for a time, to a certain object. A very large proportion of the series consisted of texts of Scripture ; and as many of these were figurative, often requiring, in order to apprehend their plain sense, an act of thought for which there was not time, the mind was led on with a very defective conception of the exact import of much of the phraseology. He did not avail himself of the portion of Scripture he had just read as a guiding suggestion of subjects for the prayer ; and very seldom made it bear any particular relation to what was to follow as the subject of the discourse. One could wish that, with the exception of very peculiar cases, per- sonalities, when they must be introduced, should be as brief as possible in public prayer ; especially such as point to individuals who are present, and whose i)wn feelings, one should think, would earnestly deprecate their being made conspicuous objects of the prolonged attention of the congregation. Mr. Hall's consideration for individuals standing officially, or brought incidentally, in association with an assembly, often led him to a length and particularity in personal references which one could not help regretting, as an encroachment on the time and the more proper concerns of the exercise, and as a sanction lent by an example of such high authority to a practice which leads the thoughts quite away from the interests in common; tempting the auditors into an impertinence of imagination about the persons so placed in exhibition, their characters, domestic circumstances, and so forth ; with possibly a sdent criticism, not much in harmony with devotion, on some tlaw of consistency between the terms which the speaker is now employing, and those which he may be heard, or may have been heard, to use in other times and places respecting the same individuals. In the lauda- tory tone and epithets into which he inevitably glides (for he never adverts to airy faults of the persons thus prominently held in view, with prayer for their correction), it is hardly possible for him, while the matter is kept long under operation, to avoid changing its colour, from that of reverence towards God into that of compliment to a fellow- mortal and fellow-sinner. If there was a defect of concentration, an indeterminateness in the direction of thought, in Mr. HaU's public prayers, the reverse was con- spicuous in his preaching. He surpassed perhaps all preachers of recent times in the capital excellence of having a definite purpose, a distinct assignable subject, in each sermon. Sometimes, indeed, as when intruders had robbed him of all his time for study, or when his spirits had been consumed by a prolonged excess of pain, h(=^ vvas reduced to take the license of discoursing with less definite sco])e, on the common subjects of religion. But he was never pleased with any 100 MR. HALL'S CHARACTER scheme of a sermon in which he could not, at the outset, say exactly what it was he meant to do. He told his friends that he always felt " he could do nothing with" a text or subject till it resolved and shaped itself into a topic of which he could see the form and outhne, and which he could take out both from the extensive system of religious truth, and, substantially, from its connexion with the more immediately, related parts of that system ; at the same time not failing to indicate that con- nexion, by a few brief clear remarks to show the consistency and mutual corroboration of the portions thus taken apart for separate dis- cussion. Tliis method ensured to him and his hearers the advantage of an ample variety. Some of them remember instances in which he preached, with but a short interval, two sermons on what would have appeared to common apprehension but one subject, a very limited section of doctrine or duty; yet the sermons went on quite different tracks of thoughts, presenting separate views of the subject, related to each other only by a general consistency. His survey of the extended field of religion was in the manner of a topographer, who fixes for a while on one separate district, and then on another, finding in each, though it were of very confined dimensions, many curious matters of research, and many interesting objects ; while yet he shall possess the wide information which keeps the country at large so comprehensively within his view, that he can notice and illustrate, as he proceeds, all the characters of the relation of the parts to uae another and to the whole. The preacher uniformly began his sermons in a low voice, and with sentences of the utmost plaiimess both of thought and language. It was not, I believe, in observance of any precept of the rhetoricians, or with any conscious intention, that he did so ; it was simply^ the manner in which his mind naturally set in for the consideration of an important subject. This perfect plainness of the introduction, quietly delivered in a voice deficient in tone and force, and difficult to be heard at first by a large part of the congregation, occasioned surprise and disappoint- ment sometimes to strangers drawn by curiosity to hear " the cele- brated orator," in the expectation, perhaps, of powerful salhes, flour- ishes, and fulminations. " Can this be he !" has been the question whispered between some two such expectants, seated together. A short conmient on the facts in Scripture history found in connexion with the text, or which had been the occasion of the words ; or on circum- stances in the condition of the primitive church ; or on some ancient or modern error relating to the subject to be proposed ; would give, within the space of five or ten minutes, the condensed and perspicuous result of much reading and study. Sometimes he would go immediately to his subject, after a very few introductory sentences. And the attentive hearer was certain to apprehend what that subject was. It was stated precisely, yet in so simple a maimer as to preclude all appearance of elaborate definition. The distribution was always perfectly inartificial, cast in an order of the least formality of division that could mark an intelUgible succession of parts, very seldom exceeding the number of three or four ; whicli set forth the elements of the subject in the merest natural form, if I may express it so, of their subsistence. Generally, each of these parts was illustrated in two or three particulars, noted as first, second, and per- haps third. He never attempted, never thought of those schemes of arrangement in whicli parts are ingeniously placed in antithesis, or in such otlier disposition as to reflect cross-liglits on one another, pro- ducing surprise and curious expectation, with a passing glance of thought at the dexterity of the preacher who can work them in their contrasted AS A PREACHER. 101 positions to one ultimate effect. It is not denied that such ingenious and somewhat quaint devices of arrangement have had their advantage, in the liands of men who made them the vehicles of serious and import- ant sentiment, really desirous, not to amuse, but to attract and instruct. They catch attention, make the progress and stages of the discourse more sensible by the transitions between points apparently so abruptly asunder, and leave more durable traces in the memory than, it was often complained, could be preserved of Mr. Hall's sermons. But such a mode was entirely foreign to the constitution and action of his mind. He never came on his subject by any thing like manoeuvre ; never approached it sideways; never sought to secure himself resources in particular parts, corners, and adjuncts, against the effects of a failure in the main substance ; never threw out the force of a subject in offsets ; never expended it in dispersed varieties. He had it in one full single view before him, the parts lying in natural contiguity as a whole ; and advanced straight forward in pursuance of a plain leading principle ; looking to the right and the left just so far as to preserve the due breadth of the illustration. This is meant as a description generally applicable to the earlier and middle portions of the discourse, which were often, as regarded in a purely intellectual view, much the most valuable.* It was highly inter- esting, even as a mere affair of reason, independently of the religious object, to accompany this part of his progress ; from the announcement of his subject (sometimes in the form of a general proposition founded on the text, oftener in a more free exposition), onward through a series of statements, illustrations, and distinctions, till an important doctrine became unfolded to view, full in its explication, and strong in its evidence. In this progress, he would take account of any objections which he deemed it of consequence to obviate, meeting them without evasion, with acuteness and exact knowledge, available to the point. Every mode and resource of argument was at his command ; but he was singularly successful in that which is technically denominated reductio ad absurdum. Many a specious notion and cavil was convicted of being not only erroneous, but foolish. He displayed, in a most eminent degree, the rare excellence of a per- fect conception and expression of every thought, however rapid the succession. There were no half-formed ideas, no misty semblances of a meaning, no momentary lapses of intellect into an utterance at hazard, no sentences without a distinct object, and serving merely for the con- tinuity of speaking ; every sentiment had at once a palpable shape, and an appropriateness to the immediate purpose. If now and then, which v;as seldom, a word, or a part of a sentence, slightly failed to denote precisely the thing he intended, it was curious to observe how perfectly he was aware of it, and how he would instantly throw in an additional clause, which did signify it precisely. Another thing for curious obser- vation was, that sometimes, in the middle of a sentence, or just as it came to an end, there would suddenly occur to him some required point of discrimination, some exception perhaps, or limitation, to the assertion he was in the act of making ; or at another time, a circumstance of rein- * There was a remission of strict connexion of thought towards the conclusion, where lie threw himself loose into a strain of declamation, always earnest, and often fervid. This was of great effect in securing a degree of favour with many, to whom so intellectual a preacher would not otherwise have been acceptable ; it was this thai reconciled persons of simple piety and Ullle cul- tivated understanding. Many who might follow him with very imperfect apprehension and satis- faction through the preceding parts, could rccknn on being warmly interested at the latter end. In that part his utterance acquired a remarkable change of intonation, expressive of his own excited feelings. 102 MR. HALL'S CHARACTER forcement extraneously suggested, a transient ray, as it were, from a foreign and distant object ; and then he would, at the prompting of the moment, intimate the quahfying reference in a brief parenthesis in the sentence, or by a reverting glance at the end of it. — In these last lines of the description, I have in view the more closely intellectual parts of his pubUc exercises, the parts employed in the ascertainment of eluci- dation of truth. There wall be occasion, towards the close or these notices, to attribute some defect of di-scrimination and caution to other parts or qualities of his sermons. It were superfluous to say, that Mr. Hall's powerful reasoning faculty, and his love and habit of reasoning, went into his preaching; but I may be allowed to observe, that the argumentative tenor thence prevailing through it, was of a somewhat different modification from the reasoning process exhibited in the composition of some of the most distinguished sermon-writers. To say that he had much, very much of the essence and effect of reasoning without its forms will perhaps be considered as unqualified praise. Certainly we have a good rid- dance in the obsoleteness of the cumbrous and barbarous technicalities of logic, in use among schoolmen, and of which traces remain in the works of some of our old divines, especially of the polemic class. But, divested of every sort of technicality, a natural and easy logic (easy, I mean, for the hearers' or readers' apprehension) may pervade a dis- course in such manner that it shaU evidently have more of the con- sistence of a contexture than of an accumulation. The train of think- ing may preserve a link of connexion by the dependence of the follow- ing thought on the foregoing ; that succeeding thought not only being just in itself, and pertinent to the matter in hand, but being so still more specially in virtue of resulting, by obvious deduction, or necessary continuation, from the preceding; thus at once giving and receiving force by the connexion. It is of great advantage for the strength of a discourse, when it is so conceived as to require the not unfrequent recurrence of the signs, " for," " because," " if, then," " consequently," " so that," and the other familiar logical marks of conjunction and dependence in the series of ideas. This will not be mistaken to mean any thing like a long uninter- rupted process, as in a mathematical demonstration carried on in a rigorous strictness of method, and with a dependence of the validity of some one final result on the correctness of each and every movement in the long operation. No lengthened courses of deduction are required or admissible in popular instruction ; the discourse must, at no distant intervals, come to pauses and changes, introducing matters of argu- ment and illustration which are chosen by the preacher for their general pertinence and effectiveness to the subject, rather than by any strict logical rule of continuity; and he is not required to answer a captious question of a disciple of the schools whether this topic, and this again, be in the most exact line of sequence with tlie foregoing. It is sufficient that there be an obvious general relation, connecting the successive portions of tlie discourse ; so that each in the succession shall take along witli it the substantial effect of the preceding. Ihit through the extent of each of these portions, the course of thinking might be conducted in a certain order of consecutive dependence, which sliould make the thoughts not merely to coincide, but to verify and authenticate one another while they coincide in bearing on the proposed object. And such a mode of working them into evidence and application would give them a closer grapple on the mind. AS A PREACHER. 103 There will be testimony to this from the experience of readers con- versant with the best examples ; for instance, the sermons of South, which, glaringly censurable as many of them are on very grave accounts, are admirable for this linked succession, this passing to a further idea by consequence from the preceding, and not merely by that principle of relation between them, that they both tend to the same effect. Yet, at the same time, so far is he from exhibiting a cold dry argument, like Clarke in his sermons, that his ratiocination is abun- dantly charged with what may be called the matter of passion ; often indeed malicious and fierce, sometimes solemnly impressive ; at all events serving to show that strong argument may be worked in fire as well as in frost.* It has always appeared to me, that Mr. Hall's dis- courses would have had one more ingredient of excellence, if the rich and strong production of thought, while pressing, as it always did, with a united impulse towards the point in view, had been drawn out in a sequence of more express and palpable dependence and concatenation. The conjunction of the ideas would sometimes appear to be rather that of contiguity than of implication. The successive sentences would come like separate independent dictates of intellect, the absence of some of which would indeed have been a loss to the general force, but not a breach of connexion. It must be observed, however, that when special occasions required it, he would bring into exercise the most severe logic in the most explicit form. Many fine examples of this are found in his controversy on Terms of Communion. And such would, at times, occur in his sermons. Every cultivated hearer must have been struck with admiration of the preacher's mastery of language, — a refractory servant to many who have made no small efforts to command it. I know not whether he sometimes painfully felt its deficiency and untowardness for his pur- pose ; but it seemed to answer all his requirements, whether for cutting nice discriminations, or presenting abstractions in a tangible form, or investing grand subjects with splendour, or imparting a pathetic tone to expostulation, or inflaming the force of invective, or treating common topics without the insipidity of commonplace diction. His language in the pulpit was hardly ever colloquial, but neither was it of an arti- ficial cast. It was generally as little booJdsh as might consist with a uniformly sustained and serious style. Now and then there would be a scholastic term, beyond the popular understanding, so familiar to him- self, from his study of philosophers and old divines, as to be the first word occurring to him in his rapid delivery. Some conventional phrases which he Avas in the habit of using (for instance, " to usher in," " to give birth to," &c.) might better have been exchanged for plain unfigurative verbs. His language in preaching, as in conversa- tion, was in one considerable point better than in his well-known and elaborately composed sermons, in being more natural and flexible. When he set in reluctantly upon that operose employment, his style was apt to assume a certain processional stateliness of march, a rhe- torical rounding of periods, a too frequent inversion of the natural order of the sentence, with a morbid dread of degi-ading it to end in a par- ticle or other small-looking word ; a stiaicture in which I doubt whether the augmented appearance of strength and dignity be a compensation for the sacrifice of a natural, living, and variable freedom of compo- sition. A remarkable difference will be perceived between the higlily- * Among otners, I misht name Stillingfleet's sermons, as exemplifying this manner of connexion in the scries of ideas. If reference were made to ancient elofjuence, Demosthenes would be cited as the transcendent example of this e.xcellence. 104 MR. HALL'S CHARACTER wrpught sermons lone: since published, and the short ones now printed, which were written without a thought of the press ; a difference to the advantage of the latter in tlie grace of simplicity. Both in his conver- sation and his public speaking, there was often, besides and beyond the merit of clearness, precision, and brevity, a certain felicity of dic- tion ; something which, had it not been common in his discourse, would have appeared the special good luck of falling without care of selection on the aptest Avords, cast in elegant combination, and pro- ducing an effect of beauty even when there was nothing expressly ornamental. From the pleasure there is in causing and feeling surprise by the exaggeration of what is extraordinary into something absolutely mar- vellous, persons of Mr. Hall's acquaintance, especially in his earlier life, have taken great license of fiction in stories of his extemporaneous eloquence. It was not uncommon to have an admired sermon asserted to have been thrown off in an emergency on the strength of an hour's previous study. This matter has been set right in Dr. Gregory's curious and interesting note (prefixed to vol. i.) describing the preacher's usual manner of preparation ; and showing that it was generally made with deliberate care.* But whatever proportion of the discourse was from premeditation, the hearer could not distinguish that from what was extemporaneous. There were no periods betraying, by a me- chanical utterance, a mere recitation. Every sentence had so much the spirit and significance of present immediate thinking, as to prove it a living dictate of the speaker's mind, whether it came in the way of recollection or in the fresh production of the moment. And in most of his sermons, the more animated ones especially, a verj^ large pro- portion of what he spoke must have been of this immediate origination ; it was impossible that less than this should be the effect of the excited state of a mind so powerfid in thinking, so extremely prompt in the use of that power, and in possession of such copious materials. Some of his discourses were of a calm temperament nearly through- out ; even these, however, never failing to end with a pressing enforce- ment of the subject. But in a considerable portion of them (a large one, it is said, during all but a late period of his life) he warmed into emotion before he had advanced through what might be called the discussion. The intellectual process, the explications, arguments, and exemplifications, would then be animated, without being confused, obscured, or too much dilated by that more vital clement which we denominate sentiment; while striking figures, at intervals, emitted a momentary brightness ; so that the understanding, the passions, and the imagination of the hearers were all at once brought under command, by a combination of the forces adapted to seize possession of each. The sf>irit of such discourses would grow into intense fervour, even before they approached the conclusion. In the most admired of his sermons, and invariably in all his preach- ing, there was one excellence, of a moral kind, in which few eloquent preachers have ever equalled, and none ever did or will surpass him. It was so remarkable and obvious, that the reader (if having been also a hearer of Mr. Hall) will have gone before me wlien I name — oblivion of self. The preacher appeared wholly absorbed in his subject, given * Once, in a ronversation with a few friends who had led him to l.ilk of his preaching, and to answer, among oilier questions, one resiwolint this supposed and reported extemporaneous pro- duction of tlie most striking ))arts of his sermons in the early period of liis ministry, he surprised us by saying, tliai most of them, so far from being extemporaneous, had been so deliberately pre- pared that the words were selected, and the construction and order ofthe sentences adjusted. AS A PREACHER. l05 up to its possession, as the single actuating principle and impulse of the mental achievement which he was as if unconsciously performing : as if unconsciously ; for it is impossible it could be literally so ; yet his absorption was so evident, there was so clear an absence of every betraying sign of vanity, as to leave no doubt that reflection on himself, the tacit thought, 'It is I that am displaying this excellence of speech,' was the faintest action of his mind. His auditory were sure that it was as in relation to his subject, and not to himself, that he regarded the feelings with which they might hear him. What a contrast to divers showy and admired orators, whom the reader will remember to have seen in the pulpit and elsewhere ! For who has not witnessed, perhaps more times than a few, a pulpit exhi- bition, which unwittingly told that the speaker was to be himself as prominent, at the least, as his sacred theme ? Who has not observed the glimmer of a self-complacent smile, partly reflected, as it were, on his visage, from the plausive visages confronting him, and partly lighted from witliin, by the blandishment of a still warmer admirer ? Who has not seen him swelling with a tone and air of conscious importance in some specially /?nc passage ; prolonging it, holding it up, spreading out another and yet another scarlet fold, with at last a temporary stop to survey the assembly, as challenging their tributary looks of admiration, radiating on himself, or interchanged among sympathetic individuals in the congregation % Such a preacher might have done well to become a hearer for a while ; if indeed capable of receiving any corrective instruc- tion from an example of his reverse ; for there have been instances of preachers actually spoiling themselves still worse in consequence of hearing some of Mr. Hall's eloquent effusions ; assuming, beyond their previous sufficiency of such graces, a vociferous declamation, a forced look of force, and a tumour of verbiage, from unaccountable failure to perceive, or to make a right use of the perception, that his some- times impetuous delivery, ardent aspect, and occasionally magnificent diction were all purely spontaneous from the strong excitement of the subject. Under that excitement, when it was the greatest, he did unconsciously acquire a corresponding elation of attitude and expression ; would turn, though not with frequent change, towards the different parts of the assembly, and as almost his only peculiarity of action, would make one step back from his position (which, however, was instantly resumed) at the last word of a climax ; an action which inevitably suggested the idea of the recoil of heavy ordnance.* I mention so inconsiderable a circumstance, because I think it has somewhere lately been noticed with a hinted imputation of vanity. But to the feeling of his constant hearers, the cool and hypercritical equally with the rest, it was merely one of those effects which emotion always produces in the exterior in one mode or another, and was accidentally become associated v/ith the rising of his excitement to its highest pitch, just at the sentence which decisively clenched an argument, or gave the last strongest emphasis to an enforcement. This action never occurred but when there was a special emphasis in what he said. Thus the entire possession and actuation of his mind by his subject, * In sermons plainlj' and almost exclusively exegetical, or in which hotlily disorder repressed his characteristic enerIr. Hall's handwTiting is frequently so chaotic as to defy all interpretation ; and words, and short portions of sentences, are sometimes omitted. In such cases, the sense is supplied conjec- turally ; and. that the author may not be blamed for any imperfections in style or phraseology, which may thus be occasioned, the words introduced by the'editor are imifonnly placed between brackets, as above.— Ep. 16 SPIRITUALITY "OF THE DIVINE NATURE. No other being possesses any degree of them. And from these may be inferred his absolute, infinite perfection, rectitude, &;c. &c. This is the great, glorious, and fearful name, " The Lord our God."* II. THE SPIRITUALITY OF THE DIVINE NATURE. Isaiah xxxi. 3. — -The Egyptians are men, and not God; and their horses Jlesli, and not spirit, I. The spirituality of the Divine nature is intimately connected with the possession of almighty power. The vulgar notion which would restrict the exercise of power to what is corporeal, and deny it to that which is spiritual and immaterial, is a mere prejudice, founded on gross inattention or ignorance. It probably arises chief!)- from the resistance which bodies are found to oppose to the effort to remove or displace them. But so remote is this from active power, that it is entirely the effect of the vis inertim, or the tendency of matter to continue in the [same] state, whether it be of rest or of motion. If we inquire after the original seat of power, we shall invariably find it in mind, not in body ; in spirit, not in flesh. The changes we are able to effect in the state of the objecrs around us are produced through the instrumentality of the body, which is always previously put in motion by the mind. Volition, which is a faculty, if you please, or state of the mind, moves the muscles and the limbs, and those the various portions of matter by which we are sur- rounded ; so that, in every instance, it is the spirit or immaterial principle which originally acts, and produces all the subsequent changes. Take away the power of volition, which is a mental faculty, and our dominion over nature is at an end. Within a certain sphere, and to a certain extent, the will is absolute ; and the moment we will a certain motion of the body, that motion takes place. Though we are far from supposing that the Deity is the soul of the world, as some have vainly asserted, the power which the mind exerts over certain motions of the body may furnish an apt illustration of the control which the Supreme Spirit possesses over the universe. As we can move certain parts of our bodies at pleasure, and nothing intervenes between the volition and the corresponding movements, so the great original Spirit impresses on the machine of the universe what movements he pleases, and without the intervention of any other ♦ Deut. xxviii. 58. SPIRITUALITY OF THE DIVINE NATURE. 17 cause. " He speaks, and it is done ; he commands, and it stands fast."* Since it is impossible to conceive of motion arising of its own accord among bodies previously at rest, and motion is not essential to matter, but merely an incidental state, no account can be given of the begin- ning of motion but from the previous existence of mind ; and, however numerous and complicated the links through which it is propagated, however numerous the bodies which are successively moved or im- pelled by each other, it must necessarily have originated in something immaterial, that is, in mind or spirit. It is as a Spirit that the Deity is the original author of all those successive changes and revolutions which take place in the visible universe arranged by unsearchable wisdom, to which it owes all its harmony, utility, and beauty. It is as a Spirit that he exists distinct from it, and superior to it, presiding over it with the absolute dominion of Proprietor and Lord, employing every part of it as an instrument passive in his hand, and perfectly subservient to the accomplishment of his wise and benevolent designs. To this great Father of Spirits the very minds which he has formed are in a state of mysterious subordination and subjection, so as to be for ever incapable of transgressing the secret bounds he has allotted them, or doing any thing more, whatever they may propose or intend, than concur in executing his plan, or fulfilling his counsel. II. His spirituality is closely connected with his invisibdity : " The King eternal, immortal, invisible,"! " whom no man hath seen, or can see."J Whatever is the object of sight must be perceived under some deter- minate shape or figure ; it must be, consequently, bounded by an out- line, and occupy a determinate portion of space, and no more ; attributes utterly incompatible with the conception of an infinite Being. He was pleased formerly, indeed, to signalize his presence with his worshippers by visible symbols, by an admixture of clouds and fire, of darkness and splendour ; but that these were never intended to exhibit his power, but merely to afford a sensible attestation of his special presence, is evident, from the care he took to prevent his worshippers from enter- taining degrading conceptions of his character, by the solemn prohibi- tion of attempting to represent him by an image or picture. And after he had appeared to the congregation of Israel on the mount, Moses is commanded to remind them that they saw no similitude. (Here speak of the impiety of the Church of Rome, as to tUese points.) The only visible representation of the Deity which revelation sanc- tions is found in his Son incarnate, in "Emmanuel, God with us :"^ " who is the Image of the invisible God."|| The picturing of the Deity tends to produce degrading conceptions of the divine nature, partly as it circumscribes what is unlimited, and partly, since the human form will generally be selected, by leading men to mingle with the idea of God the imperfections and passions of human nature. » Ps. xxxiii. 9. t 1 Tim. i. 17. { 1 Tim. vi. 16. § Matt. 1. 23. || Col. i 15. Vol. III.— B 18 SPIRITUALITY OF THE DIVINE NATURE. III. That God is spirit, and not flesh, is a view of his character closely connected with his omnipresence. " Whither shall I go from thy spirit, and whither shall I flee from thy presence ? If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there ; if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there. If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me. If I 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.''* Matter is subjected to a local circumscription ; God, as a spirit, is capable of coexisting with every other order of being. IV. Because God is a spirit, and not flesh, he is possessed of infinite v/isdom and intelligence. Thought and perception are the attributes of mind, not of matter ; of spirit, and not of flesh ; and for this reason, the original and great Spirit possesses them in an infinite degree. They cannot belong to matter, because matter is divisible into an infinite number of parts ; so that, if the power of thinking subsists in these, there are in reality as many distinct thiaiking principles as there are parts, and the mind of every individual must be a congeries, or assemblage of an infinite number of minds. But if thought subsists in none of the parts separately taken, it cannot subsist in the whole : because a whole is nothing more or less than all the parts considered together, and nothing can be found in the whole but what previously exists iu the several parts. During the union between the soul and the body, the organs of the latter become the instruments of perception ; but it is the mind alone which thinks, which alone is conscious, which sees in the eye, hears in the ear, feels in the touch. The Infinite Spirit is, consequently, all eye, all ear, all intelligence, perception and V. The spirituality of the Divine Nature lays a foundation for the most intimate relation between the intelligent part of the creation and himself. He is emphatically " the Father of spirits." The relation of the parent to the child is very intimate and close, because the parent is the instrument of his being ; but God is the Author. The earthly parent is our father after the flesh, the heavenly is our father after the spirit ; and in proportion as the mind constitutes the most important portion of our nature, the relation subsisting between us and God is the most interesting and the most essential. "He is not far from any of us, seeing we are his offspring : in him we live, and move, and have our being.'"t The body connects us with the external universe ; the soul connects us with God. The flesh is his production ; the spirit is his image : and, as the former separates us from him by a dissimilarity of nature, so the latter assimilates us to him by the possession of principles and laws congenial with his own. VI. The spirituality of the Divine Nature fits him for becoming our eternal portion and supreme good. That which constitutes and secures our felicity must be something out of ourselves ; since we find our- • Ps. cxxxix. 7-12. t Acts xvii. 27, 28. THE SOCINIAN CONTROVERSY. 19 selves utterly inadequate to be the source of our own enjoyment, we find that without allying ourselves to an object distinct from our own nature we are desolate and miserable. To retire within our own nature in quest of happiness is an idle and fruitless attempt. The mind feels itself fettered and imprisoned, until it is allowed to go forth and unite itself to some foreign object. Again, to form the happiness of a mind must be the prerogative of something superior to itself; nor is there any greater superiority con- ceivable than that of being the source of enjoyment, the bestower of happiness on another. But while it is superior, it must be congenial in its nature. A spiritual being must possess spiritual happiness ; the proper enjoyment of the mind must consist in something mental. III. OUTLINE OF THE ARGUMENT OF TWELVE LECTURES ON THt SOCINIAN CONTROVERSY.* Introductory Lecture. Jude 3. — It was needful for mc to write unto you, and exhort you, that ye should earnestly contend for the faith which xoas once delivered to the saints. Lecture II. ON the PRE-EXISTENCE of CHRIST. Matt. xxii. 41, 42. — While the Pharisees were gathered together, Jesus asked them, saying, What think ye of Christ ? whose son is he ? Four classes of passages adduced in proof of this. I. Those passages which speak of the origin of Jesus Christ, and which accompany this by a specification of " the flesh" in such a formula that the flesh is never employed in a similar manner in the history of men. II. Those passages in which it is afiirmed by Jesus Christ and by his disciples, that he did come down from heaven to the earth, and that by virtue of his name. • Delivered at Leicester in 1823. B2 80 THE SOCIXIAN CONTROVERSY. III. Those passages Avliich, thoiigh they do uot exactly assert that Jesus Christ existed before he came into our world, yet this is the necessary conclusion from them. IV. One passage in which our Lord directly affirms this proposition in so many words, and no other proposition. (John viii. 58.) Lecture III. ON THE DIV'INITY OF CHRIST. Matt. xxii. 41, 42. This attempted to be proved from those passages in which the titles of God are ascribed to Jesus Christ, of which there are three kinds : I. Those in which he is styled the Son of God. II. Those in which he is styled, not the Son of God, but God himself. III. Those which are quoted by the apostles from the Old Testa- ment, in which the word Jehovah is ascribed to Jesus Christ. Lecttjre IV. The Divinity of Christ proved from those passages in which the creation of the visible universe is ascribed to the Lord Jesus Christ. I. This fact established by Scripture testimony, and II. The attention directed to the necessary conclusion which is to be derived from it, That if Jesus Christ appear by Scripture testimony to be the Creator of all things, he is necessarily God ; since the primary idea which man entertains of God identifies those perfections which created the world with the existence of Deity. Lecture V. THE DIVINITY OF CHRIST PROVED FROM HIS BEING THE OBJECT OF DIVINE WORSHIP. Vl^orship may be considered as mental or local. It is to mental worship, as consisting of those sentiments of adoration of the Deity for his great mercies, a dependence upon the Author of them, a desire of liis favour, and submission to his will, which mark every devout Christian, and expressed in the language of prayer or praise, to which this part of the discussion is chiefly confined. THE SOCINIAN CONIROVERSY. 21 Lecture VI. THE DIVINITY OF CHRIST PROVED FROM CERTAIN MISCELLANEOUS CONSIDERATIONS, WHICH COULD NOT WITH CONVENIENCE BE RE- DUCED TO ANY ONE HEAD, SIMILAR TO THOSE ALREADY BROUGHT FORWARD. I. If Jesus Christ be not a divine person, let me say, it is utterly inconceivable how he can dischargee the office and assumption of Head of the Church, and Lord of the Ciiristian dispensation. II. The simple humanity of Christ is utterly inconsistent with those perfections which are ascribed to the Saviour, since there is not a single attribute of the divine nature which is not found ascribed in different forms to our Lord Jesus Christ. III. The idea of the simple humanity of Christ is utterly incom- patible with that ardour of sentiment of which he is represented in every part of Scripture as the object. IV. The divinity of Christ is plain, from the fact of his beuig created and appointed the Judge of the universe. Lecture VII. THE DIVINITY OF CHRIST PROVED TO BE NOT A NEW DOCTRINE, BUT THAT IT WAS KNOWN BEFORE THE NICENE COUNCIL HELD IN THE BEGINNING OF THE FOURTH CENTURY, BY REFERENCES TO THE FATHERS : BARNABAS, HERMAS, IGNATIUS, CLEMENS ROMANUS, POLY- CARP, JUSTIN MARTYR, THEOPHILUS BISHOP OF ANTIOCH, IRENiEUS, TERTULLIAN, CLEMENS ALEXANDRINUS, ORIGEN, AND CYPRIAN. [The above five Lectures upon the Divinity of Christ were preached from the same text : — Matt. xxii. 41, 42.] Lecture VIII. ON THE PERSONALITY OF THE HOLY SPIRIT. Matt, xxviii. 19. — Go ye, therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. The first proof of the personality of the Holy Spirit appears to result from the manner in which the Spirit, whatever is intended by that word, is mentioned in the Scriptures. In order to understand this, it is necessary to reflect upon the meaning of the word " SpiriL" 22 THE SOCINIAN CONTROVERSY. The first meaning of the term Spirit is wind, or breath. (John iii. 8.) The next use of the term Spirit, in the Scriptures and other writers, in analogy to this, is to denote the invisible and immaterial part of man, in distinction from that which is corporeal, fleshly, and tangible. (Matt. xxvi. 41.) Again, it is applied to those supernatural agents who are supposed not to be clothed with gross flesh and blood, and not to be possessed of bodies, or any fleshly vehicle whatever. (Luke xxiv. 39; x. 17, 20.) The fourth meaning of this term is very agreeable to the former. By way of distinction, the word Spirit is applied to the third person in the blessed Trinity ; that is, The Spirit, by way of eminence ; and it appears to be so employed when it is preceded by the definite article, TO TTvtvua, The Spirit. The second argument on this subject is derived from the obvious consideration, that the particular acts which are ascribed to the Holy Spirit and its inspirations, are such as are totally inconsistent with any idea but that of his being a proper person. Speaking is ascribed to the Holy Spirit. (2 Sam. xxiii. 2 ; 1 Tim. iv. 1 ; Acts xiii. 2.) Approbation is ascribed to the Spirit. (Acts xv. 28.) The passion of grief is often applied to the Spirit of God. (Eph. iv. 30; Isaiah Ixiii. 10.) Suffering or permitting is predicated of the Holy Spirit. (Acts xvi. 7.) Sin can be committed against nothino- but a person ; but Peter addresses Ananias in these words, " Why hath Satan filled thy heart to lie to the Holy Gliost?" &;c. (Acts v. 3, 4 ; Matt. xii. 32.) The third argument for the personality of the Holy Spirit is derived from the personal pronouns applied to the Spirit of God, in such a manner as cannot be accounted for, except upon the obvious supposi- tion of the intention of our Saviour to represent the Spirit of God under the character of a person. (John xiv. 16-26; xv. 26; xvi. 13.) In the fourth place, the passage which has been taken as the foun- dation of this discourse appears to afford an irrefutable proof of the truth for which we are contending ; because the Holy Spirit is here associated in such a manner with two real and divine persons as M'ould render the connexion unaccountable, if a real person was not under- stood in the third, as well as in the two former instances. Lecture IX. ON THE atonement. 1 Cor. XV. 3. — For I deliorrcd uiito you first of all that which I also received, how that Christ died for our sins, according to the Scriptures. I. The first argument in proof of the atonement of Christ is, that the death of the Saviour is repeatedly stated to be a proper sacrifice. THE SOCmiAN CONTROVERSY. 23 Lecture X. ON THE ATONEMENT. 1 Cor. XV. 3. II. The second argument for this doctrine is this : That the import- ance which the inspired writers attach to the blood of Christ is utterly inconsistent with the Socinian hypothesis, of his death being merely an example, and as that of a martyr sealing his testimony with his blood. III. The inspired writers mention the subject of the death of Christ in such a manner as implies its being a real and proper substitution. IV. The Scriptures in numerous passages declare that Jesus Christ is the proper cause and author of our salvation, and all the spiritual benefits which the gospel announces. V. The exaltation of Jesus Christ at the head of the universe, which is expressly declared to be the reward of his sufferings and death, is utterly linconsistent with any supposition short of their being expiatory. Lecture XL ON THE PERSONALITY AND REAL EXISTENCE OF SATAN. Matt. iv. 1. — Then was Jesus led up by the Spirit into the wilderness., to be tempted of the devil. The evidence for this proposition must be a matter of pure revelation ; for when we consider the innumerable multitude of beings inferior to us, — a chain that descends from ourselves to the very verge of nonentity, by such mutations of littleness that they are for ever eluding our senses, — they leave it uncertain that there are not as many besides in the middle stages as in open vision. The inference, rather than the contrary, is that they exist in an equal scale — that there are as many gradations of beings raised above us, as there are beneath us. An ascending series is as probable as the descending, though we may not be as familiar with one as with the other. Nor is it improbable that there are invisible or spiritual agents in an inferior order to man. When we consider the infinite variety of forms of which nature is susceptible, it is not improbable that there are in existence beings, either purely spiritual, or possessed of a vehicle so refined as to elude our senses, and therefore justly styled spirits. But here let us consider the tenor of Scripture on this subject : — I. The sacred record gives us an idea of a spiritual order of beings styled angels. II. Let us examine the solutions given by the Socinians of the language of Scripture on this subject, and see whether these solutions will answer the various occasions on which it occurs, and whether the 24 ON CHRIST'S DIVINITY difficulty of tlie passages can be considered as removed by the inter- pretation wliich these solutions suggest. Those who oppose the doctrine of the real existence of Satan sup- pose in general that the words Satan and Devil, are used as a prosopopoeia, or personification, though what they are intended to personify they cannot agree [about]. Sometimes they are supposed to personify evil in the abstract ; at other times, the Jewish magistrates and priests ; at other times, the Roman magistrates and rulers ; and at other times, a personal enemy to the apostle Paul in the church. Lecture XII. ON THE SPIRIT OF SOCDHANISM. Psalm xix. 7. — The law of the Lord is perfect, converting the soul; the testimony of the Lord is sure, making wise the simple. I. It is a peculiar characteristic of this system, that as far as it is distinguished from the orthodox, it consists entirely of negations, and is marked by its possessing nothing of all, or nearly all, of those doc- trines which the other parts of the professed disciples of Jesus Christ consider most precious and most saving. II. Unitarianism has a close affinity to Deism. III. Another feature in this system is its anti-devotional character. IV. A remarkable feature in the system of the Socinians is their mixture along with their doctrine of metaphysical speculation, which is more replete with danger than any of the errors before mentioned. V. Another feature in this system is the tame submission to human authority, which seems to distinguish above all other persons those who compose the class styled Modern Unitarians. VI. The last feature which I shall mention in the system of the Socinians is their zeal for proselytism. IV. ON CHRIST'S DIVINITY AND CONDESCENSION. Phil. ii. 5-9. — Let this mind be in you, lohich was also in Christ Jesus : who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God; but made himself of no reputation* That species of excellence to which such language can be applied with sobriety, must be carried to a height and perfection which requires * Mr. Hall's notes, here (fiven, do not present an outline of the whole sermon, but merely a state- ment of the principal part of the argument. .\ tolerably full account of the entire sermon, as it wafl jireached in London, in June 1813, will be inserted hereafter.— Ed. AND CONDESCENSION. 25 no ingenuity to discover it ; it must strike all eyes, and ravish all hearts. But since it is benevolence, not in the general idea of it, but under the specific form of condescension, that we are seeking after, we are under the necessity of looking, in the passage before us, for some obvious and striking contrast or opposition between the dignity of the Saviour, and those instances in which he appeared to depart from that dignity. A visible disparity must subsist between what he did, and what he might, from his pre-eminent elevation, have been expected to do. A part of the Saviour's character to which the inspired writers are continually adverting, and on which they dwell with impassioned energy, must unquestionably present itself in a very conspicuous light, so that no interpretation can for a moment be admitted, which requires much ingenuity to discover the very existence of that virtue it is adduced to illustrate. There are two opposite opinions entertained respecting the person of Christ, to which, without adverting to the intermediate ones, we shall at present confine our attention, with a view to determine which of these accords best with the professed design of the apostle in intro- ducing it, which is, to illustrate the wonderful condescension of the Son. The first of these opinions involves the divinity of Christ, supposing him to be the proper Son of God, who assumed our nature into a per- sonal union with himself; and, having in that nature lived a life of poverty and humiliation, expired on the cross for human redemption. The second considers him as a mere man, who had no existence what- ever till he came into our world. Now, let us consider which of these two opposite views best accords with the passage under consideration, contemplated as a professed illustration of his marvellous condescension, " Who being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God." We are willing to admit the correction of the common version, suggested by our opponents, and consider the meaning of the latter clause, that he " did not eagerly retain the likeness of God." The force of the adverb which introduces the subsequent clause, and the general structure of the passage, appear to me to justify such an alteration ; nor are we aware of any advantage occurring to the system we oppose by such a rendering. The Socinians suppose that the purport of this member of the sentence is to assert, that though our Lord was possessed of miraculous power, by which he might have drawn to himself that homage which' is only due to the Supreme Being, yet he declined making such a use of these powers. The first instance of his match- less humility and condescension, on their hypothesis, is in his not impiously turning the weapons with which he was armed against their Author, thus employing himself to establish in his own person that which it was one great end of his mission to subvert. That humility with whicli the apostle was so much enraptured [consisted, then,] in not being guilty of the grossest ingratitude and impiety ; in not betray- ing his trust by advancing his own honour and interest on the ruins of his from whom he derived his commission. That our Saviour could 26 ON CHRIST'S DIVINITY not have acted the part which he is supposed to have declined in this instance will surely be admitted ; but what a preposterous illustration is that of matchless condescension, which is placed in a mere abstinence from impiety and rebellion ! From the preliminary remarks we have made, I trust it must be sufficiently evident that this cannot be the illustration which St. Paul designed to furnish of unparalleled lowliness and condescension. It deserves to be remarked, too, that in this sense "the form of God" belongs equally to every person who has possessed miraculous powers to an extent not inferior to those exerted by our Saviour, which, as we learn both from the Acts of the Apostles and from the express language of the Saviour himself, was the case with his apostles. In consequence of those powers, St. Paul was on one occasion made an object of idolatry, which he disclaimed with the utmost vehemence and abhor- rence ; so far was he from assuming any extraordinary merit on account of declining so impious a distinction. Besides, let me ask, would such a use of the supernatural succours afforded our Saviour as to suffer them to be the occasion of his being worshipped have pro- duced their withdrawment ? If they would not, there must be some legitimate ground for his being worshipped inapplicable to every other case. If they would, what is there admirable in his declining to convert them to a purpose which he knew would issue in their extinction ? Can the inspired writer be supposed for a moment to introduce, with so much pomp and solemnity, a branch of our Lord's conduct which the smallest portion of prudence sufficiently accounts for 1 "He made himself of no reputation," or, more literally, "he emptied himself," "he divested himself," the writer most unquestionably means, of somewhat which he heretofore possessed. But of what, on the hypothesis of the simple humanity of Christ, did he divest himself? As this clause commences the positive statement of the instances of his humility, preceded by, contrasted with the dignity involved in the attribute of " being in the form of God," it seems necessary to under- stand it in relation to that prior dignity. But this, on the Socinian hypothesis, is impossible, since they place the form of God in his possession of miraculous energ)', of those supernatural powers of which, from the time of his entering on his ministry, he neither divested himself at any time nor suspended the exercise. " My Father worketh hitherto, and I work ;" nor is there the slightest intimation throughout the whole evangelical history, that his humility was ren- dered conspicuous by his declining the exercise of miraculous powers. Here then the illustration, upon the supposition we are combating, completely fails at the very outset, from the total absence of that bold and striking contrast which the first member of the sentence leads us to expect. The form of God is attributed to him as the basis of a certain elevation, let its precise import be what it may. And when the antithetic form of expression prepares us to expect something opposed to it, our expectation is frustrated, and the form of God is still retained. Did this divesture consist of his descending from a superior station in society ? But this he never possessed. His worldly rank AND CONDESCENSION. 27 and estimation, humble as it was, was as great in the last as in the first period of his ministry. To decline a possible distinction, and to lay aside a distinction already possessed, are certainly things very distinct ; nor is it easy to conjecture why, if the former was intended, the latter is expressed : besides that, admitting such a confusion of language to be possible, the conception conveyed bears no relation to the form of God. The words of the apostle evidently suppose that our Saviour pos- sessed, in the first instance, some great and extraordinary distinction ; that, in the execution of his commission, from motives of pure benevo- lence, he submitted to a state of great comparative meanness and humiliation. The order of the words, as well as the very species of excellence they are designed to illustrate and enforce, necessitate the placing of the dignified attribute first. But on the hypothesis of the simple humanity of Christ, the real order of things, the actual course of events, is just the reverse. Our Saviour, on that hypothesis, was elevated immensely above his native condition by his delegation as the Messiah, and from a state of extreme obscurity and poverty, he became, in consequence of it, possessed of the form of God. His poverty and meanness compose the first stage of his history -, and whatever eleva- tion above his equals he afterward possessed, was purely the effect of his appointment to the office of the Messiah. So that in the office he sustains he exhibits a marvellous instance of incredible elevation from meanness, instead of affording a striking example of voluntary humiliation. On the Socinian hypothesis, the whole of what is truly admirable is, that a mean and obscure individual should have been raised from so much meanness, not that he voluntarily submitted to it. It must be obvious to the thoughtful and intelligent that this hypothesis completely frustrates the design of the passage, and presents the whole matter in an inverted position. His public undertaking, in the room of affording an unparalleled instance of condescending benevolence, is the greatest example of eminent virtue conducting to illustrious honour the world ever witnessed. In a complex train of action, involving considerable space of time and a great variety of events, if there be any conspicuous feature insisted on in the character of the agent, it ought to be of such a nature as to pervade the whole mass. The benevolence and condescension of our Lord are uniformly represented by the inspired writer as actuating him in the whole course of his proceedings, as the chief spring of his conduct, so as to characterize his whole undertaking. " Ye know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ," saith St. Paul, " how that tliough he was rich, yet for our sakes he became poor, that we through his poverty might become rich." His giving himself for the church is celebrated as a most interesting instance of condescension and love. But if, apart from his public engagements, as the great Teacher sent from God, he possessed no separate nor original dignity, — if to •these engagements he is indebted for all that distinguished him above the meanest peasant in Galilee, what candour or sobriety appear in 6uch representations ? If we listen to the writers of the New Testa- 28 ^ ON THE SPIRIT AND TENDENCY raent, his undertaking the office he sustained was a proof of matchless humility ; if we look to the facts, we find all the honour he ever pos- sessed was the pure result of these offices. That it is possible to combine with such views of his character the admission of an eminent portion of virtue, we are far from denying ; but it is not that sort of virtue, nor includes any of that sacrihce of personal honour and interest, which such representation supposes. ON THE SPIRIT AND TENDENCY OF SOCINIANrSM. Psalm xix. 7. — The law of the Lord is per-fect, converting the soul : the testimony of the Lord is sure, making wise the simple. The minute examination of the minor parts of a great and complex object will not suffice to give us a just conception of it, unless it is joined with an attentive survey of it as a whole. We havo hitherto been occupied with the consideration of the errors of the Socinian or Unitarian system in detail. We have endeavoured to evince the opposi- tion of several of its fundamental tenets to the clear, unequivocal testi- mony of Scripture ; and in the course of the inquiry have felt the necessity of descending to minute distinctions and tedious discussions. Could we even suppose thereasoning employed in the several branches of this extensive argument to have wrought all the conviction we could wish, the conclusion might still continue destitute of an adequate im- pression of the general character and tendency of the system against which these discourses have been directed. Instead of attempting a recapitulation of the topics discussed and the arguments adduced, useless as it would possibly be if slight and general, and insufferably tedious if accurate and extensive, allow me to close these lectures by directing your attention to some of the distinguishing characteristics of the system designated by the appellation of Modern Unitarianism. I. It will occur to the most superficial observer to remark, that as far as it differs from the orthodox, it is almost entirely a negative system, consisting in a bold denial of nearly all the doctrines which other denominations are wont to regard as the most vital and the most precious. It snatches from us almost every thing to which our affec- tions have been habituated to cling, without presenting them with a single new object. It is a cold negation, a system of renunciation and dissent, imparting that feeling of desolation to the heart which is inseparable from the extinction of ancient attachments, teaching us no longer to admire, to adore, to trust, or to love — but with a most impaired and attenuated affection — objects in the contemplation of which we before deemed it OF SOCINIANISM. 29 safe, and even obligatory, to lose ourselves in the indulgence of these delightful emotions. Under the pretence of simplifying Christianity, it obliterates so many of its discoveries, and retrenches so many of its truths, — so little is left to occupy the mind, to fill the imagination, or to touch the heart, — that when the attracting novelty and the heat of disputation are subsided, it speedily consigns its converts to apathy and indift'erence. He who is wont to expatiate in the wide field of revelation, surrounded by all that can gratify the sight or regale the senses, reposing in its green pastures and beside the still, transparent waters, reflecting the azure of the heavens, the lily of the valley, and the cedar of Lebanon, no sooner approaches the confines of Socinianism, than he enters on a dreary and melancholy waste. Whatever is most sweet and attractive in religion, — whatever of the grandeur that elevates, or the solemnity that awes the mind, is inseparably connected with those truths it is the avowed object of that system to subvert ; and since it is not what we deny, but what we believe, that nourishes piety, no wonder it lan- guishes under so meager and scanty a diet. The littleness and poverty of the Socinian system ultimately ensures its neglect, because it makes no provision for that appetite for the immense and magnificent which the contemplation of nature inspires and gratifies, and which even reason itself prompts us to anticipate in a revelation from the Eternal Mind. By stripping religion of its mysteries, it deprives it of more than half its power. It is an exhausting process, by which it is reduced to its lowest terra. It consists in affirming that the writers of the New Testament were not, properly speaking, inspired, nor infallible guides in divine matters ; that Jesus Christ did not die for our sins, nor is the proper object of worship, nor even impeccable ; that there is 7iot any provision made in the sanctification of the Spirit for the aid of spiritual weakness, or the cure of spiritual maladies ; that we have not an intercessor at the right-hand of God ; that Christ is not present with his saints, nor his saints, when they quit the body, present with the Lord ; that man is not composed of a material and immaterial principle, but consists merely of organized matter, which is totally dissolved at death. To look for elevation of moral sentiment from such a series of pure negations would be " to gather grapes of thorns, and figs of thistles," — to extract " sunbeams from cucumbers." II. From hence we naturally remark the close affinity between the Unitarian system and Deism. Aware of the off'ence which is usually taken at observations of this sort, I would much rather waive them, were the suppression of so important a circumstance compatible with doing justice to the subject. Deism, as distinguished from atheism, embraces almost every thing which the Unitarians profess to believe. The Deist professes to believe in a future state of rewards and punish- ments,— the Unitarian does no more. The chief difl^erence is, that the Deist derives his conviction on the subject from the principles of natural religion ; the Unitarian from the fact of Christ's resurrection. Both arrive at the same point, though they reach it by different routes, 30 ON THE SPIRIT AXD TENDENCY Both maintain the same creed, though on different grounds : so that, allowing the Deist to be fully settled and confirmed in his persuasion of a future world, it is not easy to perceive what advantage the Unita- rian possesses over him. If the proofs of a future state upon Chris- tian principles, be acknowledged more clear and convincing than is attainable merely by the light of nature, yet as the operation of opinion is measured by the strength of the persuasion whh which it is embraced, and not by the intrinsic force of evidence, the Deist, who cherishes a firm expectation of a life to come, has the same motives for resisting temptation, and patiently continuing in well doing, as the Unitarian. He has learned the same lesson, though under a different master, and is substantially of the same religion. The points in which they coincide are much more numerous, and more important, than those in which they differ. In their ideas of liuman nature, as being what it always was, in opposition to the doc- trine of the fall; in their rejection of the Trinity, and of all supernat- ural mysteries ; in their belief of the intrinsic efficacy of repentance, and the superfluity of an atonement ; in their denial of spiritual aids, or internal grace ; in their notions of the person of Christ ; and, finally, in that lofty confidence in the sufficiency of reason as a guide in the aft'airs of religion, and its authority to reject doctrines on the ground of antecedent improbability ; — in all these momentous articles they concur. If the Deist boldly rejects the claims of revelation in toto, the Unitarian, by denying its plenary inspiration, by assuming the fallibility of tlie apostles, and even of Christ himself, and by resolving its most sublime and mysterious truths into metaphors and allegory, treads close in his steps. It is the same soul which animates the two systems, though residing in different bodies ; it is the same metal transfused into distinct moulds. Though Unitarians repel, with sufficient indignation, the charge of symbolizing with Deists, when advanced by the orthodox, they are so conscious of its truth that they sometimes acknowledge it themselves. In a letter to Mr. Lindsey, Dr. Priestley, speaking of the celebrated Jefferson, President of the United States when he arrived at America, says, " he is generally reported to be an unbeliever ;" he adds, " but if so, you know he cannot be far from us." (Here introduce the passages from Smith's Testimony, Vol. I.) There was a certain period in my life when I was in habits of con- siderable intercourse with persons who, to say the least, possessed no belief in Christianity. Of these, it was never my lot to meet with one who did not avow great satisfaction in the progress of Socinian- ism: they appeared to feel a most cordial sympathy "with it, and to view its triumphs as their own. They undoubtedly considered it as the natural opening through which men escape from the restraints of revealed religion ; as the high road to that complete emancipation which awaits them in the regions of perfect light and liberty. Whoever has attentively investigated tlie spirit of modern infidelity must perceive that its enmity is pointed chiefly to those very doctrines which Unitarians deny ; that their dislike is not so much to the grand OF SOCINIANISM. 31 notion of a future state of rewards and punishments, which sober Theista admit, as to the belief of the fall and the corruption of human nature, which are professed as the basis of the doctrine of redemption. It is, as it originally was, the cross of Christ which is foolishness to these Greeks ; and here our opponents are confederated with them, and affirm themselves most faithful and zealous allies. Infidels, however they may dissent from the pretensions to a revelation, will feel no lively interest in impugning it while it imposes no necessity of believing what materially contradicts their prejudices and passions. Their quarrel is not so much with the medium of communication as with the doctrine conveyed : and here Socinianism offers a most amicable ac- commodation, by assuring them of a future state, in which the perfec- tions of the Supreme Being oblige him to render them eternally happy. These men are not so perverse as to feel any repugnance to a Deity who has no punitive justice, and an eternity which has no hell. It is the constant boast of our opponents, that their system gives them such an advantage in an attempt to win over infidels to the Christian cause, by its being purged of those doctrines which afford the chief matter of offence ; and in this representation there is doubtless some appear- ance of truth. But whether, upon that account, they are likely to be more successful in converting [them] than ourselves, may well be made a question. For, in the first place, they Avill not find it so easy a task as they suppose to convince them that the obnoxious tenets are not the doctrines of the gospel ; and next, if they should succeed in this, the difference between their system and pure Theism is so slight and inconsiderable, as to make it appear a matter of great indifference which they adopt. Unless they are prepared to call in question the moral attributes of Deity and a future state, they are all in possession of the Unitarian gospel already, and that by a mode of acquisition more flattering to the pride of reason. In a much vaunted seminary, or college, as it was called, established above thirty years back, for the avowed purpose of propagating Unitarianism throughout the king- dom, I have the highest authority* for affirming that a great proportion of the students became skeptics and unbelievers, and of none more than from those who attended the theological lectures. Had that insti- tution continued, it bid fair to become the most prolific hot-bed of infi- delity this country ever knew. Among those who had an education completely Socinian, it is matter of palpable observation, that infidelity has prevailed to a great extent ; nor will the genuine tendency of that system have an opportunity of completely developing itselfj in this respect, until the existing generation is swept away. In the denomi- nation where it chiefly prevails, it has recently supplanted Arianism, under which the greater part of its present disciples were educated, so that its influence in the formation of character has been shared with a preceding system, which, however erroneous, is far removed from that total abandonment of all the peculiarities of the gospel which is involved in the Socinian creed. * Hackney College. The authority here referred to ia that of the late Dr. Alsrahain Rees, who was one of the professors. — Ed. 32 OX THE SPIRIT AND TENDENCY Fas est et ah hoste doccri. Surely the complacency felt by the avowed enemies of the Christian religion for a particular modification of it, is not without its instruction or its warning ; since, allowing them the ordinary sagacity necessary to discern their own interests, we may be sure they perceive in the object of their predilection the seeds of ruin to the Christian cause ; that they plainly see that Unitarianism is a stepping-stone to inridclity, and that the first stage of the progress facilitates and ahnost secures the next. III. A third feature in the Unitarian system is the unfavourable in- fluence it exerts on the spirit of devotion. It appears to have little or no connexion with the religion of the heart. Of all high and raised afl'ections to God proudly ignorant ; love to Christ, involving that ar- dent attachment which enthrones him in the soul, and subordinates to him every created object, it systematically explodes, imder the pretence of its being either enthusiastic or impossible. Mr. Belshani, in a recent work, argues at large against indulging, or pretending to indulge, any particular attachment to the person of the Saviour, such as he acknowledges his immediate disciples felt, but which, according to him, is no longer the duty of Christians of the present day. The only reason he assigns for this bold assault on the most vital part of prac- tical Christianity is the invisibility of our Saviour, — a reason urged in open contempt of the sentiments of an inspired apostle, " whom," said he, "having not seen, ye love; in whom, though now ye see him not, yet believing, ye rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory."* By parity of reason, God, who is essentially hivisible, must cease to be the object of our affections ; and the obligation of loving him with all our heart and all our strength is at once cancelled and destroyed. The devotional feelings inculcated in the Bible are intimately and inseparably interwoven with humility and gratitude — the humility and gratitude of a penitent and redeemed sinner. That he who is forgiven much will love much, is the decision of our Lord ; while he to whom little is forgiven M'ill love little. f But the perpetual tendency of the Socinian system extenuates the evil of sin, and the magnitude of the danger to which it exposes the sinner, and is calculated to weaken, beyond expression, the force of the motives [they supply.] By asserting the intrinsic efficacy of repentance, to the exclusion of the merits of the Redeemer, it makes every man his own Saviour ; it directs his atteiuion to himself, as the source to which he ascribes the removal of guiU, and the renovation of hope ; nor will it permit him to adopt, in any obvious and intelligible sense, the rapturous language of the redeemed, " To him who loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood." Taught to consider the Lord Jesus Christ in no other light tlian as the most perfect example and the most enlightened of teachers, and believing that he has already bestowed all the benefits he is empowered to bestow, it is in vain to look for that consecration of the heart to liis love, and of all the faculties of body and mind to his service, which may reasonably be expected from him who looks • 1 Pet. i. 8. t Luke vii. 47. OF SOCINIANISM. 33 tpon himself as a Iraphy of his power, and as the purchase of his blood. Not viewing himself as at any time exposed to condemnation, you must not expect him to celebrate, with elevated emotion, the riches of Divine grace, much less that he should be transported with gratitude to God for the inestimable love evinced in the gift of his Son ; when he considers it a high attainment to have learned that this Son is a mere man, on a level with himself. The unhappy disciple of this system is necessarily separated and cut off from the objects most adapted to touch the springs of religious sensibility. He knows nothing of a transition " from death unto life ;" nothing of the anxieties of a wounded and awakened conscience, followed by "joy and peace in beheving ;" nothing of that " love of Christ which passeth knowledge ;" nothing of the refreshing aids and consolations of that Holy Spirit whose existence he denies, whose agency he ridicules ; nothing of that inefiable communion of spirit with God and the Redeemer, the true element of life and peace ; nothing of the earnests and foretastes of that heaven which his system covers with a dense and impenetrable veil. Facts on this subject concur with theory : for no sooner is a min- ister of the gospel transformed into a Socinian, than he relinquishes the practice of extempore prayer, and has recourse to a written form. We are far from condemning the use of forms, where they are adopted from a conscientious preference ; nor can we doubt that many members of the establishment, whose habits have combined with them the most devout associations and feelings, find them useful helps to piety. But, that those wlio have never used \hem before should find them necessary the moment they have embraced a particular system, — that they should feel, as some of the most eminent have confessed, an absolute inca- pacity, from that time, of praying without the aid of a book, affords a portentous indication of the spirit of that system. To be smitten dumb and silent in the presence of that heavenly Father whom they ap- proached before with filial freedom and confidence, — to be unable or indisposed to utter a word without artificial aids, where they were wont to pour out all their hearts, evinces the visitation of a new spirit, but most assuredly not that Spirit " whereby we cry, Abba, Father." Correct, elegant, spiritless — replete with acknowledgments of the general goodness of God, the bounties of his providence, and his benign interposition in the arrangements of society, and the success of tbe arts and sciences which embellish and adorn the present state — seldom will you hear any mention of the forgiveness of sins, of the love of the Saviour ; few or no acknowledgments of the blessings of redemption. An earthly, unsanctified tincture pervades their devotions, calculated to remind you of any thing rather than of a penitent pleading for mercy, " with groanings that cannot be uttered." In all other dissenting communities, there are meetings for the express purpose of prayer ; but has any thing of that nature ever been heard of among Socinians ? If they have any meetings out of the usual seasons of worship, they are debating clubs, several of which have been established among them in the metropolis on the Lord's day. Among other dissenters, the religious observance of the Lord's dav Vol. ni.— C 34 Oy THE SriRIT A.\D TEXDEXCY OF SOCINIANISM. is considered as of the first iniportance, and he who made Hght of it would forfeit with thoin all credit for piety. Among the Unitarians it is the reverse. Mr. Belsham, who seems to affect the character of their leader, has written vehemently against the observance of a Sabbath, denouncing it as one of the most pernicious of popular errors ; and has lost no reputation by it. Another of their principal writers has denounced public worship. In short, it is not easy to conjecture where these attacks will end, and whether they will suffer any of the institutions of Christianity to remain unassailed. IV. But it is time to advert to another part of the system of modern Unitarianism, Avhich, in my humble opinion, is pregnant with more mischief and danger than any of those we have just mentioned. I mean the fatalism and materialism with which, since Dr. Priestley's time, it is almost universally incorporated. The first Socinians were so jealous of every opinion which might seem to infringe on the freedom of the human will and man's accountability, that they denied that the foreknowledge of God extended to hmnan volition and con- tingent events. They carried Pelagianism to its utmost length. The modern Socinians have been betrayed into the contrary extreme. They assert, not only that the foreknowledge of the Deity is extended to every sort of events, but that he has connected the whole series of them in an indissoluble chain of necessity ; that the Deity is the efficient cause of all that takes place, of evil volitions as well as good ; that he is, properly speaking, tlie only agent in the imiverse ; that moral evil is his production, and his only ; and that, strictly speaking, no one can be said to be accountable for any of his actions, since they were the inevitable result of necessary laws, and could not possibly have been otherwise than they were ; that the human mind is a machine governed by principles to whose operations it is perfectly passive. Who does not see, that upon this theory the distinction between virtue and vice, innocence and guilt, is annihilated, and the foundation of rewards and punishments in a future world completely subverted 1 Agreeably to this, Dr. Priestley declares, in his treatise on this subject, that a perfect necessitarian in other words, a philosopher of his own stamp, has nothing to do with repentance or remorse. Let these views of human nature prevail universally, and a frightful dissoluteness of manners, and a consequent subversion of the whole fabric of society, must infallibly ensue. Alarming as these principles are, they form but one portion of the perilous innovations introduced by the sect of modern Unitarians. With the dangerous speculations already recited they connect the following: — that the nature of man is single and homogeneous, not consisting of two component parts or principles, body and soul, matter and spirit, but of matter only ; that the soul is the brain, and the brain is the soul; that nothing survives the stroke of dissolution, but that at the moment the thinking powers of man are extinguished, all the elements of his frame are dissolved, his consciousness ceases, to be restored only at the period of the final resurrection. ON ANGELS. 35 i^rom these premises it seems to be a necessary inference, tliat the nope of a future state of existence is entirely delusive ; for, if the whole man perishes, if all that composes what I call myself is dissipated and scattered, and I cease to exist for ages as a sentient and intelligent being, personal identity is lost, and being once lost, it is impossible to conceive it ever restored without the greatest absurdity. Thus the very subject of a future life, the very thing of which it is affirmed, perishes from under us, on the Unitarian hypothesis ; and a future state can be predicated of any man only in 3, lax and figurative sense. Matter is incessantly liable to mutation ; the matter of wliich ouf bodies are composed is so eminently so, that it is generally thought by physiologists that every particle of which it is constituted disappears, and is replaced by fresh accession in the course of about seven years. Let it be admitted, then, that the constitution of human nature is homogeneous, or, in other words, that it consists of matter only, and it will necessarily follow, that in the course of forty-nine years the personal identity has been extinguished seven times, and that seven different persons have succeeded each other under the same name. Which of these, let me now ask, will be rewarded or punished in another life ? Such are the moral prodigies which disfigure the system of modern Unitarianism ; such the hopelessness of reconciling it with human accountability, and the dispensation of rewards and punishments in the world to come. V. The unexampled deference it displays to human authority. This may excite surprise, because there is nothing which its abetters pro- claim [witli] such loud and lofty pretensions as their unfettered freedom of thought, their emancipation from prejudice, and their disdain of human prescription. They, and they only, if we believe them, have unfurled the banners of mental independence, have purged off the slough of obsolete opinion and implicit faith, and shine forth in all the fresh- ness, vigour, and splendour of intellectual prowess. VI. Their rage for proselytism, difiicult to be accounted for on their principles. VI. ON ANGELS. Heb. i. 14. — Are they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation ? In this part of the Epistle, St. Paul is engaged in establishing the superiority of our Lord Jesus Christ to angels : of this he adduces various proofs out of the ancient Scriptures : the title of Son, by which C2 36 ON ANGELS. he [God] addresses the Messiah ; the command he issues, when he brings him into the world, that all the angels of God should worship him : " He maketh his angels spirits, his ministers a flame of fire : but of the Son he saith, Thy throne, O God, is for ever and ever." Nor did he ever say to the most exalted of these, " Sit on my right until I make thine enemies thy footstool." He then brings in the words of the text, " Are they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation ?" As this is one of the most clear and precise accounts we meet with in the sacred volume of the nature and offices of angels, it may form a proper basis for a few reflections on that subject. This account embraces two particulars : I. They are ministering spirits. II. They are sent forth to minister to them who shall be heirs of salvation. 1. They are spirits. They have not those gross and earthly bodies which we possess ; sluggish, inactive, and incapable of keeping pace with the nimble and more rapid movements of the mind. — " Who maketh his angels spirits : his ministers a flame of fire." They re- semble fire in the refined subtilty of its parts, and the quickness and rapidity of its operations. They move with an inconceivable velocity, and execute their commission with a despatch of which we are inca- pable of forming any [adequate] apprehension. St. Paul styles them angels of light, probably not without a view to the ease with which they transport themselves to the greatest distances, and appear and disappear in a moment. From their being called spirits, it is not necessary to conclude that they have no body, no material frame at all : to be entirely immaterial is probably peculiar to the Father of spirits, to whom we cannot attribute a body without impiety, and involving ourselves in absurdities. When the term spirit is employed to denote the angelic nature, it is most natural to take it in a lower sense, to denote their exemption from those gross and earthly bodies which the inhabitants of this world possess. Their bodies are spiritual bodies, " for there is a natural body, and there is a spiritual body ;" the latter of which the righteous are to receive at the resurrection, who are then to be made equal to the angels. The passage just before adduced seems to exclude the idea of the utter absence of matter : " who maketh his angels spirits : his ministers a flame of fire." 2. These spirits are very glorious. They occupy a very exalted rank in the scale of being, and are possessed of wonderful powers. They are celebrated by the Psalmist as " those who excel in strength." To this it may be objected, that David in describing man, represents him as made a little lower than the angels : it should, I apprehend, be rendered, " for a little time lower than the angels," that is, during the time he [the Sou of God] condescended to become incarnate. Their great power is sufficiently manifest from the works they have performed by divine commission : — the destruction of the first-born of Egypt; the overthrow of Sodom and Gomorrah; the ON ANGELS. 37 destruction of 180,000 men in Sennacherib's army. One angel destroyed 70,000 men, by bringing a pestilence, when David num- bered the people of Israel.* Their appearance was such as to fill the greatest of prophets with consternation and liorror. " And there remained no more strength in me,t and my comeliness was turned into corruption, and I retained no strength." With ease an angel rolled away the stone, a large fragment of rock, laid at the door of our Saviour's sepulchre : and at the sight of him the Roman guard trembled, and became as dead men. " After these things, I saw another angel coming down from heaven, having great power, and the earth was lightened at his glory." 3. They are not less distinguished for moral excellence than by the possession of great natural powers. The usual denomination given them in the Scriptures is, " holy angels." They consist of such spints as stood fast in their integrity, when many of their associates involved themselves in ruin by wilful rebellion. They are styled by St. Paul " elect angels," who are confirmed in a state of happiness by being, along with the church, reduced under one Head, the Lord Jesus Christ. Their confirmation in a state of obedience and felicity is owing (there is every reason to conclude) to their union with him, and th«ir being included in an eternal choice of special election and favour. They are Christ's holy angels. To this mystery there are several allusions in the Epistles to the Ephesians and Colossians : " Having made known unto us the mystery of his will, according to his good pleasure, which he hath purposed in himself: that in the dispensation of the fulness of times he might gather together in one all things in Christ, both which are in heaven and which are on earth." n. They are ministering spirhs. Their employment and office is to minister in the presence of God. Their habitation is heaven, that is, the place where God has fixed his throne and manifests his glory. They are emphatically described by this circumstance, " The angels that are in heaven." There is, doubtless, a place in the immense dominions of the Deity where God is beheld in his glory, and where he is worshipped with the highest forms of love and adoration. " Swear not at all ; neither by heaven, for it is God's throne," &c.:jl Thither Jesus ascended when he left our world ; there he sits on the right-hand of the Majesty oii high ; and there it is that the holy angels reside, as their fixed habitation. From thence it was the rebellious spirits were expelled, " who kept not their first estate, but left their own habitation."!^ " Bless the Lord, all ye his angels, that excel in strength; that do his commandments, hearkening unto the voice of his word. Bless ye the Lord, all ye his hosts ; ye ministers of his that do his pleasure. "II Their employment is to minister to God in the exalted services of the celestial temple. This is the proper business and happiness of heaven, and in this the holy angels are habitually employed. To contem- • 2 Sam. xxiv. 15. t Dan. x. 8. % Matt. v. 34. § Jude 6. |1 Ps. cUl. 21. 38 OX AISTGELS. plate the perfections, to celebrate the praises of the Great Eternal ; to bow before him in lowly prostrations, and to render him the honour due unto his wonderful works in nature, providence, and grace, is their proper employ. As more of God is conspicuous in the mystery of redemption than in any other work, this will occupy a proportionable part in their praises. " And I beheld," saith St. John, " and heard the voice of many angels around the throne, and around the four living creatures, and around the four-and-twenty elders, and the number of them was ten thousand times ten thousand, and thousands of thou- sands ; saying, with a loud voice, Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and blessing." It is not for us to conceive in what particulars the services of heaven consist, after what manner the glorious Supreme will display himself, and [by] what forms of adoration he will be praised. These mysteries are hid from us ; " for who hath ascended up into heaven ?" Yet we may be certain they will be in the highest degree pure, spiritual, and sublime ; the noblest exercise of the most exalted faculties on the greatest and best of Beings. The term ministering spirits (^eirovpyiKd) [used] here, signifies that species of services which is employed in sacred things. It is true, St. John declares that in the New Jerusalem he saw no temple, for a temple implies a building appropriated to the worship of God, in con- tradistinction to the secular purposes to which other edifices are apphed. In this sense there will be in heaven no temple, because the whole of those blessed regions will be filled with the immediate presence of God, and so be a temple. There was no room for a separation of any part to a sacred and religious use, when all was sacred. The reason St. John assigns for this circumstance suffi- ciently explains his meaning : " And I saw no temple therein, for the Lord God and the Lamb are the temple thereof." On that immediate presence which fills the heavenly world, the angels are constant attendants ; they continually stand before the Divine Majesty. The most exact representation of the heavenly world (considered as a place) that was ever given to men, was the ancient tabernacle, formed after the pattern given in the Mount.* The mercy-seat was attended with two cherubim, and tlie two curtains which formed the tabernacle were filled with figures of cherubim ; " With cherubim of cunning work shall thou make them."t In the visions of the ancient prophets, when a glimpse of heaven was given, every appearance of God was attended with creatures of an angelic order. "A fiery stream issued forth, and came forth from before him ; thousands of thousands ministered unto him, ten thousand times ten thousand stood before him." — (Daniel.) See also Isaiah: " In the year king Uzzah died, I saw the Lord sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up, and his train filled the temple. Above it stood the • Heb. ix. 23, 24. f Exnd. xxvi. 1. ON ANGELS.'' 39 seraphim." Ezekiel " beheld the cherubim, over which was a sapphire firmament, over which a throne was seen, and one sitting upon it hke the appearance of a man, whose head was encircled with a rainbow- This," he adds, " was an appearance of the likeness of the glory of God." " Then the Spirit took me up, and I heard behind me a great rushing sound, saying, Blessed be the glory of the Lord from his place. I heard also the noise of the wings of the living creatures that touched one another, and the noise of the wheels over against them, and the noise of a great rushing."* Our Lord warns us against despising the least of those who believe on him, from this consideration, " That their angels do always behold the face of God in heaven." The angel who appeared to Zachariah thus announces himself, " I am Gabriel, who stand in the presence of God." Improvement of Part I. L Let us reflect on the greatness of God, and the glory of Christ. IL On the dignity of religion, considered as constituting the em- ployment and felicity of such glorious spirits. Second Part. They are sent forth to minister for those who are to inherit sal- vation. I. Though they are so superior, they, with much alacrity, engage in offices of love to believers, from a consideration of the dignity which awaits them ; they are hastening on to possess salvation. They (believers) are soon to be associated with them, to be sharers of their privileges, partakers of their glory. Infantine as is their pres- ent weakness, they are considerable on account of their future great- ness. The infant of the family is not neglected or despised by the more advanced branches of it ; they anticipate the development of its faculties. They know the time will arrive when it will attain an equality with themselves. They that shall be thought worthy to obtain that world, at the resurrection of the just, " shall be equal to the angels." 1. Though they are now mortal, they are the heirs of immortality. 2. Though they are encompassed with infirmities and imperfections, those blessed spirits well know they will shortly become entirely like Christ. 3. Though they are immersed in trifling cares, and have necessarily much intercourse with the things of time and sense, they entertain noble thoughts, cherish high expectations, and, having the first-fruits of the Spirit, groan earnestly desiring to be delivered. And ever and anon wet with the dews of heaven, and anointed afresh with the Holy Spirit, they wear upon their spirits the Divine impress, which these blessed spirits distinctly perceive. * Ezek. iii. 12, 13. 40 ON ANGELS. II. Tlie intimate union of believers with the Lord Jesus Christ, to whom angels are in innnediate subjection, [also] entitles them to their benevolent offices. They are members of Christ, his brothers and sisters ; they are taken into a still closer relation than the conjugal one : and are parts of that nature in v.'hich the Lord is glorified. The nature of the benevolent offices [angels] perform for the church. — They are not the servants of the church, but the servants of Christ for the benelit of the church. Their stated employment is to minister in heaven, whence, on particidar occasions, they are sent on benevolent embassies for the good of the church. What are these services ? What have angels done, and what are they dohig, for the benelit and in behalf of the heirs of salvation? 1. The heirs of salvation are indebted to them for much prophetic information, as well as for many important directions. See Daniel. Paul going to Macedonia. 2. The heirs of salvation have often been indebted to angelic inter- position for their protection in seasons of extreme danger ; for example, Daniel in the lions' den ; Peter's rescue from prison ; Peter and John, (see Acts v.) ; the deliverance of Elisha atDothan.* "He shall give his angels charge over thee, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone." " The angel of the Lord encampeth about them that fear him." Many secret deliverances for which we are indebted to angelic influence. 3. The support which good men have received in the season of extreme pain and sufleruig. " An angel appeared unto him, strength- ening him." 4. A moral influence, equal in extent, though of an opposite nature, to that which evil spirits exert. 5. To assist in dying moments ; to convey the spirit to the mansions of peace : they let in those gleams of heaven into the soul. 6. To gather tlie saints [together] in the presence of Christ at the last day, and to vindicate their cause by a final victory over their ene- mies. "The harvest is the end of the world, and the angels are the reapers." " The Son of Man shall send forth his angels, and shall gather out of his kingdom all things that offend, and them that do hiiquity, and shall cast them into a furnace of fire," Improvement. L How great the dignity of real Christians. n. How delightful the prospect of the heavenly world. * 2 Kings vi. 15-17. ON THE PERSONALITY OF SATAN 41 VII. ON THE PERSONALITY OF SATAN. 1 Pet. v. 8. — Your adversary the devil goeth about like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour. It is highly probable, independently of revelation, that there are many orders of beings superior to [man.]* To suppose our own species to be the highest production of Divine power would indicate irrational and puerile presumption. When we consider the infinite variety of creatures presented to our notice in the descending scale between us and nothing, it is agreeable to analogy to conceive the number is not less of those which are above us ; the probability of which is enhanced by the discoveries now made of the extent of the universe, and of the existence of bodies, compared to which the globe which we inhabit is but a spot. Whde there are known to be material systems immensely superior in magnitude to that with which we are conversant, what should lead us to doubt that there are in the intel- lectual world beings possessing an equal mental superiority ? It surely will not be pretended that there are any properties discernible in man that mark him out as the most transcendent workmanship of Deity, the masterpiece of Almighty power, or that there is any ground for supposing creative energy suspended its operations here, rather tlian at any other point in its progress. The distance between us and nothing is finite, yet the interval is occupied and filled up with innumerable orders of sensitive beings : how improbable is it, then, that the distance between us and Deity, which is infinite, is an empty void ! Nor is it any just objection against the supposition in question that these superior orders are not usually discernible by our senses. The information derived from our senses, aided and corrected by reflection, is a sufficient guide in the practical concerns of life, but is a very uncertain criterion by which to determine the actual existence of things beyond a very narrow limit. Of those that are known to exist, some beings are so minute as to elude their notice, others so vast as to exceed their grasp. There are, probably, many material substances, whose subtilty exempts them entirely from that cognizance ; there are others which can only be perceived by the help of instruments. * Mr. Hall preached three sermons at Leicester on the personality and agency of Satan, besides that which he introduced into his series of lectures on tlie Socinian controversy. The substance of these he also condensed into a single sermon, and preached at Cambridge in October, 1823, and afterward at Bristol. Indeed, he thought the subject of so much moment, and so strangely neglected, that he prepared his three sermons for publication ; but, by some singular accident, the manuscript was lost, just as he had completed it. After an interval of three or four years, he recommenced the labour of writing these sermons, but never finished it. Some imperfect notes have been found since his death. They appear to belong to dilTerent discourses, and were evidently written at different times. Imperfect as they are, they open some interesting channels of investi- gation, and are therefore inserted in thi;: collection. For the general course of the author's reasoning, see his account of Lecture XI. in the summary of his lectures on the Socinian controversy, page 23 of this volume.— Ed 42 ON THE PERSONALITY OF SATAN. Whether there is in the universe any being purely spiritual, any perfectly detached from matter, e-xcept the Great Supreme, is a question, perhaps, not easy to solve, nor is the solution of it at all essential to our present inquiry. God is a spirit, and we cannot conceive of any portion or modification of matter as entering into his essence, vvitliout being betrayed into contradiction and absurdity. In regard to every other class of being, it is by many conjectured that the thinking princi- ple is united to some corporeal vehicle, through which it derives its perceptions, and by which it operates, while perfect spirituality, utterly separate from matter in any possible state, is the exclusive attribute of Deity. When angels are spoken of as spirits, this mode of expres- sion may possibly denote no more than that the material vehicle with which they are unhed is of a nature highly subtile and refined, at a great remove from the flesh and blood which compose the bodily frame. Who will presume to set limits to the creative power in the organiza- tion of matter, or affirm that it is not, in the hand of its Author, susceptible of a refinement which shall completely exclude it from the notice of our senses ? He who compares the subtilty and velocity of light with grosser substances which are found in the material system, will be reluctant to assign any bounds to the possible modifications of matter, much more to affirm there can be none beyond the compre- hension of our corporeal organs. However probable the supposition of the existence of creatures of a nature more exalted than our own, nothing can be affirmed with certainty on the subject beyond the dictates of revelation. In regard to a class of beings which are confessedly not objects of any of our senses, the evidence of their existence (if they exist at all) must be derived from Divine testimony. Abstract reasoning, however profound and accurate, presents nothing to the mind but the relations of its own ideas ; while for our knowledge of what exists without us we are entirely indebted to observation and experiment. But neither obser- vation nor experiment can extend to those departments of the universe that lie out of the reach of our senses. The province of philosophy, whether physical or mental, is to make an accurate survey of the mind and of matter, and to discover the laws to which they are subjected. To ascertain the laws of the material creation, the judicious inquirer not only diligently notices the appearances that present themselves, but puts the subject of his investigation into artificial situations, whence new appearances result ; this mode of inquiry is styled experimental. In mental philosophy a diff'erent method must be adopted. Mind cannot, like matter, be divided, compounded, or decomposed, by subjecting it to the action of external agents; and consequently, there is here no room for experiment, properly so called. All that can be done is carefully to observe the processes of thought and of emotion, and by attending to the operation of our mental faculties, to arrive at some general conclusions, the justice of which must, in every instance, be decided by individual consciousness. This inconvenience, inseparable from all attempts to investigate the structure of the human mmd, must, in my humble opinion, preclude ON THE PERSONALITY OF SATAN. 43 the possibility of much original discovery, and will, probably, prevent metaphysics from ever obtaining the certainty and stability of science. While investigating the laws of matter, we can vary the situations in which it is placed as much as we please [within certain practical limits,] and retain it as long under our view ; but mental phenomena form a Proteus, which is continually changing its aspect, and the objects of our observation are continually gliding away from us. Yet, while we acknowledge the incompetency of reason to ascertain the existence of a class of creatures superior to ourselves, and that all we can arrive at is a probable conjecture, it should be remembered that reason is equally incompetent to determine the contrary. If it is unable to build, it is, on the very same account, unable to destroy ; whatever improvement philosophy may receive, however successful and brilliant its career, its conclusions, in no instance, apply to an economy which, being confessedly supernatural, is beyond its sphere, and governed by laws totally different from those which it is its business to explore. Were all the secrets of the material world laid open, and the whole structure of the human mind, with all the laws of thought, volition, and emotion perfectly developed and explained, we should not be a step nearer to a solution of the question under our present consider- ation, not at all more qualified to determine whether there be an order of superior intelligences, or what the station they occupied, or the faculties by which they were distinguished. In short, the utmost that philosophy can achieve is to make us acquainted with human creatures, and with some of the laws which govern the material and visible world. Whenever we extend our views beyond this, we have no data to proceed upon, [but] are all at once in the region of doubt and conjecture. It is a province to which the principles [of philosophy] cease to apply : ingenuity may amuse itself with endless suppositions, and fancy fill the void with splendid pictures, but as to discovery, the intellect of a Newton is upon the same level with that of a child. It follows from hence, that the attempt to set aside the doctrine on this subject, derived from Scripture, under the notion of its being unphilosophical, is puerile and unmeaning. The truth is, that it is in no other sense unphilosophical, except that philosophy has nothing to do with it ; that it implies supernatural economy, to which hs principles are totally inapplicable, and which it can neither affirm nor deny. Here, if anywhere, we must have recourse " to the law and to the testimony ;" if they speak not according to them, " there is no light in them." Let nie briefly advert, then, to the statements of the New Testament on this subject. I shall content myself with presenting the reader with a mere outline, without attempting to exhaust the information which they impart. The New Testament informs us, that there is an order of intelligent beings superior to the human race, which it usually designates by the name of angels, — a name descriptive of their office, rather than their nature ; that they are endowed with very elevated powers and capacities ; 44 ON THE PERSONALITY OF SATAN. that pan of these, at a former [period,] swerved from their allegiance to the " blessed and only potentate," on which account they lost their first estate ; that of these, one of pre-eminent rank and dignity took the lead in the revolt ; that under-the name of Satan he continues to rule the rest, who are styled his angels ; that having established an infernal empire, he has ever been engaged in a malignant and implacable oppo- sition to the will of God ; that, envious of the happiness of our first parents, under the disguise of a serpent he templed the woman to violate the Divine prohibition, by eating the forbidden fruit, whence we derived a corrupt and mortal nature ; that the same evil spirit who is styled " the god of this world," the " prince of the power of the air," perpetually exerts himself in seducing men to sin ; that he succeeded in effacing the knowledge of God, and establishing idolatry throughout the world ; that Jesus Christ was appointed by his divine Father to be the antagonist of Satan, and to " destroy his works ;" and that, before the close of time, his dominion will be established upon the ruin of that of Satan, and the world restored to happiness and to God. This, as it appears to me, is a fair outline of the doctrine of the New Testa- ment on this mysterious subject. In a word, Clirist and Satan are represented in the Scriptures as the heads of two opposite empires ; the one 'the empire of light and holiness, the other of darkness and sin ; the one embracing all the elements of moral good, the other all those of moral evil ; while the whole human race are divided by their sway. To a pliilosophical mind, not imbued with the light of revelation, such a view of the moral state of the world will, probably, appear strange and portentous : nothing is easier than to suggest plausible objections against it. It may be admitted that it is not such a repre- sentation as reason, left to itself, would have prompted us to antici- pate. This is a circumstance, however, which, in judging of [such matters,] is entitled to little attention ; whatever their previous improb- ability, they must be received or rejected according to the amount of evidence adduced for their support. Even in the affairs of ordinary life, our previous conceptions of improbability are found to afford no criterion of truth, much less can any reliance be placed on them la judging of the laws of a superior and supernatural economy. In asserting the personality and agency of Satan, we are not, it should be remembered, proposing to our reader a speculation in phi- losophy ; we are asserting a fact beyond the limits of its jurisdiction ; a fact for which we profess to produce no other evidence besides the declarations of Scripture. If its testimony is not sufficient to decide the question, we are out at sea, nor is it possible to specify what doctrines we are warranted to receive on its authority ; especially when we consider that to enlarge our knowledge of the invisible world would appear to be the proper business of a revelation, whose ex- clusive glory it is to bring " life and immortality to light." We have no controversy, at present, with those whose lax notions of inspiration imbolden them to reject the express testimony of an apostle. We assume, as granted, the truths of inspiration, so far, at least, that thejr ON THE PERSONALITY OF SATAN. 45 may be safely trusted in the annunciation of Christian doctrine ; and all we shall attempt is, to establish that literal interpretation of their language on the subject under our present consideration, wherein we infer the personal existence and agency of Satan. There is no necessary alliance between moral rectitude and intel- lectual elevation ; nor need we go far in search of high intellectual vigour combined in the same individual with a portentous degree of pravity. In free and voluntary agents, we learn, from constant obser- vation, that the greatest range and comprehension of intellect is no security against obliquity of will ; nor is it at all certain that a pre-emi- nent degree of mental superiority may not, under certain circumstances, become itself a source of temptation. Be this as it may, the only order of rational creatures with which our experience has brought us acquainted have, we are certain, fallen from rectitude ; and therefore, whatever other conclusion we nuiy draw from that fact, it ought, on the principles of analogy, to facilitate our belief, on proper evidence, that a similar catastrophe has involved a distinct and superior order. Whatever difticulties may accompany [the question of] the origin of evil, and however incompetent we may be to conceive how the transi- tion is effected from innocence to guilt, or how to reconcile its foresight and permission with divine rectitude and human freedom, as this is not the place where they [these difficulties] first occur, they are not entitled to be considered as obje^-tions against the doctrine which we are endeavouring to support. They exist exactly to the same extent in relation to the fall of man, of which we have experimental evidence. The doctrine which affirms the existence of evil spirits of a superior order, who have sunk themselves into perdition by disobeying their Maker, is perfectly analogous to the history of the only species of rational creatures with which we are acquainted; we find its counter- part in ourselves. There is one objection which has been frequently urged against the popular view of this subject, which it will be proper to notice before we proceed further in the discussion, lest the prejudice it may [excite] should impair the conviction which the evidence might otherwise pro- duce. It has been said, that to ascribe to Satan such an interference in the moral concerns of the world as is implied in his incessantly tempting men to sin, is to suppose him omnipresent, a supposition repugnant to the nature of a finite being. It must be confessed, the Scriptures of the New Testament teach us to conceive of satanic agency as concurring in almost every act of deliberate sin : he is said to have filled the heart of Ananias ; to have entered into Judas, " after he had taken the sop ;" and to be " the god of this world, who worketh mightily with the children of disobedience." To infer from thence, however, that any proper omnipresence is attributed to this apostate spirit be- trays inattention to the obvious meaning of the inspired writers. 48 ON THE PERSONALITY OF SATAN. We zte taught to conceive of Satan as the head of a spiritual tinpii";^ of great extent, and comprehending within itself innumerable subor- dinate agents. The term Satan, in application to this subject, is inva- riably found in the singular number, implying that there is one desig- nated by that appellation. His associates in the primeval rebellion are spoken of in the plural number, and are denominated his angels. Thus, the punishment reserved for them at the close of time is said to be " prepared for the devil and his angels." What their number may be it is in vain to conjecture ; but when we reflect on the magni- tude of the universe, and the extensive and complicated agency in which they are affirmed to be engaged, we shall probably be inclined to conjecture that it far exceeds that of the human race. In describing the affairs of an empire it is the uniform custom of the historian to ascribe its achievements to one person, to the ruling mind under whose auspices they are performed, and by w^hose authority they are effected : as it is the will of the chief which, in absolute monarchies, gives unity to its operations and validity to its laws, and to whose glory or dishonour its good or ill fortune redound ; as victo- ries and defeats are ascribed to him who sustains the supreme power, without meaning for a moment to insinuate that they were the result of his individual agency. Thus, in relating the events of the last war, the ruler of France would be represented as conducting at once the most multifarious movements in the most remote parts of Europe, where nothing more was intended than that they w-ere executed, directly or indirectly, by his order. He thus becomes identified with his empire, and spoken of as though he pervaded all its parts. Thus the sovereign of Great Britain, by fiction of speech perfectly under- stood, is represented as the direct object of every offence, and as present in every court of law, conscience, * * * Conceiving Satan, agreeable to the intimations of the word of God, to be the chief or head of a spiritual dominion, we easily account for the extent of the agency he is affirmed to exert, in tempting and se- ducing the human race ; not by supposing him to be personally pr^nt wherever such an operation is carrying on, but by referring it to his auspices, and considering it as belonging to the history of his empire. As innumerable angels of light fight under the banners of the Redeemer, so, there is every reason to conclude, the devil also is assisted by an equally numerous host of his angels, composing those principalities and powers over which Jesus Christ triumphed, in the making " a show of them openly." On this principle, tlie objection we are considering falls entirely to the ground, and no more ubiquity or omnipresence is attrib- uted to Satan by our system than to Alexander, Caesar, or Tamerlane, whose power was felt, and their authority acknowledged, far beyond the limits of their personal presence. The attentive reader of Scripture will not fail to remark, that the statement of the existence, the moral propensities, and the agency of Satan is extended nearly through the whole of the sacred volume, ON THE PERSONALITY OF SATAN. 47 from Genesis to the Revelations.; that its writers, in their portraiture of our great adversary, employ the same images, and adhere to the same appellations throughout ; that a complete identity of character is exhibited, marked with the same features of force, cruelty, malignity, and fraud. He is everywhere depicted as alike the enemy of God and man ; who, having appeared as a serpent in the history of the fall, is recognised by St. Paul under the same character, in express allusion to that event,* and afterward by St. John, in the Apocalypse, as " that old serpent the devil, and Satan, which deceiveth the whole world."! We have, therefore, just the same evidence of the real personality of Satan, as of the Holy Spirit, and exactly of the same kind ; both are described by inspired persons ; to both, volitions, purposes, and per- sonal [characteristics] are ascribed. A uniformity of representation, an identity of cliaracter, distinguished respectively by the most oppo- site moral qualities, equally pervade the statements of Scripture as to each, to such a degree, that supposing the sacred writers to have designed to teach us the proper personality of Satan, it is not easy to conceive what other language they could have adopted. Notwith- standing, however, this accumulation of evidence, there are those who contend that all that is said on this subject is figurative, and that the devil, or Satan, is a mere prosopopoeia, or personification ; but what it is designed to personify they are not agreed ; some affirmmg one thing and some another, according to the caprices of their fancy, or the exigences of their system. The solution most generally adopted by our modern refiners in revelation is, that Satan is a figure or personi- fication of the principle of evil. For the benefit of the illiterate part of my audience it may be proper to remark, that a personification is a figure of rhetoric or of poetry, by which we ascribe sentiment, lan- guage, and action to things which, properly speaking, are utterly inca- pable of these : for example, Job, in a lofty strain of poetry, inquiring where is the place of wisdom, — "Man," saith he, "knoweth not the price thereof; neither is it found in the land of the living. The depth saith. It is not in me, and the sea saith. It is not with me. Destruction and death say, We have heard the fame thereof with our ears^X In this bold personification of the Depth, the Sea, Destruction, and Death, there is grandeur and imagination, but no obscurity ; every one per- ceives, that in bestowing sentiment and language on these natural objects, the writer merely obeys the impulse of poetic enthusiasm. St. Paul, on several occasions, makes use of the same figure, and per- sonifies the Law, the Flesh, and other things of an abstract nature, and no one mistakes his meaning. The legitimate use of this figure is, to give vivacity and animation to the exhibition of sentiment; every sober writer employs it sparingly and occasionally, and will rarely, if ever, have recourse to it, until he has elevated the imagination of his reader to a pitch which prepares him to sympathize with the enthu- siasm it betrays. A personification never dropped, nor ever explained * 2 Cor. xi. 3. t Rev. xii. 9. % Job xxviii. 