®HmSrwim& tyffijRlifftipfii WO RKS OP BPBCIAl EDITION OF I'm: BUMDEKD COFIXfi, FOB I'kksKNTATION TO TlTEOLOGIC W. SeMIN ARIKS. (Ellis Oolamc is JJrcscntcb to Theological Seminary HORACE r. CLARK ksd FREDERICK Q. CLARE. JTew York, October 1st, 1 Srom f6e &i6rarg of (profeeeor HEtfFiam JE)cnr2 reen m QSequeaffleo 6g 0im fo f0e fctfirarp of gprinccton £6cofo$tcaf ^emtnarg S^~ r <^ g^er THE WORKS OF / REV. DANIEL A. CLARK. EDITED BY HIS SOX, KEY. FREDERICK G. CLARK, D. D. WITH A BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH AND AN ESTIMATE OF HIS POWEKS AS A PREACHER, BY Kev. GEOKGE SHEPAED, D. D., LATE PROFESSOR OP SACRED RHETORIC, BANGOR THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY. COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME. SEVENTH EDITION. NEW YORK: IVISON, BLAKEMAN, TAYLOR & CO., No. 138 & 140 GRAND ST RE El. 1872. Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1812, by J. HENRY CLARK, M.D., in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States. f»r the Southern District of New-YorK. THIS PAGE IS IN AFFECTIONATE REMEMBRANCE OP JAMES HENRY CLARK, M.D., ELDEST SON OP Rev. DANIEL A. CLARK: INSPIRED BY FILIAL LOVE AND PRIDE, HE EDITED THE PREVIOUS EDITIONS OP THIS WORE, AND WAS CALLED FROM EARTH MARCH 6th, 186 9, IN THE FIFTY-FIFTH YEAR OF HIS AGE. EDITORIAL NOTE. It is not far from fifty years since some of these sermons were first pub- lished. They were recei ved at that time, as ever since, with marked appre- ciation. It is notable what slight effect half a century produces in the esti- mate of writing's charged with thought and fervor. These volumes have passed through many editions, neither of which was less welcomed by the public than its predecessor. Owing to the protracted illness and death of the original editor, my brother, James Henry Clark, M. D., this work has been a long time out of print. Inquiries for it have nevertheless continued to be made, and orders have come from distant places in this country and in Europe. It is believed that these Sermons have yet an important mission to fulfill, in the hands of theological students as well as of general reader?. They afford a wholesome contrast to the sensational mania of the pulpit. They also encourage young preachers to rely on what Professor Shepard calls the " clear, straight, and strong," rather than upon the questionable expedients of modern popularity. My brother, Hon. Horace F. Clark, who owns the stereotyped plates, has placed them at my service for this new edition : it being our aim to keep alive our father's influence, not only by offering this work anew to the pub- lic, but by an arrangement to donate copies to the students in several of our theological seminaries. The Christian public, I trust, will kindly welcome this edition of my father's works. His children.* at least, take great satisfaction in thus giving new effect to a life and ministry which they know to have been devoted to man's good and God's glory. FREDERICK G. CLARK. New York, April, 1872. * The children of Rev. Daniel A. Clark are : James Henry, who died aged 55; Horace Francis; Edward Payson; Frederick Gorhain ; Elizabeth Moore, who died in infancy ; Elizabeth Moore (2d), who died in infancy ; Mary Elizabeth, wife of Kev. Livingston Willard ; and Sereno Barker. INTRODUCTORY COMMENDATIONS. LETTER FROM THE REV. WILLIAM B. SPRAG.UE, D.D. Albany, May 22, 1854, J. Henry Clark, M.D. Newark, 2ST. J. My dear Sir, — I am glad to learn that you are about to publish a new edition of the Sermons of your honored father. I have always considered them as possessing characteristics which fairly entitle them not only to an enduring existence, but to a wider circulation than they have ever yet gained. My knowledge of your father's mode of sermonizing is derived chiefly from reading these volumes, as I do not remember to have heard him preach more than twice. A week or two after I graduated at Yale College, in 1815, I stopped at New Haven to pass a night on my way to Virginia. As I was conversing with some of my friends, the bell of Dr. Taylor's church announced that there was to be religi- ous service that evening ; and without knowing who was to be the preacher, we immediately determined to attend it. A stranger arose in the pulpit, and by his very first utterance impressed me with the idea that he was no common man. There was little of grace in his manner, but there was something that no one could have mistaken for anything else than power. His devotional service was striking and original ; while yet it was evidently the simple working