12-14, 22, 48 ON THE PERSONALITY OF SATAN. by the admixture of literal forms of expression in the same connexion, is an anomaly, or rather absurdity, of which there is no example in the writings of men of sense. Of all the ligures of speech by which language is varied and enriched, the personification is perhaps the most perspicuous ; nor is there an instance to be found in the whole range of composition, sacred or profane, in which it was so employed as to make it doubtful whether the writer intended to be understood in a literal or figurative sense. Let those who deny the existence of Satan adduce, if they are able, another example from any author whatever, ancient or modern, sacred or profane, in which this figure is employed in a manner so enigmatical and obscure, as to have been interpreted for ages in a literal sense. There is a personification spreading itself through the whole Bible, if we believe these men, [now] discovered for the first time, in writings which have been studied by thousands, possessed of the most acute and accomplished intellect, for eighteen hundred years, without one of them, during all these ages, suspecting that it existed. It is scarcely necessary to say, that a more untenable position was never advanced ; nor one which, if they really believe that the sacred writers meant to be understood figuratively, evinces a more unpardonable inattention to the operations of thought, and the laws of composition. On any other subject but religion, such a style of criticism could not fail to expose its authors to merited derision. But let us, for a moment, waive the other objections to this solution, and, admitting it to be possible, examine how far it will answer its purpose, by applying it to some of the principal passages which treat of the agency of Satan. It is necessary to forewarn my hearers, that the devil, or Satan, according to the notion of our opponents, is by no means a personification, universally, of one and the same thing. It is a Proteus that assumes so many shapes as almost to elude detection. Most commonly, it denotes the principle of moral evil ; sometimes, however, it stands for the heathen magistrates, sometimes for the Jewish priests and scribes, and at others for the personal opponent of St. Paul at Corinth. Let us first apply this solution to our liOrd's temptation in the wil- derness. " Then," says Matthew, " was Jesus led up of the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted of the devil."* This, our opponents tell us with great confidence, was a visionary scene, and their reason for it is curious enough. It is the form of the expression, " Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness." Mark has it, " sendeth him into the wilderness."! On this principle of interpretation, whatever is represented as performed by Christ under the agency of the Spirit must be understood as visionary ; and when it is said " he entered in the power of the Spirit into Galilee," it must be understood as intending, not a real, l)ut a fictitious or visionary removal. It is true tiiat Ezekiel speaks of himself as brought to Jerusalem, in order to witness the abominations practised there, while it is evident his actual abode was * Matl.iv. 1. t Marki. 12. ON THE PERSONALITY OF SATAN. 49 still in Babylon ; but that no mistake may arise, he repeatedly assures us that it was in the visions of God. But no such intimation is given in the instance before us. It has all the appearance of a litsral matter of fact, and as such it has been currently received by the church of God. Let it be admitted, however, for argument's sake, to have been a visionary representation ; the question still recurs. What is meant by the tempter in this scene ? and whether any of the solutions which have been given can possibly be admitted. The devil here cannot be intended to denote the pagan magistrates, or Jewish high-priests or scribes, because our Lord was alone. As little can it mean the princi- ple of evil. The principle of evil must be the principle of some mind ; it cannot subsist apart. Where, in this instance, is the mind in which it inhered ? None were present but the Saviour and the tempter ; if the tempter was not a person, but the principle of evil, that principle must have belonged to the Saviour himself; it must have consisted of some sinful bias, some corrupt propensity in himself, with which he maintained an arduous struggle. But this is refuted by the concurrent testimony of the sacred writers, who affirm him to be " holy, harmless, undefiled, and separate from sinners ;"* who emphatically designate him under the character of him "that is holy, him that is true."t It is to be hoped that our modern Socinians have not rushed 10 that extreme of impiety to impute a principle of evil to the mind of the immaculate Lamb of God, " in whom was no sin."i And yet, without this, no intelligible account can be given of the temptation, except that which has been universally received in the church. Let us apply their theory to another very important passage in the sixth chapter of the Ephesians. We there find the following exhort- ation : " Put on the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. For we wrestle not with flesh and blood, but against principalities and powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places." By these principalities and powers our modern Socinians tell us we are to understand a general personification of all wicked opposition to the progress of Christianity, whether from the civil or ecclesiastical power, and, in the present instance more particularly, "the opposhion of Jewish priests and rulers."^ But how, we ask, is this comment consistent with the negative branch of St. Paul's assertion, " for we wrestle not with flesh and blood ?" Flesh and blood is a very common form of expression in the sacred writings, employed to denote the human race, or mankind. Thus our Lord tells Peter, "Flesh and blood hath not revealed this unto thee, but my Father which is in heaven ;"|| evidently intending to afiirm, that he did not derive his information from men, but from God. " Immediately," says Paul, " I consulted not with flesh and blood ;"F that is, he consulted no human authorhies ; " nor did I go u]) to Jerusalem," he adds, " to those that were apostles before me." The first part of the apostle's proposition then evidently is, that the opposition he had chiefly to sustain was not * Heb. vii. 26. t Rev. iii. 7. J 1 John iii. 5. ^ Improved Version, p. 4501 i| Matt. xvi. 17. V Gal. i. 16 Vol. III.— D 60 ON THE PERSONALITY OF SATAN. from men, nor from adversaries of the human rank and order. The question naturally arises, From what then 1 He adds, " From princi- palities and powers, and the rulers of the darkness of this world," or, according to Griesbach, " of this darkness ;" that is, say the Unitarians, from Jewish rulers and priests. We must perceive in a moment the absurdity of the proposition thus interpreted, where that is denied at the beginning which is affirmed at the close ; and human nature, ex- pressed by a general term w'hich can signify nothing else, is formally excluded from the context, to make way for a class of adversaries who are of that very nature, and no other. It is equally impossible to put the other construction on the passage, that of the principle of evil ; because that cannot admit of the plural number. It will surely be allowed, that no intelligent writer, who was desirous of personifying the principle of evil, abstractedly considered, would speak of it in the plural form, under the figure of " principalities and powers, and the rulers of the darkness of tlVis world," since such a mode of speaking could be productive of nothing but mental con- fusion. This passage, therefore, affords an irrefragable proof of the existence and agency of Satan. Let us proceed to apply the principle of our opponents to another passage, and inquire whether it be possible to elicit from it a sense worthy of the wisdom of inspiration. The passage to which I refer is in the first Epistle of John, the third chapter : " My little children, let no man deceive you ; he that doeth righteousness is righteous, as he is righteous : he who committeth sin is of the devil, for the devil hath sinned from the beginning : for this purpose was the Son of God manifested, that lie might destroy the works of the devil." Let us for a moment suppose, with the Unitarians, that the devil is here put for a personification of the principle of evil, or of sin. And what, let me ask, can be more trite, futile, and ridiculous, than gravely to assert that the principle of evil, or sin, sinned from the beginning? Who needed to be informed of this ? and what sense can we affix to the phrase, "from the beginning f which, if it conveys any idea at all, must be intended to instruct us, that the principle of sin did not begin to be sinful from a late or recent, but from a certain very distant epoch, denoted by the words, " the beginning." But is not this more like the babbling of an infant, than the dictates of divine inspiration ? The following passage of John is [beset] with precisely the same difficulties. "Ye," said our Lord, addressing the unbelieving Jews, " are of your father the devil, and the lusts of your father ye will do. He was a murderer from the beginning, and abode not in the truth. When he speaketh a lie, he speaketh of his own ; for he is a liar, and the father of it."* Here, on the hypothesis of our opponents, we find our Saviour labourinij to convince his hearers that the principle of evil, or sin, has been guilty of certain specific enormities, such as murder and lying ; that it did not continue in a state of moral rectitude, because there is no rectitude in it. Nothing can be more trifling ; since, when ' John viii, 44, CORRUPTION OF MANKIND BEFORE THE DELUGE. 51 the very principle of evil in the abstract is under contemplation, every partial kind of evil is, ipso facto, included. Had our Lord discoursed in this manner, it might very properly have been said of him, in a sense very different from that which was originally mtended, " never man spake like this man." The legitimate employment of a prosopopceia, or personification, requires that the literal term, expressive of the passion or principle personified, be strictly adhered to. He who wishes to personify piety, patriotism, or benevolence is never accustomed to drop the literal term by which these principles are respectively denoted. He gives sex, sentiment, and language to each, but on no occasion shall we find him substituting an unusual name for the things which he intends to per- sonify. To change the very terms themselves for certain symbolical appellations would have the efllect of involving his discourse in incom- prehensible mystery : it would be introducing an enigma, not a per- sonification. Where shall we find a parallel in the whole compass of the Bible for such a licentious abuse of personification ? Besides, allowing that this absurd kind of personification could be at all tolerated, the symbolical name ought, at least, to have a determinate meaning ; it should invariably stand for one and the same thing. The change of the proper term for the name of a symbolical personage could be justified on no other principle than that it was universally understood to be the substitute of some one object ; but in the present case, the word Satan has no precise or definite idea attached to it ; it is some- times the principle of evil, sometimes the Jewish priests and rulers, at others the pagan magistrates. How [repugnant to every sound principle of interpretation !] VIII. ON THE EXTREME CORRUPTION OF MANKIND BEFORE THE GENERAL DELUGE. Gen. vi. 11. — The earth was corrupt before God, and was filled with violence. The account in the Scriptures of the history of the world before [the flood] is extremely concise, but at the same time extremely interesting. Of the celebrated personages that then flourished, the names are seldom mentioned, and the transactions in which they were engaged are not specified M'ith any detail of circumstances. The mhabitants of the old world are involved in [obscurity] ; they are made to pass before us like the shade of departed greatness, with au infallible judgment only passed by their Creator on their characters, and a distant declaration of their doom : as though it were the deter- D2 ^ 52 THE EXTREME CORRUPTION OF MANKIND mination of God's providence to bury their memor)' in oblivion, and to make nothing distinctly legible but their destruction. Of the violences they committed, of the impiety they uttered, and of the miseries they mutually inflicted upon each other, the Holy Ghost condescends to give no particulars, but only stigmatizes them as atrocious criminals and rebels, whose enormous guilt exhausted the patience of their Maker, and rendered them unfi* to live. The same history informs us of a most atrocious murder committed by the first-born man upon his brother, for no other reason than that he was wicked and his brother righteous. Such an event affords a view of human nature, in the early stage of its existence, which pre- pares us for the description given of human depravity in the context, " and the Lord looked, and beheld that every thought of the imagina- tion of man's heart was evil, and that continually."* It was necessary explicitly to state the extreme degeneracy into which mankind were fallen, in order to justify the conduct of God in bringing upon them the flood. For God to destroy the work of his hand, — to destroy that part of it which was made after his own image, was a most extraor- dinary measure in the conduct of Providence, which nothing can account for but that extreme corruption which it is affirmed then over- spread the world. In what that corruption particularly consisted ; whether it involved the apostatizing from God to idols, or only manifested itself in gross acts of immorality ; how long it had been accumulating ere it reached its height ; and whether it was gradually or by sudden steps introduced ; are circumstances of which we are not informed. All that we are expressly told is, that the earth was filled with injustice, rapine, and violence. From what we know of human nature and human afl'airs, we have reason to conclude that it was gradually superinduced, since great changes in the moral state of the world, whether in the way of improvement or deterioration, require a considerable space of time for their accomplishment. It is on this account next to impossible not to suppose that the extreme degradation of manners under consideration was produced by slow degrees, and was eflfected by various causes. Some of these causes are, if I mis- take not, suggested with tolerable clearness in the chapter out of which my text is taken. We might with great truth assert, that the general cause of the extreme corruption then prevalent was the defection of our first parents, and that consequent loss of true rectitude and holiness which they first sustained in their own persons, and then communicated to their pos- terity. This tendency to sin in human nature is, indeed, the prolific source of all particular vices, which flow from thence as their fountain. But as a river when it overflows its banks must be swelled by accelerated floods or tributary streams, besides what it derives from its parent stream, so an extraordinary prevalence of vice at a particular time necessarily implies the co-operation of other causes, along with the original corruption of human nature. To say there is an inherent ♦ Gen. vi. 5. BEFORE THE GENERAL DELUGE. 53 sinful bias in human nature is sufficient to account for the existence of a large portion of corruption at any time, but affords no reason for its prevailing at one time more than another. To account for such an event satisfactorily some specific and particular reasons must be assigned besides this general one. The purport of the remaining part of this discourse is to point out what may appear some of the probable reasons, and to deduce a few practical inferences from the whole. Let me request your attention while I state some of the particular reasons which account for the remarkable and prodigious corruption which prevailed in the lives of men immediately before the flood. I. It may be partly ascribed, with great probability, to the neglect and abandonment of the public worship of God. From the fact of Cain and Abel both presenting their offerings to the Lord, and from the acceptance of Abel's offering, because offered with faith, we may infer, that some time after the fall a mode of worshipping God was divinely prescribed, or how could Abel exercise faith in sacrificing ; since ftiith implies invariably a divine testimony, or some divine inter- position 1 We are further informed respecting Cain, that when the Lord remonstrated with him on the murder of his brother, he sentenced him to be a wanderer and vagabond ; and Cain, deploring the severity of his sentence, said, " Behold, thou hast driven me out this day from the face of the earth ; and from thy face shall I be hid." It is added, "And Cain went out from the presence of the Lord, and dwelt in the land of Nod, on the east of Eden."* As his going out from the presence of the Lord is immediately fol- lowed by the declaration of his dwelling in a strange land, it is natural to suppose that the former expression denotes his quitting that country which God was wont in a peculiar manner to honour with his presence ; where he afforded some spiritual manifestation of his power and glory. It seems, in or near the place where Adam and iiis sons dwelt there was placed the shadow, or some bright and visible token, of the Divine presence. The same is implied in the acceptance of Abel's sacrifice, and the rejection of Cain's ; for how could the former know that his was accepted, or the latter that his was rejected, whhout some super- natural sign or token? Cain, thus having by the atrocious crime he committed forfeited the privilege of approaching the place of Divine audience, and going into a remote part where no such symbol of the Divine presence was possessed, fell in all probability into total neglect of the public worship of God, and abandoned himself entirely to an irreligious and worldly life. Supposing this to be the case, it will readily account for much of that prodigious vice and impiety : for when once the worship of God is abandoned, a great restraint upon wicked- ness is removed out of the way. Conceive only to what a dreadful degeneracy of morals would this nation speedily advance, if no attf ntioii were paid to the Sabbath, and public worship universally abandoned. The extreme importance of this duty as a chief preservative of all * Gen. iv. 14-16. 54 THE EXTREME CORRUPTION OF MANKIND religion and virtue may be leamed from one remarkable passage in thn writings of Paul : " Forget not the assembling of yourselves together," says he, " as the manner of some is :" "for if we sin wilfully after we have received the knowledge of the truth, there remaineth no more sacrifice for sin."* Whence we may infer, that to forsake public wor- ship is either precisely the same thing as absolute apostacy or is the very next step to it. 11. The intermarriages between the "seed of the righteous and the seed of the wicked" were undoubtedly another principal cause of the extreme corruption under consideration. " And it came to pass, when men began to multiply on the face of the earth, and daughters were born unto them, that the sons of God saw the daughters of men that they were fair, and they took them wives of all that they chose."t To understand the meaning of this passage, which at first sight appears obscure, we must look a little further back in the narrative. We are there informed that to Seth, the third son of Adam, was born a son named Enos; it is added, " Then began men to call upon the name of the Lord."| The meaning of the inspired writer is, that in the days «t Enos, the son of Seth, the first separation was made between the true worshippers of God and the profane descendants of Cain and his associates. Adam, we learn, had sons and daughters born to him after the birth of Seth ; but their names are not mentioned, partly because the true religion was preserved in the line of Seth, and partly because from him was continued the succession of patriarchs till Noah. The family of Seth, on account of its adherence to the true religion, were styled " the sons of God ;" the descendants of Cain, and the other branches of the family who united with him in his impiety, " the sons of men," denoting that they were a carnal, irreligious race. The words rendered, " then began men to call upon the name of the Lord," may with equal propriety be rendered, " then began men to be called by the name of tlie Lord." Those then were the persons whom the sacred writer denominates " the sons of God ;" a race of men descended from Seth, who kept themselves apart, and refused affinity or connexion with the apostates from the religious worship of God. Among them was found tlie true church ; the holy seed, whence the New World was to spring up after the flood ; the sacred stock out of which Christ himself was to arise. While thoy kept themselves apart, and declined to unite with the apostate stock, religion continued in its purity, the overflowings of vice were restrained, and tliey were as " the salt of the earth." In process of time they yielded to the suggestions of carnal appetite, broke through the restraints of piety and prudence, and joined in affinity with the descendants of Cain and the other branches of the family who followed his apostacy- Tracing the almost necessary eff'ects of such a pro- ceeding, the children of Israel at a subsequent period were strictly forbidden to contrac^t marriages with the Canaanitish and surrounding nations. " Take heed to thyself lest thou make a covenant with the ♦ Heb. X. 25, t Gen. vi. 1, 2. } Gen. iv. 26. BEFORE THE GENERAL DELUGE. 55 inhabitants of the land whither thou goest, lest it be for a snare in the midst of thee : — and thou take of their daughters unto thy sons, and their daughters go a whoring after their gods, and make thy sons go a whoring after their gods."* In the same spirit, and for the same rea- son, the apostle enjoins upon Christians the avoiding of such unequal marriages : " Be ye not unequally yoked with unbelievers ; for what fellowship hath Christ with Belial ? or what communion hath light with darkness ? or what agreement hath the temple of God with idols 1 or what part hath he that believeth with an infidel ?"t III. The pride arising from the possession of great bodily sti-ength, and great mental acquisitions and endowments, may be assigned as another cause of the remarkable corruption of men's manners in the times immediately preceding the flood. " There were giants in those days," says the sacred text ; " and, moreover, when the sons of God, allying themselves to the daughters of men, had children born unto them, the same became mighty men, even men of renown."| The consciousness of superior or supernatural strength in persons who are not tinctured with the fear of God, naturally disposes to a degree of violence and oppression ; and that those giants of whom Moses spoke, abused their prodigious strength to those purposes is evidently [implied] in the sacred story. The strong oppressed the weak, and made the superiority of bodily force an instrument for establishing unjust domina- tion and tyranny, until the whole earth became a scene of rapine, cruelty, and injustice. But besides these, it is evident from the narrative that the descend- ants of Cain distinguished themselves very early by the discovery and cultivation of arts and sciences ; both these took their first rise among that godless race. Tubal Cain instructed in every artifice of iron and brass, and, probably, was the inventor of warlike instru- ments. Jubal was the inventor of musical instruments, or, to speak in the language of Scripture, " the father of all them that handled the harp and the organ." Naamah, from the manner in which she is introduced, was probably the inventress of some [perhaps] of the more exquisite kinds of needlework. The first thing, we are informed of respecting Cain, after the murder of his brother, is, his building a city, which he called Enoch, after the name of his son. From the whole narrative it may be confidently inferred, that the descendants of Cain were endowed with a superior genius, and were the fijst who made themselves celebrated by the discovery and improvements of arts and sciences. Superior genius, united with extraordinary attainments, are, in themselves, valuable gifts ; but when they are dissevered from the fear of God, nothing tends more powerfully to intoxicate and corrupt the heart. These envenom it with pride, these supply the sophistry which supports impiety, and extend the means and enlarge the capacity of doing mischief. They have a peculiar tendency to produce that confidence in human reason, that reliance on arms of flesh, which indisposes man to seek after God. " The wicked, through * Exod. xxxiv. 12, 16. f 2 Cor. vi. 14, 15. t Gen. vi. 4. 56 CORRUPTION OF MANKIND BEFORE THE DELUGE. the pride of his countenance, will not seek after God."* From the history of modern times, we have abundant evidence that great improvements in arts and sciences have not only no harmonizing or beneficial influ- ence on irreligious minds, but that they have just the contrary. When- ever God is not made the linal end of all knowledge and of all talent, they lead the possessor farther and farther from him, and are the mere instruments and embellishments of vice, and serve merely to paint and adorn the sepulchre where virtue lies entombed. The descend- ants of Cain, like too many in the present day, were, indeed, men o renown ; but seeking this as the supreme good, and despising the honour that comes from above, they could possess no solid worth, and whatever there was that might bear the appearance of it among them was hollow and insincere. IV. I add, in the last place, their extraordinary longevity as another reason of the prodigious depravity which prevailed at that time. The lives of many of them, we learn, extended to nearly a thousand years. This remarkable circumstance, co-operating with the causes 1 have already mentioned, contributed greatly to the excessive corruption asserted in the text. It must have acted powerfully in several ways. 1. He who can indulge a reasonable expectation of living for a very long period in the world, considers himself as possessing a large estate. The value of any earthly possession rises, partly in propor- tion to the satisfaction it is capable of affording, and partly from its duration. Man, being naturally a prospective being, a being who looks forward to futurity, is necessarily more attached to every species of good in proportion to its real or imagined permanence. How power- fully, then, must sensible and visible objects have attracted the heart of those who had a reasonable prospect of enjoying them for a thousand years ! The possessions which attach us to the present world must have operated, in such circumstances, with a prodigious force. 2. Corrupt habits must, through such a long track of years, have had opportunity to fix themselves more thoroughly, to strike their roots more deeply, than during the contracted space of present existence. 3. The longevity of the antediluvians removed eternity to a greater apparent distance, and therefore naturally weakened its efiects. If men put off the thoughts of death and eternity when they have such a short space to live as they have at present, how difficult would it be to impress [them] with a serious or alarming apprehension of it at the distance of a thousand years ! • Psalm X. 4. ON THE END OF MAN'S EXISTENCE. 57 IX. ON THE END OF MAN'S EXISTENCE. EzEK. XV. 2. — What is the vine-tree more than any tree, or than a branch which is among the trees of the forest ? The vine-tree is weaker than most trees, so as to be unfit for any work, and would therefore be very contemptible but for that property it possesses of bringing forth a valuable and delicious fruit. On this account it is highly prized and diligently cultivated. But if it fail of producing fruit, the only purpose to which it can be applied is to turn it to fuel. Such is the figurative representation which the prophet gives us, in this passage, of man, considered especially as the object of Divine care and culture. He is naturally capable of yielding a precious fruit; in this consists his sole excellence; this is the sole end of his existence ; and if he fails in this, he is of no use but to be destroyed. I, Man is naturally capable of yielding a most precious fruit : this fruit consists in living to God. 1. He is possessed of all the natural powers which are requisite for that purpose. He is endowed with reason and understanding, enabling him to perceive the proofs of the being of God, and to entertain just, though inadequate conceptions of the principal attributes of his nature ; his self-existence, his absolute perfection, his power, his wisdom, his all-sufficiency, his omnipresence, his holiness, justice, and goodness. Inferior animals do not : on which account he is a vine-tree among the trees of the wood ; inferior in many properties to some of them, but superior in those particulars which fit him for this end, and on that account incomparably more valuable. 2. As we are possessed of natural powers, fitting us for the service of God, so he has bestowed upon us much care and culture, with an express view to this end. The religious instruction he gave to his ancient people is frequently compared in Scripture to the cultivation which men bestow upon vines. " My beloved hath a vineyard in a very fruitful hill," &c.* " For the vineyard of the Lord of hosts is the house of Israel, and the men of Judah his pleasant plant."! He gave them his will, his ordinances, his prophets, and separated them from all nations by peculiar rites, that they might be to him for a name, and a praise, and a peculiar treasure, above all nations. He has done much more for us under the gospel. None can be ignorant of the intention of God in all these provisions. " Yet I had planted thee • Isaiah v. 1 t Issuah v. 7. 58 ON THE END OF MAN'S EXISTENCE. a noble vine, wholly a right seed : how then art thou now turned into the degenerate plant of a strange vine unto me ?"* II. This is the only end for which mankind are formed and pre- served ; this is the proper fruit of human nature, which admits of nothing being substituted in its room. 1. A mere selfish, voluptuous life cannot be supposed to be the proper fruit of human nature. He who lives to himself is universally despised and condennied. " Israel is an empty vine, he bringeih forth to himself."! " For their vine is of the vine of Sodom, and of the fields of Gomorrah ; their grapes are grapes of gall, their clusters are bitter." j: 2. A life of social benevolence, in which the public good is preserved, without a supreme regard to God, cannot be this fruit. Can such persons be said to neglect the end of their existence ? Undoubtedly ; for the following reasons : (1.) To do good to our fellow-creatures without regard lo God is to forget the principal relation in which we stand, and consequently to neglect the princijial duty. A right behaviour to each other is no proper compensation for the want of obedient regards to God (in- stanced in pirates and rebels). A regard to God is the root and origin of all real virtue. (2.) The end of man's existence cannot with any propriety be con- sidered as confined to diis world ; but the proper end accomplished by social virtues is entirely confined to the present state. (3.) No collective number of men can be independent of God, more than a single individual ; therefore no such collective body has a right to consult their common interest to the neglect of God, any more than a single individual to pursue his individual interest. The aggregate of mankind appears sometbing great and imposing in the eyes of men ; in consequence of which a peculiar importance is attached to those actions which tend to the public good. The magnhude of the general interest imposes a value on those actions which are adapted to advance so great an object. But in the sight of God, all nations are as the "drop of a bucket;" "he taketh up the isles as a very little thing." Suppose all the subjects of a lawful prince were to agree to stand by each other, and to promote each other's interest to the utmost ; would this be allowed by the prince as any atonement for a great and per- severing rebellion ? Or suppose a single individual so disposed, would not the result be the same ? No other can be substituted ibr tliis. III. He who answers not the end of his existence is fit only to be destroyed. He is like a vessel marred in the hand of the potter, proper only to be broken. Tlie barren vine may be useful as fuel, and to this purpose it is much applied in eastern countries. Thus wicked men may be useftd with a subordinate kind of usefulness, by their destruction. 1. They may thereby become edifying examples of the just vengeance of God, in order to deter others. That this will be one of the ends an- swered by the punishment of the wicked seems intimated in several * Jer. ii. 21. f Hos. x. 1. } Deut. xxxii. 32. CLAIMS OF THE FLESH. 59 passages of Scripture, as well as is supported by its analogy to human government. " And they shall go forth and look upon the carcasses of the men that have transgressed against me ; for their worm shall not die, neither shall their fire be quenched, and they shall be an abhorring unto all flesh."* 2. They will serve to manifest those attributes of the Great Supreme which their conduct disowned, and which it seemed virtually to call in question. " What if God, willing to show his wrath, and to make his power known, endured with much long-suft'ering the vessels of wrath fitted to destruction ?"t This is a subordinate use, not a primary end. It is that which men fit themselves for by their presumptuous and impenitent neglect of God. (1.) What blindness attaches to those who live in the total neglect of God and religion ! (2.) What little room is there for that confidence which many place in the correctness of deportment towards their fellow-creatures, while religion is not even pretended to be the governing principle of their lives ! (3.) AVhat need have we all to examine ourselves, and seriously to inquire whether we are yielding that fruit unto God on which we have been insisting ! (4.) How ought those to be alarmed when the result of such exam- ination is, that they have been hitherto utterly without fruit ! How strong the obligations on such, after considering their ways, to turn unto the Lord ! And thankful should they be that space is afforded ihera for repentance and salvatiofi.;]: X. CLAIMS OF THE FLESH. RoM. viii. 12. — Therefore, brethren, we are debtors, not to the Jlesh, to live after the flesh. It is of great importance for us to ascertain, not only the quality of particular actions, but the general principle on which our life is regu- lated, since it is this that must determine our true character in the sight of God. As there are but two sorts of persons in the world, the righteous and the wicked, the carnal and the spiritual, so there are only two grand principles which respectively actuate these two classes of mankind, and produce all that diversity of character by which they are distinguished. In the context they are characterized with such perspicuity and precision, that it is not difiicult to decide to which we belong. The one are described as enslaved, the other as free ; the one as being in the flesh, and " minding" the things of it ; the other as * Isaiah Ixvi. 24. 1 Rom. ix. 22. t Preached on Ihe morning of Sunday, October 31, 1814, at Leicester. 60 CLAIMS OF THE FLESH. inhabited and actuated by the Spirit : the former as the heirs of death, the latter as the joint-heirs with the Lord of a happy imniortahty. The text we have chosen for our present meditalioifis a legitimate inference deduced by the inspired writer from the premises he had been laying- down ; it is a conclusion at which he arrives, resulting from the views Avhich he had been exhibiting of the condition and expectation of two opposite descriptions of persons. " Therefore, brethren, we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live after the flesh." I shall endeavour, in the first place, to settle the meaning of the terms Jlesh and Spirit, employed in the context, in order to a right conception of the import of the proposition ; and in the second place, compare and adjust the opposite claims of the flesh and of the Spirit. 1. Flesh most properly denotes the body, in contradistinction from the soul : the matter of which the corporeal structure is formed : " there is one flesh of men."* And, 2. As all men are possessed of this, it is by an easy figure of speech applied to denote human nature, or mankind universally. " The end of all flesh is come before God."t 3. Because the fleshly or corporeal part of our nature may be per- ceived by the eye, it is sometimes used to denote that in religion which is merely outward and ceremoniaL Thus St. Paul says, " Having begun in the Spirit, are ye made perfect by the flesh ?"| Thus the same apostle speaks of " carnal ordinances."^ 4. On account of the deep and universal corruption of human nature, and this corruption displaying itself in a peculiar manner, in producing an addictedness to the indulgence of bodily or fleshly appetites, the term flesh is frequently used to denote moral corruption, or human nature considered as corrupt. It is manifest, from the consideration of the context, that this is the sense in which it is to be taken here. " That which is born of the flesh is flesh ;"|| that is, corrupt and sinful. In this sense of it, the works of the flesh- are contrasted by St. Paul with the fruits of the Spirit. " Now the works of the flesh are manifest, which are these : adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lasciviousness, idolatry, witchcraft, hatred, variance, emulations, wrath, strife, seditions, heresies, envyings, murders, drunkenness, revellings, and such like."F From the extent of the enumeration, which comprehends many nicnlal vices, it is manifest nothing less can be intended by the term Jlesh than the principle of corruption, the dictates of unrenewed nature. By the Spirit, it is plain we are not to understand the immaterial principle in man, but the blessed Spirit of God, the author of all holiness. This is evident from the context. Secondly. As they divide mankind between them, and every man walks according to the dictates of the one or the other, they are con- sidered as competitors. We shall examine and adjust their respective claims, that we may discern to which the preference is due, and come then fully to acquiesce in the decision of the apostle : " Therefore we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live after the flesh." * 1 Cor. XV. 39. t Gen. vi. 13. t Gal. jii. 3. ^ Heb. ix. 10. || John iii. 6. IT Gal. v. 19-21. CLAIMS OF THE FLESH. 61 There is an ellipsis in the text, which must be supplied from the train of thought in the context. Let us examine the claims of the flesh, or of corrupt nature. We may conceive the flesh pleading ancient possession. The pleasures and freedom from restraint attending a compliance with her dictates. The general usage and course of the world, which she reminds us has been such in every age. That the far greater part of mankind have been under her sway, the greatest of men not excepted, so that she can number nobles among her vassals, and among her subjects the princes of the earth. The most distinguished by their birth, their talents, or their fortune, she may allege, never dreamed of an exemption from her dominion, never thought of any other method of life than that of living after the flesh: faithful to her dictates through the whole of their lives, they bowed submissive at her shrine, were initiated into her mysteries, and died in her communion. Notwithstanding these specious pleas, however, we shall see sufiieient cause to decline her yoke, and to come to the apostolic conclusion, if we take the following things into our consideration. I. Its claims are founded upon usurpation ; they rest on no basis of equity. It alienates the property from its lawful possessor ; it inter- feres with a prior claim which nothing can fairly defeat. Sin, con- sidered as a master, does not enter upon a property that is derelict or abandoned by its owner ; but it attempts to occupy and appropriate what the proprietor never meant to resign, what he never can resign without irreparable injury to his honour. The souls of men are the most valuable part of his possessions below, and the most capable, indeed in one sense they alone are capable, of glorifying his perfections. 1. Let us consider that the Lord is our Maker, and we the work of his hands ; it is "he that created the heavens, and stretched them out; he that spread forth the earth, and that which cometh out of it ; he that giveth breath unto the people upon it, and spirit to them that walk therein."* The noble powers by which we are so highly distinguished from the inferior parts of the creation, the powers of thought and reason and conscience, are of his production ; from him they are derived, and by him they are sustained. His right in us is consequently more extensive than it is possible for us to conceive in any other instance, because none else ever gave existence to the smallest particle of dust in the balance ; it is incomparably more than that, to which it is com- pared, of the potter over the clay. Whatever claim interferes, then, with his dominion over us, must be founded in absolute injustice, without the guilt of which it is impossible to withhold any thing from him ; and it is injustice of the worst description, for it is robbing God. " Will a man rob God ?" exclaims the prophet : " yet ye have robbed me, saith the Lord, in tithes and off'erings."t But what are tithes and offerings compared to that love, adoration, and obe- dience in which, even while they were enjoined, all their value con- sisted, and which are of perpetual obligation when they cease any longer to be enjoined ? Nor does the dominion of God rest only on * Isaiah xlii. 5. -f Mai. iii. 8. 62 CLAIMS OF THE FLESH. his power as a Creator; it claims our submission also on the ground of those transcendent perfections and excellences which belong essen- tially to the blessed God, and the exercise of which is inseparable from his administration. By virtue of these he is the sovereign good, the only good ; for, strictly speaking, " there is none good but God ;" the infinite, the absolute, the unchanging, the satisfying, the all- comprehending good ; so that whatever appears beautiful or glorious among tiie creatures is but an efflux from his fulness, the faint reflection of his glory. 2. If we reflect on the powers with which we are endued, Ave cannot suppose that they are formed for no other end than the indulgence of carnal appetites, the amassing of riches, the enjoyment of sensual pleasures, or the procuring honours and distinctions from our fellow- worms. We shall be at no loss to perceive a strange disproportion between such powers and such pursuits, and that they cannot be confined to them without descending unspeakably beneath our level, without a base forgetfulness of ourselves as well as God, and a volun- tary dereliction of our rank. Jeremiah, when he witnessed the ruin and desolation of his country, beheld with astonishment those that were brought up in scarlet embrace dunghills ; a deplorable, but an involuntary degradation. But this we are now speaking of is chosen and voluntary ; these dunghills, for such are the highest forms of created good when compared with the blessed God, are embraced with appetite and desire. 3. If God were disposed to relinquish his claim, the usurpation of another master might be yielded to with the more plausible pretence: but this is not the case. If we believe his word, he never means to part with his right over his creatures. "If I am a father, where is my reverence ? if I am a master, where is my fear ?"* We cannot sup- pose, without the utmost absurdity, he will ever divest himself of his authority, which he could never do without impairing his dignity, and introducing confusion into his empire. He owes it to himself not to relinquish what we owe to him. The claims of the flesh then are founded on plain and direct usurpation. II. Let us next examine the claims of the flesh by what we have already derived from it. Let us see whether it is such a master as deserves to be served any longer. Of the boasted pleasures it has aflTorded, say. Christians, what remains but a painful and humiliating remembrance ? " What fruit had ye in those things of which ye are now ashamed ?" Has any thing accrued io you from the service of sin wliich you would wish to renew ? Though it might flatter your imagination with the appearance of good, did it not afterward " bite as a serpent and sting as an adder ?" You remember the wormwood and the gall you were made to taste when you were first convinced of its evil, and you know what a bitter and evil thing it is to depart from the living God. It has already brought you to the brink of destruction ; it has placed you in a situation in which nothing but the interposition of sovereign Mercy could have saved you. By estranging you from * Mai. i. 6. CLAIMS OF THE FLESH. 63 God, it shut xip the path to real good. In your unconverted state it indisposed you to prayer, armed you with prejudice against the salu- tary truths of the gospel, darkened your understanding, and seared your conscience. Such was its deceitfulness, that you were led by it to put " evil for good, and good for evil ; sweet for bitter, and bitter for sweet." Your ears were closed to the voice of the charmer, charmed he never so wisely. You were made to fancy that true religion was melancholy, that tenderness of conscience was needless scrupulosity, and that happiness was only to be found in the pleasures and pursuits of this world. It engaged you in the chase of innumerable vanities. You " followed after your lovers, but could not overtake them ;" fled froin one refuge to another, till, to speak in the language of the prophet, " You were wearied in the multitude of your way." In the mean time, to all pleasant and delightful intercourse with the Father of Spirits, to the sootliing accents of peace and pardon issuing from Christ, and to all the consolations of piety, you were utter strangers. In your more serious and reflecting moments, your heart meditated terror ; death, judgment, and eternity were awful sounds in your ears, and you only felt a delusive and sickly repose, while you forgot they had any existence. On a calm review of your conduct, you felt an uneasiness which you were conscious was so just and well founded that you seldom dared to reflect. Surely you will acknowledge that you at least are not debtors to the flesh. And what has the flesh to plead for its services which will bear for a moment to be weighed against these great evils'? What has Satan to plead, who by means of it "rules in the children of disobedience V Will he venture to mention a few vain and sinful amusements, a wanton arbitrary liberty, or a few transient guilty pleasures, which I trust you are so far from wishing to repeat, that you never think of them without blushing before God ? How are you more indebted to the flesh, since you had reason to hope you formed a saving acquaintance with God ? The partial indulgence to its dictates has robbed you of your comfort, has retarded your progress to heaven, and made you pass many a day sad and disconsolate, when but for this the joy of the Lord would have been your strength. The more we observe what passes around us with a serious mind, the more we shall be convinced how little men are indebted to the flesh. Look at that young man, the early victim of lewdness and intemperance, who, though in the bloom of life, has " his bones filled with the sins of his youth." Survey his emaciated cheek, his infirm and withered frame, and his eyes sunk and devoid of lustre ; the pic- ture of misery and dejection. Hear his complaint, how he mourns at the last, novv his flesh and his body are consumed : " How have I hated instruction and my heart despised reproof, and have not obeyed the voice of my teachers, nor inchned my ear to them that instructed me ! — I was almost in all evil in the midst of the congregation of the assembly." Is he a debtor to the flesh? Behold that votary of the world, successful as he has been in the pursuit of it, and stained by no flagrant crime. Yet he has lived " without God in the world ;" and now his days are drawing to a close, he feels himself verging to 64 CLAIMS OF THE FLESH. the grave, and no hope animates, no pleasing reflection cheers him. The only consolation he receives, or rather the only relief of his anguish, is in grasping the treasures he must shortly quit. Is he a debtor to the flesh 1 III. We shall examine the claims of the flesh by the aspect they bear on our future interests. Before we engage in the service of a master, it is reasonable to inquire into the advantages he stipulates, and the prospects of futurity attendant upon his service. In the ordi- nary concerns of life, we should consider the neglect of such an inquiry chargeable with the highest imprudence. Dreadful is it, in this view, to reflect on the consequences inseparably annexed to the service of corruption. " If ye live after the flesh," says the apostle, " ye shall die."* " The wages of sin is death."t And to demonstrate the close and unavoidable connexion subsisting between them he adds, " If ye sow to the flesh, ye shall of the flesh reap corruption."! It is not an incidental connexion, it is an indissoluble one, fixed in the constitution of things. " Lust, when it is conceived, bringeth forth sin, and sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death. "^ If we live in the indul- gence of carnal appetites, if we comply habitually with the dictates of corrupt nature, the word of God lias assured us of what will fol- low : " The end of these things is death. "|1 " Let no man deceive you with vain words ; for because of these things cometh the wrath of God on the children of disobedience. "F " Be not deceived, God is not mocked : whatsoever a man sowelh, that also shall he reap."** For this reason we can never be debtors to the flesh, to live after the flesh ; the very reason assigned in the clause immediately following the text. We can never be under obligations to obey such a master, who rewards his services with death, — death spiritual and eternal. The fruits of sin, when brought to maturity, are corruption : his most finished production is death, — and the materials on which he works the fabric of that manufacture, if we may be allowed so to speak, consist in the elements of damnation. To such a master we can owe nothing but a decided rejection of his offers, a perpetual abhorrence, and an awful fear of ever being deceived by his stratagems, or entangled in his snares. * Rom. viii. 13. t Rom. vi. 23. i Gal. vi. 8. $ James i. 15. II Rom. vi. 21. V Ephes. v. 6. ** Gal. vi. 7. ON REGENERATION. flg XL ON THE CAUSE, AGENT, AND PURPOSE OF REGENERATION. AMES i. 1 8. — Of his oivn will begat he us with the word of truth, that we should be a kind of first-fruits of his creatures. In this chapter the apostle endeavours to fortify the minds of the professors of Christianity, under the various trials and persecutions to which their religion exposed them, by assuring them of the happy fruits, in their spiritual improvement, they might expect to reap from them here, and the more abundant reward which awaited them here- after. "My brethren, count it all joy when ye fall into divers tempta- tions, knowing this, that the trying of your faith worketh patience."* Lest any might be induced to relax in their vigilance, under an idea that the circumstances of their trial w^ere too arduous, and that if they shrunk in the combat they might excuse themselves from the consid- eration of. its being disproportioned to their strength, and that they were therefore, in fact, templed of God, he takes pains to repel this insinuation, and to show that the success of any temptation whatever is solely to be imputed to the unbridled corruption of the human heart. It is, he tells us, " when a man is drawn away by his own heart'«6 lust, and enticed," that he is " tempted ;"t this sinful corruption has its origin in his own heart only ; nor is in the smallest degree to be imputed to God, as though he impelled to it by a direct agency, or so ordered things, in the course of his providence, as to render it unavoidable. The sum of his doctrine on this head appears to be this, that all evil is from our- selves, and from the disordered state of our hearts, on which temptation operates ; while, on the contrary, all moral and spiritual good is from God, and " cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variableness, neither shadow of turning."^ The communications of grace are emphatically denominated " good and perfect gifts," by way of asserting their immeasurable superiority to the blessings which relate to the present lile ; and of these gifts St. James affirms, that every orfe of them " is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights." Their origin is truly celestial : they are not capable of being communicated, like the good things of this life, by one human being to another ; they are, strictly speaking, divine donations, which can only proceed from above. As a further illustration of the proposition he had been laying down, he introduces the words of the text : " Of his own will begat he us with the word of truth, that we should be a kind of first-fruits of his creatures." These words instruct us in the cause, tlie instrument, and the end of the renovation of Christians. L The cause is " the will" of God ; — God operating by a free and spontaneous agency. His grace imparted in regeneration must be * James i. 2, 3. t James i. 14. } James i. 17. Vol. IIL— E 66 OX THE CAUSE, AGENT, AXD PURPOSE acknowledged to be grace the most free and unmixed, the fruit of his sovereign will, in opposition to any necessity of nature to which it may be ascribed : for though the nature of his agency cannot but be consonant to his character, though the fruit of his Spirit cannot but be most pure and holy, yet he was under no necessity to interpose at all. That the effect of his special operation on the hearts of the faithful should be sanctifying is unavoidable ; but his operating at all by his Spirit in the restoration of a fallen creature is to be ascribed solely to " his own good pleasure."* It is of his own will, as opposed, not only to a necessity of nature in him, but to any claim of merit in the subject of this his gracious agency. No previous worthiness of ours, no attractive excellence in us, engaged his attention, or induced him to exert his power in our renovation : for whence could this arise in a creature so fallen and corrupt as to need so thorough a renovation 1 Or how, since " every good and perfect gift Cometh from above," can it be supposed to subsist previous to, or apart from, his donation ? In the context the apostle has been strongly in- sisting on it, that the beginning of all moral evil is to be ascribed to man ; the beginning of all good to the Supreme Being ; and it is in supporting this assertion he introduces the words of the text, " Of his own will begat he us." No signs of virtuous and laudable conduct had ensued to proctire the communication of divine grace, agreeable to what another apostle observes in his epistle to Titus: "not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to his mercy he saved us, by the washing of regeneration, and the renewing of the Holy Ghost."t The production and maintenance of religion is styled, by the same writer, " the good pleasure of his will."| II. The instrument of this renovation is " the word of truth." In infusing the principle of divine life into the soul, God is wont to em- ploy the gospel as the instrument, styled, with the utmost propriety, " the word of truth*:" not only on account of the infallible truth and certainty of all its declarations, but on account of its high dignity and excellence, as a revelation from God, it is " the truth ;" to which what- ever is contrary is imposture, and whatever is compared to it insig- nificant.^ It falls not within Uie limits of this discourse to illustrate at large the manner in which the word of God produces a saving change : two circumstances may suffice to establish the fact. The first is, that where the light of the gospel is unknown no such beneficial alteration in the character is perceived, no features of a renewed and sanctified mind are to be traced. The second is, that among those who live under the light of the gospel, the reality of such a change is less or more to be perceived, in proportion to the degree in which the gospel is seriously attended to and cordially received. E-\'ery person who is deeply influenced by religious considerations, and enabled to live a lioly and spiritual life, will acknowledge his deep obligations to the gospel ; and that it is to its distinguishing discoveries he is, under God, ■ Phil. ii. 13. t Tilus iii. 5. t 2 Thess. i. 11. ^ Oal. iii. 1. OF REGENERATION. 67 indebted for the renovation he has experienced. " Being born again," saith St. Peter, " not of corruptible seed, but of incorruptible, by the word of God, which liveth and abideth for ever."* III. We are directed to the consideration of the end proposed by this regenerating influence, " that we might be a kind of iirst-fruit of the creatures." In the .Jewish law, which was, in all its essential parts, a perpetual shadow of the gospel, the first-fruits of the earth were commanded to be dedicated in the temple, and presented by the priest as an offering to God : " The first of the fruits of tliy land thou shalt bring into the house of the Lord thy God."t In the performance of this part of religious duty, an affecting form of words was prescribed, expressive of the humility and gratitude of the offerer. I When a vineyard was planted, the Israelites were forbidden to partake of the fruits for the first three years, during which it was to be looked upon as uncircumcised and impure : " And when ye shall come into the land, and shall have planted all manner of trees for food, then ye shall count the fruit thereof as uncircumcised : three years shall it be as uncircumcised unto you : it shall not be eaten of. But in the fourth year all the fruit thereof shall be holy to praise the Lord withal."^ In allusion to this the apostle observes, the design of Christianity is, that being received into the heart as a renovating principle, we may become in a spiritual sense what the fruits presented in the temple were in a literal, — "a certain first-fruits of his creatures;" in which representation he meant probably to include the following ideas : — • that we should be dedicated to God as holy persons, separated from every unclean use ; that we should be distinguished as the most excel- lent part of his creatures, as the first-fruits were ever considered as the best of the kind ; and that our dedication to God should be a pledge and [earnest] of the universal sanctification of the creatures. 1.. This representation denotes our solemn dedication to God as holy persons, — as persons set apart for his use and service. Christians are not their own, and the method by which God claims and appro- priates them to himself is that of regenerating grace. The principle of regeneration is a principle which prompts men to devote themselves to God. They in whom it is planted " present themselves a living sacrifice,"|| as " a reasonable service ;" they pre- sent all their faculties and powers to him ; their understanding, to be guided and enlightened by his truth ; their will, to be swayed by his authority and to be obedient to his dictates ; their hearts and affections, to be filled with his presence and replenished with his love ; the * 1 Pet. i. 23. ■ t Exod. xxxiv. 26. i " Thou Shalt take of the first of al! the fruit of the earl h, which thou shalt bring of thy land that the Lnrd thy God giveth thee, and shalt put it in a basket, and shalt go unto the place which the Lord thy God shall choose to place his name there. " And thnu shall speak and say before the Lord thy God, A Syrian ready to perish was my father, and he went down into Egypt and sojourned there with a few^ and became there a nation, great, mighty, and populoiis. '■ And now, behold, I have brought the first-fruits of the land which thou, O Lord, hast given me. And thou shalt set it before the Jtord thy God, and worship before the Lord thy God." DetU. XXVI. % 5. 10. ^ Lev. xix. 23, 94. IJ Ronnil. 1. E2 68 OX THE CAUSE, AGENT, AND PURPOSE members of their body, to be instruments of his glory sacred to his use ; their time, to be employed in the way which he directs, and in pursuit of the objects wiiich he prescribes, and no longer according to the dictates of inclination and caprice. They feel and cheerfully acknowledge the obligations they are under to regard him as theii- God, — their owner and their Lord, through the Redeemer. They deprecate the thought of considering themselves under any other light than as those who are " bought with a price ;"* that as God was highly honoured by presenting the first-fruits in the temple, since it w^as an acknowledgment of the absolute right over all things inhering in him, and whatever was possessed was held at his pleasure, so he is much more honoured by devoting ourselves, in proportion as the ofTerer is superior to the gift, in proportion as a reasonable creature is superior to unconscious matter. " They gave themselves," says St. Paul, speaking of the Macedonians, " first to the Lord ;"t they gave themselves immediately to Jesus Christ as the great High-priest and Mediator, to be by him presented with acceptance to the Father, just as the basket of first-fruits was put into the hand of the priests to be laid upon that " altar which sanctifies the gift."| It would have been great presumption for an Israelite to present his fruits without the intervention of the priest, as they were to be received immediately from his hands ; so in our approaches we are to come first to the Mediator, and in his name to devote ourselves to God : " No mau cometh to the Father but by him."§ Though we are infinitely unworthy of the acceptance of so great a King, yet when we present ourselves we offer the noblest present in our power, we ofi'er that which has an intrinsic excellence far beyond the most costly material gifts : we offer what has a suitability in it to the character of God ; that which is immaterial to the " Father of lights,"|| and that which is spiritual to the " Father of spirits. "F If he will deign to receive any tribute or acknowledgment at the hands of a fallen creature, as he had demonstrated his readiness to do through a Mediator, what can be deemed equally fit for this purpose with the solemn consecration of our inmost powers to him, in love, adoration, and obedience ? A soul resigning itself to him, panting after him, and ambitious of pleasing him in all things, is a far more excellent gift than the numerous peace-offerings which Solomon, surrounded by a whole nation, presented at the dedication of the temple. Under the gospel he makes little account of other offering: the fruit which he demands is the fruit of our lips. By the Lord Jesus, therefore, "let. us offer the sacrifice of praise to God continually, that is, the fruit of our lips, giving thanks to his name."** When the fruits were dedicated the grant was irrevocable. The right to them passed fully and for ever from the ofl'erer, so as to make it impossible for him ever to resume them again. Thus when we have dedicated ourselves to God the act is irrevocable ; we must never pretend the least riglu in ourselves any more ; we are to consider ourselves entirely the Lord's. * 1 Cor. vi. 20. t 2 Cor. viii. 5. t Matt, xxiii. 19. ^ John xiv. 6. y James i. 17 V Hob. .xii. 9. ' ♦ H«b. .\iii. 15. OF REGENERATION. 69 2. This "being a certain first-fruits of his creatures," denotes the superior honour and dignity Avliicli it is tlie gracious design of God to put upon Christians. The first-fruits presented to God were not only- required to be of the best, but they derived a pre-eminence above all others from the very circumstance of their being dedicated to God ; they were employed to a nobler use. Grace dignifies and exalts in a similar manner its possessor : " Tlie righteous is more excellent than his neighbour ;"* however obscure in station, and however beclouded and depressed by the meanness of his external condition, he is one of the excellent of the earth. His employment is that of " a king and a priest unto God."t In reflecting some rays of his image, in advancing the honour and sustaining the cause of the blessed God, he is infinitely more honourably occupied than the votaries of the world or the servants of sin. His calling is " high and heavenly."]; He is asso- ciated with Jesus and the holy angels in sacred ministries, his pursuits are of a permanent and eternal nature. If we consider the principles, also, which actuate good men and form the basis of their character, we shall perceive a greatness and elevation to which the world is an entire stranger. Is there nothing more noble in taking a wide prospect, and in looking at " the things which are unseen and eternal,"^ than in being absorbed in transitory concerns ? Is not that a higher species of wisdom which calculates upon the interests and advantage which lie concealed from eyes of flesh in .the depths of eternity, than that which contents itself with securing perishing riches ? Is it not incomparably more noble and more worthy of an immortal creature to be " providing for himself bags that wax not old," " a treasure in the heavens that fadeth not,"|| than in searching for " filthy lucre ?"F Is there not more true dignity in the patience that waits with composure to be happy, than in the childish eagerness which catches at every momentary gratification ? Is it not more magnanimous to conquer than submit to the world? to tread the world under our feet than to be enslaved by it ? to be able to exercise that self-command over our sensual affections which secures the pleasures of innocence and the approbation of conscience, than to be the victim of unbridled passions 1 to rule our own spirit, than to be the sport of its tyrannical disorder? to rise above a sense of injury so as to forgive our enemies, rather than to be tormented with malice and revenge ? He must be insensible to reason who is at a loss how to answer these inter- rogatories ; and to answer them in the affirmative is to attest the superior dignity of the Christian character, to acknowledge that Chris- tians are " a sort of first-fruits of the creatm-es." They are so at present with all the imperfections which attach to their 'state and their character ; but they will be incomparably more so when they shall be assembled around the Throne, and it shall be declared of them, " These are they which follow the Lamb whithersoever he * Prov. xii. 26. f Rev. i. 6. t Heb. iu. 1. $ 2 Cor. iv. 1«. II Luke xii. 33 IT 1 Tim. ill. 3. 70 ON SPIRITUAL DEATH. goeth : these were redeemed from among men, being the first-fruits unto God and the Lamb."* 3. The representation of Christians as a certain first-fruits of the creatures imphes the accession of the future harvest ; they are a pledge only of what is to follow ; their dedication to God as the first-fruits is a preparation for the universal prevalence of religion, — the universal sanctification of the creatures. Ii/iprovcment. I. Let us adore God for having planted in the breast a principle of true reliyion, IL Let us be ambitious of exemplifying the excellence and dignity of our Christian calling. in. As an important means of this, let us study the gospel, and endeavour to gain a deeper and more extensive acquaintance with the word of truth. t XII. ON SPIRITUAL DEATH. Eph. ii. 1. — And you hath he quickened who were dead in trespasses and sins. The pov\'er of God was most illustriously displayed in raising Christ from the dead ; but there is another operation of Divine power which bears a great resemblance to this, of which every individual believer is the subject. It is the prayer of the apostle, in the latter part of the preceding chapter, thai the Ephesians might have an increasing experience of the effects of that power which is exerted towards "them that believe, accord- ing to tlie working of his mighty power ;" and what particular effect of Divine [power] he had in immediate contemplation, he informs us in the first part of the ensuing chapter: "And you hath he quickened who were dead in trespasses and sins." He had not merely raised Christ from the dead, but he had wrought a similar deliverance for the Ephesians by imparting spiritual life to those who had been dead in trespasses and sins. In treating of these words, I shall first inquire to what extent this representation of a death in trespasses and sins is to be applied, and to what description of persons it belongs ; secondly, I shall endeavour to show^ its import ; and thirdly, make a few remarks on the wretched state of those who may justly be affirmed to be dead in trespasses and sins. • Rev. xiv. 4. t Preached TtU of March, 1811, at the Wednesday evening Iccturq. ON SPIRITUAL DEATH. 71 May the Lord the Spirit apply the awful truths we shall have occa- sion to unfold, with power to the conscience. I. Are those expressions, " dead in trespasses and sins," to be understood as applicable only, or chiefly, to heathens ? or to such in Christian countries as have run very remarkable lengths in wickedness '' or are they applicable to the state of the unconverted universally? The heathen, say some, were exceedingly corrupt and wicked, totally enslaved to idols, " without hope and without God in the world." It was in consideration of this their remarkable alienation from God, and extreme corruption of inanners, the apostle was led to employ such phrases; which are by no means to be applied to men educated in the . light of Christianity, although they may not yet be in a state of salva- tion. Whether the representation applies to heathens only, or to those in a Christian country who for their enormous sins may be justly compared to heathens ; or whether they are to be applied to uncon- verted sinners universally, will perhaps sufficiently appear from the following considerations. 1. The apostle expressly includes himself among those whose former state he had been considering.* To the same purpose the apostle includes himself in the following description : " For we our- selves were sometimes foolish, disobedient, deceived, serving divers lusts and pleasures, living in malice and envy, hateful, and haiing one another."! 2. The same expression is applied generally to those who never were heathens. " And another of his disciples said, Lord, suffer me first to go and bury my father. But Jesus said, Let the dead bury their dead,"J the meaning of which is obvious. Let those who are spiritually dead, who are therefore totally unqualified to serve me in the gospel, perform such offices as those, to which they are fully equal ; but for thee, thou art fitted for a higher and nobler employment — go thou and preach the gospel. 3. It is the declared intention of Jesus Christ, by his appearance in our world, to give life to the world by exhibiting himself as the bread of life. " I am come that they might have life."^ Here we have the affirmation of him that cannot lie ; that those, whosoever they be, that are destitute of saving faith, are also destitute of spiritual life. " They have no life in them ;"|| which can surely be understood in no other sense than what is equivalent to the passage before us. 4. True Christians, without any exception, are described as persons who have " passed from death unto life."F " He that heareth my words, and believeth on him that sent me, hath everlasting life, and shall not come into condemnation ; but hath passed from death unto life."** " Hereby we know we have passed from death unto life, because we love the brethren ; he that loveth not his brother abideth in death."tt Here the moral state of the world is supposed to be separated by an invisible boundary into two regions, a region of life and a region of death ; and it is implied that none come into the former, that is, that * Eph. ii. 3, 4. t Tit. iii. 3. t Matt. viii. 22. « John x. 10; vi. 32, 33, II John vi. 53. IT John v. 24. +* Ibid. ft 1 John iii. 14. 72 ON SPIRITUAL DEATH. of life, but by passing into it from tlie latter. They were not natives of this blessed region, but migrated or travelled to it from an opposite one. And who are those remaining in a state of death ? " He who loveth not his brother ;" that is, who loveth not Christians as Christians, which is certainly the character of all the unrenewed and unregenerate. We are justified then in applying this description "dead in trespasses and sins," to every person who has not been renewed by the grace of God. It is time to proceed, in the next place, to explain the import of this representation, or to unfold some of the leading particulars included in a state of spiritual death. 1. It implies a privation, or withdrawment, of a principle, which properly belongs, and once did belong, to the subject of which it is affirmed. It would be quite improper to speak of any thing as dead which was never endued with a living principle. We never speak of the inanimate parts of creation, such as earth and stones, as dead, because they are as they ever were ; no living powers are extinguished in them. But from whatever once had life, when that life is withdrawn which it formerly possessed, we aflirm that it is dead. Thus we speak of plants, of animals, and men, when bereft of the vital principle, as dead. The death that overspreads the souls of tlie unregenerate consists in privations, in the withdrawment of what originally belonged to the soul of man, that gracious communication from God which is life. As the life of the body is derived from its union with the immortal spirit, and continues no longer than while that union subsists, so the life of the soul is derived from hs union with God. Sin dissolved that union. In consequence of sin the blessed [God] withdrew from the soul, and the effect of that is, that though it is not deprived of its natural powers, as the body even after death still continues to subsist as matter ; its life and happiness are gone. The withdrawment of God is with respect to the soul, what the withdrawment of the soul is in relation to the body. In each case the necessary effect is death ; and as that which occasioned that with- drawment is sin, it is very properly denominated a " death in trespasses and sins." Now this view of the subject ought surely to fill us with the deepest concern. Had man never possessed a principle of divine life, there would have been less to lament in his condition. We are less affected at the consideration of what we never had, than by the loss of advantages which we once possessed. We look at a stone, or a piece of earth, without the least emotion, because, though it be destitute of life, we are conscious it was never possessed. But when we look upon a corpse, it excites an awful feeling. Here, we are ready to reflect [and] say, dwelt an immortal spirit ; those eyes were once kindled, those limbs were once animated by an ethereal fire, and a soul was once diffused throughout this frame. It is now fled, and has left nothing but the ruins of a man. Did we view things in a right light, we should be far more affected still in contemplating a dead soul. Here, we should remember, God once dwelt. The soul of man was once the abode of light and life. " How is the gold changed, and the ON SPIRITUAL DEATH. 73 fine gold become dim !" It is now overspread with carnality and darkness. It is now a lost, fallen spirit. 2. To be dead in trespasses and sins intimates the total, the uni- versal prevalence of corruption. Life admits of innumerable degrees and kinds. There is one sort of vegetative life, as in plants, another subsists in animals, and in man a rational, which is a still more superior principle of life. Wliere life is of the same sort it is susceptible of different degrees. It is much more perfect in the larger sorts of animals than in reptiles. The vital principle in different men exists with various degrees of vigour, so that some are far more animated, alert, and vigorous than others. But there are no degrees in death. All things of which it can be truly said that they are dead are equally dead. There are no degrees in privation ; thus it is with all who are dead in trespasses and sins. They are all equally dead. They may possess very estimable and amiable qualities, such as naturally engage the love of their fellow- creatures ; but being equally destitute of a principle of spiritual life, they are all in one and the same state of death ; they are governed by the same carnal principle ; they are in the flesh, and therefore cannot please God.* They are alike subjects of the prince of darkness ; they serve the same master, and belong to the same kingdom. Every unsanctified person is totally " alienated from the life of God," — is totally devoid of love to Him, and a perception of his true glory and excellence. How can it be otherwise, when he is under the influence of that " carnal mind which is enmity against God ?"t There are some sinners who are of so winning and gentle a disposition that we are ready to flatter ourselves it is easy to conduct them to God, and to form them to the love and practice of true religion ; but when the experiment is tried, we soon find ourselves undeceived. Unless the Spirit of God pleases to operate, we find it as impossible to persuade them to seek the Lord by prayer, to mortify their corruptions, and set their affections on heavenly things, as persons of the most forbidding and unamiable tempers. We discover a rooted and invincible antipathy to whatever is spiritual. There are others who, by the influences of Rom. viii. 8. t Rom. viii. 7. 74 ON CONVERSION. Xlll. ON CONVERSION, AS ILLUSTRATED BY THAT OF ST. PAUL, Gal. i. 15, 16. — But when it pleased God, who separated me from my mother's womb, and called me by his grace, to reveal his Son in me, that I might preach him among the heathen; immediately I conferred not with flesh and blood. Of all the events which can befall us in this transitory state, there is none which deserves equally to be devoutly reflected upon with our conversion to God. This is an event by far the most important and the most beneficial. In looking back upon it, the strongest motives arise to humility, to gratitude, and to " a patient continuance in well- doing." We find tlie holy apostle frequently adverting to it ; always in terms that bespeak the lively impression the review of it made on his mind. In the case of St. Paul, there w-ere many circumstances not paralleled in the general experience of Christians ; but in its essential features, in the views with which it was accompanied, and the eflTects it produced, it was exactly the same as every one must experience before he can enter into the kingdom of God. As things of an internal and spiritual nature are best understood by examples, so we shall be at a loss, in the whole records of the church, to find a more striking and instructive example of the efficacy of divine grace in conversion than that of St. Paul, to wliich he directs the attention of the Galatians in the passage under presen* consideration. In this instructive passage he gives us a view of his conversion in its causes, its means, and its effects. I. Its causes. " He separated me from my mother's womb." Thus he styles [himself] " separated to the gospel of God."* It is possible he may allude to the revelation to Jeremiah on his appointment to the prophetic office : " Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee ; and before thou earnest forth out of the womb I sanctified thee, and ordained thee to be a prophet to the nations."! While he, Paul, was running a career of persecuting fury, the Saviour entertained designs of mercy towards him, agreeable to what he declared to Ananias : — " He is a chosen vessel to me to confess my name before nations, and kings, and the people of Israel. "| We cannot suppose the purposes of God to be of recent date, or to have taken rise from any limited point of tinie. What he designs he designs from eternity. Whatever he accomplishes is agreeable to his eternal purposes and word : " Who hath saved us, and called us with an holy calling, not according to our works, but according to his owij * Rom. i. 1. t Jor. i. 5. J Acu ix. J. ON CONVERSION. 76 purposes and grace, which was given us in Christ Jesus before the world began."* Did he separate the apostle from his mother's womb ? was he a chosen vessel ? and must we not affirm [the same] of every one who is made partaker of the grace that is in Christ Jesus ? Are not all genuine ChristiaiTS addressed as " elect of God," or chosen of God, " through sanctification of the Spirit, unto obedience and the sprinkling of the blood of Jesus Christ ?"t Why should not the real Christian give scope to those emotions of gratitude which such reflec- tions will inspire 1 Why should he not adore that mercy which pre- served him in his unregenerate state, spared him while in his sins, and waited to be gracious ? The next cause, the more immediate one, to which the apostle as- cribes his conversion, was his call by divine Grace. " Whom he predestinated them he also called. ":j: There is a general call in the gospel, addressed to all men indiscriminately. Gracious invitations are given, without exception, far as the sound of the gospel extends ; but this of itself is not effectual. There is in every instance of real conversion another and inward call by which the Spirit applies the general truth of the gospel to the heart. " By this interior call, Christ apprehends, lays hold on the soul, stops it in its impenitent progress, and causes it to " hear his voice." The methods of the Divine operations in this inward and effectual calling are various ; sometimes alarming and awakening providences are made use of for this purpose. The solemnities of death and judg- ment are forcibly presented to the attention : judgment appears nearly to commence, and the awful scenes of eternity appear near ; the care- less creature is awakened to perceive his guilt and danger, and is compelled to cry out, " What must I do to be saved ? — as when the earthquake, and the opening of the prison doors, accompanied with unspeakable terrors, impressed the obdurate mind of the jailer, and made him fall down at the feet of his prisoners, trembling and amazed. Of the three thousand at the day of Pentecost, we read, that " they were pricked in their heart." Others, like the eunuch and Lydia, are wrought upon in a more gentle manner — drawn with the " cords of love, and the ties of man." That there is such a change produced by the Spirit of God will not be questioned by a diligent and attentive peruser of the Scriptures ; he will observe, the Spirit is always affirmed to be the author of a sav- ing change ; and the regenerate are particularly affirmed to be " born of God,"^ " born of the Spirit. "|| In applying the term " called," to such persons in a peculiar sense we have the clearest authority of the Scrip- tures : " To them which are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God, and the wisdom of God."F " All things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose. For whom he did foreknow, he also did predestinate. Moreover, whom he did predestinate, them he also * 2 Tim. i. 9. t 1 Pet. t. 2. 1 Rom. viii. 30. ^ I John iv. 7. II John iii. 5. TT 1 Cor. i. Zt- 76 ON CONVERSION. called,"* Sic. This calling is by grace : " Who hath called us with an holy calling, not according to our works, but accorduig to his own pur- pose and grace. "t II. The means by which conversion is effected : " Revealing his Son in me." The principal method which the Spirit adopts in subdu- ing the heart of a sinner is a spiritual discovery of Christ. There is an attractive force in the Saviour, when beheld by faith, which commands. Christ crucified possesses a drawing power; " When the Son of man is lifted up, he will draw all men unto him.":f No radical and saving change is effected, without the exhibition of this object ; nor are the terrors of the law alone ever sufficient for that purpose : they are sufficient to show the heinousness of sin, and the extreme danger to which the sinner is exposed, but have no tendency to produce a complete renovation. " By the law is the knowledge of sin :"^ the law will discover our disease, but the knowledge of Christ is the discovery of the remedy. The law de- nounces its awful sentence : the discovery of Christ points out the method of deliverance and escape. The law at most is but a peda- gogue, or " schoolmaster fo bring us to Christ." All saving influence and solid consolation spring from him, and from him alone. " The law kills," as the ministration of condemnation ; it is " Christ who makes alive." The revelation of Christ is found in the Scriptures ; but in conver- sion the Spirit removes " the veil on the heart," dispels prejudice, and affords that inward and divine light by which alone Christ is discerned to saving purposes. St. Paul speaks of Christ being revealed in him, in distinction from that external record of him which is contained in the Word. As there is an external call and an internal ; the former universal, but often ineffectual ; the latter personal, but always efficient ; so there is an outward revelation of Christ and an internal, of which theunder- standing and the heart are the seat. Hence it is, with the utmost propriety, said to be a revelation " in us." The minds of men, until they are renewed, resemble an apartment, shut up and enclosed with sometliing which is not transparent ; the light shines around with much splendour, but the apartment remains dark, in consequence of its entrance being obstructed. Unbelief, inattention, love of the world and of sin, hardness of heart, form the obstructions in question. Let these be removed, and the discoveries of the Word penetrate and diffuse a light and conviction through the soul : " The light shined in darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not."|| Thus it was with St. Paul before his conversion : l«s prejudices against the gospel were inveterate ; his animosity violent and active ; but no sooner was Christ renewed in him than all was changed. The spirit of God reveals the following things in Christ : — 1. His greatness and dignity. Men in their unrenewed state have very low andt»contemptible thoughts of Christ. Whatever compli- * Rom Triii. 28-30. t 2 Tim. 1. 9. J John xii. 32. $ Rom. iii. 20. llJohn. i. 5. ON CONVERSION. 7f mentary epithets they may bestow upon hiin, they have in theh- liearts no [elevated] conception of him, but just the contrary : he is to tliem " a root out of a dry ground." St. Paul had the most mean thoughts of Christ previous to his conversion ; but after that these mistaken views were entirely corrected. The majesty and power of Christ were exhibited to him with such eftect, that he fell at his feet, exclaiming, " What wilt thou have me to do?"* He was from that moment fully convuiced that Jesus Christ had " all power in heaven and on earth," that he was seated at the right-hand of God, and that he was in all respects that great and glorious person which the Scriptures represent him to be. His views wei-e extended and enlarged ; an interest in him appeared supremely valuable, his approbation supremely desirable. The knowledge of him appeared to be the most excellent knowledge. 2. The Spirit reveals his transcendent beauty and glory. The Scriptures speak much of the transcendent excellency of Christ, the perception of which has laid a foundation for that ardent attachment which the faithful have borne to him in every age. There is a sur- passing beauty in the Saviour, which needs but to be perceived in order to eclipse every [other] object, and make it appear insipid and contempti- ble in the comparison. This beauty is visible in every part of the Saviour's character. In whatever light he is viewed, he is " fairer than the sons of men." " Grace is poured into his lips." " All thy garments smell of myrrh, and aloes, and cassia, out of the ivory palaces, wherein they have made thee glad."t " Because of the savour of thy good ointments ; thy name is as ointment poured forth ; therefore do the virgins love thee." It is of him that Isaiah speaks when he foretels the high esteem in which he should be held in a future age ; " In that day shall the branch of the Lord be beautiful and glorious, and the fruit of the earth shall be excellent and comely to them that are escaped of Israel."^ 3. The Spirit reveals the suitableness, fulness, and sufficiency of the Saviour to supply all our wants and relieve all our miseries. The fitness of his office to our situation, and his complete competence to discharge these offices, — the richness and perfection of that provision which there is in Christ, is a principal part of what the Spirit reveals in conversion. In consequence, the soul is imboldened to venture upon him, and, extinguishing all other hope and confidence, to rely upon him alone. This is that reception of Christ which, whosoever gives, is entitled to the privilege of becoming the child of God. III. We proceed to remark the efl'ect of St. Paul's conversion. Immediately, "I conferred not with flesh and blood." He was not " disobedient to the heavenly vision." He set himself, without hesita- tion or demur, to discharge the duties of his heavenly vocation. 1. His compliance with the will Of Christ was instant, iinmcdiate, not like the eldest son in the parable, whom the father commanded ta work in his vineyard. i^ 2. It was universal and impartial. He did not make choice and selection of the .more easy duties and less costly sacrifices, but * Acts L\. 6. t P3- ^Iv. 8. X Isa. iv. 2. % MjU. xxi. 28, 29. 78 ON THE CONVERSION OF ST. PAUL. engaged in the service thoroughly and conscientiously. He spent his life in a series of most laborious, painful, and self-denying services, not living to himself. He spent his life in publishing the name of the Saviour who had been revealed in him. 3. His compliance w^as constant and persevering. XIV. ON THE CONVERSION OF ST. PAUL. Acts xxvi. 9-18. — I verily thought' with myself, that I ought to do many things contrary to the name of Jesus of Nazareth, Which thing I also did in Jerusalem : and many of the saints did I shut up in prison, having received authority from the chief priests ; and when they were put to death, I gave my voice against them. And I punished them oft in every synagogue, and compelled them to blas- pheme ; and being exceedingly mad against them, I persecuted them even unto strange cities. Whereupon, as I went to .Damascus, with authority and commission from the chief priests, at midday, O king, I saw in the way a light from lieaven, above the brightness of the sun, shining round about me and them that journeyed with me. And when we were all fallen to the earth, I heard a voice speakirig unto me, and saying in the Hebrew tongue, Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me ? It is hard for thee to kick against the pricks. And I said, Who art thou, Lord ? And he said, I am Jesus whom thou persecutest. But rise, and stand upon thy feet : for I have appeared unto thee for this purpose, to make thee a minister and a witness both of these things which thou hast seen, and of those things in the which I will appear unto thee; deliocring thee from the people, and from the gentiles, unto whom now I send thee, to open their eyes, and to turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto God, that they may receive forgiveness of sins, and inheritance among them which are sanctified by faith that is in me. The conversion of St. Paul is one of the most extraordinary facts recorded in the sacred Scriptures ; and, whether we consider it as affording a demonstration of the truth of Christianity, or as illustrating the power of divine grace, it is deserving of most deep meditation. So sudden a transformation of character as this narrative presents must surely be acknowledged to deserve a thorough investigation by all who conceive the principles of human conduct a proper object of attention and inquiry. It is surely natural to look into the cause of such a change, as well as to consider the ellects which it produced, and the issue to which it tended. Every Christian is so well acquainted with the sufferings and labours ON THE CONVERSION OF ST. PAUL. 79 of this chief of the apostles, and has contracted so sacred a friendship with the name of Paul, that the circumstances which led to so great a revolution in his character cannot fail to be interesting. Let us then, in dependence on Divine assistance, take a review of the most striking particulars of this transaction, and endeavour to raise such reflections as the subject may naturally suggest. I. Let us consider his previous character and conduct, and the actual state of his mind immediately before the change took place. L Of the incidents of his early life we are not furnished with very full and distinct information. We learn that he was a native of Tarsus in Cilicia, a city famous for its schools of philosophy, as well as for having given birth to some of the most eminent philosophers. His extraction, both on the side of his father and mother, was purely Jewish ; but, owing to some benefit conferred on his ancestors he was entitled by his birth to the privileges of a Roman citizen. His educa- tion was learned ; for he was born at Tarsus, and spent his first years there. He came at an early period to Jerusalem, and was brought up at the feet of Gamaliel, a member of the Sanhedrim, and a celebrated doctor of the law. This was that Gamaliel who, by his temperate and judicious advice, restrained the violence of the Jewish council, who were determined to put Peter and John to death. His young disciple, Saul, seems to have imbibed nothing of his moderation, but to have been uniformly instigated by a most implacable fury against the Christian cause. From his earliest youth he was of the "strictest sect of the Pharisees," who were not satisfied with complying with every punctilio of the Mosaic law, but adopted amulthude of traditions and ceremonies of human invention, which they placed on the same footing, and deemed equally certain. In common with the greater part of his countrymen, he held the perpetual and eternal obligation of the Mosaic law, and depended on his legal performances entirely for salvation. Though the sacrifices ordained under the law point^ to the atonement of Jesus Christ,- he overlooked this reference ; and, full of a confidence in his owiv rectitude, abhorred and disdained the idea of being indebted for salvation to a crucified Messiah. The poverty and meanness of Christ was an offence to his proud and haughty spirit ; and the cross, which he endured for the expiation of sin, was a stumbling-block. He believed, no doubt, in a Messiah ; but the person he expected under that charac- ter was a great and victorious prince, invested with secular pomp and glory : who was to break asunder the Roman yoke, and raise the Jews to the pinnacle of human greatness : and therefore, when he observed that Jesus was so far from accomplishing these hopes that he died the death of the meanest malefactor, he regarded him as a mean and de- testable impostor. When he heard the apostles testify his resurrec- tion, assure him that he was exalted at the right-hand of God, and that salvation and the remission of sins were to be sought solely through his blood, his prejudices rose to the utmost violence ; and he resented a doctrine which he considered as offering an insult to the whole Jewish nation. As he was taught to look upon the Jews as the 80 ON THE CONVERSION OF ST. PAUL. distinguished favourites of the Most High, while he considered the gentiles as reprobate and accursed ; he abhorred the thought of that new doctrine which threatened to break down the " wall of partition," and to admit gentiles and Jews to participate in the same privileges. He knew that the apostles were wont to denounce the judgments of God on the Jewish nation, for llieir rejection of Christ ; and though they would naturally maintain a prudent reserve on the subject of their approaching calamities as a nation, they must have been well aware, from several of our Lord's parables, and particularly from his last prophecy, that the time was approaching when the temple at Jerusalem would be destroyed, its services abolished, the holy city trodden under foot, and the Jewish people be carried captive into all nations. It was some intimation of this kind in the discourses of Stephen which gave birth to the accusation — "We have heard him speak blasphemous words against Moses, and against God." They set up false witnesses, which said, " This man ceaseth not to speak blasphemous words against this holy place and the law : for we have heard him say, that this Jesus of Nazareth shall destroy this place, and shall change the customs which Moses delivered us." Under these impressions, Saul looked upon the Christian sect as directly opposed to the dignity and perpetuity of the temple, the Mosaic law, and all the ceremonies and privdeges by which the descendants of Abraham were distinguished from pagan nations. All the prejudices of education, all the pride of a Jew, and the self- righteousness of a Pharisee conspired with the violence of youth and eager ambition to acquire the esteem of his superiors, and hurried him to the utmost excesses in opposing the cause of Christ. He seems to have devoted his life to one object, — the utter extirpation, if possible, of the Christian name. When Stephen was stoned, he was consenting to, or rather felt a pleasure in his death ; and so zealous did he appear on this occasion, that the witnesses laid down their clothes at his feet while they engaged in this work of blood. The death of Stephen was a signal of a general persecution, in which Saul appears to have taken a very active part : " As for Saul, he made great havoc of the church," saith St. Luke, " entering into every house, and haling men and women, committed them to prison.""^ Having received a commis- sion from the higli-priest, he went on the same errand to Damascus ; that if he found there any " of the same way" he might bring them bound to Jerusalem. During his journey he was revolving with delight the confusion and misery he should produce among the defenceless followers of Christ ; and when he drew near enough to Damascus to take a view of the city, he no dou!)t exulted at the idea of being so near his prey. He feasted in the prospect of scattering the sheep of Christ, of dissolving their assemblies, and inflicting upon them the severest sufl'erings his malice could devise : " he breathed out threat- enings and slaughter."! Little did he think of the change he was about to undergo ; — little did he [anticipate] that astonishing scene of things * Acts via. 3. t Acts ix. 1. ON THE CONVERSION OF ST. PAUL. gl which was about to be laid open to his view. He had hitherto confined his persecutions to Jerusalem and its immediate environs : he had now procured a more enlarged commission, which extended to a remote city. Damascus was nearly two hundred miles distant from Jerusa- lem. [It was in Syria; and was at that time under the dominion of Aretas, king of Arabia Petraea, a prince tributary to the Roman empire : under him was a governor who] permitted the interference of the Sanhedrim with the synagogues, [and greatly favoured those that persecuted the disciples of Christ.*] We cannot conceive a state of mind more unfavourable to Christianity, or less likely to issue in a cordial subjection to Christ, than that of which Saul was possessed at that moment. During a long journey, no misgivings of mind, no emotions of pity towards the innocent objects of his resentment, nor the smallest hesitation respecting the propriety and rectitude of his proceedings, appear to have been felt. Notwithstanding this, he was suddenly stopped in his career, and effectually diverted from his purposes. The means by which this was accomplished, the inspired historian distinctly relates. He was a " chosen vessel,"! and he was " separated from his mother's womb.";{: The moment was arrived in which the gracious designs of God were to unfold themselves. But with what awful majesty is God pleased to attemper the dispensations of his grace towards guilty men ! When he is pleased to show mercy, it is in a manner worthy of himself, in a manner most adapted to stain the pride of man, and to cause " that no- flesh should glory in his presence." If the God with whom we have to do appears great and awful in the revelation of his mercy, what will he be in the execution of his justice on the finally impenitent 1 Hitherto we have witnessed the dominance of pride, bigotry, and passion, suffered to operate without coiurol ; we are now to contem- plate the interposition of Divine grace in abasing that pride, dispelling that prejudice, allaying tlie tumult of that passion. We shall see, in the instance before us, what methods the Lord Jesus adopted, more fully to apprehend the fugitive and the rebel ; to soften his heart, and make him become a willing captive at his feet : "And as he journeyed he came near Damascus : and suddenly there shone round about him a light from heaven ; and he fell to the earth, and heard a voice saying unto him, Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me? And he said, Who art thou. Lord ? And he said, I am Jesus whom thou persecutest : it is hard for thee to kick against the pricks. "i^ In his speech before Agrippa, St. Paul relates the circumstance of the light shining round him, in the following manner : " At midday, O king, I saw in the way a light from heaven, above the brightness of the sun, shining round about me and them that journeyed with me." This light was not indebted to a surrounding obscurity for any part of its lustre : on tlie contrary, it shone forth at midday with a splendour * See 2 Cor. xi. 32 ; and Joseph, de Bell. Jud. lib. ii. cap. 25. The Romans, says Grotius, allowed the Jews the privjlese of " appretieniiing and beating," not only with regard to the Jews of Pales- tine, but also out of Piilestine, wherever there were synagogues that acknowledged the jurisdiction of the Sanhedrim in matters of religion.— Ed. t Acts IX. 15. i Gal. i. 15. (, Acts i.x. 3-5. Vol. III.— F 82 ON THE CONVERSION OF ST. PAUL. that eclipsed the beams of a meridian sun. It was the light of [divine] glory which Saul beheld on this occasion ; that light unapproachalile in which Jesus Christ continually dwells. It was of the same nature as that which St. John describes in his vision, when he says, " His countenance was as the sun shining in his strength." It was that light in which he will appear when he comes to judge the world, " and every eye shall see him." Much as the prophets and apostles have said of the glory of Christ, it is impossible for us to form an adequate conception of it : the full revelation of it is reserved for a future state, when, if we are true Chyistians, " we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is."* How short is the transition between this and the unseen world ! — • How soon, when God pleases, can he transport his creatures into higher scenes of existence ! It is but for him to draw aside the veil, and objects are presented to the view, compared to which whatever is most admired on earth is mean and contemptible. Every moment we stand upon the confines of an eternal state, and, without dissolving the connexion between soul and body, God can open a passage into the " heaven of heavens." Why should we doubt of good men's being admitted into the more immediate presence of Christ at death, when we consider what Saul was permitted to see and hear before he was finally removed from this world ? St. Stephen beheld the heavens opea, and the Son of man standing at the right-hand of God ; and Saul, in the transaction before us, was permitted to see that Just One, and to hear the words of his mouth. Along with the light a voice was heard, saying, " Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me 1 And he said. Who ai't thou, Lord ? And he said, I am Jesus whom thou persecutest." This solemn question is replete with instruction. He does not con- descend to reason with Saul ; he enters into no vindication of his cause : with the dignity suited to his character, he expostulates and warns. It deserves our attention, that he identifies himself with his disciples ; he makes their cause entirely his own, and considers what is done against them as against himself: " Why persecutest thou me?" Christ and believers, notwithstanding the immense disparity of their circum- stances, are one. He is touched with a feeling of their sufferings ; and whatever insults or reproaches are oflered to them for his name's sake, he feels and resents as done to himself. Let those who are tempted to insult and despise the followers of Christ on account of their con- scientious adherence to him, remember that their scofli's and insults reach higher than they may apprehend ; they will be considered as falling on their Sovereign and their Judge. Personal injuries it is impossible now to ofler to the Saviour ; but the state of our hearts towards him will be judged by our treatment of his followers : and he has warned us, that it were better a " millstone were hanged round our neck, and we buried in the depths of the sea, than that we should injure one of these little ones who believe on him."t In answer to the inquiry, " Who art thou. Lord ?" he replies, " I am Jesus, whom thou persecutest." You will observe, he does not style * 1 John iii. 2. j Matt, xviii. 6. ON THE CONVERSION OF ST. PAUL. gS himself here the Christ, or the Son of God — " I am Jesus of Nazareth." Jesus was the proper name of our Lord, a common appellation among the Jews, and the addition of Nazareth had usually been made as expressive of contempt. In contempt, He was usually styled " the Nazarene." Our Lord was determined to confound Paul by the meanest of his appellations, and resolved to efface the ignominy attached to this appellation, and to cause himself to be adored by Saul under the very names by which he had been most vilified and con- temned. "It is hard," he adds, "for thee to kick against the pricks." He compares Paul to the bullock unaccustomed to the yoke, who, in order to free himself, wounds himself by kicking against the goads. Thus fruitless is all opposition to the cause of Christ. It will be injurious, it will be destructive to ourselves if not desisted from, but can never eventually injure the cause against which it is directed. The heathen may rage, and yet " the Lord hath set his King upon his holy hill of Zion,"* and there he will for ever continue to sit. To all who oppose him he will prove a burdensome stone, " a stone of stumbling and a rock of offence."! " Whosoever shall fall upon it shall be broken ; but on whomsoever it shall fall, it will grind him to powder."! To those who judge by the eyes of flesh, persecuting the servants of Christ may possibly appear a very easy task ; but to those who remember who is engaged to be their Protector it will appear in a very different light — it will appear tlie most dangerous employment in which they can be engaged. The time will come, my brethren, when we shall perceive we might as safely have insulted the prince upon his throne as persecuted Christ in the person of the meanest of his members. " It is hard for thee to kick against the pricks." How many Pontius Pilates and Herods, in different ages, has this crime doomed to destruc- tion ! We may trace the effects of it in the astonishing scenes that are now passing in the world. We may behold it in the subversion of thrones, and the misery and desolation of kingdoms. For though the immediate instrument employed in inflicting these calamities is the insatiable ambition of an individual, they must in general be traced to higher sources — the unrepented crime of persecution. Who that reads the prophecies but sees that it is the weight of Christian blood — the blood of the martyrs of Jesus, that now presses and weighs down the nations of the continent, and makes them reel and stagger like a drunken man: " They have shed the blood of saints and of prophets, and the Lord has given them blood to drink, for they are worthy."^ Let us guard against whatever approaches to this crime. If you wUl not walk in the ways of religion yourself — if you will not take the yoke of Christ upon you, at least be careful to abstain from vilifying and reproaching his servants. Respect tlie piety you are not disposed to imitate. " What wilt thou have me to do ?" He makes no stipulation ; his surrender of himself is absolute ; the words he utters are expressive * Psalm ii. 6. t Isaiah viii. 14. X Euk» xx. 18. vj Rev. xvi. 6. F2 84 THE LAMB SLAIN THE OBJECT OF of absolute submission. Such a surrender of ourselves into the hands of Christ, such a submission from us [also] is absolutely necessary. He is directed what to do, and he complies punctually with the direction. " He was not disobedient to the heavenly vision."* For a further account of our Saviour's address, see Acts xxvi. 16-18. . He was blinded by the light. (Acts xxii. 11.) He gave himself up to solitude and prayer. He would doubtless reflect on the following things : — 1. On what he had seen. 2. On what he had done. 3. On what lay before him. XV. THE LAMB SLAIN THE OBJECT OF RAPTURE TO THE HEAVENLY HOSTS. Rev. v. 6. — And I beheld, and lo, in the midst of the throne and of the four beasts, and in the midst of the ciders, stood a Lamb as it had been slain. In the preceding chapter John is presented with a magnificent vision : a door is opened in heaven, through which he passes, and beholds the throne of God, and the Almighty sitting upon it. The several orders of creatures which make their appearance there celebrate a solemn act of worship to him " which was, and which is, and which is to come, saying, 'J'hou art worthy, O Lord, to receive glory, and honour, and power ; for thou hast created all things, and for thy pleasure they are and were created."! As the holy apostle was now "on the point of being instructed in those mysteries of Providence whose accomplishment was to reach from the time of this vision to the consummation of all things, involving the remotest destinies of the church and of the world, so the manner in which it is imparted is such as must give us the highest idea of its importance. It formed the contents of a roll of a book in the hand of him that sat on the throne, " written within and on the backside, and sealed with seven seals. "J The whole universe is challenged to fur- nish one who is capable of loosing these seals and exploring its contents. "And I saw a strong angel proclaiming with a loud voice, AVIio is worthy to oj)en the book, and to loose the seals thereof? And no man in heaven, nor in earih, neither under the earth, was able to open the book, neitlier to look thereon. "§ The apostle, whose mind was inflamed with solicitude to be made acquainted with these mysteries, wept much at finding there was none • Acts xxvi. 19. t Rev. iv. 8, 10, U. j Rev. v. 1. $ Rev. v. 2, 3. RAPTURE TO THE HEAVENLY HOSTS. 85 worthy to loose the seals and to open the book. And one of the elders said unto him, " Weep not : behold, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, hath prevailed to open the book, and to loose the seven seals thereof." Under this emblem Jesus Christ is represented, alluding to the prophetic benediction of the patriarch Jacob — "Judah is a lion's whelp: from the prey, my son, thou art gone up : he stooped down, he couched as a lion, and as an old lion ; who shall rouse him up 1 The sceptre," he adds, " shall not depart from Judah, nor a lawgiver from between his feet, until Shiloh come."* Judah was the regal tribe, and famous for its warlike exploits ; distinguished by a succession of illustrious princes and conquerors, the descendants of David, who were at most but the forerunners and representatives of an incomparably greater personage, the Son of God, who, after he had vanquished the powers of darkness, was to be invested with an everlasting dominion, that all nations, tongues, and people should serve him. While John was expecting to see some majestic appearance, he beheld, and lo, a Lamb with the marks of recent slaughter presented himself before the throne, and he came and took the book out of the right hand of him that sat on it : upon wliich the several orders of creatures " fell down before the Lamb, having every one of them harps, and golden vials full of odours, which are the prayers of the saints. And they sung a new song, saying, Thou art worthy to take the book and to open the seals thereof; for thou wast slain, and hast redeemed us to God by thy blood, out of every kindred, and tongue, and people, and nation, and hast made us unto our God kings and priests; and we shall reign on the earth. "t Emblems of weakness, of innocence, and of suflering made part in a scene where [we might] suppose nothing to enter but immingled gran- deur. Nor are the sufferings of Jesus Christ in our nature merely indis- tinctly introduced ; they are the principal objects presented to the view ; they are made the basis of that wonderful act of adoration in which every creature in the universe unites. The portion of Scripture which I have selected for our present improvement, thus introduced, suggests the two following important observations. L That the distinguishing merit of Christ arises from his having redeemed us to God by his blood. IL That this part of his character engages the attention and the adoration of the heavenly world. L That which distinguishes the character of Christ from all other beings is his condescension for the salvation of men. \. The Scriptures uniformly teach us to look upon the death of Christ in a light totally distinct from ihat of any other person. Con- sidered in itself it is not at all extraordinary, for in every age we find examples of those who have sealed the divine truth with their blood. We learn from the New Testament that such was the end of Stephen, of James, of Paul, and of Peter. It is one of those trials which Jesus warned his disciples to expect, insomuch that to be prepared at his * Gen. xlix. 9, ]0. | Rev. v. 8-10. 86 THE LAMB SLAIN THE OBJECT OF call to surrender their lives was an inseparable condition of becoming his followers. But to none of their sufferings were such purposes assigned, such effects ascribed, as are uniformly ascribed to the suffer- ings of the Saviour. " Precious," indeed, " in the eyes of the Lord is the death of his saints," but it is never represented as having the remotest connexion with the remission of sins. They are never represented as set forth for a propitiation. Where is the death of Peter or of Paul spoken of in such language as this : — " He who knew no sin was made sin for us, that we might become the righteousness of God through him :"* — " He laid on him the iniquity of us all ; the chastisement of our peace was upon him, and by his stripes we were healed ;"t — " He was deliv- ered for our offences, and rose again for our justification ;"J — not to mention innumerable other passages equally clear and decisive ? What language that bears the least resemblance to this is applied to any other subject? The great apostle speaks of Christ's dying beha^ viour as a part of his character which was altogether inimitable : " Was Paul crucified for you 1 or were ve baptized in the name of Paul ?"^ 2. Accordingly, the inspired writers never mention the death of Christ without emotions of devout rapture. The prayer of Paul for his Christian converts was, that they might " know the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge. "|| It is the grand argument which they employ to enforce the obligation of Christians to love each other, " even as Christ also hath loved us, and given himself for us, an offer- ing and a sacrifice of a sweet-smelling savour."ir " Herein is love," Jolm exclaims, " not that we loved him, but that he loved us, and gave himself for us."** This love was the motive which, with a sweet but irresistible violence, impelled them to devote themselves entirely to his service. " The love of Christ constraincth us ; because we thus judge, that if Christ died for all, then were all dead : and he died, that they who live should not henceforth live to themselves, but to him who died for tliem."tt As the morality of tlie gospel is distinguished from that of the world by being founded in love ; so the devout contemplation of the love of Christ is the grand principle which kindles and inflames it. 3. When the great Ruler of the world was pleased to accomplish his secret purpose of reconciling tlie sinful race of man to himself, by the pardon of their sins and the renewal of their natures, he saw fit to appoint his Son to be their surety, to assume their nature, and to die in their stead : " Great is the mystery of godliness ; God manifest in the flesh. "II Instead of endeavouring to explore all the secret reasons of this wonderful economy, it rather becomes us thankfully to accept, and devout!)^ to adore it. It is sufficient for us to perceive, that no method within our comprehension could have equally provided for the display, at once, of his justice and of his mercy ; his spotless purity, and his infinite compassion. In making his Son the sacrifice, justice * 2 Cor. V. 21. t Isaiah liii. 5, 6. t Rom. Iv. 25. ^ 1 Cor. i. 13. II Eplies. iii. 19. TT Ephcs. v. 2. *• 1 John IV. 10. It 2 Cor. v. 14, 15. U 1 I'm. iu. 16. RAPTURE TO THE HEAVENLY HOSTS. 87 appears in its utmost splendour ; while, in freely " giving him up for us all," mercy appears in its most attractive form. The highest lessons of purity and holiness are learned at the foot of the cross ; and if we are desirous of discovering an effectual antidote to the love of sin, it must be the serious and steady contemplation, b}- faith, of Christ crucified. 4. Salvation through the blood of the Redeemer, though it forms the distinguishing feature of the Christian system, was not peculiar to h. It entered into every dispensation of religion communicated by God. A multitude of types and figures were employed, to shadow forth the great expiatory sacrifice, previous to his manifestation in the flesh. He was the Paschal Lamb whose " blood, sprinkled on the posts and lintels of the doors,"* secured the families of Israel from the destroying angel, in the night when God slew the first-born of Egypt : " Christ, our Passover, was sacrificed for us."t He was prefigured by all those burnt-oflerings which were daily offered in the temple, and especially on the day of annual atonement, when the blood of the victim was carried by the high-priest into the holy of holies. The goat that was slain on that occasion, and whose blood was presented before the mercy-seat, prefigured the vicarious death of Christ, and his entrance into heaven ; the other, called the scape-goat, which, after having the sins of the congregation^ « * » * * #****♦*# II. This part of our Saviour's character engages the attention and adoration of the heavenly world. 1. They adore this matchless display of love in his condescending to become man, to endure reproaches and sufferings, and at length to expire on the cross, to rescue the guilty from ruin. These benevolent spirits are not unaccustomed to perform kind offices for men : they oi'ten appeared under the ancient economy in visible form, to warn, to instruct, and to comfort ; so they are still " ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of sidvation."'^ But nothing which they ever performed bore any resemblance to the incar- nation and sufferings of Jesus Christ. On no other occasion did love ever stoop so low, endure so much, or operate in so free and spontaneous a manner. He who assumed nothing in making himself equal with God "took upon him the form, of a servant, and became obedient to death, even the death of the cross."!! I'^ his mj'sterious descent, he passed by superior orders of being, to invest himself with human flesh. He who was the " Won- derful, the Counsellor, the mighty Ood, the everlasting Father," condescended to become the " Son given," and the " child born." And never was humiliation so deep, never was there reproach and infamy so extreme as that which he endured. Loaded with the most shameful appellations, and persecuted throughout the whole of his life, in its last scenes he was arraigned before Pontius Pilate, smitten on * Exod. xii. 7, 13. t I Cor. v. 7. | Lev. xvi. 2, 20-34. Heb. ix. 7-15. $ Ueb. i. 14. II Phil. ii. 7, 8. 88 THE GLORY OF CHRIST'S KINGDOM. the face, derided, clothed with mock robes, buffeted, scourged, spit upon. Never were there such indignities heaped on any head as on that which was destmed to wear many crowns. And for his sufferings ! — who can contemplate that hour of darkness in the garden of Gethsemane, when his soul was overwhehned with amazement and horror, or behold his Hngering torments on the cross, without being appalled ? It is a trial to human fortitude to be obliged merely to think of what he actually endured. And for whom? For the sinners of Jerusalem! for many of that infatuated multitude who were impatient for his crucifixion : for some, there is reason to believe, who were employed in nailing him to the cross ! for a Saul, who was " breathing out threatenings and slaugh- t<^r" against his followers : for millions of proud and daring offenders, whom this unparalleled love was to soften and disarm ! 2. They contemplate and adore in the death of Christ a new dis- play of the divine perfections. The wisdom and the power of God .are every way manifest. His goodness may be traced in innumerable portions of his works. He had displayed his justice in the punishment of fallen angels, M'ho wei-e reserved in chains of darkness against the judgment of the great day. But there remained a new view of the divine character. God was pleased to present himself in a new light to the adoration of his creatures. He was pleased to show, in the -same transaction, the most determined hatred to sin, with the utmost compassion to the sinner ; the most inflexible adherence to rectitude, with the utmost riches of grace to the undeserving; — "a just God, yet a Saviour." He resolved to exhibit in the person of his Son a new spectacle to the universe: a person the most majestic, and the most humble; the most powerful, and the most compassionate; an authoriiy which should subdue to itself " all principality;" — a Saviour wlo should " feed his flock like a shepherd ;" — " the Lion of the tribe of Judah," and " the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world." 3. They rejoiced at the immense accession of happiness which they perceived to flow from the death of Jesus Christ. (1.) How safe is the worship of Christ ! (2.) How necessary to inquire how we stand affected towards the Saviour ! (3.) How much the supreme love of Clirist, and an humble afiiance in his merhs, tends to prepare for the happiness of heaven ! XVI. THE GLORY OF CHRIST'S KINGDOM. Psalm cxlv. 11. — They shall speak of the glory of thy kingdom. The absolute dominion of God, as the universal Proprietor and Lord, is an object which deserves most devoutly to be celebrated. It is, in THE GLORY OF CHRIST'S KINGDOM. 89 fact, the frequent theme of the praises dictated under the inspiration of the Spirit in the sacred oracles. But there is another of the dominions of God, considered in relation to his saints, — an empire of knowledge and of love, whose administration is intrusted to his Son, — which is celebrated in still sublimer strains, and forms the principal theme of the New Testament. This is emphatically denominated the kingdom of heaven, or that kingdom which the God of heaven should set up, given to " the saints of the Most High," which is to be of everlasting duration, and never to be succeeded by another. Whether the Psalm before us is intended to describe this species of rule and authority, in distinction from the other, I shall not undertake to determine ; but as these divine compositions are unquestionably frequently employed in portraying the kingdom of Christ, or the Messiah, it is hoped it will not be deemed improper to consider the words in that light. Let us direct our thoughts, then, for a short season, to the glory of the kingdom of Christ. With this [view], it may be proper to reflect on the following particulars.: — I. The glory of it is manifest in its origin and the method by which it was acquired. It had its origin in ineffable mercy, under the direc- tion of perfect wisdom and rectitude. It occupied the thoughts, and was the object of the counsels of the Eternal, before the heavens were stretched out, or the foundation of the earth was laid. It formed the centre of the divine designs, and the ultimate point to which every other purpose of God was directed. As it was designed to be die spiritual reign of God over the mind, and at the same time to be a [unanimous, harmonious] kingdom, in which the sovereign and the sub- jects are always understood to be of the same nature, it was necessary in order to its establishment that God should become incarnate ; it was necessary, not only for the redemption of his church, but also for the purpose of their being governed as they were intended to be governed. Ere the government could be placed " on his shoulder,"* it was necessary for the Messiah to be " a child born and a son given." Again, since in this kingdom the " tabernacle of God" was to^ be " with men," and he was to " dwell among them,"t and such a con- descension of mercy would have been utterly unbecoming " the blessed and only Potentate,"^ without a signal reparation to the divine honour tarnished by rebellion, it was requisite a sacrifice for sin should be made, worthy of the occasion, which could nowhere be procured but by " the offering of the body of Christ, once for all."^ The inefficiency of the typical sacrifices under the law proclaimed the necessity of one of intrinsic validity and infinite value. Thus the foundation of this empire was laid in the incarnation and atonement of the Son of God ; and the solidity and extent of its foundations, great as they are, are but proportioned to the majesty and duration of the edifice. " Every battle of the warrior," sa3's the prophet Isaiah, " is with con- fused noise, and with garments rolled in blood ; but this shall be with burning and fuel of fire."|| The kingdom of which we speak is * Isaiah ix. 6. t Rev. xxi. 3. t 1 Tim. vi. 15. ^ Heb. X. 10. II Isaiah ix. 5. 90 THE GLORY OF CHRIST'S KINGDOM. aoquiredby conquest, but of a nature totally tJifferent from military con- quest. The weapons employed in achieving it are purely spiritual — the burning of conviction, the light of truth, the fire of love. The simple tesiiniony of Christ, the publication of the gospel by the " fool- ishness of preaching," have produced tlie most wonderful changes in the world, far beyond those which have been eflected by violence or the sword. Before these simple but efficacious histniments, the powers of darkness have been overcome ; " Satan has fallen like lightning from heaven ;"* temples have been overturned, oracles have been struck dumb, the arm of persecuting power has been withered ; and men have, in every part of the world, passed through chains, and racks, and fires into the kingdom of God. Heavenly truth, love, and wisdom have grappled with all the powers of falsehood and sophistry, com- bined with all the blandishments and terrors of the world, and have gained decisive victory. From the smallest beginnings, and by the most contemptible instruments, to human appearance, the gospel, by " commending itself to every man's conscience in the sight of God,"t hath triumphed over all opposition, and is still going forth " conquering, and to conquer."! It is thus ihe Spirit of God addresses the Messiah, in portraying his success in the establishing of his empire : " Gird thy sword upon thy thigh, O Most Mighty, with thy glory and thy majesty. And in thy majesty ride prosperously, because of truth, and meekness, and righteousness ; and thy right hand shall teach thee terrible things. Thine arrows are sharp in the heart of the king's enemies ; whereby the people fall under thee."^ Truth, meekness, and righteousness are the weapons of his warfare, and the rod of his strength. They " shall be willing in the day of thy power ;" they are a conquered, yet a willing people ; they submit to his power, but cheerfully and gladly embrace his sceptre : their will itself is so changed, their hearts so touched, tliat they become " like the chariots of Ammi-nadib."|| Other potentates extend their empire by force, and by imposing their yoke on reluctant necks ; Jesus Christ by love, and by exhibiting a matchless example of condescension and [mercy.] 2. The glory of this kingdom is conspicuous in the principles by •which it is administered. Of this Prince it is truly said, " Righteous- ness shall be the girdle of his loins, and faithfulness the girdle of his reins. He shall not judge after the sight of his eyes, nor reprove after the hearing of his ears : but with righteousness shall he judge the poor, and reprove with equity for the meek of the earth. "F The sceptre of his dominion is grace t grace displayed in the gospel, grace communicated by the Spirit, is the grand instrument of maintaining his empire. He reveals his glory and imparts his benefits, and thereby attaches his subjects by ties at once the most forcible and the most engaging. A lovely assemblage of qualities characterizes the spirit and genius of his divine administration ; an incomparable majesty, united to a most ♦ Luke X. 18. t 2 Cor. iv. 8. } Rev. vi. 2. $ Psalm xlv. 3-5. || Cant. vi. 12. TI Isaiah xi. 3-5. THE GLORY OF CHRIST'S KINGDOM. 91 endearing condescension — a spirit of benignity, joined to impartial jus- tice, distinguishes his conduct. Though the subjects of this kingdom are admitted to it on no other condition than a cordial approbation of the character of the Prince, they are not left lawless or uncontrolled : the revelation of the divine will is imparted ; the most perfect measure of ho- liness and rules of conduct are enjoined on the conscience and impressed on the heart. This administration exhibits throughout a beautiful model of the moral government of God, attempered to the state of creatures who have fallen from their original recthude, but are under a dispen- sation of mercy. A system of paternal justice is carried into execu- tion throughout this empire ; in consequence of which the disobedient ai-e punished, that they may not be condemned with the world. The gradations of favours are regulated by the Sovereign with the most impartial justice; and future rewards distributed [with exquisite pro- priety and rectitude.] Human administrations extend only to outward actions, and are conducted entirely by external and visible instruments. Were we not united to a fleshly fabric, they would be incapable of reaching us ; so that they extend more properly to the bodies than to the souls of men. The dominion of Christ is chiefly spiritual and internal : the soul is the subject of his authority, where he dwells by faith. It extends to the remotest sentiments of the mind, " casting down high imaginations, and bringing into captivity every thought to the obedience of Christ."* It is not the object of our outward senses ; it is within us, consisting not in " meats and drinks, but in righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost."t The benefits which human governments impart are principally of a negative kind, consisting in the removal of those checks and restraints which the unreasonable passions of men urge them to impose on each other's enjoyments. The utmost that the wisest earthly government can for the most part efi'ect, is to overawe the mischievous, to II. It is glorious with respect to the manner in which it is adminis- tered : " The God of Israel said. The Rock of Israel spake to me. He that ruleth over men must be just, ruling in the fear of God. And he shall be as the light when the sun ariseth, even as a morning with- out clouds ; as the tender grass springeth out of the earth by the clear shining after rain."| The most essential quality in a virtuous administration is justice. This property is most conspicuous in the government of Christ over his people. He confers no benefit upon them but what is compatible with the strictest rectitude, having previously made a sufiicient atone- ment for their transgressions. And in every part of his administration, "righteousness is the girdle of his loins, and faithfulness the girdle of his reins. '"i^ With perfect equity he apportions the degrees of his favour to the xespective measures of their attachment and obedience. ♦ 2 Cor. X. 5. t Rom. xiv. 17. J 2 Sam. xxiii. 3, 4. $ Isa. xi. 5. 92 THE GLORY OF CHRIST'S KINGDOM. He will render to such of his subjects rewards, not properly on account of their works, but " according to their works."* He employs the pure and holy law of God as the invariable rule of their conduct, and shows how to make such a use of its terrors and sanctions as is sub- servient to his gracious designs ; restraining by fear those who are not susceptible of more liberal and generous motives. As it first convinced them of sin, so it is, in his hands, the instrument of such convictions as the measure of their offence may require ; and, by alarming and awakening the conscience, it excites to repentance, vigilance, and prayer: "As many as I love I rebuke," is his language ; "be zealous, therefore, and repent,"t " for I have not found thy works perfect before God."| His dominion is at the same time most gentle, gracious, and benign. Grace, as I have said, is the sceptre of his empire ; and that grace is imparted by the Spirit. His reign is indeed " the reign of grace."^ He reveals his glory, he manifests ineffable majesty and beauty, whereby he captivates the hearts of his subjects, and "draws them with the cords of a man, and the bands of love."|| AVith the most tender compassion he " delivers the needy when he crieth, the poor, and him that hath no helper. He spares the poor and the needy, and saves the souls of the needy :"F " When the poor and the needy seek watei-, and there is none, and their tongue faileth for thirst, I the Lord M'ill hear them, I the God of Israel will not forsake them. I will open rivers in high places, and fountains in the midst of the valleys : I will make the wilderness a pool of water, and the dry land springs of M-ater."** In earthly kingdoms the subjects are governed merely by general laws, which are of necessity very imperfectly adapted to the infinite variety of cases that occur. The combinations of human action are too numerous and diversified to be adequately included in any general regulation or enactment; whence has arisen the maxim, '^ Stmimum jus summa injuria,^'' — that a strict adherence to the letter of the law would often be the greatest injustice. But this divine dominion sub- sists under no such imperfections ; for the Prince is intimately ac- quainted with the secrets of the heart. He also pervades every part of his empire by his presence, and can consequently make a specific and personal application to each individual ; can imj)art his smiles and his favours, the expression of his kindness or of his displeasure, to each individual soul, as distinctly as though it were the only subject of his empire. In human government the law extends to outward actions only, but the good and the evil which are produced by it are almost entirely confined to sensible objects — to such objects as bear a relation to our corporeal state. * Matt. xvi. 27. t Rev. iii. 19. t Rev. iii. 2. <5 Rom. v. 21. II Hos. xi. 4. IT Psalm l.xxii. 13. •* Isa. xli. 17, 18. ON SPIRITUAL LEPROSY. 93 XVII. ON SPIRITUAL LEPROSY.* Lev. xiii. 45. — And the leper in whom the plague is, his clothes shall be rent, and his head bare, and he shall put a covering upon his upper lip, and shall cry, Unclean, unclean^ By superficial thinkers it has been objected to several parts of the Mosaic law, that its injunctions are frivolous and minute, and of a nature that ill comports with the majesty and wisdom of the Supreme Being. The exact specification of the different sorts of sacrifice, the enumeration of the different sorts of creatures, clean and unclean, and the various species of ceremonial defilement, have been adduced as examples of this kind. To this it may be replied, that, at this dis- tance of time, we know too little of the superstitions among pagan nations, and consequently of the peculiar temptations to which the ancient Israelites were exposed, to enable us to form an accurate judg- ment respecting the expediency or necessity of those provisions. Many legal enactments which appear unseasonable and unnecessary to a distant observer and a remote age, on close investigation of the actual circumstances in which they were, are discovered to be replete with propriety, and to be founded on the highest reason. But the most satisfactory answer to this, and to most other objections raised against the law of Moses, is derived from a consideration of the peculiar nature of that institute, which was throughout figurative and typical. In the infancy of revealed religion, and when the minds of men were but little accustomed to refined reflection, it became necessary to com- municate moral and religious instruction by actions and observances, and to address their reason through the medium of their senses. The people of Israel, at the time they came out of the land of Egypt, having been long surrounded by idolatry, and in a state of depression and slavery, were a people, we have the utmost reason to believe, of very gross conceptions, deeply sunk in carnality and ignorance ; a nation peculiarly disqualified to receive any lasting impression from didactic discourses, or from any sublime system of instruction. Their minds were in an infantine state ; and divine wisdom was imparted to them, — not in that form which was best in itself, but in that in which they were best able to bear it : and being very much the creatures of sense, religious principles were communicated through the medium of sensible images. Thus they were reminded of the eternal difference between right and wrong, between actions innocent and criminal, by the dis- tinction of animals and meats into clean and unclean. Their attention was called to a reflection on their guilt, on their just desert of destruc- tion, and of the necessity of a real expiation of sin hereafter to be * Preached at Leicester, December, 1810. 94 ON SPIRITUAL LEPROSY. made in the person of the Saviour, by the institution of sacrifices, with- out the shedding of whose blood there was no remission. To convince them of the inherent defilement attached to sin, and of the necessity of being purified from it by a method of God's devising, it was enjoined that several incidents, such as touching a dead body, the disease of leprosy, and some others, should be considered as polluting the person whom they befell ; in consequence of which they were pronounced unclean, and separated from the camp and the tabernacle. In allusion to the ceremonial uncleanness contracted by touching a dead body, St. Paul, that infallible interpreter of the import of the Mosaic law, styles evil dispositions " dead works." — " For if the blood of bulls and of goats, and the ashes of an heifer sprinkling the unclean, sanctifieth to the purifying of the flesh : how much more shall the blood of Christy who through the eternal Spirit offered himself without spot to God, purge your conscience from dead works to serve the living God ?"* To every instance of ceremonial defilement there are two circum- stances attached. 1. The forfeiture of certain privileges, especially that of approaching God in his sanctuary. 2. A representation of the defiling nature of sin. But of all the various sorts of ceremonial uncleanness, there is none which appears to have had so much a typical import as the case of leprosy, which, accordingly, occupies more room in the enactments of the Levitical law than all the others put together ; and is treated of with a niceness of distinction, and a particularity of detail, peculiar to hself. Not less than two very long chapters of this bookf are devoted to the ascertaining of the signs of this disease, and prescribing the methods of legal purification ; so that no one who believes there is any thing whatever of a typical nature in the laws of Moses can doubt of the regulations respecting leprosy being emphatically so. It is my full conviction of this which has induced me to make it the ground of this discourse. If we set ourselves to inquire for what reason the leprosy was selected in the Mosaic ritual as the most eminent representation of moral defilement, we shall perceive there was something very singular in this afi'air. Besides its being fitted for this purpose as it was a very dreadful and loathsome disease, there is the utmost reason to believe it was supernatural. Those who have travelled into eastern countries make mention indeed of a distemper under the name of leprosy ; but there is much room to doubt of its being the same which is treated of in the books of Moses. If you read the rules prescribed there for ascertaining its existence, you will find certain circumstances to which there is nothing parallel in any disease DOW existing in the world : for it attached itself, not only to the bodies of men, but to garments and to houses ; it affected the very stones of buildings, fretting and consuming them.| A considerable part of the laws on this subject respect its subsistence in houses, which in certain * Hcb. Ix. 13, 14. t Lev. xiii. xiv. I Read carefully Lev. xiv. 34-45. Michaelis and others have endeavoured to prove that the leprosy of the Old Testamenl is, in no case, supernatural ; but their reusoninga are, in my judgment, fcr from satisfactory.— Ed. ON SPIRITUAL LEPROSY. 95 cases were ordered to be completely demolished, and the materials cast into an unclean place without the city. It seems to have been inflicted by the immediate hand of God : " When ye be come into the land of Canaan, which I give to you for a possession," the Lord is introduced as saying, " and I put the plague of leprosy in a house of the land of your possession ; and he that owneth the house shall come and tell the priest, saying. It seemeth to me there is as it were a plague in the house."* In various periods of the Old Testament history, we find it inflicted as an immediate judgment of God, as in the case of Moses, Miriam, Gehazi, and Uzziah. After it was cured, it was suftered sometimes to spread again. By this awful visitation the inhabitants of the house were forcibly reminded and admonished of their sins : and is it possible to conceive of a ceremony more adapted to strike a stupid and insensible people with awe ? The typical import of this kind of ceremonial defilement leads us to consider sin in the following lights : — I. As an alarming, dreadful disease, for such the leprosy unquestion- ably was. There are spiritual diseases as well as bodily, and the former much more to be dreaded. These diseases may all be resolved into sin. As the human frame consists, not merely in a number of parts put together in the same place, but of parts vitally united, all with their separate functions and due subserviency to each other, which gives us the idea of a system ; so the mind consists of faculties and powers designed to act under due subordination to each other. Sin disturbs this harmony, confounds this order, and consequently is truly and properly in the mind what disease is in the body. In the Holy Scrip- tures it is compared to the most afflicting disorders ; — to blindness, deafness, lethargy ; and the removal of it is expressed by healing. "Lest at any time they should see with their eyes, and hear with their ears, and should understand with their heart, and should be converted, and I should heal them."t Sin is a fretting leprosy ; it spreads itself throughout all the principles and powers ; and [wherever it spreads imparts its own malignity.] II. It defiles as well as disorders. — Like the leprosy, it is a most loathsome disease ; it is jilthincss of flesh and of spirit. " Cleanse thou me from secret faults. ";{: " Wash me thoroughly from mine iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin."§ III. It cuts off those in whom it prevails from communion with God, both penally and naturally ; that is, by the force of judicial sentence, and by its natural influence. IV. To those who have just apprehensions of it, it will be productive of that sorrowful sense of guilt and unworthiness so forcibly expressed in the words of the text. * Lev. xiv. 34, 35. f Isa. vi. 10. John xii. 40. b X Psalm xix. 12. $ Psalm li. 2. 96 ON SPIRITUAL LEPROSY. XVIII. ON SPIRITUAL LEPROSY.* Let', xiii. 45. — Arid the leper in whom, the plague is, his clothes shall be rent, and his head bare, and he shall put a covering upon his upper lip, and shall cry. Unclean, unclean. In this discourse we propose to make an improvement of the two former, which treated of the spiritual import of the Mosaical law con- cerning lepers. Having shown that the ceremonial defilement incurred by leprosy was designed as a standing representation of the polluting nature of sin, — and the legal method of purification, a type of the manner in which the power and pollution of sin are removed under the gospel, — I shall proceed to attempt applying the whole doctrine to the character and circumstances of my hearers. I. Let the doctrine be improved into an occasion of inquiring whether we are healed, or are yet under the leprosy of sin. When we hear of the ravages of so dreadful a disorder, supposing we give any sort of credit to the report, it is natural to inquire into our own situation, and to consider how far we are in danger of being overtaken with it. During the prevalence of an epidemic disorder, accompanied especially Avith symptoms of danger, prudent men are wont to manifest great solicitude to avoid the places and occasions of infection. In the case before us tliere is ground for much serious inquiry peculiar to itself. The leprosy of sin is not like some other disorders which affect some individuals alone, while others escape ; it is a vmiversal malady, — no child of Adam escapes it ; it attaches to the whole human race ; and the only persons who are not now involved in that calamity are such as are cured, saved, redeemed from among men ; — terms which in their most obvious import imply the former prevalence of disease. The bitter fruits of human apostacy extend to each individual of the human race, as may be sufliciently inferred from the very appellation of Christ, the Saviour of the world, — " he shall be for salvation unto the ends of the earth,"! — as well as from the most express declarations of Scripture respecting the universal prevalence of guilt and corruption, in all instances where it has not been counteracted and controlled by divine grace : " Among whom also we all had our conversation in times past in the lusts of our flesh, fulfilling the desires of the flesh and of the mind ; and were by nature the children of wrath, even as others."! Since this is the case, if you are not now in a state of sin, j'et, as you were so formerly, you have undergone a great change, and must consequently have some recollection of the circumstances attending it ; * Preached at Leicester, December, 1810. t Acts xiii. 47. } Eph. ii. 3 ON SPIRITUAL LEPROSY. 97 and though you may not perhaps be able to specify the precise moment of your conversion, some traces must remain upon your memory of the circumstances connected with an event so replete with important con- sequences. In the course of our discussion on this subject we have observed, that the cure of sin must be preceded by a sense of the malady, by a humiliating conviction of defilement, urging us to cry with the leper, " Unclean, unclean." Did any ever witness in you this appearance of concern for sin, this apprehension of your misery as a guilty creature before God ? Were you ever heard, we will not say to cry out in a public assembly, as did the three thousand that were converted by Peter, but in the most private intercourse with a Christian friend, and inquire what you must do to be saved 1 Are you conscious to yourselves of having ever felt serious and lasting solichude on that head ? Did it ever rest with a weight upon your mind at all proportioned to what you have felt on other occasions of distress ? Was it ever allowed to put a check to your worldly amusements, to your gay diversions, or to the pursuit of any scheme whatever, from which you could promise yourselves profit or pleasure ? We will take occasion, in treating on the subject before us, to observe, that the only method of deliverance from the malady of sin is a devout and humble application to the Lord Jesus ; for he, and he only, " shall save his people from their sins ;"* and now, not less than in the days of his flesh, it is his prerogative to say, " I will, be thou clean."! Supposing you thus to have applied, and to have succeeded in your suit, you must have some remembrance of those solemn transactions between Christ and your soul. You can recall the season when you committed yourselves into the hands of the Redeemer; when, like the leper in the gospel, you fell at his feet, crying, " If thou wilt, thou canst make me clean." Your struggles after the Saviour, your attempts to believe, accompanied witla prayer that he would help your unbelief, and the rest you have found in him after being tossed by the storm, cannot all have passed like the fleeting images of a dream, without leaving some traces in your mind not easily effaced. If you are conscious that nothing of this nature has taken place, if you recollect no such transactions, you may be assured they never took place. Waiving, however, these points of inquiry, and admitting it to be possible that all this may have disappeared from your mind, still, since sin is a universal malady from which none are naturally exempted, if you are now healed, you must be conscious of your being very differ- ent from what you formerly were. Admitting you can give no account of the circumstances or time of your cure, yet you can at least say with him in the gospel, " One thing I know, that whereas I was blind, now I see." Your taste, inclination, and pursuits must have undergone a great alteration ; and whereas you were formerly alienated from God, and took no dehght in him, he is now your avowed and deliberate end, your chosen portion. Whereas you were formerly utterly disin- clined to prayer, it is now your constant practice, and considered as a • Matt. i. 21. t Matt. viii. 3. Vol. III.— G 98 ON SPIRITUAL LEPROSY. high privilege. " Led captive" formerly " by Satan at his will," borne away by the tide of sensual inclination or corrupt example, you now feel yourselves endowed with spiritual power, so as to overcome temptation ; and having the seed of grace remaining, you keep your- selves that so " the wicked one touchelh you not." The Lord Jesus Christ, who appeared to you formerly " like a root out of a dry ground, without any beauty or comeliness in him for which you should desire liim," is now in your eyes " the branch of the Lord, beautiful and glorious ; the fruit of the earth, comely and pleasant." The knowledge of him, instead of being tasteless and insipid, you now find to be of so high and superlative excellence, that you account all things but loss in the comparison ; nay, you esteem them " but dung, that you may win Christ." You feel, it may be, some remains of your ancient distemper ; but you feel, at the same time, that its power is broken, that the prescriptions of your Physician have wrought kindly, and that you are not far off from a complete cure. But if you are conscious of being strangers to all this, you may rest assured your disorder remains in its full force. Nor let any flatter themselves that things are well with them because their external conduct is decent and regular, and they are exempt from the grosser acts of immorality, while they remain alienated from God, forgetful of his presence, unawed by his authority, insensible to his goodness, strangers to his converse. In this alienation lies the very core and essence of sin ; this is the " evil heart of unbelief departing from the living God ;" this is the radical distemper of Avhich the diversified forms of iniq\iity in men's lives are but the symptoms and effects. This aversion to God, this inaptitude to be influenced by considerations and motives derived from his blessed nature and holy will, is the semi- nal principle of all wickedness ; it is the [universal,] the pervading malady which attaches to apostate spirits, as well as to apostate men, and the only one of which disembodied spirits are capable; and which [leagues] the disobedient and rebellious in all parts of the universe ia one grand confederacy against God and goodness. Till this is sub- dued, nothing is in reality done towards tiie recovery of lost souls. " Man looketh on the outward appearance, but God looketh on the heart;"* and in consequence of this that whicli is highly esteemed among men is, not unfrequently, an abomination in his sight. " There is," the Scriptures tell us, " a generation who are pure in their own eyes, but are not washed from their filthiness ;"t and they who value them- selves on the correct exterior of their conduct, while their heart is not turned to God, are precisely that generation. IL The second improvement to which the subject naturally leads is, a reflection on the misery of those who are yet under the power and defilement of sin. Happy should we esteem ourselves, could we impress upon the consciences of such an adequate idea of their misery. " Then said" the prophet " Haggai, If one that is unclean by a dead body touch any of these, shall it be unclean? And the priests answered and said, it shall be unclean. Then answered Haggai, ♦ 1 Sam. xvi. 7 t Prov. xxx. 18. ON SPIRITUAL LEPROSY. 99 and said, So is this people, and so is this nation before me, saith the Lord ; and so is every work of their hands ; and that which they offer tliere is unclean."* To be under the power and pollution of sin is to be odious in the sight of God ; and what inexpressible degradation is comprehended in this idea ! For the eye of God's holiness to be averted from us, to have no share in his complacency, to be in a situation in which his essential attributes are engaged for our destruction, is a conception which, if you come to realize it, is replete with horror. To have " the wrath of God abiding on you" is a calamity which, one would suppose, must drink up your spirit, and completely destroy whatever satisfaction you might naturally derive from other objects. Till this plague is removed, cheerfulness is folly, and laughter is madness. However prosperous your outward condition, however successful your worldly pursuits, however ample your fortune, or elevated your rank, they are no just occasion of joy to you, any more than the garland which decorates the victim prepared for slaughter. " Rejoice not, O Israel, for joy, as other people : for thou hast gone a whoring from thy God."t There are many circumstances calculated to afford a degree of joy ; the blessings so plenteously showered down on the path of life are adapted in themselves to -exhilarate the heart, and to diffuse a ray of cheerfulness over the soul ; but to him that is under the wrath of the Almighty, if ihey afford high gratification, it must be in consequence of his forgetfulness of his true situation. We should pity the insen- sibility of the man who could delight himself with the dainties of a feast, while a sword was suspended over his head by a single hair;| the danger of whose situation is, however, not to be compared with being every moment exposed to " the wratli of God." While you continue in your sins, you have not the shadow of security against overwhelming and hopeless destruction : at any moment, in the midst of your amusements, your business, your repose, whether at home or abroad, in company or in solitude, you are liable to the arrest of jus- tice ; to be cast out into that eternal prison from whence you can never escape " till you have paid the uttermost farthing." The Being that fills with his presence the immensity of space — the Being " in whom you live, and move, and have your being," who can crush you in a moment, and who has engaged to recompense his enemies, and " reward them that hate him," is incensed at you, and laughs at your insensibility, because he knows that your hour is coming. III. The subject before us suggests the strongest motives for an immediate application to the methods of cure. Were sin a tolerable distemper, it might be endured ; were it entirely or in every sense incurable, it must be submitted to. But as things are actually situated, there is no necessity for you to pine away in your iniquities ; for though you cannot recover yourselves by any native unaided power of * Haggai ii. 13, 14, t Hos. ix. 1. + See Horace, lib. lii, carm. I. " Districtus ensis cui super impia Cervice pendet, noii Siculae dapes Duleem elaborabunt saporem." — Ed. G2 100 ON SPIRITUAL LEPROSY. yours, though in this light your [hopelessness] be deep, and your wound incurable, yet there is a method of recovery revealed in the gospel, which millions have tried with success. " There is balm in Gilead, there is a Physician there."* By the discoveries it makes of the placability of the Divine Being, and the actual constitution of a Redeemer, the gospel is essentially a restorative dispensation. " It is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth."t We have observed, in the course of our discussion of the subject, that the evils attached to sin are twofold : guilt, which is a legal obstruction to an approach to God, and renders the sinner liable to eternal death ; and pollution, which disqualifies him for happiness. To the former the blood of the Redeemer, " sprinkled upon the conscience," is a sovereign antidote : " the blood of Christ cleanselh from all sin. "J The great design of his coming into this world was to render that reparation to divine justice for the injury it had sustained by the transgressions of men, which it liad been otherwise impossible to make ; and thus, in consistency with the divine law, to admit repenting sinners to mercy. " Having boldness to enter into the holiest by the blood of .Jesus, by a new and living way, which he hath consecrated for us, through the veil, that is to say, his flesh ; and hav- ing an High-priest over the house of God ; let us draw near."(^ With respect to the power and pollution of sin, its efficacy in retaining the soul in bondage ; this also admits of relief in the gospel. There is a Spirit, we have often occasion to remind you, which can liberate the soul, and diffuse freedom, light, and purity through all its powers. " The Spirit of life in Christ Jesus hath made us free from the law of sin and death."|| " Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty."]^ If you are willing to be made clean, if you sin- cerely implore the savour of Divine grace, it will not long be withheld from you. " He will give his Holy Spirit unto them that ask him."** " If you will turn at his reproof, he will pour out his Spirit unto you, and make known his words unto you. "ft " He is willing to heal your backslidings, to receive you graciously, and love you freely. "JJ If you are so much in love with your distemper, indeed, as to deter- mine, at all events, not to part with it, your case is hopeless ; and nothing remains but for you to die in your sins, under the additional guilt you incur by refusing the remedy which Infinite Wisdom has prepared. At present, God is expostulating with you, in the language of an ancient prophet, " O Jerusalem, wash thine heart from wicked- ness, that tliou mayst be saved. How long shall thy vain thoughts lodge within thee ?"'^'5i " Wo unto thee, O Jerusalem ! wilt thou not he made clean ? when shall it once be ?"|1|1 You have met with many occurrences calculated to bring your sin to your remembrance ; in various respects God has walked contrary to you, and has probably often visited you with severe chastisements. Your bodies have been reduced by sickness, your families visited with * Jer. vill. 2a. t Rom. 1. J6. t 1 John 1. 7. 6 Heb. x. 19-22. II Rom. vill. 2. IT 2 Cor. Hi. 17. •• Lukoxt. 13. ft Prov. 1. 23. Xt Ho«. xiv. 4. 5^ Jer. Iv. 14. |||| Jer. xili. 27. ON COUNTING THE COST. 101 death ; and under some of these strokes you were for a while stunned, and formed some feeble resolution of forsaking your sins, and devoting yourselves to a religious life. But what are the fruits ? No sooner was the first smart of your affliction [abated,] than you returned to your course, and became as inattentive to the concerns of" your soul as ever. God only knows whether he will grant you any more warn- ings ; whether he will wait upon you any longer ; whether he will ever again visit you in mercy ; or whether he will pronounce on you that awful sentence recorded in Ezekiel, — " Because I have purged thee, and thou wast not purged, thou shalt not be purged from thy filthiness any more, till I have caused my fury to rest upon thee. I the Lord have spoken it ; it shall come to pass, and I vvill do it ; I will not go back, neither will I spare, neither will I repent : accord- ing to thy ways and according to thy doings shall they judge thee, saith the Lord God." XIX. ON COUNTING THE COST. LtJKE xiv. 28. — For which of you, intending to build a tower, sittcth not down first, and counteth the cost, whether he have sufficient to finish it 1 Among the many excellences which distinguish the character of our Lord, as the author and founder of a new religion, we perceive, throughout the whole of his conduct, a most transparent simplicity and candour. He disdained, on any occasion, to take advantage of the igno- rance or inexperience of the persons with whom he conversed ; never stooping to the low arts of populanty, nor attempting to swell the number of his followers by a concealment of the truth. He availed himself of no sudden surprise, no momentary enthusiasm arising from the miracles which he wrought, or the benefits which he conferred. The attachment which he sought, and which he valued, was the result of mature conviction, founded on the evidence of his claims, and combined with a distinct foresight of the consequences, near and remote, which would follow from becoming his disciples. Conscious of the solidity of the foundation on which his title to universal and devoted obedience rested, he challenged the strictest scrutiny. Knowing that his promises would more than compensate all the sacrifices he might require, and all the sufferings to which his disciples might be exposed, he was not solicitous to throw a veil over either ; but rather chose to set them in the strongest light, that none might be induced to enlist under his ban- ners but such as were " called, and chosen, and faithful." He felt no desire to be surrounded by a crowd of ignorant and superficial admirers, * Ezek. xxiv. 13, 14. 102 ON COUNTING THE COST. ready to make him a king to-day, and to cry, " Crucify him, crucify him," to-morrow ; but by a band " whose hearts God had touched," prepared, through good and evil report, to follow him to prison and to death. Such, with the exception of one, were his twelve apostles ; such the hundred and twenty disciples who were assembled at Jerusalem after his ascension ; and such the character of those whom he will acknow- ledge as his at a future day. Let me request your serious attention while, in dependence on Divine assistance, we attempt the improvement of this passage, by showing, I. What is the cost attending the Christian profession. II. Why it is necessary to count the cost : and, in. The reasons which ought to determine our adherence to Christ, whatever that cost may be. I. We are to consider the cost of the Christian profession. The cost attending [this profession] relates, either to what it requires us to renounce, or what we are to expect, or the term and duration of the engagement. 1. In order to be the disciples of Christ, there is much that we must instantly renounce. It is a profession of holiness : it therefore demands the immediate renunciation of criminal and forbidden plea- sures. The moment we become Christ's disciples, we commence a warfare with the flesh, engaging for its crucifixion, with all its sinful lusts and appetites. " They that are Christ's have crucified the flesh with its affections and lusts."* To the severities of monastic disci- pline, in which the body is torn by scourges, and emaciated by abstain- ing from the nourislunent required to sustain it in health and vigour, the religion of Christ is a stranger. " For every creature of God is good, if it be received with thanksgiving."! But a soft, voluptuous, •and sensual life is repugnant, not only to the example of Christ, but to the whole genius and spirit of his institutes. By his gospel, and by his Son, God has " called us, not to uncleanness, but to holiness 4 so that he that despiseth the precepts of purity despiseth not man, but God : " This is the will of God, even our sanctification, that every man should know how to possess his vessel in sanctification and honour ; not in the lust of concupiscence, as the gentiles which know not God."<^ However painful the sacrifice of forbidden gratifications may be, however deep and inveterate the habit of indulgence, — though it may seem as necessary to us, and as much a part of ourselves, as the right hand, or the right eye, — relinquished it must be, or we cannot be Christ's disciples. A life of sinful pleasure is not the life of a man, much less is it the life of a Christian : " He that liveth in pleasure" (it is the language of inspiration) " is dead while he liveth."|| Let me urge every one present to count the cost in this particular, and if he is not firmly determined, in the strengtii of divine grace, " to abstain from those fleshly lusts which war against the soul," let him not pollute the name of the holy and immaculate Lamb of God by associating it with ♦ Gal. V. M. t 1 Tim. iv. 4. X\ These, iv. 7. ^ 1 Theas. Iv. 3-3. || 1 Tim. v. 6. ON COUNTING THE COST. 103 his own. Such an association is his abhorrence, which he will testify in a future day ; and he will vindicate his insulted purity by a final renunciation and disclaimer, saying, " Depart from me, ye that work iniquity : I never knew you."* 2. The Christian profession is spiritual, and therefore requires the renunciation of the world. The words of our Lord in this particular are decisive : " So, likewise, whosoever he be of you that forsaketh not all that he hath, cannot be my disciple."! In the interpretation of these words, we must undoubtedly distinguish between the spirit and the letter. In the ordinary circumstances of the Christian pro- fession, a literal compliance with this requirement would lead to per- nicious consequences ; to a relinquishment of the duties proper to our station, and a disorganization of society : but still they have an important meaning. They present the relation of a disciple to the present world in a very solemn and instructive light. They intimate, at the lowest estimate, that the relation he bears to the present state and world, is that of " a stranger and pilgrim ;" that the relation in which it stands to him is that of an entire and absolute subordination to the glory of Christ and the interests of eternity. At the first opening of the gospel dispensation, the sacrifice of all secular advantages, the disruption of the tender ties which connect parents and children, husbands and wives, brothers and sisters, and the dearest friends, was not unfrequently the inevitable consequence of an adherence to Christ. The necessity of literally forsaking all was a usual appendage of the Christian profes- sion. There was therefore a great propriety in placing the engage- ments of a disciple in this strong and forcible light, which, however, prescribe nothing more than what is irrevocably binding on us under similar circumstances. To regard every worldly interest, at all times, with an attachment subordinate to the love of Christ, to treasure up our chief happiness in him, and to be willing to " forsake all" when- ever the following him renders it necessary, are absolutely essential to the becoming his disciples. On this ground, my Christian brethren, let each of us try our reli- gious pretensions. If you wish to carry into the Christian profession the weight of worldly encumbrance, a heart corroded by its passions, and agitated with its cares ; if you are desirous of uniting the service of God and of Mammon, and think of presenting to Christ a few small relics of your time, occupied in the cold formalities of a dead and heartless religion, you cannot be his disciples. The world must be displaced from the throne, or Christ will not, cannot enter ; since he will never condescend to occupy a subordinate place. Alas ! what multitudes are there (there is reason to fear) who are fatally deceived in this particular ; and who, while they form a high estimate of their character as Christians, have not " the Spirit of Christ," and are there- fore " none of his !"| 3. In order to be a disciple, it is necessary, in the concerns of con- science, to renounce every authority but that of Christ. The connexion • Matt. vii. 83. f Luke xiv. 33. J Rom. vui. 9. 104 ON COUNTING THE COST. of a Christian with the Saviour is not merely that. of a disciple with his teacher ; it is the relation of a subject to his prince. " One is your Master, even Christ."* " My sheep hear my voice, and they fol- low me."t In tlie whole course of our lives, if we are indeed his disciples, we shall evince our allegiance by a consn that department of his mind which seems a cabinet for the preservation of what is curious, rather than the reception of that which he has daily occasion to use. The precepts of God occupy much of his thoughts, and engage much of his attention. The knowledge of them is continually revived, the remembrance of them refreshed, by daily mental recol- lections, by reiterated acts of attention, such as it becomes us to exert towards the counsels and ordinances of the Great Eternal. It is thus, and thus only, that knowledge becomes practical aixl influential ; that the light which first pervades the intellect descends into the hearty and diffuses itself through all the faculties of the soul. " And these words,"'said Moses, "which I command thee this day, sl^vall be in thine heart : and thou shalt teach them diligently unto thy children, and shalt talk of them when thou sittest in thine house, and when thou walkest by the way, and when thou liest down, and when thou risest up."* The original word is extremely expressive, — " thou shalt whet them on thy children," [or whet thy children upon them,] in allusion to the practice of giving the necessary edge to certain instruments, by con- tinual friction with hard substance. Thus a good man whets the word of God on his own mind [so as to sharpen it] by successive acts of serious attention, [and thus acquires] an aptitude in applying it to its proper purpose. In the most busy and tumultuous scenes of life, it naturally occurs to his recollections, it instantaneously presents itself to his thoughts; while to the wicked the "judgments of the Lord are far above out of his sight," and it is with great ditficulty that he raises his mind to such high and holy meditations, and, after all, it is a painful and short-lived eflbrt. 3. The good man is impressed w ith a deep sense of the obligation of the law of God, accompanied with a sincere resolution of implicit and unreserved obedience. He is not only acquainted with the rules of duty, he does not merely make them the object of his serious and habitual attention : he acceon this present state as a passage and a pilgrimage, which is deeply wrought into the Christian character, is of itself dn admirable preparation for suffering. The solemn renun- ciation of the world included in this [impression] of the [mind] tends immediately to the same effect. Thus the joys of faith, the consola- tions of the Holy Ghost, raise the soul to a surprising elevation above the storms and trials of life. XXVIIl. ON CHASTISEMENT RESULTING IN PENITENCE. Jer. xxxi. 18. — Thou hast chastised me, and I was chastised, as a bullock unaccustomed to the yoke : turn thoti me, and I shall be turned ,' for thou art the Lord my God. This chapter contains great and gracious promises made to the people of Israel upon the prospect of their true repentance. They are assured, that notwithstanding the severe rebukes of Providence, the ♦ Col. ui.4. RESULTING IN PENITENCE. 143 Lord had mercy in reserve when their afflictions had answered the purpose for which they were appointed, in humbling and reforming them. Before God visits his people with consolation he prepares them for it by inspiring a penitential spirit, well knowing that to indulge them with his smiles while they continue obstinate and unreclaimed would neither comport with his character nor contribute to their good. His benignity and condescension are sufficiently evinced in his "waiting to be gracious;" in the promptitude with which he pardons the humble penitent. He shows himself attentive to the first movement of the contrite heart, agreeable to his declaration in the passage before us, " I have surely heard Ephraim." In these words we have the picture of the inmost feelings of an humble and penitent heart. We behold it in the deepest retii-ement, without the least disguise, pouring itself out before God. In these remarkable words we have an acknowledgment and a prayer. I. These words contain an acknowledgment — " Thou hast chastised me, and I was chastised, as a bullock unaccustomed to the yoke." 1. This expression we conceive to denote the inefficacy of former corrections. In the Septuagint it is rendered, " As a bullock, I was not taught : thou didst chastise me, and I was chastised." This was all ; and no other effect ensued than the uneasy pain which chastise- ment necessarily imparts. Ephraim is represented as conscious that former corrections had answered little purpose. He laments the little improvement he had made, and prays for such an interposition of Divine power and grace as may work an efficient conversion ' " Turn thou me, and I shall be turned." The rebukes of Providence are often represented in the Scriptures in tliis light. — " And ye have forgotten the exhortation which speaketh unto you as unto children. My son, despise not thou the chastening of the Lord, nor faint when thou art rebuked of him : for whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth."* Since afflictive dispensations " spring not from the dust," but are ordained of God, who takes no pleasure in the sufferings of his crea- tures, nor " willingly afflicts the children of men ;"t — since a state of innocence would have included an exemption from every sorrow on the one hand, and the sufferings of life are not for the most part destructive — there is no light in which it is so natural to consider them as chas- tisements ; which are effects of displeasure, but not of a displeasure intended for the destruction of its object, but the amendment. 2. Though corrections are calculated to produce amendment, though such is their tendency and design, it is evident, from observation and experience, they often fail in accomplishing the effect. It is not un- common to see men hardened under rebukes, and to grow more bold and presumptuous in the commission of sin, after having experienced severer trials than before. This melancholy fact is of no recent ob- servation ; it IS frequently described and lamented in the word of God. * Heb. xii. 5, 6. r.am. lii. 33. 144 ON CHASTISEMENT RESULTING IN PENITENCE. " Thou hast stricken them," says Jeremiah, " but they have not grieved } thou hast consumed them, but they have refused to receive correction : they have made their faces harder than a rock ; they have refused to return."* Of the inefficacy of mere external correction we have a striking proof in the conduct of the generations who were conducted from Egypt under the hand of Moses. Never were a people more frequently or more severely corrected, and never did a people [show] themselves more incorrigible. While the remembrance of their sufferings was fresh they seemed disposed in earnest to seek God ; but no sooner did the sense of their calamities wear off, than they relapsed into all their former disobedience and rebellion. " When he slew them then they sought him : and they returned and inquired early after God. And they remembered that God was their rock, and the most high God their redeemer. Nevertheless they did flatter him with their mouth, and they lied unto him with their tongue. "t This is but a picture of what we may observe every day. We see men under afflictive dis- pensations evince a degree of emotion : they appear in some measure humbled and convinced ; and with much apparent sincerity confess their persuasion of the vanity of the world, and of the utter impossi- bility of finding happiness out of the ways of religion. If they are brought to the brink of the grave, and eternity presents itself to their immediate prospect, we find them making the most solemn resolutions, condemning their former course of life, and resolving, if spared, to enter on a new course. The frivolous objects which before engaged their attention seem to have lost their charm, and a flattering prospect is exhibited of their turning into the path of wisdom. From their sub- sequent conduct, however, it is manifest their passions were only laid asleep, while their principles continued unchanged. The influence of the world was suspended, not destroyed. The novelty of their situa- tion put new thoughts into their minds, and awakened fears to which before they had been strangers. But as the whole impression was to be ascribed to circumstances, when these circumstances were changed the mind returned to its former state. Their " goodness was as the morning cloud, and as the early dew which passeth away." The serious impressions they felt during the season of affliction were never followed up. They terminated in no regular attachment to the serious exercises of piety ; or if they were led to pray at all, they were not sufficiently deep and abiding to produce a perseverance in that duty. The recovery of health or the return of prosperity gradually, but speed- ily, effaced every trace of serious feeling, and left them perhaps in a Slate of deeper alienation from God than ever. 3. Ephraim is here represented as reflecting upon it. (Proximate causes of the ineflicacy of correction by itself.) 4. Inattention to the hand of God, and as a natural consequence their neglecting to pass from the contemplation of their sufferings to their sins. Religion begins with consideration. Till they are brought to thorough reflection, no real improvement can be expected. It was a * Jer. V. 3. t Ps- Ixxviii. 34-36. COMFORTS OF CHRISTIANS UNDER TRIALS. 145 frequent complaint with the Messiah, " My people will not consider." "The Lord crieth unto the city, and the man of wisdom shall see thy name : hear ye the rod, and who hath appointed it."* If we consider affliction as springing from the dust, and content ourselves as looking only at secondary causes, or human instruments, no wonder * Men are apt to spare themselves ; to give way to a dangerous pusil- lanimity, by shrinking from reflections which, however useful in their tendency, they find to be painful. They are apt to consider their suf- ferings as expiatory. 5. In the serious purpose of a religious life, formed under afflictive dispensations, too many depend entirely upon resolutions formed in their own strength. To such purposes may be applied the beautiful image of Nahura : "As the great grasshoppers, which camp in the hedges in the cold day, but when the sun ariseth they flee away, and their place is not known."! II. The prayer, — " Turn thou me," [may be] enforced by such argu- ments as these : — 1. The plea of necessity. There is no other resource. It is evi- dent something is wanting, some Divine [agency], which shall produce the effect which external events have failed to [produce], 2. To entreat God to turn is not to ask an impossibility. The resi- due of the Spirit is with him. 3. It is worthy of his interposition. The turning the heart is a fit occasion on which Omnipotence may act. 4. The plea may be enforced by precedents. It implies no depart- ure from his known methods. 5. We may enforce it by a reference to the divine [mei'cy]. XXIX. ON THE COMFORTS OF CHRISTIANS UNDER EITHER WORLDLY OR SPIRITUAL TRIALS. Psalm xciv. 19. — In the multitude of my thoughts within me thy com- forts delight my soul. Let us take a brief survey of the internal thoughts of a distressint^ nature which are apt to arise in the mind of a good man ; and next observe the tendency of the comforts of the gospel to assuage or remove the uneasiness which they have occasioned. I. Let us take a survey of some of the distressing thoughts which are apt to oppress the mind of a good man. They may be considered # Micah vi. 9. -f Nahum iii. 17. ; Preached at Leicester, December, 1815. Vol. III.— K 146 ON THE COMFORTS OF CHRISTIANS as relating to these objects : the state of the world, the state of the church, and his own state as an individual. 1. The state of the world. When a good man surveys the general prevalence of irreligion and impiety, when he considers how few there are comparatively who seek after God, or are moved by any impres- sion of a serious nature, he cannot but be affected. " I beheld the transgressors, and was grieved. Horror hath taken hold upon me because of the wicked that forsake thy law,"* When, again, he con- siders whillier such a course must tend, and in what it will issue, the prospect is still more alarming. It is no want of charity to suspect that the greater part of mankind fall short of the condition of salvation ; it is the very consequence of submission to the authority of revelation. " Wide is the gate and broad is the way that leadeth to destruction, and many there be which go in thereat."! 2. The state of the church. The palpable inconsistency between the lives of numerous professors of religion and the real import of that profession. The many instances of gross immorality which are found in the Christian church, [supply] the subject of much distressing reflec- tion to the sincere follower of Christ. It was to St. Paul : " For many walk, of whom I have told you often, and now tell you even weeping, that they are the enemies of the cross of Christ." The injury sus- tained by the Divine honour, the discredit reflected on the gospel from this quarter, surpasses calculation. The obstructions permitted to present themselves to the propagation of divine truth are of a sinister tendency, and give birth to many a painful reflection in the minds of such as have the interest of Zion at heart. In how many instances is the introduction of saving light pre- vented by the exercise of intolerance, while the most detestable cor- ruption and idolatry are sanctioned and upheld by the same means ? In how many instances have the fairest prospects of good been suddenly blasted by superior power, the faint embers of the true religion almost extinguished, and its possessors exposed to all the severities of per- secution ? Such is the state of the Protestants in France at this moment.| From an authentic statement lately sent me, it appears that they are treated with the utmost cruelty, compelled to quit their habitations, hunted and driven like wild beasts ; infants are torn from their mothers in order to be initiated into the mysteries of anticln-ist ; and in some instances, whole families are massacred. Who can tail to be affected ? So contrary to recent expectation, so ofl^ensively repugnant to the design of Providence and the dictates of prophecy, who can fail to exclaim witli the pious Joshua — " What wilt thou do unto thy great name V " Have the workers of iniquity no knowledge, who eat up my people as they eat bread ?"^ 3. Uneasy thoughts arising from his state as an individual. "Every heart knows his own bitterness, and a stranger intemieddleth not theremth." » Psalm cxix. 158, 53. t Matt. vli. 13. } Sec Note p. 145. ^ Psalm liii. 4. UNDER TRIALS. 147 Here we may briefly [advert to] trials of a worldly and trials of a spiritual nature. (1.) Under the first of these, religion neither demands nor boasts a perfect insensibility. The inspired psalmist displayed a great vicis- situde of feeling, arising from this quarter ; he mourned under the calumny and oppression of his enemies, and gave utterance to cries and tears under his affliction. He felt with agonized poignancy the insults he m(3t with on account of his pious confidence in God : "As with a sword in my bones, while they say daily unto me. Where is thy God ?"* The personal and domestic sufferings of Job are familiar to your recollection, and are penned [that they may] be monuments, to all ages, of the severity with which God sanctities and tries his people, and of the happy and infallible issue. (2.) Uneasy thoughts arise on a spiritual account. With a good man, his spiritual [welfare] is always an object of his first solicitude ; so that when he contemplates the holiness and purity of God, he rannot but have, at times, many a serious inquiry how he shall appear before him. When he surveys his own pollution and guilt, the thought of appearing before God is one upon which he can scarcely dwell without secret trembling : " What if I shall be weighed in the balance and found wanting ?" When we consider our low attainments in reli- gion compared with our opportunities, our latent corruption, and our frequent miscarriages and failures, we are often tempted to call in question the reality of our religion, and to fear that, after all, we are only " almost Christians." If I am truly regenerate, and a child of God, why am 1 thus T Why such a mixture of earthly and sensual afi'ectioiis ? Whence such coldness and deadness in religious exer- cises ? Why so little delight in the Scriptures, — so little complacency ? " My soul cleaveth unto the dust."t (3.) Under desertion, under the hidings of God's countenance, how many painful thoughts arise ! how ready to indulge despondency, and to fear he will never be merciful any more ! (4.) In the prospect before him ; in the contemplation of the dangers and temptations which still await him ; M'hile he feels in him- self nothing but frailty and weakness, how apt is he to apprehend some fatal overthrow ! It seems almost too much for him to expect to be more than conqueror ; that he shall be able to make his way through such a host of enemies, and pass into the celestial city. He seems to feel himself totally devoid of that spiritual strength and vigour which are requisite for such combats, which are necessary to enable him to vanquish such difficulties. He is ready to cry, " I shall never see that goodly mountain and Lebanon ; I shall never see the king in his beauty, nor behold that land which is so far ofl'." II. Let us briefly notice the consolations of God opposed to these uneasy thoughts. 1. We first adverted to such as arise from the disordered state of the world. * Psalm xlii. J0> t Psalm cxix. 25. K2 148 COMFORTS OF CHRISTIANS UNDER TRIALS. On this subject great consolation springs from the conviction that the Lord reigneth. There sit at the helm infinite power, wisdom, and goodness. These perfections are of such a nature that renders it impossible for them to lie dormant or inactive : they are in perpetual operation ; and, in the final result, they will appear with ineffable splendour and beauty. " Clouds and darkness are round about him : righteousness and judgment are the habitation of his throne." Under the administration of such a Being, all events will infallibly terminate well, — well for the interests of his glory, and well for the interests of his people. With whatever [uneasiness] we may contemplate the prevalence of moral disorder, and its portentous effects in a future state, the page of revelation assures us, that ultimately the world will be filled with holy and happy creatures ; that religion and virtue will prove triumphant ; and that all nations shall see the glory of God, and worship at his footstool. And with respect to the final state of the wicked, there is every reason to conclude that their numbers will bear no proportion to those of the blessed, and that thus no more misery will be inflicted than w-hat will be rendered conducive to the order and happiness of the universe. 2. Under painful apprehensions respecting the state of the church, the comforts of God are neither few nor small. It behooves us, on such occasions, to reflect that it is incomparably more his care than ours ; that as the Saviour bought it with his blood, he will not fail to guide and govern it in the best manner possible. He has promised " The gates of hell shall not prevail against it." His interpositions in its favour afford a pledge of what he will still accomplish : " I gave Egypt for thy ransom, Ethiopia and Sheba for thee. Since thou wast precious in my sight, thou hast been honourable, and I have loved thee : therefore will I give men for thee, and people for thy life."* Afflictions [are] designed to purify the church. 3. Under the distressing thoughts arising from the state of a Chris- tian, as an individual, the Divine comforts are proposed. In temporal aflliction and privations, how consoling is it to reflect that they are all ordered in infinite wisdom, proceed from the purest benignity ; that they will issue in our advantage, and that they will be but of short duration. This, may the afflicted Christian reflect, is not an eternal state ; these afflictions aie but for a moment. " Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning."! • Isaiah jtliii. 3, 4. t Psalm xsx. 5. ON HUMILITY BEFORE GOD. 149 XXX. ON HUMILITY BEFORE GOD. James iv. 10. — Humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord, In that portion of his epistle to which these words belong, we find that James is addressing, not the professed Christians, but their avowed enemies and persecutors, probably his countrymen, who still continued to display the highest antipathy to Christianity. " Whence," says he, " come wars and fightings ? come they not hence, even of your lusts that war in your members ? Ye desire, and have not, because ye ask not. Ye ask, and receive not, because ye ask amiss, that ye may consume it upon your lusts. Ye adulterers and adulteresses, know ye not that the friendship of the world is enmity with God ?"* As the persons who were the objects of these remarks were, unques- tionably, utterly estranged from the Christian religion, and the enemies of God, it is evident the duty inculcated in the words under our present notice enters into the first elements of Christian piety. It is reported of the celebrated Austin of Hippo, that being asked what was the first thing in religion, he said, " Humility ;" when asked what was the second, he answered, " Humility ;" and what was the third, he still returned the same answer, " Humility ;" — alluding to the celebrated answer which the Athenian orator is said to have made on the subject of eloquence. It seemed to have been the intention of that great maa to insinuate, that lowliness of mind, in the full extent of its operation, included nearly the whole of practical religion. Humility may be considered in two views ; either as it respects the Divine Being, or as it respects our fellow-creatures, — humility before God, or as it affects our sentiments and conduct towards men. But, while this distinction is admitted, it must be carefully remembered, that it is no longer a Christian virtue than when it originates in just conceptions of the great Parent of the universe; that the basis of all social excellence of a moral nature, is in a right state of the heart towards God. The virtues M'hich are severed from that stock will soon languish and decay ; and as they are destitute of proper principle, so are they neither stable nor permanent. In this discourse we shall confine ourselves to the consideration of humility, in its aspect towards the Supreme Being ; or, in other words, humility before God. It may be defined as consisting in that profound, habitual conviction of our nothingness, guilt, and pollution before God, which a just knowledge of ourselves will necessarily inspire. It is the rectitude of this conviction, it is its perfect conformity to the real * James iv. 1-4. 150 ON HUMILITY BEFORE GOD. nature of tilings, which renders it the object of Divine approbation. It is the agreement between the lowhness of our minds and flie debasement of our character, and the depression of our state, which invests it with all its beauty, and all its value. The gracious notice which this disposition attracts is not owing to any intrinsic excellence in the object, any more than in lofty sentiments connected with a reflection on ourselves ; but solely because a deep humiliation coincides M'ith our true state and characters, as surveyed by the eye of Omni- science. In a word, it is the justness and the correctness of the feel- ings and convictions which enter into the composition of an humble mind, which give it all its worth. Pride is the growth of blindness and darkness ; humility, the pro- duct of light and knowledge : and while the former has its origin in a mistaken and delusive estimate of things, the latter is as much the offspring of truth as it is the parent of virtue. Let it be observed, that the disposition under consideration is not an occasional feeling, arising from some sudden and momentary impulse ; it is not a transitory depression, produced by some unexpected disclo- sure : in the good man, it is an habitual state of feeling ; it is the quality in which his mind is uniformly attired ; he is " clothed with humility." Wide and diffusive as its operation is, some conception of it may be formed by attending to the following observations :— - 1. Humility in the sight of God will have a powerful influence on all our thoughts and reflections ; on ourselves, on our character, con- dition, and prospects : a sense of inherent meanness and unworthiness in the sight of God will adhere closely to us, and will insensibly, and without effort, mingle with every recollection of the Supreme Being. A sort of self-annihilation before him will be natural and habitual ; and by a recollection of his majesty, and a consciousness of our utter un- worthiness to appear in his presence, we shall be no strangers to that ingenuous shame wliich will scarcely permit us to lift up our eyes to heaven. Under the influence of this principle, we shall be more apt to think of our faults than our virtues ; of the criminal defects with which we are chargeable, than of any pretensions to excellence we may suppose ourselves to possess. Our faults are our own ; they originate entirely in ourselves ; to us belong all their demerit and their shame : while for whatever inherent good we may possess, we are indebted to Divine grace, which has alone made us to difler. While there is none to share with us the baseness and turpitude of our sinful actions, our virtues are to be ulti- mately traced to a source out of ourselves. Hence whatever is wrong in our dispositions and conduct lays a foundation for unniingled humilia- tion ; what is of an opposite nature supplies no pretext for uniningled self-complacency. Besides, it requires but little attention to perceive that our sins admit of no apology, while our highest attainments in holiness are accompanied by much imperfection : so that, while every pretension to merit is defeated, our demerits are real and substantial. True humbleness of mind will dispose us to form that correct estimate of ourselves which can only result from an attention to the heart, the ON HUMILITY BEFORE GOD. 151 secret movements of which we may often perceive to be irregular and depraved where the external conduct is correct; and innumerable pol- lutions and disorders may be detected there by Him " who seeth in secret," when all that is visible to man is innocent and laudable. Here a prospect is opened to the contemplation of humble piety which suggests occasion of abasement and humility before God, where [our friends] see nothing but matter of commendation and applause. It is this habit of inspecting the interior of the character, and of carry- ing the animadversions of conscience to the inmost thoughts and imaginations of the heart, that accounts for that unfailing lowUness and humility before God which is the constant appendage of exahed piety, and which reconciles the highest elevations of religion with the depths of self-abasement. This is sufficient to preserve alive a constant sense of deficiency in the most advanced Christian, of scattering every idea of " having already attained," and of " being already perfect," and to urge him to press forward towards the prize with unabating ardour. This was the spirit of the great apostle of the gentiles,* and of the most illustrious heroes in the cause of Christ. The self-reflective faculty is, by the constitiuion of our minds, so incessantly active, and the idea of self of such frequent occurrence, that its effects on the character must be extremely different, according as it turns to the view its fairest or its darkest side. The habit on which ■we now speak, of directing the attention to criminal defects rather than to the excellences of the character, is not only the dictate of humility, it is the absolute suggestion of prudence. Excellences are not inspired by being often contemplated. He who delights to survey them con- tributes nothing by that exercise to their prosperity or growth ; on the contrary, he will be tempted to rest in the self-complacency they inspire, and to relax his efforts for improvement. Their purity and lustre are best preserved in a state of seclusion from the gaze even of the pos- sessor. But with respect to the faults and imperfections with which we are encompassed it is just the reverse ; — the more they are reflected on, the more fully they are delected and exposed, the greater is the probability that their growth will be impeded, and a virtuous resolution evinced to extirpate and subdue them. To think much upon our sins and imperfections is to turn ourselves to that quarter in which our business lies. Meditating much on our virtues and good deeds is a useless occupation, since they will thrive best when abandoned to a partial oblivion. Some consciousness, indeed, [in the Christian] of his possessing the features of a renovated mind, and even of a progress in the practice of piety, is almost unavoidable, and is not without its use, inasmuch as it supplies a motive to gratitude and a source of consolation ; but the moment he finds himself drawing a self-complacency from such a retro- spect, the enlightened Christian is alarmed, nor will he suffer himself to dwell long upon an object, the survey of which is so replete with danger. He hastens to check himself in that delusive train of reflec- tion, and to recall to his [mind the persuasion] that he has " not yet * Phil. iii. 12-14. 162 ON HUMILITY BEFORE GOD. attained, nor is already perfect." The recollection that he is a fallen creature, exposed to righteous indignation — that his sins, though remit- ted, can never cease to be his, nor to retain all their turpitude and demerit — and that he is, whatever his attainments, still a child of dis- obedience and a pensioner on mercy ; — the constant remembrance of these solemn and momentous truths is sufficient to preserve a perpetual humiliation in the sight of God. 2. HumiHty before God will have a beneficial influence on the mind in which divine truth is contemplated, and its discoveries received. He who is humble before God, will be so conscious of his utter insufficiency to explain the mysteries of religion, that he will be inexpressibly thank- ful for divine communications. He will feel and recognise his absolute need of a guide in the momentous concerns of eternity. In the obscu- rity of reason, heightened by the perplexities of guilt, he will distinctly perceive his entire dependence upon Heaven for every ray of informa- tion respecting the great concern of reconciliation with the offended Deity ; and while he disclaims all pretension to a title to the Divine favour, he will be instantly convinced, that to solve the problem, " How man shall be just with God," must ever surpass the powers of finite reason. Humility is the best preparation for studying the oracles of God, by destroying our confidence in every other teacher. " The meek will he guide in judgment: the meek will he teach his way."* It is scarcely possible to conceive a greater presumption than those are guilty of who decide beforehand what it is fit and proper for reve- lation to communicate, and pertinaciously reject every doctrine, how- ever clearly and unequivocally asserted, which is repugnant to their previous anticipations ; — as though we possessed some independent source of information sufficiently clear and determinate to limit and control the supernatural suggestions of divine truth. The supposition on which this conduct proceeds is utterly false and preposterous. In- dependently of revelation, we have no data from which we can infer the purposes of God, or the method of his dealing with fallen creatures. "For who hath known the mind of the Lord, or, being his counsellor, hath instructed him ?"t None knoweth " the things of God, but the Spirit of God."J: On the supposition we are combating, what necessity is there for revelation at all, since the pretension of being able to ascertain the contents of revelation beforehand implies a previous degree of know- ledge, which makes the illumination of Scripture come too late ? The necessity of revelation is founded on the supposition of insuperable ignorance ; the power of ascertaining its subsequent discoveries is founded on knowledge ; and the two suppositions destroy each other. The usual pretence for rejecting some of the distinguishing doctrines of the gospel is, their mysterious nature ; or, in other words, the impos- sibility of comprehending them in their full extent. That nothing that is repugnant to the plain dictates of reason can claim belief is readily * Ps. XXV. 9. t Rom. .\i. 34. 1 Cor. ii. 16. ? 1 Cor. it 11. ON HUMILITY BEFORE GOD. 153 admitted, because impossibilities are not the objects of power, even sup- posing it to be infinite ; but the mysteries of the gospel are not of this nature. They include, it is true, something which we cannot fully comprehend ; but they contain notliing which the legitimate exercise of reason perceives to be absurd : they surpass the limits of reason, without doing violence to its dictates. And what is more natural to expect than that the communications of Infinite Wisdom should unfold objects to our view which, in all their bearing and extent, transcend the feeble powers of a worm ; or that assertions respecting the mode of Divine existence and the counsels of eternity will be found in the volume of revelation most remote from our previous conjectures ? The grandeur of God, the awful, unfatiiomable depths of his wisdom, and the mysteriousness of his essence, would lead rather to a contrary sup- position. Humility in the sight of God will at once scatter these chimeras, and bow the mind to the profoundest submission to Divine teaching. He who knows himself will be prostrate in the presence of Infinite Majesty, and say, in the language of an eminent saint, " Speak, Lord, for thy servant heareth." Far from measuring the communica- tions of heaven by the standard of a preconceived hypothesis, he will attend with child-like simplicity to the oracles of God, and endeavour to subject " every thought and imagination to the obedience of Christ." He will abandon himself with the utmost alacrity to the directions of an infallible guide. He will permit " the deep things of God" to be unfolded by that Spirit which alone is able to search them, conscious that in the concerns of eternity " the foolishness of God is wiser than men."* With a mind truly humble, the great principle which pervades the gospel will be found peculiarly congenial ; and what is this but the principle of grace ? The whole system of the gospel is emphatically " the gospel of the grace of God."t It is an exhibition of unmerited favour to a guilty and perishing world ; and all the blessings which it proposes to bestow, all the hopes it inspires, are ascribed to this as its origin. Every idea of human desert is anxiously excluded, while the whole provision which it makes for the wants, the whole relief it affords to the misery of man, is ascribed solely to this source. To [exhibit] to the view " of principalities and powers in heavenly places" the riches of Divine grace is its avowed end and purpose. If he has " raised us up together with Christ, and made us to sit down with him in heavenly places," it is " that he may show forth to the ages to come the surpass- ing riches of his grace in his kindness towards us by Jesus Christ."J In every stage of the stupendous undertaking, " grace reigns through righteousness unto eternal life."^ It is the triumph and pre-eminence of grace that forms the distin- guishing character of the Christian system, and which produces that insuperable disgust with which it is contemplated by those who, " going about to establish their own righteousness, refuse to submit themselves, unto the righteousness of God." Hence the attempts are in many instances too successful which are daily witnessed to disguise this its * 1 Cor. i. 25. t Acts XX. 24. t EpUes. u. 6, 7. 5 Rom. v. 21. 154 ON PATIENCE. obnoxious feature, and by certain extenuations and refinements to ac- commodate it to the pride of the sinful and unsanctified heart. Hence the deplorable infatuation of multitudes, who choose rather to perish m their sin than to be so entirely and deeply indebted to unmerited favour as the system of the gospel implies. But to a mind truly humbled nothing is more welcome, nothing is more delightful, than the contem- plation of revealed truth under this aspect. To feel himself under an unutterable obligation is no oppressive load, from which the contrite in heart is anxious to be released. He cheerfully takes his proper place ; loves to sink into the lowest depths of self-abasement ; and values the blessings of salvation infinitely more for that * * XXXI. ON PATIENCE. Heb. X. 36. — Ye have need of patience. This epistle was evidently directed to persons in a state of calamity and suffering, and contemplates its readers under that aspect. It was addressed to Jewish converts, who suffered from the rancorous bigotry and malice of their countrymen, who, in the commencement of Chris- tianity, were its most violent and formidable persecutors. It attaches to some remarkable period of persecution which they had sustained immediately on their professing the gospel. " But call to remembrance the former days, in which, after ye were illuminated, ye endured a great fight of afflictions, partly ; while ye were made a gazing- stock both by reproaches and afflictions, and pai-tly, while ye became companions of them that were so used."* In this trial they had conducted themselves with great constancy and firmness, " taking joyfully the spoiling of tlieir goods." Hence the apostle takes occasion to admonish them still to persevere in the hope and profession of the gospel, intimating they were not to expect an exemption from future trials. " Ye have need of patience." The state of Christianity, in every age, has called for the exercise and cultivation of this grace. It is a quality in the composition of a Christian which is never unnecessary, as he must not expect long to be in a situation where its exertion is not demanded. I. The circumstances of Christians are often such as to render its exercise indispensably requisite, if they would glorify God, by evincing a suitable spirit and conduct. 1. The trials which good men are called to endure are often very •Heb. X. 32, 33. ON PATIENCE. 155 severe. They have their full share in the ordinary ills of life ; besides trials which are peculiar to themselves, arising out of the nature of the Christian profession. On many of them poverty presses with an accumulated weight. They find it difficult, or impossible, with all the exertions they can make, to procure an adequate provision of the necessaries of life for themselves and families. They are obliged to content themselves with a scanty and insufficient diet, with clothing insufficient to protect them from the inclemencies of the season, which is sometimes aggravated by the state of their health being such as calls for certain comforts and indulgences, which it is out of their power to procure. Their subsistance is precarious ; so that when they rise in the morning they have no certainty of being able to provide for the day that is passing over them; which is enough to overcast the mind with anxious and dismal forebodings. They could endure hardships themselves perhaps with tolerable composure ; but it is distressing to see the helpless and innocent babes asking, with imploring looks, for that relief from hunger which they are unable to supply. How many a pious head of a family, in this and in almost every other country, is placed, at this moment, in these afflicting circumstances ! and, surely, it will be readily acknowledged that such " have need of patience." -2. The trials under which many of the people of God are labouring are various and complicated : a confluence of afflictions meet together, and heighten and exasperate each other. The evils of poverty are aggravated by sickness and bodily pain ; a constitution broken down with the weight of years and infirmities is added to domestic trials and disappointments the most difficult to sustain. Those from whom assistance was expected become cool and indiffisrent, perhaps hostile ; and the anguish arising from confidence betrayed, and friendship violated, is added to every other evil. Thus David, in his old age, when his natural strength was much abated, had to struggle with the unnatural rebellion of his son, and with the treacherous desertion of some of his most intimate and endeared friends, those with whom he had often taken sweet counsel, and gone to the house of God in com- pany. " Had it been an enemy I could have borne it, but it was thou, mine equal and my guide." When he had reason to hope he had surmounted his difficulties, and by great exertion and resolution weath- ered the storms of life, and was about to enter into a peaceful harbour, a sudden hurricane arose, which drove him back into the ocean, and threatened him with total destruction. Job, in like manner, was visited with stroke upon stroke : first his property was torn from him, then his children, then his health ; lastly, the friends from whom he expected support and consolation turned his enemies and accusers. As he had great need of patience, so his exemplification of it, though far from being perfect, was such as to render his name illustrious through every succeeding age. 3. When heavy and complicated trials are of long continuance, — when, after enduring them long, no prospect of deliverance appears, no 166 ON PATIENCE. mitigation is experienced, — when there is none who can venture to set a period to calamities, — tliis is a circumstance that puts patience to the severest test. It is much easier to bear a very acute pain or affliction for a short time, than one much more moderate during a very protracted period. Tlie duration of trials is a severer exercise of patience than their severity. For a certain time the soul collects itself, and sum- mons up its resolution to bear ; but when the sufiering continues long, the mind becomes weary of exerting a continued eflbrt and is apt to yield to the force of impatience and inquietude. In these several situ- ations the Christian has need of patience. II. Let us consider the nature and the excellence of true patience. It is a grace of the Spirit of God. God condescends to be called the " God of patience ;" and [we read of] " the kingdom [and patience] of [Jesus] Christ," — [of] " the word of his patience." By means of it they who suffer possess their souls. Another intention of this passage it is not necessary to mention: the present [being] instructive, and sufficiently adapted to the apparent design of the writer. [There is] a great difference in the manner in which the same trials are borne by difi'erent persons : — some restless, complaining, dissat- isfied with the conduct of Providence, and at all around them ; others, though they feel, are yet composed, tranquil, self-possessed, capable of exercising their thoughts, and of exerting their reason, without disturb- ance— they " possess their souls." The happy eflects of this frame of spirit are the following : — 1. He who in "patience possesses his soul" is able to trace his afflictions to the hand of God ; looking through inferior instruments to the hand of the Supreme Director. 2. He is prevented from forming an erroneous and exaggerated estimate of his sufferings ; from his suspecting that they are singular and unparalleled ; and thus from sinking into despondency, and indulg- ing a spirit of complaint ; " knowing that the same afflictions are accomplished in your brethren that are in the world." 3. He is at leisure to [attend] to the instructions which afflictiens contain, to learn those important lessons which they are best adapted to teach. Affliction is a school where we cannot learn, unless we, in some degree, possess our souls in patience. " Thou shalt also con- sider in tliine heart, that as a man chasteneth his son, so the Lord thy God chasteneth thee. " And he humbled thee, and suffered thee to hunger, and fed thee with manna, which thou knewest not, neither did thy fathers know ; that he might make thee know that man doth not live by bread only, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of the Lord doth man live. Thy raiment waxed not old upon thee, neither did thy foot swell, these forty years.* 4. He who possesses his soul in patience is able to perform many important duties while in a state of suffering. It is not a barren season to him. " Blessed are ye that sow beside all waters, that send forth thither the feet of the ox and the ass."t Much cultivation of the heart, much internal spiritual discipline, may then be exercised. * Dcut. viii. 3, 4, 5. t Isaiah xxxii. 20. ON CANDOUR AND LIBERALITY. 157 5. He who thus possesses patience is at liberty to reach the prom- ises of God to open his mind to the consolations of the gospel. He can reason with his soul — "Why art thou so cast down, O my soul?" 6. While in patience we possess our souls, we can expatiate in the views of future blessedness. XXXII. ON CANDOUR AND LIBERALITY, AS EVINCED IN PROMO- TING THE ERECTION OF PLACES OF WORSHIP. Luke vii. 5. — He loveth our nation, and he hath built us a synagogue.* It is pleasing and instructive to behold in the narratives of Scrip- ture frequent instances of the triumphs of divine grace over obstacles utterly insurmountable to any inferior power, and even striking examples of transcendent piety, where, considering the actual state of human nature, it was least to be expected. In these instances is verified the truth of our Lord's observation, " What is impossible with men is possible with God." We learn that no combination of external circumstances, no pro- fession or situation in life, however beset with temptation, no education, however unfavourable to the production of piety, ought to make us despair of attaining salvation. Are the habits of military life peculiarly hostile to piety, and is it difficult, in connexion with these, to maintain that humility, sobriety, and heavenly-mindedness, which are so essential to religion ? Our text exhibits, notwithstanding, a most eminent saint in the person of a centurion. Is a neglected or, what is still worse, a perverted education a great obstacle in tlie way of salvation, — an education from which rehgion has been entirely excluded, or religious principles inculcated, the most fatal and erroneous ? Behold an instance of unparalleled * The sermon of which the brief notes are here presented was the last, except one, that Mr. Hall preached ; though the notes seem to have been prepared for a former occasion. It was delivered on the morning of February 27, 1831, the ."^unday previous to the attack which terminated in death. The students in the Bristol Education Society (an institution devoted to the preparation of young men for the ministry in the Baptist persuasion) had long been in the habit of preaching in various very small places, in the more populous and wretched quarters of the city of Bristol ; and their labours being Ibund productive of much good, it was judged expedient to ert-ct a place of worship, which might not only contain the several small companies thus assembled, but accom- modate others that might be induced to attend. A considerable sum of money was accordingly raised for I his purpose: the building was commenced; and in order to contribute towards the remainder of the expense, it was proposed to make a collec'ion in Broadmead chapel. Mr. Hall very warmly seconded the project, and recommended it, with great earnestness, after his morning sermon. In the evening he preached a very impressive and splendid discour-se on the text^ " Take heed, and beware of covetousness," of which he does not appear to have prepared any notes. This subject he meant to apply to the case of the new place of worship; but an exceedingly heavy rain occasioning a compar.itively small congregation, he stated, towards the conclusion of the sermon, that it would not be doing justice to a cause in which he felt so lively an interest, to maka the collection while so few persons were pre.sent ; and proposed to defer it, therefore, to a future occasion. But, alas 1 this was the c'ose of his public services: and they who had so often seen his countenance beaming with intellect, benevolence, and piety, and listened to his voice with inex- pressible delight, and many of them with permanent benefit, saw and heard him no more !— Ej». 158 THE CANDOUR AND LIBERALITY devotion and faith in a Roman centurion, a heathen by birth, and, as there is every reason to conclude, trained up in the practice of idolatry from his earliest infancy. Is the possession of authority apt to intoxicate man with pride, and especially in proportion as that authority is arbi- trary and despotic ? We have here, in a Roman officer, a pattern of the deepest humility. Having occasion to apply to our Lord for the cure of his servant, he would not admit of his giving himself the trouble of coming in person, from a conviction that it was unnecessary, and that he was undeserving of such honour. Finally, are mankind apt to be ill affected to each other on account of difference of national character, and the opposition which [exists in their religion?] The opposition, in this respect, between the Romans and the Jews was as great as can well be imagined. The Romans were devoted to idolatry, and looked upon the Jews, who refused to join in the worship of idols, as a sort of atheists ; they hated them for their singularity and their supposed unnatural antipathy to all other nations ; and, at this time, despised them as a conquered people. The centurion, though he had been nursed in these prejudices, and was now, by very profession, employed in maintaining the Roman authority over Judea, yet " loved the Jewish nation, built them a synagogue," and sought an interest in the affections of that people ; so that the Jewish elders, sympathizing with him under his distress, are the bearers of his message to our Lord. Let us attend to the hints of instruction suggested by the character which they here give of the centurion. L " He loveth our nation." We have already remarked the superiority to prejudice which this trait in his character implies. We now observe, his attachment to the Jewish nation rested on solid grounds ; it was such an attaclnnent that it was next to impossible for a good man not to feel. The Jews were the only people in the world, before the coming of Christ, who were taken into an express covenant with God. To them he stood in a relation different from that which he sustained towards any other people. He was their proper national head and king. The covenant on which he became so was entered into at Mount Sinai, when Jehovah descended in a visible manner, uttered his laws in an audible voice, and, by the express consent of the people, communicated to Moses those statutes and ordinances which were ever after to form the basis of their polity, civil and religious, and a perpetual barrier of separation between them and other nations. Conducted by a train of the most astonishing miracles to the land of Canaan, God was pleased to dwell among them by a miraculous symbol, and to make them the depositaries of true religion. Thus the will of (lod was known and his worship celebrated, while surrounding nations were sunk in the deepest igno- rance. A succession of prophets was raised up at different periods ; a body of inspired truths was communicated ; a peculiar system of providence established, as far as their affairs were concerned ; find a series of predictions preserved, by whicii an expectation was excited of the appearance of a divine person of their race, who was to be the " light of the gentiles," " the glory of Israel," the person in whom OF THE CENTURION RECOMMENDED. I59 " all the nations of the earth were to be blessed," These high privi- leges and prerogatives are thus enumerated by St. Paul : " Who am an Israelite, of whom is the adoption, and the glory, and the covenants, and the giving of the law and the promises ; whose are the fathers, and of whom as concerning the flesh Christ came, who is God over all blessed for evermore." As the centurion derived his knowledge of the Supreme Being from the Jews, either by conversing with them or attending [their worship,] he necessarily felt himself attached to that nation. Religious benefits, as they are incomparably superior to all others, lay a foundation for the strongest attachment among men. If we are taught rightly to appreciate spiritual favours, we shall feel veneration and respect for those who, under Hod, have been the instruments of conveying them to us, far superior to what we feel towards any other persons. To love the Jewish nation is still a natural dictate of piety. To that nation we are indebted for the records of inspiration, and the light of the gospel ; for the men who, under the direction of the Spirit, composed the former and published the latter among the pagans were all Jews. Moses and the prophets, Christ and his apostles, let it be remembered, were Jews ; and though the Israelitish race are for the present suf- fering the vengeance of the Almighty for rejecting the Messiah, the blessings yet in reserve for them, to be bestowed at a future season, are great and signal. Separated for a time from the church of God for their unbelief, the period of their exaltation is deferred, but their glory is not extinguished : "• As concerning the gospel, they are enemies for your sakes ; but as touching the election, they are beloved for their fathers' sakes. For the gifts and calling of God are without repentance." They are the seed of a glorious church, the stock of which remains in the earth ; but which, at a future time, will revive and flourish in the beauty of holiness, and send forth its branches to the end of the earth. Though they have long lain " in the valley of vision till their bones are become very dry," yet the Lord in his own time, and that not a remote one, will " call to the four winds, the Spirit of God will revive them, their sinews will come upon their flesh, will cover them, and they shall live." As the Jews were the first instruments in converting the nations to the faith of Jesus, so, we doubt not, it is to them the honour is reserved of the final and universal propagation of the gospel : for " if the fall of them be the riches of the world, and the diminishing of them the riches of the gentiles, how much more their fulness ?" On this account, when we behold the miserable outcasts of the Jewish nation, it is natural and proper for us to feel in a manner similar to what we are accustomed to do on beholding a prince in exile and captivity, with the difference which arises from the certainty of their being restored to more than their former splendour ; " when the De- liverer shall come from Sion, and shall turn away ungodliness from Jacob." Was the Jewish nation an object of respect to the devout worshipper of God ? How much more are the servants of Christ entitled to the same 160 THE CANDOUR AND LIBERALITY respect ! The servants of Christ are " the true circumcision, who worship God in the Spirit, rejoice in Christ Jesus, and have no confi- dence in the flesh." They succeeded to the spiritual privileges of the Jewish church, and enjoy them in a still higher degree. They are the salt of the earth ; they are, through the illuminations of the Sun of Righteousness, the " light of the world," the " city set on a hill, which cannot be hid." The love of God will never fail to manifest itself, by saving those, in every sect and denomination, who appear to be partakers of his holiness. "Everyone that loveth him that begat, loveth him also that is begotten of him." With all their imperfections, true Christians will invariably be esteemed by a good man as the excellent of the earth. Having contemplated thp attachment which the centurion displayed to the people of God, let us next consider in what manner his attach- ment was evinced. It was not an empty profession, productive of no fruit. II. He " hath built us a synagogue." The original words are more emphatic : " It is he who built us a synagogue.^'' Synagogues were places of worship, where the Jews were wont to assemble on their Sabbath, to hear the law and the prophets read and interpreted, ac- companied with suitable exhortations to the people, and to present prayer and praise to God. Wherever ten Jews resided who were at leisure to attend the worship of God at ordinary times, as well as on the Sabbath, it was the opinion of the Jewish rabbles a Synagogue ought to be erected. Thither the people resorted, not only to hear the law, but also to ofl'er up their supplications ; the times of prayer, which were at nine in the morning, at noon, and at three o'clock in the evening, corresponding to the times of presenting the morning and evening incense. These buddings for public worship were very much multi- plied : at Jerusalem there were many hundreds of them ; at Alexandria they were also prodigiously numerous ; and there was scarcely a town where any number of Jews resided where there was not one or more. They were governed by a council of elders, over whom presided an officer called the angel of the synagogue, whence the tide of angel is supposed to be given in the Revelation to the presiding elder or bishop in the Christian church. In each synagogue a discipline was established for the support of purity of manners : and punishments were sometimes inflicted on notorious transgressors of the law. Thus we read of Saul, afterward named Paul, scourging men and women in the synagogues. These places of worship are supposed to have taken rise among the Jews after the return from the Babylonish captivity ; at least, we find no distinct traces of them before, though it was customary, even in the days of Elisha, to resort for instruction to the prophets, on the new moons and the Sabbaths. They were a most important appendage to the temple-worship, and a principal cause of preventing the Israelites from relapsing into idolatry, to which they were before so strongly addicted. Instead of assembling at Jerusalem three times a year, where no public instruction was OF THE CENTURION RECOMMENDED. 181 delivered, but sacrifices and offerings only presented by the priest, the people, by means of synagogues, had an opportunity of listening to the writings of Moses and the prophets every Sabbath-day, the officii ating ministers publicly harangued the people, and the persons who frequented the synagogue were united in religious society. Whde the temple-service was admirably adapted to preserve the union of the nation, and to prevent innovations in the public solemnities of religion, the synagogues were equally calculated for an increase of personal piety, and to perpetuate in the minds of the people the knowledge of revealed truth. After these were established, degenerate as the sons of Israel became, we never read of their relapsing into idolatry. The denunciations of the law were so often thundered in their ears, the calamities which their fathers had suffered for this offence were too familiar to their recollection, ever to allow them thus " to tempt the Lord to jealousy." There is undoubtedly a great resemblance between the edifices erected for public worship among us and those of the Jews. They appear to me to bear a much greater analogy to the synagogues than to the temple. The temple was a single building, which the Israelites were forbidden to multiply, it being designed to be a centre of union to the whole nation, as well as the immediate seat of the Divine presence, •vyhich was confined to that spot : synagogues might be built at pleasure, and were spread over the whole land. The very idea of a temple is that of an immediate habitation of the Deity, who manifests himself there in a supernatural manner, or, at least, is believed so to do by his votaries. In the heathen temples, after they were duly consecrated, the gods in whose honour they were erected were supposed to take an immediate and preternatural possession of them. What was mere pretence or delusion among the heathen was at the temple of Jerusa- lem an awful reality : the Lord visibly "dwelt between the cherubim.'* In places set apart for Christian worship, there were no such visible tokens of the presence of God. The manner of his presence is spirit- ual, not local ; he dwells in the hearts of his worshippers. St. Stephen taught the Jewish nation, that it was one of the distinctions of the Christian dispensation that the Highest no longer " dwelleth in temples made with hands." An altar, a sacrifice, and a priest were the necessary appendages of the temple. But, among Christians, we have no altar so called but the cross ; no priest but the Son of God, who remaineth " a priest for ever ;" and no sacrifice but the sacrifice " once offered for the sins of the world." The priestly ofiice of Christ put an end to the typical priesthood of the sons of Aaron. It is an everlasting priesthood, and admits of no rival or substitute. In popular language, indeed, we give the appellation to that order of men who are set apart to minister in sacred things ; and it is of no consequence, providing we recollect that it is but figurative language, not designed to be rigorously exact : for the apostolic definition of a priest, in the strict sense of the word, is one " taken from among men, and ordained for men in things pertaining to God, that may offer both gifts and sacrifices for sins." In the temple-service no provision was made for the regular instruction Vol. III.— L 162 THE CANDOUR AND LIBERALITY of the people in the principles of religion beyond what the more serious attention might call out from the typical import of its services, which were indeed " a shadow of good things to come," and obscurely pointed to the Saviour. It was erected as a place of national rendezvous, where God gave audience to the people as their temporal sovereign, and received their sin-offerings and peace-offerings, as an acknowledg- ment of their offences and tokens of their allegiance. The ceremonial institution was then in the highest degree pompous and splendid. Synagogues were established, it has already been observed, for the worship of individuals, for the instruction of the people in religious principles, and for the exercise of prayer and devotion every Sabbath, as well as on other suitable occasions. The mode of worship was plain and simple, and more corresponding to the genius of Christianity. To this we must add, that the platform of the church was framed, in a great measure, on the plan of the Jewish synagogues, as is gene- rally acknowledged by the most learned men. The Scriptures were read and interpreted in both, which was the origin of preaching ; prayer was addressed to God in the name of the congregation ; each was governed by a council of elders, over which one presided, which gave birth to the title of bishops ; and irregularities of conduct and errors in doctrine were the subjects of censure and animadversion. Excommunication in the Christian church was similar in its effects to an expulsion from the synagogue. So great was the resemblance be- tween Christian assemblies and synagogues, that they are sometimes, in Scripture, used as synonymous terms. " If there come into your assembly," says St. James, " a man with a gold ring, or goodly appa- rel :" in the original it is synagogue. We need not be surprised at that close analogy we have traced, when we reflect that the first con- verts to Christianity were principally Jews, who, incorporating them- selves into societies, adopted, as far as they were permitted by the Holy Ghost, the usages and forms to which they had so long been accus- tomed. III. The passage which is the ground of this discourse represents the conduct of the centurion as highly praiseworthy and exemplary. " He is worthy," say the Jewish elders, " for whom thou shouldst do this ; for he loveth our nation, and hath built us a synagogue." To assist in the erection of places of worship, providing it proceed from right motives, is unquestionably an acceptable service to the Most High. Whatever extends his worship, in facilitating the means of it, is directly calculated to promote his glory and the salvation of men, with whicli the worship is inseparably connected. The service and worship of God is the very end of our creation ; the perfection of it constitutes the glory of heaven ; and its purity and spirituality, in whatever degree they subsist, are the chief ornaments of earth. The increase of places dedicated to public worship ought surely to be no matter of lamentation or offence. They are rendered necessary by the increase of i)(>pulation. It is this which renders that accom- modation quite inade(iuatc at present vvhich was sufficient in former times. The edifices devoted to the established religion in our country OF THE CENTURION RECOMMENDED. ig$ are plainly too few, and the accommodation afforded to the poor espe- cially too scanty, were the people ever so well disposed, to accom- modate all who might wish to resort to them. Were I to advance this on my own [authority,] I am well aware it would be entitled to little weight. I must be allowed to corroborate it by the testimony of one of the most distinguished ornaments of the Church of England, a cler- gyman, a man of elevated rank, of enlarged and profound observation, and of exalted piety, who notices this evil in the following terms : — " Where are the poor in our large towns, where are the poor in the metropolis to find room ? One of the consequences obviously resulting from this deficiency, wherever it subsists, of accommodation in a paro- chial church for the poor is this, that they are reduced to the alter- native of frequenting no place of worship, or of uniting themselves with some of the Methodists or dissenters. Each branch of the alter- native has been adopted within my knowledge. That those who cannot obtain admittance into our places of worship should frequent the religious assemblies of some of our brethren in Christ who differ from us, ought to be a subject of thankfulness to ourselves. But are We justified in driving them from truth which we regard as simple, and as taught under very favourable circumstances, to truth blended with error, or presented under circumstances of disadvantage ?" The pre- ference this writer avows for his own denomination is such as becomes every honest man ; while the favourable opinion he avows of the designs of others does honour to his head and heart. Till the legislature will exert itself, by adopting some effectual measure for the more extensive accommodation of the people in paro- chial churches, no enlightened friend of religion will complain of the supply of this deficiency by the exertions of persons out of the pale of the establishment. It is above all things necessary to the welfare of the state, to the salvation of souls, and the glory of God, that public ■worship should be supported and upheld : in what edifices, or with what forms, providing heresy and idolatry are excluded, is a consider- ation of inferior moment. We do not differ from our brethren in the establishment in essentials ; we are not of two distinct religions : while we have conscientious objections to some things enjoined in their public service, we profess the same doctrines which they profess ; we worship the same God ; we look for salvation through the blood of the same Mediator ; we implore the agency of the same blessed Spirit by whom we all have access to the Father ; we have the same rule of life ; and maintain, equally with them, the necessity of that " holiness without which none shall see the Lord." The increasing demand for new places of worship, or for enlarging the old, arises, in a great part, from the increased attention paid to the concerns of religion. L3 164 REWARD IN HEAVEN. XXXIII. ON THE REWARD OF THE PIOUS IN HEAVEN. Matt. v. 12. — Rejoice, and be exceeding glad: for great is your reward in heaven. The gospel of Christ is not intended to extinguish or impair the natural sensibility of the human mind ; but to purify and refine it, rather, by directing it to its proper objects. It proposes to transfer the affec- tions from earth to heaven, — from a world of shadows and illusions to a world where all is real, substantial, and eternal. By connecting the present with the future, by teaching us to consider every event in its relation to an hereafter, it presents almost every thing under a new aspect, and gives birth to such views of human life as, on a superficial observation, appear false and paradoxical. What can appear more so than to call upon men to " rejoice and be exceeding glad," when they are persecuted and reproached, and loaded with every kind of calumny ? Yet such, we find, is the language of that Teacher who, " coming from above, is above all." Nor is there any difficulty in admitting the justness and propriety of the sentiment contained in this injunction, when it is added, " for great is your reward in heaven." A consummation so glorious throws a lustre over all the preparatory scenes, and turns into an occasion of joy and exultation that from which we should otherwise recoil with horror. We may reasonably be expected to welcome the short-lived pains which are to be followed by eternal pleasures, and those tempo- rary reproaches which will be compensated with everlasting glory. I. The felicity which awaits those who persevere, through good and evil report, in a steadfast adherence to Christ, is frequently expressed in the Scriptures by the name of reward. It is almost unnecessary to remind you that this term is not on such occasions to be taken in its most strict and proper sense, as though the patience and perseverance of the saints deserved eternal felicity. Nothing is more opposed to the doc- trine of Scripture, and the feelings of a real Christian, tlian such an idea. It is true, the inspired writers evince no reluctance to employ this term. Our Lord declares, " He that receiveth a prophet in the name of a prophet shall receive a prophet's reward ; and he that receiveth a righteous man in the name of a righteous man shall receive a righteous man's reward ; and whosoever shall give to drink unto one of these little ones a cup of cold water in the name of a disciple, he shall in no wise lose his reward."