of a highly gifted mind and apparently devout spirit. I wondered what bright star it was that had so unexpectedly appeared before us, and I even went so far as to whisper an enquiry in the ear of my nearest neigh- bor, who it could be, but I found him as ignorant and as curious as myself. From the beginning of the sermon to the end of it, I listened with the most intense interest, though the question would keep obtrud- ing itself upon me, what giant of the pulpit it was that I was hearing? and I had little doubt that it would turn out that he was one of the VI INTRODUCTORY COMMENDATIONS. most celebrated preachers in the country. Judge then what was my surprise, when, on i,r<>ing out of the church, instead of hearing that it was some illustrious man whose name and fame were known to every body, I learned that it was Mr. Clark, the minister of Southbury, a town some twenty miles from New Haven. It is due to candor to say, that tin- sermon which I heard from him that evening was one of his ablest efforts — no other than the, celebrated sermon entitled " The Church Safe," which has since been so widely circulated from tho press, and which, of itself, is enough to immortalize the mind that could produce it. The only other instance in which I ever heard your father preach, was at Amherst, Mass., on the occasion of an ordinary Sabbath day service. The sermon had the same general qualities with the one already referred to, except that it was of a less cheerful and glowing character, and was therefore less adapted to please the popular ear. I well remember that it made the sword of the Spirit look naked and glittering beyond what I had almost ever witnessed. In reading his sermons I have often been struck with a resemblance between them and many of Dr. Griffon's ; though there was, perhaps, this difference between them, that the Doctor's were more splendid and imaginative, your fat tier's were direct and overwhelmingly pungent. It would ill become me to express in detail my views of your father's character as a preacher, after the admirable, and, as it seems to me, perfect estimate of him in this respect, which has long since been given to the world by Professor Shepard. I cannot think that that esti- mate, high as it is, is at all exaggerated ; nor do I believe that the reading of the sermons will disappoint any whose expectations con- cerning them have been based upon it. And I cannot forbear to add, that I regard them as well fitted to supply or suggest an antidote to what seems to me certain growing tendencies of the American pulpit to exhibitions of high intellectual culture rather than of those simple, evangelical truths, in which the power of God pre-eminently resides. II seems to me that they may lie read with great advantage, especially by theological stud. aits and young ministers; and if any should find that there is less of intellectual refinement than suits their taste, they will at least acknowledge that they are models in respect to intel. lectual and moral power. I am, dear sir, faithfully yours, W. B. Sprague. INTRODUCTORY COMMENDATIONS. vii FROM REV. THOMAS H. SKINNER, D.D., PROFESSOR OF SACRED RHETORIC! AND PASTORAL THEOLOGT, IN THE UNION THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY OF NEW YORK!. The Sermons of the Reverend Daniel A. Clark are among the very- best that the American pulpit has produced. Indeed, few volumes of sermons have appeared — none I think since his were first published, — that deserve to be put into a higher rank. Comprehensive, various, and eminently evangelical in matter ; lucid, simple, striking in plan ; perspicuous, animated, fluent, energetic, pungent in style; close and intensely earnest in application ; masterly and powerful in their en- tire execution, they are entitled to no inferior place among models in homoletical literature. I am not surprised that there is a demand for another edition of these admirable discourses. They deserve, and I hope will have, a wide circulation, and be blest to the salvation of many souls. Thomas H. Skinner. New York, Dec. 30th, 1854. EXTRACT FROM THE INTRODUCTION TO A FORMER EDITION BY REV. WILLIAM PATTON, D.D. ******* jt jjas keen jadge(j desirable to retain the name of " Short Sermons" for the plan of sermons, some of which were published during the lifetime of Mr. Clark. They furnish valu- able hints, as well as instruction, in the art of planning sermons. Con- cerning the Miscellaneous matter, it is proper to remark, that many of the pieces first appeared in the periodical press, and at the time awakened considerable