* " Love your enemies, and do good, and lend, hoping for nothing again ; and your reward shall be great, and ye shall be called the children of the Highest."! St. Paul assures us, " Every man shall receive his own reward : if any man's work abide, he shall receive a ♦ Matt. X..41, 42 t L'lke vi. 35 REWARD IN HEAVEN. 165 reward."* " Let no man beguile you of your reward."! " Thy Father which seeth in secret shall reward thee openly."| " Behold, I come quickly ; and my reward is with me, to give to every man ac- cording as his work shall be."'^ But still we must never lose sight of its true nature — that " it is of grace, not of debt." It is what the infinite condescension of God is pleased to bestow on those who love [him,] not what any man claims as equitably due : for our best per- formances are mixed with sinful imperfections, which need themselves to be pardoned ; not to say that the ability to perform them is the effect of renewing and sanctifying grace ; so that while in one sense they are our deeds, they are in another his donations. The felicity which God will bestow upon his faithful servants may be properly denominated a reward., on the following accounts : — 1. It is inseparably joined to obedience, and is promised as a motive to encourage and sustain it. Christ will be the " Author of eternal salvation to them," and them only, " who obey him."l| 2. It will be bestowed expressly as a mark of approbation and ac- ceptance of the obedience to which it is annexed. It will be bestowed as a token and demonstration of God's complacency in righteousness. *' Seeing it is a righteous thing with God to recompense tribulation to them that trouble you, and to you who are troubled, rest with us, when the Lord Jesus Christ shall be revealed from heaven with his mighty angels."F " And he said unto him, Well done, thou good servant ; because thou hast been faithful in a very little, have thou authority over ten cities."** 3. The reward, the felicity bestowed, will be proportioned to the de- gree of religious improvement, " to the work of faith and labour of love." We are reminded of those who are " saved as by fire ;" and of those who have " an abundant entrance ;" of " a righteous man's," and of " a prophet's reward ;" of some who " sow sparingly," and of others who " sow bountifully," both of whom shall reap accordingly. II. Having said enough to establish the Scripture idea of rewards, I proceed to the more immediate object in view, which is, by a compari- son of both, to evince the superiority of heavenly to earthly rewards, of its recompenses to those of time. 1. The rewards of heaven are certain. Whether we shall possess them or not may be matter of great imcertainty, because it is possible we may not be of the description of persons to whom they are prom- ised. The heirs of salvation may, at certain seasons, entertain doubts of their finally obtaining them ; but they are in themselves certain, since they are secured by the " promise of him who cannot lie." On this account they are strikingly contrasted with earthly recom- penses. The most passionate votary of the world is never certain he shall possess an adequate recompense for all his toil, and care, and earthly sacrifices. How often does she mock her followers with de- lusive hopes, entangle them in endless cares, and exhaust them with hopeless and consuming passions ; and after all a.ssign them no com- * 1 Cor. iii. 8, 14. t Col. ii. 18. t Matt. vi. 8. 6 Rev. yvU. 12. II Heb. V. 9. TV 2 Thess. L 6, 7 ** Luke xix. 17. J,66 REWARD IN HEAVEN. pensation. After years of unremitting fatigue and unceasing anxiety, the object they have pursued eludes their grasp, or appears as remote as ever, till, at the close of life, they are compelled to sit down in hope- Jess disappointment, and confess that they have " sown to the wind, and reaped the whirlwind." Of the many prizes which the world ex- hibits to human hope, there is not one whose possession is certain ; nor is there a single desire with which she inspires her votaries but what is liable to become a source of anguish, by being disappointed of its gratification. Whatever be the immediate object of pursuit, suc- cess depends on circumstances quite out of our power ; we are often as much injured by the folly of others as by our own. If the object which we are pursuing be highly desirable, others feel its attraction as well as ourselves ; and we find ourselves engaged in a race where there are many competitors, but only one can gain the prize. How different is it with heavenly rewards ! In relation to them, no well-meant effort is unsuccessful. We lay up as much treasure there as we sincerely and perseveringly endeavour to accumulate ; nor is •jhe success of our eflbrts liable to be defeated by the jeajousy of rivals. Our attempts to promote the benefit of our fellow-creatures are es- timated according to their events rather than their intentions ; and, how- ever sincere and zealous they may have been, unless they are proi- ductive of some probable benefit, they are treated with neglect and ingratitude. How different in regard to the recompenses of Heaven ! He will reward, not only the services we have performed, but those which it was our wish to have performed. The sincere intention is recom- pensed as well as the deed. " Because this was in thine heart, and thou hast not asked riches, wealth, or honour, nor the life of thine enemies, neither yet hast asked long life ; but hast asked wisdom and knowledge for thyself, that thou mayst judge my people, over whorn I have made thee king : wisdom and knowledge is granted unto thee."* The friendship of mankind is sometimes as much endangered by the greatness of the benefit conferred as by neglect ; and while little acts of attention and kindness cement the ties of friendship, such is the perverseness of human nature, that great favours weaken and dissolve them. While they are sufficiently aware of the advantages that they derive, they hate the obligation which they entail; and feeling themselves incapable of making an adequate return, they consult at once their pride and their indolence by forgetting it. But how different is it in relation to the Supreme Being ! we can never lay him under obliga-r tion; yet his kindness disposes, while his opulence enables, him to reward in the most liberal manner. Many are so inmiersed in meanness and folly that they have little care but to be amused : the voice of truth and the admonitions of wisdom are discord to their ear ; and he who desires to conciliate their regard must not attempt to do them good, but must sooth their pride, ;jifiame their corruptions, and hasten on their destruction. They are * aChron. i. 11. REWARD IN HEAVEN. 167 of the temper of Ahab, the king of Israel, who caressed the false prophets that hired him on to his ruin, while he avowed his hatred of Micaiah, because he " prophesied evil of him, and not good."* The disinterested patriot who devotes his nights and days to promote the interests of his country may very probably fall a victim to its vengeance, by being made answerable for events beyond human fore- sight or control ; and one unsuccessful undertaking shall cancel the remembrance of a series of the most brilliant achievements. The most important services frequently fail of being rewarded when they are not recommended by their union with the ornamental appendages of rank or fortune. " There was a little city, and few men whhin it ; and there came a great king against it, and besieged it, and built great bulwarks against it : now there was found in it a poor wise man, and he by his wisdom delivered the city; yet no man remembered that same poor man."t From these and various other causes that might be specified, we see how uncertain are the recom- penses of this world, and how delusive the expectations they excite, and to what cruel reverses and disappointments they are exposed. How different the reward which awaits us in heaven ; how infallibly certain the promise of Him that cannot lie ; how secure the treasure that is laid up in heaven, which " rust cannot corrupt, nor thieves break through and steal !" They are not liable to the fluctuations of time and chance, but are secured by the promise and the oath of God. n. The recompenses of heaven are satisfying. How far this quality is from attaching to the emoluments and pleasures of this world universal experience can attest. They are so far from satisfy- ing, that their effect uniformly is to inflame the desires which they fail to gratify. The pursuit of riches is one of the most common and the most seductive which occupy the attention of mankind, and no doubt they assume at a distance a most fascinating aspect. They flatter their votary with the expectation of real and substantial bliss ; but no sooner has he attained the portion of opulence to which he aspired, than he feels himself as remote as ever from satisfaction. The same desire revives with fresh vigour ; his thirst, for further acquisitions is more intense than ever ; what, he before esteemed riches sinks in his present estimation to poverty, and he transfers the name to ampler possessions and larger revenues. Say, did you ever find the votary of wealth who could sit down contented with his present acquisitions 1 Nor is it otherwise with the desire of fame, or the love of power and pre- eminence. The man of pleasure is still, if possible, imder a greater incapacity of finding satisfaction. The violence of his desires renders him a continual prey to uneasiness ; imagination is continually suggesting new modes and possibilities of indulgence, which subject him to fresh agitation and disquiet. A long course of prosperity, a continued series of indulgences, produces at length a sickly sensibility, a childish impatience of the slightest disappointment or restraint. One desire * 1 Kings xxu. 8. t Eccles. ix. 14, 15. 168 ON TAKING THE NAME OF GOD IN VAIN. ungratified is sufficient to mai* every enjoyment, and to impair the relish for every other species of good. Witness Haman, who, after enumerating the various ingredients of a most brilUant fortune, adds, *' Yet all tliis availeth me nothing, so long as I see Mordecai the Jew sitting in the gate."* The recompenses of the world are sometimes just, though they never satisfy ; hence the frequency of suicide. * * * III. The recompenses of heaven are eternal. XXXIV. ON TAKING THE NAME OF GOD IN VAIN. Exodus xx. 7. — Thou shah not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain. The laws given to the Israelites were of three kinds — ceremonial, judicial, and moral. The ceremonial consisted of those religious observances and rites which were partly intended to separate the peculiar people of God from surrounding nations, and partly to pre- figure the most essential truths and blessings which were to be com- municated to mankind at the advent of the Messiah. These, being in their [nature] typical, necessarily ceased when the great Personage to whom they pointed made his appearance. The judicial laws respected the distribution of property, the rights of rulers and subjects, and the mode of deciding controversies, together with a variety of other particulars relating to civil polity, which is always of a variable and mutable nature. The third sort are moral : these are founded in the nature of things, and the reciprocal relations in which God and man stand towards each oilier, and are consequently unchangeable, since the principles on which they are founded are capable of no alteration. The two former sorts of laws are not obligatory upon Christians, nor did they, while they were in force, oblige any besides the people to which they were originally addressed. They have waxed old, decayed, and passed away. But the third sort are still in force, and will remain the unalterable standard of right and wrong, and the rule throughout all [periods of time.] The Ten Commandments, or the "Ten Words," as the expression is in the original, uttered by God, in an audible voice, from Mount Sinai, belong to the third class. They are a transcript of the law of nature, which prescribes the inherent and essential duties which spring from the relation which mankind bear to God and to each other. The first four respect the duty we owe to God, and the last six that which we owe to our fellow-creatures. The first ascertains the object of worship ; the second the mode of worship, forbidding all ♦ Esther v. 13. ON TAKING THE NAME OF GOD IN VAIN. 169 visible representations of the Deity by pictures or images ; the third inculcates the reverence due to- the Divine name ; the fourth the observation of the Sabbath, or of a seventh part of our time to be devoted to the immediate service of God. These ten rules, in order to mark their pre-eminent importance and obligation, were inscribed by the finger of God on two tables of stone, which Moses was com- manded to prepare for that purpose. Our attention is at present directed to the third of these precepts — " Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain ;" in treat- ing of which we shall endeavour, — I. To determine what is forbidden in this commandment ; and, II. The grounds on which this prohibition proceeds. I. In considering what is forbidden by the precept before us, it were easy to multiply particulars ; but the true import of it may, if I am not mistaken, be summed up in the two following : — 1. It forbids perjury, or the taking up the name [of God] for the purpose of establishing falsehood. Vanity is frequently used in Scrip- ture for wickedness, and particularly for that species of wickedness which consists in falsehood ; and after all that has been [advanced] on that famous saying of our Lord, " every idle word that men shall speak, they shall give account thereof in the day of judgment,"* it is most probable that he means by idle word, a word which is morally evil, partaking of the nature of falsehood, malice, pride, or impurity. It is in this [view] only, as it appears to me, that the truth of our Lord's saying can be soberly and consistently maintained. When the pretended prophets are threatened on account of their uttering vain visions, the vanity ascribed to them meant their falsehood. In all civilized countries recourse has been had to oaths, which are solemn appeals to God respecting a matter of fact for the determination of controversies which could not be decided without the attestation of the parties concerned, and of other competent witnesses. Hence an oath is said by the apostle to be " an end of all strife. '"f To take a false oath on such occasions, which is the crime of perjury, is one of the most atrocious violations of the law of nature and of God which can be committed, since it involves two crimes in one ; being at once a deliberate insult to the majesty of God, and an act of the highest injustice towards our fellow-creatures. A perjured person is accordingly branded with infamy, as well as subjected to severe punishment, which is equally demanded by the honour of God and the welfare of society. It may be reasonably hoped there is no person in this assembly who has been guilty of this crime, or is under any strong temptation to commit it. But I cannot omit this opportunity of expressing regret that the multiplication of oaths by the legislature in the affairs of revenue and of commerce has tended to render them too cheap, and has greatly diminished the horror with which the very idea of a false oath ought to be accompanied. Though it is always lawful to swear to a fact of which we are well * Matt. xii. S6. f Heb. vi. 16. 170 ON TAKING THE NAME OF GOD IN VAIN. assured, at the requisition of a magistrate or a public functionary ; yet it deserves the attention of a Christian legislator, whether the introduc- tion [of oaths] on every the slightest occasion can have any other tendency than to defeat the purpose, by rendering them of no authority ; to say nothing of the blow which it strikes at the root of public morals. If it was a complaint made by an ancient prophet, " By reason of swearing the land mourneth," we have assuredly not less reason to adopt the same complaint. Perjury, it is to be feared, is an epidemic vice in this nation. Among many it is reduced to a system ; and, awful to relate, there is, as I am credibly informed, a tribe of men who make it their business to take false oaths at the custom-house, for which they are paid a stated price. The name by which these wretched men are known is, it must be confessed, highly apposite ; they are styled damned souls* But to proceed. 2. The second way in which this precept is violated is the profane use of the name of God on trivial occasions ; in familiar discourses, whether it be in mirth or in anger. There are some men who are in the constant liabit of interlarding their common discourses with the name of God ; generally in the form of swearing, at other times in the language of cursing and execration, without any assignable motive, except it be to give an air of superior spirit and energy to their lan- guage. The mention of the Deity is often so introduced as evidently to appear a mere expletive ; nor is any thing more common than to hear such persons declare they absolutely mean nothing by it. When persons of this description are inflamed with anger, it is usual for them to express their resentment in the form of the most dreadful execrations, wishing the damnation of their fellow-creatures. There are multitudes who are scarce ever heard to make mention of the name of the Deity but upon such occasions. To evince the criminality and impiety of this practice, let me request your serious attention to the following considerations : — (1.) The practice of using the name of God on slight and trivial occasions is in direct opposition, not only to the passage [sslected for our meditation], but also to a variety of others which identify the character of God with his name. He demands the same respect to be paid to his name as to himself. When the prophet Isaiah foreiels the propagation of true religion, he expresses it in the following terms ; — " They shall sanctify my name, and sanctify the Holy One of Jacob, and shall fear the God of Israel."! " I will sanctify my great name."| The piety of the tribe of Levi is thus expressed : — " My covenant was with him of life and peace ; and I gave them to him for the fear where- with he feared me, and was afraid before my name."*^ " I am a great King, saith the Lord of hosts, and my name is dreadfid among the heathen. "II 'J'he respect which God pays to his name is a frequent plea with the saints of God in their supplications for mercy : " What * On Friday. tliR 15th of July, 1831, the Marquis of Landsdowne declared in the House of Peers, on introducing a bill lor llie regulation of oaltis in certain government departments, that 10,000 oatha were taken in the department of the Customs, and 12,000 in that of the Excise, during the preceding year.— En. t Jsa. .xxix. 23. t Ezek. xxxvi. 23. $Mal.ii. 5. 1| Mai. J. 14. ON TAKING THE NAME OF GOD IN VAIN. 171 ■wilt thou do unto thy great name ?"* " If thou wilt not observe to do all the words of this law that are written in this book, that thou mayst fear this glorious and fearful name, The Lord thy God."t When our Lord directs us to pray that all due reverence [be given to that name], he expresses it thus : — "Hallowed be thy name." It is proper to remark, that as there were " gods many, and lords many," among the heathen, to distinguish himself from these pretended deities he was pleased to reveal himself to Abraham and to his descendants inider the peculiar name of Jehovah, which signifies essential, inde- pendent, and unchanging existence-J The reverence paid to this name among the Jews was carried to the greatest possible height : it was never pronounced in common, nor even read in their synagogues ; but whenever it occurred in the Scriptures, the word Adonai was substi- tuted in its place. Among Christians, God has not been pleased to assume any appropriate appellation ; but, as the existence of the pre- tended deities is entirely exploded, the term God invariably denotes ihe One Supreme. The meaning of it is no longer ambiguous, it always represents the true God ; and whatever respect was justly due to the name of Jehovah among the Jews is equally due to that term which is appropriated among Christians to denote the existence and perfections of the same glorious Being. Hence it follows, that when we are taught to pray that the name of God may be hallowed, the meaning of that petition [is] that [the] appellation, whatever it be, by which the Supreme Being, in the various languages of the world, is denoted, may be duly reverenced. The term God among Christians is no more ambiguous than the terra Jehovah among the Jews ; it .denotes one and the same object : and it is therefore as criminal for us to use the one with levity as a similar treatment of the other would have been among the Jews. And hence it is manifest that the whole spirit of the passages here quoted, respecting the name of God, is applicable in its full weight to the subject before us, and directly militates against the practice we are now condemning. (2.) From the remarks which have been made it follows, that the practice of using [his name] lightly, and [on] trivial occasions, is an mfallible indication of irreverence towards God. As there is no [adequate] method of communicating [thought] but by words, which, though arbitrary in themselves, are agreed upon as the signs of ideas, no sooner are they employed but they call up the ideas they are intended to denote. When language is established, there exists a close and inseparable connexion between words and things, insomuch that we cannot pronounce or hear one without thinking of the other. Whenever the term God, for instance, is used, it excites among Chris- tians the idea of the incomprehensible Author of nature : this idea it may excite with more or less force and impression, but it invariably excites that idea, and no other. Now, to connect the idea of God with what is most frivolous and ridiculous is to treat it with contempt ; and ^s we can only contemplate [objects] under their ideas, to feel no * Josh. vii. 9. t Deut. xxviii. 58. i See p. 13-16. 172 ON TAKING THE NAME OF GOD IN VAIN. reverence for the idea of God is precisely the same thing as to feel a contempt for God. He who thinks of [the name of] God without being awed by it cannot pretend to be a fearer of God ; but it is impos- sible to use the name of God lightly and unnecessarily without being in that predicament. It is evident, beyond all contradiction, that such a man is in the habit of thinking of God without the least reverential emotion. He could not associate the idea of God with levity, buffoon- ery, and whatsoever is mean and ridiculous, if he had not acquired a most criminal insensibility to his character, and to all the awful peculiarities it involves. Suppose a person to be penetrated with a deep contrition for his sins, and a strong apprehension of the wrath of God, which is suspended over him ; and are you not [immediately] aware of the impossibility of his using the name of the Being who is the object of all these emotions as a mere expletive ? Were a person to pretend to the character of an humble penitent, and at the same time to take the name of God in vain, in the way to which we are now alluding, would you give the smallest credit to his pretensions? How decisive then must that indication of irreverence be which is sufficient to render the very profession of repentance ridiculous ! But this practice is not only inconsistent with that branch of religion which [constitutes] repentance ; it is equally inconsistent with sincere, much more with supreme, esteem and veneration. No child could bear to hear the name of a father whose memory he highly respected and venerated treated in the manner in which the name of the Supreme Being is introduced. It would be felt and resented as a high degree of rudeness and indignity. There is, in short, no being whatever, who is the object of strong emotion, whose distinguishing appellations could be mentioned in this manner without the utmost absurdity and indeli- cacy. Nothing can be more certain than that the taking the name of God in vain infallibly indicates a mind in which the reverence of God has no place. But is it possible to conceive a state of mind more .opposite to reason and order than this 1 To acknowledge the existence of a Supreme Being, our Maker and Preserver, possessed of incom- prehensible perfection, on whom we are totally dependent throughout every moment of duration, and in every stage of our existence, without feeling the profoundest awe and reverence of him, is an impropriety, a. moral absurdity, which the utmost range of language and conception is inadequate to paint. If we consider the formal nature of sin as a deliberate transgression of the Divine law, it resolves itself chiefly into this, that it implies a contempt of infinite Majesty, and supreme power and authority. This disposition constitutes the very core and essence of sin. It is not merely the character of the wicked that they con- temn God ; it enters deeply into the character of wickedness itself; nor is there a heavier charge, among their complicated crimes, adduced against the ancient Israelites, than that they " lightly esteemed the Rock of their salvation."* With respect to the profane oaths and execrations which most of * Deut. xxxil. 15. ON TAKING THE NAME OF GOD IN VAIN. 173 those who are habituated to " take the name of God in vain" fre- quently utter when they are transported with emotions of anger, their criminahty is still greater as they approacli the confines of blasphemy. To hurl damnation at our fellow-creatures whenever they have fallen under our displeasure is precisely the conduct of the fool described by Solomon, who " casteth about firebrands, arrows, and death, and saith. Am not I in sport ?"* We will do them the justice of supposing that they are far from really wishing the eternal destruction of their fellow-creatures ; but, admitting this to be the case, admitting they have no such intention, is not this more than to insinuate that these terms have absolutely no meaning, and that the sanction of the Divine law, the punishment of a future state, have no such existence, but are become mere figures of speech, — that Christianity is exploded, and that its most awful doc- trines, like the fables of pagan superstition, serve only the purpose of allusion'? Is it possible for him who lives under an habitual con- viction of there being an eternal state of misery reserved for the impenitent, to [advert to] the terrors of that world on every slight occasion to give additional force to the expressions of his anger? (3.) The practice of taking the Lord's name in vain is not only a great indication of want of reverence for God, but is calculated to wear out all serious religion from the mind. The effect of associating the most awful words expressive of religious objects with every thing which is mean and degrading, is adapted, in the highest degree, to sink them into contempt. He who has reflected the least on the laws of the human mind must be aware of the importance of association, or of that principle in consequence of which ideas and emotions which have been frequently presented to the mind at the same time naturally recall each other. It is by virtue of this law of nature, principally, that habits are formed, and that the links which connect things in the memory are constituted. By virtue of this it is that objects which have been fre- quently presented along with ludicrous and ridiculous circumstances acquire a character of ridicule. Hence the art of turning persons or things into ridicule is to place them in juxtaposition with what is low and trivial ; in consequence of which the emotion of contempt excited by the latter is made to adhere to the former, and stamps them with a similar character. These remarks, obvious as they are, may be suf- ficient to evince the pernicious efiect of taking the Lord's name in vain. Though it is not the formal design of those who indulge this practice ta turn the most sacred objects into ridicule, it perfectly answers that purpose as much as if it were their professed intention. The practice [whose evils] we are endeavouring to [point out] will be more certainly productive of that efl!ect, because it is usually con- nected with a total absence of the mention of God on all other occasions.- Among this description of persons the name and attributes of the Supreme Being, and the punishments of eternity, are rarely, if ever, introduced but in the way of profanation. If the most awful terms in religion are rarely or never employed but * Prov. xxvi. 18, 10. 174 ON THE ORIGIN AND IMPORT in connexion with angry or light emotions, he must be blind indeed who fails to perceive the tendency of such a practice to wear out all traces of seriousness from the mind. They who are guilty of it are continually taking lessons of impiety, and their progress, it must be confessed, is proportioned to what might be expected. (4.) The criminality of taking the Lord's name m vain is enhanced by the absence of every reasonable temptation. It is not, like many other vices, productive of either pleasure or emolument ; it is neither adapted to gratify any natural appetite or passion, nor to facilitate the attainment of a single end which a reasonable creature can be supposed to have in view. It is properly the "superfluity of naughtiness," and can only be considered as a sort of peppercorn rent, in acknowledgment of the devil's right of superiority. It is a vice by which no man's reputation is extended, no man's fortune is increased, no man's sensual gratifications are augmented. If we attempt to analyze it, and reduce it to its real motive, we find ourselves at a total loss to discover any other than irreligious ostentation, a desire of convincing the world that its perpetrators are not under the restraint of religious fear. But as this motive is most impious and detestable, so the practice arising from^ it is not at all requisite for that purpose ; since the persons who [persist in] it may safely leave it to other parts of their character to exonerate' them from the suspicion of being fearers of God. We beg leave to remind them that they are in no danger of being classed with the pious either in this world or in that which is to come, and may therefore safely spare themselves the trouble of inscribing the name of their master on their foreheads. They are not so near to the kingdom of God as to be liable to be mistaken for its subjects. XXXV. ON THE ORIGlN^ AND IMPORT OF THE NAME CHRISTIANS. Acts xi. 26. — And the disciples were called Christians first at Antioch. It is the glorious prerogative of God to bring good out of evil, and by the powerful superintendence of his providence to overrule the most untoward events, and render them conducive to the ends of his glory and the good of his people. The persecution which arose upon the death of Stephen affords a striking instance of this ; whence the disciples, being all scattered and dispersed, besides the apostles, went everywhere preaching the word ; in consequence of wliich, the neighbouring districts and provinces were much sooner visited with tlie light of the gospel than they would have been but for that event. Had the church of Jerusalem continued to enjoy [it] undisturbed in that abundance of spiritual prosperity which attended it, and in the OF THE NAME CHRISTIANS. I'J'5 endearments of the most exalted friendship, they would in all likelihood have been indisposed to separate, and the precious wheat would have been accumulated in one spot. By the violence of persecution this happy society was broken up : the disciples found it necessary, accord- ing to the direction of their Divine Master, to flee to other cities, where^ inflamed with the desire of magnifying Christ and of saving souls, they distributed tfie precious treasure of the gospel. Thus the clouds which the wind had scattered descended in rich and copious showers to refresh and render fruitful the earth : " And at that time there was a great persecution against the church that was at Jerusalem ; and they were all scattered abroad throughout the regions of Judea and Samaria, except the apostles ; and they that were scattered abroad went every- where preaching the word."* Among other places where the gospel was planted on this occasion was Antioch, a famous city built on the river Orontes, and the capital of Syria, where the kings of Syria, the successors of Alexander the Great, usually resided. This city must be carefully distinguished from^ Antioch in Pisidia, mentioned in the thirteenth chapter of the Acts of the Apostles. The instruments chiefly employed in this work appear to have been men of Cyprus and C}^rene, who, when they were come to this city for the first time, spoke to the Greeks (that is, the pagan inhabitants of the city), preaching the Lord Jesus. Much success crowned their labours ; or, to speak in the language of the Holy Ghost, " the hand of the Lord was with them, and a great number believed and turned to the Lord." This is the first instance we meet with in sacred writ of the gospel being preached to the heathen. Though the apostles and evangelists had received from their Lord a commission for that purpose, it was some time before they fully comprehended its import, or attempted to execute it. By a special direction, Peter had, indeed, previous to this, communicated the gospel to Cornelius and his family ; but no general attempt had hitherto been made to propagate Christianity among idolaters. Until this time, they who were dispersed from Jerusalem, in various parts, preached the gospel to Jews only. The introduction of the gospel into Antioch was therefore distinguished by the remarkable circumstance of its being the first instance in which the apostles' com- mission was executed to its full extent, and the treasures of divine truth were freely proposed to the acceptance of the gentiles. It was here the light of the word first began to dawn on benighted pagans, and that the heathen began to be " given to Christ for his possession." The happy union of Jews and gentiles in one church, and the breaking down of the middle wall of partition which had for ages divided them from each other, commenced here. That ancient oracle in which it was foretold that " God would enlarge Japheth, and that he should dwell in the tents of Shem,"t then began to receive its accomplishment. Those whom Jesus had made " fishers of men," and who had hitherto * Acts viii. 1,4. , t Clen. ix. 27. 176 ON THE ORIGIN AND IMPORT confined their labours to the scanty rivulets and shallow pools of one people, began now to " launch out into the deep," and to cast their net in the wide ocean. When tidings of these things came to the ears of the church at Jerusalem, they were far from feeling emotions of envy. The holy apostles were strangers to any uneasy sensation on finding that event accomplished by meaner instruments which they had neglected to attempt. They immediately " sent forth Barnabas, that he should go as far as Antioch ; who, when he came and saw the grace of God, was glad, and exhorted them, that with purpose of heart they should cleave to the Lord." His character explains his cond\ict ; for " he was a good man, and full of the Holy Ghost and of faith ; and much people were added unto the Lord." Not satisfied with contributing his own exertions to the formation of the work, he called in superior aid : he [went] to " Tarsus, to seek Saul ; and when he had found him, he brought him to Antioch." Thus this church, in addition to other extraordinary circumstances, had the honour of being one of the first scenes in which the great apostle of the gentiles laboured. It was here he began to scatter those celestial sparks which soon after kindled a general conflagration in the world. "And it came to pass that a whole year they assembled themselves with the church, and taught much people." Then follows the cir- cumstance on which we have founded this discourse : "And they were called Christians first at Antioch." L As the appellation of "Christian" was unknown till this time, it is natural to inquire by what appellation they were distinguished pre- viously. From the Scriptures it appears there were various names by which the followers of Christ were characterized. Among themselves the most usual denomination was brethren. " And we came the next day to Puteoli, where we found brethren."* " If any man," saith St. Paul, " that is called a brother be a fornicator, or covetous, or an idolater, with such an one no not to eat."t They were styled " believers :" " And believers were the more added to the Lord, both of men and women. ":j: They were denominated " disciples :" " There went with us also certain of the disciples of Caesarea, and brought with them one Mnason of Cyprus, an old disciple, with whom we should Iodge."§ Their enemies, by way of contempt, styled them Nazarenes ; thus TertuUus accuses Paul of being " a ringleader of the sect of the Nazarenes. "II Of similar import to this was the appellation of Gali- leans, and the term a'iiniats, or sect, meaning by that a body of men who had embraced a religion of their own in opposition to that established by the law. And this appellation of Galileans was continued to be employed by the enemies of Christ as a term of reproach as late as the time of .lulian, who reigned al)out the middle of tlie fourth century, and used it incessantly in liis invectives against Christians. The fol- lowers of Christ were also styled " men of this way :" " And I per* secuted this loay unto the dealh."r * Acts xxviil. 13, 11, t 1 Oor. v. 11. t A'lts v 14. 5 Acts xxi. 16. II Acts xxiv. 5. If Acts xxli. 4. OF THE NAME CHRISTIANS. 177 II. Another question naturally here occurs, — Was this name given by human or divine authority ? On this the Scriptures offer no certain information, nor can any thing be affirmed with confidence. It is not at all probable an appellation so inoffensive, and even so honourable, originated with their enemies ; they would have invented one that was more opprobrious. But supposing it to have been assumed first by the disciples themselves, we can scarcely suppose they would have ventured to take a step so important as that of assuming an appellation by which the church was to be distinguished in all ages, without divine direction ; especially at a time when the extraordinary gifts of the Spirit were so common, and in a church where prophets abounded. For " there were in the church that was at Antioch certain prophets and teachers ; as Barnabas, and Simeon that was called Niger, and Lucius of Cyrene, and Manaen, which had been brought up with Herod the tetrarch, and Saul.*" Is it to be supposed thai they would assume a new appellation without recourse to the prophets for that direction ; or that, supposing it to have had no other than a human origin, it would have been so soon and so unanimously adopted by every part of the Christian church ? This opinion receives some countenance from the word here used, which is not in any other instance applied to the giving a name by human authority. In its genuine import, it bears some relation to an oracle.f Names, as they are calculated to give just, or false representa- tions of the nature of things, are of considerable importance ; so that the affixing one to discriminate the followers of Christ in every period of time seems to have been not unworthy of divine interposition. III. The next inquiry which arises on this subject respects the propriety and import of this name. 1. Of its propriety no doubt can be entertained. It has always been usual in the schools of philosophy, and in the sects arising out of a difference of opinion in religion, to give to the partisans the name of the founder. Thus the Platonists were so styled from Plato, the Pytha- goreans from Pythagoras, the Aristotelians from Aristotle, the Saddu- ceans from Zadoc. The propriety of the followers of Christ taking their name from him was still more striking. The respective leaders we have mentioned merely communicated their opinions to their followers, and after they quitted the present [state] had no further influence over them ; the conviction ceased for ever. It is far otherwise with the disciples of Christ : he is now as much as ever their living- head ; he lives in them, and they live by him. To them he stands in the same relation as the natural head to the members. It is not a civil, but a vhal — not a temporary, but a perpetual and eternal union, which subsists between Christ and his followers. By a sacred and mysterious influence, he imparts his very image to his disciples ; and it is surely fit they should receive their name from him from whom they have derived their nature. * Acts xiii. 1. t Be>Lso7i, Doddridge, and others, think that the word xp»?;'aTi(Tai implies that it was done by a divine direction But Parkhurst tliinks that the passages quoted by Doddridge do not bear him out in his interpretation. — Ed. Vol. III.— M 178 ON THE ORIGIN AND IMPORT In bestowing the appellation of Christians on the disciples of Christ, God may be considered as fulfilling that gracious declaration, " Thon shall be called by a new name, which the mouth of the Lord shall name ;"* " The Lord God shall slay thee, and call his servants by another name."t It soon began to prevail to the exclusion of every other. When Peter wrote his first Epistle, it seems to have been in familiar use : " If any man suffer as a Christian, let him not be ashamed ; but let him glorify God on this behalf.";}: St. James styles it " that worthy name ;" it is truly a most excellent and honourable appellation : " Do they not blaspheme that worthy name by which ye are called T^ In the times of persecution, the only question asked of such as were arraigned at the tribunal of the magistrate was, " Are you a Christian ?" To answer this in the aflirmative was looked upon as in every way to justify the proceeding to the utmost extremities. And in the midst of the sharpest torments, the martyrs found a relief and refreshment in repeating, at each pause of agony, " I am a Christian." 2. The proper import of this name is, a follower of Christ : it denotes one who, from mature deliberation and an unbiassed mind, embraces the religion of Christ, receives his doctrine, believes his promises, and makes it his chief habitual care to shape his life by his precepts and example. The Christian and the man of the world are diametrically opposite characters ; since it is a chief part of our Saviour's design, and the great scope of his religion, to redeem us from the present evil world. The Christian is one who professes to have attained such a practical knowledge of Christ as enables him to walk even as he walked. The rules by which he lives are the words of Christ; his example is the model after which he copies ; the happiness he aspires to is that of being for ever with the Lord. Here it is too apparent that multitudes assume the name of Christian, to whom it is, in strict propriety, utterly inapplicable. Educated in a country where Christianity is the established religion, they acquiesce in its truth, or perhaps never tliought the inquiry, whether it were true or not, of sufficient importance to engage their attention. But to what- ever distinguishes the real (christian — his faith, liis hope, his charity; to whatever relates to a spiritual union witli Christ — faith in liis sacri- fice, delight in his person, or an animating hope of his appearance, they remain total and contented strangers. They neither have any share in these things, nor are dissatisfied at the consciousness of not possess- ing them. They feel no scruple in associating the name of Clirist with many, perhaps, of the vices, and witli all the spirit of the world. This assumption of the name of Christ, without aspiring to the least resem- blance to his character, has done incalculable injury to the interest of religion. To this, more than to any other cause, we must ascribe the little progress vital Christianity has made in the world. It is [this] that imboldens the scoffer, encourages the infidel, the profligate, the * Isa. Ixii. 2. t Isa- Ix''- 15- i 1 Pet. iv. 16. 5 James ii. 7. OF THE NAME CHRISTIANS. 179 votaries of paganism, and seals the eyes of the impenitent in every nation in deeper and more death-like slumber : " For the name of God is blasphemed among the gentiles through you, as it is written."* The time is coming when the liOrd Jesus will vindicate the honour of that name which wicked men have disgraced. It had been better for them not to have named the name of Christ, than, having named it, not to depart from all evil. IV. Let me take occasion from these words to urge you to become Christians in reality and truth. The name without the reality will only augment your guilt and aggravate your doom ; but the possession of genuine religion will add unspeakably to your happiness both here and hereafter. To be a partaker of Christ is to be at peace with God, — to have peace of conscience, to possess a beneficial interest in all things, and an assured hope of life everlasting. He came that you might have life, and more than life. He came to give rest to your souls, to afford you strong consolation under the sorrows of the world, support in the hour of death, and an entrance, when your mortal course is ended, into the glory to be revealed. He is ready to vanquish your spiritual enemies for you, to cleanse you from all your impurities, purge you from all your guilt, and make you " meet to be partakers of the inheritance of the saints in light." While the bare profession of Christianity will bestow neither profit nor delight, the possession of it in reality will be replete with botli, and will afibrd the " promise of the life that now is, and of that, which is to come."! It will deliver you from a thousand snares against which there is no other relief; eman- cipate you from the bondage of a. multitude of degrading passions, and invest you with the " glorious liberty of the children of God." However lightly you may esteem it now, be assured that the moment is coming when to belong to Christ, to be in union with him, will be felt to be a greater happiness than to be master of the world. Every other honour will fade; every other distinction will pass away; every other enjoy- ment be exhausted ; while the crown of righteousness which Christ will give to his sincere followers will shine with undecaying brightness through the ages of eternity. Let the young be persuaded it will add unspeakable grace to the charms of youth ; temper its vivacity with wisdom, tincture its passions with innocence, and form it for a happy, useful, and honourable life. It will be an ornament to youth, a safe directory in the active pursuits of life, a staff' and a consolation amid the decays and infirmities of age. To see you set out in the ways of Christ will afford the highest satisfaction to the church of God ; the most exalted pleasure to your parents, who watch every movement of your mind with parental solicitude, ready to rejoice over you with transport when they can say of any of you, as it was said of Saul, " Behold, he prayeth." V. We cannot but look back w'ith regret to the period when the followers of Christ were known by no other name. Happy period, when, instead of being rent into a thousand parts, and split into innu- merable divisions, the church of Christ was " one fold under one ♦ Rom. ii. 24. f 1 Tim. iv. 8. M2 180 ON LOVE OF THE BRETHREN. Shepherd !" The seamless coat of the Redeemer was of one entire piece from the top to the bottom. The world was divided into two grand parties — (Christians and pagans. This happy state, we have no doubt, will occur again : " The wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid ; and the sucking child shall play on the hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall put his hand on the cockatrice' den. They shall not hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain : for the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord."* In consequence of a more copious communication of the Spirit, some of our differences of opinion will be removed, and " the shepherds will see eye to eye," and others of them will be lost in the indulgence of Christian charity, in the noble oblivion of love. In the mean time, if party names must subsist, let us carefully watch against a party spirit ; let us direct our chief attention to what consti- tutes a Cliristian, and learn to prize most highly those great truths in which all good men are agreed. In a settled persuasion that what is disputed or obscure in the system of Christianity is, in that proportion, of little importance, compared to those fundamental truths which are inscribed on the page of revelation as with a sunbeam ; whenever we see a Christian, let us esteem, let us love him ; and though he be weak in faith, receive him, " not to doubtful disputation." XXXVI. ON LOVE OF THE BRETHREN, AS A CRITERION OF A STATE OF SALVATION. 1 .loHN iii. 14. — We knoiv that toe have passed from death unto life, because we love the brethren. As it is an inquiry of the highest moment whether we are in a state of acceptance with God or under condemnation, we ought carefully to attend to the marks and criterions by which these two opposite states are distinguished in the word of God. The Scripture abounds with pirections on this subject; so that if we remain in an habitual state of suspense and uncertainty, it is not to be ascribed to deficiency of light in the sacred oracles, but must be imputed, for the most part at least, to the want of strict and impartial inquiry. Too many professors of Christianity content themselves without attaining a satisfactory evi- dence of their real character in the sight of God ; hoping all is well, without resting on sure and solid grounds : by which, if their religion is really vain, they incur the charge of presumption ; and if it is genuine, deprive themselves of the richest source of comfort, as well as of motives to the most ardent gratitude. For how is it possible to praise God for a favour which we are not certain we have received ? Or if a * Isa. xi. 6. 8, 9. ON LOVE OF THE BRETHREN. 181 feeble hope is entitled to devout acknowledgment, our praises must be faint and languid in proponion to the mixture of darkness and un- certainty which attends it. We are exhorted to give all diligence, that we may obtain the full assurance of hope : we should never read in the writings of this eminent apostle the rapturous exclamation, " Be- hold, what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons of God,"* had he been in that state of sus- pense respecting his prospects for eternity in which too many Chris- tians allow themselves to remain. With a view to assist the professors of the gospel in their attempts to ascertain their real condition, we request your serious attention while we endeavour to explain and illustrate the criterion of character the apostle suggests in the text : " Hereby we know that we have passed from death unto life, because we love the brethren." Death and life are the two extremes set before us, — spiritual death and spiritual life ; for in this sense, it is obvious, the words must be understood. When the apostle speaks of our passing from death unto life, the phraseology necessarily implies that death is our natural state as sinners ; and, consequently, that he who is perfectly conscious of his having experienced no change is under no necessity of inquiring further : he infallibly abideth in death. " He that loveth not his brother abideth in death."! A transition from one state to another is supposed in every case where there is a well-founded hope of salvation ; and the design of the apostle in the words before us is to suggest an infallible criterion of the reality of such a transition. When he speaks of love to the brethren, we must understand liini to mean love to real Christians, who are frequently, in the New Tes- tament, distinguished by this appellation : " Hereby perceive we the love of God, because he laid down his life for us : and we ought to lay down our lives for tlie brethren. "| In reproving the Corinthians for their contentious spirit, St. Paul used this language : " Brother goeth to law with brother, and that before the unbelievers. Why do ye not rather take wrong ? why do ye not rather suffer yourselves to be de- frauded 1 Nay, ye do wrong, and defraud, and that your brethren."^ In this passage, it is manifest tliat the term brethren is equivalent to Christian, and that it is employed in contradistinction to unbelievers. When the apostle lays down love to real Christians as an infallible sign and token of a justified state, he cannot be supposed to include every sort of attachment which may be felt towards them, from what- ever principles or on whatever occasion it arises. No doubt can be entertained that there are circumstances in which the genuine disciples of Christ may be objects of love, without its furnishing the least evidence of a religious character. Religion may have no sort of con- cern in it. Parents may love their children, children their parents, husbands their wives, and wives their husbands, whatever be the reli- gious character of the party beloved, upon principles merely natural. The natural affections and desires, by which society is cemented, and • 1 John iii. 1, t 1 John iii. 14. % 1 John iii. 16. $ 1 Cor. vi. 6-8. 182 ON LOVE OF THE BRETHREN. mankind are bound to each other, can afford, it is evident, no lest or criterion of rehgious principle. True Christians may possess certain qualities Avhich, according to the principles of liuman nature, are calculated to command a portion of esteem and affection ; such as prudence, generosity, kindness, and fidelity : to which nothing but a brutish insensibility can render men entirely [indifferent.] There are certain social and moral virtues which are so useful to the world, and so attractive in themselves, as to be the natural objects of partiality ; and these Christianity will improve, rather than impair. We may proceed a step further, and add, that a Christian may be even indebted to his religion for certain qualities which excite attachment, and yet that attachment shall afford no proof of the religious character of him who feels it : " The fruit of the Spirit is in all goodness."* This goodness, this genuine benevolence of Christian deportment, has its charms ; and, on a variety of occasions, may excite esteem in persons who have no regard to the principle from whence it flows. " Demetrius had good report of all men, and of the truth itself."! When St. Paul had been inculcating certain Christian graces, he adds, he that hath these things " is acceptable to God and approved of men. "J If we find ourselves overpowered, as it were, and captivated by the display of Christian virtue, we are not hence entitled immediately to draw a favourable conclusion respecting our state, without looking deeper, and inquiring how we stand aft'ected towards the principle whence these virtues emanated. This leads us to observe, that it is the ground on which our attach- ment to a Christian is founded that can alone afford a favourable de- cision in this matter. Do we love the brethren as brethren, Christians as Christians, on account of the relation they bear to their heavenly Father, and on account of their union to Christ ? In any specific case, when we feel warmly attached to a Christian, is it founded on this consideration, that he is a Christian, a follower of the holy and im- maculate Lamb of God \ If we can answer this question in the affirma- tive, St. John authorizes us in our deeming it an infallible evidence of our having passed from death unto life. It affords such an evidence in two ways: — I. Negatively, it proves that we are not of the world. II. Positively, it demonstrates that w'e are of God. I. It proves that we are not of the world : for the world is entirely desthute of an attachment to tlie disciples of Christ, as such. At no period did the world appear favourably disposed to the disciples of Christ as such, or on account of their relation to this their divine Head. Our Lord repeatedly warned his followers to expect just the contrary : "Ye shall be hated of all men for my name's sake."^ "If ye were of the world, the world would love its own : but because ye are not of the world, but I have chosen you out of the world, therefore the world hateth you."|| " I have given them my word ; and the world * Epti. V. 9. t 3 John 12. X Rom. xiv. 18. ^ Matt. X. 22. II John xv. 19. ON LOVE OF THE BRETHREN. 183 hath hated them, because they are not of the world, even as I am not of the world."* The course of events from that to the present time has verified the truth of the Saviour's declaration, — " They were hated of all men for his name's sake ;" they were " persecuted from city to city,"t and even the most eminent among them accounted as " the oifscouring of all things."! I'^ every subsequent age, and in every country, the true disciples of Christ have encountered opposition, which has been almost invariably more or less violent in proportion to their attachment to the Saviour, to the purity of their faith, and the lustre of their piety. Look at the world at present ; view it in this highly favoured nation, furnished as it is with wholesome laws, and restrained from open per- secution : do you perceive the world to evince a predilection for the serious and earnest followers of Christ? Is decided Christian piety, conspicuous in the character of any, a passport to distinction and favour ? On the contrary, will a man be better received in worldly circles for being supposed to resemble Christ? No. We can be at no loss to answer these questions, or avoid perceiving that the world continues invariably consistent with itself in " loving its own,"^ and none but its own. If in any instance its aflections stray beyond its own circle, if in any instance it extends its favourable regards to a real Christian, it is never on account of his being a Christian, — it is never, as St. John expresses it, " for the truth's sake, which dwelleth in bim."|| Since this is an unquestionable fact, that the world is thus unfavourably disposed towards serious (Miristians ; if it be otherwise with us, h proves that we are " not of the world ;"ir or, in other words, that we have " passed from death unto life." II. The love of the brethren, as such, affords a positive proof of our being of God. This will appear in a clearer light if we consider the grounds on which love to Christians proceeds : — 1. To love Christians, as siich^ is to love them on account of their relation to God and the Redeemer. 2. On account of their attachment to both. 3. On account of the resemblance which they bear to these divine Persons. ]. He who loves Christians as such is attached to them on account of their relation to God. The Supreme Being stands in a peculiar relation to Christians, as their God : He is their " covenant God and Father through Christ Jesus." They are, emphatically, a peculiar treasure to him above all the nations of the earth. They are his pos- sessions, his inheritance, his people. In every age there have been a people in whom the blessed God claimed a peculiar interest, on whom he fixed his special love, and manifested himself unto them, as he does not to the world ; a people who were " the temple of God,"** the seat of his special presence, among whom he walked and dwelt. Under tlie Christian dispensation true Christians compose this people. la * John xvii. 14. t Matt, xxiii. 34. } 1 Cor. iv. 13. $ Jphn xv. 19. 11 2 John 3. IT Jotm xv. 19. ** l Cor. ui. 16. 184 ON LOVE OF THE BRETHREN. whatever interesting and endearing relation God stood to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob, he stands in that same relation to the sincere followers of Christ. They are the objects of that special love of which the Saviour speaks in these words : " For the Father himself loveth you, because ye have loved me, and have believed that I came out from God."* To feel attached to Christians on this account is a proof of a heart well affected towards the Supreme Being, reconciled to his requirements and government : and as " the carnal mind is en- mity against God,"t it affords an evidence that this enmity is subdued. If we feel favourably towards the domestics of a family on account of their relation to their master, it is an evidence of affection to the master himself; it is a fruit of it. The relation which Christians bear to the Redeemer is still more intimate and endearing : they are the people that were given him to redeem before the world [began ;] they are the children for whose sake he took flesh and blood ; they are his pupils, his household, and family ; nay, more, his spiritual spouse and the members of his mystical body. The love of the brethren contemplates them in that light, and consequently evinces a heart well affected towards their Lord and head. To give " a cup of water in the name of a disciple"! shall not lose its reward, 2. On account of their attachment to God, and their zeal for the interest of his glory. This is so essential a part of the Christian char- acter that it cannot be separated from the grounds and reasons of a rational regard for Christians, unless we are supposed to be ruled by a blind and unthinking impulse. Our esteem for good men will be intimately blended with tlie consideration of their being on God's side. While the rest of the world continue in a state of enmity and alienation, we must look upon these as reconciled, as persons who have given a cordial and respectful reception to his ambassadors, and have renewed their alliance, or rather made their submission, upon the gracious terms he was pleased to propose. " You, that were enemies in your mind by wicked works, yet now hath he reconciled in the body of his flesh through death."^ And being reconciled, thev are employed to manage his interests, to maintain his honour, and to propagate as far as possible the sentiments of loyal obedience by which they them- selves are actuated. These views enter deeply into tiie Christian character and calling. How can we give a more unequivocal evidence of a loyal and affectionate disposition towards the prince than by abet- ting his, in opposition to the disaflccted, party ? As the case will not admit of neutrality — as he, in such a situation, who is not for the prince is necessarily looked upon as a rebel, so a cordial attachment to his interests cannot be more decisively expressed than by a determined [adherence] to those who cheerfully submit to his authority, and delight in his government. " He that knoweth (iod heareth us."|| 3. True Christians are distinguished by some peculiar traits of re- semblance to God and the Redeemer ; and this enters into the grounds of that regard for them which the apostle speaks of in the text. They * John xvi. 27. t Rom. viii. 7. t Matt. x. 42. $ Colons, i. 2J, 22. II 1 John iv. 6. ON THE DUTY OF INTERCESSION. 185 not only adore the divine nature, but are in some degree partakers of it ; not only " behold in a glass the glory of the Lord, but are changed into the same image from glory to glory."* Their character makes a very distant, it is confessed, but yet a real, approach to the absolute rectitude of the Divine, which they [constantly] study and imitate, [until] they are presented before him unblameable in holiness. In regeneration some traces of the paternal image are impressed ; and with that strange, that more than natural aftection it becomes them to feel towards such a parent, they become " followers of God, as dear children."! If they profess to have fellowship with God, they evince that profession to be no empty boast, by walking in the light as he who is in the light. If they profess to know Christ, to have a sacred inti- macy with him, they justify the pretension in some good degree by walking as he also walked, by doing righteousness as he also did. To feel an attachment to Christians on this account is an unequivo- cal proof of a love of rectitude, a love of God, an attachment to those great moral properties in which the true beauty of the Divine character consists. Close with three remarks. I. The criterion supplied in the text may be inverted. If we do not love Christ, other love will discover itself by the choice of our society. II. It is not only a safe, but a useful criterion suggested in the text, which may be applied to great advantage. We may see the sun through the water when we cannot look upon it in its place in the heavens. III. It should be our care to improve in this part of the Christian character, to abound therein more and more. Love is the characteristic of the Christian. XXXVII. ON THE DUTY OF INTERCESSION. 1 Tim. ii. 1. — I exhort, therefore, that supplications, prayers, interces- sions, and giving of thanks he made for all men. I. DUTV. 1. The reasons and obligations of prayer arise out of the fundamental principles of religion — the belief that there is a God, and that he is " the rewarder of such as diligently seek him." The duty of interces- sion, or praying for others, springs from the relation we stand in to our fellow-creatures. As the former is an essential part of piety, so the latter is a branch of benevolence, not less essential. To love our neigh- bour as ourselves is the fulfilment of the second table of the law. Un- less we believe in the efficacy of prayer we have no pretensions to the * 2 Cor. iii. 18. t Ephes. v. 1. 186 ON THE DUTY OF INTERCESSION. character of Christians ; but if we are convinced that the prayer of tlie righteous avails, we have no right to withhold from those we ourselves are bound to love this advantage, especially as it is a benefit which it is always in our power to confer without loss or detriment to ourselves. In almost every other instance, the favour we confer seems at least to come into competition with the claims of self-interest ; but m this there is no possible interference or intrusion. Here only are we able fitly to imitate the Supreme Being, who im- parts to all without diminishing his own store. The dutv of mterces- sion is also recommended and enforced by this important consideration, that it opens a chanuel in which the benevolence of every individual may flow. To afford pecuniary relief is the privilege of the rich ; to guide the councils of a nation, of the wise ; to ensure victory by arms, of the powerful : but the most obscure person may intercede, and by this means promote the welfare of millions, and affect the destiny of nations. 2. That we are [led] to infer this duty from the general principles of reason and religion. It is implied in the social form of the prayer taught by our Lord, where we are commanded to address God as our Father. It is expressly enjoined by apostolic authority, in the passage now under consideration. It is also a duty exemplified by the practice of the most eminent saints. Abraham interceded for Sodom, Job for his friends, Moses for the people of Israel, Samuel for Saul, &c. In- tercession formed a principal branch of the priestly function of the law. Our great High-priest spent some of the most precious mo- ments near the end of his earthly course in interceding with his Father, not only on behalf of his disciples, but of all who should " afterward believe on his name." The apostle assures us, it is by virtue of his continued intercession in heaven that he is " able to save to the uttermost all that come to God by him ;" so that in his hands it is the refuge of the guilty, the hope of the perishing, a mysterious chain fastened to the throne of God, the stay and support of a sinking world. H. The benefits of intercession ; which may be considered in two lights, — as they respect ourselves, and as they regard others. 1. As they respect ourselves. (1.) It will have a happy tendency to increase our benevolence. As the love of God and of man make up the whole of religion, so there is nothing more likely to promote the love of our fellow-creatures than the bearing them in our minds before the throne of Grace. How can we fail to feel concern for the happiness of those for whom we pray? Either our petitions must be full of hypocrisy, or our good wishes to them must he hearty and sincere. To pray for their welfare, and yet be indifferent, would constitute the grossest dissimulation. In ven- turing to address the Supreme Being in their behalf, we assume the character of advocates. To be indilferent to their welfare is to belie the character and betray our trust. That criminal self-love which is the great reproach of our nature is grown to such a height principally in consequence of our habitual inattention to the situation of others. ON THE DUTY OF INTERCESSION. 187 We contemplate ourselves and our own circumstances, till we almost forget there are any other beings in ttie world. When we can be pre- vailed upon to step out of this narrow circle, and look at the distresses and anxieties which those around us have to encounter, a generous compassion is excited, the tenderness of nature is touched, and our own troubles appear light and inconsiderable. Most of our vices, my breth- ren, may be traced to a want of reflection. And what is the best remedy for this thoughtlessness and vanity, as far as it respects our duty to others 1 Intercession. In solemn intercession with God the misery, the helplessness, and dependence of our fellow-mortals, or rather of our fellow-immortals, rise in view with all their affecting peculiarities ; at those moments, when the mind is the most calm, tender, and elevated — at those moments when none but God can enter — when we feel our own nothingness before Him who is all in all. When we have been " spreading before the Lord" the circumstances of an orphan who has no friend, of a widow who has no protector, of an unhappy man who is under the dominion of lusts which are hurrying him fast to eternal destruction ; is it possible to rise from our knees without feeling sentiments the most noble, tender, and disinter- ested ; without feeling in some measure what Paul felt when he said, " Who is weak and I am not weak ; who is offended and I burn not f Is it possible to return immediately into ourselves, and to behave with unfeeling insolence, as though the world were made for us ; instead of remembering that we are a small part of an immense whole, an incon- siderable member of a vast family ? As we are concerned to employ prayer and intercession for all men, that narrowness of mind which confines our solicitude to a small circle instead of all within our reach, universal good or ill, \vill be the most effectually promoted or remedied. If we comply in any tolerable measure with this apostolic injunction, by off^ering solemn prayer for the happiness of the world and the pros- perity of the church, for the conversion of the heathen and the salvation of the whole earth, in proportion as our thoughts diffuse themselves, our hearts will necessarily become enlarged. (2.) It will be the best antidote against all angry and malignant passions. . We may consider the benefit of intercession as it respects others. There is a remarkable passage in Ezekiel xiv. 14 : " Though these three men, Noah, Daniel, and Job, were in it, they should deliver but their own souls by their righteousness, saith the Lord God." From this passage we may infer two things : — First, that there are seasons when even the intercession of the most eminent will not avail; seasons in which it is unalterably determined to inffict punishment. Secondly, we may infer that these are so rare and so extraordinary, that to declare he will not turn away for intercession is the strongest token of his fierce indignation. (L) If God delights to hear prayer, it is most reasonable to believe 188 ON THL DUTY OF INTERCESSION. he will favourably regard intercessory prayer ; for then the supplicant is exercising two most important virtues at once, — piety and benevolence. He is then employed in fulfilling the whole law, and makes the nearest approach to the Divine nature. (2.) Examples of its success ; — Abraham, Moses, and Job. III. General objects of intercession. 1. Our civil governors. We are under the strongest obligations to this, on account of the inestimable benefits involved in good govern- ment, which, like the natural health of the body, is indispensably ne- cessary to our happiness, yet is scarcely perceived till it be interrupted. We of this country are under peculiar obligations to this duty. 2. The church, " the mother of us all," from whom we are born, at whose breasts we have been nourished with the " sincere milk of the word." " For Zion's sake will I not hold my peace, and for Jeru- salem's sake I will not rest, until the righteousness thereof go forth as brightness, and the salvation thereof as a lamp that burneth. And the gentiles shall see thy righteousness, and all kings thy glory : and thou shalt be called by a new name, which the mouth of the Lord shall name."* Let us pray for its extension, for its peace, for its purity, for the accomplishment of all the promises made to it. 3. The distressed of every description have peculiar claims to our prayers. Indigent Christians, who ever appear to be in a peculiar manner the objects of compassion, will share in our petitions to a throne of Grace. To pray for others is the best salve and relief of powerless benevolence. For where can we turn our eyes without seeing persons misled by error and delusion which we wish in vain to arrest, made wretciied by vices which we cannot reform, or oppressed with misery it is out of our power to avert ? Must it not, in such cir- cumstances, furnish the greatest incitement to go into the presence of that Being to whom it is infinite mercy to heal the maladies of mind and body, and to do " for us, and for all men, above all we can ask or think?" When we have thus commended the case of our distressed fellow-creatures to the Divine notice — when we have thus committed them, as it were, into the arms of our heavenly Father — we feel calm : our compassion grows softer, while it loses its anxiety, and our benevo- lence, like his, becomes strong and glowing, without solicitude. 4. Our friends and relatives. #**** *. * » Application. • Isaiah Ixii. 1, 2. " GOD'S ETERNITY. 189 XXXVIII. GOD'S ETERNITY CONSIDERED, IN REFERENCE TO THE SUSPENSION OF HIS PROMISED PURPOSES. 2 Pet. iii. 8. — But, beloved, he not ignorant of this one thing, that one day is with the Lord as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day* That spirit of prophecy with which the holy apostles were endowed enabled them to foretel the principal defections from the Christian faith which should distinguish the last days, — the papal superstition and infidel impiety. We have long witnessed the fulfilment of both these predictions : the gross idolatry, cruel edicts, and tyrannical claims of the Church of Rome have been for ages promulgated ; and now that superstition appears to be in its dotage, and falling fast into decay, a new progeny has arisen — a scoffing, infidel spirit. They founded their disbelief of Christ's coming to destroy the world, to judge the wicked, and to reward his servants, on the pretended uni- formity of the course of nature. No event which bears any resem- blance to that which the gospel foretels, they pretend, has ever taken place. In affirming this, the apostle charges them with " wilful ignorance" [of the destruction of the world by water.] He then proceeds to declare that the heavens, which at present sub- sist, are reserved for a similar catastrophe, and are doomed to undergo a more signal overthrow. Nor can any argument be deduced against the certain accomplishment of the divine declarations, from the seeming length of the time during which their execution is delayed : since " one day is with God as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day." In attempting to improve these words, we shall, I. Endeavour to illustrate their import, and establish the truth of the proposition which they contain. II. Show to what particular uses the truth which they exhibit may be applied. I. Let us attempt to illustrate the assertion, " One day is with the Lord as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day." It is necessary, in order to enter into the sense and meaning of the apostle in these words, to consider on what occasion they were intro- duced. They are designed as an answer to the objections which irreligious scoffers advance against the certainty of the accomplishment of the divine declarations, founded on its long delay. Impatient and short- sighted mortals are apt to suppose that what is delayed long will never * Preached at Leicester, Sunday, January 6th, 1811 ; the first Sunday in the new year. 190 GOD'^ ETERNITY. take place ; that an evil which has been long apprehended, but through a series of ages has never actually taken place, need be dreaded no more, but may be safely classed among the phantoms of a vain terror. In reply to this, the apostle states that " one day is with the Lord as a thousand years ;" and that long and short, when applied to a part of duration, are not the same in his apprehension as ours : that what appears a long time to us does not appear so to him, whose estimate is so difierent, and whose views are so much more extended. A thou- sand years seem to us a very long period, but in his eyes appear ex- tremely short ; they are but as a day. This idea of the difierent apprehension which God has of time from what we possess, is exhibited in several passages of Scripture : " A thousand years in thy sight are but as yesterday when it is past, and as a watch in the night."* To the same purpose spake the royal Psalmist, in the 39th Psalm : " Make me know mine end, and the measure of my days, what it is ; that I may know how frail I am. Behold, thou hast, made my days as an handbreadih ; and mine age is as nothing before thee."t 1. Every portion of duration is something real, and has a true and proper existence ; but the epithets great and small, when applied to this (as well as to any thing else), are merely comparative. They necessarily imply a comparison of one quantity with another, without which they can never be applied with justice ; for what is great com- pared with one quantity becomes, at the same moment, little when compared with anotlier, and vice versa. Thus, fourscore years are at present considered as a great age ; but would not have been called so before the [general deluge]. That age is now styled great with propriety, because it is so compared with the usual term of life, which is considerably less ; and, for an opposite reason, it would before the flood have been styled small, because it would have been so compared with the average term of human life at that period, which was much greater. We should consider fifty years as forming a very large portion of human life ; but the same number of years in the history of an empire would be justly considered small. Thus is the same quantity either great or small as you place it by the side of something nuich inferior to it in magnitude, or much superior. 2. Hence it results that absolute greatness belongs onlv to what is infinite ; for whatever falls short of this, however great it may appear, its supposed greatness is entirely owing to the incidental absence of another object that is greater. It may be, it will be, infallibly reduced to insignificance, the moment it comes into comparison with that which is so prodigiously superior to it. 3. In duration, al)s()hite greatness belongs only to eternity. The epithet great, or whatever other is most expressive of the profoundest astonishment, is, with the utmost propriety, applied to that unfathom- able abyss. Incapable of being placed in any light, or brought, even by imagination, into any comparison which should reduce it to insignifi- *P8aImxc. 4. t PsalmxxxLx. 4, 5. GOD'S ETERNITY. 191 canee, it asserts its pre-eminence, and vindicates its majesty, in all places and [times], in all the possible varieties of being, or combinations of thought. 4. We must then conceive that He who has subsisted throughout eternal ages ; who knows no " beginning of days, nor end of years ;" who possesses eternity ; to whom all its parts (if we may be allowed so to speak) are continually open, both past and future ; must have a very different apprehension of that inconsiderable portion of it we call time, from creatures who are acquainted with no other. His apprehension, we may easily conceive, will be, in this respect, very different ; and that what to us appears a large portion will in his eyes appear very inconsiderable. Nor let any one here object, and say it must appear as it is, and, therefore there is no reason to suppose it appears to him different from what it does to us. No doubt it appears to him exactly as it is. His apprehensions are, unquestionably, agreeable to the nature of things ; but it does not follow from thence that it must appear in the same light as it does to us : and if there may be a difference, it is surely the highest presumption to make ourselves the standard. That each portion of duration appears to him real we admit ; we are not contending for its being annihilated in his view. Something it is, and something it appears, unquestionably, in his eyes, who views things as they are ; but this is far from proving that a limited portion of duration must appear to him of the same precise magnitude as it does in our eyes. We know, by experience, how susceptible we are of a diversity of apprehension in this respect ; and that at some periods, and in some situations, the same portion of time appears much longer than at others. In circumstances of extreme misery, the moments seem to linger, and the lapse of time is slow. How long would a few minutes appear passed in excruciating torment ! In a season of anxious expectation, which has a portion of misery in it, the same effect is experienced in a lower degree. On the contrary, in a state of enjoyment the hours seem to take wings, and we are but little sensible of the progress of time. When the mind is fully engaged on a delightful subject, when the attention is deeply absorbed in a pleasing train of reflection, we become scarcely conscious that any space of time has elapsed. We must infer from hence that perfect happiness diminishes inconceivably the impression of time ; as, on the contrary, intense misery increases it. Among all the conceptions we form of the Supreme Being, there is none the propriety of which we can less doubt than of his perfect happiness ; nor have any who have believed on him failed to ascribe to him this perfection in the highest possible degree. He is styled in Scripture " the blessed and only Potentate," the happy God : and as he is the fountain of all happiness to his creatures, it resides in him as in its utmost plenitude — as in its proper seat. If his gracious pres- ence is such a perpetual spring of felicity ; if it is at " his right-hand there are pleasures for evermore ;" how much must he enjoy every moment in the contemplation of his perfections, in the survey of his 192 GOD'S ETERNITY. works and designs, and in the possession of his consciousness of his supreme dominion and transcendent excellence, his unutterable and unbounded felicity ! Conceive, then, of a Being absolutely independent, and existing from eternity ; in the enjoyment of infinite happiness, always master of his purpose, never perplexed with difficulty, never agitated with anxious expectation, resting on his own all-sufficiency, and viewing with compla- cency each attribute of his infinite fulness. What, then, is an age in his view, compared to what it is in the eyes of mortals ? Surely with such a Being " one day must be as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day." Admiration is in most instances the offspring of ignorance ; at least, it implies a limitation of the views : so that an object shall appear great in the contemplation of one man, which, to another of more elevated and capacious powers, shall appear small and inconsiderable. But, to an infinite understanding, nothing can appear great that does not partake of its own infinity. The Supreme Mind, and that alone, grasps eternity, possesses it every moment. He not only comprehends, but constitutes, eternal duration, by enduring " from everlasting to ever- lasting;" for there could be no eternal duration if something did not always endure: we cannot conceive of its existence but as a mode of being, and that being is God. The measure by which he estimates time is, consequently, quite different from that which we are compelled to apply in its contem- plation. We measure one portion of duration by another ; he measures time by eternity. How inconceivably different must be the appre- hension arising from these difierent methods of considering it ! In attempting to form a conception of endless duration, we are under the necessity of accumulating ages upon ages, and multiplying millions of ages into millions ; accompanied with this conviction, that we have arrived no nearer to an adequate comprehension of it ; that there remains beyond us an infinitely larger space than we have travelled over. To his view it is every moment present : to him it is familiar, as his element, his habitation ; and from that stupendous elevation he looks down upon the scenes of time and the lapse of ages. These reflections may assist us to conceive how to him one day must neces- sarily be as " a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day." n. The use to which the doctrine of the text may be applied. 1. It removes the ground of objection against the fulfihnent-of the divine declarations arising from the accomplishment being long delayed. If some time is to be allotted for preparation, some space for opera- tion, it surely belongs to (iod to determine of what extent it should be ; this, perhaps, you will admit. But why so long a space ? But in whose eyes is it long ? In yours, who are but the creatures of a day, who are, from the narrowness of your views, liable to perpetual illusions and deception? or in CJod's ? And, amid this diversity of appre- hension, can you hesitate in deciding which is correct? No slackness in his purpose is then to be imputed to him, according THE LORD'S-DAY. 193 to what men account slackness ; no unsteadiness in his resolution, no revokitioii of his determination. Nothing- is to be concluded in favour of the impunity of prosperous vice, nor of the final neglect of oppressed and afflicted piety. The prosperity of the wicked is but for a moment : " I have seen the wicked in great power, and spreading like a green bay-tree : yet I passed by, and he was not ; yea, 1 sought him out, but he could not be found." 2. It accounts for the peculiar cast of Scripture language when employed in announcing the coming of Christ, and the end of all things. 3. Though we cannot immediately change our senses, let us endeav- our to conform our ideas and convictions to the dictates of Infallible Wisdom on this subject. Let us consider the whole duration of things here as very short. The more we drink into the spirit of the Scriptures, the more will this be the case. XXXIX. THE LORD'S-DAY COMMEMORATIVE OF CHRIST'S RESURRECTION. Psalm cxviii. 24. — This is the day which the Lord hath made ; we will rejoice and be glad i?i it. This Psalm appears to have been composed on David's accession to the dominion over all Israel ; when he had subdued his enemies around, and completely established himself as a great and victorious prince. It was probably set to music on the anniversary of David's coronation. That was a most joyful event. As a very important passage in [this Psalm] is applied to Christ, both by himself and his apostles, no doubt can be entertained of its referring, in its fullest and sublimest sense, to the person and kingdom of the Redeemer. In this light I shall consider it in the following discourse : and as the Lord's- day is appointed to commemorate the resurrection of our Saviour, at which his kingdom commenced, I shall endeavour to invite your atten- tion to those sources of religious joy which are opened by that event. The event which this day is designed to celebrate is calculated to afford joy on the following accounts : — I. On this day the purcliase of our redemption was completed. In order to render the salvation of sinners consistent with the lioliness and justice of the Divine nature, some great moral expedient became necessary. The expedient which the Divine Wisdom adopted was the substitution of the Son of God in the room of sinners ; who freely consented to assume our nature, and to sustain those sufferings which Vol. III.— N 194 THE LORD'S-DAY COMMEMORATIVE the Father deemed requisite for the satisfaction of his own justice, and especially the suffering of death. Though the merit of his obedience is more eminently ascribed in Scripture to his death ("He became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross"), yet we are justified in considering all the humiliation he endured during his abode on earth as forming a part of his merit, and consequently of the price of our redemption. His voluntary condescension in coming into our world, his assuming our nature itself, with all its infirmities and sorrows, formed an important part of his merit, because he was under no pre- vious obligation to da it. His merit, as far as it was the result of his sufferings, was composed of three parts :■ — 1. His assumption of human nature itself; which, as he was under no previous obligation of doing, was in the highest degree meritorious. 2. The endurance of evils which were not necessarily included in it ; such as poverty, contempt, and innumerable privations. .3. [His] death ; the efficacy of which was specific, resulting not merely from it as suffering, but as that precise species of suffering which the law inflicted on disobedience: "In the day thou eatest thereof, thou shalt die." " The wages of sin is death." The pain of death terminated when he cried, " It is finished !" but the humiliation still remained until his resurrection. Justice is now satisfied, the law is magnified and made honourable. The majesty of heaven and earth appear in the person of the Saviour, with an inviting benignity dressed in smiles, proclaiming peace from tl:e cross " to them lliat are nigh, and to them that are far ofl'." II. On this day the character of C'hrist was illustriously vindicated, and his pretensions fully asserted and sustained. During his life he laboured under the accusation of deceiving the people ; his miraculous works were imputed to diabolical agency, and death [was] inflicted on him under the character of a blasphemer, because he affirmed himself to be the Son of God : he was " declared to be the Son of God with power, according to the spirit of holiness, by the resurrection from the dead."* " Then said Jesus unto them. When ye have lifted up the Son of man, then shall ye know that I am he, and that I do nothing of myself; but as my Father hath taught me, I do these things."! The grand proof of Christ's messiahship is his resurrection. To witness his resurrection was the principal office of the apostles : " Wherefore of these men which have companied with us all the time that the Ivord Jesus went in and out among us, beginning from the baptism of John, until that same day that he was taken up, must one be ordained to be a witness with us of his resurrection. "J It was the evidence to which he had himself appealed : " Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up again. "^ It was such an attestation of divine approtiatiou as was never conferred before or since. III. This day aflbrded to Christ a signal triumph over his enemies. During his abode in the grave, his enemies exulted, the world rejoiced, his disciples were rejected and dispersed. Witness the desponding * Rom. i. 4. t John viii. 28. J Acis i. 21, 22. $ John il. J9. OF CHRIST'S RESURRECTION. 195 language of his disciples on their way to Emmaus : " We thought it liad been he that should have redeemed Israel ; and, besides all this, it is the third day since these things were done." The hopes of the church were sunk, to the lowest point of depression : it seemed as if the name of Jesus and his cause were for ever entombed in his grave. But how gloriously was the scene reversed by his resurrection ! The person of the Saviour was for ever removed beyond the reach of further assault, and his cause was more than ever triumphant : " And with great power gave the apostles witness of the resurrection of the Lord Jesus : and great grace was upon them all."* Greater miracles were wrought by the apostles in his name than any which he wrought himself. From thence we must date the extensive and successful propagation of the gospel. The Spirit descended, and the eleven apostles were sent forth into all the world. He then began to assume the sceptre of universal dominion, to sit upon the throne of David, to rule and to establish it for ever and ever. " All power was given unto him in heaven and in earth." IV. On this day our Lord gained an everlasting victory over the last enemy, and triumphed over death in that nature which had always been subject to its dominion before. Death had reigned, not only from Adam to Moses, but through all subsequent generations, subjecting the whole race, and trampling them with indignity in the dust. Mil- lions and millions had descended into his dreary prison, of which none had ever been able to break the bars, and escape from the confinement. The king of terrors maintained an undisputed dominion, a despotic sway, over all the past generations of mankind. Some were indulged with a larger respite than others. Some descended into his mansions with more funereal pomp and pageantry ; but when arrived there, they all met with the same reception: the same darkness enveloped them; and they equally said " to corruption, Thou art my sister ; to the worm. Thou art my mother." But on this day a new order of things commenced. Death for the first time encountered an enemy more powerful than himself; and though he seemed to prevail for a moment, he was for ever foiled in the conflict. He received into his territory, in the guise of a captive. Him whom he found a conqueror. [Christ] exhibited the first specimen of immortal man : not that shadow of immortality consisting in being remembered and celebrated for ages by creatures who are hastening to the tomb ; but an immortality con- sisting in a form which is imperishable, — a glorious being, over Avhich death hath no more power, Avhich will subsist in undecaying youth and splendour when the heavens are no more. This is the pattern and example to which the children of the resurrection will be conformed. V. On this day we are called to rejoice in that sure and certain prospect which the resurrection of Christ affords to all true believers, of ascending with him to heaven, and of there partaking with him of his glory. As he was the substituted representative of true believers, what was accomplished in him at his resurrection will ere long be accomplished in them : the victory over death which he acquired he * Acts iv. 33. N3 196 CHRIST'S CARE OVER will impart to them ; the glory which he has received he will give to them ; the eternal rest into which he has entered at his ascension he hath prepared for them : — " Every man in his own order : Christ the first-fruits ; then they that are Christ's at his coming." In nothing that our Saviour sufiered or obtained is he to be considered in the light of a private character. Nothing was suffered on his own account, or effected merely with a view to his own benefit. " As he bore our sins in his own body on the tree," and " died, the just for the unjust, to bring us to God," the rewards which he merited, the dignity to which he was exalted, are not confined to his own person, but accrue to every part of his mystical body. XL. CHRIST'S CARE OVER CHURCHES AND MINISTERS. Rev. ii. 1. — These things saith he that holdeth the seven stars in his right hand, who vxdkcth in the midst of the seven golden candlesticks. As Jesus Christ is the " true light" of the world, so a principal means by which he dispenses his illumination is by the appointment of a stated ministry, and the formation of Christian churches. By concentrating and uniting their efforts, — by collecting their information, their zeal, and piety into a [[)oint,] they dispel much of the darkness of the present state. This state is frequently in Scripture compared to night : " The night is far spent ; the day is at hand."* During the prevalence of this darkness, previous to the rising of the " Sun of righteousness," he has placed his ministers as stars in the firmament, and appointed his churches to be as lamps or candlesticks. By the representation of the text, we are strongly reminded of the sole end and design for which ministers are constituted and churches formed: it is to dispense spiritual illumination to a benighted world; it is tliat they may shine with knowledge and holiness. As far as they answer this purpose they are useful and important ; in proportion as they lose sight of it they forfeit every just claim to esteem, and sink into insignificance and contempt. It is their duty to "hold forth the word of life."t The light they are appointed to dispense is the pure doctrine of Christ, exhibited by an open profession, and sustained and reconnnonded by the virtues of a holy life. AVlien churches depart from the essential truths of Christianity, they become incapable of answering the end of their institution. They are no longer useful lights, but delusive meteors ; whicli, instead of guiding souls to heaven, mislead and betray them to destruction. False teachers are compared by Jude to " wandering stars,"| in * Rom. xiii. 12. t PhUip. ii. 16. t Jude 13. CHURCHES AND MINISTERS. 197 opposition to those mentioned in the text, who are supposed to continue in dieir station, and afford a reguhir and steady light. In representing Christ's ministers under the metaphor of stars, it is not improbable there may be an allusion to Daniel : " They that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament; and they that turn many to righteousness as the stars for ever and ever."* The appellation of " the bright and morning star" is assumed by our Saviour himself; and as ministers, though at an immeasurable distance, are yet nearest him in the official rank in the church, so ouglit they most to resemble him in the distinguishing features in the Christian character. The church is represented as having on her head " a crown of twelve stars,"! which denote the twelve apostles. John saw seven of these stars and lamps : which may either refer to the precise num- ber of the churches to whom Christ sends distinct epistles ; or, as seems more likely, the number is adopted as a mystical number, agreeable to the arrangement of this book, which consists of seven seals, seven trumpets, seven vials, and contains a distinct [intimation] of the seven spirits that are before the throne. There is contained an allusion to the golden candlestick in the temple, which consisted of seven branches. " The eyes of the Lord, which run to and fro through the whole earth."| Let us proceed to consider, — L What is meant by our Lord's holding the stars, his ministers, in his hand. His holding the stars in his hand implies the appointuig them to the ^vork of the ministry. His qualiiying them for the successful discharge of it, and his absolute [disposal and direction] of them and all their concerns. 1. It implies that it is he who appoints them to tlieir office. From him, as the sole Head of the church, they derive their commissions. They are his servants and messengers. He sometimes describes them by appellations peculiar to the Jewish church ; as when he tells the Jews, " Behold, I send unto you prophets, and wise men, and scribes :"^ — but more frequently by titles peculiar to the New Testa- ment. " When he ascended up on high, he gave some, apostles ; some, prophets ; and some, evangelists ; and some, pastors and teachers. "II Hence St. Paul gives thanks to Jesus Christ, who had enabled him, " for that he counted him faithlul, putting him into the ministry."F 2. It is he who imparts the qualifications which are necessary for the effectual discharge of their office : " And the grace of our Lord was exceeding abundant with faith and love which is in Christ Jesus."** All that love to souls, and that regard to the advancement of the Divine honour, which are so essential to a Christian minister, proceed from him. Ministerial talents are his gift. The continual supplies of grace which are requisite in the whole course of the Christian ministry proceed from him : " The supply of the Spirit of Clirist * Dan. xii. 3. t Rev. xii. 1. t Zech. iv. 10. § Matt, xxiii- 34 II Ephes. iv. 8, 11. U 1 Tim. i. 12. ** 1 Tim. i. 14. 198 CHRIST'S CARE OVER CHURCHES AND MINISTERS. Jesus:"* "There are diversities of administrations, but the same Lord."' 3. They are, with all their concerns, at his absolute disposal. He, by the secret arrangements of his providence, appoints " the bound of their habitation," and allots their respective fields of labour, not unfrequently in a manner entirely foreign from their expectation ; so he assigns them the measure of their success, setting before them on various occasions " an open door, which no man can shut."t (Speak of the angel of the church of Philadelphia.) II. The import of his walking in the midst of the golden candlesticks. 1. It imports an accurate inspection of the state [of every church,] both as a society and as individuals, " I know thy works," is a declaration with which he frequently prefaces his admonitory epistles. Nothing in the behaviour of Christian churches escapes his notice, whose " eyes are as a flame of fire." He remarks the attention, or inattention, with which his messages are received ; he observes who are formal and lukewarm, and who fervent and sincere in their worship ; who are diligent in their attendance on the means of grace, and who are glad to avail themselves of trivial excuses for neglecting them. He notices all the difierent degrees of seriousness which professing Christians bring into the divine service. There is not a sigh from the contrite, not a tear of penitential sorrow, or of tender joy, that escapes his notice. " He looks not at outward appearances, but at the heart." He perceives the difference between those churches which have left their " first love," and those who are diligently pressing on to perfec- tion ; between those that are indifferent to the extension of his kingdom, and those who are incessantly labouring and praying for its enlarge- ment ; those who decline to the paths of error, and " hold the doctrine which he hates," and those who " hold fast the form of sound words." 2. His walking among them implies that his business, so to speak, lies in the management of his churches. It is his " building," his " husbandry."! The interest of his church is peculiarly his interest, in the maintenance of which his presence and grace are especially exerted. He walks among the churches as a proprietor in his field. He superintends the affairs of the world, but always with a view to the enlargement and prosperity of his church. The church is his mystical body, with which he is most intimately and inseparably united. He rules the world by his sceptre, but he gladdens the churcli by his presence. The former consists only of his subjects, this of his brethren and sisters. 3. His walking among them denotes the complacency he takes in them. Something of complacency seems to be implied in this expres- sion, "I will set my tabernacle among you: and my soul shall not abhor you. And I will walk among you, and will be your God, and ye shall be my people. "i^ (Apply the whole.) • Philip, i. 19. t Rev. iii. 8. t 1 Cor. Ui. 9. ^ Lev. xxvi. 11, 12. NO TEMPLE IN HEAVEN. • 199 XLI. NO TEMPLE IN HEAVEN. . Rev. xxi. 22. — And I saw no temple therein : for the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are the temple of it. This book contains a prophecy of the state of the church from tlie time in which it was communicated to the consummation of all things. It includes the principal revolutions to which it was to be subject, and the assaults it was to sustain, during a series of ages, from the time of John to the end of the world. The chapter out of which my text is taken is, with great probability, considered as a description of the heavenly world. In the chapter preceding, we have a striking descrip- tion of the day of judgment. "And I saw a great white throne, and him that sat on it, from whose face the earth and the heaven fled away ; and there was found no place for them. And I saw the dead, small and great, stand before God ; and the books were opened : and another book was opened, which is the book of life : and the dead were judged out of those things which were written in the books, according to their works."* After this, a new heaven and a new earth are described, very similar to the language of Peter : "• For we look for a new heaven and a nevv earth, in which dwelleth righteousness." The perfection of the state represented here is such as can agree only with the heavenly world. " And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes ; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain : for the former things are passed away."t Amoug the other privileges, access to the tree of life is specified, evidently denoting a state of immortality. " Blessed are they that do his commandments, that they may have right to the tree of life, and may enter in through the gates into the city."J Considering this as a description of the heavenly state, we shall first endeavour to point out the meaning and import of this declaration, and next attempt some practical improvement. I. Let us endeavour to point out the meaning and import of this declaration, — " I saw no temple therein," &c. 1. It cannot be intended to insinuate that heaven will not be a state of devotion. It is in every part of the word of God, and in this book in particular, represented as a state of the highest and most exalted devotion.^ Devotion will then be carried to its highest perfection. The absence of the temple does not denote the absence of devotion : as it is the noblest employment of creatures here, it is impossible to suppose it will be neglected in the heavenly world. 2. Nor is it intended to intimate that there will not be most glorious and supernatural manifestations of God in that state. Having the * Rev. XX. 11, 12. t Rev. xxi. 4. i Rev. xxii. 14. ^ Rev. xv. 2, 3; xiv. 2, 3. 200 • . NO TEMPLE IN HEAVEN. glory of God is a most distinguishing part of its description. The peculiar presence of God is announced as one of its peculiar privileges.* " Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell amoncr them." Contrasting the present with the future state, the apostle says, " Now we see through a glass darkly, but then face to face : then shall I see as I am seen, and know as I am known." The import of this declaration may probably be expressed in the following particulars. There will be no place in the celestial world distinguished by peculiar tokens of the Divine presence above others. (1.) A temple is a building set apart exclusively for the honour of God, where he was accustomed to manifest his presence in a visible symbol, in distinction from other places. The ancient temple was divided into three compartments. The court, at the door of which stood the brazen altar of burnt-offering. To this the victims were brought, and the Israelitish people had access. The second was the court of the priests, at the farthest end of which stood, on one side, the golden altar of incense, and on the other the table of the shew-bread. This it was the prerogative of the priests only to enter. It was styled, in distinction from the other, " the Holy Place." The third was the Sanctum Sanctorum, or " Holy of Holies," where was placed the mercy-seat, surrounded on each side by the cherubim, whose wings were stretched out so as to cover it ; and upon it the Supreme Being manifested himself in a visible glory, like a king sitting upon his throne. Hence he was invoked by the saints of old, as " he that sat between the cherul)im." This, which was the inmost recess of the temple, was the chamber of audience, and the place of the oracle. And to this the high-priest only had access, once a year, upon the great day of the atonement, which was the tenth of the seventh month. No other part of the Holy Land was ordinarily favoured with similar manifestations. As it was the peculiar distinction of the temple at Jerusalem, it conferred a [specific] sanctity on the place, whence it was styled the Holy City. In heaven, the presence of God will not be restricted to a particular place : it will diffuse itself everywhere ; in consequence of which the whole will become holy. There will be no part of it consecrated as a local temple, because the whole will be a temple. As it is said of the sun that the city will have no need of it, because the Lord God will enlighten it, and the Lamb be the light thereof; so it will be with respect to a temple. 'J'he whole will be so illuminated with the glory of God, so adorned with the most impressive exhibitions of his august presence, that there will be no distinction possessed by any part above another. Every region of it will be equally replete with the glory of God, which is the [thing] chiefly meant by the latter clause of the text, — " The Lord God Almighty and the Lamb will be the temple thereof." The inhabitants will have no occasion to remove from one place to another, or to approach to a particular spot, in order to [behold] the glory of God ; but where they [are, they] will be alike sensible of his presence, and equally awed and transported by it. None will have * Rev. xxi. 3. NO TEMPLE IN HEAVEN. . • 201 occasion to adopt the language of the devout Psalmist, and say, " When shall I come and appear before God V for they shall always appear before him alike ; " they shall continually behold his face, and serve him day and tiight in his temple." In the passage just now quoted, we find mention made of a temple ; which is perlectly consistent with the declaration of the text, [in which] John declares he saw none. He is now describing heaven itself: in heaven he perceived no temple, no particular place assigned by way of distinction for the worship of God. In the former, he intends to represent heaven itself under the appellation of a temple. (2.) A temple is distinguished by having certain services allotted to it, which it is unlawful to perform elsewhere. Thus, al'ter the temple at Jerusalem was erected, it became criminal to perform certain rites of worship in any other place. The burning of incense and the offering of sacrifice were limited and restrained to that spot.* " Take heed to thyself that thou offerest not thy burnt-oflerings in every place that thou seest ; but in the place which the Lord shall choose in one of thy tribes, there shalt thou offer thy burnt-oflerings, and there shalt thou do all that I command thee." " Thou mayst not eat within thy gates the tithe of thy corn, or of thy oil, or of thy vine, or of the firstling of thy herds, or of thy flock, nor any of the vows which thou vowest, jior thy free-will offerings, or heave oflerings of thy hand; but thou must eat them before the Lord thy God in the place which the Lord thy God shall choose." No distinction will subsist between the difl^erent mansions in our heavenly Father's house. As all will be equally holy, the same modes of worship will pervade the whole ; and whatever will be suitable to one place will be suitable to all. In this sense, John saw no temple. (3.) During the continuance of the temple, regular sacred seasons were appointed at which all the males of the nation were commanded to appear before God. Three times a-year, all the male part of the nation was ordered to present themselves before God at Jerusalem, the place which he chose to record his name. These periods were, the feast of the passover, the feast of pentecost, and the feast of taber- nacles, or of in-gathering at the close of the year. Besides these solemn anniversaries, there were certain hours of prayer, mentioned in the tliird chapter of Acts, at which devout men were wont to frequent the temple, to present their supplications to God : these were the third, the sixth (corresponding to our noon), and the ninth hour. In the heavenly world, no distinction of sacred times and seasons \v\\\ be known : no weekly rest, no annual solemnities, will be longer recognised ; the devotion of hs blessed inhabitants will be one eternal Sabbath. " There remaineth a rest" (« keeping of Sabbath), saith St. Paul, " for the people of God." Here the pious look forward with delight to the recurrence of the sacred day, when they may dismiss all earthly cares, and devote themselves more immediately to the service of the Most High : " I was glad when they said unto me. Let us go up unto the house of the Lord. Our feet shall stand in thy courts, 0 Jerusalem !" * Deut. xvi. 5 ; xv. 20 ; xii. 13. 202 • NO TEMPLE IN HEAVEN. (4.) This declaration is probably intended to intimate that devotion •will no longer form a distinct part of the employment of the heavenly world, but that it will be intimately incorporated with all their actions and sentiments. In the present condition of our being, so many wants arise from the body, so many necessities of a worldly nature to be provided for, that it is but a small part of their time that many can devote to the offices of religion. We have two worlds with which we are concerned — the world that now is, and that which is to come ; and these give birth to two distinct interests — the interests of the body and those of the soul. Though the latter are infinitely the most important, the former cannot, and ought not, to be neglected : they demand a large portion of our exertions, and with too many absorb the whole of their attention and solicitude. " What shall we eat, and what shall we drink, and wherewidial shall we be clothed ?" is the general inquiry. Truly holy persons employ their hands upon the world, and set their hearts on heaven ; but even these find it difiicult, amid the distractions and cares of the present state, to keep their aftections set upon the things that are above. Their souls too often cleave unto the dust, and their hearts are sometimes overcharged. Nothing of that nature will be experienced there : " God will be all in all." No wants will there remain to be supplied, no dangers to be averted, no provision to be made for futurity. The contemplation and enjoyment of the Great Eternal will present an ample occupation of the mind for ever and ever. It may seem, in our present dark and imperfect state, difficult to conceive how the exercises of the mind and heart on the blessed God can employ an eternity. But we must remember that the object is infinite ; that the creation is but an atom, or a point, compared to the immensity of his being and perfections ; and if, in the survey and ex- amination of the creation, the mind feels such ample scope, we need not wonder if its great Author supply an infinitely wider range of operation, when he lays himself open to the view of his creatures, and permits them to " see him as he is." When we possess an immediate and intuitive view of his nature and excellences, and no longer see him "through a glass darkly, but face to face," no doubt the powers of the soul will find full employment, without danger of feeling itself straitened in him, " who is all in all." There are probably faculties in the soul which are here either not apparent at all, or are very imperfectly developed. Among these, the powers of action and con- templation will be perfectly combined : the exercise of the reason will not interfere with that of the heart ; but we shall be capable of feeling all the ecstasies of devotion, in conjunction with mental operations, with which it is at present scarcely compatible. We shall not worsliip at one time, and at another be engaged in active pursuits and employ- ments ; but, while we burn with the highest ardours of devotion, we shall be capable of doing the will of God, of executing those mysterious purposes which it is his wish we should accomplish. The pursuit of truth, the enjoyment of good, and the actual business of life require distinct portioiis of time. Wliile the soul is intensely NO TEMPLE IN HEAVEN. ' 203 employed in comparing its ideas, ilie movements of the heart languish, or are suspended. It is very difficuh, in the present state, to be ardent and speculative, — for the understanding and the heart to be both intensely engaged ; but this is owing to the limitation of our capacity. It is incident to a state of imperfection, which we may easily suppose will be done away. For a similar reason, the active pursuits of life are scarcely com- patible with the attainment of knowledge. In our present gross, corporeal state, the effort necessary lo keep up the animal machine in a state of intense exertion exhausts the vigour of the mind, and leaves little room for the powerful exercise of the reason. In eternity, we may readily conceive it will be otherwise : this inert and sluggish body will be replaced by a spiritual body ; motion will be performed without fatigue ; the body will be a fit instrument for executing the purposes of the soul. At present, the occupations in which we are engaged have no imme- diate relation to the Deity ; tliey are capable of being sanctified only by a general intention of pleasing God, while it is impossible to advert incessantly to his presence, or to make him the immediate object of our thought. In eternity, the capacity wdl be so enlarged and extended that the idea of God will be incessantly impressed, the beams of his glory will perpetually penetrate the heart, and the fire ,of love will never cease to burn upon the altar. Improvement. I. How impossible for undevout persons to be fitted for heaven ; how impossible for them to relish its employments or enjoyments. II. How anxious should we be to improve the seasons of devotion and the means of grace as a preparation for heaven. III. What a well-founded hope of heaven may they indulge who feel a supreme delight in the exercises of religion. Such are evidently ripening for an invisible and eternal state. IV. Hence we perceive the exact correspondence of the employment of the heavenly world to the taste and disposition of real Christians.* * Preached at Leicester, Sunday morning, August 13, 1815. LETTERS. LETTERS. I. TO THE BAPTIST CHURCH, BROADMEAD, BRISTOL. Old Aberdeen, King's College, Dec. 4, 1783,* Dear and honoured Brethren, I DULY received your affectionate letter, in which you expressed your desire of engaging my labours as an assistant minister. Your request does me honour, and confers upon me an obligation which no efforts of mine can fully discharge. Yet, young and inexperienced as I am, I tremble to think of engaging in so arduous a work, especially in a situation where all my incapacity will be doubly felt. I cannot but think a few years would be necessary to enable me to gratify the lowest expectations. To plunge into the midst of life at so tender an age, with so little experience and so small a stock of knowledge, almost terrifies me. Your candid judgment of my past services I acknowledge with a mixture of pleasure and surprise, — pleased to attain the appro- bation of the wise and good, and surprised I in any measure have attained it, which I can attribute to nothing but the tenderness and forbearance which have ever strongly marked your conduct. A retired and private sphere would indeed be more upon a level with my abilities, and congenial to my temper ; yet I would willingly sacrifice my private inclinations to more important views, and lose sight of myself if 1 could benefit others. My reluctance, therefore, to obey your call arises merely from a feeling of my weakness, and my secret fear lest you should hereafter have occasion to repent it. If you could have dispensed with my labours till the final close of my studies, I might then have hoped to have been more able to serve you ; but if not, I submit. Let me but crave your prayers, that as my day so my strength may be. Your welAire, honoured brethren, will ever lie near my heart; numberless reflections concur with a thousand tender recollections of past kindness to keep it there. But these are not my only inducements to embrace your proposals. It is an addi- tional pleasure to me when I reflect with whom I have the honour to be connected, — with one whom I most sincerely reverence, and to whom I am bound by every tie of affection and gratitude.f I hope I * Mr. Hall was at this time in his twentieth year. t Dr. Caleb Evans, 208 LETTERS. undertake this work in the fear of God, and look forward to that awful day when all these solemn transactions shall be reviewed, and every secret motive that entered into them will be brought to light. Wish- ing you, dear brethren, all prosperity, and that you may be " steadfast ia that day," I subscribe myself yours, &c. Robert Hall, Jun. II. TO THE REV. ISAIAH BIRT, PLYMOUTH. Dear Sir, Cambridge, Feb. 5, 179L I have frequently thought it something remarkable, that you and I have had an intimate acquaintance for many years, and yet that we have scarcely exchanged a letter. Our frequent occasional interviews have formerly rendered this less necessary; but now that I shall prob- ably be settled in a distant situation, and an opportunity of seeing each other may seldom occur, I cannot satisfy myself without requesting a stated correspondence. You will excuse my earnestness to solicit this, when you recollect that it is the effect of that fixed and well- founded esteem I always did and always shall bear you. I will communicate to you, not the incidents of the day or of the week, for my time at present slides away without incident, but the inward sentiments of my heart, and the trifles, serious or gay, that spring up there ; happy if I can imagine for a moment I am conversing with you as we did in the days of yore, when, without care or sorrow, we saun- tered in the fields near Bristol. Ah, happy days, never to return again ! I am at present at Cambridge, in the element of peace at least, if not of happiness ; and indeed, after the tumults of strife and din of parties, quiet itself seems happiness. * *#■*##«# Perhaps you may wish to be informed of some particulars relating to my present situation. It is, on the whole, happy. The people seem very harmonious, and much united to me. I could wish their sentiments were more orthodox, though the far greater part of them are sufficiently so. They wlio are not seem very ready to hear cool, dispassionate reasoning on the other side of the question. I liave tried their pulse several times since I have been here. On the first Sabbath of my arrival, I preached in the morning on Heb. ix. 13 — " How much more sball the blood of Christ, Avho, through the eternal Spirit, oflered himself without spot to God," &c. — an entirely controversial sermon in defence of the atonement. I had the satisfaction of finding few, very few, who did not acknowledge the justice of my reflections, and that they who were not convinced were not displeased. I should be happy if Provideiice should make nie an humble instrument of with- LETTERS. 209 Standing the dangerous errors that are in vogue, and of preventing or lessening their growth at least, in the place where Providence may appoint my lot. I intend very soon to preach a sermon professedly on the divinity of Jesus Christ. This and the atonement I am more and more convinced lie at the foundation of the true system of vital religion ; nor will sinners ever be converted to God by a ministry that excludes them. I hope I am not censorious ; but I am persuaded that much of the liberality so much talked of is rather a fashionable cant than any genuine candour of heart. At present I am a boarder, and shall continue so, in case I should stay here, for some time. I have free access to all the libraries gratis, by means of acquaintance in the university. Pray write soon, very soon. I am yours affectionately, Robert Hall. III. ACCEPTING THE PASTORAL CHARGE OF THE BAPTIST CHURCH AT CAMBRIDGE. To the Church lately under the pastoral care of Mr, Robinson : Dear Brethren, I am truly sensible of the honour you have done me in inviting me to the pastoral office among you. I am convinced of my inability adequately to discharge its arduous duties ; but relying on your can- dour and the hopes of superior assistance, I will attempt it to the best of my power, and beg an interest in your prayers, that my endeavours for your spiritual improvement may be succeeded, and that I may be able to commend myself to every man's conscience in the sight of God- I remain your affectionate friend and brother, Robert Hall. Cambridge, July 23, 1791. IV. TO MISS WILKINS, AFTERWARD MRS. FYSH, OF CAMBERWELL. Dear Madam, I hope you will excuse the liberty that friendship dictates, of sending you these lines. The interest you possess in the affections of your friends, and their solicitude for vour happiness, render it impossible Vol. HL— O 210 LETTERS. they should hear of your affliction without deeply sympathizing with you. Among these I beg leave to have the honour of classing myself; and though least, not last. I was the other day at Mr. W 's, and was informed you still continued extremely indisposed. I immediately deter- mined to take the liberty of writing, to express my esteem and sympathy. I upbraid myself heavily for not having snatched an opportunity of seeing you before I left Bristol ; and had I foreseen the prolongation of your illness, I certainly would not have omitted it. From me, who have suffered so much, it would be unpardonable if distress of every kind did not extort a tear, — much more when the sufferer is a friend whose virtues and talents I respect and admire. This world is indeed a scene of suffering ; and it ought, in some measure, to reconcile us to our lot, that in feeling distress we strike chords in unison with the whole universe. Adversity is capricious in its times and seasons ; but its visitations, sooner or later, never fail. In some, it overwhelms the first hopes of life, so that they no sooner begin to taste felicity in prospect, than they are crossed with hopeless disappointment : others it permits to advance further, waits till they spread the foundations of happiness deep and wide, that, just when they have nearly finished the superstructure, it may overwhelm them with a more extensive desolation. Some are racked with pains and agonies of body ; and others are preys to disappointed passions and blasted hopes, wasted with devouring regrets, and sick at heart with melancholy retrospects ; wishing in vain they could arrest the wings of time, and put the current of life back. Of all these classes, every individual thinks his misfor- tunes the greatest. For the same reason we are never at a loss to hear our own voice, be it ever so slender : the cry of a pierced heart sounds shrill in the solitary ear of the sufferer. Since we cannot essentially meliorate, let us endeavour to allay, our anguish by mod- erating our expectations. I am persuaded all we can reasonably hope for on this side the grave is tranquillity, — not the insensibility of a statue, but the placidity of a well-informed mind, relying on the promises and cheering prospects of immortality. But why do I thus address one who is as well acquainted with every subject of Christian consolation as I can pretend to [be ?] I am persuaded you will edify your friends as much by your patience in affliction as you have enlivened tliem in better days by the exercise of your sprightlier powers. Virtue is always consistent, and guided by its dictates you will never fail to be an example. This scene of sufl'ering will not always last, nor do we suffer " as those without hope." It is, indeed, the night of nature, a short night, and not utterly dark : it will soon pass away, and be suc(;eeded by a bright and endless day. ^neas comforts his companions in the midst of distress, by telling them that the retrospect of their sufferings will hereafter be delightful to them. Whether we shall in this world be indulged with such a satisfaction I know not ; but surely it will be a source of the most pleasing reflection in a happier world. Of Bishop Leighton, whose sermons I wish you to read. Bishop Burnet declares, that during a strict intimacy of many years, he never LETTERS. 211 saw him for one moment in any other temper than that in which he should wish to live and die : and if any human composition could form such a character, it must be his own. Full of the richest imagery, and breathing a spirit of the most sublime and unaffected devotion, the reading him is a truce to all human cares and human passions i and I can compare it to nothing but the beautiful representation in the twenty- third Psalm — it is like " lying down in green pastures, and by the side of still waters." Cambridge, 1791. V. TO MRS. FYSH, OF CAMBERWELL, ON THE DEATH OF HER SISTER, SIRS. PARSONS* My dear Friend, Cambridge, August 14, 1796. Permit me to express the deep interest I take in your distress, from the loss of the best of friends and the best of sisters, in the loss of dear Mrs. Parsons. How many losses are united! She- has left a husband to lament the most lovely of wives, you the most endeared of sisters, the church of Christ one of its brightest ornaments, and the world one of its fairest examples : all, all have fallen a victim in this most excellent woman. I have not met with any event for many years that has affected me at all equally. Had I been permitted to draw aside the mysterious veil that hides futurity ; could I have had any presentiments I saw her at for the last time, how solemn would have been the moments, how awfully interesting my emotions ! I pity her husband — I pity her sisters : this is a stroke which must be severely felt in the tenderest manner. I know the heart when recently wounded must be indulged in the luxury of grief; and if there ever was an occasion which could justify the most poignant regret, it is the present, in which we lament the loss of so much excellence. But I hope you will by degrees inure your imagination to dwell less on your loss, and more on her happiness. What a glorious display of the power of Christianity! what a triumphant departure! O, that I may die the death of Mrs. Parsons, and that my last end may be like hers ! Her life was an ornament to Christianity — a pattern to her sex. Immor- tality dawned on her enraptured mind, even before it quitted its earthly abode ; and her pure and elevated soul made an easy transit to the society of the blessed. Her career was short, but illustrious ; and she crowded into her little sphere the virtues of a long life. Short as her continuance was upon earth, she was permitted to exemplify the duties of every character, and to imprint, in indelible characters, on the 02 212 LETTERS. memories of all who were honoured with her acquaintance, the perfec- tions of a friend, a sister, a mother, and a wife. It is true, she has slept the sleep of death ; but she sleeps in Jesus : she has gone before you into the holy of holies : she will meet you at the great rendezvous of being, the assembly of the just ; and, in the mean time, instead of being an object oi your pity, probably looks down upon you with ineflable tenderness and compassion. I have seen, besides your letter, one from Mrs. Gutteridge ; and I must say, I never heard, on the whole, of so calm, so triumphant a death : it seemed as if she had been permitted to step into heaven before her final departure, that she might thenceaddressherself to her friends with more serenity, dignity, and effect. What, my dear friend, besides Christianity, can thus scatter the horrors of the soul I What else could enable a young lady, in the bloom of life, with a prosperous fortune, beloved by a husband, endeared to her friends, and esteemed by the whole world, to triumph in the thoughts of dissolution 1 Divine Christianity ! it is thine only to comfort and support the languishing and dying. I hope all Mrs. Parsons' numerous acquaintance will be properly impressed with this singular dispensation of Providence. Let them ask themselves whether the loose skeptical principles of the age are at all adapted to such a scene ; whether they have any thing in them that will enable them to exert th^; calm heroism displayed in the most trying moment by this departed excellence. Let me hope some one, at least will be impressed by this wonderful example of the power of religion. Death has made frequent visits to your family ; the youngest is now snatched away. Mr. Beddome, poor Richard Beddome, and now Mrs. Parsons ; in how short a time they have followed each other ! I find your dear deceased sister expressed her anxiety at the progress of Deism with her last breath. To a serious mind it affords a most melancholy prospect : but you must observe it does not seize the mind at once ; it advances by the progressive stages of Socinianism and dissipation. Men first lose their relish for what is vital and distinguish- ing in Christianity, before they dispute its evidences, or renounce its authority. Lax notions of the person of Christ, a forgetfulness of his mediation, place the mind in a deistical state, and prepare it for the most licentious opinions. The consolations of your dear deceased sister did not result from a general belief of the doctrine of immortality, in which the Socinians place the whole of revelation ; but in specific views of Christ as a Saviour, and the prospect of being for ever with him. My dear friend, let us hold fast this kind of Christianity, without wavering, as the antidote of death. Excuse this freedom, which results not from any suspicion of your own defection, but from a friendly concern for some for whom we both retain the sincerest regards. IMy paper forbids me to add more. Present my most affectionate respects to Mr. Fysh, and accept the same yourself, from Your affectionate and sympathizing Friend, RoBERt Hall. LETTERS. 213 VI. TO THE REV. JAMES PHILLIPS, HAVERFORDWEST. My dear Friend. Cambridge, June 7, 1799. How could you suspect for a moment that 1 wished to dissolve my friendship with you, a friendship which I have always esteemed a dis- tinguished honour and happiness? No, my dear friend. My long silence is indeed inexcusable ; but impute it to any cause, and you will do me more justice than by suspecting my diminution of regard. My aversion to letter-writing you are well acquainted with. I formed many resolutions to surmount it : but, in the moment of trial, am baffled. I sincerely sympathize with you in the loss of your child ; but, my dear friend, do not suffer your spirits to sink. Remember the tenure on which all human enjoyments are held, the wisdom and sovereignty of their great Author, and the gracious promise afforded to true Christians, that " all things shall work together for good to them that love him." Remember the many blessings with which a kind Providence still indulges you. Ought you not to rejoice that your affectionate companion in life is spared ; and that, though your child is snatched from your embraces, he has escaped from a world of sin and sorrow ? The stamp of immortality is placed on his happiness, and he is encircled by the arms of a compassionate Redeemer. Had he been permitted to live, and you had witnessed the loss of his virtue, you might have been [reserved] to suffer still severer pangs. A most excellent couple in our congregation are now melancholy spectators of a son dying, at nineteen years of age, by inches, a victim to his vices. They have frequently regretted he did not die several years since, when his life was nearly despaired of, in a severe fever. " Who knoweth what is good for a man all the days of this his vain life, Avhich he spends as a shadow ?" Many interesting scenes have occurred since our interview. About six months ago, I was attacked by a violent fever ; and in my own apprehensions, for about two days was on the borders of eternity. I never before felt my mind so calm and happy. Filled with the most overwhelming sense of my own unworthiness, my mind was supported merely by a faith in Christ crucified. I would not for the world have parted with that text, " The blood of Christ cleanseth from all sin." I never before saw such a beauty and grandeur in the way of salvfition by the death of Christ, as on that occasion. I am fully persuaded the evangelical doctrines alone are able to support the mind in the near views of death and judgment. May you and I be more and more grounded in a conviction of their truth, and acquainted with their power ! It is to these doctrines the revelation of Christ is chiefly indebted for its efficacy in the hearts and lives of men. 214 LETTERS. VII. TO THE REV. JAMES PHILLIPS. My dear Friend, Cambridge, Feb. 14, 1801. I have long purposed to write to you, and should have done so, but from that unhappy reluctance to writing which is almost a part of my nature. I hope you will do me the justice to believe it did not arise from any abatement of love and esteem. But a truce to apologies. I am heartily glad to find you have preached at Claphara, where I hope you will find much to comfort you in the opportunity of doing good ; for we can be truly happy but in proportion as we are the in- struments of promoting the happiness of others. From what little I have heard of the people, you will meet kind and respectful treatment ; but there will be much to damp your zeal, against which, I doubt not, you will be upon your guard. You will have pleasing society ; and the vicinity to London has many advantages. May we, my dear friend, " work while it is to-day, for the hour is shortly coming when we can work no longer." ******** Mr, Hill, by whom you sent your letter, just called in the morning, but could not make any stay. He seemed an agreeable, sensible man. If you should see Mr. Rowland Hill, present my Christian respects to him, though unknown, and assure him it would give me uncommon pleasure to see and hear him at Cambridge, and that I shall think myself much honoured by hearing him preach in my pulpit. I went into the vestry and spoke to him about two years ago, in Surrey Chapel; but he did not recollect me, and I felt a reluctance to make so free as to mention my name, and therefore only mentioned you as a common friend and retired. He is a man for whom I ever entertained a very high esteem. Whatever a misjudging world may say, such men as these will •' shine as the brightness of the firmament, and as the stars for ever." May my soul, though at an humble distance, be admitted among them ! 1 have just been reading, with very great pleasure, and, I hope, some profit, Orton and Stonehouse's Letters to Stedman. They contain most excellent prudential, moral, and religious instruc- tion ; devout, liberal, rational, yet fervent piety of the stamp of Dodd- ridge, who is now my prime favourite among divines. If you have not seen tliem, they will richly repay your perusal. Dr. Stonehouse and Miss More both lived at Bristol at the time I resided there ; and yet, such was my extreme folly, I never took any means of becoming acquainted with cither of them, which might very easily have been done. " Surely I have been more brutish than any man." What op- portunities of knowledge and improvement have I lost, and have now reached the meridian of life, and am but a child ! I may adopt, with more propriety than any man that ever lived, the prayer, — " Remember not the sins of mv vouth." LETTERS, 215 What strange news is this of Mr. Pitt's leaving the ministry? I am glad of it, though I suppose the men that succeed will persist in the same measures. But a schism in the cabinet bodes ill for the per- manence of the party ; so that I hope the present change is only a prelude to one more important. The present ministry can surely never be permanent. We must have peace, or we are inevitably and speedily ruined. But I hate politics, and have not read a paper above twice tliese nine months ; so that you must not suppose I am very pro- found on these subjects. You have heard, no doubt, of the death of poor Mr. , of , He departed this life, Monday se'nnight, at . He was at dinner at Mr. 's, and was taken with a second apoplectic fit between the two courses, and expired in about two hours. He never spake, except the moment after he was seized ; when, in answer to Mrs. 's inquiry, he said he was poorly. Poor man! he had very little happiness in life, and his last years were very wwhappy. No spirits, no exertion, no usefulness ! I sometimes think it is a mercy I was not a " gentleman parson ;" for with my natural indolence, the temptations of that character would have completed my ruin. " Let us work, my dear friend, while it is called to-day." Pray, have you heard any more about the design of the government to suppress village preaching and Sunday-schools ? Our friends at Clapham were very apprehensive of it some time since, but we hear little of it in the country. Mr. Simeon informed me lately he had litde doubt something of the sort would be attempted. He gave some intimation of the same kind in a sermon he preached to his own peo- ple. Pray inform me of all you have heard about it, for it is an affair which lies with considerable weight on my mind. If there should be any thing done, we shall see dismal times. Do you know whether any thing has been written on the subject 1 Mr. Simeon and I are upon very friendly terms. I lately dined with him at his own rooms, and have repeatedly met him in company, in which the conversation has been very agreeable. The reconciliation was effected principally by the intervention of Mr. Owen, of Fulham, and of Alderman Ind. A paper was drawn up, and signed by each party. We are upon very comfortable terms with the church people at present ; never was less party spirit at Cambridge. I wish I could see more good done, but yet I must not complain. Our congregation is very flourishing, and things wear an agreeable aspect. But my paper admonishes me to close. Pray write to me very soon, if not immediately, and let us see you at Cambridge as early as possible. Remember me respectfully to Mr. Thompson, Miss Wilkinson, Mr. Beddome, &c. I am, dear Sir, Yours constantly, Robert Hall. 81 e LETTERS. VIII. TO THE REV. JAMES PHILLIPS. My dear Friend, Cambridge, May 26, 1801. I thank you for your very kind letter, and for your invitation to pay you an early visit at Clapham. You know, and every one who knows me knows, there is no friend living whom I should be so glad to see as yourself, but am afraid it will not be in my power to gratify this inclination at present. I am just going to see my old friend Kinghorn at Norwich, where I shall be absent one, possibly two, Sabbaths, In the fall of the year I am engaged to visit Bristol, and to go as far as Plymouth; so that I am afraid it will not be in my power to pay my London and Clapham friends a visit this summer. I shall fully expect, however, to see you at Cambridge some time in the summer. It is long since you were here ; and we are anxiously desirous of seeing you, with Mrs. Phillips, to whom I beg to be affectionately remembered. It gives me extreme pleasure to hear of your great acceptance at Clapham. Miss Wilkinson spoke in raptures of you to Mrs. Gut- teridge. The distinguished respect the people have shown you does them much more honour than it can do you. You are intimate, I find, with Mr. Beddome's family. 'Y\\ey are, indeed, a lovely family, truly friendly, liberal, and intelligent : there is no house where 1 spend my t^^me more agreeably in London or the environs. The parcel you sent me consists of a very polite letter from Mr. Roberts, enclosing a copy of verses, elegant, and truly and stricdy poetical, that is, replete with fiction, containing praises whicli my heart compels me to disclaim with a sigh ! O my friend, what an infinity of time I have lost, and how ardendy do T long to do something which shall convince the world I have not lived in vain ! My wishes, in this respect, will, it is to be feared, never be fulfilled. Tranquillity is not my lot. The prey, in early life, of passion and calamity, I am now perfectly devoured with an impatience to redeem time, and to be of some lasting benefit to the world, at least to the church. But this inter nos. You wish me to answer Bishop Horsley. You have seen, probably, Rowland Hill's sermon. I should be little disposed to answer 'HorsXey, or any individual. AVere any thing to be done, it should, in my opinion, enter into the whole matter, containing an ample defence of the liberty of worship, and of the specific efforts of Methodists and dissenters in instructing and evangelizing mankind.* I, some time since, put down some thoughts on this subject ; but whether I shall proceed will depend on the conduct of the government ; as a laboured defence would be, * Soe the Fragmenis on Toleration, ,tc. in Vol. II.— Eb. LETTERS. 2lt probably, impolitic, without a projected attack. Pray come soon to see us. My respects to Mr. Thompson, Miss Wilkinson, Beddomes, Petries, and other friends, as if named. I am, dear Sir, Yours constantly and affectionately, Robert Hall. IX. TO MRS, TUCKER, PLYMOUTH DOCK. Dear Madam, Cambridge, Feb. 18, 1802. I know not what apology to make for having so long neglected to fulfil my part of the mutual promise of correspondence. Impute it to any thing rather than indifference ; for I can assure you, with the utmost sincerity, that your kindness to me while I had the happiness of being under your roof left an impression on my mind of gratitude and esteem which no time can efface. It is doing no sort of justice to my feelings to say that it exceeded any thing of the kind I ever expe- rienced in my life ; and heightens the regret I feel at the probability of few opportunities of personal intercourse with a friend v»'ho has so great a claim to my regard, and in whose welfare I shall always feel myself so deeply interested. When I look back on my past days (alas ! why should I ever look back), the few I spent at Plymouth Dock appear like a bright spot in a dreary prospect. Though my friends at Bristol were disposed to be displeased at my staying so long in Devon- shire, I shall never repent of it, since it afforded me an opportunity of renewing and cementing a virtuous friendship — the only kind of friend- ship that will flourish to eternal ages. Yes, madam, I hope to renew with you the remembrance of my visit to Dock, and of your kindness, before the Throne where distance will no more interrupt the intercourse of kin- dred minds. What a happiness to reflect, though separated here, we are advancing every step nearer to the place of meeting ; and in the mean time we are mingling our addresses at the same mercy-seat, imbibing pleasure at the same spring, and deposing our anxieties in the same compas- sionate bosom. There is a divine reality in the communion of saints, which I pray we may more and more experience. I have just been reading Dr. Whitehead's Life of Mr. Wesley : it has given me a much more enlarged idea of the virtues and labours of that extraordinary man than I ever had before, I would not incur the guilt of that virulent abuse which Toplady cast upon him, for points merely speculative and of very little importance, for ten thousand worlds. When will the Christian world cease disputing about religion, and begin to enter into its spirit, and practise its precepts ? I am attempting to write a vindication of village preaching and of Sunday- schools, but M'hen it will be out I do not know ; I endeavour '« do a little at it every day, but am a slow hand. 218 LETTERS. From several quarters I am given to understand my preaching at Plymouth and Dock gave general dissatisfaction. This intelligence gives me no particular concern, being conscious of my upright inten- tions ; but if it arose in any degree from the practical complexion of my addresses I am sorry, as it indicates a tincture of that antinomian spirit which threatens to deluge the church. ******* I am, dear Madam, Your affectionate friend, Robert Hall. TO MRS. TUCKER. Dear Madam, Shelford, Feb. 14, 1804. In truth I had almost despaired of the honour of ever hearing from you any more : it was therefore no small gratification to me to be indulged once more with a sight of your handwriting. I sincerely sympathize with you, my amiable friend, in the heavy loss you have sustained, in being deprived of so excellent a father, who must have been endeared to you in no ordinary degree, not only by the ties of nature, but by the peculiar tenderness and affection he ever displayed tlirough an intimate and almost uninterrupted intercourse of a long series of years. I know by experience the pang which the loss of an affectionate parent produces, though under circumstances which possi- bly might render the blow somewhat less severe than that which you sustain. For many years previous to the death of my most excellent father, my situation had permitted me but little opportunity of inter- course, which, though it did not in the least impair my esteem or reve- rence, probably diminished that tenderness and vehemence of attachment which virtuous children never fail to feel towards the deserving parents with whom they reside. Allowing, however, for this difference, I well know the desolating, the withering sensation which pervades the heart on the loss of an affectionate father. We feel, with a conviction as instantaneous as lightning, that the loss is irreparable, — that the void can never be supplied, and that, however many amiable and excellent friends we may have left, there is none who will so naturally care for our souls. I can most easily conceive, therefore, and most tenderly sympathize witli, the sorrow which so great a blow must inflict on so tender a heart. The aids of reason and religion may inspire resigna- tion ; but nothing but the torrent of time will wear away the traces of sorrow, and leave in the heart a tender and not an afflicting remem- brance. It is needless, to a mind so vigorous as yours, to recall to your remembrance the many sources of gratitude which remain in the midst of your iiffliction, and the great alleviations which accompany it. LETTERS. 219 Tou will reflect, I am persuaded, with gratitude, on the great number of years your dear father was spared to you ; you will remember the moral impossibility of his continuing to enjoy, at so advanced [an age,] many additional years of happiness on earth ; and, what will afford you the truest consolation, you will follow him within the veil, and con- template him resting from his labours, and sitting down with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob in the kingdom of God. How infinitely indebted, my amiable friend, are we to that gospel which gives us everlasting consolation, and a good hope through grace ! May He who alone has immediate access to the heart calm every agitation, and solace every disquietude of your breast ! My excellent friend will not, I am per- suaded, abandon herself to immoderate sorrow. I trust, at least, you will be extremely upon your guard against indulging that luxury of grief, as it has been termed, which, however congenial to the extreme sensibility of your temper, would disqualify you alike for happiness and duty. Your domestic station will, happily for you, afford that occupa- tion and diversion to your thoughts which will have a powerful tend- ency to moderate the excesses of grief. ******** I am, dear Madam, Yours most sincerely and respectfully, Robert Hall. XL TO MR. HEWITT FYSH, CAMBERWELL, ON THE DKATH OF MRS. FYSH, My dear Friend, Shelford, March 11, 1804. I deeply sympathize with you in the great loss you have sustained by the decease of your most excellent wife. It is a stroke which will be long felt by all her surviving friends ; how much more by a person with whom she was so long and so happily united ! There are many considerations, however, which must occur to your mind, in alleviation of your distress. The dear deceased had long been rendered incapa- ble by the severity of her affliction of enjoying life ; and a further extension of it would have been but a prolongation of wo. Much as her friends must regret her loss, to have been eagerly solicitous for her continuance here would have been a refined selfishness, rather than true friendship. She was spared for the kindest purposes ; to exem- plify the power of religion in producing a cheerful resignation to the will of God, through a long series of suffering, to a degree which I never saw equalled in any other instance. There was the faith and patience of the saints. Her graces were most severely tried, and surely never did any shine brighter. The most active and zealous services in religion could not have yielded more glory to God than the dignified 220 LETTERS. composure, the unruffled tranquillity, and the unaltered sweetness she maintained amid her trials. 0, my dear friend, let the image of her virtues be ever impressed on your heart, and ever improved as an incen- tive to that close walk with God which laid the foundation of all her excellence. To have had an opportunity of contemplating the influence of genuine religion so intimately, and under so interesting a form, is a privilege which falls to the lot of few, and is surely one of the most inestimable advantages we can possess. That she was spared to you so long — tliat her patience continued unexhausted amid so severe a pressure — and, above all, that you have so well-grounded an assurance of her happiness, must fill you with a grateful sense of the Divine good- ness. This state is designed to be a mingled scene, in which joy and sorrow, serenity and storms, take their turns. A perpetuity of either would be unsuitable to us. An uninterrupted series of prosperity would fill us with worldly passions. An unbroken continuity of adversity would unfit us for exertion. The spirit would fail before him, and the souls which he hath made. Pain and pleasure, scenes of satisfaction and sorrow, are admirably attempered with each other ; so as to give us constant room for thankfulness, and yet to remind us that this is not oitr rest. Our dear and invaluable friend has entered into the world of perfect spirits, to which she made so near an approach during her continuance here. To a mind so refined, and exercised in the school of affliction, so resigned to the Divine will, and so replete with devotion and benevolence, how easy and delightful was the transition ! To her to live was Christ, and to die was gain. Let us improve this dispensa- tion of Providence by imitating her example ; let us cherish her memory with reverential tenderness ; and consider it as an additional call to all we have received before to seek the things that are above. I confess the thought of so dear a friend having left this world makes an abate- ment of its value in my estimation, as I doubt not it will still more in yours. The thought of my journey to London gives me little or no pleasure : for I shall hear the accents of that voice which so naturally expressed the animation of benevolence — I shall behold that counte- nance which displayed so many amiable sentiments — no more. But can we wish her back? Can we wish to recall her from that blissful society which she has joined, and where she is singing a new song? No, my dear friend ! — you will not be so selfish. You will, I trust, aspire with greater ardour than ever after the heavenly world, and be daily imploring fresh supplies of that grace which will fit you for an everlasting union with our deceased friend. I hope her amiable nieces will profit by this expressive event. And as they have (blessed be God for it !) begun to seek after Sion with their faces thitherward, that they will walk forward with additional firmness and alacrity. I shall make little or no stay in London on my first journey ; but, as I long to see you, will spend the 11th instant (that is, the evening preceding my engagement to preach) at your house, if agreeable. I shall be glad to see Mr. Dore, but pray do not ask strangers. I am your sympathizing friend, KoBKUT Hall, LETTERS. 22l XII. TO DR. GREGORY. ORIGIN AND OBJECT OF THE ECLECTIC REVIEW. Foulmire {near Cambridge), Oct. 30, 1804. My dear Friend, You have probably heard of the project of a new Review, called the Eclectic Review, which is intended to counteract the irreligious bias which seems to attach to almost all literary journals. Whether a sufficient number of persons of real talents can be procured to give it permanent credit and support, appears to me very doubtful. Mr. Greathead has written to request my assistance, and I intend occa- sionally to write in it. I have at the same time taken the liberty to mention Mr. Gregory, as a person admirabl)'' adapted to conduct the mathematical and astronomical department, if he can be persuaded. Mr. Greathead has accordingly requested me to write to you on this subject, and to assure you that your assistance will be most welcome, and the terms your own. I really think a review of the kind pro- posed would be a public benefit : as the cause of piety and moderate or- thodoxy stands no chance at present. Will you permit me to inform Mr. Greathead, to whom it is left to treat with writers, that you are willing to contribute to it in the line of mathematics and natural philosophy ? XIII. TO WILLIAM HOLLICK, ESQ. OF WHITTLESFORD, NEAR CAMBRIDGE. ON HIS OWN RECOVERY FROM A SEVERE MALADY. My dear Friend, Lticester, Feb. 26, 1805. I thought it would be some satisfaction lo you to hear that I con-^ tinue, through the blessing of God, perfectly well. My health, through Divine mercy, was never better ; nor can I be sufficiently thankful to that good Providence which has recovered me from the gates of death. Motives for gratitude crowd in upon me on every side ; and the most I have to complain of is, that my heart is so little alive to their im- pression. When, my dear sir, we look back upon past life, what a series of evidences present themselves of a presiding and parental care ! With what propriety may we adopt the language of David : " Bless the 322 LETTERS. Lord, O my soul ; and all that is within me, bless his holy name ; who forgiveth all thine iniquities, who healeth all thy diseases, who redeemeth thy life from destruction, who crowneth thee wiih loving" kindness and with tender mercies !" I am more and more convinced that nothing deserves to be called life that is not devoted to the service of God ; and that piety is the only true wisdom. But, alas ! how difficult it is to get these lessons deeply impressed on the heart, and wrought into the whole habit of the mind ! I have not yet been at Arnsby, but shall go there in a day or two, and propose to spend about ten days there ; and shall probably visit Cambridge in little more than a fortnight. My spirits are rather low ; but my mind is composed, and in some measure resigned to the leading and conduct of Divine Providence. The narrow bounds of my experience have furnished me with such a conviction of the vanity of this world, and the illusion of its prospects, that I indulge no eager hopes. If God enables me to do some little good, and preserves me from great calamities, it Avill be enough, and infinitely more than I deserve ; for I have been, in the most emphatic sense of the word, " an unprofitable servant." ******** I am, my dear Sir, Yours affectionately, Robert Hall. XIV. TO DR. GREGORY. ON THE CERTAINTY ATTENDING RELIGIOUS KNOWLEDGE. My dear Friend, Foulmire, Sept. 4, 1805. Let me beg you will not impute my long silence to a diminution of esteem or affection. It arose simply from my being conscious of my utter inability to make any such reply to your letter as should be in the least degree satisfactory. The subject on wiiich you have touched in your last is so unspeakably intricate, that the more I have reflected upon it, the more I have seemed to feel myself losi and perplexed. Of all the problems proposed to the human understanding, the inquiry respecting the certainty of the objects of human knowledge seems the most dilhcult of solution. If the ideal theory of Locke be true, and there be no resemblance between the impressions made on the senses and the inherent qualities of external objects, we cannot be said to have any absolute knowledge of things without us. In things of an abstract nature, such as the relations of quantity, ihe consciousness of a distinct agreement and disagreement of our ideas lays a sufficient basis of science, though the objects themselves to which the science is referred be supposed to have no existence. It matters not whether there be a circle in the world, in regard to the certainty M'ith Mhich we accede to the propositions which explain its properties. It is LETTERS. 223 entirely an affair of the mind — an arrangement of its internal con- ceptions. When we transfer our ideas to religion, they appear to attain as much certainty at least as satisfies us in the common affairs of life. We must at once abandon all reasoning, or admit the proofs of design in the works of nature ; and design necessarily implies a designing agent. Thus the being of a God appears to rest on the firmest basis, though it may be impossible to determine, from the light of reason, what that being is. When we advance to revelation, the evi- dence of testimony is as clearly applicable to the supernatural facts of Scripture as to any other species of facts whatsoever ; and we seem capable of knowing as much of God in his works and ways as of any other subject. I concur with you entirely, that the phenomena of religion are perfectly on a level in this respect with any other phenomena ; and cannot but tliink that there is a very exact analogy subsisting between grace and force, together with other principles, whose existence we are obliged to admit, though we know nothing of them but in their effects. We can never penetrate beyond effects ;• we can never contemplate causes in themselves, at least in our present dark and benighted condition : so that the skeptical tendency of meta- physical science ought to come in aid of our religious belief^ by show- ing that religion labours under no other difficulties than those which envelop all the fundamental principles of knowledge. The pro- foundest metaphysician will, in my opinion [casteris paribus), be always the humblest Christian. Superficial minds will be apt to start at the obscurities of religion, and to conceive that every thing is plain which relates to the objects of science and the affairs of common life. But the profound thinker will perceive the fallacy of this ; and when he observes the utter impossibility of tracing the real relations of impres- sions and phenomena to the objects out of ovrsehes, together with the necessity of believing a First Cause, he will be ready to conclude that the Deity is, in a manner, the only reality, and the truths relating to him the most certain, as well as the most important. Common minds mistake the deep impression of the phenomena of worldly affairs for clearness of evidence with respect to the objects themselves ; than Avhich nothing can be more distinct. You perceive I can do nothing more, on this subject, than echo back your own sentiments, which are such as I have long maintained. I wish it were in my power to throw some additional light on these intricate points, but I am utterly unable to do it. How far you can introduce any speculations of this sort into your philosophical works, with advantage, you are most competent to determine. It may, prob- ably, have the good effect of admonishing sciolists that the pursuits of science, when conducted with a proper spirit, are not inimical to reli- gious belief. My health is, through unspeakable mercy, perfectly restored, except- ing a good deal of the pain in my back. It will give me much plea- sure to see you at Foulmire. Please to remember me affectionately to Mrs. Gregory. 224 LETTERS. I am, my dear friend, with ardent wishes for your temporal and eternal welfare, Your affectionate Friend and Brother, Robert Hall. XV. TO WILLIAM HOLLICK, ESQ. ON HIS RECOVERY FROM A SECOND ATTACK. My dear Friend, Feb. 1, 1806. Accept my sincere thanks for your kind letter. Every assurance of tespect from old friends, and especially from one whose friendship has been so long tried, and evinced on so many occasions, must afford much satisfaction to a person in any situation. Though Providence has produced a separation, which will probably be of long continuance (and, in one sense, final), nothing, I am certain, can efface from my mind those impressions of gratitude and esteem with which I shall ever look back on my connexions at Cambridge and its vicinity. Witli the deepest submission, I wish to bow to the mandate of that awful, yet, I trust, paternal Power, which, when it pleases, confounds all human hopes, and lays us prostrate in the dust. It is for Him to dis- pose of his creatures as he pleases ; and, if they be wiUing and obe- dient, to work out their happiness, though by methods the most painful and afflictive. His plans are infinitely extended, and his measures determined by views of that ultimate issue, that final result, which transcends our comprehension. It is Avith the sincerest gratitude I would acknowledge the goodness of God in restoring me. I am, as far as I can judge, as [remote] from any thing wild and irregular in the state of my mind as I ever was in my life ; though I think, owing prob- ably to the former increased excitation, I feel some abatement of vigour. My mind seems inert. During my affliction, I have not been entirely forsaken of God, nor left destitute of that calm trust in his providence which was requisite to support me : yet I have not been favoured with that intimate communion, and that delightful sense of his love, which I have enjoyed on former occasions. I have seldom been without a degree of composure, though I have had little consolation or joy. Such, with little variation, has been my mental state, very nearly from the time of my coming to the Fishponds ; for I had not been here more than a fortnight before I found myself perfectly recov- ered, though my pulse continued too high. It has long subsided, and exhibits, the doctor assures me, every indication of confirmed health. With respect to my future prospects and plans, they are necessarily in a state of great uncertainty. I am fully convinced of the propriety of relinquishing my pastoral charge at Cambridge, which I shall do, in LETTERS. 225 an official letter to the church, as soon as I leave Dr. Cox, which, I believe, will be at the expiration of the quarter from my coming. My return to Cambridgeshire was, I am convinced, extremely ill judged ; nor had I the smallest intention of doing it, until I was acquainted with the generous interposition of my friends, to which it appeared to me that my declining to live among them would appear a most ungrateful return. I most earnestly request that they will do me the justice to believe, the intention I have named, of declining the pastoral charge, does not proceed from any such motive, but from the exigences of my situation, and a sense of duty. I propose to lay aside preaching for at least a twelvemonth. Please to remember me affectionately and respectfully to your cousin, and all inquiring friends, as if named. I am, my dear Sir, Your aftectionate and obliged Friend, Robert Hall. P.S. — Please to present my best respects to Mrs. HoUick and your daughter- XVI. TO THE REV. JAMES PHILLIPS. Fishponds, Feb. 15, 1806. Since I have been here, another stroke has befallen me under which my heart is bleeding. This is the death of my dear and only brother, two years older than myself, who died about ten days since, without a moment's warning. He was reaching something from the chimney- piece, and instantly dropped down, and expired. He had been for some years truly religious, so that I entertain pleasing views respecting his eternal state, which is my only consolation. I feel poignant regret at not having treated him with more tenderness. I longed to have an opportunity of convincing him of the ardour of my affection ; which makes me feel most painfully, that in losing him I have lost the human being of all others the most dear to my heart. I hear a voice, in this most affecting providence, speaking to me aloud, " Be thou also ready." I follow the dear deceased in his mysterious journey, and seem to stand on the very boundary that divides two worlds from each other, [while the] emptiness and vanity of every thing besides [God] is deeply impressed on my heart, my hopes, of an earthly kind, are extinguished. 1 feel my emptiness ; but, O, I long to be fdled. To be convinced of the vanity of the creature is, I know, the first step to happiness : but what can this avail, unless it be succeeded by a satis- fying sense of the fulness and all-sufficien(;y of God ! Through mercy, my health is perfectly restored. Vol. hi.— P 226 LETTERS. XVII. TO THE CHURCH OF CHRIST OF THE BAPTIST PERSUA- SION IN CAMBRIDGE. ON RESIGNING THE PASTORAL CHARGE. My dear Brethren, Leicester, March 4, 1806. A succession of afflictive dispensations has brought me to the reso- lution of resigning the pastoral office, which I have for a considerable number of years exercised among you. I cannot reflect on the numberless and decisive proofs you have afforded me of your attachment during that period without the warmest gratitude ; nor think of a final separation without regret. No people ever received the ministerial services of their pastor with more can- dour ; or evinced, on every occasion, a greater solicitude to contribute to his happiness. It is not necessary to dwell at large on the circum- stances which have determined me to relinquish the situation I have so long held. They are partly local, in the strictest sense of the word, and in part arise from my recent illness, which suggests the propriety of suspending the ministerial functions for the present. The dissolution of that union which has subsisted with such unin- terrupted harmony is the Avork of Providence, whose operations are often mysterious, but alw'ays infinitely wise and gracious. Permit me, my dear brethren, at parting with you, to express the deep and unal- terable sense I shall ever feel of the candour, kindness, and generosity I have uniformly experienced at your hands. You will ever have a distin- guished place in my affections and my prayers. It is my earnest prayer, that the truth it has been my humble endeavour to inculcate among you may take deeper and deeper root in your hearts and lives ; that you may obey from the heart that form of doctrine into which you have been delivered. May our separation not be final and eternal ; but may we be so preserved and sanctified, by the influence of divine grace, that, when the transitory days of our mortal pilgrimage are conchided, we may be permitted to spend a bhssful eternity together ! Let me make it my earnest request, that you will be careful to choose a minister whose heart is truly devoted to God, and who is determined, like the great apostle, "to know nothing among you, save Jesus Christ and him crucified." That your faith may increase exceedingly, and your love one towards anotlier abound more and more, till you arrive " at the fuhiess of the stature of perfect men in Christ," and are " presented before him unblameable in holiness," is tlie habitual and earnest prayer of Your late unworthy Pastor, And affectionate Friend, Robert Hall. LETTERS. 237 XVIIl. THE BAPTIST CHURCH AT CAMBRIDGE TO THE REV. ROBERT HALL.* IN REPLY TO THE PRECEDING. Dear Brother, Though your letter containing your resignation of the pastoral office among us had been expected, in consequence of an intimation previously communicated by you, it was received by us with deep re- gret; yet, we trust, in the spirit of humble submission to that all-wise Providence which has seen fit to dissolve the union that has so long and so happily subsisted between us. Be assured, you will ever hold a distinguished place in our most affectionate remembrances ; nor shall we forget you in our mingled supplications at the footstool of divine Mercy. We hope ever to preserve a grateful recollection of your long and faithful services. We bear you witness, that the prevailing desire of your heart, and the constant object of your labours, was to dissemi- nate among us the knowledge of the true God, and of Jesus Christ, whom he hath sent ; and to fit us, by divine grace, for the enjoyment of a future world. And we pray that the important truths which you have so repeatedly and energetically inculcated may constantly be adhered to by us. In the loss of such a pastor we have sustained a deprivation of no common magnitude ; but while we lament the painful separation which has taken place, we desire to mingle with feelings of sorrow on our own account those of sincere thanksgiving on yours. We rejoice that God has restored you : and we pray that your health and strength may long be preserved ; and lliat He who appoints the bounds of our habitation will direct you to whatever place may be most conducive to your permanent health and happiness. As frequently as possible, we hope you will favour us with your friendly visits. The real and ardent friendship which subsists between us it is our sincere desire should continue through our mortal existence, and gather fresh * These, and the two preceding letters to Mr. W. Hollick, will serve to correct the misstatement which has appeared in two or three periodical and other publications : " The intervention of malady separated him from a congregation which he had multiplied in number and elevated in character; and when he unexpectedly recovered, he found that his office was filled by another." Nothnig can he more inaccurate than this assertion ; nothing more unjuSt. The church and congregation, during Mr. Hall's .separation from tliein in consequence of his indisposition, evinced tlie utmost solicllude on his account. They made arrangements to receive weekly communications as to his progress towards recovery ; which were read publicly to the assembled congregation everv Sun- day On the permanent dissolution of their conne.xion, to which the above letters so aflfectingly allude, they did iioi content themselves with bewailing his loss ; but they exerted themselves most actively and successfully in raising a sufficient sum to purchase for him a handsome annuitv, and otherwise to contribute effectually to his comfort. During the quarter of a century which intervened between his removal from Cambridge and his death, they continued to manifest for him the mcst cor- dial affection and the highest veneration. His periodical visits to them were seasons of real dolighf, diffusing (shall I say ?) a gleam of pious hilarity and intellectual and spiritual refreshiiienl over all. And more than once has Mr. Hall assured me, that every such visit produced the most unequivocal proofs of their undiminished esteem and friendship. I feel it due to my old and valued friends at Cambridge, a sense of whose kindness, intelligence, and excellence the lapse of nearly thirty years has not effaced, to record this my humble testimony to their delicately grateful and gen- erous conduct towards their fornter invaluable pastor. — Ed. P2 228 LETTERS, strength by every future interview ; and we feel no hesitation in believ- ing, that it will survive the grave, and be perpetuated to immortal ages. In tlie choice of your successor we wish to be guided by the mo- tives you reconmiend, and the principles you have so frequently incul- cated : and we entreat an interest in your prayers, that tlie great Head of the Cluu'ch will supply us with one zealous for his honour, and qualified to feed the people of his charge with the bread of immortal life. Now, dear brother, with the greatest affection, " we commend you to God, and to the good word of his grace." Signed at the desire, and on behalf, of the whole church, this IGth day of March, 1806. William Hollick. ' XIX. TO MR. NEWTON BOSWORTH, CAMBRIDGE. My dear Friend, Leicester, Ai/giist 26, 1806. My long silence will naturally surprise you, till you hear the reason of it. The box which contained your letter has remained at Bristol, unopened, till last week ; nor did I receive your very kind favour until a few days since. This is the true state of the case, and must plead my apology for a silence which must otherwise appear so unkind and unnatural. Permit me to express my acknowledgments for the expressions of regard contained in your letter, of the reality and warmth of which I cannot entertain a moment's hesitation, as they are so perfectly in unison with every part of your conduct during all the years I have had the happiness of knowing you. Your congratulations on my recovery affect and humble me, as I am perfectly conscious of my not deserving the hundredth part of the esteem they imply. If my ministry has been at all blessed, as the means of spiritual good to your soul, God alone is entitled to the praise. I have been, in every sense of the word, an unprofitable servant. When I consider the value of souls, the preciousness of the blood of Christ, and the weight of eternal things, I am ashamed and astonished to think I could have spoken of such subjects with so little impression, and that I did not travail in birth more, till Christ was formed in my hearers. I have no plea for my negligence, no hope of pardon, but what is founded on that atone- ment and intercession I have endeavoured, though so very faintly, to recommend to others. Every fresh experience of life convinces me more and jnore ol" the trulli and importance of the doctrines I have preached ; and, l)lcssed be God ! I am sometimes favoured with some experimental taste of their sweetness. As often as 1 look back on such seasons, I am ready to exclaim, — LETTERS. 229 " Where can such sweetness bej As I have tasted in thy love, As I have found in thee?" 0, my dear friend, let us press towards the mark. We know where true happiness is to be found. Let the dead bury their dead ; but let us follow Christ, and aspire, with an intense and increasing ardour, to the heavenly kingdom. Happy shall we be if we can habitually act as becomes those who are but a few steps from heaven. I rejoice in your domestic felicity. May it long be continued, and, if possible, increased, without being permitted (and God can attemper all things) to abate your ardour after heavenly enjoyments. Your account of the reception of Mr. Gregory's book on Mechanics gives me great pleasure. He ***** *** thus affording a demonstration that the highest scientific attainments are by no means incompatible with the simplicity of the gospel. Please to remember me affectionately to hnn when you write. May God long preserve and bless him ! I thank you sincerely for your proffered assistance in packing up my books, which I shall probably shortly need ; for I am tired of wan- dering, and propose soon to fix upon some place where I may have my books about me. Remember me to Mrs. Bosworth, and all other friends, as if named. Pray let me hear from you soon and often. I am, dear Sir, Yours most affectionately, Robert Hall. XX. TO THE REV. JAMES PHILLIPS. My dear friend Phillips, Leicester, Jan. 2, 1807. I ought long since to have written to you, but you know what a poor correspondent I am, and how reluctant to write lettei"s. I feel myself much obliged by your kind favour. Your letter, like many things else in human life, contained a mixture of what excited melan- choly with what produced pleasing emotions. The succession of calamitous accidents which befell our friends in your neighbourhood is truly singular and affecting. I am happy to hear every one of the sufferers is doing well. 1 hope it will have the right impression on their minds, by bringing them nearer [to God ;] and they will have abundant occasion for thankfulness, even if their respective calamities had been worse. Present my kind and sympathizing respects to each of them, the first opportunity. Your account of Ireland interested me much. The state of the class of inhabitants you describe is truly 230 LETTERS. deplorable. I am afraid any attempts to remove their ignorance will have little success, unless some methods could be adopted at the same time to relieve their excessive poverty. There is a close connexion between the two. I suppose their poverty must be ascribed to the want of encouragement to industry afforded by the landed proprietors, and, perhaps, in some measure, to the hardihood of their constitution, which enables the Irish peasantry to subsist and multiply where a more feeble race would absolutely perish. You give no account of the lakes of Killarney, which, I understand, are singularly sublime and beautiful. You are desirous of some information respecting my situation and intentions, I have not yet taken possession of my apartments at En- derby, having been detained at Leicester by the affliction of my sister and niece ; the former is nearly recovered, the latter is not worse, and 1 intend to go to Enderby to-morrow or Monday at furthest. Enderby is a very pleasant village, about five miles from Leicester; it stands upon a hill, and commands a very pleasant and beautiful view. I am extremely pleased at the prospect of seeing you there in the spring. I hope nothing will occur to disappoint me. Be assured I shall do every thing in my power to make your visit pleasant. I have no immediate intention of coming to London : there are some friends there and in the vicinity it would give me much pleasure to see ; but the bustle and hurry of London are little suited to my taste. * ******* But my times are in the hand of God ; and my chief solicitude, if I do not greatly deceive myself, is to please him in all things, who is [entitled] to all my love, and infinitely more than all, if possible ; and who is, indeed, my " covenant God and Father, hi Christ Jesus." I do not at all regret my past afflictions, severe as they have been, but am persuaded [they] were wisely and mercifully ordered. I preach most Sabbaths, though at no one place statedly, and have found con- siderable pleasure in my work. I have little or no plan for the future, but endeavour to abandon myself entirely to the Divine direction. All I have to lament is the want of more nearness to God, and a heart more entirely filled with his love, and devoted to his service. Pray let me hear from you often : a letter from you never fails to give mo a high degree of pleasure. Please to remember me affectionately and re- spectfully to Miss Wilkinson, and to Mr. Wilberforce, should you see him, and to Mr. Beddome's family, in all its branches. I am, dear Sir, Yours most affectionately, Robert Hall. Present my kind respects to Mrs. Phillips. LETTERS. 231 XXI. TO THE REV. DR. COX. Dear Sir, Enderhy, April 2€, 1807. **#* * *«# The lukewarmness of a part, the genteeler part of congregations, with respect to vital religion, is matter of grief to me. Many have the form of religion, while they are in a great measure destitute of the power of it. With respect to the excuses that this class are ready to make for neglecting private meetings, it might not be amiss to urge them to inquire whence the indisposition to devote a small portion of their time to religious exercises arises. If it spring from a secret alienation of heart from devotional exercises, or from a preference to the world, it affords a most melancholy indication of the state of the mind. It is surely a most pitiful apology for declining such services, that they are not commanded by the letter of the New Testament. Whoever says this virtually declares that he would never give any time to religion unless he were compelled. The New Testament is sparing in its injunctions of external or instnnnental duties. But does it not warn, in a most awful manner, against the love of the world ; enjoin fervour of spirit, deadness to the present state, and the directing all our actions solely to the glory of God ? How these dispositions and principles can consist with an habitual reluctance to all social exercises of reli- gion, except such as are absolutely and universally enjoined, I am at a loss to determine. If the real source and spring of the neglect of devotional exercises, whether social or private, be an estrangement from God, and attachment to the world, the pretences by which it is attempted to be justified only enhance its guilt. With respect to the doctrine of election, I would state it in Scripture terms, and obviate the antinomian interpretation, by remarking that man, as man, is said to be chosen to obedience, to be conformed to the image of his Son, &c., and not on a foresight of his faith or obedience ; as also that the distinction between true believers and others is often expressly ascribed to God. " Thou hast hid these things." — " To you it is given not only to believe," &,c. — " As many as were ordained to eternal life believed." As the doctrine of election, however, occupies but a small part of the New Testament revelation, it should not, in my opinion, be made a prominent point in the Christian ministry. It is well to reserve it for the contemplation of Christians, as matter of humiliation and of awful joy ; but, in addressing an audience on the general topics of religion, it is best perhaps to speak in a general strain. The gospel affords ample encouragement to all ; its generous spirit and large invitations should not be cramped and fettered by the scrupulosity of system. The medium observed by Baxter and Howe is, in my opinion, far the most eligible on those points. 232 LETTERS. On the other subject you mention* 1 perceive no difficulty ; none, I mean, to embarrass the mind of a minister. On a subject so awful and mysterious, what remains for us but to use the language of Scripture, without attempting to enter into any metaphysical subtleties, or daring to lower what appears to be its natural import 1 A faithful exhibition of the Scripture declarations on this subject must be adapted, under a Divine blessing, to produce the most awful and salutary effects. With best wishes for your welfare, I am, dear Sir, Yours affectionately and sincerely, Robert Hall, XXII. TO THE REV. DR. RYLAND. Leicester, Dec. 28, 1 808. * * * I hope you continue to enjoy much religious prosperity. The only comfortable reflection, in the present state of the world, is the apparent increase of the kingdom of Christ. His glory, his gospel, his grace, are, I hope, considerably advancing : and how little are all the revolutions of kingdoms when compared to this 1 We should rejoice in every event which seems to tend to that issue ; and, on this account, I am more than reconciled to the recent intelligence from Spain. I long to see the strongholds demolished, and " every thing that exalteih" brought into subjection to Christ. How deep an infatuation blinds the counsels of Great Britain ! How fatal may we fear the intimate alliance of this country with the papal power, which the vengeance of God has marked out for destruction ! May the Lord bring good out of evil, and "fill the whole earth with his glory!" I am now removed to Leicester, and find my situation, on the whole, very comfortable. The people are a simple-hearted, afTectionate, praying people, to whom I preach with more pleasure than to the more refined audience at Cambridge. We have had, through great mercy, some small addition, and hope for more. Our meetings in general, our prayer-meetings in particular, are well attended. For myself, my mind and body are both much out of order ; awful doubt and darkness hanging on the former, and much affliction and pain hi the latter : let me, dear brother, entreat an interest in your prayers. I am, my dear Brother, Yours affectionately, Robert Hall. P,S. — In gratitude to God, and to my dear companion, I must add, that marriage has added (a little to my cares), 7nuch to my comfort, and that I am indidged with one of the best of wives, * That of future punishment, 1 presume. — Ed» LETTERS. 233 XXIII. TO THE REV. JAMES PHILLIPS. Leicester, Feb. 16, 1809. ***** *** * * * * Rogers 1 have not yet found time to read through. I thank you for it, and am much pleased with the piety and spirit of it, as far as I have gone. I have read Zeal without Inno- vation with extreme disgust : it is written with shrewdness and ability ; but is, in my esteem, a base, malicious, timeserving publication. It was lent me by Mr. Robinson, who, in common with all the serious clergy in these parts, disapproves it highly. I suppose the author wrote it to curry favour with such men as the and to procure a living. His poverty is to be pitied ; but I hope I would rather starve in a workhouse than be the author of such a book. I am afraid there is a party rising among the evangelical clergy, that will ruin the reformation which has been going on in the established church during the last forty or fifty years. * * * XXIV. TO A FRIEND IN PERPLEXITY AS TO HIS RELIGIOUS STATE. Dear Sir, Leicester, April 20, 1809. I am much concerned to learn the unhappy state of your mind respecting religion. You may depend upon no one seeing the letter but myself; and I wish it were in my power to say any thing that might be of use. Of this I have very little hope ; for the adage might, in too great a degree, be applied to me — "Physician, heal thyself;" as I labour under much darkness and despondency respecting my religious -prospects, through the prevalence of indwelling corruptions. What then, my dear sir, can I say to you, or to any other ? I would recommend you, above all things, to have recourse to prayer — to fervent, importu- nate, persevering prayer. Take no denial : if you cannot pray long, pray often. Take the utmost pains in preparing your heart, and in the exercises of the closet ; for surely an assurance of the forgiveness of sin, the light of God's Spirit, and the animating hope of glory are worth all the labour, and infinitely more than all, we are capable of using to attain them. They are heaven upon earth. From what I know by experience, though it is not with me now as in months past, the enjoyment of God throws every other enjoyment thai 234 LETTERS. can be realized or conceived, at an infinite distamce. Fix it in your mind, my dear friend, as a most certain truth, that there is nothing deserves to be pursued for a moment, but in subordination to God and for God ; and then act accordingly, and you will probably soon find a strange change for the better. Exposed as you necessarily are to the society of many who have either no religion or feel but little of its vital power, you are in peculiar danger of forming slight ideas of its importance, — of being taught to look upon it as a secondary thing, an occasional law, whose authority is to be interposed, like the law of the land, to regulate other things, — instead of looking upon it as a vital, prevailing principle of the heart and life. Many, it is to be feared, never attain the blessings of religion, because they never form that estimate of its dignity which is consonant with the oracles of God. Did it not seem like presumption, I should earnestly recommend the daily perusal, besides the Scriptures (which I take it for granted you cannot omit), of some practical and experimental divinity. We have great store of it; Doddridge's Rise and Progress, his and Watts's Ser- mons, and above all, if I may speak from my own experience, the wonderful Howe — particularly his Blessedness of the Righteous, his Living Temple (the latter part), his Treatise on Delighting in God. Perhaps you will say you have not time for this ; but here the question recurs again. What is of the most importance for a creature that is to live for ever — to be rich in this world, or to be rich towards God ? I hope you will pardon the liberty I have taken, from a regard to the motive, which, you will do me the justice to believe, is pure and disinterested. I remain, my dear* Sir, yours affectionately, Robert Hall. XXV. TO THE SAME. My dear Sir, Leicester, July 17, 1809. I duly received yours. Be assured, I sympathize with you in your spiritual trials, having had a large share of them myself. I wish I could adopt the language of Dido to the Trojans throughout — " Hand ignora mali rniseris succurrere disco.'''' The " haud ignora maW'' is fully applicable to myself; but I am afraid I have not yet learned the art of suggesting what may be useful to others in similar circumstances. I want " the tongue of the learned, that I may be able to speak a word in season to him that is weary." I congratulate you on your retaining your religious sensibility : the most dangerous spiritual symptom is apathy, or a stupid indifference to our real situation. While we have feeling enough to comphiin, we give unequivocal indications of life ; however disordered its functions, or languid its actions, may be. What LETTERS. 2S5 advice, my dear sir, can I possibly give you, but what your own good sense will suggest — that of giving all diligence, and following on ? " Then," says the prophet, " shall ye know, if you follow on to know the Lord." Set a firm resolution against the indulgence of sin in any form. I know you too well to suspect external irregularities ; but we are both fully convinced " the commandment is exceeding broad," and that, if we would walk in the light of God's blessed countenance, we must keep the heart with all diligence, or, as the expression signifies, " above all keeping." You will doubtless find your account in the serious, punctual, undeviating attention to private prayer, and reading of the Scriptures. I feel a pleasing confidence that you are too much impressed with the importance of religion to suffer these exercises to be superseded by any worldly enjoyments, or to be attended to in a slight, perfunctory manner, resting in the opus operatum, instead of improving them as means of nearness to God, and growth in grace. Would it not be advisable for you to give yourself up publicly to the Lord ? Might not your solemn engagement to be his, in the ties of a Christian profession, have a happy influence on the train of your sentiments and conduct ; not to say, that if you truly love the Lord Jesus Christ, you must necessarily feel a desire to keep his commandments 1 I am glad to hear you are happy with Mrs. . Please to remember me affection- ately to Mrs. , to — ^ — 's family in all its branches, to Mr. , •And all inquiring friends. I am, dear Sir, With great respect, yours, &c. Robert Hall. XXVL TO THE REV. JAMES PHILLIPS. My dear Friend, Leicester, Sept. I, 1809. Whether I owe you a letter, or you me, I cannot say ; but this I know, that it seems a long time since I heard from you. My affection for you rendeee me uneasy under so long a silence, and makes me anxious to hear how you go on. The last letter you favoured me with gave me a pleasing account of your religious prosperity : your pros- pects in this respect are, I hope, brighter and brighter. Among the very elegant and polite part of your audience, you are too well ^ acquainted with human nature to flatter yourself with much success ; but you have been honoured as the instrument of drawing a considerable number of the poor and of the middling classes to a place where they had no thought of attending before. Here you will, in all probability, find your most favourable soil. I am sure you will cultivate it with care;' ■and hope you will, under the blessing of God, reap an abundant harvest. 236 LETTERS. Were we but more strongly and abidingly impressed with the value of immortal souls, with what godly simplicity, what earnestness, and what irresistible pathos should we address them! Perhaps the inequaHty of the effect produced by different preachers is to be ascribed more to the different degrees of benevolent and devotional feeling, than to any other cause. Job Orton remarks, in his Letters, that he knew a good man of very slender abilities, who was eminently useful in the conversion of soiils ; which was, in his opinion, to be ascribed chiefly to the peculiarly solemn manner in which he was accustomed to speak of divine things. I had hoped to have seen you during the summer at Leicester, which would have been a very high gratification, as I know not when I shall reach London. I have no spirits for such an undertakmg : my complicated afflictions have left me but half a man. The apprehension of mingled society, of being exposed to various sorts of company, is too formidable for me at present to surmount. I am severely and habitually afliicted with my old complaint : but have I any room to I am happy in my domestic connexion, being blessed with an affec- tionate, amiable woman, and a lovely little girl, about five months old. My dear wife enjoys a better state of health than for some time past ; and the dear infant is quite well. We have lately enlarged our place of worship, and have the prospect of its being well filled. I hope we experience some little of the presence of the Lord in the midst of us. I beg to be most respectfully remembered to Miss Wilkinson, and to thank her for her very kind congratulations and good wishes on my marriage. Remember me also most affectionately to dear Mrs. P , and to all inquiring friends ; and pray let me hear from you very soon. I am, dear Sir, Your affectionate Friend and Brother, Robert Hall. XXVII. TO EBENEZER FOSTER, ESQ., CAMBRIDGE. Dear Sir, Manchester, Nov. 4, 1809. I write this from Manchester, to which your letter was sent from Leicester. I am obliged to you for it. It gives me much pleasure to hear of the very flourishing state of the congregation ; though I am concerned at the poor account you give me of Mr. Chase's health. I hope he will be speedily restored, and be contumed as an extensive blessing among you. The prosperity of the kingdom of Christ is the most delightfid object a real Christian can contemplate. May he speedily take " upon himself his great power and reign." I cannot LETTERS. ■ 2dt but indulge the belief that real Christianity is increasing in the world ; and that wliat we perceive of this kind at present is but the dawn of a more glorious era, which will shortly arrive. The convulsed state of the world, and the limitation of popish power, announce the speedy accomplishment of prophecy, in the triumphant establishment of the kingdom of Christ. Wherever the gospel is preached, there is a disposition, unknown in former times, to attend upon it. Poor M ! he has finished his career. When we look back upon those who have been too much addicted to the love of the world, what a dream, what a vanity does it appear ! how unworthy the supreme pursuit of a creature who is hastening to his final account ! May we, my dear sir, be preserved from this fatal snare, and possess as though we possessed not. ■)(. * * * *_# # * XXVIII. TO THE REV. JOSIAH HILL. Dear Sir, Leicester, Jan. 23, 1810. I thank you for your kind letter. I am happy to hear you are sO' comfortably settled, and that God has provided you with a suitable companion, with whom I wish you may enjoy many years of felicity. As to the proposal you are so good as to urge, of my visiting Pembroke^ shire next summer, it will be quite impracticable. I have one summer excursion in view already ; and a visit to so remote a part would occupy far more time than it would be proper for me to be absent from Leicester. I have had, in a manner, a new congregation to form ; so that any considerable absence is attended with serious inconvenience, as the people are, as yet, by no means compacted and consolidated. I consider it as the first duty of my life well to cultivate my own field, which is such at present as demands all my care : which I may say, with humble gratitude, it rewards, the Lord having, in various instances, set his seal to my poor labours. The congregation which I serve consists mostly of the poor, many of whom are, however, " rich in faith ;" so tliat I can truly say I never found so much encouragement in my work as since I have been here. The effect of time, and of spirits broken by a series of afflictions, has been to make me very reluctant to travelling. Nothing but the claims of absolute duty can surmount that reluctance. My ambition is to spread the savour of the knowledge of Christ in the coimexion where I am placed, content to leave the more enterprising and brilliant career of an evangelist to persons of more active and ardent minds. It would give me much satisfaction to meet my dear friend Phillips anywhere, and more espe- cially under your hospitable roof. That pleasure, however, I must postpone till I go to London, or until he will favour me with a visit in 338 LETTERS. Leicestershire. I shall be always happy to see you, and to hear of your success and prosperity in your great work. Of this you say you can speak nothing at present. The congregation, I fear, from the character of its former pastor, has sunk into a very lethargic state. It will be your study and ambition, I am persuaded, to awaken them, and to recall them to the power of that religion which " makes all things new." Whatever speculative difficulties you may have felt, or may still feel, you can be at no loss to discover, that the warm and affectionate preaching of Christ crucified is the grand instrument of forming lively Christians. May you in this glorious attempt be abun- dantly honoured and blessed. I return you my warmest thanks for every expression of esteem and affection with which you have honoured me, and remain, with senti- ments of high esteem, dear Sir, Youi affectionate Brother, Robert Haxl. XXIX. TO WILLIAM HOLLiCK, ESQ. ON THE DEATH OF MRS. HOLLICK. My dear Friend, Leicester, July 6, 1810. I sincerely sympathize with you m the heavy stroke with which your heavenly Father has seen fit to visit you in the removal of your dear partner, with whom you have so long trod the paths of this weary pilgrimage. I hope she has gone to eternal rest ; and you, my dear friend, will, I trust, meet her in that world where no separation, no sorrow or sin will ever enter. " Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us with all spiritual blessings in him." I have endeavoured already, and often shall, " to spread your case before the Lord," and to entreat him to support you under, and sanctify you by this dispensation. You have learned, my dear friend, the terms on which all earthly unions are formed ; the ties on earth are not per- petual, and must be dissolved ; and every enjoyment but that which is spiritual, every life but that which is " hid with Christ in God," is of short duration. Nothing here is given with an ultimate view to enjoyment, but for the purpose of trial, to prove us, and " to know what is in our hearts, and if we are upright before God, to do us good in the latter end." You had, no doubt, often anticipated such an event as the inevitable removal of one from tlto other ; and I hope neither of you were wanting in making a due improvement of the solemn reflection, and laying up cordial for such an hour. Still I am well aware that the actual entrance of death into the domestic circle is unutterably LETTERS. 239 solemn, and places things in a different light from what we ever saw them in before. You seem, and it is with much pleasure I per- ceive it, fully aware, thoroughly apprized of the true improvement to be made of this heavy blow, which is undoubtedly intended to quicken your preparation for a future world. It loudly says to you, and to all, " Be ye also ready ; for in such an hour as ye think not, the Son of man cometh." God grant it may be eminently sanctitled by weaning you more completely from this world, and " setting your affections" more entirely and habitually " on the things that are above." You will then, in the midst of that deep regret such a loss has neceS' sarily inspired, have cause to bless God that you were afflicted. We have been for some time in expectation of a visit from you. I hope you will not disappoint us, nor delay it long, as my dear wife expects in a very few months to be confined. We shall rejoice to see you, and shall be happy to contribute in some measure to your solace and relief. My wife, whose health is extremely delicate at best, and very often interrupted, desires to be most respectfully and affectionately remembered to you. Please to present my kindest and most sym- pathizing regards to your daughter, and love to inquiring friends. I remain, dear sir, with best wishes and prayers, Your affectionate and sympathizing Friend and Brother, Robert Hall. XXX. TO R. FOSTER, JUN. ESQ., CAMBRIDGE. My dear Sir, Leicester, July 12, 1811. I thank you for your favour, enclosing a draught for 75/. 2^. 9d.f and am highly gratified with the genuine sentiments of piety contained in your letter. It has been a peculiar satisfaction to me, for a long time past, to hear of your decided attachment to the cause of God ; and it is my earnest prayer that the life of God, which his grace has commenced, may flourish more, till it issues, as it infallibly will, in the fruit of eternal life. Go on, my dear sir, in the course you have begun ; dare to be singularly good, and to follow Jesus " out of the camp, bearing his reproach" — a reproach that will be found " greater riches than all the treasures of Egypt." You are already the joy of good men, and a shining hope of the church, and it is impossible to calculate the eminent advantage you. may be of to the interests of religion in the sphere where Providence has placed you. Your admonitions I take in good part. I am not without a con- sciousness of my not having exerted my small abilities to the extent I ought in the cause of religion ; but I find strange and seemingly insur- mountable obstacles, arising in part from a certain fastidiousness of taste which renders me dissatisfied, and even disgusted, with all ray 240 LETTERS. performances. My extreme ill state of health must also be taken into the account. I am seldom free from pain, which is often very severe. I remain, my dear Sir, Yours most affectionately, Robert Haxl, XXXI. TO JOSEPH GUTTERIDGE, ESQ., DENMARK HILL, CAMBERWELL. My dear Sir, Leicester, September 16, 181L I have not rehnquished my intention of publishing the substance of the sermon delivered at Prescott-street, though I think it will be most proper to print it in the form of a charge, in which it was first delivered. You may rest satisfied I shall not omit making mention of the occasion on which it was preached at Prescott-street, and embracing the opportunity of recommending, as far as lies in my power, the new institution to the attention and patronage of the religious public. The reason of the sermon not appearing sooner has been, principally, an almost uninterrupted struggle of painful dis- couragement arising from its appearing so contemptible under my hand.* The truth is, I am tormented with the desire of writing better than I can, and as this is an obstacle not easily overcome, I am afraid it will never be in my power to write much. XXXII. FROM MR. GUTTERIDGE TO MR. HALL. Proposing that he should preach a series op lectures in lonCon. Dear Sir, I am now about to address you on the subject of our conversation when last at Denmark Hill. I then suggested to you the wishes of many friends that you would consent to visit London the following spring, and make arrangements for spending a longer time with us. Several persons have been inquiring if there were a probability of such an event being realized ; but I did not wish to trouble you further on the subject till it became needful to do so. * The sermon here referred to is that on the Discouragements anJ S^ypjiorts of the Christiim Minister.— Ed. LETTERS. 241 My idea has been, that if you would spend six weeks at least with us, a course of lectures might be established, to be preached by you, that, under a Divine blessing, without which all our efforts are vain, might be productive of much good at the present season. A course of lectures, say you ; — on what subject ? I reply, on any subjects that have a tendency to counteract the impiety and irreligion of the world in which we live : and surely you will admit this is latitude sufficient. I am aware that some objections will arise in your own mind. You will perhaps indignantly ask, " Does he think I will go to London to preach for money ?" You may rely upon it, I have too much regard for you to wish you to do any thing that might even be interpreted to your discredit. But is it dishonourable in a man who has a family that have claims upon him to do that which may promote their comfort ] Is the fair and honourable exercise of talent to be deprived of a suitable remuneration ? Is not " the labourer worthy of his hire ?" And although he who is called to preach the gospel is not to be actuated by motives of " hlthy lucre," yet he is nowhere called to despise the cup of blessings that Providence may put into his hands, " who giveth us all things richly to enjoy." All this I am saying upon a presumption that your friends will cheerfully raise a subscription, of which you will know nothing, save the contents. I should propose to obtain places of worship well adapted for evening lectures, probably one in the city and one on the other side Temple Bar; and that on the Lord's-day evening, and also one evening in the week, you might alternately preach there. Tliis plan would leave your Sabbath mornings at liberty to oblige particular friends, or to supply destitute congregations ; and in this respect I would propose to fix you to Prescott-street, if I dare. The time that a-ppears to me most suited for the purpose would be the beginning of April ; and then you would be in towai through the missionary meetings. There is also, in the beginning of May, a most important service to be per- formed for the " Orphan School," — the only school among Protestant dissenters where the children are maintained as well as educated, and which has been upon the decline, but is now, we hope, reviving. I should rejoice to see you become the advocate of so extensive and valuable an object ; and if you fall in with my design, you will, I hope, undertake it. I hope Mrs. Hall and the children will come with you ; you have friends who will be glad to take them in ; but if you would prefer a lodging, we can, I doubt not, manage that to your satisfaction. Thus have I given you the outlines of a plan which is subject to any alterations you may propose. Let me beg you to take it into your serious consideration, and to send me soon a favourable answer. I am, dear Sir, affectionately yours, Joseph Guiteridge. Vol. in.— Q 242 LETTERS. XXXIII. TO JOSEPH GUTTERIDGE, ESQ., IN REPLY TO THE PRECEDING. My dear Sir, Leicester, Feb. 29, 1812. I have taken into my most serious consideration the proposition laid before me in your last letter, and have sought the advice of those friends whose opinion I judged most fit to be relied upon. Some of them are decided in favour of my compliance, others leave the matter in suspense. My people at Leicester have given their cheerful consent, on a supposition of its appearing to me to be the path of duty. Upon making it frequent matter of prayer, I am inclined to think it may be my duty to fall in with tiie ideas entertained by you and others upon this point, provided my health admit. The difficulties and discourage- ments attending the aftair appear to me so formidable, that notliing could induce me for a moment to think of encountering them but an apprehension that I might, by yielding to them, be going against the will of God. I am habitually alarmed at the thought of my having already too much hid my little talent in a napkin, and should conse- quently rather risk the most unpleasant imputations than increase that score of guilt. It ought to be (alas ! how weak my heart !) " a small thing with me to be judged by man's judgment : there is one that judgeth, even the Lord." The business, however prudently conducted, will expose me to the censure of pride and presumption on the part of many ; and my deficiencies will disappoint, I am certain, the expectation of my partial friends. Nevertheless, supposing it possible some good m-Aj result, I am inclined to say, " I will go in the strength of the Lord my God." An impediment lies in the way, however, at present, which must be removed before I can think of it ; that is, the state of my health. My old complaint has grown upon me so much of late, that it is widi great difficidty I can go on with my stated work. I have been for some time under the necessity of taking fifty, and sometimes a hundred drops of laudanum every night, in order to pro- cure any rest. The pain has been both violent and very nearly con- stant. It is quite out of the question to think of a journey to London unless I am better. So situated, whatever arrangements are made connected Avith the proposal you mention, must be conditional ; and I shall, if you judge it fit to give it any further consideration, inform you previously whether I can come or not. It seems to me there are some objections to the place of preaching being alternate : will not this inter- fere with its being well known? The same objection seems to apply to the appointment of different places. These, however, and all other points, 1 wish to submit to the decision of friends. Mrs. H. w-ill, I believe, not be able to accompany me. She desires to be most LETTERS. 243 respectfully remembered to you and Mrs. G. Please to present my best respects to Mrs. G. and Miss G., and believe me to be, with great esteem, Dear Sir, yours affectionately, Robert Hall. xxxiy. TO JOSEPH GUTTERIDGE, ESQ. ON THE SAME SUBJECT. My dear Sir, Leicester, March 29, 1812. I delayed writing to you as long as I could, that I might the better ascertain the state of my health at the time when it was proposed I should undertake my journey to London. I now feel myself under a necessity of informing you and my other friends, that my health is such as renders it impossible for me to think of engaging in such a matter. It is with the utmost difficulty that I can go through my stated duties. I am ready to suspect that the complaint under which I have so long laboured is intended to "weaken my strength by the way," and, at no great distance, to bring me to " the house appointed for all living." The pain is almost incessant, and often so violent as to put my patience to its utmost exercise.* I have now for many weeks been under the necessity of taking seventy or eighty drops of laudanum every night, and am often obliged to rise and repeat the draught before I can procure any rest. It appears to me preposterous to think of coming to London in such a situation. I can scarce ever sit up an hour together ; lying down is my constant position. I consulted some judicious friends on the subject of your proposal, and, above all, made it my business to seek direction from the Fountain of wisdom, The result was, that I came to a determination to suspend the affaii upon the state of my health about the time my engagements, in the event of compliance, were to commence. Providence, by having placed me in my present circumstances, appears to have decided the affair ; and in that decision I perfectly acquiesce. My mind is, to say the truth, relieved from a considerable weight ; for nothing but a fear of neglecting a possible opportunity of doing some little good could have reconciled me for a moment to the proposal yon, I am persuaded with the best intentions, were pleased to make. The appearance of vanUy and self-consequence attached to it, always presented itself aa a most formidable obstacle ; but this I had made up my mind to sur- mount, reposing, in the midst of much sinister [interpretation,] on the rectitude of my intentions, and my conscious desire of complying with the leadings of Providence. You, my dear sir, have been actuated, I doubt not, in this affair, by a solicitude to promote the interest of reli- * See p. liS5, 156 of this volume.— Ed. Q2 244 LETTERS. gion, as well as by motives of the truest friendship, as far as concerns myself; and you will not fail to [reap] the satisfaction which arises from the possession of such sentiments. For the trouble you have been at in making the necessary arrangements, you will be so good as to accept my sincere acknowledgments. With truest affection and esteem, I remain, dear Sir, Yours constantly, Robert Hall. XXXV, TO THE REV. JAMES PHILLIPS. My dear Phillips, Leicester, April 16, 1812. I was extremely gratified to hear once from you again ; and if you knew how much pleasure it yields me to receive a letter from you, I flatter myself you would indulge me oftener. I have little to commu- nicate that will be interesting to you, but could not let so affectionate an epistle lie by long unanswered. My state of health, I need not tell you, has long been extremely ill : it appears to me as if my con- stitution was breaking up ; and I have little doubt, unless my malady takes a favourable turn, it will, ere it be long, reduce me to the dust. I am not better than my fathers : I am deeply conscious I am corrected less, yea, infinitely less, than my iniquities deserve. I hope I am more anxious to see my heavy affliction sanctified than removed. Whether it would be best for it to be removed may well be doubted : of the admirable benefits arising from sanctification, both in time and eternity, there can be no doubt. I presume the Lord sees I require more ham- mering and hewing than almost any other stone that was ever selected for his spiritual building, and that is the secret reason of his dealings with me. Let me be broken into a thousand pieces, if I may but be made up again, and formed by his hand for purposes of his mercy. I see more and more of the unspeakable blessedness of being made like God, and of becoming partaker of his holiness. I see it, I say, but I do not attain; or, at least, in so unspeakably small a degree, that I have every moment reason to be abased, and " repent in dust and ashes." My ministry continues, through mercy, to be considerably blessed in awakening sinners. I cannot but hope the church and congregation are in a very promising state. We are in perfect harmony, and we have frequent additions. Last Lord's-day se'rmight I baptized thirteen, and others stand ready. Blessed . be the Lord ! My strain of preaching is considerably altered ; much less elegant, but more intended for con- viction, for awakening the conscience, and carrying home truths with power to the heart. Our congregation is plain and serious, with a sprinkling of genteel people ; but none in tlie church : and, indeeil, if LETTERS. 245 any saving fruit has been reaped from my ministry, it has been ahnost entirely among the middling and lower classes. Yesterday we had our second jubilee anniversary of the Bible Society for Leicestershire, a happy harmonious meeting, with one little excep- tion ; on the church side, several clergymen spoke ; but no dissenter. I augur the most glorious and important consequences from the Bible Society. I have just finished the perusal of Mr. Scott's answer to Bishop Tomline. He has demolished the bishop entirely. I tind but little in Mr. Scott's views against which I can object. It is somewhat loosely written, but full of argument, instruction, and piety. There is a trait of egotism in the good man which had better been avoided. He quotes almost entirely Irom his own works. It is well for the bishop his rank excuses bim from replying to it. He would make a miserable figure. I thank you for your favourable opinion of my dis- course. It is flat ; but if it be in the least adapted to do good, I ought to rest satisfied. I am much rejoiced to hear of your intention of visiting Leicester. You must spend a Sabbath with me. I heard Mr. twice, [as he passed] through Leicester : he is a young man of some talents, of a good deal of brilliancy, but miserably delective in simplicity. 1 am afraid a vicious taste is gaining ground, both among preachers and hearers : all glare and point, little to the under- standing, and nothing to the heart. But my paper admonishes me to close, with my best respects to Mrs. Phillips, Miss W , Mr. and Mrs. Beddome, Sic, in which Mrs. H. joins me. I remain, my dear Sir, Your affectionate and constant Friend, Robert Hall. XXXVI. EXTRACT OF A LETTER TO MRS. ANGAS, NEWCASTLE- UPON-TYNE. Dear Madam, Leicester, May 8, 1812. Though I have nothing particular to communicate, I knew not how to let Mrs. O. proceed to Newcastle without dropping a line to ac- knowledge your kind letter, and present my gratitude for the interest you are pleased to take in my welfare. The esteem of the pious and ex- cellent of the earth I always consider as a very distinguished privilege ; though the possession of it is not unmingled with mortification at the consideration of my deserving it so little, and my perfect conviction, that did they know me more they would esteem me less. It ought to humble most persons to reflect, that for a large portion of the respect in which they are held, they are indebted to ignorance ; to the neces- sary unacquaintance with each other's hearts. The Great Supreme is the only being from whom nothing is to be feared on this head ; the only 246 LETTERS. one who may be safely trusted with the worst secrets of our hearts. " His mercy endurelh for ever." He also is able, and only he, to cor- rect the obliquities he discovers. The Leicester news you probably hear from other quarters. I go so little into society, that the report must be strong and loud which reaches me. XXXVII. TO MR. NEWTON BOSWORTH, CA^IBRIDGE. My dear Sir, Leicester, April 23, 1813. I am ashamed of not having earlier answered the kind letter I re- ceived from Mrs. B., for which I beg you will present my hearty- acknowledgments. I must also thank you for your book on the Acci- dents of Life. It is a most entertaining production, and will, I hope, be extensively useful m preventing or remedying a large portion of human calamity. It is pla.inly dictated by the same spirit that breathed in a Howard and a Hanway, and will entitle you to a portion of their reward. As I hope to see Cambridge in the course of this summer, you will not expect from me a very long letter. I recollect, with fervent grati- tude, the kindness I there met with ; mixed with much shame, to think it should have been lavished on such an undeserving object. When I recollect the course of my ministry at Cambridge, I feel continual matter of condemnation. " Do you preach better now, then ?" you will perhaps say. In one respect I do not preach half so well : — I do not bestow near so much attention on my composition : but I trust I do insist on more interesting and evangelical topics. A greater savour of Jesus Christ does, I trust, breathe through my ministry, in which it was formerly greatly deficient. But why do I speak so much of myself? — We last Monday held our annual [meeting of the] Bible Society. It was more numerously attended than ever, and delightful to see clergymen and dissenting ministers sit on the same seat, and ardently engaged in promoting the same object, with perfect unanimity. W^e cannot say of the past times that they were better than the present. I think the age is greatly improving : it must improve in proportion as the grand catholicon is more universally applied. * * » It would have given me great pleasure to have seen you this summer at Leicester: I am sorry your letter indicates no intention of that sort. ******** I am much delighted with reading a new translation of Mosheim's Commentaries on the Alfairs of the Christians before Constantine, It appears to me one of the most instructive theological pubhcations that LETTERS. 247 has appeared for a multitude of years. With kind remembrances to Mrs. B. and all inquiring friends. I remain, my dear Sir, Your affectionate Friend, Robert Hall. P.S. — We have had an irreparable loss in tlie removal of dear Mr. Robinson. It has been a most affecting event, and has left a chasm which can never be filled up. Last Wednesday I endeavoured to im- prove the event by a suitable discourse. XXXVIII. [When Mr. Hall visited Cambridge, in the summer of 1813, he preached a sermon to the young persons belonging to the congregation there with which he had formerly been connected. The next day they assembled, and addressed to him a letter of thanks, to which the following is his reply : — ] To my young Friends of Mr. Edmond's congregation : My dear young Friends, I feel greatly obliged to you for your very affectionate testimony of your esteem, and rejoice to find my feeble attempts to impress religious sentiments were not altogether without effect. Your letter breathes a spirit of unaffected piety, which it is impossible to witness wi-thout emotion. I hope the Lord will enable you to persevere, and that, " being planted in the house of the Lord, you will flourish in the courts of your God, and bring forth fruit even to old age." Be sober, be vigilant ; watch closely over your own hearts, and be much in earnest supplication to the Fountain of grace. Bless God, for having inclined your hearts to seek him ; and doubt not that he will most graciously afford all the succour necessary to enable you to finish your course with joy. That you may very greatly profit by the means of grace with which you are favoured, and become the joy of your parents, the hope of your minister, and great examples of pure and undefiled religion, is the earnest prayer of, My dear young Friends, Your affectionate Brother, Robert Hall. 24a LETTERS, XXXIX. EXTRACT FROM A LETTER TO THE REV. W. BUTTON. Dear Sir, Leicester, Oct. 25, 1813. I have taken into consideration the proposal you have made. I know not what to say to it. If I shall part with the copyriglit of the little tracts, it may be, possibly, an injury to my family, and put it out of tlieir power to publish a complete edition. Your proposal is very handsome ; but this is one of my objections to it. Another is, it is so long since the tracts made their appearance, and several so short, and their subjects so miscellaneous, that I am afraid it will have an osten- tatious appearance. I hate the appearance of vanity : I have so much of it in my heart, that I am ashamed it should display itself to the eyes of the world. As to my sermon, I am doing something to it at intervals. I have, indeed, nearly written it out in the rough, but I am so much disgusted with it, as usual, that I can by no means let it appear, unless it is in my power greatly to improve it.* XL. TO THE REV. JAMES PHILLIPS, CLAPHAM. ON OCCASION OF THE DEATH OF HIS OWN SON. My dear Friend, Leicester, Feb. 28, 1814. I am greatly obliged to you for your kind and consolatory letter, replete with those topics whence alone true consolation can be deduced. The stroke has been very severely felt by us both, but certainly most by dear Mrs. Hall. She was dotingly fond of our lovely boy. For my own part, I was not at all aware my affection for him was so strong imtil he was removed from us ; my anguish was then great. It seemed to me as if I felt more on this occasion than I should at the loss of either of my others. This feeling, I suspect, was delusive, and arises from our being incapable of estimating the strength of our attachment to any object till it is removed. I was disappointed in his being a bov; for, frecolleciing] my own extreme and ])ortentous wickedness, I fancied there was somelhing in the constitution of boys peculiarly tending to vice, and adverse to their spiritual interests. I had also remarked that females seemed much more susceptible of religious impressions than * Tlkc sermon here alluded to was never publislieJ. LETTERS. 249 men. On these accounts I trembled for his salvation, and did not feel that gratitude for the blessing vouchsafed me which I ought. I suspect I greatly displeased God by my distrust of his goodness, and that he saw it meet to adopt this method of chastising me. May it be sancti- fied as a means of making me humble, heavenly, and submissive. It is a very solemn consideration, that a part of myself is in eternity ; in the presence, I trust, of the Saviour. How awful will it be, should the branch be saved and the stock perish ! Pray for me, my dear friend, that this may not be the case ; but that I may be truly sanctified, and permitted to walk in the fear of the Lord, and in the consolations of the Holy Ghost. Mrs. Hall has been very ill, occasioned in a good measure by the shock she has received, but is better. She is looking forward, with considerable anxiety, to her confinement, which she expects in less than three months. She is so extremely weak and delicate, that I have very painful apprehensions res^pecting the issue. My wish and endea- vour is to leave her, myself, and my dear children, in the hands of God. But how dilheult it is to do so ! Let me, once more, entreat an interest in your prayers. XLI. TO THE REV. W. BUTTON. My dear Sir, Leicester, Teh. 3, 1815. I am much concerned to hear of your disorder in your eyes : it is, indeed, a great affliction, and demands die exercise of much submission to the wise Disposer of all events. I am afraid it has had, and will have, a great effect in depressing your spirits. Remember, my dear brother, the Lord means to do you good by all his seA'eral dispensations. He has already given you his Son ; and how " shall he not with him freely give you all things ?" He has conferred upon you spiritual dis- cernment and heavenly light : how infinitely more important than the " light of the body," which in all eyes must soon be darkened ! I hope, however, if it is a cataract, you may get relief; that is a disease which, I understand, has frequently been cured. Say, then, my dear friend, with David, "AVhy art thou thus disquieted within me? I shall yet praise him who is the health of my countenance, and my God." It will be, and has been, my habitual prayer that you may be strengthened, comforted, and relieved. With respect to the reviewing Mr. 's sermon, I must be excused. I have entirely done with reviewing : it is an occupation, of all others, I dislike, and shall entirely give it up. If you Avish me to publish, you sliould never wish me to review ; for you are not aware what a serious interruption it is. I compose very slowly ; and what I have 250 LETTERS. written in the Review has been a very great interruption. I have read Mr. 's sermon with much pleasure ; it is judicious, serious, and affecting: but I am well aware how extravagantly his friends at have always overrated his talents ; and were I to review, and express myself in such terms only as the occasion would justify, I should mortify, instead of gratify. In truth, reviewing at the re- quest of particular friends is a snare for the conscience. I never wished any person to review for me. XLII. TO THE REV. DR. FLETCHER OF BLACKBURN, NOW OF STEPNEY. Dear Sir, Leicester, Feb. 21, 1815. I duly received the five-pound bill which your friend has been so kind as to appropriate to the Baptist Mission. He maj' depend upon its being faithfully applied to the purpose for which it is intended ; and you will be so good as to thank him in my name for it. I most sincerely beg your pardon for not having replied to your kind letter : the truth is, not sitting down to reply to it immediately, the im- pression I had upon my mind afterward was, that you did not wish or expect me to reply. I recollected only that it contained a pretty pressing remonstrance with me for not publishing more ; a subject on which I have ol'ten been urged, much to my concern and vexation. It pains me, my dear sir, to be condemned and reproached upon a subject which is sometimes a source of more internal uneasiness than is gene- rally supposed. I am far from being satisfied with my own conduct in this particular, but know not how to remedy it. It is not indolence, I can truly say, which prevents me ; but a certain fastidiousness and difficulty of being pleased, which really rises to the magnitude of a mental disease. I feel myself, in all my performances, so short of that standard which I have formed in my own mind, that I can truly say I contem- plate my little productions with a kind of liorror. If I could dismiss this feeling, I should much oftencr try tlie patience of the public. That what I have written meets with your approbation cannot fail to encour- age me ; it is " laudari a viro laudato ;" but permit me to express my surprise that you should express yourself in terms so extremely disproportioned to my merits. I shall be happy to hear from you, whenever you are disposed to write ; and remain, Dear Sir, with high esteem, Your affectionate Friend, Robert Hall. LETTERS. 251 XLIIl. TO THE REY. DR. FLETCHER. Dear Sir, Leicester, May 26, 1815. With respect to Mr. Fuller's last moments, I have very little to communicate. His complaint was of a nature that left him very little opportunity of conversing with ease and composure. He was oppressed with a prodigious load of corporeal misery. He said, I believe, more than once, " All misery centres in me, and I cannot die." In a letter he dictated to Dr. Ryland a few days belbre his death, he expressed himself thus : — " My state of mind is, in one word, tins ; no despond- ency, no raptures." He said to his friends, he felt that trust in Christ, that he could plunge into eternity. He was a prodigious sufl'erer during his last illness. He said to Dr. Ryland, " I have written much, and said much, against the abuse of the doctrine of grace ; but that doctrine is all my support in the prospect of eternity. I have no hope of being saved, but through the free sovereign grace of God, flowing through the atonement of Christ." I recollect nothing very particular respecting his first introduction into the ministry. Dr. Ryland will, I believe, compile a pretty extensive memoir of him. He has been strongly urged so to do. He was in many respects the most memorable man it has ever been my happiness to know ; and his loss wUl be deplored as irreparable. He possessed good sense in a more perfect degree than any person I ever knew, embraced every object with a clearness, facility, and precision almost peculiar to himself. He certainly possessed genius in a very high degree ; but it was more a modification of intellect than a vigour of imagination ; though in the latter faculty he was not defective. I loved and esteemed him more than I can express ; and how his loss can be supplied in tiie mission I am at an utter loss to conjecture. But God is all-sutBcient. Let me entreat your prayers to God that he would provide. I feel much gratified at your intention of improving the death of our most lamented and venerable friend. Wishing you much of the blessing of God in your important engagements, and begging to be remembered to Mrs. F., though unknown, I remain, dear Sir, Your affectionate Friend and Brother, Robert Hall. 252 LETTERS. XLIV. TO DR. RYLAND. My dear Brother, Leicester, June 17, 1815. I am sorry you should continue to importune me about thaL wretched oration, which it is my inialterablc resolution never to print. It was not fit to be delivered, much less to be presented from the press. I may be mistaken : but I always conceive that it is a respect due to the public, whenever we appear before them, to do our best ; and not to put them off with the weakly or more deformed part of our intellectual progeny. I laboured under an extreme depression of spirits ; I was perplexed, between an imperfect written composition, a sort of funeral sermon delivered the last Sunday, and an attempt at extempore speak- ing. It would neitlier be respectful to Mr. Fuller nor to the public, nor justice to myself, to publish such a wretched piece of inanity. In delivering the oration at all, I performed a service for which scarce any money would have bribed me ; but to have the publication of it demanded, under pain of the displeasure of Mr. Fuller's friends, is intrenching rather too much upon the independence of private judgment. Do not understand me, my dear sir, as at all displeased with you for urging tlie matter : I am speaking only upon the supposition that Mr. Fuller's family or friends demand the publication. As you have intimated a willingness to publish memoirs, I would strongly recommend publishing neither the sermon nor the oration. They are utterly unnecessary if the memoirs are published ; not only so, but they would stand in each other's way. AVhcn a biography is promised, it is not, I think, usual for the same person to publish a funeral sermon previously. It is slaking the public curiosity prema- turely. If you persist in your intention of publishing memoirs, I should feel no objection to taking an opportunity of testifying my profound esteem and friendship for dear Mr. Fuller, in some form which you may deem most cligit)le ; but let me, my dear sir, hear no more of the oration. My resolution is unalterable upon that subject. * * * As far as my acquaintance with sober Calvinists extends, they do not object to the doctrine of disinterested love, so much as to the naked and abstracted form in which soine of the American divines have presented it. A portion of love to God, resulting from a spiritual perception of his intrinsic beauty, enters, I have no doubt, into the essence of true religion ; but some of the Americans have given a prominence to this subject, as appears to me, beyond what exists in Scripture. My work on mixed comnumion will be out, I trust, in about a fort- night. It is written, I hope, in a Christian spirit, and is calculated to do good rather than harm. I am most perfectly convinced that the LETTERS. 