interest. Such as are here collected and re- published, are pieces of permanent value. They illustrate one trait in his character, the seizing upon passing incidents, and vividly im- pressing the mind with some great moral principle. Some of the Miscellaneous matter will be ranked among the happiest efforts of his pen. ******* viii INTRODUCTORY COMMENDATIONS. EXTRACT FROM TUE PREFACE TO A VOLUME OF SERMONS PUBLISHED IN 1826. ******* Many excellent volumes have been pub- lished, and have edified the churches, and have helped mature for heaven a multitude of believers, but which, from their occasional, metaphysical, or exclusively doctrinal character, are judged unsuita- ble to be read in evening meetings, to which so often even good men bring a mind as well as a body worn out with fiitigue, and need for their edification some repast that can hold their powers waking. Dis- courses adapted to such an occasion, which must often be read badly to a dull audience, must have poured into them all the novelty, viva- city, force and pungency possible. The truth should be condensed, and the doctrines exhibited in that practical shape that will tend to keep up, through every paragraph, a deep and lively interest. * * * EXTRACT FROM THE PREFACE TO THREE VOLUMES OF SERMONS PUBLISHED IN 1836. The author's conviction is that writings are often spoiled by too much smoothing and polishing. These volumes are therefore per mittcd to go forth without remodeling, with their occasional rough- ness, which, it is hoped, may not give offence, but simply stir up thoughts, and arouse proper feeling. He would suggest a thought with regard to the manner of reading, especially sermons. It would heighten the impression if one read aloud for the benefit of the family, after preparing himself to read with due emphasis and feeling. As a general rule, read aloud when alone, remembering that impressions made at once on the ear and eye reach the heart with double force. Let this course be prayerfully adopted, and sermons, and essays, and even the precious Bible itself, would not so often be regarded as dull compositions, but their perusal would be accompanied with power from on high. * * * * * * CONTENTS. TAGR Dedication, --------- - - iii Editorial Note, iv Introductory Commendations, --------v Preface to a Volume of Sermons published in 1826, - vii Introduction to three Volumes of Sermons published in 1836, - - viii Biography of the Author, -------- xv SERMONS. I.— The Church Safe, 41 II. — Nothing safe but the Church, - 56 III. — Perdition a Dark Spot in the Moral Landscape, 68 IV.— The Sanctuary, - 78 V. — Mirror of Human Nature, ------ 92 VI.— The Son of God must be Reverenced, - - - 104 VII. — The two Champions Contrasted, - - - - 112 VIII.— The Soul reluctantly made fast to Earth, - - 124 IX. — A Likeness taken in the Field, ----- 138 X.— The Perfected Good Man, - - 150 XL— The Perfected Good Man, No. II., - - - - 159 XII. — Iniquity Finished, - - - - 167 XIII. — Obedience the Practical test of Affection, - - - 1 79 XIV.— The Christian's Sheet Anchor, ... - - 188 XV.— Heavenly Fellowship, -198 XVI.— The Wise Builder, 205 XVII.— The Controversy Settled, 220 XVIIL— The Burning Bush, ------ 232 XIX.— The True God a Sure Defence, 241 XX.— The True God a Sure Defence, No. IL, - - - 247 XXI. — The Mysteries of Providence, ----- x CONTENTS. TAGE XX IT.— The Ways of God Unfolded, 2G5 XXILT. — The Loiterer at the Vineyard, 275 \ xi V. — Christ must have his own Place in his Gospel, - 286 XXV. — The Law and the Gospel conjointly sustained, - - 298 XXVL — Impenitent Men destitute of Holiness, - 308 XXVII.— Only one true God, ... - - - 318 XXVLTL— The Index Sure, 329 XXIX.— The Index Sure, No. II., ------ 338 XXX. — The Wise Man wise for Futurity, - 346 XXXI.— The Desperate Effort, ------ 362 XXXII.— Concio ad Clerum, 372 XXX I II. — The Mercies of God not obediently reciprocated, - - 383 XXXIV — The Industrious Young Prophets, - - - - 397 XXXV. — The Nature and Results of Sanctification, - - - 414 XXXVI. — The Means of Sanctification, 421 XXXVII.— The Great Physician, 427 XXX V HI— The Man of God Developed, 434 XXXIX.— Man his Brother's Keeper, ------ 447 XL— Man his Brother's Keeper, No. II., - 457 XLI. — True Piety peacefully Pleasant, ----- 474 XLI I. — The Enemies of the Church made to promote her interests, 481 XLI II. — Wrath conquered by love, ------ 500 XLI V.— A brand plucked from the fire, - - - - 511 XL V.— The Father the prototype of the Son, - - - - 520 XLVL— The Honest and Faithful Ministry, - - - - 52S XL VI I. — The Wealthy Christian ready to contribute, - - - 545 XLVIII. — The Enlightened Conscience Unbending, - - 554 XLIX. — The Enlightened Conscience Unbending, No. II., - 562 L. —The Concentrated Results of the Gospel, - - 570 LI.— The Bridgeless Gulf, - - - - - - - 5S0 LIL— The presence of God the glory and guide of his people, 592 LILT.— The Gospel Recluse, - 608 LIV. — The Evening of Life sorrowful, - 626 LV. — Heaven's Cure for the Plagues of Sin, - - 634 LVL— Heaven's Cure for the Plagues of Sin, No. II., - 645 I.VIL— Christ conducts to Heaven a Holy People, - - - 654 LVIIL— Gospel Truth Distinguished, ----- 665 LIX. — The Christian's best friend aggrieved, - - - 685 LX. — Terms of Divine Acceptance, ----- 097 LXI. Salvation Made Sun-, - 710 LXIL— The Desires of the Wirkcd Inadmissible, - - 719 LXHL— The Christian's Review, ------ 730 LXIV.— The Infallible Companion, U2 LXV.— Kept of God, 750 CONTENTS. Xi SHORT SERMONS, OR OUTLINES OF DISCOURSES. PAGE 1. — Jeremiah iii. 5. Behold, thou hast spoken and done evil things as thou couldest, -------- 759 2. — 2 Chron. vii. 14. If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land, - 7G9 3. — Jeremiah ix. 5. They weary themselves to commit iniquity, 773 4. — Luke x. 11. Notwithstanding, be ye sure of this, that the king- dom of God is come nigh unto you, ----- 777 5.— Ezekiel xviii. 31. Why will ye die ? - - - - 780 6. — Psalm l. 21. Thou thoughtest that I was altogether such a one as thyself; but I will reprove thee, and set them in order be- fore thine eyes, --------- 783 7. — Jeremiah viii. 22. Is there no balm in Gilead ? Is there no physician there ? Why then is not the health of the daughter of my people recovered ?----.--- 785 8. — Isaiah ii. 22. Cease ye from man, whose breath is in his nostrils ; for wherein is he to be accounted of ? ----- 788 9. — Hebrews x. 31. It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God, --------- 790 10. — Galatians iv. 15. Where is then the blessedness ye spake of? 792 11. — Psalm xlv. 10, 11. Hearken, O daughter^ and consider, and incline thine ear ; forget also thine own people and thy father's house : so shall the King greatly desire thy beauty, for he is thy Lord, and worship thou him, ------ 795 12. — Jeremiah iii. 15. I will give you pastors according to mine heart, which shall feed you with knowledge and understanding, 798 13. — 1 Peter iv. 18. And if the righteous scarcely be saved, where shall the ungodly and sinner appear? - 802 14. — Genesis xxviii. 20-22. And Jacob vowed a vow, saying, if God will be with me, and will keep me in this- way that I go, and will give me bread to eat, and raiment to put on, so that I come again to my father's house in peace ; then shall the Lord be my God : And this stone which I have set for a pillar, shall be God's house; and of all that thou shalt give me, I will surely give the tenth unto thee, ------ 804 15. — Matthew xxii. 3G, 37, 38. Master, which is the great com- mandment in the law? Jesus said unto him, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind: this is the first and great commandment, 807 XH CONTENTS. PAGB 16. — Psalm cii. 1. ITear my prayer, 0 Lord, and let my cry come unto thee, --------- 809 ] 7. — Luke xviii. 13. God be merciful to me, a sinner, - 811 18. — John iii. 14. And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilder- ness, even so must the Son of Man be lifted up, - - 813 19. — Matthew xxv. 41. Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels, - 814 20. — Matthew viii. 34. And when they saw him, they besought him that he would depart out of their coasts, - 817 2 1. — Proverbs iv. 18. But the path of the just is as the shining light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect day, - 819 22. — Genesis xxvii. 22. The voice is Jacob's voice, but the hands are the hands of Esau, -------- 821 23. — Ecclesiastes viii. 11. Because sentence against an evil work is not executed speedily, therefore the heart of the sons of men is fully set in them to do evil, ____-- 823 24. — 1 JonN iii. 3. And every man that hath this hope in him, puri- fieth himself, even as he is pure, ----- 825 25. — Numbers xxiii. 10. Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his, ------- 827 2G. — Acts xvii. 30. And the times of this ignorance God winked at; but now commandeth all men everywhere to repent, - - 829 27. — Jeremiah xvii. 5-6. Thus saith the Lord ; cursed be the man that trusteth in man, and maketh flesh his arm, and whose heart departeth from the Lord ; for he shall be like the heath in the desert, and sliall not see when good cometh ; but shall inhabit the parched places in the wilderness, in a salt land and not inhabited, -------- 831 28. — 2 Corinthians vi. 2. Behold, now is the accepted time ; behold, now is the day of salvation, ------- 833 29. — Psalm exxxvii. 