253 Baptist sentiments will never prevail upon the opposite system. My sincere wish is, that truth and candour may be promoted in the church. I remain, Your affectionate Brother, Robert Hall. XLV. TO MR. JOSIAH CONDER. Dear Sir, Leicester, Sept. 1815. I owe you many apologies for not sooner noticing the letter you were so good as to address to me a considerable time since. The only reason I can plead for my silence is, the pain it necessarilj' gives me to put a negative upon wishes warmly and, as I believe, sincerely expressed. After having so frequently stated my repugnance to writing reviews, I feel myself at an utter loss to express the same sentiment in terms more strong or more efficacious. There is no kind of literary exertion to which I have an equal aversion, by many degrees ; and, were such things determined by choice, it is my deliberate opinion I should prefer going out of the world by any tolerable mode of death, rather than incur the necessity of M'riting three or four articles in a year. I must therefore beg and entreat I may not be urged again upon a subject so ineffably repugnant to all the sentiments of my heart. From what I have seen of the recent execution of the work especially, I am convinced my assistance is not in the least needed. It is, I believe, growing daily in reputation, and I hope in circulation ; and I have no doubt but that, r.nder your skilful management, and that of your coadjutors, its reputation will not only be sustained, but will be sutBcienl to engage far superior assistance to mine. I admire the Bible Society inexpressibly : but how is it possible to say any thing in its praise or vindication, which has not been said a thousand times ; or where would be the safety of depicting in their true colours, the character and conduct of that whited sepulchre ? Besides, let me add, my dear sir, that my other engagements are such, that the business of reviewing is incompatible with them, unless I were to form the resolution of having nothing to do with the press, or others for me. I feel myself much honoured by the expression of your kind regard, and beg leave to assure you that I am, with the truest esteem. Your sincere Friend, And obedient Servant, Robert Hall. 254 LETTERS. XLVI. TO THE REV. W. CHAPLIN, BISHOP STORTFORD. My dear Sir, Leicester, Mo7iday, Sept. 22, 1815. I hope you will excuse my neglect in not replying to your very kind invitation. I designed fully to reply to it without delay ; but one circumstance occurred after another, in that busy scene, to occasion delay until it was too late. It would have given me, I flatter myself, at least as much pleasure as to yourself, to have proceeded to Stort- ford, and spent a day or two there. I shall ever retain a lively and grateful impression of the happy hours I have passed at Stortford, and of the distinguished politeness and attention on your part, which have chiefly contributed to render them so. But the fact is, while I am at Cambridge, the present claimants upon my time are so numerous, that, unless I could considerably protract my stay, I find it next to impossible to make excursions to any considerable distance. Providence has so disposed the bounds of our liabitation, as to pre- clude that intercourse which I can truly say I frequently recall, but never without emotions of warm affection and gratitude. Nothing but death will efface from my recollection and heart the manly sense, the dignified politeness, and Christian piety Avhich have so frequently rendered your conversation so delightful. I rejoice to hear of your health, and prosperity, and usefulness ; and that dear Mrs. Chaplin is spared to you. I bless God, that though we are separate for a time in the flesh, we are, I trust, joined in the Spirit, and permitted to make mention of each other in our prayers ; and shall shortly, 1 humbly hope, be allowed to spend an eternity together. I often think with much emotion of our dear and venerable friend and father, Mr. Palmer. I feel that I have lost a rock in him : the loss of no man in that period of life would have affected me in any proportionable degree. But, alas ! I shall probably soon follow him ; and it becomes us, it becomes me at least at my age, to make it my great concern that my own death may be holy. Inter nos, I could have wished the character of our dear friend by Mr. Toller had been a little heightened and warmer coloured. It is like a portrait that is not very defective in likeness, but has lain long in a damp place. There is one thing in your letter which gives me sincere pleasure, which is, that you have sometimes thought of favouring me with a visit at Leicester. Let it not be one of those schemes thai die in thinking of. We have a spare bed, and such accommodations as are indeed very inadequate to what you are accustomed to, but such as I flatter myself you will put up with. Be assured, there is no person it would give me more pleasure to see under my roof than Mr. Chaplin, accompanied with Mrs. C. We will divide the labour of the Sabbath. I am, my dear Sir, with high esteem. Yours most afiectionately, Robert Hall. LETTERS. 255 XLVIL TO DR. RYLAND. My dear Sir, Leicester, Oct. 25, 1815. I have ■ availed myself of the opportunity of returning your manu- script by Mr. James. I am much pleased with it, as far as it has proceeded, and, judging from this specimen, have no doubt it will give satisfaction to the friends of our invaluable deceased brother, as well as the religious public at large. I found the whole narrative respect- ing his child and his first wife exceedingly aflecting and interesting. I thiidi. you have done right in retaining it, as it sets his domestic character in a most pleasing light. It shows how perfectly compatible is great ten- derness of heart and an attention to minuter duties, with great powers of intellect and an ardent pursuit of great objects. Biographers have usually been too sparing of such details. How delighted should we have been with such an exhibition of the characters of Edwards, Howe, and other illustrious Christian heroes ! has written to Mrs. B., earnestly importuning me to review his Life of Mr. Fuller, which is completed to the last chapter. I need scarcely say that I absolutely declined, informing him that it was impossible for me to do it, without a violation of honour and consistency. I suppose his book will be out shortly. I hope and believe, however, it will not prevent your work from obtaining a considerable circulation. Though I highly dis- approve of 's publication, ii is not impossible that posterity may obtain a juster idea of the character of our excellent friend by com- paring them, than by either of them separately. I am afraid my dear brother will be as sparing of his shades as he of his lights. Though his [Mr. Fuller's] faults were trivial indeed compared to his excel- lences, yet they were in my view very apparent ; and, as is generally the case in very forcible characters, they possessed, a certain promi- nence : on the whole, however, it will be long before we look on such a iiian. XLVIII. EXTRACT FROM A LETTER TO THE REV. W. BUTTON. Leicester, Jan. 1816. When you see Mr. Ivimey, will you be so good as to give my kind respects to him, and thanks to him for his kind attention, and that of his fellow-editors. Tell him I shall take his suggestion into serious consideraiion ; but whether I shall contribute to the [magazine] or not, I cannot say. I never yet felt the smallest inclination to read or to 256 LETTERS. write in these sorts of miscellanies. With respect to the widows, anxious as I should be to promote their welfare, I have not the pre- sumption to imagine my writing would be of any material benefit. To the whole class of publications, reviews, magazines, 6ic., I avow my- self a total alien and a stranger. XLIX. TO THE REV. THOMAS GRINFIELD, CLIFTON. Rev. and dear Sir, Leicester, Feb. 5, 1816. With respect to the salvability of Socinians, for myself I feel no hesitation. Their state appears to be clearly decided by such Scrip- tures as these : " He that scrth the Son, and helievctk on him, shall have everlasting life ;" "He that hath the Son hath life, and he that hath not the Son hath not life." How can they be said to have the Son, who reject him in his distinguishing, his essential character, as the Saviour of the world ; and how can he be a propitiation for sin to them who have no faith in his blood 1 When it is asserted that we are justilied by faith, I can understand it in no other sense than that we are justified by a penitential reliance on his blood and righteous- ness. In rejecting the most fundainental doctrine of the gospel, the vicarious sacrifice of Christ, they appear to me to deny the very es- sence of Christianity. Their system is naturalism, not the evangelical system ; and therefore, much as I esteem many individuals among them, I feel myself necessitated to look upon them in the same state, with respect to salvation, as professed infidels. I am concerned, truly concerned, to find you speaking in terms so extremely disproportioned to my merits. While I feel myself gratified by the esteem of the pious and the able, praise so intemperate, I must confess, brings to my mind most forcibly the mortifying recollection of my own deficiencies. I remain, with much esteem. Your obliged Friend and Servant, Robert Hall. LETTERS. 257 TO DR. RYLAND. Leicester, April 10, 1816. My esteem for your character is such, that it is impossible for me to differ from you in opinion, or decUne complying with your wishes without considerable pain. I feel that pain on the present occasion. I am truly concerned to find your purpose is to form an auxiliary so- ciety at Bristol, to have public days, &c. &c. ; being deeply convinced of the truth of that axiom of our Lord's, that " the kingdom of God cometh not with observation ;" or, as Campbell translates it, " is not ushered in with parade." The Baptist Society has prospered abun- dantly, with the blessing of God, under a different management; and the unobtrusive modesty of its operations has been one of its strongest recommendations. That society has done much, and said little ; it has shown itself in its effects, not in its preparations. I am much grieved that it is about to relinquish that praise, and to vie with [others] in the noise and ostentation of its proceedings. It reminds me of the fable of the frog and the ox. ***** ** ******, * * Why should we at last imitate what we have so long condemned ? Why should we attempt a competition in a point of view in which we are sure to appear to a disadvantage ? The ex- pense of collecting ministers from remote places is not small ; and, supposing their expenses to be borne out of the public fund (and the situation of few allows them to travel at their own expense), it will, I fear, more than counterbalance the pecuniary advantages resulting from the efforts at publicity. I have serious apprehensions that the ostentatious spirit which is fast pervading all denominations of Chris- tians, in the present times, in the concerns of religion, will draw down the frown of the Great Head of the church, whose distinguishing characteristic was humility. He did "not strive, nor cry, nor cause his voice to be heard in the street." I am persuaded nothing can be more opposite to your own disposition than such a mode of proceeding, on which account I am the more surprised you should be induced to lend it your sanction. There appears to me a very simple and efficacious mode of supporting the Baptist mission, without noisy appeals to the public. Let every Baptist minister make an annual collection in his congrega- tion, and apply to his more opulent members and hearers besides, for their annual subscriptions ; and all the money will be raised which ought to be raised by our denomination. With respect to others, the success of the mission, attested by its periodical reports, will not fail to make the right impression. The best auxiliary societies, in my humble opinion, that can be devised, are already prepared to our hands in regular organized churches, and in the certainty of meeting some hundreds of professing Christians every Sabbath-day. I hope, my Vol. IIL— R 258 LETTERS. dear brother, you will not be offended with the freedom of these re- marks. Were I to consult my inclinations, an excursion, in the plea- sant month of July, to Bristol and to Wales would be highly gratify- ing ; but, from the consideration I have suggested, I must beg leave absolutely to decline your kind invitation. I do extremely deprecate the precedent about to be set at Bristol. Your advice respecting my intended publication came too late. It was already in the press. I hope it will do no harm, if it does no good. I think the question of very considerable importance, and the abetters of free communion have been too languid in their exertions. I intend, my dear sir, no personal reflection, but mention it as a gene- ral remark. LI. TO DR. RYLAND. Leicester, May 27, 1816. * * * I read the letters of Mr. Fuller on Robinsonianism, with much delight and approbation on the wliole; but 1 think he has, as he was rather prone, carried the matter too far. For my part, I am far from believing the innocence of mental error on the one hand, or the sinfulness of every particular error on the other. I suspect that there are religious mistakes, which result from the circumstances and the imperfections of the present state, ibr which many good [men] will never be called to account ; though I am far from supposing this extends to a denial of the great distinguishing principles of the gospel. On this occasion I am disposed to adopt the old adage. In medio tutis- simus ibis. The letters are* admirable for their piety, and their mas- culine vein of reasoning. With respect to Scotland, I must absolutely decline it. I have been already five weeks absent from my pulpit on account of illness ; and it would be extremely injurious to my congregation to incur so long an additional absence. In truth, I am little fitted for distant excursions, on account of my liability to be attacked with such violent pain, which renders me a burden to myself and to all about me. LETTERS. 259 LII. TO DR. RYLAND. (extract.) June 19, 1816. * * * I sympathize most sincerely in the joy you must feel, as a parent, from the baptism of your daughter. I hope and pray you will ultimately have the pleasure of seeing all your children walking in the truth. I already begin to feel the spiritual interests of my dear children a frequent source of painful solicitude. Let me beg an in- terest in your prayers for their conversion. LIII. TO THE REV. JAMES PHILLIPS. My dear Friend Phillips, Leicester, May 12, 1816. It is long, very long, since I had the pleasure of seeing or hearing from you. For the latter I can account, in some measure, from the displeasure you conceived at my treatment of your servant, who, at your request, called upon me in the way to Harborough. I do freely confess myself to have been much to blame in that particular. My conduct was not such as ought to have been shown to anyone ; much less to a domestic of yours, who called, at your request, to make friendly inquiries respecting my welfare. I sincerely beg your pardon, and also the pardon of the young woman, for that impropriety. In justice to myself, I must tell you how I was situated. When your servant called I was engaged in secret prayer, the door made fast. My ser- vant girl made a violent clamour at the door : I kept silence, intend- ing her to understand that it was my wish not to be interrupted at that lime. She continued, however, to knock at the door, as though she was determined to break it down. At length, I was under the neces- sity, fearing some accident, to open it ; and being much irritated at the unwelcome interruption, and at the rude carriage of my servant, when I came to understand the errand on which the young woman came, I could not surmount my agitation sufficiently to give her the reception I ought. I was visibly pettish and chagrined. Such is the true state of the case ; and I may observe, as some apology for me, that some- times the incessant interruptions I meet with, by people calling from a distance, is such, especially in summer, as to leave no time at all. sometimes not half an hour a day, that I can call my own. This operating upon a mind fond of retirement to an excess, sometimes almost drives me to distraction. The irritation and agitation it some- times produces is inconceivable. I do most devoutly wish my friend.5 R2 260 LETTERS. would never give any commission to strangers to call upon me. The sight of strangers, especially when I cannot leave them when I please, is frequently distressing to me in a very [high] degree. But, though I mention these circumstances as an apology, I am far from meaning to justify myself. I am aware of the extreme impropriety of indulging that irritability of temper, and am truly concerned at the instance of it to which I liave adverted. Let me indulge the hope, my dear friend, that this disagreeable circumstance will not put a period to that friend- ship which I have always so highly esteemed, and which has formed no inconsiderable part of the solace of my life. I have loved you ever since I knew you ; and my attachment has increased exactly in proportion to my opportunities of acquainting myself with your char- acter. I hope you will forget and overlook this unpleasant business, and permit me again to class you among my dearest friends. LIV. TO DR. GREGORY. ON THE DEATH OF MR. BOSWELL BRANDON BEDDOME. My very dear Friend, Leicester, Nov. 2, 1816. I have just received your letter, and cannot lose a moment in ex- pressing the deep sympathy I take in the affliction arising from the melancholy tidings it announces. Alas ! my dear friend Boswell Beddome ! My eyes will see thee no more ! The place which once knew thee shall know thee no more ! How many delightful hours have I spent in thy society — hours never more to return ! That countenance, beaming whh benevolence and friendship, will be beheld no more until the resurrection morn, when it will rise to shine radiant with immortal brightness and beauty. How thick and solemn the vicissitudes of death and calamity in that amiable and respectable family, the Beddomes ! What awful reverses and catastrophes ! Surely tlieir hea\enly Father must have destined them to some distinguished station in the eternal edifice, with whom he has taken such pains in hewing, cutting, and polishing. The dealings of God towards our dear Boswell have been at once severe and tender ; and never perhaps were the preparations of mercy to be traced more distinctly than in the events which have recently befallen him : the faculties extinguished for a while, to be restored ; an antedated resurrection ; as though God had determined to recast his whole nature into a crucible, previous to its being poured into the moidd of eternity. I have been delighted to hear, from various quarters. And particularly from Mr. Alexander, ot the sweet, tranquil, and devotional state of his mind subsequent to his first attack ; and had flattered myself with the hope of life being protracted to a distant period. But God's ways arc not as our ways ; nor liis thoughts as LETTERS. 201 our thoughts. After purifying our dear friend in the furnace of afflic- tion, he judged it fit to cut short his work in righteousness. Be assured, my dear sir, I deeply sympathize with you, and dear Mrs. G., both in your sorrow and your joy, on the present occasion. You have to sing of mercy and of judgment. The loss of such a parent must be long and deeply regretted ; but there is so much to console and to elevate in this event, taken in all its bearings, that the tears you shed partake of a tender triumph. Our dear friend has reached the goal, and gained the prize, which we are still doomed to pursue with anxiety and toiL May we, my dear friend, be quickened in our progress by this most impressive event, and learn, more effectually than ever, to secure the one thing needful. Your company at Leicester, and that of Mrs. G., would afford me the most exquisite pleasure : pray let me have it the first opportunity. My health, through mercy, and that of my family, are at present good ; thougli I have during the past year met with awful mementoes of my latier end. ******** I beg to be most affectionately remembered to Mrs. Gregory, and every branch of the Beddome family, in which Mrs. Hall joins me ; and remain, invariably, Yours most affectionately, Robert Hall. LV. TO THE REV. THOMAS LANGDON, LEEDS. My dear Friend, Leicester, March 12, 1817. I am extremely concerned to hear of the ill state of your health, which I fear, from what I have occasionally heard, has been declining for some time : it is my earnest prayer and hope the Lord may restore it, and spare you many years, for the good of your family and of the church. It is a great mortification to me that I am situated at such a distance as renders it impracticable for me to see you often ; but I retain, and ever shall retain, the strongest sentiments of friendship and esteem, and the remembrance of innumerable acts of kindness and attention from you in my early days. Those days are fled, and we are both now far nearer to eternity than then ; both I hope nearer to consummate blessedness. For yourself, I feel a full persuasion that your removal (may it be at a distant period !) will be unspeakable gain. To come to tlie business of your letter, I believe I am expected this year at Hull, and that it is wished to collect for the mission. As far as I can judge, it will probably be about the time you mention, in August ; but this remains to be settled with Mr. Birt, from whom I have not yet heard. When I hear from him, and the time is fixed, I will let you know ; and I hope I shall be able to comply with your 262 LETTERS. wishes, by taking Leeds in my way home, as I expect to proceed thither from Canibridse. It will considerably facilitate my executing this plan, if voar service is on a week-day, as 1 fear it will be quite out of my power to add another Sabbath to my excursion. It will give me very high satisfaction to see you once more in the flesh, if it be only for a day or two ; the time, I am afraid, must be very short. I am far advanced in my answer to Mr. Kinghorn, and expect it will be in the press in a very few weeks. I am afraid it will be a more hasty performance than I wish. It is exactly as you say : there is more difficulty in disentangling his arguments than in replying to them. He is unquestionably a clever man. I hope, however, that I have succeeded in showing the utter fallacy of the far greater part of his reasoning ; but the public must judge. I desire to be affectionately remembered to Mrs. Langdon, and remain, Your most alTectionate Friend and Brother, Robert Hall. LVI. TO DR. RYLAND. Leicester, August 8, 1817. * * * You are the best judge, but I am quite at a loss to perceive the utility of having all the missionary sermons preached at one season. Such a method of procedure makes more noise and parade than if they were preached at separate times, it is true ; and this is probably the chief motive for preferring it, with those who appear studious of osten- tation in religious exertions : but to a person of your disposition I presume it would rather be repulsive. There is something I do not like in these perpetual suggestions of Mr. , respecting the defi- ciency of your collections for the Baptist Missions. If annual collections are made in each congregation, and such individuals are solicited to subscribe who are able and disposed, what can with propriety be done more ? This perpetual struggle who shall get most money, and the theatrical and ahoininable arts exerted to procure it, prognosticate ill to the real interests of religion. There is one simple and eflectual mode, in my opinion, of promoting the mission, which has never yet been tried on any extensive scale ; namely, an annual collection in every Baptist conirregation which is attached to its interests. If such a measure were resolved upon in your association, it would soon spread to others, and would shortly become a standing practice in all our congre- gations ; and their number is such, that, with the sums which would incidentally fall in from other quarters, the pecuniary resources of the society would be as great as we ought to aspire to. As to collecting a great number of ministers together, for the purpose of making a collection, nothing in my opinion can be more injudicious. Besides, LETTERS. 263 why should more assemble than are wanted ? and what a waste of money attendant on the travelling of so many from distant parts ! I do most earnestly wish, my dear brother, you would set yourself in earnest towards promoting annual collections, and making them universal. I feel extremely concerned for the uneasiness you have felt. My poor prayers will not be wanting in your behalf: but alas ! how far am I from having power with God ! Do not, my dear brother, let your spirits sink ; you are dear to God, and he will, 1 am persuaded, support you, and bring forth your " righteousness as the liglit, and your judg- ment as the noon-day." LVII. TO WM. HOLLICK, ESQ. My dear Friend, Leicester, August 11, 1817. It is wiih great concern I have heard of your illness. Mr. Edmonds informed me [some time ago that] you were very poorly ; but I have been much concerned to hear that you have since been much worse, and that you suffer much from your complaint. Mrs. Hall and myself have been long anticipating the pleasure of seeing you shortly at Cambridge, and of renewing the pleasure we derived from our former visit. But alas ! how uncertain are all human prospects ! how vain to depend upon any thing short of the promises of " Him who cannot lie !" I hope, my dear friend, you enjoy the consolations of that religion you have been so long acquainted with, and the value of which is never more sensibly felt than under the pressure of affliction. How empty and delusive does the world then appear ; and how unspeakably cheer- ing that " good hope through grace" which the gospel inspires ! To look up to God as a reconciled and compassionate Father, — to know that " He is touched with a feeling of our infirmities," and that He " made an everlasting covenant with us, well ordered in all things, and sure," — these are wells of everlasting consolation. You, my dear friend, are, I trust, no stranger to these sure cordials and supports ; and, with these, sliould you be called to pass through " the valley of the shadow of death, you will fear no evil ; his rod and staff will comfort you." It is impossible for me to suggest any thing to your mind with which you are not already acquainted ; but, might I be permitted to advert to my own experience, I should say, that I liave found nothing so salutary as to turn the mind immediately to the Saviour: "Whosoever callcth upon the name of the Lord shall be saved." To pray immediately to Christ, to cast ourselves incessantly upon His power and grace, as revealed in the gospel, appears to be the best antidote to eve?y tend- ency to despondency. I have no doubt that we are much wanting to 264 LETTERS. ourselves in not having more direct dealings with the Saviour, or not addressing him now in the same spirit in which i% was applied to for the relief of bodily disease. He is exalted at the righi-hand of God. for the express purpose of dispensing pardon, peace, and eternal life to all that humbly seek his aid ; and, Avonderful condescension ! he has declared he " will in nowise cast out whomsoever cometh unto him." If I had not been particularly occupied with my answer to Mr. King- horn, which is now in the press, I should probably have be^n at Cam- bridge before this. Mrs. H. has suspended all thoughts of coming imder present circumstances ; but if it wou]d be any particular gratifi- cation to you to see me, I will give up every engagement in order to see you ; though it can be but for a few days. I desire to bless and adore the grace of God, in the signal change which has been wrought in the mind of Mr. N., to whom, as well as your daughter, Mrs. H. unites with me in afleclionate remembrances. I am, dear Sir, Your affectionate and sympathizing Friend, Robert Hall. LVIII. EXTRACT FROM A LETTER TO THE REV. W. BUTTON. Jan. 5, 1818. I am much surprised at the rapid sale of my sermon ; which I impute not so much to its intrinsic merit (for I think I have printed better), as to the occasion. Mr. Combe proposes to publish two editions more, making seven in the whole, as speedily as possible. I am afraid he will overdo it : if you are of that opinion, do stop him.* You will have an opportunity of judging while the fifth and sixth are selling. * The sermon here alluded to was thai on the death of the rrinccss Charlotte of Wales. Mr. Combe's anticipations as to its sale seem to have been more accurate than those of the author, for it has gone through sucteai editions. — Ed. LETTERS. 265 LIX. TO THE REV. JAMES PHILLIPS, (extract.) Leicester, March 6, 1818. What a loss would dear Mr. Hughes be to the Bible Society, and to the religious world in general ! I beg to be most afleciionately and respectfully remembered to him. Please to inform him when you see him how ardent is my desire, and that of thousands, that his most valuable life may be spared and protracted to a distant period. I rejoice to hear he is better, and hope he will be spared to the prayers of the religious public. I am quite of opinion, with you, that the admirable temper and prudence of Mr. Hughes have been as serviceable as the more brilliant talents of Mr. Owen : both admirable men, — par nobile fratrurn. LX, TO THE REV. THOMAS GRINFIELD, CLIFTON. WHAT DOCTRINES ARE FUNDAMENTAL % Dear Sir, Leicester, Aug. 5, 1818. In reply to your favour of July 2d, which ought to have been answered sooner, you will not expect me to enter deeply into the subject in the compass of a letter. A very few, and possibly very superficial, remarks must suffice. 1. Whatever opinion may be formed about fundamentals, it cannot affect the solidity of my reasoning, which is directed to this : — that no church has a right {in foro conscicntios) to demand more, as a term of communion, than that church deems essential to salvation. The evidence of this proposition is quite independent of the question, what is essential to salvation 1 2. That some truths are fundamental besides those you have enu- merated appears to me sufficiently manifest from the word of God. If Christ is set forth as a propitiation (or mercy-seat — 'i\aaTr!piov), through faith in his blood, then, faith in his blood is fundamental ; and as the apostle is speaking of him as a propitiation, faith in his blood must mean a trust in him, under that character. But how can tbis consist with his being a mere prophet or martyr, or with the denial of his atonement? Again — "As Moses lifted up the serpent ia the 266 LETTERS. "wilderness," &;c. Every orthodox interpreter supposes this is intended to represent Christ crucified, or lifted up on the cross, as a divinely- appointed source of cure to our spiritual maladies, and consequently an expectation of spiiitual benefit from him, as crucified. But how does this consist witli the idea of his death, as a mere circum- stance confirming his doctrine, exclusive of any proper influence it is supposed to exert in the pardon of sin 1 He is said to Le " the end of the law for righteousness to every one that believeth ;" then justifi- cation, or acceptance with God, is the consequence of faith in him as the great antitype and completion of the legal sacrifices and ceremonies. We are everywhere affirmed to be justified by that faiih of which he is the object ; and if the conceptions entertained by the Socinians of that object are essentially difl^erent from ours, then must their faith in that object be equally so, and one or other of them essentially defective or erroneous. I am aware I have transgressed the canon you have laid down, which excludes a reference to particular texts. I have done so, because I am by no means satisfied respecting the justness of that canon. I am at a loss how general reasoning can ascertain the point in question, exclusive of an immediate appeal to the words of Scripture. It is with God to determine what is essential to be believed in order to salvation; and his determinations on tliis subject can only be ascer- tained by attentively weighing the sense of Scripture. It is true, dif- ferent parties interpret particular passages difl^erenily : to quote these or similar passages to a Soeinian would, it is confessed, be to little purpose. But you, my dear sir, profess not to be a Soeinian : with you, therefore, the only question ought to be, Is the proposition which affirms faith in the atonement to be fundamental to salvation a legiti- mate inference from the commonly-received or ortliodox interpretation of these passages? If.it is, we must either renounce our orthodoxy or admit (however painful it may be) that inference. If the revealed method of salvation — revealed (I say) fully after the completion of the canon — is a cordial acceptance of Christ as the propitiation for the sins of the world, tliey who reject, deliberately and habitually, every idea of vicarious atonement, cannot be in that way. The beUef of the mes- siahbliip of Christ was unquestionably held by the ancient heretics, or ihey could have made no pretension to be considered as Christians in any sense ; — yet we know in what light they were regarded by the primitive Christians : and why should tliey who deny the miraculous conc(;ption, the incarnation, and the atonement of the Son of God be considered in a more favourable light? You yom-self, not satisfied with the general proposition — the mcssiahship of Christ, descend to particular doctrines, e. g. the resurrection of the dead. But to me it appears that the collective moment of the doctrines I have mentioned is far more than that of the resurrection of the body, considered apart from tlie doctrine of immortality or a future life. In short, I can see no possible medimn between giving up the doctrines already [men- tioned,] and asserting their fundamental importance ; since, supposing us to interpret aright the passages on wliich we found them, their belief is everywhere conjoined with saving- benefits. Whether we interpret LETTERS. 2ff7 these passages aright, is in no degree the question before us ; but solely, supposing our interpretation correct, whether the fundamental nature of the doctrines in question is not a necessary consequence. I return you my most sincere thanks for the favourable opinion you express of my performance ; and that you may be guided into the midst of the paths of judgment is the sincere prayer of Your obliged Friend and Servant, Robert Hall. LXI. TO THE REV. JOSEPH IVIMEY, LONDON. My dear Sir, Leicester, Feb. 20, 1819. I had intended long since to thank you very sincerely for your very valuable present of your tM^o volumes of the History of the Baptists. I think it is highly creditable to yourself, and to the denomination to which you belong. I read them both with much interest and delight, and have seldom derived equal information and pleasure from any similar work. It will be a permanent monument of your talent and devotedness to the cause of religious truth and liberty. You have brought forward a great deal of curious inibrmation, with which the public were little, if at all, previously acquainted. I was much pleased with your style of narration : it is perspicuous, lively, and perfectly unaffected. With respect to reviewing it in the Baptist Magazine, I am sorry to be obliged to put a negative on your wishes. I have the utjnost aversiop to the whole business of reviewing, which I have long considered, in the manner in which it is conducted, a nefarious and unprincipled proceeding, and one of the greatest plagues of modern times. It was infinitely better for the interests of religion and litera- ture when books had fair play, and were left to the unbiassed suffrages of the public. As it is, we are now doomed to receive our first impres- sion and opinion of books from some of the wickedest, and others of the stupidest of men, — men, some of whom have not sense to write on any subject, nor others honesty to read what they pretend to criticise, yet sit in judgment upon all performances, and issue their insolent and foolish oracles to the public. To abolish the power of reviewing would be the greatest benefit a single man could confer on the public. At the same time, while such things are, the support of one like the Eclectic, upon sound principles, becomes a necessary evil. Your work wants no such artificial props. Earnestly wishing your valuable life and labour may long be spared, I remain, with much esteem, dear Sir, Your obliged Friend and Brother, Robert Hall. 268 LETTERS. LXIL TO MRS. TUCKER. Dear Madam, Leicester, April 16, 1819. I feel myself much gratified and honoured by your kind and affec- tionate expressions of remembranr^ of an old friend, ^vho, though long detained by circumstances from personal intercourse and corres- pondence, will never hear the name of Mrs. Tucker with indifference. I am delighted to hear from you, and to learn that, with all the changes effected by time, to which you so affectingly allude, the ardour of mind and warmth of sensibility by which you were formerly distinguislied remain unimpaired. How wonderful, how complicated the mazes of pro- vidence tlirough which we are conducted in our pilgrimage to eternity ! Could we foresee the trials which await us, the agonies and vicisshudes we are called to pass through, life would be insupportable ; but we are led, like the blind, by a way that we know not, and strength is dealt out just in proportion to our day. Let us, my dear friend, look forward, and remember that our salvation is nearer than when we first believed. Let us hope that the fiercest part of our mortal warfare is passed, and that the evening of life will be more tranquil than the morning and the noon. May our deep experience of the mutability and vanity of the present shadowy state be improved into a perpetual motive for cultivating that heavenly-mindedness which is the only effectual antidote to the miseries of life. With respect to my visiting Plymouth, I have heard nothing of it from any quarter ; and should I be invited on the occasion you mention, it will be utterly out of my power this summer to comply with it. My engagements are already too numerous. But of this, my dear madam, be assured, that should my steps be directed to Plymouth at any time during your life, I shall never for a moment think of taking my abode but at your house, with your permission, should I be invited by a prince. You little know me if you suppose that rank and fashion would have the smallest influence in inducing a forgetfulness of ancient friendship. My chief inducement to visit Plymouth would be the pleasure of once more seeing and conversing with Mrs. Tucker. With my kindest remembrances to Mr. Tucker, I remain, Dear Madam, Your affectionate Friend, Robert Hall. LETTERS. 269 LXIII. TO THE REV. THOMAS LANGDON. My dear Friend, Leicester, Ja7i. 11, 1820. As Mr. Ryland is passing through to Leeds, I take the liberty of troubling you with a t'ew lines, just to let you know how I and my family are, and to express my undiminished affection and attachment to one of niy oldest and best friends. I look back with renewed pleasure on the scenes through which we have passed, and deeply regret that Providence has placed us at such a distance from each other that our opportunities of intercourse are so few. I hope the period will arrive when we shall spend an eternity together, and look back with mingled wonder and gratitude on all the way the Lord God has led us. What a scene will that present when the mysterious drama shall come to a close, and all the objects of this dark and sub- lunary state shall be contemplated in the light of eternity ! " O could we make our doubts remove, Those gloomy doubts thiit rise, And see tlie Canaan that we love With unbeclouded eyes." T am very sorry to hear that you have been so much afflicted with your asthmatic complaint. It is high time you retired from your school, and procured a house nearer your meeting. I am persuaded your long evening walks are extremely prejudicial. Do, my dear friend, be prevailed upon to give up your evenmg lectures. It is what you owe to your family to be as attentive as possible to your health. " Do thyself no harm," is an apostolic injunction. I was much aflected to hear of the death of dear Mr. Robert Spear. It must have been peculiarly distressing to die amiable youth I saw at your house. He was a most excellent man, and has no doubt had an abundant entrance into tlie joy of his Lord. May we be followers of those who thus inherit the promises. My health is, through mercy, very good. Mrs. Hall is at present very much indisposed by a bad cold and oppression of the lungs, but through blistering and bleeding is, through mercy, better. Let me indulge the hope that next summer you and Mrs. Langdon will visit me at Leicester. Be assured that the company of no friend would give me more pleasure. Please to remember me affectionately to Mrs. Langdon, to your family, and to all inquiring friends as if named. I am your affectionate Friend and Brother, Robert Hall. 270 LETTERS. LXIV. TO A GENTLEIMAN AT TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE. Dear Sir, Leicester, April 30, 1821. I am considerably at a loss how to answer your letter. I sincerely sympathize with you in the perplexity you experience on a very high and awful subject. For my own part, I acquiesce in the usual and popular interpretation of the passages which treat on the future doom of the finally impenitent. My reasons, in brief, are as follows : — I assume it as a maxim, that we are utterly incompetent to determine, a priori, what is the amount of guilt incurred by such as reject the overtures of the gospel, any further than God has been pleased to make it the subject of express revelation; that the terms expressive of the duration of future misery are as forcible as the Greek language supplies ; that the same term is applied to the duration of misery as to the duration of happiness, or even the eternity of God himself (Matt. XXV. 46 ; Rev. xix. 3) ; that the exclusion of the impenitent from hap- piness is asserted in the most positive terms — " They shall not see life," &c. &c., that " their worm dieth not, and their fire is not extinguished ;" that positive terms may be understood in different degrees of latitude, but this is impossible respecting negative terms, since a negation admits of no degrees. If the eternal misery of a certain number can be rendered conducive to a greater amount of good in relation to the universe at large than any other plan of action, then the attribute of goodness requires it ; for I take it for granted that the Supreme Being will adopt that scheme, whatever it be, which will produce the greatest quantity of happiness on the w4iole. But our faculties are too limited, and our knowledge of the laws of the moral world, and of the relation which one part of the universe bears to another, too imperfect to enable us to say that this is impossible. For augiit we know, therefore, the existence of eternal misery may not only consist with, but be the necessary effect of, supreme goodness. At all events, it is a subject of pure revelation, on the interpretation [of which] every one must be left to form his own judgment. If the milder interpretation can be sustained by a prepon- derating evidence, I shall most sincerely rejoice ; but I have yet seen nothing to satisfy me that this is the case. I would only add, that in my humble opinion the doctrine of the eternal duration of future misery, metaphysically considered, is not an essential article of faith, nor is the belief of it ever proposed as a term of salvation ; that if we really flee from the wrath to come, by truly repenting of our sins, and laying hold of the mercy of (iod through Christ, by a lively faith, our salvation is perfectly secure, whichever hypothesis we embrace on this most mysterious subject. The evidence accompanying the popular interpretation is by no means to be compared LETTERS. 271 to that which establishes our common Christianity ; and therefore the fate of the Christian religion is not to be considered as implicated in the belief or disbelief of the popular doctrine. Earnestly wishing you may be relieved from all painful solicitude on the question, and be guided by the Spirit of God into the paths of truth and holiness, I remain, Your obedient humble Servant, Robert Hall. LXV. TO RICHARD FOSTER, JUN., ESQ. Dear Sir, Leicester, July 21, 1821. I thank you for your kind favour (which I should have acknowledged sooner, but was not at home), including a draft for 111., and odd. With respect to my sermon on the Trinity, I entered into no metaphysical disquisition whatever : I merely confined myself to the adducing passages which go to prove a plurality of persons in the blessed Godhead ; such as the plural name of God in the Hebrew, the use of plural pronouns, the injection of plurals in the name of God coupled with singular verbs, the use of the terms Makers, Creators, &c. I adduced Isaiah, saj'ing, " The Lord hath sent me and his Spirit," &c. From the New Testament I mentioned the baptismal form, the salutation to the Corinthians. To these I added the principal passages usually adduced in proof of the divinity of Christ and the personality of the Spirit. In short, it was a mere appeal to the letter of Scripture, without the smallest attempt at metaphysical refinement. I considered that doctrine continually as a doctrine of pure revelation, to which reasoning can add nothing but darkness and uncertainty. It appears, however, to me replete with practical improvement, being adapted to exhibit the part which each person in the blessed Trinity sustained in the economy of redemption in the most engaging light, and to excite the utmost, ardour of gratitude. The time was when I main- tained the dual system, supposing the Holy Spirit to be an energy ; but I have long found abundant reason to renounce that doctrine, and now find much complacency in the ancient doctrine of the Trinity. As you mention the [meeting-house] being shut up, I hope it is to heighten h. I have no doubt that the extreme heat and closeness of the place must have a very injurious effect on the health both of the minister and people. I hope you continue comfortable, and that the Lord is giving testimony to tlie word of his grace. The interest of religion in a church which I served so long and so happily will ever lie near my heart. I am your affectionate Brother, Robert Hall. 272 LETTERS. LXVI. TO THE REV. ISAIAH BIRT. My dear Sir, Leicester, May 29, 1822. I am much obliged to you for your very clieerlul coinpliance with my proposal respecting supplying and preaching for our school during my visit to Kidderminster. It is an arrangement which gives high satisfaction to our people. The prospect of spending a little time with my dear and honoured friend is, I confess, my chief inducement for proposing it. I should be very unhappy if I did not spend a little time with you, at least once a year; and as Providence has happily placed us in the same general vicinity, I shall always eagerly embrace the opportunity it aflbrds. Friendship is the balm of life ; and the thought that time must dissolve, ere long, the tie that has so long united us, would be melancholy indeed, were it not for the consoling recol- lection of a reunion in a better world: "Let us love one another, for love is of God ;" and I hourly hope we are both training up for a world of perfect love. I am certain of it respecting 7jou, O that I had as great an assurance respecting myself! But I have a feeble hope, which I would not exchange for a world '. With respect to the other part of the arrangement, having heard nothing from Tamworth as yet, it seems premature to say any thing of it. But I must say that T can by no means comply with it. My lecture is on Wednesday, to which I justly attach a great importance ; and the arrangement you mention would occasion my absence two Wednesdays, which I would not incur for any ordination whatever. Ordination services, as they are now conducted, I consider as of more show than use. The presence of one or two ministers, along with the church, accompanied witli prayer and laying on of hands, and a few serious exhortations, would be a genuine Scriptural ordination. No- thing can be more distant from this than the manner in which these things are at present conducted. Suffice it to say, that I can by no means consent to be absent two lectures for such a purpose. You may, therefore, expect to see me on Friday at Birmingham. I beg to be most affectionately remembered to dear Mrs. Birt, and to dear Mrs. Tucker and her husband. I am your afTectionate Brother, Robert Hall. LETTERS. 273 LXVII. TO THE REV. THOMAS LANGDON, OF LEEDS. ON THE DEATH OF HIS DAUGHTER. My dear Friend, Leicester, January 9, 1823. I am much concerned to hear of the heavy bereavement with which it has pleased God to afflict you and dear Mrs. Langdon, by the un- expected removal of your most amiable daughter. I never saw a young female whose character impressed me with higher esteem. I cannot wonder for a moment that your tears flow freely on her account. It is, indeed, a most severe and afflictive stroke, which none but a parent, and the parent of such a child, can duly appreciate. I feel myself highly honoured and gratified in the recollection of having possessed any share in her esteem. Still, my dear friend, there is much mercy mingled with the severity of the dispensation. It is an unspeakable mercy to be able to reflect on the decided piety of the dear deceased, which so eminently prepared her for the event you so deeply deplore. Nor is it a small alleviation of the anguish resulting from such a stroke, to reflect that the time is short, and the end of all things at hand. Painful as is the thought to all your friends, to you, my dear friend, it must be familiar, that, in all probability, her separation from you will be but of short duration ; and that she has entered, a little while before you, into that blessed eter- nity for which you have long been waiting. LXVIIL TO THE REV. THOMAS GRINFIELD, CLIFTON. ON HUTCHINSONIANISM. Dear Sir, Leicester, March 4, 1823. I must beg your pardon for not sooner replying to your favour, in which you condescend to inquire my opinion on the subject of Hut- chinsonianism. The reason of my delay was my conscious inability to give an opinion entitled to any degree of weight. I have been in the habit of considering Hutchinsonianism as a tissue of fancies, unsup- ported by reason or Scripture ; and all that has occurred to me to read on that system, has confirmed that impression. I have attentively perused Parkhurst's Dissertation on the Cherubic Figures in the Tem- ple : it appears to me a most confused and unsatisfactory disquisition ; nor is he able to answer, in any tolerable degree, the objection arising from their being represented in the attitude of worshippers. He Vol. IIL— S 274 LETTERS. attempts to get over this by observing, that though the divine Persons whom they represent could not without absurdity be represented in the character of worshippers, their symbols might : but this is to me utterly unintelligible. He is evidently much embarrassed with the four faces ; a most unlikely symbol of a Trinity. I am equally dis- satisfied with his notion of the three elements of air, light, and fire being intended as natural types and symbols of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. For this there appears to me not a shadow of proof. The metaphors of Scripture afford none whatever ; as is evident from this one consideration, that the figurative language of Scripture is in- terpreted as naturally and as easily without the aid of the Hutchinsonian hypothesis as with it. What is that sort of typical instruction which never instructed 1 And where is the people to be found, where the individual, who learned the doctrine of the Trinity from the works of nature 1 I cannot suppose it would ever have suggested itself to a single mind, had it not been commmiicated, probably, among the earliest revelations of God. My utter despair of deriving any solid benefit from these specula- tions must plead my excuse for not occupying my attention in any attempt to investigate the merits of the system more closely ; and I am truly concerned to hear that Mr. B. designs to write upon the sub- ject. I am afraid it will have no other effect than to strengthen exist- ing prejudices against evangelical doctrine. I am, dear Sir, with much esteem, Yours most respectfully, Robert Hall. LXIX. TO THE REV. IN REPLY TO A REQUEST TO WRITE A REVIEW. My dear Friend, Leicester, Nov. 16, 1823. You have put me on a most irksome task ; and were the request to come from almost any other quarter, I should refuse to comply with- out a moment's hesitation. I find it difficult to deny you any thing ; but, really, you could scarcely have proposed any thing to me more disagreeable. I think very highly of your son's publication ; so that my objections arise in no degree from that quarter. But, in the first place, I am far from being satisfied of the propriety of suffering the sentiments of private friendship to prevail in a review. A reviewer professes to be a literary judge ; and his sentence ought to be as un- biassed as that of any magistrate wliatever. But what should we think of a judge who permitted himself to be tampered with by either party concerned, with a view to procure a favourable decision ? In the exercise of his censorial ofllice, a reviewer ought to have neither friends LETTERS. 275 nor enemies, [t is an adherence to this maxim which can alone secure the dignified impartiaUty of criticism, or entitle it to the smallest degree of credit. A work like your son's does not need artificial sup- port ; and one of an opposite description does not deserve it. Your son should rest calmly on his own merits, with a becoming confidence that an enlightened public will not fail to do him justice. There was never a period in my life when I would have stooped to solicit a review. I speak on the supposition of the application originating with him. In the next place, when it is known I have complied in this instance, I shall be harassed with innumerable applications. , in par- ticular, will have the justest reason to complain : for he has at different times most vehemently importuned me to review particular works, which I have steadily refused ; and the only method I have found to shield myself from his importunities has been to renounce reviewing altogether. I think it probable he would not admit my review ; I am sure he ought not, for the reasons I have assigned, and I have laid him under no such obligation as to induce him to depart from the straight-forward path. I do not suppose I could bring myself to speak higher of the work than an impartial reader would do ; and what ad- vantage, then, could be derived from my reviewing it ? But supposing I did, where would be the justice to the public ? You perceive, my dear friend, the difficulties which surround me, and the reasons why, in my humble opinion, the interference of friendship should not be allowed in such cases. I write altogether in the dark. You have not informed me in what Review you would wish me to write ; nor do I know whether it has been reviewed already. I am not at all in the habit of reading either the Eclectic or any other Review : indeed, I wish the whole tribe could be put an end to. LXX. TO MR. J. E. RYLAND. (extract.) Leicester, 1824. * * * I cannot write but upon some specified subject; and tJiat subject must be something Avhich suggests itself spontaneously to my tlioughts. I feel an insuperable repugnance to the bending of my mind to the suggestion of othei-s : it must be free as air, or I cannot move to any purpose : whatever I write must originate entirely with myself. Though I have no objection to gaining money, yet my love of it is not sufficiently strong for it to have any sensible influence in directing my literary exertions. There are several subjects, which I have revolved in my mind, to which I feel a decided preference \ and if I present mvself to the public at all, it must be in tjie discussion of S2 276 LETTERS. these. As to Pascal, few admire him more than myself: but, in writing an introduction, 1 should feel myself quite out at sea; I should float without any determinate direction ; my mind would have no de- terminate object; and, not having a distinct idea of what I wished to do, I should do nothing to any purpose. For elegant and specious decla- mation, I have no sort of talent. I must have a brief; I must have some- thing like a fixed thesis, some proposition I wish to establish or illus* trate, or I feel perfectly cold and indifferent. For my part, I let every man pursue his own plans : how it is that I am doomed to be the per- petual object of advice, admonition, expostulation, &;c. (fee, as a writer, I know not. I am sure it does not arise from any proofs I have given of superior docility. I know myself so well as to be distinctly aware that importunities of this kind have always the effect of indisposing me to their object. I should have written more had I been urged less ; and when the public cease to dictate to me, I shall feel myself ray own master. LXXI. TO MRS. LANGDON. ON THE DEATH OF HER HUSBAND. My dear Madam, Leicester, Oct. 23, 1824. The melancholy intelligence of the death of dear Mr. Langdon has deeply affected me ; and most happy should I deem myself were it in my power to administer effectual consolation under such a stroke. I refrained from addressing you immediately, waiting for the first trans- ports of grief to subside ; because I well know that premature attempts to console only irritate the sorrows they are meant to heal. Let me indulge the hope, that by this time reason and religion are come to your aid, and that you are prepared to say, with the greatest and most illustrious of sufferers, "Even so, Father; for so it seemeth good in thy sight." The remarkable combination of the most lovely qualities with the most fervent piety, which distinguished the character of our dear friend, while they enhance the sense of your loss, will, I hope, mitigate its bitterness in another view, by assuring you that " great is his reward in heaven." Death to him is, undoubtedly, " exceeding great gain ;" nor would vou, in your best moments, wish to draw him down from his elevated abode, to tliis vale of sorrow and afHictioii. The stroke was not entirely sudden and unexpected : a long series of attacks and infirmities must, no doubt, have contributed to familiarize your mind to the event. Remember, my dear madam, that the separation is but for a season ; our dear friend is not lost, but preferred to an infinitely higher state, where lie is awaiting your arrival. To me his removal LETTERS. 277 will long be a source of deep regret ; for where shall I find a friend equally amiable, tender, and constant?* I beg to be most affectionately remembered to each of your dear children, earnestly praying that their father's God may be their God. Wishing and praying that you may be favoured with the richest con- solations of religion, I remain, my dearest Madam, Your affectionate Friend, Robert Hali,. LXXII. TO J. B. WILLIAMS, ESQ., SHREWSBURY. Dear Sir, Leicester, March 29, 1825. Some apology is necessary for not having sooner acknowledged your very kind present of your new and highly improved edition of tlie admirable Philip Henry, Avhom you have the honour, I find, of enume- rating among your ancestors. It is a descent with which you have more reason to be satisfied than if you could trace your pedigree from the Plantagenets. I waited only until I had time to renew my acquaint- ance with the Life of that amiable man, and to form an estimate of the improvements it has derived from diligent researches. I have not yet entirely completed the volume ; but I am now busy in doing so, and have read enough to satisfy myself of the great obligations you have conferred on the public by this excellent work. The additional documents and letters by which you have enriched and enlarged the original narrative, constitute a treasure of wisdom and piety, for which you are entitled to the warm acknowledgments of every Christian reader, and especially of every dissenter. May a double portion of his spirit descend on the rising generation of ministers ! The labour and research requisite for furnishing such a repast must have been great ; but not more so, I dare say, than the pleasure you derived from the consciousness of conferring so important a benefit on the public. Permit me to thank you, most sincerely, for the favour you luive done me by the bestowment of so valuable a present. It were highly desirable that more such biographies of the illustrious dead, improved and enlarged as this, might be given to the public : if it had no other fruit than to withdraw their attention a little from that farrago of periodical trifles, by which the public mind is dissipated, and its taste corrupted. ****** I remain, dear Sir, Your highly obliged Friend and Servant, Robert Hall. * Mr. I.angdon and Mr. Hall had been fellow-students at Bristol ; and ever after cherished for eacli other the warmest esteem aiid affection. — Ed. 278 LETTERS. LXXIII. TO MR. J. E. RYLAND. My (Har Sir, Leicester, May 21, 1825. I am ex.remely concerned to hear the melancholy account your letter contains of the situation of your dear and honoured father, at the same time that 1 feel grateful to you for the communication. I had heard previously that he was supposed to be in a declining state ; but, little imagining he was so ill. your letter gave me a violent shock. With God all things are possible ; and who can tell but the Lord may yet raise him up, and assign him more work to do before he is taken to his eternal reward ? It is my earnest wish and prayer that such may be the result. His loss will be most deeply felt, not only by his afflicted family, but by a very numerous circle of friends, and by the church ol' God at large. For himself, all is and will be well ; nothing can possibly befall him but what will be highly to his advantage. A man of a more eminently holy and devoted spirit than that of your dear father it has never been my lot to witness, and very, very few who made any approach to him. I feel, in theprospect of his removal, much for the family, the academy, and the church. You, my dear sir, together with your very excellent mother and sisters, will be the objects of a deep and extensive sympathy : but God, whose ways, though mysterious, are always gracious and merciful towards them that fear him, will, I doubt not, sustain and support you under this afflicting stroke, and cause it afterward to work the peaceable fruits of righteousness. His prayers will draw down innumerable blessings on those who were nearest and dearest to him ; for who can doubt that the prayers of such a man must avail much ? The impression of Ids example and the memory of his virtues will suggest a most powerful motive to constancy, patience, and perseverance in the ways of God. You will never cease to bless God for having bestowed upon you such a parent. His humdity, meekness, tenderness, devotedness to God, and zeal for the interests of truth and holiness, will long endear him to the Christian world, and make his name like the odour of precious ointment. What, in the event of your dear father's removal, Avill become of the academy and the church ; I tremble to think of tlie consequences : never, surely, could he have been spared with more serious injury to the most impor- tant interests ! May the eyes of all of us be [turned] to God for his direction and blessing ! I should have written to your dear father himself, but feared it might agitate and disturb him. I beg you to remember me to him in the most earnest, respectful, and affectionate terms, and assure him of a deep interest in my feeble prayers. I beg, also, to be most affectionately remembered to your dear mother, sisters, and every part of the family. That the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob may take your dear father under the cover of his wings, — and LETTERS. 279 should he walk through the valley and shadow of death, afford him his rod and his staff, — and that this most affecting visitation may- be sanctified for the eternal benefit of all the parties concerned, is, my dear sir, the earnest prayer of Your most aflectionate and sympathizing Friend, Robert Hall. LXXIV. TO MR. J. E. RYLAND. (extract.) 'Leicester, May 29, 1825. * * * It gives me much pleasure, but no surprise, to hear that the end of your dear father was emphatically peace. What else, or what less, could be expected from such a life ? As he was one of the brightest examples of holiness on earth, no doubt great is his reward in heaven. May it be your happiness, my dear sir, and mine, to follow, though at an humble distance, so bright a pattern. May we not be slotliful, but followers of them who, through faith and patience, inherit the promises. I need not repeat how much I feel for your dear mother, and the whole bereaved family. It is, indeed, an irreparable loss ; but such is the tenure of all earthly bliss. May we be enabled to lay hold on eternal life ! LXXV. TO MRS. RYLAND. ON THE DEATH OF DR. RYLAND. * * * Permit me, my dear madam, to express the deep sympathy I, in common with innumerable others, feel for you under your irreparable loss. The magnitude of it none can adequately estimate but yourself: but it is consoling to reflect, that you are not called to sorrow as those that have no hope ; that, on the contrary, our loss is his unspeakable gain. And the time is short: a very few years will put an end to all our sorrows ; and, if we are the Lord's, will re- unite us to all those whom we have most loved upon earth. As you have been highly distinguished by the blessing of possessing such a companion for life, so it is no inconsiderable honour to have contributed so essentially and so long to the felicity of the best of men. All who know you will ever respect you, not only as the relict of Dr. Ryland, biu as the distinguislied individual who entitled herself to his gratitude by such a series of unremitting attentions and kind offices 280 LETTERS. (the remembrance of which must be a source of melancholy pleasure), as will doubtless draw down a blessing from Him to whom he was dear. It is my earnest prayer, that the God who reveals himself as the father of the fatherless and the husband of the widow, may take you under his especial protection, and supply you with those rich and ineffable consolations which are neither few nor small. We have the word of Him that cannot lie, to assure us that " all things shall work together for good to them that love God." That you may feel more of liis sustaining hand, and of his bhssful presence, is, dear madam, the earnest prayer of Your affectionate and sympathizing Friend, Robert Hall. LXXVI. TO MR. ARTHUR TOZER,* BRISTOL. IN REFERENCE TO MR. HALL's REMOVAL TO BROADMEAD. My dear Friend, Leicester, July 19, 1825. I am very sorry your kind letters have remained unanswered so long: it was the consequence of their arriving while I was absent from home. I did not arrive at Leicester till last Saturday, having staid at Ketter- ing, in order to preach for the mission, which I did morning and evening. The letters from you ought, in all reason, to have been sent forward; but this was impracticable, because my whole family were, at the same time, on an excursion for their health. I hope you will be so good as to accept this as a sufficient apology for my apparent neglect. Had I been guilty of any voluntary one towards a friend whom I so highly esteem, I should never forgive myself. It is impossible for me to hear the favourable opinion whicii you and the rest of my friends entertain of me, without being deeply sensible of their kindness. I feel myself most unworthy of such an expression of their regard ; the consciousness of which, while it enhances my gratitude, impairs my pleasure. Could I see my way clear to leave Leicester, I should still tremble at the thought of being placed in a situation in which I must necessarily sustain a comparison with your late beloved and lamented pastor. In an affair of so much magnitude, I should wish to avoid whatever might wear the appearance of precipitance ; and on that account, should the church at Broadmead see fit to give mc an invitation to the pastoral office, I should wish to be allowed some time before I give a decisive answer. On some very obvious accounts I should prefer Bristol, perhaps, to any other situation ; and the state of the church at Leicester * Mr. Toicr was one of ilie deacons of the church ai Broadmeail. LETTERS. 281 IS far from being precisely as I could wish. Still the aspect of things is brightening ; the clouds I trust are beginning to disperse ; and an important step has already been taken towards the restoration of mutual confidence and affection. I feel at present inclined to believe it is my duty to stay at Leicester. I wish most earnestly to be directed from above, and that the few remaining years of my life (if any are allotted me) may be passed where they may best subserve the best of causes. I am not at all given to change : I have long fixed it in my mind that it was the design of Heaven that I shall finish my days here ; and had nothing occurred to disturb our tranquillity, I should not have indulged a thought to the contrary. I do most earnestly bespeak an interest in your prayers, that my way may be directed of the Lord ; and that "for me to live may be Christ, and to die gain." Pecuniary considerations, as you suspect, will have little influence in guiding my determination. I beg to be most affectionately re- membered to all inquiring friends, and remain, dear sir, Your affectionate Friend and Brother, Robert Hai.l. LXXVII. TO THE SAME. My very dear Friend, Leicester, August 11, 1825. I should have sooner written to you but on two accounts ; first, the almost ceaseless interruptions I have met with since my return from London, which have kept me in a perpetual hurry ; and second, my inability, even at present, to give you the satisfaction you wish by a decisive answer. Sensible as I deeply am of the unmerited tokens of respect shown me by my Bristol friends, and solicitous if possible to comply with all their wishes, I still feel difficulties in the way, which I know not how to surmount. The church at Leicester is much agitated on the occasion, and have evinced great unanimity in their resolution to adopt the speediest and most effectual measures in order to remove the principal source of my uneasiness. There appears to be but one feeling pervading the church and congregation. AVhat success may attend their eflbrts to restore peace God only knows ; but should they be successful, I shall find it very difficult to separate myself from them. To inflict the pain it would occasion to many excellent persons and kind friends would cost me a conflict for which I feel myself little prepared. In truth, the motives for staying in my present situation, and the motives for relinquishing it, are so equally balanced, that I am kept still in a state of suspense ; and am habitually under some appre- hension, that whatever choice I make, I shall be apt to repent not having made an opposite one. It is certainly an humbling consideration, not to be able to come to a speedier decision ; but I feel tlie weight of the affair, and that the consequences of it, both to myself and others, 282 LETTERS. will probably be greater than can result from any future step in my life. I earnestly implore an interest in your prayers, that the Lord would be pleased to direct me, and that, wherever the bounds of my habitation may be fixed, " Christ may be magnified in my body,'whether by my life or my death." The greatest annoyance of my life, for some years past, has arisen from not being able to command my time, particularly in the morning ; and could I be assured of my possessing this inestimable privilege, the poorest and most neglected village would possess irresistible charms for me. The afternoon and evening I have always been wiUing to abandon to the use of others ; but to have no time I can call my own, — to be liable to have the most precious hours of reading and meditation snatched from me, — is an evil, to one of my temperament, almost insupportable. Now I greatly fear this evil would be increased at Bristol. One advantage I should enjoy at Bristol (the want of which I severely feel here) is, access to books ; but what will this avail me, if I have no time to read them ? I have carefully inspected the documents relating to Terril's deeds, brought by Messrs. Sherring and Phillips. It is my decided opinion that the pastor of Broadmead is under no obligation to prepare young men for the ministry, unless they are presented to him for that purpose ; a tiling most unlikely to happen, when such ample means of education are already provided. Should it occur, however, he has only to make liis election, either to comply with the demand, or to relinquish his interest in the establishment. As to the fear of incurring penalties, it is too ridiculous to be thought of. All this, however, I most cheerfully leave to the determination of the trustees ; for if ever I was sincere in any thing, it is when I declare that pecuniary considerations will have no influence in my decision. To deteriorate my situation would be injustice to my family : beyond that, I have no solicitude. I beg to be most affectionately remembered to Mr. James and my sisters, and all friends, as if named. I remain, dear sir. Your afli'ectionate Friend and Brother, Robert Hall. LXXVIII. TO THE SAME. My very dear Friend, Lcicrstcr, Oct. 3, 1825. I am as much ashamed as any of my friends can be, to keep them so long in suspense respecting my determination in regard to removing to Bristol. I l'(!el it to be of so much importance to my own happiness, and in the relation it bears to the spiritual interests of a large body of people, both here and at Bristol, that I tremble at the thought of coming to a final decision. My inclination, I confess, stands towards ]}ristol. 'i'he reasons are obvious : two sisters, justly dear to me, residing there ; a place dear to me from ancient recollections, and LETTERS. 283 from the most enchanting scenery ; access to books, a want which I most grievously feel here ; many old friends, or the families of old friends, whom I much love and esteem ; a superior description of society ; and, I may add, equal, if not superior, prospects of usefulness. These, it must be acknowledged, are weighty considerations, and I feel them in their full force, insomuch that I feel myself incapable of relinquishing the thought of Bristol Avithout a pang. On the other hand, I most sensibly feel the difficulty of leaving a people who are most affectionately attached, and a congregation which I have, through mercy, been the instrument of raising from a very low to a very flourishing state. The certainty of giving great uneasiness to many excellent and worthy friends, and of being accessary to the injury of aij interest which ouglit ever to be dear to me, presses much upon my mind : it is, indeed, the grand difficulty I feel in the way of leavijig Leicester. I tremble at the thought of destroying what I have been the means of building up. I tremble at the thought of rushing into a sphere of action to which I am not called, and, it may be, of oflending God by deserting my proper post. As it is the last remove, in all probability, I shall ever be tempted to make before I am conveyed to the " house appointed for all living," I feel extremely anxious that it may be made with the Divine approbation, conscious that my times are in the Lord's hands. I desire most sincerely to acknowledge him in all my ways. O that I might hear a voice behind me, saying, " This is the way, walk thou in it !" My mind is much perplexed, my resolu- tion not decided. I feel a conflict between opposite motives, and am drawn by contrary attractions ; though, were I to consult my inclina- tions alone, I should certainly decide for Bristol : my advanced period of life, and the apprehension of its possible, if not probable, effects on the interests of religion, form the grand objections. One thing I must beg leave to mention, that were I to settle with you, I should decline taking any share in the monthly lecture. In the united prayer-meeting I should engage with pleasure. I have but little opinion of the utility of the first of those meetings. On the whole I must request one month more, and at the end of that time (if my life is spared) you may reckon upon my giving you a decisive answer. During that interval, I will again seek Divine guid- ance ; and I humbly hope I shall receive it. At all events I Avill not keep you longer in suspense, and am truly concerned at having exercised your patience so long. I beg to be most affectionately remembered to Mr. Holden, and thank him sincerely for his kind letter. My best regards await all inquiring friends. My love to dear Mr. and Mrs. James, and my sister. I remain, my dear Sir, Your afi'ectionate Friend and Brother, Robert Hall. 2S4 LETTERS. LXXIX. TO THE SAME. My dear Friend, Leicester, Dec. G, 1825. I have just time at present to inform you that I have come to a determination to accept the invitation the church and congregation of Broadmead have thought fit to give me, on the following terms : that I make trial of the situation for one year, and that at the termina- tion of it, if it shoidd not answer our mutual purposes, each party, i. e. the church and myself, shall be at liberty to separate. I do not say this from the smallest desire that the union may not be permanent ; I earnestly hope and pray that it may : but futurities are in the hand of (Jod ; and if the change of situation should be found materially to affect my health, which at my stage of existence is equivalent to life, or if the ends we propose are not answered, I may be at liberty, after a fair trial, to dissolve the connexion, without incurring the charge of levity and inconstancy. If I shall be spared to come, it will be with the hope and intention of living and dying among you, nor shall I cherish any expectation of change ; but imperious reasons, connected with my happiness and usefulness, may arise to determine me to the contrary, of which I shall probably be able by that time to form a judgment. I write this in haste, as I expect Mr. Daniell every moment, who is setting out at two o'clock. I shall address a letter to the church in a few days : I purpose to direct it to you ; when you will be so good as to forward it, or read it to the church. 1 have only one thing to request, and that is of great importance ; that you will grant me an interest in your prayers, that my way may be prospered, that I may be kept from falling, and that my removal to Bristol may be instrumental to the conversion of sinners, and to the building up the church in faith and holiness. Let me beg you, my dear and honoured friend, not to forget me at a throne of grace. My assurance of this on your part, and on the part of my friends in general, would add unspeakably to the comfort of, My dear Sir, Your affectionate Friend and Brother, Robert Hall. P. S. — I beg my love to Mr. and Mrs. James, and sister Mary. Kind remembrances to all friends. LETTERS. 285 LXXX. TO THE CHURCH OF CHRIST ASSEMBLING IN BROADMEAD, BRISTOL. ON ACCEPTING THE PASTORAL OFFICE. My dear Brethren, Leicester, Dec. 21, 1825. After long and mature deliberation, and earnest prayer, I write these lines to inform you that I accept the invitation you have been pleased to give^me to the pastoral office. That it may become a mutual bless- ing, and that you and myself may reap the fruit of it, in the glory of God, the spiritual improvement of each other, and the conversion of sinners from the error of their way, will, I trust, continue to be, as it has already been, the object of your frequent and fervent supplication to the throne of Grace. Be assured I feel deeply my utter inability for the adequate discharge of the weighty duties which devolve upon me, and particularly my unfitness to walk in the steps of your late venera- ble pastor. My only hope amid the discouragement arismg from this quarter is placed in " your prayers, and the supply of the Spirit of Christ Jesus." Conscious as I am of innumerable imperfections, I must rely on your candour for a favourable construction of my conduct, and reception of my labours. Permit me, my dear brethren, to con- clude, by " recommending you to God, and to the word of his grace, which is able to build you up, and to give you an inheritance among all them that are sanctified by the faith of Jesus." I remain, dear Brethren, Your affectionate Friend and Brother, Robert Hall. LXXXI. TO THE REV. P. J. SAFFERY, OF SALISBURY. Dear Sir, Leicester, Jan. 16, 1826. I duly received your favour, and cannot be insensible to the honour you have done me, in wishing me to assist at your approaching ordi- nation, by delivering a charge. I am sorry you appear to lay so much stress upon it, because it makes me the more uneasy in putting that negative on your wishes which my judgment and my inclination dictate. As I intend to avoid engagements out of Bristol as much as possible, and very rarely, if ever, to officiate at ordinations, I can by no means consent to begin my career there by an engagement of that nature, which would at once, by giving erroneous expectations, be productive 286 LETTERS. of much inconvenience. Nearly all the spare time I can command from my proper station will necessarily be occupied in visiting the connexions among which I have lived, and where I have numerous old and tried friends, Avho must be ever dear to my heart. As to ordinations, it has long been my opinion that they are best conducted by the presbyters or elders of the immediate vicinity of the party ; and that to step beyond that circle is to sacrifice or impair the chief bene- fit of that practice, which is the putting a wholesome check on the abuse of the popular suffrage, by making it impossible for a minister to establish himself at the head of a congregation without the appro- bation and sanction of the circle of pastors witli whom he is to act. It is an affair in which the church are chiefly or solely concerned ; and thougli the calling in a stranger on such occasions may attract a greater audience, it is, in my humble opinion, at the expense of more important objects. For these and other reasons that might be adduced, you must allow me firmly, though most respectfully, to decline the service you have been pleased to assign me ; and, to cut off any occa- sion of [discussion,] I must request the favour of [your] accepting this reply as final. I cannot close these lines, however, without expressing the pleasure it affords me to find you are likely to succeed your excellent father. That a double portion of his spirit may rest upon you is, dear sir, the sincere desire and prayer of Your sincere Friend and humble Servant, Robert Hall. P.S. — I beg to be respectfully remembered to your excellent mother, though personally unknown. LXXXII. TO THE REV. DR. J. P. SMITH, HOMERTON. Rev. and dear Sir, Bristol, Nov. 3, 1826. I have to complain of a good deal of misrepresentation in what is stated in your letter, as having passed in my interview with Dr. Malan. The (;onvf'rsations (for they were two) passed at my house, not at Clifton. He was insisting much on the absolute necessity of the full assurance of our personal salvation, which, as he appeared to carry it to a great extent, led me to remark tliat it seemed to me a most desirable attainment, and what every sincere Christian ought to seek after with diligence, rather than as essential to the very [existence] of religion. And in the course of conversation, I confessed that I had it not myself. At this he expressed his surprise, and began with emphasis to recite that passage in John's epistle, " He that believeth that Jesus is the Christ is born of God." His discourse to me on this subject was not satisfactory. Part of it was not very intelligible ; LETTERS. 287 and part, as far as I did understand it, was injudicious, and bordermg on enthusiasm. I certainly was extremely struck with the indications of exalted piety and love exhibited by his whole deportment, and par- ticularly his countenance. I must confess there was something in his looks that reminded me more of the ideal picture I have formed of the Saviour, than I ever saw before in any human being : and as I am too prone to express myself in the style of hyperbole, it is to that part of his character that the expression your letter quoted must be understood to allude. Though I am certain I never used some of the words imputed to me, particularly those in which I am represented as saying, "AH other men were brutes and beasts compared to him." I am equally a stranger to the words and the ideas, you may depend on it. I never acknowledged the little success of my sermons arose from my ministry not being accompanied with the baptism of the Holy Ghost. He observed that my printed discourses (of these only he spoke) wanted simplicity : nor was I at all concerned or surprised at that ; for he found much fault with Maclaurin's, on " Glorying in the Cross of Christ," which he accused of the same defect, observing that it exhibited the truth, but did not exhibit his Master ; a remark which appeared to me (as I observed to him) very unintelligible. I never gave thanks aloud that Dr. Malan was brought to Bristol ; nothing of the kind ever passed from me. I probably did (indeed I know I did) express myself much gratified in having an opportunity of a personal interview ; and I parted from him with much esteem and affection on my part. I thought him, on the whole, a very extraordinary man ; though much more to be admired for his ai'dent piety and lively imagi- nation than for judgment or profundity. Even on his favourite topic of assurance he seemed sometimes to retract all that he had asserted. I did not hear him [preach ;] but I learned afterward that his hearers generally went away with the impression of their having heard very new doctrine. If Dr. Malan has given the statement you have copied, I am heartily sorry for it, because it is extremely inaccurate, and must necessarily diminish the high regard in which I held him. Thus I have given you, my dear sir, a brief outline of what passed ; and most earnestly wish you every degree of success in your labours to maintain the truth as it is in Jesus. I am, dear and Rev. Sir, With very high esteem, your affectionate Friend, Robert Hall. N. B. — Permit me to return my most sincere thanks for your admirable defence of the divinity of our Lord Jesus Christ against Belsham : it will benefit the church, I trust, as long as the English language lasts. 288 LETTERS. LXXXIII. TO W. B. GURNEY, ESQ. ON THE DEATH OF MRS. GURNEY. My dear Friend, Bristol, August 25, 1827. It is H verj' few days since I heard the very melancholy intelligence of the removal of dear Mrs. Gurney ; and I was not willing to obtrude on the sacred privacy of grief till its first agitation was in some measure subsided. Most deeply is this stroke felt, and long will continue to be so, by that very large circle of which she was the ornament and delight ; but how much more severe the stroke on him who was united to her by the tenderest of earthly ties ! To me the information was like a thunderclap : it was so sudden, and so unexpected, that I could scarcely persuade myself it was a reality ; it seems now like one of those frightful visions of the night which vanish at the return of dawn. Alas ! hoAV fresh in my mind is the figure of the dear deceased, presiding in the social circle v'ith that inimitable ease, elegance, and grace which captivated every heart : — changed now, and clouded for ever with the shades of death ! Never was a victim snatched by the ^reat destroyer more beloved, or more lamented. But why should I dwell on what is so distressing to remember, rather than advert to the brighter side of this melancholy picture! You, my dear friend, have lost the richest of earthly blessings in a most admirable and amiable wife ; but grace has completed its triumph in adding to the celestial choir one more spirit of " the just made per- fect." Bright as she shone in her earthly sphere, her light was dim and obscure compared to that which now invests her. Her pure and celestial spirit has ascended to its native seat, where she " bears the name of her God on her forehead, and serves him day and night in his temple." Your loss, my dear friend, is her unspeakable gain ; and your mind is too generous in your calmest moments to wish her hurled from her celestial elevation. Let a few more months and years revolve, and you will be reunited to part no more ; the days of your mourning will be ended ; the Lord will be to you (as he is already to the dear deceased) "your everlasting light, and your God your glory." I hope you will not suffer the excess of grief so to absorb your mind as to shut out the consolations of piety, or the claims of duty. It is my earnest prayer that God himself may comfort you, and that he may be pleased so to sanctify this most heavy trial, that though " faint," you may be " still pursuing ;" and that, though you " sow in tears," you may " reap in joy." 1 beg to be most affectionately remembered to every branch of your family, as well as to all inquiring friends ; and remain, with deep concern, Your affectionate and sympathizing Friend, Robert Hall, LETTERS. ^ 289 LXXXIV. TO EBENEZER FOSTER, ESQ. My dear Sir, Bristol, Jan. 29, 1829. I safely received your favour of the 20th instant. It gives me great pleasure to infer from your letter, that the health of your family, and particularly of your elder brother, is in a tolerable state. The death of Mrs. must have been felt very severely by your excellent consort, to whom I beg to express a deep and sincere sym- pathy. I was greatly affected when I heard of it, and shall ever carry with me a grateful and affectionate sense of the uniform kindness with which she treated me, as well as of the many amiable and interesting traits of her character. It would have given me pleasure to have been informed what were her views and feelings in the prospect of eternity : I hope she exhibited that state of mind, on the approach of that awful crisis, which must prevent surviving friends from " sorrowing as those who have no hope." I have lately heard with much concern of the alarming illness of my dear friend ; — but have rejoiced to learn subse- quently that considerable hopes are entertained of his recovery. While events of this nature present a striking commentary on the solemn declaration that " all flesh is grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of the field," it is consoling to remember that " the word of the Lord endureth for ever ;" and that, by the preaching of the gospel, it is more extensively promulgated than ever. The intelligence you have just given me of the rapid extension of evangelical religion in Cambridge is highly gratifying ; nor can I en- tertain any serious apprehension of ultimate injury resulting from thence to the dissenting interest. If something like competition should have the effect of giving increased momentum to the exertions of both parties, the public may be benefited, and both improved. With respect to my health, I can say little that I could wish to say. Some small abatement of the violence and frequency of my old com- plaint has, I tiiink, of late been experienced : but it is very inconsid- erable ; and the last' night it prevented me getting a wink of sleep until after seven o'clock this morning. On this account, I can speak with no sort of confidence of my intended visit to Cambridge, further than this, that I feel a most anxious desire of enjoying it, and that nothmg but absolute necessity will prevent me from making the attempt ; and, as travelling on the outside is much the easiest to me, it will not be prudent to undertake it till the summer is tolerably advanced. I have little intelligence to communicate worthy of your attention. I continue to be very happy with my people, from whom I daily receive every demonstration of affection and respect. Our attendance is as good as I could wish ; and we have added to the Baptist church,* * To render this phrase intelligible to some readers, it may be proper to observe, that in the congre- gation at Brondinead there are two classes of persons who are associated in church-l'ellowsliip : one consists of tliosfi only who have been baptized in adult age, on a confession of faith ; while the other consists jointly of such and of Pedobaptists. The former are " strict communion Baptists," and constitute the Baptist church : the latter furnish an example ol " mixed coiamunion." — Ed. Vol, III.— T 290 LETTERS. during the last year, twenty-seven, and six are standing candidates for baptism. For these tokens of Divine presence I desire to be thankful. Mrs, Hall and my family are, through mercy, as well as usual ; and join witli me in most afiectionate regards to every branch of your family, and to the Cambridge circle of friends in general. I beg to be most affectionately remembered to dear Mr. , and to assure him of my deep sympathy with him under his heavy and irreparable loss. It is my fervent and sincere prayer it may be sanctified. > I remain, my dear Sir, Your obliged and affectionate Friend, Robert Hall. LXXXV. TO JAMES NUTTER, ESQ., SHELFORD, NEAR CAMBRIDGE. My very dear Friend, Bristol, Feb. 16, 1829. I heard with much concern of your late alarming illness, and, witli a proportionate degree of joy of your partial recovery, and of the pleasing prospect presented of your yet surviving for years, to be a bless- ing to your family and connexions. It grieves me much to learn from Mr. Price, that you have experienced something like a relapse, and that your situation is considered still critical and precarious. However the Lord may dispose of you (though it is my earnest prayer that your days may be prolonged to a distant period), I cannot adequately ex- press my satisfaction at finding you are favoured with such an expe- rience of the consolations of religion, as to enable you to comfort your sorrowing friends, and to bear so glorious a testimony to the power and grace of the Redeemer. O, my dear friend, how precious is a merciful Saviour in the eyes of a dying sinner ! When the heart and flesh fail, he can adopt the triumphant language of Simeon, and say, " Now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation." You will never, my dear friend, to all eter- nity, be able sufficiently to magnify the riches of Divine grace, in adopting you into the family of the Redeemer, and making you " an heir of glory." I earnestly hope the spectacle they have witnessed will have a most beneficial effect upon the younger branches of your family, in con- firming pious resolutions, and convincing of the emptiness, the nothing- ness, of all which the world admires, compared to an interest in Christ, and a preparation for heaven. In the prospect of life there are manif things which are adapted to animate and support ; in the near approach of death, there is but " the hope of glory." It is my earnest prayer that this hope may slicd its briglitest beams on the mind of my dear and highly esteemed friend. As to myself, my health is in such a state that 1 can say nothing of the future : but your wishes will be with me LETTERS. 291 so far a law, that if my complaint will permit me during the early part of the summer, I shall accede to Mr. Price's request, by officiating at the opening of his meeting-house. * ******* Earnestly praying that every blessing maybe communicated to you which a covenant God has to bestow, I remain Your most affectionate Friend and Brother, Robert Hall.* LXXXVI. TO EBENEZER FOSTER, ESQ., CAMBRIDGE. My dear Sir, Bristol, Feb. 5, 1831. I acknowledge not sooner answering yours. * ******* I have little or no intelligence to communicate, further than that our city is much agitated by political discussion and the strife of parties. A meeting was lately held of the friends of reform, to petition on its behalf; but it was most stormy and tempestuous. Though all con- curred in the general object, violent disputes arose on minor points, which distracted the discussion, and rendered it a scene of tumult and uproar. Such, of late, has been the general character of public meetings at Bristol. For my part, I never attend tliem. Indeed, the complaint in my back renders it impossible for me to stand ; and to lie down would neither be decent or practicable. Conversation is almost entirely occupied by the all-absorbing theme of politics ; nor is it to be wondered at, when we consider the equivo- cal and anomalous state of this and of almost all other countries. Some great crisis appears to be approaching, which will probably shake Europe to its centre, and produce some entire new order of things. Shall we ultimately escape a war ? I have great confidence in the pacific views of our present mmistry, but less in their continuing in power ; nor do I perceive what measures they can adopt that will materially alleviate the distress of the lower orders ; and, unless this can be done, a [great convulsion] is, I fear, inevitable. At all events, one great source of consolation remains : " the Lord reigneth ; and blessed are all they that put their trust in him." By-ihe-way, it gives me pleasure to find that attempts are making in London to dissolve the union between the orthodox and the Socinian [dissenters.] I most heartily wish them success. It is a most unnat- ural and preposterous union, and tends, above any thing else, to give an imposing air of importance to the Socinian [party,] which, but for this coalition, would sink into insignificance. It is odious in the eyes of * This letter did not reach Shelford until the day after the death of the excellent individual to whom it \vas addressed.— Ed. T2 293 LETTERS. pious churchmen, and tends to throw a disguise over the real state of the dissenters, in relation to their religious tenets. But I must close, and am afraid I have already occupied too much of your valuable time. Mrs. Hall and my family are in tolerable health, and desire to unite with me in most affectionate regards to you and your family, and to your dear brother and his family, Mr. and his lady, &c. &c. I Avould just add, that I [derived] considerable benefit, in relation to the determination of blood to the lungs, [from] my visit to Cheltenham. I remain, my dear Sir, Your most affectionate and obliged Friend, Robert Hall.* * This letter ,was WTitten only four days before Mr. Hall's last illness, and sixteen before his death.— Ed. SERMONS. SERMONS. THE SPIRITUALITY OF THE DIVINE NATURE. Isaiah xxxi. 3. — The Egyptians are men,, and not God; and their horses flesh, and not spirit* [preached at CAMBKIDGE, APRIL 14, 1822, AND AT BRISTOL IN AUGUST, 1824.] Among the sins to which the ancient IsraeHtes were addicted, one of the most prevailing was, a disposition, in seasons of invasion or calamity, to place confidence in the power of surrounding nations, and to seek the assistance of their sovereigns, instead of trusting in the living God. By this they frequently incurred Divine chastisement, and in some instances even Divine dereliction. Egypt, being the largest monarchy in their immediate neighbourhood, was frequently their refuge in times of distress and difficulty. Their guilt in thus departing from God was greatly aggravated, on account of the intimate relation . to them which he sustained as their king and sovereign, by virtue of which he had engaged to protect them by his mighty power so long as they adhered to his service and allegiance ; while the frequent manifestation of his uncontrollable dominion over the natural world displayed in the signal deliverances he had wrought for them, rendered the transfer of their confidence from him to " an arm of flesh" equally criminal and foolish. " Wo to them," saith the prophet, " that go down to Egypt for help ; and stay on horses, and trust in chariots, because they are many ; and in horsemen, because they are very strong ; but they look not unto the Holy One of Israel, neither seek the Lord !"t Then in a strain of pointed irony he severely reproves their preference, by reminding them that God possessed those qualities of foresight and force which justified entire dependence ; and that whatever grounds for confidence they fancied to exist in the character of the Egyptian potentate, were found in a degree infinitely greater in that of the Almighty — " Yet he also is wise, and will bring evil, and * Printed from the notes of Joshua Wilson, Esq. See p. 16-19, for Mr. Hall's brief notes of the same sermon . t Isaiah xxxi. 1. 296 SPIRITUALITY OF THE DIVINE NATURE. will not call back his words" (alluding to the conduct of Pharaoh,' wlio had often broken the promises and violated the engagements he had made) : " but will arise against the house of the evil-doers, and against the help of them that work iniquity." He will not only arise against the workers of iniquity, but against their helpers also ; and will cause them all to fail together ; " for the Egyptians are men, and not God ; and their horses flesh, and not spirit." In these words we are reminded of an important and infinite disparity between God and man ; arising from a great peculiarity in the character of the former, which rendered the Egyptian monarch and his cavalry infinitely inferior to Him in power, and all those other qualities which entitle the possessor of them to confidence and trust. It is my design to suggest to you some of those views of the char- acter of the Supreme Being, inseparably connected with the spirituality of his nature, wherein he stands contrasted with all other beings whatever. I. The spirituality of the Deity is intimately connected with the possession of that infinite unlimited power which renders him the proper object of entire confidence. There is a vulgar prejudice in favour of matter and agamst spirit, as if the former were possessed of great force, wliile the latter is only in- vested with a feeble degree of energy. Hence, in contemplating the operations of the elements of nature producing great and important changes, we are apt to think of matter, and of matter in its most gross and palpable form. This prejudice arises from our mistaking second- ary and remote effects for causes, allowing them therefore to ter- minate our view, instead of ascending from those laws of nature M'hich God has established, to himself the supreme cause. These changes certainly indicate the existence of great power, which, at the first view, we are apt to connect with the material part of the system. We are also acquainted in a measure with the mechanical forces, and, seeing that these are exerted through the medium of matter, we are thence led to suppose that to be the source of power. We find that we are incapable of operating on matter, of moving even an atom by a mere act of our will ; a material medium is necessary to enable us to produce the slightest change on the olijects of nature ; and if a material sub- stance is brought to bear upon them, the most important effects are produced. We have no power of operating on the objects immediately around us, but by means of our bodies ; and the changes that take place are alwaj^s connected with certain motions in them, which enable us to come into contact with the visible world. Hence we are apt to terminate our ideas of power in matter. But in these cases it is mind, and mind alone, wliich is the seat of power. The influence which our bodies have upon other bodies, whereby their relative position is changed, is merely a secondary cfl'ect — an eflect of that act of will which produces the motion of our bodies. The power by which all changes are effected through tlie instrumentality of the body resides immediately in the mind. It is that mysterious principle, called Will, which the Divine Being has invested with a control over the various SPIRITUALITY OF THE DIVINE NATURE. 297 parts of our bodies ; nor have we power to alter the state of a single external thing, in the least degree, except by means of volition, which is a mental power, operating immediately upon the body. No other account can be given of this capacity, but that the Divine Being has endowed us with instantaneous control over the muscular parts of our bodies. We can conceive nothing intermediate between the act of the will and the movement of the muscles. So complete indeed is the dominion of muid over matter, that the moment we will a certain motion in the body, it takes place, and thus only are we enabled to efiect changes in the system of surrounding nature. We probably derive our idea of power from the changes we see effected in this manner ; but all these changes resolve themselves into acts of tiie will. It is therefore plain that power resides in the mind, and that matter is in these respects only the instrument of mind, which in the first instance acts, which alone properly acts, and becomes the author of all the subsequent changes. Mind, indeed, to a certain extent, and within a certain sphere, is absolute power ; and whatever motions it wills instantly take place. Though we are far from supposing for a moment that the Divine Being is the soul of the universe, or that he bears the same relation to the visible world as the soul does to the body — a notion replete with absurdity and impiety ; yet the power which the mind exerts over the whole of our corporeal system may afibrd an apt illustration of that control which the Deity exercises over the universe. We will a certain motion in the muscles of our body, and immediately it takes place ; nothing is perceived to intervene be- tween the act of the will and the subsequent motion. By the mysterious constitution of our nature, we are capable, from a very early period of life, of putting into instantaneous motion the right set of muscles for producing a certain change ; but nothing intervenes between the volition and the change. In vain do we inquire how this takes place, because we can find nothing which comes between the operation of the will and the change produced in our corporeal frame. Conceive the Divine Being as a spirit, having the same dominion over the invisible universe, in every part of space, as that which our minds possess over every portion of our bodies ; and then you will perceive, faintly at least, the origin of that power the indications of which are so visible throughout the universe.- He has only to will the most important changes, and they are instantly accomplished. " He speaks, and it is done ; he commands, and it stands fast." " He said. Let there be light, and there was light." No causes intervene between the volition and the change which ensues, for the will of the Deity is itself the effect. Being an infinite Spirit, and coming into immediate contact with all parts of the universe, he is capable, by a mere act of will, of effecting all possible changes in the same manner, but in an infinitely higher degree, as we are capable, by an act of our will, of causing certain motions in the muscular parts of our body, and thus producing changes in the external objects around us. We shall find it impossible to give any account of innumerable changes which are continually- taking place in the visible world, with- 298 SPIRITUALITY OF THE DIVINE NATURE. out tracing them up to mind. There cannot be a clearer proof of a Deity than the existence of motion. This evidently appears not to be essential to matter, because we see a very great portion of the material universe without it. Not being therefore an original state of matter, but merely an hicident, it must be an effect. But since matter, not being intelligent, cannot be the cause of its own motion, and yet we cannot conceive of any atom beginning. to move witliout a cause, that cause must be found out of itself. Whatever may be the nearest cause, or the number of secondary causes, though innumerable por- tions of matter may be reciprocally moved, — though the series of linlis in the chain through wliich motion is propagated may be indefinitely mukiplied, — we must, in order to arrive at the origin of these various phenomena, ascend to mind, terminate our inquiries in spirit ; nor can we account for the beginning, much less for the continuance and extension of motion, unless we trace it to the will of that Being wlio is the cause of all causes — the great original mover in the universe. Power is, therefore, the attribute of mind ; instrumentality that of body. When we read in the Old Testament of the most exalted achieve- ments ascribed to angelic spirits, we cannot suppose that it is owing to any gross materialism which they possess ; on the contrary, they have no bodies capable of being investigated by our senses ; and in proportion as they are more attenuated do they possess greater power. We have reason to believe that all finite minds are under the direction of the Supreme Power, who, without destroying their accountability or interfering with their free agency, makes all their operations subser- vient to the accomplishment of his counsels. Hence all opposition to the Deity is beautifully represented by Isaiah, as if the instrument should rebel against him that wields it, as if " the rod should shake itself against them that lift it up ;" or " the staff should lift up itself against him that is no wood."* All created beings, in this respect, are but instruments in the hand of the Deity, whose will is sovereign over them. The Divine Being, as the great Father of Spirits, combines within himself all the separate energies found in the universe. He is the source, origin, and fountain of all power diffused through creation. The very minds which he has formed are kept in mysterious subordi- nation, and can never overstep the bounds he has assigned them. " Once have I heard this, that power belongs unto God." II. The spirituality of God stands in close and intimate connexion with his invisibility, or tliat property by whicli he is completely removed from the notice of our senses, especially that of siglit. This is one of the perfections claimed by him in sacred writ, one of the attributes wliich the Scriptures ])erpetually ascribe to him. He is styled by the apostle Paul, the " King eternal, immortal, i7wisib'te" — " the blessed and only i'otentate," — " ichom no man hath secji, nor can see.'''\ " No 7nan" said our Saviour, " hath seen the Father at any time.'''' He is the imrisible God. Were he the object of sight, he * Isaiah x. 15 ; Bishop Lovvth's translation. f 1 Tim. vi. 15, 16. SPIRITUALITY OF THE DIVINE NATURE. 299 must be limited. Whatever manifestations he may make of himself, it is utterly impossible that his essence, or He himself, should ever be the object of our corporeal sensations ; for these extend only to visible and sensible objects. He cannot therefore be represented to the human imagination, or be figured out by any art or skill of man, agreeably to the sublime discourse of the apostle to the Athenians.* He was pleased, indeed, in former times, to afford to his ancient people in the wilderness, and afterward in the tabernacle and the temple, some outward tokens of his presence; but these were not any display of his essence. Moses, when warning the people against forming any graven image, or picture of the Deity, expressly declares that they "saw no manner of similitude on the day that the Lord spake unto them in Horeb."t The third commandment contains an express injunction against exhibiting any representation of the Deity to the eyes of man- kind. Hence we may perceive the great impiety of those sects of Christians in different parts of the world, especially of the Church of Rome, who have attempted to paint and figure out the persons of the Trinity, in express contradiction to this divine edict, " Thou shall not make to thyself any graven image,"| &c. The worship of that erroneous and idolatrous church consists very much in acts of homage paid to these external representations ; and, though her advocates profess that they are offered to God through them as media, are too often, we cannot but fear, terminated upon them, and thus supplant that spiritual worship which the Divine Being claims in consequence of his being a spirit. We need not wonder, therefore, at the pains taken by that church to suppress the second commandment ; entirely omitting that precept in some of her formularies, and dividing another commandment into two, to make up the number ten. The necessary ell'ect of any attempt to exhibit the Deity to the human senses by pictures or images, must be to degrade, to an incalculable degree, our conceptions of him ; partly as it circumscribes what is unlimited, and partly as it is adapted to mingle the passions and affec- tions of the human nature with our conception of the Divine. The notion of an Infinite Being is utterly inconsistent with any outward figure or shape, which would confine, to a certain determinate portion of space, Him who declares of himself, '■'■ Do not I Jill heaven and earth V and thus limit the infinite presence and majesty of the great Eternal. No sooner do men attempt to make the Dehy an object of their senses, than they begin to think him altogether such a one as themselves. Descending from the high and holy place where the Divine Being dwells, the mind, accustomed to contemplate him under a visible form, gradually sinks lower and lower in approximation to its own level, till at last men come to conceive of him as compassed with infirmities like themselves. Hence, where such representations of Deity have prevailed, images of other beings, more suited to their gross taste, have been introduced: at first angels ; but at length, by a natural process, the chief place in their religious affections has * Acts xvii. 24-29. f Deut. iv. 15. * Exod. xx. 4, 5. 300 SPIRITUALITY OF THE DIVINE NATURE. become occupied by the Virgin Mary, and other saints of inferior character, who have received much greater abundance of these marks of devotion and homage than the Supreme Being himself. So impos- sible is it for the Church of Rome to purge itself from the charge of that idolatry which the Scriptures most severely denounce. Were there no other reason to deter persons from the communion of that church, her profane tampering with the very elements of devotion, and poisoning the first principles of religion, were alone sufllcient to in- spire all true Christians with the utmost abhorrence. For the same authority which forbids the transfer of worship from a right to a wrong object, also stigmatizes all deviation from the prescribed standard, in the manner of worshipping the Divine Being himself. Could we see nothing of a tendency to lead on to greater abominations in this " chamber of imagery," till it terminate in hero and idol worship, nay, in the worship of wood and stone, it is expressly forbidden ; and this prohibition is alone sufficient to stamp it with the character of impiety. III. That God is a spirit, and not flesh, is inseparably connected with his immensity and onmipresence, or the capacity of being present in all parts of his creation. Omnipresence is an attribute which both reason and scripture teach us to ascribe to the Deity, and which he repeatedly assumes to him- self: "Am I a God at hand, saith the Lord, and not a God afar off? Can any hide himself in secret places that I shall not see him 1 saith the Lord. Do not I fill heaven and earth 1 saith the Lord."* " Whi- ther," says the Psalmist, " shall I go from thy spirit 1 or whither shall I flee from thy presence ? If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there : if I make my bed in hell, behold thou art there. If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea ; even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me. If I 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."t We are taught to believe that the essence of the Divine Being is dif- fused over all space — that there is not an atom existing in its bound- less extent which he does not fill with his presence and energy. Were his nature material this could not be, for the following reasons : 1. It is necessary that matter should have some figure, without which we cannot even conceive it to exist, whether we regard it as a whole, and include the aggregate of material substances, or look at the several portions of which that aggregate consists, and contemplate its parts as having a separate existence. Figure seems essential to the conception of all matter ; but that which has any assignable figure must be circumscribed within a certain outline ; there must, then, be some point of space where it terminates, and where vacuity begins, consequently it must be limited. To conceive, therefore, of the Divine Being as material, would be to involve ourselves in absurdity; for * Jer. xxiii. 23, 24. t Ps. c.\x.\ix. 7-12. SPIRITUALITY OF THE DIVINE NATURE. 301 matter infinitely extended implies a contradiction, by uniting two op- posite and irreconcilable suppositions. 2. If matter were unlimited there would be no possibility of motion ; but this is a supposition contrary to fact and experience ; for we per- ceive that motion everywhere exists. It is obvious that there could be no motion unless there were some space not previously occupied by body. In a perfect plenum, motion would be impossible, because there would be no possibility of conceiving that space into Avhich the first moving body might pass. 3. If the Divine Being were material, it would be impossible that he should be infinite in his essence, fill all space, penetrate all substances, pervade all minds ; because, on that supposition, he would render im- possible the co-existence of created beings^ We cannot conceive of two portions of matter occupying the same part of space. Were the Deity therefore material, he must exclude from the space he occupies all other matter ; and since he is infinite, that exclusion must be per- fect and entire : but this, being contrary to physical fact, is certainly contrary to intellectual truth. Whereas God, being a spirit, subsists in a totally different manner from all material substances ; his manner of existence being altogether peculiar to himself, and such as we cannot adequately conceive. It follows, however, that any material substance and the Divine Being are capable of being present in the same place, at the same time, without destroying each other's properties and attri- butes. Such a Being also can be equally present at one and the same moment in innumerable myriads of worlds, and to all parts of the universe The Infinite Spirit is present with every part of his creation, as in- timately as the soul of man is present throughout all the parts of that corporeal substance which it animates and sustains. His essence is diffused over all space. He is intimately present with all his creatures, as intimately as they are to themselves, is perfectly acquainted with the thoughts of all intelligent beings, unites himself with the very con- stitution of their nature. They exist within the grasp of his omnipo- tence, within the perpetual comprehension of his presence, within the sphere of his energy, and the light of his countenance. " In him they live, and move, and have their being." We frequently speak oi" God dwelling in the world, by the manifestations of his power and providence ; but it may with equal truth be said, that the world dwells in God ; all creatures being surrounded by his presence, and enclosed in his essence. We cannot for a moment conceive of such a being as separated from any part of the universe, or point of space : all creatures, spiritual and material, subsist in Him who, maintaining his own sepa- rate existence distinct from the external world, exercises absolute uni- versal dominion over all the beings he has formed. This particular property of his nature, this peculiar mode of his existence, renders him capable of being the all-comprehending God, of holding in his own hand all the innumerable creatures he has formed. 