5, 6. If I forget thee, 0 Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning. If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth, if I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy, ------ 834 30. — John xvii. 4. I have finished the work which thou gayest me to do, - - - - 837 31. — Romans xii. 12. Continuing instant in prayer, - _ - 839 • !'-. — Matthew v. 5. Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth, ------ 840 33. — 1 Corinthians xvi. 22. If any man love not the Lord Jesus Christ, lit, him be anathema maranatha, - 843 34.— Psalm li. It. Deliver me from blood-guiltiness, 0 God, thou God of my salvation : and my tongue shall sing aloud of thy righteousness, _.__----- 844 CONTEXTS. MISCELLANEOUS. PAGE The Syrian Captive, - - 847 Worlds sent out to illustrate the path that minds should take, - 853 Can thine Heart endure and thine Hands be strong ? - 858 A better Church will make a better World, ----- 861 If we had a better Church we should have a better World, - - 865 " Fifteen Minutes before the time," ------ 8G7 Gospel Politeness the Ally of Heaven, ------ 870 Duplicity, 873 The Return Token, 876 A Dirge of the Sanctuary, -------- 877 A Wondrous Beggar, --------- 878 Dirge for the Fourth of July, 1834, - 880 The Children's Grove Song, 881 The influence of a good taste upon the Moral Affections, - - 882 An Exposition of 1 John, iv. 19. We love him because he first loved us, 897 A Plea for the Scriptures, -------- 903 BIOGRAPHY. Daniel A. Clakk was born in Rahway, New Jersey, on March 1st, i779. His father was David Clark, a relative of Abraham Clark, whose name appears among the signers of the Declaration of Independence. He was a warm Whig, and his property was sacrificed, and his life brought into jeopardy often, in consequence of his patriotic exertions. In reference to these trying scenes, the subject of this memoir was accustomed to say, that lie "was cradled in a whirlwind." His mother, Elizabeth Moore, was l-a mother in Israel." She seems to have been a woman of great strength and decision of character. She was remarkable for plain dealing and Christian faithfulness toward her children, and those under her care; it was a some- what austere and uncompromising faithfulness, partaking of an age of more rigid authority than our own. She was alone in her efforts for the religious training and the eternal welfare of her children, for the father did not exert any religious influence. Perhaps this double share of responsibility weighed so heavy, as to induce a double vigilance and energy in her own spirit, for the saving of her house. The following is his own language, descriptive of her influence over himself. "A child of prayer, he knew a mother's worth, Knew well the silken cords she round him flung. To hold him back from crime, and woe, and death." He pays, in another connection, a more extended tribute to her influence and her worth : "She wonderfully succeeded in attaching herself to the people of the saints of the most high God. In her eyes, the pious were ever honorable; and through her persevering influence, she had many a kind word dropped in the ears of her family, by one and another that had received the hospi- tality of her house and table. In the earliest times, she surrounded herself with a kind of hallucination that threw around her a savor of heaven. She had the entire confidence of all that feared God in the neighborhood, and often consulted with them when she knew of any iniquity that was about to be practised ; especially, if by her influence the children of her neighbors and of the covenant could be kept from vice." In the " Maternal Contrast," a small volume recently prepared from his XVI BIOGKAPnT papers, is (band a full history of her character, and an extended tribute to her memory. In that little volume, he Bays, speaking directly of his mother, "It seemed to me, sometimes, that heaven told her all my history — and she never forgot my -ins. She would remember some act of waywardness many moons, if T kept from her presence, and she had no opportunity to judge me. If the testimony was not fall, she knew how to secure a con- fession ; and if not, she prayed for me, and turned me over to the judgment of the great day." "We have still another tribute to his mother's faith fulness, in the account of his conversion, which