302 SPIRITUALITY OF THE DIVINE NATURE. IV. Because God is a spirit, and not flesh, he is possessed of infinite wisdom and intelHgence. This seems to be a necessary properly of that Being, who, himself unbounded and fiUing all thmgs, must be present to all his creatures at all times, with the same plenitude of perfection as at the first moment of their creation. We cannot conceive for a moment of any interval between him and them, which might exclude them from his view. They must ever be in immediate contact with him, and tlie objects of his perpetual vision. He is not obliged to change his place in order to observe and take cognizance of them. This presence of God with liis creatures being infinite and eternal, his infinite acquaintance with them seems to be a necessary consequence. He that formed all things does not quii any portion of his vast empire when he retires to " the high' and secret place of his sanctuary :" he needs not to vary his position towards his creatures, in order to obtain a more advan- tageous situation, or catch the benefit of changing lights, for the pur- pose of making a more accurate scrutiny of any of them ! Every one is as much within his survey at one moment as at another ; he is con- tinually present to them, with the same plenitude of power as that which was exerted in their formation out of nothing. Every movement, both of spirit and matter, is performed " in him," and must therefore be immediately within his notice. It is impossible that any thing should elude or escape the light of his countenance, or that any dark- ness should cover from his view those beings which he has created. Hence he is perfectly acquainted with the thoughts of all hearts, and the secret springs of all the actions of his rational intelligent creatures. We are obliged to judge of men's character by their actions ; he judges of their actions by their motives : we can only trace the streams, and by them judge of the fountain whence they proceed ; he penetrates the hidden spring and source: we form a few conjectures of what is passing in man, by the outward exhibitions of his conduct ; he, in con- sequence of the knowledge he possesses of the very constitution of those beings who have been called into existence by his divine power, detects at once the secret springs of all their actions. — " Man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh at the heart." He qualifies all our actions by immediate attention to the motives whence they proceed : the motive is that which determines the action in his sight, and his judgment is always according to truth. " By him actions are weighed." While we are continually liable to be mistaken, and our judgments and censures, often rash and misplaced, are always un- certain ; his eye pierces the thickest shades of darkness. The gloom of midnight and the splendour of noon are only distinctions with respect to us ; in regard to him, there is no difl'erence : " With him the night shinclh as tlic day, the darkness and tlie light are both alike to him." There can be no folly therefore so great as for a creature to attempt to conceal himself from the inspection and scrutiny of his Maker. He is within us : "in him we live, and move, and have our being." We need no other proof that he knows the secrets of the heart, than iliat he is present with its most liidden recesses. Hence, in the Psalm SPIRITUALITY OF THE DIVINE NATURE, 308 already referred to, the Psalmist infers his infinite cognizance of his creatures, from the fact of his incessant and intimate presence with them. The infinite knowledge which God has of his works is indeed inseparably connected with this part of his character. As the Infinite Spirit — the great Father of spirits — he is the source of all the intelli- gence and wisdom which exist in created spirits. He must be per- fectly acquainted with all the operations and results of all other minds, since he has constituted them, and they are entirely the eflect of his own intelligence and wisdom. When the heathen world lost sight of the spirituality of God, they also lost sight of his omniscience ; and after gradually sinking lower in proportion as they receded farther from that view of his character, their notions of him became at length so debased that they invested him with a corporeal form. The spirit- uality of the Divine nature, having been attested by the Saviour, and made one of the principles of his religion, has raised the conceptions of the human mind far beyond what the greatest philosophers could previously attain ; and enabled children to surpass, in both spiritual and intellectual illumination, the sages of pagan antiquity. ******** V. The doctrine of the spirituality of the Divine nature establishes a most intimate relation between him and all his intelligent creatures : it becomes a bond of the most subtile union between himself and the intellectual part of the creation. He stands in close and intimate relation to all creatures : their de- pendence on him is absolute, their subjection to him constant and incessant ; but in a special manner is he the Father of spirits. The relation between father and child is very intimate, but that between God and man is much more so. An earthly parent is but the instru- ment, God is the author of our existence ; one is the father of the flesh, the other of the spirit. In proportion as the spirit is the most important part of human nature, this relation which we sustain to God is most essential, interesting, and extensive. The body connects us with the material universe around us ; the soul connects us immediately with the Deity. At death, the body returns to the earth, its native element ; " the spirit returns to God, that gave it." The body has a tendency to separate us from God by the dis- similarity of its nature ; the soul, on the contrary, unites us again to him by means of those principles and faculties which, though in- finitely inferior, are of a character congenial with his own. The body is the production of God, the soul is his image To estrange ourselves from God is therefore to be guilty of a new and most enormous kind of off'ence : it is forgetting our proper parent, — losing our great portion, the very source of our existence. To love him, to seek union with him in the closest manner possible, is to return to our proper original, — to seek Him from whom all our powers are derived, and by whom alone they can be sustained in time, and must be consummated and completed in eternity. If you were to see a person manifest no desire for the presence of an earthly parent, you would be shocked at the spectacle, and would be ready 304 SHRITUALITY OF THE DIVINE NATURE. to represent him as a prodigy of ingratitude. How much more would it affect a well-constituted mind to behold a creature seeking estrange- ment from his Heavenly Parent^ — living in forgetfulness of Him ! This would appear matter of the greatest astonishment were men to withdraw themselves from sensible objects, and retire into their own minds for the purpose of serious reflection. The prophet calls on heaven and earth to sympathize with him in this emotion : " Hear, 0 heavens, and give ear, O earth : for the Lord hath spoken, I have nourished and brought up children, and they have rebelled against me."* # * * #* * * * VI. The spirituality of the Divine nature renders him capable of the exalted prerogative of being the satisfying portion, the supreme good of all intelligent beings. It is in consequence of being a spirit that he is properly fitted to be the Supreme Good ; not merely the dispenser of those outward benefits which gratify the corporeal appetites, and sustain our trans- itory state in this world ; not only the author, but the immediate source, the very element of our happiness — in consequence of those properties of his nature which are congenial with our own. Many are Avilling to acknowledge their dependence on the power and providence of God for those gootl things the possession of which the world calls happiness, such as riches, honours, pleasures; they expect to be made happy by means of his influence over inferior creatures, exerted in putting things in a train for that purpose. But the devout man ascends to God himself, as the source and spring of happiness, in the contemplation of whom, and in whose friendship and love, con- sists eternal life: he regards him as the highest good, the source of felicity to the intelligent universe, the very principle of good. The Psalmist recognised the Divine Being under this character, and he has been so recognised by the faithful in every age and everj' nation ; " The Lord is my portion, saith my soul ; therefore will I hope in him. The Lord is good unto them that wait for him, to the soul that seeketh him."t We find holy men casting their eyes round upon all that is in heaven and on earth .... then collecting all into one great aggregate, and solemnly rclinquisiiing the whole, trampling it in the dust, in order to ascend to God and rest in his love. *' Whom," says the Psalmist, " have I' in heaven but thee, and there is none upon earth that I desire beside thee ; my flesh and my heart faileth, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion for ever. My soul thirsteth for God, my heart and my flesh cry out for tlie living God," To know thee, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom thou hast sent, this, this is life eternal. The Divine Being not only sustains towards us the character of a governor, ruling our wills by his holy law, but is also the chief object of our aflections ; and we never know him aright till we feel thus towards him, till we obey him from the heart, perceiving in him that which is suited to the nature of our immortal minds, and resting in him as our eternal and * Isaiah i. 2. t Lam. iii. 24, 25 ; PtaUn Ixxiii. 25, 20. SPIRITUALITY OF THE DIVINE NATURE. 305 unchanging portion. If you do not ascend as high as this, you will never rind any rest for your soul; you will wander through eternity restless and unsatisfied : " The height will say, It is not in me ; and the depth, It is not in me ;" and every voice will answer us with scorn unless we listen to that which now issues from the secret presence of the Almighty ; " acquaint thyself with me, and be at peace." All that we can derive from creatures is partial, scanty, limited, and pre- carious ; and even that is the effect of his power, the fruit of his munificence : but with Him is the fountain of life, " in his presence is fulness of joy, at his right hand are pleasures for evermore." He manifests himself to his people, as he does not to the world. The communion they enjoy with the Father of their spirits forms an essential part of the experience of all real Christians. How inti- mately this is connected with the spirituality of the Divine nature will appear, if you consider a few things which naturally arise from a view of the present subject. 1. That which constitutes the felicity of the mind must be some- thing out of it. Whoever retires into his own mind for happiness will soon find himself miserable ; he will feel imprisoned till he is permitted to go forth and unite himself in affection and confidence to something out of himself. Hence those who are most insulated, and cut ofl' from all contact with others, are styled, by way of distinction, misers, and are truly the most miserable of men. There cannot be a greater picture of abject wretchedness than a man, entirely confined to himself, possessing none of those sensibilities which attach mind to mind, and heart to heart, — a stranger to that reciprocation of feel- ing and affection between kindred minds which is the very balm of life. But where shall we find, out of ourselves, that which is not, like ourselves, changing, uncertain, and liable to decay, except in God, the Eternal Spirit, who, being essentially incorruptible and immortal, is qualified to be the everlasting, inexhaustible spring of satisfaction to all his intelligent creatures? In fellowship with him may be enjoyed to the uttermost all that is tender and delightful in the emotions which friendship is adapted to inspire, at the same time that in the contem- plation of all those great and excellent quaUties which elevate and dignify his character, may be awakened the awe which vastness and power are fitted to excite ; and both together may well be supposed capable of filling the mind with a calm and peaceful rapture to eternity. If the friendship of a fellow-creature be capable of afford- ing such exquisite delight, how divine a delectation must flow from union of heart with the Deity ! 2. He who can always confer happiness on another being must be superior to that being. To be the source of happiness is the highest prerogative, the greatest pre-eminence, that one being can possess over another ; it is, in fact, to be his God. It is plain that we must look higher than ourselves, and trust to the intervention of a power greatly superior to our own, for the source and perpetuity of our happiness. Hence the Psalmist prays, " "When my heart is over- whelmed within me, lead me to the Rock that is higher than I." The Vol. III.— U 306 SPIRITUALITY OF THE DIVINE NATURE. Divine Being possesses this qualification in the highest degree : he is the Infinite Spirit ; to Him alone it belongs to say to any created being, " I will be thy God." He only is capable of bestowing and assuring true, permanent, unchanging felicity, at all periods, and through all duration ; of doing, in short, " exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus." The earth, in this respect, with all its riches, is indigent; even the splendour of immortality is dark, as to any power capable of guiding man to happiness, independently of the Great Eternal. It belongs to him as the Father of spirits ; for he alone possesses that power and dominion over all beings which is necessary hi order to render him the portion and happiness of his people. 3. That in which the happiness of a rational and mental creature consists must be congenial to the nature of that creature. The body may be made happy by corporeal objects, adapted to gratify its senses ; mind can never be made happy except by mental objects. It rejects with contempt and disdain all sensible delights as its portion. The understanding must be satisfied with the light of truth, or we cannot, as rational creatures, be free from disquietude ; the aff'ections must be satisfied in the lovely qualities of character, before the heart can find rest. Where these requisites are wanting, men often languish in the midst of plenty; though surrounded by the means of enjoyment, cast a lingering, despairing view around ; and sometimes feel disposed to envy tliose inferior creatures which arc placed beneath the level of rationality. But the mental and spiritual excellences and per- fections requisite to constitute the adequate portion of mental and spiritual beings, can only be found in God, who must therefore be the proper good of a thinking creature. 4. That which forms the principle of our felicity must be some- thing that is capable of communicating itself to us. Creatures solely material are entirely incapable of doing this. Sensual pleasures can never reach our interior nature : they are not sufficiently subtile to con- stitute the source of delight to the mind ; they touch only the grosser elements of our susceptibility, and do not penetrate sufficiently deep to be the proper basis of our enjoyment. But God, as he is a Spirit, is capable of communicating himself to the spirits of his rational creatures. Spirit naturally comes into contact with spirit ; and this communication of himself is infinitely easy to the Divine Being. He can manifest himself to the hearts of his people, disclose the glory of his name to them more and more, open perpetually fresh views of his character, give them fresh sensations of ineffiible delight in the con- templation of his excellence, lead them forward from one department of his perfections to another, and make the whole creation itself speak forth his praises. Thus may he accumulate the materials of ceaseless rapture to eternity ; elevating his worshippers perpetually in adoration, at the same time that he lays them lower in prostration before him. Hence we are taught in the Scriptures to believe that these communi- cations and disclosures of himself by the Deity will constitute the felicity of heaven — this intimate union between the hearts of his SPIRITUALITY OF THE DIVL\E NATURE. 307 creatures and his own essential character, there described as the vision of God, or the intuitive knowledge of him as a Spirit, will form the principal ingredient of future happiness. Our Saviour represents him- self as the source of this happiness : " Father, I will that they also whom thou hast given me be with me where I am, that they may behold my glory."* The apostle Paul, also, speaking of the perfec- tion of the happiness of heaven, describes it as resulting from the immediate sight of the Divine glory. " Now we see through a glass darkly, but then shall we see face to face ; now I know in part, then shall I know even as also I am known." Even while they continue on earth, it is the privilege of the faithful to enjoy that union and alliance with the Father of spirits, through his Son, by virtue of which they become one spirit. They are, at some favoured seasons, so filled, even to overflowing, with a sense of his love, that the wilderness appears more beautiful than the peopled city. At such seasons, though all the evils that afflict the flesh may attempt to assail the inuuortal mind, he can be so present to the heart, and im- part to the soul such ecstasies of enjoyment, as will more than over- power the violence of pain, and even prevail over the agonies of death. We now proceed to a brief practical improvement of the subject before us : — Let us, in contemplating the Divine Being, endeavour to raise our- selves above the association of our minds widi what is sensible, visible, and corporeal, and retire within our own nature ; not for the purpose of seeking happiness there, but that we may feel our necessity of God, and perceive the demand which the highest powers of our nature make for such a being, and the impossibility of their finding rest but in his knowledge, obedience, and love. The natural effect of communion with ourselves is to convince us of our own emptiness and nothing- ness, at the same time that it indicates our native grandeur, inasmuch as there is nothing that can constitute our rational portion but God. In your calmest moments, my brethren, you will find that you possess an understanding capable of contemplating God, and that He only can be an adequate object to engage and employ that understanding, because he is the only being capable of affording to you light, happiness, and life, through a boundless eternity. You possess a conscience, which gives a moral character to all your actions, tinctures with an evil of its own peculiar kind (the evil of guilt) whatever it condemns, and invests with an attribute of moral beauty and rectitude whatever it approves : whence you will perceive that you never can be happy till conscience is on your side, till the character of your actions and thoughts is such as will bear the revie^v of that inward monitor. To produce this effect is to harmonize a man with his own conscience, — to bring him to be at peace with himself, because at peace with God — to place him on a moral centre, where he can rest self-poised amid all the fluctuations of the external world. You will find Mdthin you susceptibility which recoils from pain, and thirsts for pleasures ; not merely those that are * John xvii. 24. U2 308 SPIRITUALITY OF THE DIVINE NATURE. corporeal in their nature, but also mental and intellectual, such as those which we taste in friendship, and in the contemplation of virtue and truth. Hence you will perceive that you never can be truly and eter- nally happy till these aflections have an adequate object ; and that never will be found except in the supreme, eternal, original Spirit. He alone can so communicate himself to you, and give you such a knowledge of his character, and such a sense of his friendship, as will render you in a great measure independent of all earthly objects. You will per- ceive that he is fitted to be himself the sole and exclusive object of all these powers ; you will see the propriety and beauty of that exclama- tion— " Whom have I in heaven but thee 1 and there is none upon earth I desire in comparison of thee." Since God is a Spirit, and we are principally distinguished by pos- sessing a rational and immortal nature, there must be an everlasting connexion established between him and us, — eitlier favourable or inju- rious, of reward or punishment, of mercy or justice, — on which will depend our destiny for ever. There must be a meeting of all finite spirits in the presence of the infinite original Spirit, when an account must be given to God of " the deeds done in tlie body, whether they be good or evil." Your happiness must eternally consist in the favour of that Being to whom you are perpetually responsible for all the sen- timents of your heart, and all the actions of your life. If you die in a state of disobedience, impenitence, and alienation from God, you will incur the doom denounced against those whom our Saviour threatened, that if they believed not in him, but rejected his mission and authority, they should die in their sins. A more awful denunciation who can conceive 1 — " If ye believe not that I am he, ye shall die in your sins ; and whither I go ye cannot come." The consequence will be, that the Being whom you have neglected and forgotten will be the constant and eternal source of your misery. You will sink under his frown ; separation from him will be the great cause of your anguish ; you will be vessels of his wrath ; you will have fitted yourselves, by contempt of the supreme authority, and alienation from the supreme good, to be for ever in a state of wretched- ness, because of separation from Him who is " the fountain of living water." Since God is a Spirit, and we are unable of ourselves to rise so high as to attain the favour and friendship of such a Being, whose entirely spiritual nature is so subtile that it eludes our unassisted con- ception ; in order that the worship of the true God may be adapted to become the universal religion, Jesus Christ has come down to earth, has assumed human nature, imbodied the attributes of God in an incarnate form, and thus taught us the character of the Deity in his own actions. We know the principles of the Divine conduct in the govern- ment of the world, by the conduct and character of our blessed Saviour in his life. He is " the image of the invisible God," the only repre- sentation of Deity : " He that hatli seen me," said he, " hath seen the Father." Tiie design of his coming into this world was to bring back apostate creatures to his Father ; " to make reconciliation for iniquity" SPIRITUALITY OF THE DIVINE NATURE. 309 by the sap.rifice of himself upon the cross ; and thus to remove all those impediments which spring from the character of God to accept- ance in his sight, and to restore them to the enjoyment of his eternal favour. He gave himself a sacrifice on the altar of justice, that a free passage might be opened to the favour of his heavenly Father without any impeachment of the Divine character : " that he might be just, and yet the justitier of him that believeth in Jesus." What movements are in your minds, my brethren, with respect to this great object at this time ? Are they stationary, or are they moving in a right or a wrong direction ? Are you under the guidance of Christ, seeking increased acquaintance with him, aspiring after higher degrees of resemblance to him, fixing your hopes more firmly upon his prom- ises 1 Then all things will be favourable to you ; " the world, or life, or death, things present, or things to come, all are yours." You have obeyed from the heart the call of the gospel ; you have forsaken the world ; have become dead to it before you are called to leave it ; and have laid up treasure in heaven, having trusted your souls for safety to the Divine Redeemer ; " you know whom you have believed, and are persuaded that he is able to keep that which you have committed unto him until that day." But if your minds are engaged in a con- trary direction ; if you are seeking happiness in the things of this world, living in the neglect of God, never raising your thoughts to the contem- plation of the Supreme Good, — if, having rejected the great salvation, you are content to lie under the weight of unacknowledged, and there- fore unpardoned guilt, — yet, bear with me while I remind you that you must have a meeting with God ; you must see the face of that Divine Being whose authority you have spurned, and feel the anger of that Divine Redeemer whom you have rejected. You will, if you persist in this course, hear him pronounce the fearful sentence, " Those mine enemies that would not have me to reign over them, bring them hither and slay them before me :" " Depart from me, ye that work iniquity." Blessed be God, there are those now present who are placing their afl'ections habitually on the great Supreme, and uniting themselves, more and more closely, to him by faith in the Son of God. Let such persons rejoice in the prospects before them. The interruptions which arise from your corporeal state will speedily terminate ; the flesh shall then no longer lust against the spirit, nor the spirit against the flesh ; but you will " do the things that you would." You have preferred the interests of the mind to those of the body ; the service of Jesus Christ, and the prospects of eternity, to all sublunary good. You are approaching nearer and nearer to the Chief Good ; you are hun- gering and thirsting after righteousness ; and you shall certainly be satisfied. God approves your choice, and will assist your infirmities ; *' he will strengthen you with all might by his Sp-irit in your inner man ;" will " work in you to will and to do of his own good pleasure ;" and enable you to "work out your own salvation with fear and trembling." "They that sow to the flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption; 810 THE GLORY OF GOD IN CONCEALING. they that sow to the Spirit shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting." Let us make contimial progress in Christian virtue. Every act of sin has a tendency to misery. Every effort to subdue corruption, and to live to the will of God, is a seed which, by God's grace, will bring forth fruit to everlasting life. By patient continuance in well-doing, let us seek for glory, honour, and immortality ; for to such God will assuredly recompense eternal life : but to those that are disobedient, and do not obey the truth, "indignation and wrath, tribulation and anguish." " On the wicked he will rain fire and brimstone, and an horrible tempest ; this shall be the portion of their cup."* II. THE GLORY OF GOD IN CONCEALING. Proverbs xxv. 2. — It is the glory of God to conceal a thing.\ [preached at CAMBRIDGE, SEPTEMBER, 1826.] It is difficult to say whether the glory of God appears more in what he displays, or in what he conceals, of his operations and designs. Were he to conceal every thing from our view, it would be impossible that any glory could result to him from the sentiments and actions of his creatures. From entire ignorance nothing could arise, no medium of intercourse could be established between the creature and the Creator. In the total absence of the knowledge of God, religion must be totally excluded and unknown. But it is by a partial communication of himself, which the Divine Being might, if he pleased, in various degrees extend and increase beyond the present measure, that he has in the highest degree consulted his honour and manifested his wisdom. If there were no light, we should sink into a state of irreligious doubt and despair ; if there were no darkness, we should be in danger of losing that reverential sense of his infinite majesty so essential to religion, and of impiously supposing that the Almighty is such a one as ourselves. But a temperature of mingled light and obscurity, a combination of discovery and concealment, is calculated to produce the most suitable impressions of the Divine excellence on the minds of fallen creatures. When God was pleased to favour his ancient people with a supernatural display of his presence, by a visible symbol, during their journey through the wilderness, it wore this two- fold aspect : it was a pillar of cloud and of fire, dark in the daytime and luminous in the night; and when he conducted them through the Red Sea, he turned the bright side of the cloud towards the camp of * Rom. ii. 7-9 ; Ps. xi. 6. f From the notes of Joshua Wilson, Esq. THE GLORY OF GOD IN CONCEALING. 311 Israel, and the gloomy side towards the Egyptians, by whom they were pursued.* When he descended on Mount Sinai, the token of his presence was a mass of tliick and dark clouds, penetrated at intervals by flashes of lightning. On the third day, in the morning, we are informed, there M^ere thunders and lightnings, and a thick cloud upon the mount : and, it is added, " the mount was altogether in a smoke, because the Lord descended upon it in fire, and the smoke thereof ascended as the smoke of a furnace." When Solomon had finished his temple, the manifesta- tion which the Deity made of himself, in taking possession of it and consecrating it to his service, was of the same character. No sooner had the priest gone out of the holy place, than the cloud filled the house of the Lord ; and " the priests could not stand to minister be- cause of the cloud, for the glory of the Lord had filled the house of the Lord." The first indication of the Divine presence was the over- spreading of thick darkness, which afterward subsided, and unfolded itself gradually, till it terminated in an insufterable splendour. Upon observing this, Solomon, at the commencement of his celebrated prayer, used these words : " The Lord said that he would dwell in the thick darkness."! If God dwells in light inaccessible, he equally makes darkness his dwelling-place, — " his pavilion dark waters and thick clouds of the sky." " Clouds and darkness," says David, " are round about him ; righteousness and judgment are the habitation of his throne." In this view of the character and dispensations of the Almighty, the Psalmist probably alludes to those sensible appearances of his presence which are recorded in his ancient oracles. At our Saviour's transfiguration, the three disciples retained their composure until the cloud appeared ; for they knew that to be the symbol of the immediate presence of the Deity. " They feared" we are told, " when they entered into the cloud ;" and it was thence the voice proceeded, saying, " This is my beloved Son, hear ye him." These representations are in perfect harmony with the doctrine of the passage under our present consideration, in which the wisest of men, speaking by inspiration, informs us that "it is the glory of God to conceal a thing." He does it with a design to promote his glory, being by necessity his own ultimate and final end. There are two observations naturally suggested by these words : — I. The Divine Being is accustomed to conceal much. II. In this he acts in a manner worthy of himself, and suited to display his glory. I. We shall specify some of the instances in which God conceals things. 1. In relation to his own nature and manner of existence. His essence is altogether hidden from the most profound investiga- tion, the most laborious research, the most subtile penetration of his creatures. With respect to this, it may be said, " Who by searching can find out God ; who can find out the Almighty to perfection ?" We know that he possesses certain attributes, (which we distinguish by * Exod. xiv. 19, 20. f 1 Kings viii. 12. 312 THE GLORY OF GOD IN CONCEALING. different names drawn from analogous excellences among men), exclusive of all limit or imperfection found in human nature. We ascribe to him every idea of virtue and spiritual beauty, exalted to infinite perfection. But how the Divine Being himself exists in an essential and eternal nature of his own, without beginning as well as without end, — how he can be present at the same moment in every point of illimitable space, without excluding any one of his creatures from the room it occupies, — how, unseen, unfelt by all, he can maintain a pervading and intimate acquaintance and contact with all parts and portions of the universe, — how he can be at once all eye, all ear, all presence, all energy, yet interfere with none of the perceptions and actions of his creatures, — this is what equally baffles the mightiest and the meanest intellect ; this is the great mystery of tlie universe, which is at once the most certain and the most incomprehensible of all things ; — a truth at once enveloped in a flood of light and an abyss of dark- ness ! Liexplicable itself, it explains all besides : it casts a clearness on every question, accounts for every phenomenon, solves every prob- lem, illuminates every depth, and renders the whole mystery of exist- ence as perfectly simple as it is otherwise perfectly unintelligible, ■while itself alone remains in impenetrable obscurity ! After displacing every other difficulty, it remains the greatest of all, in solitary, unsur- mountable, unapproachable gi-andeur ! So truly " clouds and darkness are round about him." " He maketh darkness his secret habitation ; his pavilion to cover him, thick clouds." His perfections are impressed on the works of nature, but in such a manner that we learn them only by inference. We ascend from effects to causes ; from the marks of contrivance and design, to the necessary existence of an Almighty Contriver. But what sort of being lie is, and what is the nature of his contact with his creatures, must, in the present state at least, remain an unfathomable mystery. We are utterly at a loss in all such speculations ; yet this affords no diminution of the motives of piety. Our belief in the being of a God is the belief of a profound mystery. The very idea of such a Being would appear incredible were it not that it is necessary, be- cause the greatest absurdities would flow from supposing the contrarj'. Nothing can be accounted for unless we admit the existence of a causeless Cause — a presiding Governor of the universe. We are compelled therefore to choose the less difliculty of the two; or rather to choose difliculty instead of impossibility, mystery instead of ab- surdity : and hence we repose on this grand truth. 2. The Divine Being observes the same method of concealment in a great variety of respects, with regard to the structure and constitu- tion of his works. The scenes of nature lie open to our view ; they solicit our senses, and are adapted to impress themselves in a most lively manner upon our minds. " The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament showeth his handiwork." We cannot look around us without beholding, not only the works themselves, but evident traces of that matchless wisdom, power, and goodness whence they sprang. Still, the mysteries of nature, with regard to the THE GLORY OF GOD IN CONCEALING. 313 essences of things, and indeed to a multitude of subtile operations, are kept in a kind of sacred reserve, and elude the utmost efforts of phi- losophy to surprise them in their concealments and bring them to light. While Philosophy goes on from step to step in the march of her discoveries, it seems as if her grandest result was the conviction how much remains undiscovered ; and while nations in a ruder state of science have been ready to repose on their ignorance and error, or to confound familiarity with knowledge, the most enlightened of men have always been the first to perceive and acknowledge the remaining obscurity which hung around them ; just as, in the night, the farther a light extends, the wider the surrounding sphere of dark- ness appears. Hence it has always been observed, that the most profound inquirers into nature have been the most modest and humble. So convinced was Socrates, the chief luminary of the ancient world, of the great obscurity attending all such inquiries, that he abandoned the search of nature, and confined his disquisitions to moral questions, and rules for the conduct of life. The same illustrious man declared, that he knew no reason why the oracle of Delphos pronounced him to be the wisest of men, except it was that, being conscious of his ignorance, he was willing to confess that he knew nothing. Newton, the greatest philosopher whom the modern world has known, declared, speaking of a distinguished contemporary from whose genius he augured vast discoveries, but who died in early life, (the celebrated Cotes), " If that young man had lived, we should have known something." In so modest a manner did he advert to his own imperfect knowledge of that science with whicli he had attained such prodigious acquaint- ance as to have become the pride and wonder of the world ! Those that have devoted themselves to an investigation of the laws of nature find, in a great variety of the most common productions, sufficient to engage their inquiries and employ their faculties : they perceive that the meanest work of God is inexhaustible, — contains secrets which the wisdom of man will never be able to penetrate. They are only some of the superficial appearances and sensible properties with which we are familiar. Substances and essences we cannot reach. The secret laws which regulate the operations of nature we cannot unveil. Indeed, we have i-eason to believe that the most enlarged understanding must, in a very short time, resolve its inquiries into the will of God as the ultimate reason. Thus, one of the best effects of intellectual cultivation and the acquisition of knowledge, is to restore the mind to that state of natural simplicity and surprise in which every thing- above, beneath, and around us appears replete with mystery, and excites those emotions of freshness and astonishment with which the scenes of nature are contemplated during the season of child- hood. 3. God is accustomed to conceal much in the dispensations of his providence. The dispensations of the Divine providence are that series of actions which the Divine Being is continually carrying on in the government of the world which he has made. This, though it pre- sents many evident marks of wisdom and design, is also eminently 314 THE GLORY OF GOD IN CONCEALING. endowed with the property of obscurity. " God is known hy the judgments which he executeth.''^ The established order of providence in this world makes manifest to every serious and reflecting mind, that " there is verily a God that judgcth in the earth.'''' There exists such a decided connexion between well-doing and happiness on the one hand, and between wickedness and misery on the other, as suf- ficiently to show, even independently of revelation, that the Divine Being is the patron of rectitude and the enemy of vice. Yet, while there is a prevailing tendency in virtue to promote happiness, this tendency is not always carried into actual eflect. The natural course of things is frequently interrupted and suspended by inci- dental causes : particular exceptions are continually occurring to the ordinary rule. There are two respects in which the Divine Being perpetually con- ceals the ways of his providence. (1.) The design for which many events are pennitted to take place. There are many important circumstances and events, the reason of which will probably remain to the end of time altogether inscrutable : such, for instance, as the depression of the righteous ; the success of fraud and violence ; the frustration of the purposes of benevolence and virtue ; the prevalence of persecution ; the sufterings of martyrs ; the limited diffusion of Christianity ; the extent to which idolatry has been suffered to desolate the moral world ; and the mystery of in- iquity to overspread a large portion of Christendom. The best and wisest of men have confessed themselves at a loss to interpret the design of the Divine dispensations with respect to themselves and their contemporaries. Even prophets have acknowledged that their minds were for a time perplexed by the anomalies of providence : " Righteous art thou, O Lord," says Jeremiah, " yet let me talk with thee of thy judgments : Wherefore do the wicked prosper ?" And David, when he reflected on the prosperity of the wicked, the unequal distribution of good and evil, and the afflictions to which the righteous were exposed, was tempted to exclaim, " Verily I have cleansed my heart in vain ;" nor did he find any satisfaction until he went into the sanctuary of God, and there understood their latter end. (2.) The Divine Being is accustomed to throw much obscurity over the future. He makes the present the scene of our duty, while he Ka's', in a great degree, hidden futurity from our view. "We know not what shall be on the morrow ;" we are ignorant of the next event that -shall arise, and cannot, with all the light we can gather round us, determine what shall befall us on the next moment : we are impelled forward on the stream of time, but know not what is immediately before us. This ignorance of the future is complete with respect to the period of our own lives. Our existence this moment is no se- curity for its continuance the next : " Boast not thyself of to-morrow, for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth." It is always a matter of awful uncertainty when we enter on the business of the day, whether we shall close it in time or eternity ; when we compose THE GLORY OF GOD IN CONCEALING. 315 our eyes to slumber, in which world we shall open them. The future is ever in the hand of God. No man can say with confidence that any one scheme he is pursuing shall be attended with success, — any one hope or fear which he entertains be realized. Every period of our life is opening some fresh page, the contents of which no human sagacity can determine ; nor is there a single event that may take place under the sun which can be known with certainty until it is actually accomplished. God reserves the causes of events in his own hand ; and all that the highest wisdom can attain is such a degree of probability as may lay a foundation for distant and uncertain con- jecture. He leads nations, as well as individuals, " by a way that they know not." The scenes are shifted and changed by an invisible hand, in such a manner as clearly to prove that the collective wisdom of mankind is no more competent to direct their way than the solitary wisdom of particular persons. I We have had a very striking instance of this, in the change that has recently taken place in the state of this nation ;* which has, not by a slow gradation, but in the course of a very few weeks, and almost, as it were, instantaneously, fallen from the highest elevation to the lowest depression. From a state of unexampled prosperity, when we were exulting in the expectation of still brighter scenes, our prospect has become suddenly clouded with embarrassment, distress, and dismay. Who could anticipate that famine would thus rise out of the midst of plenty; want of subsistence, in the midst of the greatest abundance both of the natural productions of the earth and the artificial produc- tions of human industry? Was there any one of the wise men of the world, — any one of those whose office it is to superintend the affairs of nations, and conduct them as far as finite minds can conduct them, — who formed the slightest conjecture of such a state of things ? Did any of them foretel it? Had any one presented to his mind the faintest glimpse of the event which God in his providence has brought upon us ? No : the destinies of nations are entirely in his hand, and " he doeth according to his will among the inhabitants of the earth, as well as in the army of heaven." He is pleased, indeed, to give us some glimpse into futurity by establishing a certain order in the deal- ings of his providence with rational creatures. While this enables us to use means which are adapted to produce certain efiects, yet he so frequently frustrates the natural tendency of actions as to convince us that the course of events is under the control of a superior power. " The race is not always to the swift, nor the battle to tlie strong, nor riches to men of understanding." Hence, while encouragement is given to the practice of virtue, by its general tendency to promote our tem- 'poral interest and advantage, confidence in our own wisdom and prii- * This sermon was delivered in a season of great public calamity. A supposed failure in the crops produced the alarm of famine. The year 1826 was, throughout, extremely unfavourable to trade and manufactures. The number of bankrupts in the Jirst six months had been nearly quad- ruple the number of the first six months of 1825. Labourers were so inadequately employed as to render them in great measure dependent on the contributions of the more atfluent for the immediate necessaries of life. An unusual "panic" prevailed among commercial men ; the average depre- ciation in the value of marketable commodities exceeded 18 per cent. : and all classes were strug- ' gling with extraordinary difficulties.— Ed. 316 THE GLORY OF GOD IN CONCEALING. dence, in neglect of a devout acknowledgment of the hand of God, appears to be the highest presumption. " The foohshness of God" appears, on many occasions, " wiser than men, and the weakness of ' God stronger than men." Individuals are sometimes defeated and ruined, even by the success of their own precautions ; while, on the other hand, temerity and folly are sometimes permuted to accomplish what wisdom could not effect. Exceptions to the success of human effort are so numerous, and the variety of events on which that success depends so complicated, as continually to remind us of our absolute dependence on that unseen Hand which conducts us whithersoever he will, and accomplishes the whole purpose of his mind, without giving an account of any of his matters. The most important events of human life, on which our happiness greatly depends, are, for the most part, concealed from our view. \ery few persons have ascertained, with any degree of accuracy, either the degree or the kind of prosperity and success with which their efforts in pursuit of human felicity have been crowned. The greatest evils which we are called to endure generally take us by surprise, and the most favourable results have been so produced as to render it apparent that they were not entirely the fruit of our own sagacity, providence, or enterprise. There is no event so interesting to us as our departure from this world, — tliat great change, so com- prehensive that it includes every other ; yet this the Divine Being usually conceals. Man also, says the author of this book, knoiveth not his time : as the Jishes that are taken in an evil net, and as the birds that are caught in the snare; so are the sons of men snared in an evil time, when it falleth suddeiily upon them* Very few persons die at the precise period which their own imaginations have allotted to that event. Death overtakes most " as a thief in the night." No man is enabled to ascertain at " what hour the Son of man cometh ;" and while we are kept in perpetual uncertainty respecting this event, it is the greatest vanity to boast of our foreknowledge of any other, because, when this arrives, our interest in the present world ceases. All that is done under the sun, all the joys and sorrows, successes and disappointments, which take place among men, are then, in regard to us, events that occur in another world. It is true, indeed, that where the bulk of mankind, or great multitudes, are concerned, the calculation of chances respecting their average continuance on earth may be easy and exact : errors on one side are corrected and balanced by those on the opposite ; the vibrations of the pendulum being equivalent to hs remaining stationary. But to the individual the case is altogether dif- ferent ; all inferences in reference to the termination of individual life are vain. No person, therefore, can justify himself in deferring till to-morrow his preparation for that eternal world which may be the first thing that presents itself to his awaking faculties. 4. The Divine Being is pleased to conceal much in the economy of grace and redemption. In the manifestations of his will, even in * Eecles. ix. 12. THE GLORY OF GOD IN CONCEALING. 317 that dispensation which is intended to afford some knowledge of him- self, and of his gracious purposes and designs to the children of men, he maintains the same character, and mingles, in almost equal pro- portions, obscurity and brightness. Revelation, indeed, by its very nature, is intended to impart information. God has taught us in his Word, in the New Testament especially, many of the " deep things of God ;" and we are under unspeakable obligations for that " dayspring from on high which has visited us, to guide our feet into the way of peace and give knowledge of salvation by the remission of sins." Yet ,he revelation contained in the Scriptures extends only to facts, not to the theory of those facts, or their original causes. The most important truths are communicated in a dogmatic, not a theoretic manner. We are taught, on the testimony of Him that cannot lie, insulated facts which we cannot connect with those reasons with which they are un- doubtedly connected in the Divine mind. They rest solely on the basis of Divine authority ; and we are left as much in the dark with respect to the mode of their existence as if they were not revealed. He has given us reason to expect that the Godhead subsists in three persons ; distinct acts of personal agency being ascribed to the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, while worship and adoration are claimed for all of them : but the theory of this fact is utterly beyond our comprehen- sion ; nor does it appear to be any part of the intention of Scripture to put us in possession of that theory. Those who have ventured to approach too near this inaccessible light, though with honest and sin- cere intentions, have for the most part, by attempting to explain it, involved the subject in deeper obscurity, and " darkened counsel by words without knowledge." We are expressly informed that " the Word, who was in the begin- ning with God, and was God, was made flesh, and dwelt among men." There was a mysterious and inconceivable union between the divine nature of the Son of God, who was " the brightness of his Father's glory and the express image of his person" before the world began, and the man Christ Jesus. But when we attempt to develop this mystery, and inquire how this union was effected and maintained without the two natures being identified, or their respective properties being confounded, we are utterly at a loss. We affirm nothing more than the matter of fact, we only put into other words the express testi- mony of the inspired writers, without pretending to unfold the mystery of his person, who was Immanuel, God with us. Surely, if we cannot discover how the Divine Being made man, it must be far beyond our faculties to comprehend how the Creator of the world became a par- taker of the nature he had made. This, which has been styled the hypostatical union, — in consequence of which, the blood shed upon the cross, being the blood of God's own Son, possesses that marvellous efficacy by virtue of which it cleanses from all sin, — will probably for ever remain an impenetrable secret. Great is the mystery of god- liness : God was manifest in the flesh. We are far from suppressing our conviction that this is a great mystery ; we rejoice, on the contrary, in its incomprehensibility ; we delight to lose ourselves in the impene- 318 THE GLORY OF GOD IN CONCEALING. trable shades which invest the subject, because in the darkness and cloud which envelop it God dwells. It is the greatness which forms the mystery of the fact, — the matchless love and condescension con- stitute the very nucleus of the difficulty. It could only be brought within the sphere of our comprehension by a contraction of its vast dimensions, by a depression of its native grandeur. A prostration of it to the level of our feeble capacities would only render it incapable of being the magnet of souls, the attraction of hearts, the wonder of the universe. The eifect of this great fact on every one who has sufficient hurailhy to believe the word of God is not at all diminished by its mysterious grandeur. On the contrary, the fact itself is replete with moral intluence and practical efiect. Could the whole theory of the incarnation be laid open to our view, no additional force would be given to those motives to fervent gratitude and devotedness to the ser- vice of our Redeemer which the mere fact is adapted to inspire. The practical influence is not at all impaired, but rather heightened, by the speculative difficulties which attend it, because they result merely frorn its ineffable grandeur. The same may be said with respect to the doc- trine of the Trinity. The distinct parts assigned to the three divine persons exhibit the beautiful harmony of the plan of redemption : the Father sending his Son, the Son executing his Father's will, the Holy Spirit sanctifying the people of God by dwelling in their hearts. These truths are not less practical because of the mystery which attends the doctrine. We are as able to adore the grace of the Father, the love of the Son, the communion of the Holy Spirit, — to value the distinct agency of the several persons in the work of our salvation, as if we could perceive the theory of this unspeakable mystery. With regard to the doctrine of the atonement, we are taught all that it is necessary for us to. know ; that the blood of Jesus Christ is the price of our redemption, and that it was uifinitely worthy of God, " in bringing many sons unto glory, to make the Captain of their salvation perfect through sufferings. " We can perceive, in some degree, its tendency to advance and maintain the honour of God, as Moral Gov- ernor of the world. But many questions may be proposed, with respect to the extent of its efficacy, which our reason cannot penetrate. What connexion this great sacrifice may have with the happiness, what influ- ence on the destiny, of beings of a higher order, of which the Scriptures give some faint intimatiota, we have no distinct and satisfactory know- ledge ; but this affords no:pl;)jection to the testimony they contain, that "for us me/?, and for our solvation," the Son of God became incarnate, suffered, and died. It is worthy' of the reserve of Infinite Majesty, to give us very brief hints with respect to the influence of these great facts on the innocent and holy part of the creation, to the utmost extent of his dominions. Again : The operation of the Spirit of God in regeneration and sanc- tification we acknowledge to be highly mysterious : " The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hrarest the sound thereof; but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth : so is every one that is born THE GLORY OF GOD IN CONCEALING. 319 of the Spirit." All Christians indeed know by experience the influence of the Spirit ; but what is that mysterious principle styled grace — how it connects itself with the human mind — where its operations cease, and the operations of the human faculties begin — are questions which probably the wisest of men can no more unfold than the weakest and most ignorant: they are very far beyond the comprehension of the human understanding. But is it, on this account, less our duty to implore that sacred influence T If it be necessary, as the antidote of our depravity, " if that which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit only is Spirit," and, consequently, " except a man be born again of water and of the Spirit" — of the Spirit operating as water, by cleansing and sanctifying the soul — " he cannot see the kingdom of God ;" is his obligation to seek it less because he cannot explore this mystery ? Is the folly of neglecting it more venial because he cannot penetrate the speculative depths of this doctrine ? If any one feels by happy experience that power by which those who were " dead in trespasses and sins are quickened, raised up, and made to sit in heavenly places with Christ Jesus ;" if he feels that " all old things are passed away, and all things become new" within him ; that he is braced by a new energy, animated by a new life, expatiates in the world to come as if it were his own ; does he feel less gratitude for these mighty operations because he cannot detect and analyze the power by which they have been wrought, or explain the philosophy of divine influence 1 These observations may be applied to all the other mysterious facts in Christianity, either past or futiire. The resurrRption of the dead must be admitted to be a great mystery, which nothing but the occur- rence of the fact can unfold. The apostle puts this question into the mouth of an infidel : " How are the dead raised up, and with what body do they come V which he answers in a very unceremonious manner : " Thou fool ! that which thou sowest is not quickened, except it die : and that which thou sowest, thou sowest not that body that shall be, but bare grain, it may chance of wheat, or of some other grain : but God giveth it a body as it hath pleased him, and to every seed his own body." The glorious prospect opened by this doctrine is not less animating because it surpasses our comprehen- sion : on the contrary, its profundity only serves to increase our aston- ishment, and enhance our gratitude. The apostle, in his apology before Felix, resolves the whole into an immediate exertion of Divine power. " Why should it be thought a thing incredible that God should raise the dead .<*" If, indeed, the gospel professed to teach the theory of the fact, it would be a just objection that this was beyond the grasp of our faculties. If, on the contrary, it merely reveal facts, and those facts have immediate practical bearings on the hearts and lives of those who receive them, all objections on account of their mysterious- ness are futile, because they proceed on the supposition that God intended to develop the whole mystery, whereas he discovers only so much as may be adapted to rectify the conscience and purify the heart. 320 THE GLORY OF GOD IN CONCEALING. II. I shall now attempt to show how the Divine Being promotes his glory, by such a temperature of light and shade as that which distinguishes all his discoveries of himself, and his dispensations towards his creatures. 1. The concealment which he has thrown in these various respects over his ways, works, and word tends to glorify him, as it is, in part, the necessary consequence of his infinite superiority to all finite beings in wisdom and understanding, — the inevitable result of his being God. His wisdom is that which belongs to him as the Fountain of wisdom, the Father of lights, the Source of all knowledge. His purposes and designs cannot, therefore, be adequately scanned by tiie wisdom of men, from whom he must necessarily conceal more than he reveals. A child cannot at once be made to comprehend the reasons of his father in imposing those restraints and privations which are a neces- sary part of parental discipline. It is only by degrees that his feeble capacity can be made to penetrate the secret of his education. If this be the case with respect to two finite minds, one of which has only arrived at greater maturity than the other, how much more dispropor- tionate must be the plans of Infinite Wisdom to our narrow faculties ! and what force does such a consideration give to that appeal of the apostle, " We have had fathers of our flesh that corrected us, and we gave them reverence ; shall we not much rather be in subjection to the Father of spirits, and live !" Surely we owe as much deference to the wisdom, as much reliance on the kindness of the Eternal Parent, as we give to our earthly father ! The infinite superiority of the Divine perfections renders this concealment necessary. He cannot, on account of his incomparable greatness and excellence, bring his plans and operations within the comprehension of his creatures. Viewing eternity in all its extent, having present to his mind all that is past and all that is future, seeing the end from the beginning, looking forward to the remotest period, and embracing in his prospect all pos- sible future events, he regulates his conduct upon a scale Avhich belongs only to him that inhabits eternity. Concealment is the necessary indica- tion and proof, as well as the ellect, of his being " infinite in council." The judgments of such a Being must, by the necessity of his nature, be, to our limited apprehensions, " a great deep." " O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God ! how unsearch- able are his judgments, and his ways past finding out !" 2. The glory of God appears in concealing, because it evinces his entire independence on the wisdom, counsel, or co-operation of any or all of his creatures. It is his prerogative to be the only Being to whom it is always safe to conceal his designs and purposes. It is seldom safe for persons, in the highest stations, to conduct a complicated scheme of operations without taking advantage of counsel : " In the multitude of counsellors," says the wise man, " there is safety." No greater folly can be practised by so weak and frail a being as man, than, in matters of great moment, to decline taking the assistance of other minds. It is the privilege of very few, if any, mortals to possess at once that penetration and that comprehension of view which would THE GLORY OF GOD IN CONCEALING. 321 rendei' it expedient for them to tread the most perilous paths alone. He that despises the counsel of others is, for the most part, sure to rue the effects of his folly. Nor is it necessary that the party con- sulted should possess superior capacity, or even knowledge of the subject in question. Different individuals see the same object in a different light, and a person of weaker intellect, not being immediately concerned, may be much more cool and impartial ; some circumstance, therefore, which escaped the attention or the recollection of the most sagacious individual whose passions were excited, may occur to another person possessed of a very inferior degree of intellectual power. Those who are the immediate agents in any plan of operation have their feelings generally too much excited, are too eagerly engaged in the chase, to be capable of discerning all those possibilities of disap- pointment and frustration which may present themselves to the calm survey of indifferent spectators. But it is infinitely worthy of the Divine Being to give no account of any of his matters, with a view to obtain information from his creatures. " AVho hath directed the Spirit of the Lord, or being his counsellor hath taught him ? With whom took he counsel, and who instructed him, and taught him in the path of judgment, and taught him knowledge, and showed to him the way of understanding 1 Behold, the nations are as a drop of a bucket, and are counted as the small dust of the balance: behold he taketh up the isles as a very little thing. All nations before him are as nothing ; and they are counted to him less than nothing, and vanity."* " Who hath known the mind of the Lord, or who hath been his coun- sellor "? Or who hath first given to him, and it shall be recompensed unto him again ? For of him, and through him, and to him are all things : to whom be glory for ever. Amen."t The Divine Being may, with infinite safety and propriety, retire within himself, into the secret recesses of his own essence, the depths of his own immensity, form his purposes apart, consult with none but himself. " He holdeth back the face of his throne, and spreadeth his cloud upon it." The resources of his own nature are intinitely sufii- cient. Of whom should he ask light, who is himself the Father of lights ? Why should he take advice of creatures, of whose wisdom all human knowledge is but a spark ? There is not a portion of intelligence in the universe which is not already his own : to consult with his creatures would therefore be but to consult with himself. " There is, indeed, a spirit in man ; but it is the inspiration of the Almighty which giveth him understanding." The counsels of God are his own counsels, unmixed with any communication of human wisdom. He cannot mingle his designs with any others, or take associate minds into his cabinet. He needs not to receive back, nor can he receive back, from his creatures any portion of the light which has been diffused from that ocean of wisdom and inteUigence which eternally resides in himself. 3. The Divine glory is promoted by concealing, inasmuch as such * Isaiah id. 13-15, 17. t Rom- xi. 34-36. Vol. III.— X 322 THE GLORY OF GOD IN CONCEALING. a degree of obscurity as attends the partial manifestation of the Divine will, and the progressive development of the Divine purposes, is eminently adapted to the state, exigency, and condition of man. Many important purposes are accomplished by this temperature be- tween concealment and manifestation, as we have already in part shown, and proceed more clearly to exhibit in a few particulars. (1.) The prophetic part of the Word of God, while it contains some general intimation of future events, is expressed in language, or denoted by imagery, proverbially obscure. This is intended to alibrd some general knowledge of the future, or it would not be prophecy ; but, at the same time, obscurity forms a necessary ingredient. Were it free from that, were it like the language of narrative, it would give such a distinct knowledge of the future event as would lead some persons to use means for the purpose of accomplishing it by their own power, and tempt others presumptuously to endeavour to frustrate it. The design of prophecy is, not to enable persons to anticipate the minute circumstances of events, but partly to excite in their minds a general expectation, by presenting a vague and shadowy outline ; partly to afibrd a striking illustration of the power and providence of God, in bringing to pass those events on tiie arrival of a distant age. The infinite wisdom of God appears in his foretelling future events, in such a manner that when they arrive they tally and corres- pond to the prophecy in a great variety of particulars ; while in the mean time the events are so darkly shadowed, that the human aoents by whom they are accomplished are ignorant that in so doing they are, in fact, fulfilling the counsels of Heaven. They merely follow the dictates of their own minds, act agreeably to their own inclinations, and have no intention of bringing to pass those events to which the prophecy has reference. Nebuchadnezzar little supposed that he was a mere rod in the hand of Deity, to chastise his own people. Cyrus, when he set out for Babylon to deliver them, little supposed that the hand of God had girded him, and prepared his wav before him. Both were unconscious agents in accomplishing the purposes of that Divine Providence whose wisdom enlightened their path, and whose energy sustained them. God had foretold by his prophets the rejection of Jesus Christ by the Jewish nation, and his crucifixion ; get the Jews, in delivering him up, as well as Pilate and Herod in condemning and executing him, acted as freely, were therefore as much accountable, as if he had not been " by the determinate counsel and foreknowledge of God delivered up."* The treason that was practised by Judas on his Lord and Master had been announced by the Psalmist David ; yet how much is the wisdom of God magnified in permitting this to remain so secret, that the very perpetrator was probably ignorant of it, acting with the same freedom and spontaneity, with as close an adherence to tlie dictates of his own heart, the pecidiarities of his own character, as if no such prophecy had been recorded. Thus God secures the glory of his own foreknowledge, at the same time that he * Acts ii. 23. THE GLORY OF GOD IN CONCEALING. 323 leaves undisturbed the sphere of human agency. Were future events so distmclly predicted as to be clearly foreseen, this would either destroy the proof of Divine superintendence and agency, or would require such a perpetual miraculous control over the exercise of human faculties as would be inconsistent with the state and condition of accountable creatures in a world of probation. It is also neces- sary that propliecy should not operate as precept ; for, with some, the will of God clearly foreseen would have the force of a command, and would be fulfilled as such ; which would confound human agency with Divine. On the other hand, in consequence of this arrangement, none have it in their power to frustrate his designs : " He frustrateth the tokens of the liars, and maketh diviners mad ; turneth wise men backward, and maketh their knowledge foolish."* In order, there- fore, that the free agency of creatures may be preserved, the time and other circumstances of an event predicted are permitted to remain so uncertain that the persons who are to accomplish it continue ignorant of them till the event itself takes place. Those great events which have materially affected the condition of the world were foretold by the ancient prophets. But did the human agents know they were fulfilling these predictions ? Nothing was farther from their view : " they meant not so, neither did their heart think so ;"t they were merely gratifying their own little passions, pursuing no other end than their own sinister and selfish policy. They were instruments in the hands of the Divine Being, as passive in accomplishing his purposes as the axe or hammer in the hands of a man. The predictions were mingled with much obscurity, as I have before remarked, to leave the free-agency of creatures undisturbed, and their accountability consequently unimpaired. Prophecy is not intended to give men such a knowledge of futurity as to enable even the most sagacious to predict events. Those who have attempted with certainty to assign, beforehand, particular prophe- cies to particular events, have uniformly failed in their presumptuous endeavours. The design of prophecy is only to afford some general intimation, which may operate either as warning or encouragement. Its chief use is, after the event has taken place, to assure men of the universal providence of God, and convince them of that wisdom which foresees all future events, and that power which accomplishes them when the appointed period arrives. When, therefore, the Divine Being has been disposed to lift, in some degree, the ved which conceals futurity, he has only done it so far as to excite a general and indefinite expectation of the event, by exhibiting its general char- acter and features, but by no means to disclose such circumstances of time, place, and instrumentality as might interfere in the least degree with the morality of human actions. (2.) The Divine Being, by giving no account of the design of many dispensations of his providence, trains us to submission. He is the fit and proper object of trust to mankind. Trust in God is the grand * Isaiah xliT. 25 t Isaiah x. 7 . X2 324 THE GLORY OF GOD IN CONGEALING. principle of religion ; it is another word, indeed, for faith, as that term is applied in the New Testament, — the grand principle which distinguishes good men from men of the world. The former trust in God ; and, trusting in him, their souls are kept in peace. They com- mit their way to him, and resign their wills into his hands, God demands from his creatures universal confidence, not only explicit, but also implicit. The former is that which arises from a clear per- ception of his intentions and designs. When we are able to trace his counsels, our trust in him is regulated by our knowledge of his ways and purposes, and this must precede any exercise of the latter kind of trust. But when the Divine Being has, by such a manifestation of himself, by such a degree of illumination, established a conviction of his paternal character, and sufficiently revealed the principles of his government, it is worthy of his majesty to put his rational crea- tures to the test. Having had innumerable experimental proofs of his loving-kindness, and of those tender mercies which are over all his works, should we not be ready to follow him in a path that we cannot discern, even when his footsteps are in the great deep 1 May not the Father of the universe call on all Ins rational oflspring to place un- limited confidence in himself, to be willing to fall into his hands, to commit all their concerns to his disposal, to abandon themselves to his pleasure ? When we consider also the provision he has made for our eternal happiness in the economy of redemption, in those exceed- ing great and precious promises he has there revealed, and especially in the gift of his own Son, the sum and substance of all possible communications of good, how infinitely fit is it for such a creature, having to deal with such a God, to say, with the most entire self- oblivion, "Do with me as seemeth good in thy sight;" joy or sor- row, prosperity or adversity, are indifierent to me, since tliou canst bring light out of darkness, order out of confusion, and cause these light afflictions, which are but for a moment, to work for me a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. (3.) Another advantage derived from this proceeding is, that it tends to promote humility and vigilance, at the same time that it excites to diligence and exertion. As we are to give account of our conduct, it is necessary that the Divine Being should aflx)rd us a rule of action, and this must be clear and determinate. But it is not necessary that we should be informed of the issue of actions ; these, therefore, he is pleased to keep in his own hand. Yet, as without the hope of attain- inor some advantage, to stinmlate us to activity, the mind would become lethargic, because we should feel ourselves chained down by a fatal destiny, in helpless despondency ; such a constitution is wisely estab- lished, that success may be the general rule, failure the exception. But occasional instances of the latter are useful, by teaching us not to lean to our own understanding. Men are now too much disposed to " sacrifice to their own net, and burn incense to their own drag ;" but if they were capable of certainly foreseeing the issue of their schemes, — if the battle were always to the strong, and riches to men of understanding, — how would the strong man glory in his strength, THE GLORY OF GOD IN CONCEALING. 325 the rich man in his riches ! These objects of pursuit would be tlie source of most intemperate idolatry, and would utterly corrupt the mind of their possessor, by leading him to glory in himself, and not in God. On the other hand, were there no connexion between the culti- vation of certain qualities and success, did^ no advantage result from the possession of them, there would be no motive to action, no in- ducement to make those exertions which promote the improvement of mankind, and of the institutions of society. Still, the knowledge that a successful result cannot be calculated upon with certainty greatly tends to stamp vanity on all that relates to the present world, and thus leads men to trust in the living God, whose promises, resting on a certain basis, are secure of their final accomplishment. With respect to the events that may befall us, especially in reference to that great and final event, death, — were the period perfectly certain, we should be tempted, during the interval, to sit down in the indul- gence of security. Such knowledge would induce, in most men, the greatest rashness and presumption. While the event was at a dis- tance they would gratify their appetites without restraint ; they would, upon system, procrastinate attention to their eternal interests. Whereas, now, the uncertainty of its arrival furnishes the highest reason for being always ready, and renders the neglect of preparation the greatest folly and infatuation. It should operate as a solemn admonition from God to perpetual watchfulness and care, not to leave that undone which, if undone at a dying hour, renders the doing of all other things merely vanity and vexation of spirit, while we are left in a state of inconsolable wretchedness. All pretence for delay being hereby cut off", the inattention of the majority of mankind to these divine warnings becomes utterly inexcusable ; especially if we consider the magnitude of the event itself, and that the change it effects in our condition is not only awfully great, but will continue, beyond any possibility of future change, to eternity. Hence our Saviour urges this circumstance as one of the most powerful motives to incessant vigilance. " Watch, therefore, for ye kiiow neither the day nor the hour when the Sou of man cometh. If the good man of the house had known at what hour the thief would come, he would have vVatched, and not have suflered his house to be broken through." " Stand, therefore, having your loins girt, your lamps burning, and ye yourselves like unto men that wait for the coming of their Lord. Who is that wise and faithful servant whom his Lord, when he cometh, shall find so doing ?" God is pleased to deal with us, in the economy of his providence and grace, as crea- tures that possess reason, and are therefore accountable, — that can look forward, and make provision for the exigencies of the future, — and whose great business it is to " work out our salvation with fear and trembling." The great necessity which attaches to us is that of changing worlds ; while our life is but a fleeting vapour, liable to be instantly extinguished. That event is perpetually suspended over us, as the inevitable circumstance attending our destiny ; but we are in total ignorance of tlie time of its arrival. We cannot, therefore, with- out the greatest presumption, call a single moment our own. Kow is 326 THE GLORY OF GOD IN CONCEALING. this arrangement adapted to fix and concentrate our attention on the momentous event ; to cause it to combine itself with all our plans and counsels ! If we are wise, we shall constantly remember our latter end, be always ready, and not suffer that day to come upon us like a thief. " Blessed is he that watcheth, and kecpeth his garments." There is another, less solemn, yet important view which may be taken of this point, and equally illustrates the wisdom of God in con- cealing future events. Were the time of our death foreseen, what a melancholy character would it impart to the pursuits and occupations of the human race ! If every man saw the moment of his death con- tinually before him, how would his thouglits be fixed to the fatal spot; and, as it approached nearer, the consideration of it would probably absorb every other. With respect to our fellow-creatures, how would it poison the springs of enjoyment, were parents and children, hus- bands and wives, brothers and sisters, able to calculate with certainty the period of each other's lives ! We should seem to be walking among the victims of death ; the scenes of human existence would lose all cheerfulness, animation, and beauty. The interests of society would also sustain most serious injury. Many great and noble enter- prises would never have been begun, could the persons who, in the hope of life, engaged in them, have foreseen that before they could be con- cluded they themselves would be snatched away by the hand of death. Many discoveries, by which great benefit has been conferred on the world, would not have been elicited. Few efibrts probably would be made to attain any object, the consequences of which terminate with the life of the party, if he foresaw that they would be intercej)ted by death. Who would build, or engage in any lucrative employment, if he certainly knew that the benefit would not be even partially realized during the term of his mortal existence ? But, happily for mankind, events are concealed — duties only are made known. With respect also to calamities which stop short of death, how wisely is it ordered, that, in consequence of their coming upon us by surprise, the courage and fortitude required to encounter them are not weakened by a presenti- ment of dread ! The prospect of them perpetually before our eyes would throw a cloud over the whole path of life, and when they arrived would cause them to fall upon us with supernumerary and redoubled weight. On the other hand, could we foresee our successes, they would lose much of their flavour and relish. The surprise with which they often come upon us is one element of otir enjoyment of them. The future world also has been placed, bj^ the wisdom of God, just in that light in which it is most for our benefit that it should be placed. Were we fixed in the situation of the apostle ,Tohn, were tiie heavenly state continually laid open to our view, religion would be no longer a voluntary service ; we should be forced to attend to objects so trans- cendently glorious brought thus near to us. Could we distinctly hear the voices, like mighty thunderings, heard within the vail, they would render us deaf to every earthly sound : religion would be no longer matter of choice ; and consequently faith would be no longer matter of THE GLORY OF GOD IN CONCEALING. 327 virtue. The preference of present to future interests, and therefore the exercise of self-denial, would be impossible. But the Divine Being has been pleased to throw over the heavenly world a great degree of obscurity. Jesus Christ has indeed brought life and immortality to light by the gospel ; has raised our hopes to the highest point, by investing the future state of glory with unspeakable elevation and gran- deur ; but has not explicitly taught us in what that state will consist : " It doth not yet appear what we shall be." We know enough of futurity to make it become the great object of our attention ; although it does not so press upon our organs as to render us insensible to pres- ent scenes and interests. 4. The glory of God is concerned in concealing much in his char- acter, works, providence, and revelation, because tliis will probably be a source of great additional happiness to the redeemed, and mingle itself among the elements of devotional enjoyment in the eternal state. A degree of surprise and astonishment, which cannot consist with the perfect comprehension of whatever falls under our cognizance, appears to be one ingredient in the highest degree of felicity of which a rational being is susceptible. There is a principle in the constitution of our nature which renders us dissatisfied with what we thoroughly under- stand in all its parts : when there is nothing more to be discovered, from that moment it begins to pall upon us, and we must pass to some- thing which will give scope to the activities of the human mind. The Deity is intended to be the everlasting field of the human intel- lect, as well as the everlasting object of the human heart, the ever- lasting portion of all holy and happy minds, who are destined to spend a blissful but ever-active eternity in the contemplation of his glory. This can only be effected by his concealing himself. He will for ever remain "the unknown God." We shall ever be conscious that we know little compared with what remains to be known of him ; that our most rapturous and lofty songs fall infinitely short of his excellence. If we stretch our powers to the uttermost, we shall never exhaust his praise, never render him adequate honour, never discharge the full amount of claim which he possesses upon our veneration, obedience, and gratitude. When we have loved him with the greatest fervour, our love will still be cold compared with his title to our devoted attach- ment. Tiiis will render him the continual source of fresh delight to all eternity. His perfection will be an abyss never to be fathomed ; there will be depths in his excellence which we shall never be able to penetrate. We shall dehght in losing ourselves in his infinity. An un- bounded prospect will be extended before us ; looking forward throuoh the vista of interminable ages, we shall find a blissful occupation for our faculties, which can never end ; while those faculties will retain their vigour unimpaired, flourish in the bloom of perpetual youth ; and the full consciousness remain that the Being whom we contem- plate can never be found out to perfection that he may always add to the impression of what we know, by throwing a veil of indefi- nite obscurity over his character. The shades in which he will for ever conceal himself will have the same tendency to excite our adoring 328 THE GLORY OF GOD IN CONCEALING. wonder as the effulgence of his glory ; the depths in which he will retire from our view, the recesses of his wisdom and power, as the open paths of his manifestation. Were we capable of comprehending the Deity, devotion would not be the sublimest employment to which we can attain. In the contemplation of snch a Being we are in no danger of going beyond our subject ; we are conversing with an infinite object ..... in the depths of whose essence and purposes we are for ever lost. This will probably give all the emotions of freshness and astonishment to the raptures of beatific vision, and add a delightful zest to the devotions of eternity. This will enable the Divine Being to pour in continually fresh accessions of light ; to unfold new views of his character, disclose new parts of his perfection, open new mansions in himself, in which the mind will have ample room to expatiate. Thus shall we learn, to eternity, that, so far from exhausting his infinite fulness, there still remain infinite recesses in his nature unexplored — scenes in his counsels never brought before the view of his creatures ; that we know but " parts of his ways ;" and that instead of exhaust- ing our theme, we are not even approaching nearer to the comprehen- sion of the Eternal All. It is the mysteriousness of God, the inscru- tability of his essence, the shade in which he is invested, that will excite those peculiar emotions wliich nothing but transcendent perfec- tion and unspeakable grandeur can inspire. Before I conclude this discourse, permit me to remind you, that while there are many things which God conceals, and thereby advances his glory, he has made manifest whatever is essential for man to know. Whatever is intimately connected with our duty is most plainly taught ; whatever is important to our welfare and happiness is fully revealed. Do not for a moment imagine that he has concealed any thing that bears a near relation to your interest. " He hath shewed thee, O man, what is good." He has distinctly set before you the good and evil of a future life. It is true, you know not the time of your death, but you knov/ that you are mortal ; you know not the jjarticulars of what will succeed death, but you know that there will be a resurrection of the dead, both of the just and also of the unjust ; that they who have done good shall come forth to the resurrection of life, they that have done evil to the resurrection of condemnation. Jesus Christ has dis- closed in the gospel, as lar as they are important for any practical purposes, the realities of eternity ; has announced to you his second appearance to raise the dead, and decide the eternal destinies of the human race ; to separate between the righteous and the wicked, place every individual of mankind in one of those classes, and divide them one from anotlior as a shepherd divideth his sheep from the goats. He has told you that he will say to the former, " Depart, ye cursed, into everlasting fire ;" and to the latter, " Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit tlie kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world." He has assured you, that those who die in a state of impenitence, unbelief, and alienation from God will sink into eternal misery ; that their doom shall be to go away into everlasting piuiish- ment, the portion of the devil and his angels. Those, on the contrary, THE GLORY OF GOD IN CONCEALING. 329 who are righteous, who are penitent believers, shall be raised in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, and then caught up to meet the Lord in the air ; afterward be assessors with him in the judgment ; and, at the end of that solemn process, shall enter with him through the gates into the city, and be for ever with the Lord. You are assured, that immediately after the event of your death has taken place, there will remain no possibility of a change in your condition — that you will take possession of all the horrors of hell, or all the glories of heaven, the moment that the vapour of your life is extin- guished in the element of death. He has told you, that you must have to do with Christ, either in the exercise of faith and trust here? or of astonishment and surprise when you shall lift up your eyes and see, in the person of a neglected Saviour, your offended Sovereign and righteous Judge ! " Behold, he cometh with clouds, and every eye shall see him; they also that pierced him shall wail because of him." " Before him shall be gathered all nations." They who have not received his gospel, submitted to his sceptre, cast themselves into the arms of his grace shall be banished for ever from his pres- ence. The divine glory is intrusted to him ; the destinies of the world are committed to his hands. You have no other resource but to " kiss the Son, lest he be angry, and ye perish from the way, when his wrath is kindled but a little. Blessed are all they that put their trust in him." He has not only disclosed to you the fact, but also many of the circumstances and appendages of that solemn assize, in which the eternal destinies of all mankind will be determined ; that a great white throne will be spread, and from the face of him that sitteth upon it the heavens and the earth will flee away ; that the books shall be opened, and allmen judged out of the things written in those books, " according to their works ;"* that the secrets of all heai'ts shall be made manifest ; and an eternity of happiness or misery dealt out to every one by his mighty hand, according to the deeds done in the body, whether they be good or evil ; that the earth and all the works that are therein shall be burned up ; that the heavens shall pass away with a great noise, and the elements melt with fervent heat ; that for the abode of the righteous there shall be new heavens and a new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness ; that in the bottomless abyss prepared for apostate angels all the wicked shall be for ever confined. These are subjects on which the wisdom of man can say nothing, or can utter but the feeble articulations of infancy The highest efibrts of human sagacity reach not beyond the bounds of time ; they cannot pass the threshold of eternity. They are scanty and inadequate, and leave the world in darkness and misery, com- pared with these discoveries of revelation. Do not conclude, from the partial obscurity which attends some of its truths, that religion is not the great concern of accountable immortal creatures, or that you will be justified in disregarding such afl'ecting prospects as these. * Rtv. XX. 11-13. 330 THE GLORY OF GOD IN CONCEALING. No, my brethren, this obscurity is not such as to hide from you your great interest, to make a right choice doubtful, or render it matter of the least hesitation whether you should serve God or not. God lias revealed enough, where the light of the gospel comes, to give men the clearest information concerning their eternal welfare ; has set before them life, and has set before them death ; has pointed out the broad and the narrow way ; shown them the path of destruction, that they may avoid it — and the way of life, that they may walk in it. Jesus Christ has come to render these things so plain and obvious, that even " wayfaring men, though fools, may not err therein." Though, with respect to the constitution of his person, mysterious as his Divine Father, being " the brightness of his glory, and the express image of his person ;" with respect to the practical purpose of his incarnation, the great design of his appearance in human flesh, he is " the Light of the w^orld ; whoso foUoweth him shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life."* " I am the way, the truth, and the life : no man cometh unto the Father, but by me."t If you are earnest in seeking the salvation of your souls, you have all the evidence you can wish ; you are distinctly informed, that a remedy has been provided, exactly suited to your case. Though you are guilty, the blood of Christ can expiate that guilt ; though you are polluted, the Spirit of Christ can cleanse from that pollution. The gospel is every way adapted to your wants and misery. It has pleased the Father that in Christ all fulness should dwell. You are invited to come to him at this moment, to receive out of that fulness all spiritual blessings — pardon, sanctification, and life everlasting. He has given you, in refer- ence to these, " line upon line, precept upon precept." Jesus Christ has become the incarnate wisdom of God. No person now need perish for want of a profound understanding, since the method of sal- vation has been brought down to the level of the meanest capacity : *' Wisdom stands at the corners of the streets, and cries. To you, 0 men, I call, and my voice is to the sons of men." Surely these are the deep things of God, which the Spirit who searchcth all things alone has explored ; which the wisdom of the world never knew, the tongue of human eloquence never proclaimed, the discoveries of human piii- losophy never approached : but now they form the very elements of piety, so that the meanest person cannot neglect them without living in a practical defiance of God, and contempt of his authority. He has thrown an air of obscurity over a thousand other things, but not over the things that make for your peace. You are not left in any uncer- tainty as to the basis of hope towards God. He has clearly taught you what you must do to be saved ; how you may draw nigh to God, even to his seat ; and through what medium you may pour out your hearts before him. " Behold," he says, " I lay m Zion a foundation- stone. Other foundation can no man lay than that which is laid, Jesus Christ. If any man sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous. He is the propitiation for our sins. Him that * John viii. 12. t John xiv. 6. THE GLORY OF GOD IN CONCEALING. 331 cometh unto me I will in nowise cast out." You know what is that path which will bring you to eternal blessedness that with shame and confusion of face, on account of your past transgressions, you " flee for refuge to lay hold on the hope set before you ;" that he may " of God be made unto you wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption." This is a plain path, open to all. " Secret things belong unto the Lord our God ;" but these are " things revealed, that belong unto us and to our children for ever." Among the things fully revealed is the placability of God, his readiness to receive the chief of sinners who repent of iheir sins and believe the gospel. He stands with open arms to receive returning prodigals. Though he condescends not to reveal the secrets of his wisdom, counsel, and government, he has opened the secrets of his heart, displayed the riches of his compassion and grace. He says, " Look unto me and be ye saved, all ye ends of the earth ; for I am God, and there is none else." This is your wisdom ; this is your happiness ; this is the only way to everlasting life. Let us all apply our hearts and consciences to the plain undeniable declarations of revelation. There will be no excuse for any one who lives a sinful, careless, and worldly life, and refuses to enter into covenant with GJod by the sacrifice of his Redeemer, and to serve him, on account of the obscurity of the doctrine of salvation. That obscurity is not of such a nature as to darken its evidence, or render in the least degree doubtful any thing that relates to the duties and prospects of accountable im- mortal creatures. There is no knowledge of any value to you in comparison of this — the knowledge of Christ, and him crucified. You are called upon, by believing in him, to unite yourselves to his promises, and cleave to his unsearchable riches. Have you done tins ? have you believed in this Saviour, who is the Light of the world ? Are you walking in the light ; or treasuring up materials of accumulated con- demnation, by saying to God, " Depart from us, we desire not the knowledge of thy ways," — though he approaches you, not in the char- acter of a judge, but as the Father of mercies and the God of all grace, giving his " only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him might not perish, but have everlasting life ?" Let not this be " your condem- nation, that light is come into the world, but that you loved darkness rather than light, because your deeds are evil." But " walk in the light while you have the light, lest darkness come upon you." Sub- mit to Jesus Christ ; be guided by his holy truths and precepts ; and you will attain that happiness which " eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor hath entered into the heart of man." 332 JOHN FULFILLED HIS COURSE. III. ON THE DUTY, HAPPINESS, AND HONOUR OF MAINTAIN- ING THE COURSE PRESCRIBED TO US BY PROVIDENCE, Acts xiii. 25. — As John fulfilled his course.* [preached at the chapel, maze pond, southwark, may 26, 1811.] The life of every individual may be compared to a river : rising inobscm-ity, increasing by the accession of tributary streams, and, after flowing through a longer or shorter distance, losing itself in some com- mon receptacle. The lives of individuals also, like the course of rivers, may be more or less extensive, but will all vanish and disappear in the gulf of eternity. While a stream is confined within its banks, it fertilizes, enriches, and improves the country through which it passes ; but if it deserts its channel it becomes injurious and destructive, a sort of public nuisance, and, by stagnating in lakes and marshes, its ex- lialations diiTuse pestilence and disease around. Some p,lide away in obscurity and insignificance ; while others become celebrated, traverse continents, give names to countries, and assign the boundaries of empires. Some are tranquil and gentle in their course ; while others, rushing in torrents, dashing over precipices, and tumbling in "waterfalls, become objects of terror and dismay. But, however diver- sified their character or their direction, all agree in having their course short, limited, and determined ; soon they fall into one capacious re- ceptacle ; their waters eventually mix in the waves of the ocean. Thus human characters, however various, have one common destiny ; their course of action may be greatly diversified, but they all lose themselves in the ocean of eternity. Few have appeared on the stage of action whose life was more im- portant tlian that of the great prophet mentioned in my text. His course was a very extraordinary one, distinguished in some sense above all others, our blessed Lord himself only and always excepted. John was called to a very singular work ; his ministry formed an epoch in the history of the church. It was the connecting link between the two dispensations. He first preached the baptism of repentance to all the people of Israel. " The law and the prophets were until John : since that time the kingdom of God was preached, and every man pressed into it." The most extraordinary events began with the baptism of John, and continued until Clirist was taken up into heaven. His peculiar oifice was to announce tlie Saviour of the world as then present in it : other • Printed from Ihe notes of W. B. Gumey, Esq. JOHN FULFILLED HIS COURSE. 333 prophets had spoken of him as to come ; " hut there standelh,'"' says John, " among you one tvhose shoe-latchet I am not worthy to vnloose." He was " the voice of one crying in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the Lord ;" and while he was actually engaged in his commis- sion, he was able to declare, " Behold, he standeth among you.'''' His commission was high : to reclaim an apostate people ; " to turn the hearts of the fathers to the children, and the disobedient to the wisdom of the just ;" " to make ready a people prepared for the Lord." His career, too, v.'as extraordinary, and his character and course marked and different from all others. Much of the wisdom of Providence appears in fitting the instrument to the work. The work appointed to John was to reclaim a nation from its departure from God, to rouse a people sunk in insensibility and impenitence, to preach repentance, to proclaim the approach of the kingdom of heaven, to usher in a higher economy, a new dispensation ; and for all this he was admirably quali- fied. He Avas endued with the spirit and power of Elias. His spirit was undaunted and unyielding ; he rebuked the pride of kings. He was indifferent and insensible alike to the charms of pleasure, the allurements of pomp, the smiles of power, and the frowns of great- ness. His whole soul was concentrated in his object ; he was su- perior to the world, — its forms and fashions made no impression on his mind, and left no traces. He was austere in his manner, abstemious in his food, rustic in his apparel : he partook of the wildness of the wilderness in which he first made his appearance. " He had his rai- ment of camels' hair, a leathern girdle was about his loins, and his meat was locusts and wild honey." 'lliese are lively images of his work. " Then went out unto him Jerusalem and all Judea, and the region round about Jordan ; and were baptized of him, confessing their sins." His ministry finished the legal, and brought in the evangelical dis- pensation. His voice was like the strong wind that bloweth — the whirlwind that maketh the earth to quake — the loud blast of that trumpet which was to wake the nations — the earthquake and the whirl- wind which immediately preceded " the still small voice." His career was brilliant, and his success extraordinary. A large portion of the Jews became his converts, at least for a time : even the scribes and Pharisees listened to him. " He was a burning and a shining light :" the apostles themselves were many of them first his disciples, and re- ceived from him those instructions which prepared them for the coming of the Messiah. By the authentic historian Josephus he is spoken of in terms of the highest encomium. It is remarkable, above all, that he was the only prophet born of woman who was himself the subject of prophecy. As his course was short, so was his end violent and tragical. He fell a martyr to his fidelity, and the artifices of an intriguing woman. Having rebuked Herod on account of his incestuous intercourse with his brother's wife, he was sacrificed to her resentment. He disappeared soon : his course was hurried and impetuous ; eager, as it were, to reach his destination, and to minde his grand soul with its kindred elements in eternity. He was raised up for a particular service ; and 334 JOHN FULFILLED HIS COURSE. when that was accomplished he was removed. He was not the light, but the harbinger of that liglu, the morning star that was to usher in the Sun of Righteousness. " He bore witness of the light, but he was not that light ;" and no sooner did that light appear than he was with- drawn, that nothing might divide the great homage due to the Saviour, according to his own prediction — " He must increase, but I must decrease." Having, perhaps, already detained you too long in contemplating the character and conduct of John the Baptist, I shall occupy what re- mains of our time in illustrating and inculcating two or three practical observations, founded on the words of the text. I. That there is a prescribed course or sphere of action, appointed to every individual by the Author of our nature. We are not a race of independent creatures abandoned to live with- out control ; we are not sent into die world to follow the dictates of our own will. We cannot commit a greater mistake than to suppose that we are in any sense our own ; we belong to another : even our limbs and faculties do not so much belong to ourselves as we do to our Maker. To do his will, to conform to his pleasure, to keep his com- mandments, to fulfil his designs, to serve the end of his government, and to promote his glory, — these are tlie great ends of our existence ; and to attain them ought to be tlie fundamental law of our being : other- wise we live in vain, worse than in vain; and it would have been better for us never to have had an existence. There is one great principle of a holy life which is one and the same in all who live as they ought ; and that is, conforming ourselves to the will of God, complying with his plan, doing every thing to please and glorify him. Thus our Saviour himself when in this world was devoted to his Father's will ; this was his object constantly, even when observed by those around him. It cannot be better exemplified than in that beautiful saying of his, when he was requested to take refresh- ment at the well of Jacob — " 1 have meat to eat that the world know- eth not of; my meat is to do the will of Him that sent me, and to finish his work :" and it is doing the will of God from the heart, which im- plies a careful attention to all the manifestations of it, and a reveren- tial regard to all the discoveries of it, with a fixed and determined resolution to comply with it whenever and wherever it is known. This, as I said, is the end of our existence, the business of our life ; and we live to no purpose, or to a bad one, but as we conform to it. But, although tliis is the universal principle by which all are to be actuated and guided, yet it admits of great and luunerous variations in its practi- cal application. The principle is tlie same ; but when it comes to be acted upon by individuals, and imbodied in tlie experience and conduct of men in the several conditions of lile, it gives birth to an endless diversity. To do the will of God, and to promote his glory, is the proper object and end of all : but the manner in which an apostle, for instance, was called upon to do this, is not that in which an ordinary teacher is to do it ; nor tiie manner of an ordinary teacher that of a private Christian. The duties of a sovereign are extremely different JOHN FULFILLED HLS COURSE. 335 from those of his ministers and officers of state ; and those, again, from the duties of inferior magistrates ; and of magistrates, from those of private subjects. Of the rich it is required to do good and to com- municate, to sustain the cause of God and truth in the world, to sup- port public institutions of a charitable and beneficial nature, and freely to distribute of their abundance to the necessities of their fellow-crea- tures ; of the poor, to be prudent, diligent, careful; and so on. Thus the several conditions and relations of individuals have their respective duties, in which they are to do the will of God, in '■'■fuJjil- ling their course ;" but in each and all, the same care and attention ought to be maintained to the one grand principle of which we have been speaking : one spirit should animate the whole ; one great end, under whatever variety of form and mode. In the principles of human nature, and in the powers and faculties of our bodies and senses, there is a general agreement : yet no two individuals of the human race are alike ; and the same variety exists in moral arrangements. In the elements which compose the principle of holiness, the essential ingredients are the same ; but when they come to be applied and imbodied in a right course of action, they often seem widely diiferent. Although the end is the same in all, yet the manner in which this end is viewed will be various : the rays of light when blended in day are simple and of a uniform colour ; but when they are refracted through a prism they exhibit all the colours of the rainbow. Such, my brethren, are the principles of holiness, and their diversified action in individuals : but, I repeat it, it is doing the will of God in all ; this, this is the object, the grand vital principle, that ani- mates good men in all ages, in all circumstances, of all classes and denominations. This is the true catholic spirit, which unites all the members of the true church ; and in proportion as men live well, and live for eternity, this is the ruling and governing" principle, — to glorify God. II. We observe that there is a set and limited time allotted to that sphere and course of action : " There is an appointed time to man upon earth." The course of man is not indeterminate, but has its limits, and they are narrow : " Man that is born of a woman hath but a short time." If we had not the testimony of Scripture on this point, it would be reasonable to conclude, from our observation of nature and the world around us, that the termination of human life is not left in uncertainty, but that it is directed by the wisdom of Him who himself is the Author of existence. If " a sparrow falleth not to the ground without his knowledge," much less can the death of a human creature take place without his interposition. Whether we fall premature vic- tims to disease, or perish by what men call accident, or sink under the burdens of age, still it is according to the will of God, " whose coun- sels shall stand, and who will do all his pleasure." This course is not only limited, but it is short. It is but a little time that we spend on earth: "Behold," says the Psalmist, " thou hast 336 JOHN FULFILLED HIS COURSE. made my days as an handbreadth, and my years are as nothing before thee." Whether we drop in infancy from the cradle to the grave, or are cut off in youth ; whether we attain to manhood, or even to old ■d^e ; still we soon arrive at the boundary, we soon reach the end of our course, and often without passing through its intermediate stages. " Behold, thou hast made my days as an handbreadth, and mine age is as nothing before thee !" The stream of human existence is rapid and impetuous ; its waves follow each other in quick succession, and many are ingulfed almost as soon as they appear. Early in infancy the stream glides away like a summer brook, and leaves the fond parent mournfully to recall the pleasure he received in contemplating its unsullied purity and its play- ful meanders. Of those who set out with us in this journey of life, how many have disappeared from our side ! what changes have taken place in the circle of our connexions since we began our course ! how few can we now number of those with whom, in the earlier period of our lives, " we took sweet counsel !" Every year makes great changes. How great are the changes, my brethren, which have been made in the face of this congregation ! AVhere are many of our friends in whom we delighted 1 They have finished their course ; they have passed through the gate that opens into the invisible world ; they have completed their probation, and appeared at the tribunal of Infinite Majesty ; they have done with the converse of mortals, and have seen and heard things which it is impossible to utter ; they have for ever finished their course. III. Our happiness and our honour consist errtirely in completing the course which God has assigned to us. In filling up the sphere of action which he has prescribed, and which his providence has marked out to us, there are two great mistakes into which we are liable to fall, in our views of this subject. 1. That there is some other happiness and honour than that which is to be found in fulfilling our course, or, in other words, occupying that sphere of duty which God hath been pleased to assign us. Some are looking for their satisfaction to the pleasures of sin ; others to the gratification which the world affords ; some attach their notion of happiness to some external situation not yet found, and imagine it is to be met with there. Settle it in your minds, my dear friends, that the only happiness worth seeking, — that which will live in all circum- stances, and abide the vicissitudes of life, — our only real and proper good, — consists in fulfilling our course, conforming to the Divine will, irahating the Divine perfections, obeying God's commands, walking in the light of his countenance, and being at peace with him. The pre- scription of this as the way to happiness is among the fixed laws of our nature : it is " founded among the floods, deeper than the foundations of the everlasting mountains." It forms a part of the constitution of heaven itself. It was among the original decrees promulgated by God in the silence of the imiverse. Eternal truth has declared, that " the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom ; and to depart from evil, that is understanding." Coidd you ask the children of men, JOHN FULFILLED HIS COURSE. 337 one by one, at the verge of life, — and especially those who have passed into eternity, — from tiie very commencement of time, whether they have been happy, and what constituted their happiness, there is not one who would not confess that the fear of the Lord was the only wisdom, and the knowledge of the Most High the supreme good. If you could find aretyther species of happiness, it would be what the wisdom of man has not yet discovered. You must look into some corner of the world which tlie eye of Omniscience has not penetrated ; you must defy Omnipotence, and give the lie to eternal truth. " Where," says the Almighty, " is the place of wisdom ?" All crea- tures testify that it is not in them. But God declares, " The fear of the Lord, that is wisdom." Accursed be that impiety, shut out from the universe be the shadow of that conception, which would represent happiness to be found in the depths, the heights, the breadths, or in any thing separate from the service, the knowledge, and the love of the Eternal Being, This, " this is life eternal, to know thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent." This fountain of water flows for the refresh- ment of the meanest peasant, as well as of the greatest monarch ; this is a universal school of wisdom, into which all are invited. You may be happjs but there is but one way, and that is, " fulfilling your course," consulting the will of God, commending j^ourself to the guidance of his wisdom in a life of religion, living not to yourselves but unto God, seeking satisfaction in the mortification of every inclina- tion which crosses his everlasting purposes ; you may even lose your life for his sake, and you will find it. 2. The second mistake against which we should guard you is that of supposing we should be able to conform ourselves to the will of God, and to our own sphere of action, better in some other state ; and being therefore dissatisfied with that precise state in which his providence has placed us. The wisdom of each consists in fulfilling his oion course. The course of John the Baptist was ditficult, obstructed with afflictions, and beset with dangers ; but he fulfilled it. How many objections might he have formed against the precise course assigned him ! how many reasons might he have advanced for sup- posing tliat in soine other sphere he might have glorified God more entirely ! But he yielded himself to the wisdom of God. Some are ready to suppose that they should more easily comply with the dictates of religion, and more easily surmount temptations, in a condition diflerent from their own ; that they should have acted better in another combination of circumstances ; and thus venture, if I may so speak, to lay the blame of their defection and misconduct upon God, who has fixed the bounds of their habitation. The poor may easily imagine, how amiably and liberally they should have acted if their lot had been cast among the rich ; and the rich, 011 the other hand, how safely they should have been preserved from a variety of snares, if they had been screened by the privacy of the Vol. in.'— Y 338 ^ JOHN FULFILLED HIS COURSE. poor. The young will ascribe their errors to the impetuosity so natural to their age ; those who are more advanced are ready to imagine that if they enjoyed more leisure, and were not so entangled with tlie cares and perplexities of their active station, they should be better able to attend to the concerns of a future life. The aged are wishing for the energy and capacity of attention which belong to youth : their time, they plead, is passed ; it is too late for them to change. But all these are great mistakes. Our true happiness is to be found in fulfilling our present course, conforming ourselves to the duties of that station in which we are placed, in consulting tlie will of God under the circumstances in which we actually are, and improving the opportunity which our condition affords. If we do not 7ww love and fear the Supreme Being, — if we cannot 7iow resist temptation, mortify corruption, and devote ourselves to the service of God, — if we noio feel no resolution " to run the race that is set before us," — we may be assured that a change of circumstances will not avail. It is not a change of state that we want, but a change of heart : the disease is within, in the state of our minds, the bent of our dispositions, which will follow us into another situation, produce the same effects, and place us at the same distance from happiness. What you want, my brethren, and what we all want, is the renovating principle of Divine grace, that sanctifying principle within us ; to have the law of God written in our hearts, without which no other change will avail. The grace of God in the heart will preserve us in any and every situation, and in all circumstances will be fruitful of advantage to our souls : it will guide us and keep us humble in prosperity, cheer us in adversity, and render its discipline salutary ; it will sustain and direct us in life, support us in death, and go wilii us into eternity. It was this that enabled Joseph to preserve his cliastity in the midst of temptation ; that supported Daniel in tlie very jaws of lions ; and inspired the con- fidence of Shadrach, Meshech, and Abednego in " the flaming fiery furnace." This is the principle which brings God to our view in seasons of the greatest trial, by piercing the cloud of flesh, and enabling us to see him that is invisible to the eyes of sense. The man who possesses this principle will adorn an elevated condition with humility ; and a condition of obscurity and poverty with integrity and resignation. If, therefore, there be any persons in this assembly that feel a con- viction of the importance of, a religious life, and a course of right actions, but yet are sensible of a moral inability, let them have recourse to the fountain of Divine grace. Come to Him who is eyes to the blind, ears to the deaf, feet to the lame. Cast yourselves at the feet of the Saviour ; be conscious of your weakness, misery, and guilt. Pray to Him who is the fountain of all light, that the beams of his grace may be communicated to you ; tliat his light may shine into your hearts, to give unto you the light of the knowledge of the glory of God. This will govern the heart as well as guide the understanding, JOHN FULFILLED HIS COURSE. 