is given in his own words. Andover, Mass., Thursday, Feb. 14, 1811. "Born in 1779, 1 lived a wicked and a thoughtless life, until I was ten or twelve years old. I presume that I had, in that time, many fears of death, and of hell, but I have no definite recollection of them. My dear mother bad instructed me in the Bible, and catechism, but had made but little pro- gress in bringing me to repentance. I hated her instructions, and longed to be from under her control. As often as possible, I absented myself from her kind instructions. I hated to hear so much about sin and hell. I loved play better than truth. My mother, however, would pursue me, and re- mind me of my danger, and press me to my Bible; but it was like urging the ox to the place of slaughter. She would have found her work much easier, had my dear father yielded her that assistance which be should have done. 1 shonid then have been easily governed. But my father would Bometimes allow me to disobey my mother. This did me great injury. 1 felt my mother's word to be law; and a law it was which I seldom dared to break. If she gave me any commands which were grievous, I used to try t'> have her repeal the law she had made. If she would not, I tried to have my father say I need not mind her. If he would not do this, my con- science constrained me to obey. I often kept out of her sight, for fear she would forbid me some gratification on which my heart was set. 1 often wished that God had given me such a mother as the other boys had, ono who would indulge me more. Thus I haled her for her kindness. " When aboul twelve years of aire. I went with some of the children of the village, and one wicked boy from New- York, by the name of S , to the creek, for the purpose of crabbing. On the way our city-comrade advised us to kill a fowl which we saw by a barn, and use it for bait. Bj his persuasion and assistance we did, < >n our return, we saw, near the same place, a flock of turkeys; these we stoned until we killed several of them, and went to Bhaking off apples for our amusement. The man who owned the orchard saw us and came to forbid us. He did not discover that we had killed the turkeys, for which reason we escaped. " < >n returning home I was much alarmed to think of what we had done. I never bad 1» fore engaged in such a piece of villany, nor should I then have dmie it had 1 doI been led on, For some time I feared the man would find us out. and would have us punished. I was during some months in OOnstant agitation. OF TIIE AUTHOR. X Vli "Thus I began a bold career of wickedness. Nor did I begin only, for I made daily progress. My mother now found it difficult to manage ine. I began to break over every restraint; but still was afraid to disobey her. She remembered it, if I did, and would reprove me, or correct me, the lat- ter of which I preferred. I dreaded her reproofs. Now it was that my father should have used his authority, but he let me run on, in my despe- rate course. " When about fifteen years old, I began to wish to attend halls ; but here, my mother could give me no indulgence. There was no way that I could get to one, without keeping it a secret, or disobeying her. Her restraints now rendered me desperate, and I resolved to disobey One night, when there was a ball in the neighborhood, I went to bed, where I lay till my mother was asleep; I then rose ; carried my clothes into the field ; there 1 dressed me; I then took my father's horse and went to the ball. But my conscience so disturbed me, that I had no comfort. After staying till abont 11 o'clock, in constant agony, 1 returned, put all things right again, and went to bed. Now it was that I felt a part of hell in my bosom. I could not sleep. My whole system was agitated, so that at length the bedstead shook. I began to think that God would bear with me no longer, but would cut me off for my sins. I at length thought that I was struck with death ; but resolved to die alone. I was afraid to tell any one the reason of my distress, and knew no one who could relieve me. I thought my hell had begun. I expected before morning to be among devils. "I forget whether I finally fell asleep or not, but I believe that toward morning I did; probably through excessive fatigue. During my distress I tried to pray, but found it hard work. " In a few days I forgot all this distress, and went on with as high a hand as ever. I was desirous, above all things, to attend balls. Once I remem- ber going to a great distance to attend one, but came home much more un- happy than I went; this, however, was always the case. " About this time there was a ball appointed in the neighborhood, of which I became a party. The landlady, being professedly pious, informed my mother that I was there, and engaged in the dance. Like an Israelite in- deed, she sent for me honi9. I refused to go. She then came herself, and ordered me home. Now I knew not what to do. I had waited upon a young lady to the ball, and could not leave her there, and dared ool stay myself. I very soon invited the young lady to go home, and thus made my retreat. " 1 have often doubted if my mother acted wisely in this matter. She reduced me to desperation. I felt, the next day, ashamed of my very exist- ence. I wished my mother dead. I wished for anything which mighl free me from restraint. In my heart I cursed that dear mother, who loved mo bo tenderly that she would have done anything possible for my temporal or eternal good. 'Now if my father bad done his duty, I might have been slopped in my course. Alas! he stood silent by. Now it was that my mother IV111 BIOGRArUY led for my Boul. T used to see her come from lier closet in tears, and often used to overhear her prayers. M My lather began to think of putting me to business. The man with whom he wished me to live was very wicked. He -was, however, called a smart man, which induced my father to propose my living with him. I began to long for the time when I should leave home, intending then to take my full of sinful pleasure. But God had otherwise determined. My dear mother continued to pray, and God resolved to hear. Before the time had come when I was to leave home, there was, in Elizabethtown, some atten- tion to religion. The preaching of Rev. David Austen was hlessed to the hopeful conversion of some, although he was at that time becoming wild in many of his notions. It was, on the whole, a very solemn time. Many seemed anxious about their souls. On the first day of May, the sacrament > be administered at Elizabethtown, and several were to be added to the Church. I had my doubts in the morning whether I would go to Eliza- bethtown, or Rahway, but some of my companions inviting me, I went with them to Elizabethtown. The day was warm. Our walk, of three miles, having fatigued me, I resolved to fix myself in a corner of the pew, and dur- ing the sermon to take a nap. I took my seat, but as soon as Mr. Austen had i aken his text, my feelings seemed very much awakened. I resolved to listen to the discourse. The text was, Jer. 1. 4, 5. "In those days and in me, saith the Lord, the children of Israel shall come, they and the children of Judah together, going and weeping; they shall go and seek the Lord their God. They shall ask the way to Zion, with their faces thither- ward, saying, Come, and let us join ourselves to the Lord in a p?rpetual co- venant, that Bhall not be forgotten." The sermon seemed directed to me. I melted under the word. It was the first sermon to which I ever gave good attention, and I humbly hope the Lord set it home by his Spirit. Thirteen that day added to the Church. I was much impressed while I saw them come and join themselves to the Lord. I longed to be with them. I thought I loved them as I never loved any human being before. I sat in my corner seat till the sacrament was over, pouring out one constant flood of I then sought to hide from my merry companions, with whom I felt that I could never again have communion, unless they were regenerated. I retired in the intermission of Divine service, to a lonely grove, where, for the fust time. I poured out my heart to God in prayer. It seemed to me that Cod was on my right hand and on my left. I never had felt that he was everywhere, before. My lirst anxious prayer was, that I might hold out to the end. When I came home from meeting, I found my father's family all absenl — they having gone to a conference, I retired to my chamber, and falling on my knees, attempted again to pray. In the evening I went to the conference, anxious to hear Divine truth. Thus was spent that first pleasanl day of my life. " Whether I was that day regenerated, T dare not say: I think this was 36. I bad very little previous distress. During the preceding week 1 bad been alarmed, by a solemn account in the Connecticut Evangelical Magazine^ of a young hilly, who, having her heart set on attending a ball, OF THE AUTHOR. XU had one appointed at her request, but Avas herself buried on the day ap- pointed for the ball. This account touched my case, and drove me to a form of prayer. But I had no convictions, nor was my heart at al in my prayers. I prayed because 