339 direct the will, and regulate the affections : this will make you holy ; this will subdue temptation ; tliis will be an antidote against the infec- tion of evil examples. " This is the victory that overcometh the world, even our faith ; for who is he that overcometh the world, but he that believeih that Jesus Christ is the Son of God?" This will surmount the disorders of life, the fear of death, and conduct the soul to everlasting felicity. Finally, my brethren, let each of us attach himself with more seriousness, alacrhy, and fervour than ever, to the proper duties of his station ; let each consider in what instances he fails to fulfil his course ; let each examine himself, and see wherein he fails to observe "the good and perfect law of God." Let him discover "his easily besetting sin," and see how far this has perverted his course, and turned his affections from God. The time is coming when you will perceive that there is no true wisdom to be found but in doing the will of God. The value of time is to be estimated by the opportunity which it gives us of laying up riches for eternity. He is the most steady pursuer of his own interest Avho has " laid up treasure in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal." Some of you, perhaps, have not even begun : you have done nothing yet for the glory of God ; you have been living entirely to yourselves ; and your lives, it may be, are approaching to a close. Begin then to be wise ; reflect on what you have heard; and remember, it will be ratitied by the impressions of a dying hour. There are some present, perhaps, who are near to the end of their course, and have the satisfaction to reflect that they have had their conversation with God. Happy such persons, whatever their station in life may be ! Let the consideration of your having so nearly ful- filled your course make you more diligent and circumspect in what remains of it. In a very short time your conflict will be over, your corruptions will be slain. So near to victory, do not let the weapons of warfare fall out of your hands : " Be faithful unto death, and you shall receive a crown of life." The memory of John the Baptist is perpetuated with honour, be- cause he " fulfilled his course ;" while that of Herod and Pontius Pilate are covered with infimy. Which of these characters will you imitate 1 Will you be among those whom God condescends to honour, to whom he will say, " AVell done, good and faithful servants, enter ye into the joy of your Lord V or will you now surround yourselves with a few sparks of worldly pleasure, and lie down in eternal dark- ness ? Whenever the gospel is preached, this alternative is set before you ; the alternative of "shining like the sun forever; or of awaking to shame and everlasting contempt." If there were no judgment-seat at which we must appear, we might have our election between peace of conscience and the gratification of our desires. But our course here is a preparation for our course hereafter. Never dissever in your Y2 340 CHRIST'S PRE-EXISTENCE, minds a life of piety and a life of honour ; there is no glory, no hap- piness, but in the love and service of God. Hear the language of the apostle Paul, in the near prospect of a violent death : " I have finished my course, I have kept the faith ; henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness." Do you believe this 1 if you do not, you are not Christians ; you wear a mask. But if you do, the conviction and confession of this truth will for ever be a source of torment to you, unless you now imitate the conduct of this apostle, give yourselves up to God, and embrace and pursue a holy and religious life in Christ Jesus. IV. CHRIST'S PRE-EXISTENCE, CONDESCENSION, AND EXALTATION. Phil. ii. 5-9. — Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus : who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God : but made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men : and being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross. Wherefore God also hath highly exalted him* [preached at the chapel in dean^-stkeet, southwark, jaxE 27, 1813.] In this chapter it is manifest from the context that the apostle is inculcating upon professors of the gospel a spirit of condescension and humility. " Let nothing," saith he, " be done through strife or vainglory, but in lowliness of mind let each esteem other better than himself: look not every man on his own things, but every man also on the things of others." His intention is to enforce a disposition that enters very deeply into the lowly spirit of the gospel, an attention to the circumstances of others, a preference of their interests to our own, and a willingness to condescend to make great sacritices of our own interest and gratifica- tion, of our own honour and advantage, to promote their good. It is that particular species of Christian virtue and benevolence which stands opposed to the tenacious mainloiiance of outward distinctions and dignities that insists on all the honour and pre-eminence which we might be supposed to have a right to claim; and lays by its own advantage and honour for the sake of promoting the spiritual and tem- * From the notes of W. B. Gurncy, Esq., corrected, in a few casi-s, by comparison with the notes sent by six other fViends. See INIr. Hall's own sketch of tlie argument, p. 24-28.— Ed. CONDESCENSION, AND EXALTATION. 341 poral interests of our fellow-creatures, and especially of our fellow- christians. Of this disposition he presents a striking example in the noble con- duct of our Saviour, and in the great doctrines which are exhibited in his incarnation and converse in tliis world, as well as in the wonderful example of love and humility which he showed in becoming " obedient unto death, even the death of the cross ;" and he shows that by such a conduct as this it was that Jesus Christ rose in our nature to that inexpressible majesty with which he is at present invested. "Where- fore God also hath highly exalted him, and given him a name which is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things on earth, and things under the earth ; and that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father." Permit me to request your attention while I endeavour to set forth, in some imperfect measure, that example of great condescension and humility which is exhibited in the passage before us. Now, in the idea of condescension, we must suppose a superior and an inferior, — one by whom that virtue is exercised, and another to whom it is shown. Where there is a perfect equality there is no room for the exercise of this particular species of virtue ; much less where a superior only is in question : for, though we may behave our- selves with the utmost propriety towards an equal or a superior, yet it is impossible that he should be the object of our condescension ; this would involve a very great absurdity in language. Whenever we speak of this species of excellence, it always implies that it is an inferior towards whom it is exerted ; this is the necessary pre-requisite for the exercise of this particular form of Christian and moral virtue. In like manner it is evident that a stoop, a descent from some dignity or previous elevation, is always supposed in the exercise of this branch of virtue. It always implies a resignation of some claim to a superior station, a foregoing of some advantage or pre-emi- nence. It is also necessary that such humiliation should be perfectly voluntary ; a voluntary lowering of ourselves beneath the station which was previously occupied ; a laying down of some advantage or dignity. There is a strong contrast supposed in a series of acts of condescen- sion, or even in one, between the station we previously occupied and that in which we place ourselves. There is also an implied opposi- tion between something we possess and something we resign, and the station to which we are reduced in consequence of resigning it, — the station to which we bring ourselves, — which forms a powerful opposi- tion or contrast to what we might have assumed or previously pos- sessed. If our Saviour condescended, in the instance before us, it is mani- fest there must have been some previous elevation from which he descended — from which he passed to those acts which are here speci- fied. It is necessary, in order to make out an example from our Saviour's case, to specify the particular circumstances here implied, which stand opposed to other circumstances : the elevation must come 342 CHRIST'S PRE-EXISTENCE, first, and the voluntary depression of himself must come afterward. This is impUed in the very nature of things. In all acts of conde- scension we must suppose the person who performs them to be acting in a manner perfectly voluntary ; there must be no degradation in the case, nor any thing diat occurs by what we call chance or accident, nor yet the usuaf arrangements of Providence : nothing that thus occurs can give any scope to the exercise of this disposition. Though the manner in which that depression may be borne may evince much patience and equanimity, and much of the proper spirit of Christian resignation to the Divine will, yet it cannot be called an act of conde- scension, if it is to be traced to the irresistible operations of Divine grace, and much less still if it is the inevitable consequence of an irresistible law of nature. No one ever tliought of praising the great- est sovereign on earth on the ground of his condescension in being a man, though this places him in the most essential particulars on a level with his subjects ; a participation of human nature being a greater instance of equality than any circumstance that can produce inequality. No one, I say, would think of praising him on that account, because it is an effect of a law under which he was born, and which excludes his choice and volition. But not only is every instance of condescension supposed to involve the exercise of choice ; but there must be no very forcible obligation, no such strong and palpable obligation to the act that expresses the condescension, as that the contrary of it would shock our moral feel- ings, would appear exceedingly unbecoming, and excite a great degree of moral disapprobation. Though condescension be a great ornament to the character of a Christian, and springs from the principles of his religion, h is of a very different nature from the obligations of justice or even of humanity. It is of such a nature, indeed, that it is always supposed the not exercising it would not at the same time havejde- stroyed all claim to virtuous and honourable conduct. If there be a forcible obligation to such sort- of conduct, that conduct can never be entitled to the praise of eminent condescension. For example, nothing can be more plain than that it is the duty of every man to exercise humanity and strict justice towards all with whom he has to do. But, as the obligations to humanity, in cases of extreme distress, are very forcible and strong, the neglect of them lays a person open to great blame ; and the practice of them, in some instances, in proportion to their great obligation, deprives the conduct of the title to high praise '.nd commendation. In all cases the more palpable the obligation to conduct is, the less is there praiseworthy in complying with that obli- gation ; and, on the other hand, the fainter the previous obligation is supposed to be, the stronger is the instance of virtue from attending to so comparatively feeble a sense of obligation. Now, it is manifest, that if our Saviour be proposed as a pattern, it must be in some instance wonderfully condescending and humble, dif- ferent from what might have been expected ; that we must not merely look for what is virtuous and worthy, but for that which is so extraor- dinary and singular as to justify his being exhibited, in this part of his CONDESCENSION, AND EXALTATION. 343 conduct, as our example., If he be proposed as an imitable model of condescension, it must be for the exercise of this virtue in a very eminent and extraordinary degree; for notliing else can justify his being held up as a pattern to all ages. If, while it was imitable in its kind, it had not surpassed all comparison in degree, it would then have excited a vicious competition, — it would have contradicted the very purpose for which it was produced, which was to set our Saviour inexpressibly high in our esteem, and excite us to emulate his conduct, as far as we are able, with the most entire consciousness that we can only make an imperfect approach to it. We must look, then, for some very extra- ordinary instance of condescension in our Lord, something which must strike all eyes, something which cannot be accounted for without sup- posing inexpressible love in the breast of the Saviour, and such an infinite compassion towards a lost world as must place him beyond all comparison, or even the power of being imitated, in this respect. Now, there are two ways of interpreting this passage of Scripture ; and these remarks have been made to enable us to judge which is the best interpretation, which best corresponds with the intention of the sacred writer. If there be any doubt about the meaning of the text separately taken, and it is capable of two distinct interpretations, that must be allowed to be the just one which best corresponds with the purpose for which the passage is produced ; that which furnishes the argument tor which the passage is brought, that which most illustrates the particular moral duty intended to be inculcated, must be confessed to be the true one, in opposition to that which does not inculcate that duty. It is allowed that an attention to the scope of a passage, and a consideration of the purpose for which it was written, is one of the most certain guides. In interpreting this passage, and in determining which is to be pre- ferred of contrary interpretations, you must consider, not merely what meaning the words may bear, but which of the meanings proposed best corresponds with the intention of the inspired writer, by exhibiting our Saviour as a marvellous example of condescension. If there be a capacity of putting another construction on the words without any great force or violence to them, which, at the same lime, does not exhibit a striking example of condescension, — one which deprives our Saviour of the place he here occupies as a pattern, on the supposition of which it becomes difficult to conceive of any condescension at all remarkable, — we are justified in setting aside that interpretation ; not simply be- cause it appears less natural in itself, but because it is quite unsuitable to the place, by destroying and invalidating the purpose for which it is brought. I shall briefly propose to you the opposite interpretations which have been given to the passage before us. First, then, let us take that of those who deny the divinity of Christ and the incarnation, and, of consequence, all the doctrines connected with them : their interpretation is as follows : — " Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus, who, being in the form of God," that is, say they, being possessed of extraordinary miraculous powers. 344 CHRIST'S PRE-EXISTENCE, " thought it not robbery to be equal with God ;" which they interpret, whether justly or not I shall not now inquire, did not eagerly catch at, or -was not eager to maintain, the idea of any likeness to God, or equality with God, — " but made himself of no reputation ;" that is, say they, made himself poor, or reduced himself to a state of poverty and meanness ; — " and took upon him the form of a servant," which word they interpret slave, because, if die term servant stood, it is plain there could be no instance of condescension ; they therefore consider him as subjecting liimself to tlie abject state of a slave ; — " and was made in the likeness of man," which, say they, is like common men, not distinguishing himself by outward distinctions, but placing himself on a level with the meanest part of mankind ; — " and, being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross." Now this is the interpretation of those who would set aside the pre-existence of Christ in a state of majesty previously to his entrance into our Avorld, and the obvious argument that hence results in favour of condescension from the pre-eminent dignity and glory of the Saviour. But Tet us consider whether this interpretation can possibly stand, consistently with the pre-requisites we have before mentioned ; whether the instances here adduced can possibly exhibit any striking example of condescension on the part of the Saviour. " Being in the form of God," on the supposition of its meaning his being possessed of miraculous powers, must be the only elevation he possessed above common men. This was his great distinction ; but this he never laid aside. Here, therefore, instead of his conduct exhibiting a great example of condescension, the station he occupied he never came down irom ; he never lost it for a moment ; for the exercise of miraculous powprs continued through the whole of his ministrv with increasing splendour and advantage. With respect to the translation I have adverted to, and which I shall not now com- bat, because the requisite criticisms appear to me very untit for a popidar assembly ; let us take it that he did not eagerly catch it, or was not eager to maintain, his equality and likeness to God, still I affirm that this is not an instance of condescension, because there is upon creatures a forcible obligation not to contend for equality willi God : and althougli it would be extremely criminal not to comply with it, yet there can be no high degree of virtue in abstaining from so atrocious a degree of guilt. For a subject to refrain from assuming the dignity of sovereign would excite no admiration ; no one would think of highly praising his virtue because he did not raise a standard of rebellion against his sovereign. In proportion to the force of the obligation to abstain from such pretensions, in the same degree is such conduct considered only in a negative way ; that is, as exempted from censure, but not entitled highly to praise ; in some cases, indeed, not at all. But the apostle brings it as a proof of condescension and humility, that Christ Jesus did not eagerly affect, as they say, an cquaUty with God, or did not catch at it. How can that be an instance of condescension ? The example must surpass, I apprehend, all hu- man comprehension. " But made himself of no reputation," or, as CONDESCENSION, AND EXALTATION. 345 the expression literally is, emptied himself. Emptied himself of what 1 And, it is added, " took upon him the form of a servant." We might suppose that his emptying himself must mean his divesting himself, as the expression signifies, of sometliing before possessed, of some distinction and glory before mentioned ; and the only one, even in the esteem of our adversaries, is the form of God ; but, upon their suppo- sition, he did not empty himself of it at all ; he retained it ; for, during his whole ministry he exercised miraculous powers, and never more so than in the resurrection of Lazarus, which immediately preceded and accelerated his death. But, the text says, " he made himself of no reputation :" you may suppose that the writer is going to tell us for what reason he took upon himself the form of a servant. Here, the " form of God" being mentioned before, it is manifest that the " form of a servant" is the intended antithesis. But, upon the sup- position of Jesus Christ having no existence before he came into our world, there can be no interpretation given to it, unless we interpret servant, slave, and suppose that he degraded himself to the service of a common slave. But if Jesus Christ acted the part of a slave, or sustained the character of a slave, it must be either in relation to God or to man. With respect to men, it is manifest he did not act the part of a slave, he never sustained that capacity at all, much less took upon him that character permanently ; he never M'as in captivity: it was not then his relation to society. With respect to his Heavenly Father, it cannot be supposed that it can be applied to his service to God ; nothing can be so absurd : no service which the Divine Being can be supposed to prescribe to an accountable creature, can be viewed in a degrading light. And where is there any example of the term slave signifying a very mean servant of God 1 Are not the angels themselves styled the servants of God ? Does not Paul call himself the servant of God 1 Does not the angel in the Apocalypse style himself the fellow-servant of John? Would our very adversaries themselves so exceedingly disfigure the language of Scripture as to style these the slaves of God ? What can it then be for, but to answer a purpose perfecdy palpable, without being at the same time able to assign any just and proper meaning to the term? "And was made in the likeness of men :" here it is represented as an act of great con- descension in our Saviour that he was made in the likeness of men ; but how could he assume any other appearance than that of a man ? how could he Axil to appear in that character, with no other attribute belonging to him than that of a human being? "Being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross." Now, these expressions evi- dently are intended to introduce a proof of our Saviour's great conde- scension and humility ; but none of them answer this purpose in the least degree, but on the supposition of there being some previous dignity or rank from which he descended. There is no contrast on the supposition of mere humanity, between this and the previous state ; there is no forcible or palpable opposition between what he became and what he was : he always was a servant, he always icas 846 CHRIST'S PRE-EXISTENCE, in the likeness oi man, could be nothing but man ; and yet his being so is represented as a marvellous instance of condescension and humility in the Redeemer ! On the supposition that Jesus Christ did not exist before he came into our world, the order of things is inverted ; for the dignity of our Saviour, his elevation, came afterward, upon this supposition, and his depression came first : he had no elevation of an earthly kind at all from which he could condescend, and he is the greatest example, if he were no more than man, of a person raising himself to great dignity and authority from the meanest and most abject beginning. No " form of God" was perceived in him in the commencement of his ministry. He possessed miraculous powers, it is true ; but he possessed them to the end, and these he never lost. " My Father worketh, and I work." Upon the supposition of his mere humanity, the contrast is of a different kind : he is the most wonderful example of a person rising from the most obscure beginning, commencing m lowly circumstances, and ascending to grandeur. But if we take the expressions according to their obvious and popular import, they afford the most striking illustration of the purpose of the apostle in exhibiting the condescension and humility of the Saviour. " Who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God, but made himself of no reputation, and took upon himself the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men." Here the form of God and the form of a servant are contrasted with each other ; and as the form of a servant is universally understood as acknowledg- ing that he was a servant, what can we suppose the being in the form of God to mean, but that he was God ; though that may not be its only meaning? He is said to have taken upon himself the form of a servant : here try the meaning of those who oppose the divinity of Christ, that he was not eager to Catch at, or to retain the likeness of God ; and then, upon the supposition of his being the Son of God, possessing the Divine nature, and uniting himself to mortal flesh, you will find that the latter perfectly corresponds with the intention of the apostle. And his emptying himself, and taking upon him the form of a servant, is, indeed, a great instance of condescension, on the suppo- sition of his being a Son ; for there is a visible contrast between the being a son and a servant, which the apostle observes when he re- marks, that " though he were a son, yet learned he obedience by the things which he suffered." There is also, upon this supposition, a plain meaning assigned to the whole, the words of existence differing from the words of assumption. " Who being in the form of God, MADE himself of no reputation, took upon himself the form of a ser- vant, was Made in the likeness of men, and being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself.'''' For here we have the state he formerly possessed expressed by the word being ; and the word made, signi- fying that he became so by being made so ; agreeably to what the apostle John says, " The Word was with God, and the Word was God;" and further, "The Word was made flesh, and dwelt among ■us." The same apostle, Paul, expresses the reason of his assummg a nature that did not belong to him, an inferior nature : — " Forasmuch CONDESCENSION, AND EXALTATION. 347 as the children are partakers of flesh and blood, he also himself like- wise took part of the same, that throiigli death he might destroy him that had the power of death, tliat is, the devil." But what possible contrast of this nature can be found upon the supposition of Christ's mere humanity ? Where was there any descent from the form of God ? And why should that which could not be avoided, which was not volun- tary, be expressed in the way it is, — " Took upon himself the form of a servant," — " humbled himself," and so on, when the very nature of things, the universal law of nature, rendered it impossible for him to be other than a mere man, and consequently a servant of the Most High God ? The doctrine of Christ's humiliation and incarnation is expressed in the most forcible manner, and worthy of our most attentive admiration and adoration. " Being found in fashion as a man, he humbled him- self;" he still humbled himself. He was not satisfied with being found in fashion as a man, which was a wonderful act of condescen- sion ; he was not satisfied with taking upon him the form of a servant ; he not merely assumed a very low station in society ; but he still humbled himself: he descended lower than the mere level of human nature required ; he descended deeper and deeper, and was not con- tented till he had reached the very bottom of humiliation, till he " be- came obedient unto death." Nay, even that was not sufficient ; there Avas one death more ignominious, more painful, more replete with agony and shame, than any other ; and for the purpose, the glorious purpose, of his coming into our world, he selected that death, he deter- mined to die that death, that very death ; and made that his peculiar province in which he should appear, to the destruction of our spiritual enemies, and the conquest of the powers of darkness. " He became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross." It was from this cross, which was the lowest step to vvliich he could possibly descend, that he arose to his crown ; '\l was from thence that " he ascended up on high," that he was elevated to the right-hand of God ; that tliere might be exhibited in his person the most wonderful contrast of the original dignity which he laid aside, then of the scene of shame and suffering which he endured, and afterward of the majesty and glory with which he invested the nature in which he suffered. He first de- scended from the throne to the cross ; and then, in order that he might take up our nature with him, and make us partakers of his glory, he carried a portion of that nature from the cross to the throne, ascended into heaven, and from thence gives a portion of the benefit of it by the outpouring of his Spirit, by the preaching of the gospel, and the saving of innumerable multitudes of them that believe; and all this in conso- nance with the purposes of God, whom it became, as the Great Legis- lator, " in bringing many sons unto glory, to make the Captain of their salvation perfect through sufferings." There is only one expression more on which I shall make a remark ; and that is, that it is not said he hecamc a servant, or became a man : all this is implied ; the form of expression is different. Nor is it here asserted that he was God, though this is strongly implied. But it is 348 CHRIST'S PRE-EXISTENCE thus expressed: " Who, benig in the form, of God, took upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men." Though this plainly implies that Jesus Christ was God, yet the form of expres- sion, no doubt, includes something more ; it is intended to express a distinct idea from his being called God ; and it appears to me to cor- respond exactly with the design of the apostle, for his design was to contrast oiir Lord's slate at different times. He had assumed a form under the old dispensation wherein he appeared in various ways, or in different manifestations. When Joshua was about to enter on his war with the Canaanites, he observed a majestic and glorious personage standing over-against him with his sword drawn in his hand ; and Joshua went unto him, and said unto him, " Art thou for us, or for our adversaries ? And he said, Nay, but as Captain of the hosts of the Lord am I come. And Joshua fell on his face to the earth, and did worship, and said unto him. What saith my Lord unto his servant ? And the Captain of the Lord's host said unto Joshua, Loose thy shoe from off thy foot, for the place whereon thou standest is holy." The same command God gave from the burning bush. And in Ezekiel you find, " one in the form of tlie Son of Man seated on a throne," with a sapphire firmament ; and Jesus Christ is represented as distinct from the Father, presenting himself to the Father ; so that he is said by the apostle Paul to have been tempted of the Israelites in the wil- derness. He manifested himself, but he manifested himself in the form of God, with a majesty and glory suited to his work. But he laid aside that form ; he divested himself of it, and took upon him the form of a servant, a human form ; and not merely a human form, but he humbled himself still more, and became obedient unto death. He was found in fashion as a man ; it was a wonderful discovery, an astonishing spectacle in the view of angels, that he who was in the form of God, and adored from eternity, should be made in fashion as a man. But why is it not said that he was a man ? For the same reason that the apostle wishes to dwell upon the appearance of our Saviour, not as excluding the reality, but as exemplifying his condescension. His being in the form of God did not prove that he was not God, but rather that he was God, and entitled to supreme honour. So, his assuming the form of a servant, and being in the likeness of man, does not prove that he was not man, but, on the contrary, includes it; at the same time including a manifestation of himself, agreeably to his design of purchasing the salvation of liis people, and dying for the sins of the world by his sacrilicing himself upon the cross. Besides, there is a peculiar propriety in these terms fashion and likeness of man, though not intended to exclude his proper humanity ; for tliere is a high and glorious distinction in the humanity of Christ as contrasted with every other: every other man is tainted with sin, and partakes of original corruption. Ikit when the angel addressed the Virgin Mary, he said. " That holy thing that shall be born of thee shall be called the Son of God." From that contagion which belongs to the human race he was exempted by a miraculous conception. Every other man possesses two parts, body and spirit ; but this divine man, tliis " God- CONDESCENSION, AND EXALTATION. 349 man," consisted of three component parts, — a soul, a body, and that Eternal Word, or Logos, which formed a part. He is represented as taking upon himself this form, and " being found in fashion as a man," exalted to the adoration of the universe, which beheld the greatest Avonder that ever was exhibited to the world, in Him that was God becoming man ; for, if it be a wonder that God should make man, how much more astonishing that God should becotne man! "Wherefore God also hath highly exalted him, and given him a name that is above every name :" this is the reason. If you ask, how came a portion of human nature thus to be dignified ? how came dust and ashes (for such was a component part of the Saviour) to be placed at the right- hand of God, in the midst of the inaccessible glory ? It was — because in that nature he suffered, that he was humbled and bowed to the cross ; and this was the way in which he ascended to his crown. What an example is this of the force of humility and the efficacy of condescension ; of the wonderful power which, according to the rules and laws of the kingdom of God, condescension, patient sufiering, and lowliness have in raising us to true dignity. This is the way the Saviour ascended to the crown. Be it remembered, " He became obedient." There was, therefore, no necessity to obey at all. But he assumed voluntarily a nature which made him capable of suffering : and he obeyed in that nature even unto death, " the death of the cross ;" in order that he might make it becoming the character of God, as a Moral Governor, to grant par- don to a whole race of apostate and guilty, but believing and penitent, creatures. And yet we are told that Christ is not to be called a Saviour exclu- sively ; we are told that Paul, and Peter, and others shared in the glory of saving mankind. Nay, we are told that all this argument of the apostle in the text, conclusive as it is, both from the words and phrases which are employed, and from the disposition in the mind of Christ which the whole of the reasoning implies, — that all this, instead of proving the pre-existence and divinity of Clrrist, proves nothing of the kind. Indeed, further, the leader of tlie Unitarians in the present day declares, that no words can ever be clear enough to prove to him that Christ is God ; and that if he should find any such words in the Scripture, they would only serve to weaken the evidence of the truth of the Christian revelation, and would not convince him that the state- ment was true. With such men we can have no commimion. Such a spirit shuts up all the avenues to truth and conviction ; nay, it is the height of arrogance and practical infidelity in a creature like man. For it not only leads to error, — dangerous, fatal, destructive error, growing out of a spirit diametrically opposite to that inculcated in the text, — but it goes to the frightful length of setting itself above reve- lation ; of limhing the wisdom of the Infinite Mind ; by affirming that the revealed declarations concerning the incomprehensible God cannot be true : thus subverting the whole foundation of faith. Be careful then, my brethren, that " the same mind be in i/oti which was also in Christ Jesus." If you wish to be great in tJie kingdom of 350 CHRIST'S PRE-EXISTENCE, God, go in the same path. If you wish to possess true dignity, lower yourself. If you wish to reign with him, you must also suffer Avith him : " If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me." We caimot follow the Saviour without pursuing the same path ; we must tread in the same steps : " If any man will come after me, let him take up his cross and follow me ;" and " Where I am, there shall also my servant be ;" for " he that honoureth me, him will my Father honour." This wonderful mystery of our redemption is of the most practical tendency ; not only because it exhibits such affecting views of the evil of sin, and of the price of our redemption, but because it shows the connexion between humility and true dignity. The glory of the cross consists in this — that it is the way to the crown. The Christian reli- gion is distinguished from all others, by turning men's minds from aspiring to dignity here, inducing them to forego their own good, to cast away their lives, to make shipwreck of all but faith, to give up them- selves to God's will entirely, to follow wherever the Saviour leads, and to press into the celestial kingdom through agonies, and crosses, and tor- ments— through every possible obstacle. This is the way the Saviour went, and it is in this way we must expect to be partakers of his glory. "Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus." The time forbids my enlarging upon this subject, by pressing the practical conclusion from it in its different branches ; but I cannot close without urging upon all, " Let the same mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus ;" " Ye know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ." It is one of the first principles of our religion, one of the elementary truths of Christianity, that "He who was rich, for our sakes became poor, that we through his poverty might be made rich." " Let the same mind be in you." — You who are possessed of property, devote that in the way it becomes the servants of so divine a Master. Consider the use he would have made of that portion of this world's good, which he declined as an example of patience and humility. Consider to what purpose he employed his heavenly powers ; and to the same purpose employ your natural advantages and civil resources. When did he employ that word which commanded angels and devils, and subdued the very elements of nature, for the purposes of ostenta- tion? When were his words any thing but spirit and life? When did they operate to any purpose but to communicate health to the dying, purity to the guilty, pardon to the sinful, and salvation and benefits to all around him ? " Let the same mind he in you which was also in Christ Jesus." You possess a portion of this world's good : if j^ou are true Christians, you will consider this as belonging to your Lord, as belonging to the poor of his people, us belonging to the M-orld — to all but yourselves, and will consider all as having a much greater prop- erty in it, morally considered, than yourselves ; you will regard your- selves as the stewards of God, and the most unjust persons (though not amenable to any Imman tribunal, but to your Saviour and your Lord) if you employ them to any other purposes than those of benefi- cence. If you deem it peculiarly honourable to die rich, and to leave CONDESCENSION, AND EXALTATION. 351 estates afterward to your children, to have them " called by your own name," that name will be a name of infamy. No, my brethren, be assured such a mistaken course will cancel your name, will blot it out of the Lamb's book of life for ever. Let then " the same mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus." And those who are elevated in rank, let them not use it merely for the purpose of levying homage from men, of making a vain show, of appearing in artificial splendour. And those who are possessed of influence, let them use it also for the glorv of God, and the good of their fellow-creatures. Never was any one so exalted as our Saviour, and never did any one make such a use of his exaltation. He shrouded it in the deep veil of humanity ; he concealed it from the view of the world. None but the piercing eye of faith, illuminated by the Spirit of God, could behold it. The world knew him not. " We beheld his glory, the glory as of the only- begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth." Do you then, my brethren, employ your influence in that manner. Never make it the means of keeping at a distance from you the poor, the distressed, and the afflicted. " Mind not high things, but condescend to men of low estate." " Look not every man on his own things, but every man also on the things of others." Do not dwell on the contemplation of your own greatness ; do not separate yourselves from your fellow-creatures. Do not suffer yourselves to be hedged in and fenced round from them by the riches of this world ; but communicate them to others, and pray for the blessing of God upon the right use of them, that they mav turn to incorruptible riches and righteousness ; that these perishing riches and this evd mammon may not seduce you from the right way to the everlasting mansions. If you are not faithful over a little, how shall you be faithful over much? and if you are not faithful to that which is the property of God, who lends it to yau for a time, but gives to none a discretionary use of it, how shall he give you " that crown of righteousness that fadeth not away," that glory which will be apart of your nature, which will satisfy your souls, and make you great, and happy, and blessed, to all eternity ? " Let noihing be done," saith the apostle, " through strife or vain- glory ; but in lowliness of mind let each esteem other better than themselves." Let men learn of Jesus Christ that humility which dis- posed him to behave as if he had been the lowest and meanest of all. Our blessed Saviour was not unconscious of his high dignity, but he knew that it was important to exhibit the spirit of his religion in great humility. When he knew that he was shortly to go to his Father, and that " the Father had given all things into his hands, then he took a towel, and girded himself, and washed his disciples' feet." When he was about to take possession of universal empire, and heaven, earth, and hell were to be submitted to him, — when he knew that he vi^as just about to be crowned with immortal glory, after he had sustained the Divine frown for the salvation of men, even ^Hhcji he took a towel, and girded himself, and washed his disciples' feet, saying, Ye call me Master and Lord, and ye say well, for so I am ; if I then, your Lord and Master, have washed your feet, ye ought also to wash one 353 CHRIST'S PRE-EXISTENCE. another's feet," — to condescend to thelowest office of Christian benefi- cence and love. Again : " Let the same mind be in you which Avas also in Christ Jesus," in his entrance into the world : consider with what sympathy he regarded mankind, and what drew him from his exalted seat of majesty on high. How did he look down upon a distant race far removed from him, and compassionate their misery ! how did he, as it Avere, for a season annihilate himself! how did he take their curse upon him, and invest himself with their nature ! He looked upon them widi unutterable and tender compassion : " Let the same mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus." You live among men dead in tres- passes and sins ; you see nations innumerable sitting in darkness and in the shadow of death. Consider what compassion actuated the Saviour's breast in coming down from heaven to pay the price of our redemption, to make peace with God, and bring in everlasting righteous- ness. What compassion touched Ills holy and beneficent mind, in- ducing him to die a sacrifice for the sins of his people ! Do you have the same mind : compassionate the distant and miserable cluldren of men involved in darkness. Carry your eyes to the remotest borders of the earth ; and be not satisfied initil the whole earth is full of the knowledge of the Lord, till all men have seen the salvation of God. Let no distance of place, no diflerence of circumstances, prevent your exerting yourselves to spread the knowledge of Him " who made him- self of no reputation." Let nothing prevent your feeling a participa- tion of the common nature. God has provided for sympathy by making you " of one blood ;" so that you must act contrary to the laws of nature, if you do not sympathize with your fellow-creatures. " Let the same mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus ;" tlien will the religion of Christ extend itself far and wide. Let this mind distin- guish the followers of Christ ; and all men will confess that God is among you of a truth. You will be all of one heart, and one mind : you will be actuated by such a desire as will render you beneficial to all your fellow-creatures, as will make you the " light of the world," and " the salt of the earth." Then would iniquity stop its mouth, and so you would confound infidelity and impiety. Seriously study the doc- trine of the cross, place yourselves there, consider what are the morals of the cross; consider what are the dispositions the cross inculcates; what is the influence of the fact that you are purchased, redeemed, and, by his Spirit, prepared for a seat at the right-hand of God ; what the everlasting advantages which accrue from being purchased by such blood, saved by such humility ; what the doctrines of the Saviour's incarnation, sacrifice, and ascent to heaven inculcate on Christian hearts. It opens a fountain of love, of Monderful and inexhaustible compassion ; and it is at that fountain of love we should study ; for we shall never be truly happy till we dn study the spirit of our religion at the foot of the cross. We should enter more deeply into the dying love of Christ, that we may " comprehend, with all saints, what is the height, and depth, and breadth, and length of that love which passeth knowledge, and be filled with all the fulness of God." THE GLORY OF CHRIST'S KINGDOM. 353 Finally, my brethren, we see here the great and intimate connexion between the practical principles of religion, and the great doctrines of Christianity. Take away the incarnation of our Lord, and his sacri- fice upon the cross, and these sublime and glorious truths lose all their meaning : this great example dwindles into nothing, if we lose sight of Christ's dignity, glory, and humility. It is this which renders his sacrifice of infinite value. It is this which renders his cross so inex- pressibly awful and so interesting. It is this which makes it so in- '^•niteJy precious to his people. The cross of Jesus Christ is the appropriate, the appointed rendezvous of heaven and earth ;* the meeting-place between God and the sinner : thus the principles of the cross become the savour of life unto life, or of death unto death. Deprive Jesus Christ of his dignity, deprive his person of divinity and pre-existence as the Son of God, and all these momentous truths dwindle into inexpressible futilities. Doctrines meant to warm and kindle our hearts fill us with perplexity. When we look for a glo- rious mystery, we find nothing but the obscurity and perplexity that make men rack their invention to find out the meaning of those pas- sages which it is plain the apostle poured forth in a stream of exquisite affection and delight. But " we have not so learned Christ." Hold fast the cross of Christ. You who are not acquainted with the Christian religion, come to Jesus Christ by faith ; cast yourselves upon the dying love of the Saviour ; receive him by faith. And those of you who have received the Saviour, study him more and more ; impress still more and more upon your minds the lessons which Christ crucified teaches. This is the power of God and the wisdom of God unto salvation ; and by means of this only shall we grow up into conformity to our blessed Lord and Saviour ; which God grant of his infinite mercy. Amen. V. THE GLORY OF CHRIST'S KINGDOM. Psalm cxlv. 1 1 . — " They shall speak of the glory of thy kingdom, and talk of thy power."i [preached at KETTERING, IN JUNE, 1813.] The absolute dominion of God is a subject worthy to be celebrated by all creatures : it is the frequent theme of praise in the Scriptures, which were dictated by the Holy Ghost. There is another kingdom, which God has intrusted to tho hands * See p. 85-88. t Printed from the notes of (he Rev. S. HiUyard, of Bedford. For Mr. Hail's o\vn notes, see p. 88-92. Vol. III.— Z 354 THE GLORY OF CHRIST'S KINGDOM. of his well-beloved Son — the mediatorial kingdom of our Lord Jesus Christ. This is the subject of the most exalted praise, and of the most glorious prophecies of the Old Testament, as well as of all the histories, doctrines, and revelations of the New Testament. This is styled the kingdom of heaven, and of Gud : it is the kingdom which the God of heaven has set up among men upon the earth. It is con- trasted Avith the kingdom of the power of darkness ; and its subjects are described as being translated out of the kingdom of darkness, into " the kingdom of God's dear Son,"* which is a kingdom of " mar- vellous light." Whether the Psalm before us is designed, in particular, to celebrate this dispensation of the Son of God, I shall not now inquire ; but as the kingdom of Christ is so conspicuous an object in both Testaments, and is the only one among men by whose government their happiness can be secured, it cannot be improper, from the words before us, to direct your attention, on the present occasion, to some particulars relating to the glory of this kingdom. I. The glorv of this kingdom is manifested in its origin. It had its origin in infinite mercy and grace. It was the object of the divine and eternal purposes of the Father ; an object to which all other pur- poses were subservient. It entered into the counsels of the Eternal before the foundation of the world was laid. It was a grand design, intended to include the reign of God over. the mind of man ; a purpose to establish a kingdom, the subjects of which should be raised to be partakers of the same nature as their sovereign'. In order to establish this kingdom, it was necessary that the Son of God should become incarnate; .the "mighty God" must be a "child born unto us," -that he might have the "government laid upon his shoulders," and be the " Prince of peace" to his redeemed people. God purposed to have his tabernacle among men, and to be their God ; but this he could not do, consistently with his truth and holiness, till an atonement was made to his law iii the dc^aih of the person of his Son. The institution of sacrifices under the law intimated that " with- out the shedding of blood there was no remission;"! their insufficiency evidenced the necessity of a sacrifice of transcendent value : " Then, said he, sacrifices and offerings thou didst not desire ; lo ! I come to do thy will, O God."| Thus the foundation of the kingdom was laid in the incarnation and atonement of the Son of God ; a foundation proportionate to the grandeur and beauty of the edifice that was to be erected. The doctrines of the gospel were, and are, the grand instruments in the hand of the T>ord Jesus for bringing souls into subjection to his sceptre. The King must ride forth conquering and to conquer; all his subjects must be rescued and subdued : but what a battle is that in which he engages ! " Every battle among men is with confused noise, and garments rolled in blood ;" but this is " with burning and with fire." The warfare is entirely spiritual ; it is carried on by the light of truth and the burning of conviction. The mere testimony of * Coloa. i. 13. t Heb. ix. 22. .+ Psalm xl. 6-S. THE GLORY OF CHRIST'S KINGDOM. 355 the gospel, in the mouth of the witnesses, produced eiTeuts more won- derful than any that were ever produced by the violence of the sword ; by this the powers of darkness were shaken, their temples deserted, and their oracles silenced. Heavenly truth combated with sophistry and error, and gained a decisive victory, ihough her opponents were armed with all the persecuting powers of the kingdoms of this world. The Psalmist, foreseeing the contest, said, long since, " Gird thy sword on thy thigh, O most Mighty, and in thy majesty ride on prosperously, because of truth, and meekness, and righteousness."* These have had no share in the extension of human dominion, but were the prin- cipal instruments that were used in the extension of the Kedeeraer's kingdom. To these, in his hand, and by his Spirit, the success of the gospel is to be ascribed : by these his people become a " willing people in the day of his power ;" a conquered, yet a willing people ; led captive, yet obedient. This is a glorious inanner of raising a kingdom, worthy of him who is a Spirit, and who reigns by spiritual and intellectual means in the hearts of his people. Could we trace the means by which God has established his empire, it would fdl our minds with admiration and our lips with praise : then should we "speak of the glory of his kingdom, and talk of his power." II. The glory of the kingdom of Christ is manifested in the manner and spirit of its administration. The last words of David describe the manner of administering this government : — " The anointed of the God of Jacob, and the sweet Psalmist of Israel said. The Spirit of the Lord spake by me, and his word was in my tongue. The God of Israel said, the Rock of Israel spake to me. He that ruleth over men must be just, ruling in the fear of God. And he shall be as the- light of the morning when the sua riseth, even a morning without clouds ; as the tender grass springing out of the earth by clear shining after rain."t The most essential quality in the administration of any government is justice ; and justice is most conspictious in this administration. The Sovereign confers no benefits on his friends, and inflicts no punishments on his enemies, but what are consistent with righteous- ness. " With righteousness shall he judge the poor, and reprove with equity for the meek of the earth : and he shall smite the earth with the rod of his mouth, and with the breath of his lips shall he slay the wicked. And righteousness shall be the girdle of his loins, and faith- fulness the girdle of his reins."| He will render to each of his subjects, not for their works, yet, according to their works. He estab- lishes his holy law as the rule of their conduct, and makes use of such motives to excite them to holy and spiritual obedience as are suitable to their nature, bodt as rational and as fallen creatures. As the law was first employed, so it is still used for conviction, for alarming the consciences even of the redeemed and the regenerate, and to excite to repentance and to renewed exercises of reformation. The administration of this kingdom is also benign and gracious ; it * Psalm xlv. 3, 4. 12 Sam. xxiii. 1-4. } Isaiah xi. 4, 5. Z3 356 THE GLORY OF CHRIST'S KINGDOM. is indeed a kingdom of grace. The throne is a throne of grace, and the sceptre is a sceptre of grace. He revealeth his grace, which is his glory ; and thus he captivates the hearts of his people. He, in his great kindness, invites to him all that are athirst, all that are " weary and heavy-laden,"* and assures them that they shall find rest and refreshment. " He delivers the poor, when he cries, the needy, and him that hath no helper." He is the husband of the widow, and the father of the fatherless in his holy habitation. " When the poor and needy seek water, and there is none, and their tongue faileth for thirst," he graciously says, " I the Lord will hear them, I the God of Israel will not forsake them. I will open rivers in high places, and fountains in the midst of the valleys : I will make the wilderness a pool of water, and the dry land springs of water"! In earthly kingdoms the subjects are governed by general laws, which must necessarily be very inadequate to the variety of cases and occurrences. It is impossible that tlie multiplicity of actions, and all their individual shades, should be at all times considered and distin- guished : hence has arisen the proverb, " Summum jus, summa injuria.'''' But our King is intimately acquainted with all hearts, and, being present in all places, he can apply his acts to individual examples, and appropriate smiles and frowns to each, as if there were no other beings that participated in his attention. In human administrations, the law extends only to outward acts ; it relates only to objects of sense ; insomuch that a pure spirit, disengaged from the body, is free from its sanction : but the kingdom of heaven is a spiritual one — it extends to the heart : it relates not to meats and drinks, but it is a kingdom that is " within you,"! and relates to " righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost."^ It is founded in communion with Christ : by his Spirit Christ lives in his members ; their souls, whether in the body or out of the body, are always in his hands ; he is Lord both of the dead and the living ; he adjusts himself to all cases, through every part of his vast empire. In earthly kingdoms, the utmost that can be done is to lay down rules, to prescribe laws, and to sanction by rewards or penalties ; but .Jesus Christ can write his laws on the hearts of his people. " They are engraven, not on stone, but on fleshly tables."|| He knows how to speak to the heart ; and " they know his voice, and follow him ; but a stranger they will not follow, for they know not the voice of a stranger."]? It is justly considered a high excellence in a ruler, that he is disin- terested, that he pursues no interest of his own, apart from the general good of the empire : this is the very ilower of royalty ; and those who have thus distinguished themselves have been justly considered as the greatest benefactors of mankind ; thoy have been obeyed and loved while they lived, and foolishly idolized and worshipped when they died. But never was any one so disinterested as the King of Zion, who laid down his life for his people, while they were yet enemies. He wields the sceptre of universal dominion : he chains death and * Matt. xi. 28. t Isaiah xli 17, 18. X Luke xvii. 21. ^ Rom. XIV. 17. II a Cor. iii. 3. II John x. 4, 5. THE GLORY OF CHRIST'S KINGDOM. 357 hell, quells the devils, and overrules all things for the good of his church. Though he sits at the right-hand of God, he could not enjoy even that station, were it to continue a solitary one. " Father," says he, " I will that they also whom thou hast given me be with me where I am ; that they may behold my glory."* " I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also."t He blends the deepest condescension with the highest majesty. He is a lion against their enemies, but to them he appears as " a lamb in the midst of the throne." The whole of his history is a history of the sacrifice of selfish feelings. The glory of the Father, and the good of man ; these engaged his heart, these brought him from heaven, these regulated all his actions and sufferings ; and he rested not till he could say, " Father, I have glorified thee on the earth : I have finished the work which thou gavest me to do."| Well may we " speak," then, " of the glory of his kingdom, and talk of his power." TIL The glory of the kingdom of Christ appears in the character of his subjects. The character of a people for greatness and for virtue is part of the glory of any kingdom ; and it must not be omitted here. The Divine Ruler will derive much of his glory from the change that he has wrought in his people. " This people have I formed for myself," sa)'s he ; " they shall show forth my praise."^ As this change is derived from above, there is no foundation for boasting, yet the change si not the less real : it is the communication of the Saviour's image and spirit : and, when he comes, he will be glorified in his saints. I cannot enter largely into a description of the subjects of this kingdom, nor is it necessary ; but a few observations may be made. 1. These subjects are enlightened; they have just conceptions of tilings ; they are delivered out of darkness, which envelopes the rest of mankind, as the children of Israel had light in the land of Goshen when the habitations of the Egyptians were in darkness. They see things as they are : they see them, in some measure, as they are seen by Jesus, the "true Light;" they form right estimates of objects, as they are holy or sinful, temporal or eternal ; they reckon that all worldly treasures and delights are nothing and vanity when compared with the spiritual and everlasting riches and pleasures of Christ and his kingdom. 2. The subjects of this kingdom are renewed : the Spirit of God changes their heart ; they are made imperfectly, yet truly holy ; they have a principle in them that aims at perfection ; their characters are n)ixed, but the best part struggles against the worst, and will finally triumph. It is in this kingdom where patience, purity, humility, faith, and love to God and men, reside. Whatever of true holiness is to be found on earth, here you must find it : " We know that we are of God, and the whole world lieth in wickedness. "|| But these are renewed after the image of God ; there is something divine impressed upon * John xvii. 24. + John xiv. 3. t John xvii. 4. ^ Isaiah xliii. 21. || 1 Jobn v. ig. 358 THE GLORY OF CHRIST'S KINGDOM. their characters ; they have a principle in them that comes from God and leadb to God, and inspires their souls with earnest longings after him. " My soul Iblloweth hard after God."* " Whom have I in heaven but thee ? and there is none upon earth that I desire in com- parison of thee."t They have been reclaimed from their revolt, and are truly loyal; they are "called, chosen, and faithful." From their wanderings they have " returned to the Shepherd and Bishop of their souls ;" tiiey lament that they ever were his enemies, that they ever lived at a distance from him ; and it is now their sincere desire to obey him while they live, and to breathe out their souls in his service. 3. Tlie subjects of this kingdom have in them a preparation for perfect blessedness. They that do not belong to Christ are disquali- fied for heaven, but those that belong to him have the elementary preparation for heaven; they have that which meetens them "to be partakers of the inheritance of the saints in light." . They are not entirely cured, it is true, of all the infection of sin ; the venom of the " old serpent" is not expelled : but they are under a restorative pro- cess ; they are under the method of cure ; they are taking the medicine ■which is of sovereign efficacy. All the love and joy that glow with celestial fervour before the throne of the Heavenly majesty is only the consummation of seeds like those which are sown in the hearts of believers: "Light is sown for the righteous, and gladness for the upright in heart."| They are sown in their hearts : and when that which is sown, or is to be sown, shall be matured, Jesus Christ will present unto himself " a glorious church, not having spot or wrinkle, or any such thing."§ And what a spec- tacle will this be ! how will the saints themselves be astonished at their attainments ! It will require an eternity to know ourselves, much more to know the Fountain whence all these beauties and glories have been derived. Then, indeed, shall we " speak of the glory of his kingdom, and talk of his power." IV. The glory of the kingdom of Christ is manifest in the privileges that are attached to it. The privileges are transecndcntly great, far beyond our comprehen- sion. " Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive what God hath laid up for them that love him ;"|| but the Spirit of God, which searcheth all things, in some measure manifests them to us by his word, and gives us a taste for them in our experience. 1. Pea(;e is a peculiar blessing, of this kingdom. The Ruler is called " The Prince of Peace." Of the increase of his kingdom and peace there shall be no end. This begins in reconciliation with God ; the healing of the great breach which sin has made. With respect to them, the great controversy which has opposed earth to heaven is at an end: they are reconciled, free from condemnation, delivered from that cloud of wrath which overhangs the rest of tlie world ; they are * Psnlm Ixiii. 8. t Psalm Ixxiii. 25. } Tsalm .\cvii. 11. § EpUes. V. 27. || 1 Coi . ii. 9. THE GLORY OF CHRIST'S KINGDOM. 359 justified by faith, and therefore have " peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ." The consequence of peace with God is peace with one another ; a spirit which unites men in a wonderful manner to tlieir fellow-creatures, and especially to their fellow-christians. This, when it is diffused, will produce peace among all families and nations ; it will be an antidote against all the animosities and discords that have prevailed in the world. 2. The dignity of the subjects of this kingdom is another privilege. Is it considered an honour for a king to have a large train of nobles, who can trace their origin through a long line of progenitors 1 Are these the strength of the tlirone 1 What a noble race are the subjects of Christ's kingdom ! To " as many as receive him, he gives the power to become the sons of God."* This is the highest of all titles. Their earthly descent is not noticed ; " it doth not yet appear what they shall be :" but this is their nobility — " Now are ye the sons of God, and if sons, then heirs; heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ." " What manner of love is this which the Father hath be- stowed upon us ?" All these sons shall be advanced to the kingdom ; they shall every one of them be kings and priests unto God, and unite together in ascribing glory, and honour, and praise, and power, unto Him who redeemed them, and conferred this honour upon them." They ^shall have dominion over their sins, over the world, and over Satan, who shall be " bruised under their feet shortly." They will be invested with a holy office, reigning under Christ, and for his service and glory, for ever. 3. Immortality shall be the blessing of this kingdom : the subjects shall partake of endless life ; a life that shall never be extinguished. In the Scriptures we read, " Whosoever believeth in Jesus shall never die. The fathers ate manna in the wilderness, and are, dead ; but he that eateth of the bread that I shall give him shall never die."t He that keepeth the sayings of Christ shall not taste of death. Death, in the Scripture sense, includes that separation from God which begins in spiritual and is completed in eternal death ;| this is that of which believers cannot taste. They receive in them the embryo of eternal life : the spiritual life rises up into life eternal, and will be displayed in its perfection in the world of glory. As, subjects of Christ's king- dom, his servants are immortal ; whatever affects their frail bodies, nothing can separate them from the love of Christ. What an important blessing is the possession of eternal life and the resurrection of the dead ! These terms include everlasting felicity in the presence of God : the privilege is ineffable and invaluable, sur- passing our apprehension, or any comparison that can be made. To enjoy the smallest portion of this blessing is to be superior to all the greatness of the present state : the least in the kingdom of heaven is higher than the most exalted of the rulers and the philosophers of the world. We shall shortly see this to be the true representation of the * John i. 12. t John vi. 58. } Seep. 'J'J-U>2, of "Exegetical Es.says on several Words relating' to Future runisliment," by Professor Stuart, of Andover. United State.s ; 9. work in which philolosjical acumen and rtsearch are finely blended with sound discriminaiiou and a genuine love of truth.— Ec. 360 THE GLORY OF CHRIST'S KINGDOM. subject. Wicked men shall see it to be so, when, between them and the righteous, " there is a great gulf lixed ;" good men will find it to be so, and their spirits will even fail within them, when they behold the order of the court of heaven, and the majesty of the kingdom. These blessings which I have mentioned will not only be put within the reach, but made to be the possession, of the subjects of the king- dom of heaven. The benefits that result from well-regulated governments on earth are generally such as restrain from the pursuits of evil, prevent inter- ference with others, remove obstructions, leave open various avenues to the prosperity of individuals. Each subject must pursue his own course, and make his own fortune ; but in this kingdom, positive bless- ings are conveyed. " The Lord will be to his people a place of broad rivers and streams."* " Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who hath blessed us with all spiritual blessings, and hatli begotten us again to a lively hope, by the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead."t He not only subdues our enemies, but de- livers us from our trials ; while he himself becomes a source of satis- fying good. " My peace I give unto you : not as the world giveth, give I unto you."| " I give unto them eternal life."'^ I might mention some other properties of this kingdom, which, though they do not enter into the essence of it, are very important. It is a growing kingdom. At first it was small, but it had in it an expansive power ; it was " a little stone hewn out of a mountain without hands," but it shall become " a great mountain, and fill all the earth." It has grown, and is growing; "and of its increase there shall be no end."|| " He must increase ; he shall reign until all things are put under him." He goes on " conquering and to conquer :" the last enemy shall be overcome, and be bound to the wheels of his chariot. The Scriptures are much occupied in these things. Prophets thought as much of missions, their labours, and their successes as we do : they employed the most glowing language, and the sublimest strains, in their predictions of the glory of Messiah's kingdom in the latter day ; they snatch from earth and heaven, from the sun, the moon, and stars, the fairest and the grandest images, to represent the state of the church at that desired period ; they levy a tribute upon universal nature, and make all things contribute to illustrate, as they will in reality contribute to advance, this kingdom. This is a subject, then, my brethren, which can never be exhausted ; you may speak of it through eternity ! Open all your hearts, utter the most astonishing eloquence, call forth the host of angels to assist you in celestial songs ; and still fresh views will burst upon your minds : you will appear for ever only to be at the beginning of the theme, only to be standing upon the borders of Immanuel's land : you will be called upon perpetually to rejoice, and again to rejoice, while you " speak of the glory of his kingdom, and talk of his power." * I^^aiah xxxiii. 21. 1 1 Pet. i. 3. t Jokll xiv. 27. ^ Juhii X. 2t5. II Isdidb ix. 7. THE GLORY OF CHRIST'S KINGDOM. 361 In connexion with those qualities which I have mentioned, the per- petuity of this kingdom must endear it, above all things, to a good man : this indeed crowns the whole. It is a perpetual kingdom ; it shall never be removed ; it shall never be taken away to be given to any other people ; but the saints of the Most High shall continually possess it. It shall rise upon the ruins of all other dominions, and shall itself never be subverted. Let us then rejoice at the tokens which we see of God's purpose to extend this kingdom. Our eyes have seen great and wonderful things : God is doing much for his church ; we have advantages beyond any of our predecessors. Such a period as this has not been witnessed since the days of the apostles : all events seem to be pointing to the final issue ; and this should reconcile us to live in a time of desolation. In the midst of the darkness that surrounds us, a bright point is visible that forebodes the dawn of a brighter day. God is overturning, over- turning; but it is to prepare the way for his coming whose right it is, and who shall reign for ever. The kingdoms of this world are changing and falling to ruin. Let us not be dismayed at this ; they are made of changeable materials. We ought not to wonder if the mortal dies, and if the changeable changes ; but ever rejoice that we receive " a kingdom which cannot be moved."* Let us have grace, while we see these things, " to serve the Lord acceptably, with reverence and godly fear. This kingdom, my brethren, will advance in the world when we depart out of it. It is a kingdom, at present, consisting of two parts; there is an upper and a lower province : in the lower province the subjects are required to struggle and fight ; when called hence, they shall triumph. Then shall we know what is meant by the glory of this kingdom, wlien " God shall wipe away all tears from our eyes," and wlien " the Lamb that is in the midst of the throne shall feed us, and lead us to living fountains ol' water ;"t when we shall " rejoice before the throne, and reign for ever and ever."J Let us, while we live here, sincerely pray and labour for the ad- vancement and glorious increase of this kingdom, whicli embraces all the elements of purity and happiness. " This is all our salvation," and sliould be all our desire. Beyond this, there is nothing to be hoped for; without this, there is nothing on earth that can render the pros- pect of death tolerable, or life worth possessing. Finally, then, let us look to ourselves, that, while we hear these things, we may possess a personal interest in this kingdom. " The law and the prophets were until .John :" but now is the kingdom of heaven ; and let every man be pressing into it. Press into it" — strive to enter. Strive as in an agony : " for many shall strive" imperfectly, " and shall not be able." Let it be your determination, by the aid of promised grace, to surmount every difficulty. Press into the kingdom ; for behind thee is the wrath and curse of Almighty God ; but within is a place of safety, of peace, and joy. Put your feet within the limits * Heb. xii. 28. j Rev. vii. 17. J Rev. vu. 9, 15. 362 THE GLORY OF CHRIST'S KINGDOM. of this kingdom, and it will be as one of the cities of refuge to the men that were pursued by the avengers of blood ; and the farther you penetrate, the more will your peace and joy be promoted. To be within this kingdom — how important ! Why are there, then, any of you that are not earnestly seeking it ? If you have not felt a concern about it before, what are your present thoughts ? Is what we have advanced all imagination ? Is it only a fancied empire that has been represented to you 1 Is there such a kingdom among men ? Have you heard of it, have you seen it? And is the Saviour, the Lord of his church, wooing your souls ? Is he asking leave to come in ? Does he say, " Behold, I stand at the door, and knock : if any man hear my voice, and open the' door, I will come in?"* Open then the door, and let the King of glory come in. If he visits you, it is that he may reign in you ; and then he will bless you with his salvation. There is no one wise that does not yield to the Saviour : all are fools who are not either rejoicing in the evidence that they are in this king- dom, or earnestly desirous of it. Be not content that this kingdom should appear before you for a time, and then vanish away for ever ; say not, I shall see it, but not for myself. Oh, thou that art exalted to heaven, take heed lest thou be tlirust down into hell ! ' The king- dom of God indeed is come nigh unto you : it is nigh you in the gos- pel, it is nigh you in the efforts of the present time, it is nigh you in the endeavours of your ministers, it is nigh you in every sermon you hear, and in every ordinance you attend. It is nigh you ; and you will never get quit of this thought : it will be as a sharp arrow that will drink up your spirits to all eternhy. When it is far from you, when between you and the blessed subjects of it " there is a great gulf fixed,"t you will for ever cry, Once it was nigh me ; every Sabbath it was nigh me ; every day it was nigh me ; for montlis and years together it was nigh me ; but I refused it ; I thrust it from me ; I would have none of the Saviour's counsel, I rejected his reproof: and now — it is past ; it is gone ; the things of the kingdom are for ever hidden from my eyes ! Beware, lest that come upon you which is written ; " Behold, ye despisers, and wonder, and perish."| " Kiss the Son, lest he be angry, and ye perish from the way, when his wrath is kindled but a little. Blessed are all they that put their trust in llim."i^ * Rev. iii. 20. 1 I.uke xvi. 26. t Acts xiii. 40, 41. $ Psalm ii. 12. THE INSCRUTABILITY OF GOD'S WAYS. 363 VI. GOD'S WAYS, THOUGH OFTEN INSCRUTABLE, ARE RIGHTEOUS AND JUST.* Psalm xcvii. 2. — Clouds and darkness are round about him : righteous- ness and judgment are the habitation of his throne. [preached at LUTON, MAY, 1815.] This psalm commences with a statement of the most important doctrine of religion ; a doctrine which is the foundation of all serious piety, — the rule and dominion of God over his creatures. It then call's to rejoicing in that great fact. In every time of trouble this is the Christian's consolation; and it is his chief joy in his best moments. He who is " above all" continually conducts die machine of providence, and superintends all things in every part of the universe. This is the unfailing source of comfort to a good man, — " The Lord reigneth, let the earth rejoice." In the text we have a concession made, perfectly consistent with the great truth before propounded : " Clouds and darkness are round about him : rigliteousness and judgment are the habitation of his throne." Two propositions are contained in this text, to which I now propose calling your attention. I. " Clouds and darkness are round about God." II. " Righteousness and judgment are the habitation ^f his throne." I. " Clouds and darkness are round about God." The figurative language in the poetical parts of the Old Testament is frequently taken from the historical books, and refers to the facts therein recorded : thus the appearances of God to the saints and patriarchs in old times are the origin of the figure in our te.xt. If you look at the history of these appearances, you will find they were all accompanied with clouds and darkness. The cloud of the Lord went before the children of Israel when they departed from the land of bondage. This cloud had a dark and a bright side, and was a symbol of the Divine presence : thus it preceded the people in all their marches, as a pillar of fire by night, and of a cloud by day.f When Solomon dedicated the temple, the glory of the Lord filled the house, and the priest could not enter into the house of the Lord, because the glory of the Lord filled the house. J When God descended upon Mount Sinai, "there were thunders and lio-ht- nings, and a thick cloud upon the mount, and the voice of the trumpet ex- ceeding loud. And Mount Sinai was altogether on a smoke, because the Lord descended upon it in fire : and the smoke thereof ascended as the smoke of a furnace, and the whole mount quaked greatly. And the Lord came down upon IVIount Sinai, upon the top of the mount."^ When our * Trir.fe.l from the notes ofllie Hcv. Samuel IliUyard. t Exodus viv. 19, 20. ; 1 Kiiiss vUi. 10, 11. § Exodus .\ix. 1(3, 18, 20. 364 THE INSCRUTABILITY OF GOD'S WAYS. Saviour was transfigured before three of his disciples, " a bright cloud overshadowed them," from which proceeded the voice of the Father, saying, " This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased ; hear ye him."* And Peter, who was present there, afterward referring to this fact, says, that the voice proceeded " from the excellent glory."t Thus, in all the symbols of the Divine presence, there was a mixture of splendour with darkness and obscurity. So it is in the operations of Providence : in a moral and figurative sense we may say, that clouds and darkness surround all the operations of Divine power and wisdom. Clouds are emblems of obscurity; darkness, of distress. The works of God's providence are often obscure and productive of distress to mankind, "though righteousness and judgment are the habitation of his throne." In the present state of the afiairs of the nations, Ave see the inter- ference of Divine Providence ; and yet it is surrounded with clouds and darkness. Never was the hand of God more conspicuous, yet never were men less able to penetrate and comprehend his deep and unfathomable designs. As this is the Divine method of government with respect to affairs of a larger scale, so it is also in instances of a smaller and inferior kind : it is thus, in the removal of the most eminent, holy, and useful characters, that while we acknowledge the hand of God, we say, " clouds and darkness are round about him." Such removals we have experienced : " The fathers, Avhere are they ; and the prophets, do they live for ever?" No. Such as seemed most necessary in the church, the pillars of the temple, are removed, and many are trembling for the ark of God. We are taught to " be still, and know that he is God," since " what we know not now we shall know hereafter :" and we feel it necessary, in our obscurity and distress, to refer to the great principles of his government, " Judgment and righteousness are the habitation of his throne." The course of events has not been such as might have been expected from the known character of God. If we look into the book of history we shall perceive that there is much disorder in earthly scenes, nuich confusion in the afiairs of men ; and was this to be expected from a God of order and wisdom 1 We know that he is a being of infinite mercy, that out of his infinite fulness he loves to communicate hap- piness to his creatures ; yet Ave see them oppressed Aviih calamity, surrounded by miseries ; and Ave find that man has, in all ages and in all stations, been " born to trouble, as the sparks lly upward." Again, Ave know that God, in liis great love to our Avorld, has devised a plan to raise men to happiness and glory ; his regard to this plan, and the objects of it, appears in all the doctrines of revelation, in all the miracles by wliich they are supported, and in all the prophecies and glorious things that are spoken concerning the church, by Avhich our expectations have been greatly raised. But how haA'e those * Matt. xvii. 5. t 2 Peter i. 17. THE INSCRUTABILITY OF GOD'S WAYS. 365 expectations fallen short of their accomplishment ; what a small part of the world is enlightened by the beams of the " Sun of Righteousness ;" how narrow are the limits of the gospel ; how little has been done by Christianity, compared with what might have been anticipated from the Divine principles, the character of the Author, and from the interest it possesses in the heart of God. We have, as yet, wrought almost no deliverance in the earth ; paganism yet strikes deep its roots in various lands ; Mahoraetanism has plucked up the " good seed of the kingdom" in countries where that seed brought forth fruit abundantly : even in what is called Christendom, how little have the known and blessed elfects of tiie gospel been manifested ! Jesus Christ came to reconcile all who receive him into one family ; to make, of many, one body ; to compose discords, to allay violent passions and animosities, to make wars to cease, and to give peace, and love, and harmony to his followers ; but those called Christians have been inflamed and armed against each other. From the beginning, dangerous errors have produced noxious effects ; the " mystery of iniquity" began to work ; those who " named the name of Christ" have inflicted greater barbarities upon one another, under the influence of superstition and bigotry, than their fathers had suflered from their pagan persecutors. The woman that " sat upon the scarlet-coloured beast" is indeed " full of names of blasphemy, having seven heads and ten horns ;" she is still arrayed in " purple and scarlet, and decked with gold and precious stones, and pearls, having a golden cup in her hand full of abomination and fllthiness and Ibrnication ; and upon her forehead was a name written, Mystery, Babylon the Great, the Mother of Harlots and Abominations of the Earth. And I saw," says the apostle, " the woman drunken with the blood of the saints, and with the blood of the martyrs of Jesus ; and when I saw her, I wondered with great admiration."* And what could be less expected, what more surprising, than that Christianity should occasion the discovery of so much vileness 1 Nay, where genuine Christianity is taught, how small has been its progress ! how few seem to be converted to God, compared with those who are enemies in heart to him, and to the kingdom to which they profess to belong ! Instead of Christians being of one heart and of one mind, they are armed with malice and envy against each other, on account of some differences of sentiment and judgment ; even persons of real piety give way to prejudice and party zeal, which prevent, in a great measure, tlie operation and effect of pure Christianity. Thus this blessed system of rehgion seems to have been the occasion of more feuds and strifes among its professors than any other interest has pro- duced since the world began. Look at the state of the world ; see nations professing the name of Christ rushing into hostilities, building all their hopes of future peace upon the success of their plans of bloodshed and (damage, breathing defiance and slaughter in their words, and displaying them in their enraged countenances. When will the end of these things be ? Were it not for the sure word of prophecy, * Rev. xvii. 4-6. 366 THE INSCRUTABILITY OF GOD'S WAYS. we might be ready to imagine " God had made all men in vain." A great part of the world is no belter than if Christ had never come to save mankind, and the gospel had never been proclaimed. Some who hear it are even tlie worse for what they hear ; for where it is not " a savour of life unto life," it is " a savour of death unto death." I might expatiate still more on this portion of the text ; but sufficient has been said to prove that things have not been according lo expecta- tions founded on tlie known character of God, but that " clouds and darkness are round about him." We proceed then to the second class of remarks, suggested by the passage before us. II. "Judgment and righteousness are the habitation of his throne." Righteousness is the essential perfection of the Divine Being. It is his nature ; if there had been no creatures for him to govern, he would have had an unchangeable and invincible love of Tcctitude. •Judgment is the application of the principle of righteousness in his government of his creatures and their actions ; it is a development of his rectitude in the management of the affairs of his great empire ; it is that superintendence over all, whereby the operations of all things are directed to some vast and important end. Judgment implies measure and equity, in opposition to what is done without rule and con- sideration. All the Divine conduct is equitable, regulated by rectitude, and every thing is directed b)' a judgment that cannot err. Thus " Righteousness and judgment are the habitation of his throne." The throne of God is built, and stands firm upon these principles : they are the place, the basis, and the foundation of his throne. Though the clouds cannot be dispelled, though there is thick darkness round about, through which our eyes cannot penetrate ; yet there are princi- ples discernible through the light of revelation, and by the eye of faith, which may serve to subdue despondency, and lead us to acquiesce in all the measures of the righteous Sovereign. Though much obscurity must be attached to the government of the Infinite Mind, and great per- plexities may be felt by those who attempt to scan his measures ; yet some considerations may be suggested, which will serve to quell our anxieties and afford us repose under all the darkness, beneath hi.s pro- tecting power, his all-directing wisdom, and his paternal goodness. 1. Let us ever remember that the dispensations of God towards man are regulated by the consideration of his being a fallen and dis- ordered creature. If we do not admit, or if we forget this, we are in great danger of falling into universal skepticism, and shall not be able to conclude, that " verily there is a God that judgeth in the earth." If man is now in the state in which he was originally created, all is ob- scurity and gross darkness ; but if we understand that man is a crea- ture who, by his own fault, has lost that iavour with God which he once enjoyed, and yet is placed under a dispensation of mercy ; frowned upon, but not given up lo destruction ; open to receive the grace of God under the gospel, and by the mediation of Jesus Christ ; there is some light shooting through the darkness, by Mhich we seethe " righteousness and judgment" which are the habitation of his throne." THE INSCRUTABILITY OF GOD'S WAYS. 367 The fallen state of man must be kept in view to account for the severities in the Divine dealings with him. His banishment from para- dise ; the curse of the ground, by which it brings forth thorns and briers, and the sweat of the brow by which he eats his bread ; the labour and sorrow of the woman in child-bearing ; and, finally, the sentence of death which is passed upon man, and keeps him always in bondage ; and the present state of society, the fraud, rapine, cruelty, lust, and contention, — are all accounted for only by reverting to the fall of man from the image and fiivour ,of God. Yet, notwithstanding the severities of God, let it not be forgotten that there are mixtures of mercy which we have reason to admire. They that have forfeited all right to happiness must not complain if any drops of it are found in their cup. They that have lost the inheritance must not complain if any of its fruits are atlbrded to them. They that deserve to be banished into outer darkness must not complain if " clouds and darkness are round about Him" whom they have offended. "Why should a hving man complain, a man for the punishment of his sins ?"* They that deny the depravity of human nature are involved in per- plexity, and speak on the subject of Divine government with such doubt, confusion, and perplexity, as increases skepticism in themselves, while it too often produces it in their admirers. The doctrine of the fall of man must be considered as a fact : to a knowledge of this the Scripture conducts ; it relates the circumstances of the original transgression ; expressly asserts that " God made man upright, but he hath sought out many inventions ;"t and that " by one man judgment passed upon all men to condenjnation."| 2. The Divine Being was not bound, in justice, either to prevent the disordered state of man, or to correct it when it had taken place. All moral government has its foundation in the suitability of its laws and motives to regulate and influence a creature endued with rea- son, understanding, and volition. All that is necessary in the govern- ment of such a creature as man is that the law should be equitable, and that man should be originally possessed of faculties which ren- dered him capable of obedience. Were we to go further, and suppose that the Governor was obliged to see his law fulfilled, this would make him accountable to his own law, while the accountability of the crea- ture would be destroyed. If the creature, besides having a I'ighteous law and powers capable of obedience, must also be kept from the pos- sibility of disobeying, the rule would return back, and become binding upon him that gave rather than upon him that received it. Though I feel incompetent to go far into this subject, yet, from what we know of the nature of God and of man, it may be safely affirmed that it can- not be required of the Divine Governor to secure the obedience of his creatures, any further than the law, as a motive, is calculated to have an effect upon rational minds. On what ground, then, can it be imagined that the world has a right to rccjuire God to prevent or to remedy moral evil ? 3. The whole of those evils that form clouds and darkness round * Lam. iii. 39. t Eccles vii 59. t Rom. v. 18. 368 THE INSCRUTABILITY OF GOD'S WAYS. about God are either the penal or natural effects of moral evil. The terrors of conscience, the fears of death, restlessness and dissatisfac- tion of mind, — these and numerous other evils are partly the natural and partly the penal consequence of sin; and show that man is not in the state in which he was originally created, but is reduced by his dis- obedience to a state in which all things are " vanity and vexation of spirit." With respect to evils of a physical nature, most of them are evi- dent consequences of the state of man as a sinner. What is war, strife, contention, but the effect of evil passions ; the natural fruits of apostacy ? These are the actions and workings of the evil mind, malice, envy, pride, and covetousness. The sentiment of love, which unites to God, being broken, what effects can be produced but dissen- sion and disorder — domestic, national, and universal ! There is, indeed, less disorder and confusion than might be expected from the universality of the apostacy ; the wisdom and goodness of God having checked a great proportion of the evil that would have proceeded from the corrupt fountain of our depravity. We can never sufficiently ad- mire the wisdom and goodness of God for such institutions as preserve a tolerable degree of order in this fallen world. Many benefits result from those checks and restraints which are imposed upon men, even when the heart is not renewed. But still further. God has established another kingdom in the midst of the kingdoms of the world. He has created a new race among the race of men ; the men who are the " salt of the earth," and the " light of the world." They prevent that universal corruption which would work its ruin, and that darkness which would tend to destruction. Yet there is much darkness and corruption remaining : and if you ask how long it will continue, the prophet answers, " Until the Spirit be poured on us from on high ;"* that is, the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ. This is the only thing which can correct the evils that prevail among mankind. This grace is not conferred by the Divine Being in the character of a governor, but as the fruit of his favour : it is, however, the only cure ; and hence, the most intense desires should possess our minds for the promotion of the gospel ; not only that God may be glorified in the highest, but that on earth there may be peace and good-will among men. 4. Those that receive the grace of Jesus Christ are still in such a situation as renders a great part of their trials and miseries necessary. Many of the evils of a depraved nature still remain, and need to be subdued and removed. Pride must be abased ; " covetousness, which is idolatry," abhorred ; impurities cleansed ; and malevolent passions conquered. This is a state of probation ; and it is repugnant to reason to talk of a state of probation in which nothing is met with that is dark and painful. Besides, tlic virtues of the Christian must be perfected in the same Avay in whicli the Captain of our salvation was perfected : he must be conformed to Christ, and have fellowship with him in his * Isaiah xxiii.l5. THE INSCRUTABILITY OF GOD'S V/AYS. 369 sufferings. Jesus Christ is set forth as a type of all the happiness that accrues from suffering, from struggling, and from conquering ; and we must resemble him in this respect. To this purpose our present state is adapted ; every thing is so contrived as to afford opportunities of conquest. The pleasures of the world, the crosses of life, tlie remains of concupiscence, the venom of the "old serpent," and the insults, if not persecutions, of the wicked, are enemies by ■which we are beset ; and we recover from their assaults, and overcome by the exercise of prayer, vigilance, and persevering struggles. " There is no discharge in this warfare," — we must conquer or die. God will confer no distinction (I will not say, but where it is deserved) but only where it may be given as a recompense for service. The design of Christ is to raise his people to glory, to communicate to them the fulness of God ; but as he obtained these blessings by his death, as he purchased them by his blood, so in the same path he leads on his people to his glory. Thus he makes all our afflictions and enemies preparatives to our victory and triumph. Tlie Divine Being will dis- play his infinite wisdom in leading his people through the wilderness : and they shall walk " in white,'' with " palms in their hands," and crowns on their heads, who " come up out of great tribulation."* 5. The moral evils of man, and the depravity of human nature, are often, in a great measure, corrected and subdued by the natural evils of life, and thus are made the means of conducting to repentance, reformation, and happiness. The Spirit is not generally given to lead the soul to God and the enjoyment of a life of faith, without being preceded by affliction and troubles. He leads into the wilderness, and then speaks kindly unto man ; he destroys our idols, hedges up our way, surrounds us with difficulties, and pleads with us. Thus he deals with individuals, and thus also with nations at large. " When his judgments are abroad in the earth, the inhabitants thereof learn right- eousness." The overflowing of a corrupt opulence, the abundance of prosperity, feeds as in a hotbed, all the bad passions of the heart. The sword, pestilence, povert}-, pain, and innumerable other evils excite us to deep and serious reflection, and thus prepare us, by the influence of the gospel, and the operation of grace, to return to God. A sense of a superior hand is felt ; the vanity of the world is dis- covered ; the soul looks out for something on which to rest, and is prepared to hear the voice that says, " Look unto me, and be ye saved." I doubt not but the cloud now gathering, and the judgments ~ now about to descend, will be the means of casting down high thoughts, and " humbling the lofty looks of man, that the Lord alone may be exalted," and that the world maybe filled with his glory. One temple of the Holy Ghost is of more esteem in his sight than all the splen- dour of palaces, than all the riches of the world. Jesus Christ is overthrowing all the grandeur of man, that he may gather out of ruinous heaps, and from a perishing world, the materials of an imperish- able temple. He is taking out of every nation a people whom he will * Rev. vii. 9, 14. Vol. III.— a a 370 THE INSCRUTABILITY OF GOD'S WAYS. form for his praise. In his providence he is subverting, scattering, destroying, in order that he may find stones to polish for a temple into which he will enter, into which his Father will enter, and where they will abide. This is the one great end the King of Righteousness has in view. The preparatory scenes of the world are as a " valley full of bones, very many and very dry ;"* but the Spirit of the Lord shall raise out of them a people upon whom he will breathe, and they shall live, and become a glorious army, animated by the heavenly grace. How is it possible, if we see things only with carnal eyes, that we should see them as God sees them, who directs all things with a view to an eternal state of being? Our "light affliction" may work for us a " far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory ; while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen : for the things that are seen are temporal ; but the things that are not seen are eternal."! It is only by looking at " things unseen and eter- nal" that we can derive true benefit from the miseries of life. Under the hand of God every thing is propelled, every thing temporal is rushing forward to give way to, or to be united with, that M'hich is eternal. This is the development of the whole plan, the explication of all the complicated movements of providence. Look at the things which are eternal : there is the state to v.'hich we are tending, where we shall know in perfection what we now know only in part, and shall be satisfied that all has been conducted agreeably to the known char- acter of God. 6. Yet, let it be observed, even here the light of prophecy dispels many of those clouds which would otherwise obscure, for the present, the government and the throne of the Deity. We are assured that in the latter day the gospel will be more widely disseminated, that its influence will be more extensive and efficacious, that the superstitious prejudices and vices by which it has been so long opposed will give way ; that the desert and the wilderness shall become a fruitful field, and " shall blossom as the rose ;";[ that all the kingdoms of the earth shall bring their riches and glory into the church, the whole earth shall be full of the glory of the Lord, and there shall be peace unto the ends of the earth. At what period this glory of the latter day will commence is not for us to determine ; it is generally agreed the time draws near ; how long it will last is, again, not easy to tell. The thousand years are perhaps to be calculated upon the same scale as other prophecies, wherein a day stands for a year, which would make them more than three hundred and sixty thousand years. Be this as it may, at that period the Spirit will be poured down from on high ; the potsherds of the earth that have been striving will be dashed to pieces ; the great Proprietor will come to fasiiion them anew : then " the fruitful field will be as a forest," and the forest " as the garden of God ;"^ none shall destroy in all God's holy mountain ; the sacred influence of piety will bring us back to a paradisaical state ; the love, the harmony, the plenty which will abound will fill every heart with * Eiek. xxxvii. 1-14. t 2 Cor. iv. 17, 18. i Isaiab xxxv. 1. ^ Isaiah xxxii. 15; U. 3. THE INSCRUTABILITY OF GOD'S WAYS. 37I gladness; the temple of God shall be among men,. the marriage of the Lamb will come ; and the universal song will be, " Hallelujah : for the Lord God omnipotent reigneth !"* If this period shall continue long, the miseries that once reigned will be forgotten, and all the disorder that was introduced by the fall will be as nothing, when compared with the joy of the restoration ; the creation of a " new heaven and a new earth, wherein righteous- ness shall reign." " Behold, the coming of the Lord draweth nigh ; but who can abide the day of his coming ?" He will come with his " fan in his hand." " He will sit like a refiner of silver." The chafl" will be separated from the wheat ; the visitations of the Almighty will find out his ene- mies ; the phials of his indignation will be poured out upon the oppo- sers of the gospel ; wrath will come upon them in this world, prepara- tory to that of the eternal state. Let us " flee from the wrath to come." Let us consider the salvation of the soul to be the one thing needful. The body is only the tenement in which the soul is lodged, the case in which it is enclosed ; the soul is all-important ; " the redemption of it is precious ;" " What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul ; or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul ?"t The gospel is the only refuge to which we can flee. It presents Christ crucified among you, shedding his blood as an atonement for your sin, willing to " save to the uttermost all who come unto God by him." O my friends, accept his grace ; break ofi' from every sin ; ask yourselves in what you have offended ; set your sins in order before you ; remembering that if you do not, Christ will do it at the great day. Judge yourselves now, that you may not hereafter be judged, and sent to condemnation. Turn with humble penitence to the cross of Christ, and approach God by him ; bend your knee before the throne of grace, plead the merits of the Redeemer's blood, and be " reconciled by his death." May God grant you these blessings for the sake of his Son. Amen. * Rev. xuc. 6. t Mark viii. 36, 37. A a2 372 DISCOURAGEMENTS OF PIOUS MEN. VII. ON THE DISCOURAGEMENTS OF PIOUS MEN.* Numbers xxL 4. — And the soul of the people icas much discouraged because of the way. [PEEACHED AT BEDFORD, MAY, 1815.] It is generally understood and believed that the Old Testament is in great part typical. The hisiory of the deliverance of Israel is a type of redemption by Jesus Christ ; the paschal lamb a type of the great Passover. The journey of the people through ihe wilderness repre- sented our pilgrimage through this world ; and the land of Canaan was a shadow of the heavenly rest. Viewed in this light, many parts afford direction and consolation peculiarly suited to individual experience. I shall take leave to accommodate this passage as an expression of Avhat frequently befalls the people of God in this world ; their " souls are greatly discouraged, because of the way." The present life is a way ; it is not the end of our being : it is not our rest, it is not our abode ; but the place of our pilgrimage, a pas- sage to eternity. There are two ways, — the way to heaven, marked out by the example of Christ, and the way to perdition, marked out by an evil world. But there are many discouragements that the Christian meets with, though he is in the way to heaven. These we shall point out in the first place, and then direct you to some considerations to remove these dis- couragements. I. I shall point out the discouragements in the way ; and in doing this I shall keep my eye on the pilgrimage of the people who were originally referred to in the text. I. The way is circuitous, and therefore discouraging. This is sug- gested in the beginning of this verse: "And they journeyed from Mount Hor, by the way of the Red Sea, to compass the land of Edom ;" tliey took a way which was round about, which added to the tediousness of their journey. Their nearest route would have made it comparatively easy ; but instead of taking this, they went up and down in the wilderness. When we consider what God had done for this people in Egypt, it might have been expected that all the way would have been prosperous ; that joy would have been heard in their tents, and triumph attended their march ; and it would have been seen that they were the people of God by the blessings which they enjoyed ; but instead of this they met with delays, hinder- ances, and troubles, till they murmured against Moses and Aaron, saying, " Why were we brought out hither ? Would to God we had * Primed from the notes of the Rev. Samuel HiUyard. DISCOURAGEMENTS OF PIOUS MEN. 373 died by the hand of the Lord in Egypt."* Thus, souls that are brought to Jesus, and dehvered from the slavery of sin and the curse of the law, in their first ardour overlook trials, and think of nothing but enjoyments; they do not anticipate the fightings and fears that are the portion of God's Israel. After a lime, through want of watchful- ness and care, the love of their espousals begins to decline, the world regains a degree of influence, the Spirit is grieved, and they fear God has become their enemy : they seem to themselves to go backward, and indeed are in danger of doing so, if they neglect to watch and pray ; and much time is spent in mourning, retracing, and recovering the ground that has been lost. This is too common a course : there is provision made for something better ; there are promises and comforts which should encourage us to advance from strength to strength ; but through our neglects we feel that we go backward instead of forward, and are therefore discouraged. 2. The way is through a wilderness, and is therefore discouraging. Moses reminded Israel of this in Deuteronomy: "You remember how you went through the wilderness, a waste land, not sown or tilled, where there was no trace of human footsteps, and where no man dwelled." A wilderness is distinguished by the absence of necessary sustenance : there was no corn, nor vine, nor olive ; nothing to sustain life. Thus this world is a state of great privations ; men are often literally straitened with poverty, penury, and sorrow, and know not how to conduct themselves in their difficulties : the supplies which they once had may be exhausted ; and tliough they have seen the hand of God in affording them what was necessary on former occasions, they are ready to say. Though the rock has supplied us, and the manna has descended, yet " can God spread a table for us in the wilderness ?" With respect to the blessings of this life they live by faith, and fre- quently have no provision or prospect for futurity. But in a spiritual sense this world is also a wilderness. It has no natural tendency to nourish the spiritual life ; nothing is derived from it of that kind : thougli spiritual blessings are enjoyed in it, the Chris- tian knows they are not the produce of the soil ; the " bread" which he eats " comelh down from heaven ;" the perpetual exhibition and communication of that one bread is all his support. Jesus Christ says, " I am the Bread of life. Your fathers did eat manna in the wilder- ness, and are dead ; but he that eateth of this bread shall never die. My flesh is meat indeed, and my blood is drink indeed."! The ordi- nances of the gospel do not support and comfort us any further than there is a heavenly communication and influence attending them. This is not peculiar to the poor : the rich, who abound in worldly things, feel that this is a wilderness to their souls ; they feel that there is something to which earthly treasures are not suited ; wants which they cannot supply. The same bread that feeds the poor must feed them, or they will be lean from day to day : on this they depend as much as the meanest around them. David felt this when he said, '* I stretch forth my hands unto thee : my soul thirsteth after thee, as a * Exod. xvi. 3. t John vi. 48-50, 55. 374 MSCOURAGEMENTS OF PIOUS MEN. thirsty land."* " As the liart panteth after the water-brooks, so pant- eth my soul after thee, 0 God. When shall I come and appear before God ?"t "Deliver me from the men of this world, who have their portion in this life." " Then shall I be satisfied when I awake in thy likeness."! There was nothing on earth to satisfy him ; he felt the present world to be a wilderness, because it was a state of absence from the Divine presence. The Christian is a child of promise and of hope, and his eye is directed to the " glory that shall be revealed." Again : there is much intricacy in the Christian's pilgrimage. There were no paths in the wilderness ; the Israelites could not have explored their way but by the direction of the pillar of fire and of the cloud : so the Christian knows not how to explore his path. There are doctrinal difficulties by which we are perplexed, and errors to which we are continually exposed, and which we know not how to escape but by attention to " the light that shineth in a dark place." There are voices that are heard in the wilderness, crying, " Lo here," and " Lo there ;" but we nmst not go after them : we must " search the Scriptures,"^ and ask the guidance of the Spirit, or we shall never have the comfort that arises from right views of truth, nor hear the " voice behind us saying. This is the way, walk ye in it." I need not mention the various errors of the present day ; but simply specify the two chief, which are, such a view of the doctrines of grace as destroys the necessity of holi- ness, and such a view of the Saviour as destroys the notion of grace. There are also many difficulties in practical religion ; and thus we are again in danger of mistake. What shall we do to serve and please God 1 The general rules of Scripture are sufficient, if studied with an humble mind, for general direction ; but they do not furnish us with immediate and particular directions in all cases.: diligent inquiry is necessary, attending to the voice of conscience, giving up sensual desires and inclinations, and rejecting temptations presented in various forms. There is only one grand remedy, if wc would walk aright : " If any man lack wisdom, let him ask of God, who giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not ; and it shall be given him."|| 3. 'I'he way lies through a hostile country, and is therefore dis- couraging. We pass through an enemy's land. The Israelites went up in military array, marching in file ; and they had not proceeded far before the kings of Edom and Moab, and the Ammonite, opposed them. They were obliged to unite the courage of the military with the assiduity of the pilgrim's life ; they had to fight as well as travel. And so must we : on our pilgrimage we must gird on " the whole armour of God, taking the sword of the Spirit, and the shield of faith ;"F we must conquer as well as advance ; we must fight our way, or die. There are three great enemies — the fiesh, the world, and the devil : these are allied, have perfect understanding with each other against us, and combine their efforts for our destruction. The Christian pil- grim becomes a marked character in the world ; he dwells alone : the men around him take the alarm ; they endeavour to imbitter his choice * Psalm cxliii. 6. t Psalm xlii. 1, 2. t Psalm xvii. 15. $ John V. 39. y James i. 5. If Ephee. vi. 13-17. DISCOURAGEMENTS OF PIOUS MEN. 375 and retard his progress. Satan is also alarmed, and he is never found to give up a subject without opposition. A man going on in a carnal course will scarcely believe in Satan's temptations ; he regards it as mere enthusiasm to think or speak of them ; he has not felt them, and will not think they can be felt : but the Christian soon learns that he has to fight against " principalities and powers, and spiritual wickedness." He finds his enemy assault him in various ways, and knows that he "must be resisted that ho may fly from us ;"* for " he goeth about like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour."! The flesh is also an enemy. The Chris- tian experiences the workings of carnality, a hankering after that which is evil, and to which he may have been addicted ; as the Israel- ites after " the onions and garlic of Egypt." There is a tendency towards earth, as well as towards heaven ; a principle that depresses and bends him downwards, as well as one that elevates and prompts him to soar above : he is forced to complain of " cleaving to the dust," and cannot always say, " My soul folio weth hard after God." " There is a law in the members warring against the law of his mind."| He complains of " an evil heart of unbelief" There is in him an army with two banners ; " the flesh lusting against the spirit, and the spirit against the flesh :"^ this renders it necessary that our life should be a continual struggle. These conflicts belong to every condition. Those that have most of the world are often most exposed, and are seldom less exempt than others from assaults ; and no wonder that hereby Christians are often discouraged, especially when they feel they do not always succeed. Even when they are not vanquished, they some- times lose ground ; and when they have overcome, they are afraid of fresh conflicts, in which their strength may fail, and their enemies gain the advantage. 4. The false steps that are taken in the pilgrimage, and the conse- quent displeasure of God, are discouraging: there are so many errors and iniquities for which the Lord chastens his people, though he par- dons sin as to its eternal consequences. How often did the children of Israel oflend God and awaken his anger? and where is the son whom the Lord does not see fit to chasten ? These chastenings of the Lord often drink up the spirit ; they overwhelm the soul. " All thy waves and billows are gone over me."|| They think of God, and are afraid. They cry, " Oh, be not a terror unto me,"lP lest I sufier thy frown and be distracted. The bitter herbs are unpalatable ; the fears of hell seize hold of them as terribly as when they were first awakened to a sense of sin and danger ; they feel their frailty and tendency to depart from God ; and they apprehend future trials, and know not how long the painful dispensation will continue. " Is his mercy clean gone for ever ; doth his promise fail for evermore ?"** 5. Total defection of men from the path is a great discouragement to those who still continue in the way. I do not think that all who * Jaraes iv. 7. 1 1 Pet. v. 8. i Rom. vii. 23. $ Gal. V. 17. II Psalm xlii. 7. IT Jer. xvii. 17. •* Psalm Ixxyii. 8. 376 DISCOURAGEMENTS OF PIOUS MEN. ■died in the wilderness were cut off as rebels ; indeed it could not be, for Moses and Aaron were of the number : yet they were set forth as types to warn us of the danger of not entering into rest. Here was a shadow of the greater loss of them that " turn back to perdition." How many can we recollect of those who were once active and zealous in the cause of God, that have gone away and walked no more with Christ, of wlioni we say, " It would have been better for them not to have known the way of righteousness, than, after they had known it,"* " to turn again to the beggarly elements of this world !"t Providence sets a mark upon such persons : their idols are snatched from them, and they become as pillars of salt to remind us of the danger of looking behind us. What deep searchings of heart are hereby occasioned ! " 1 also shall fall by the hand of" the enemy ; I have in me a similar nature with his, and may be exposed to similar temptations. " Lord, hold me up," or I shall not be safe. Nothing weakens the confidence of the Christian army more than the failure of those who appeared brave in the day of battle, and conspicuous in the ranks. When ministers and eminent professors fall away, our hands hang down ; we suspect others ; we are jealous of ourselves. "Search me, O God, and try me, and see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting."^ " Every one must give an account of himself to God,"§ and " let every one have rejoicing in himself, and not in another."|| 6. The leiigtk of the way is discouraging. The time occupied by the Israelites from their entering to their leaving the wilderness was forty years. Thus long were Caleb and Joshua in travelling through it. This was a tedious journey ; such a one as was never performed before: a type of the journeys of the Church militant. The whole of human life, with all its toils and cares, is comprehended in this journey; there is no rest, no cessation of the pilgrim state, till life is finished. " Be thou faithful unto death," or all thy former toil is lost and will be of no avail. Now though human life is short in itself, yet to our limited conception it appears long ; especially when passed in suffering and pain, " when the clouds return after the rain," and there is none to tell us " how long." In protracted afflictions is seen the patience of the saints. It is more easy to endure the greatest shocks of trouble, than to endure those pains which are more moderate for a long season. Patience is worn away by continued afflictions, rather than overwhelmed by the rolling wave. Those saints, who endure in private, though unknown, and perhaps unnoticed by their neighbours, are the bravest heroes of the Christian camp. We must, my brethren, hold out unto the end. We must touch the goal, or we run in vain ; our last effort must be made in this journey, or we shall never reach the Canaan that lieth beyond the waters of the grave. Thus I have given you a serious representation of difficulties and * 2 Pet. ii. 21. t Gal. W. 9. % Psalm cxxxix. 23, 24.