1 was afraid I should be damned. I one day felt while I re- tired to pray, that if I had power enough to pull God from his throne, I would not pray. I had, however, resolved to keep up a form of prayer as long as I lived. In this resolve I slnuld certainly have failed, had not God, as I humbly hope, given me a new heart. " My knowledge of gospel truth, notwithstanding all the efforts of my mother, was at this time very small. I certainly did not know enough to be a comfortable believer. During a whole year I obtained no satisfactory hope that my heart was renewed. I took much pleasure in the company and conversation of God's people. They seemed to me the excellent of the earth. I sometimes went six or seven miles to meet with them in confer- ence. I put too much dependence on meetings. I felt as if they were ne- cessary to keep alive my religion. I almost worshiped the man who was the instrument of arousing me. Natural affections were very much sub- stituted for religion. I have often thought, that if I had any religion during this first year, it was as a drop in the ocean. "Very soon after being awakened, I felt the need of a companion; and God seemed to give me one. A young man in my neighborhood, and one whom I had long enjoyed as a companion in vice, was awakened at a con- ference, attended by the Rev. Mr. C . Immediately after the meeting, he sent me a line, in which he opened his mind to me, and gave me great joy. I flew to his embrace, and, I suppose, felt proud that God had an- swered my prayer. He seemed so deeply impressed, and came out so boldly from the world, that he made me doubt whether I had met with a saving change. For about two weeks, we spent almost all our time to- gether, in prayer and conversation. He then began to be less fond of my company, and soon entirely forsook me. Thus the gourd that had grown up in a night, withered in a day. I suppose God designed, by this afllicting stroke, to wean me from man, and bring me to himself. I felt more than ever the importance of having a religion which would live without any support but from heaven. To convince me still more thoroughly (if this important truth, God so ordered it in his providence, that I should go into the employ of that man whom I have already brought into view. In this thing I think my father was wrong. He ought now to have provided for my groAvth in grace. This new situation, in which my rebellious heart had formerly anticipated much delight, was now very unpleasant. I lived in the midst of oaths and curses. They laughed at my seriousness, and tried many ways to make me dishonor religion. And, 0, my soul, too often they succeeded! I had now very little opportunity to read, or attend reli- gious conference. All this tended to drive me into retirement, where ! might pray. Many times in the day I used to leave the wicked throng which surrounded me, that I might spend a few moments alone. Many of my evenings were spent in tears. My life was gloomy as death. I spout much of my leisure time in reading the Bible. Having a Bible of small XX BIOGRAPHY print, and Betting up to read it until late at night, I found at length tnai 1 had almost ruined my eyes. They became so weak, that for several years afterward I could not read a chapter in the Bible with any comfort. This also tended to make me feel that I must have a religion which came from God only, and which he would nourish by his Spirit. "During the first year of my seriousness, 1 had a very bad opinion of my Heart, till at length I concluded that I had no religion. I Avas distressed, for fear that I had never been acquainted with Christ. I certainly was very ignorant of his character. Sometime in the latter part of the winter, I happened to discover in the house where I lived, an old, dirty pamphlet; which, on examining, I found to contain two sermons of Doctor Hopkins, one on the law, and the other on the gospel. The text of the latter sermon was, "Which were born not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will df man, but of God." These sermons suited my case. They con- vinced me that I wras very ignorant of Christ, and threw me into great distress, which continued many months. During this time, I felt as if I could not pray. There seemed to be a cloud of brass between me and God. Sometime in April, my distress, one Sabbath morning, arose so high, that I thought I could not live. I took my hymn-book and walked the fields. Every tiling I saw seemed as gloomy as death. I several times fell on my face, and despaired of mercy. I tried to pray, and could not. The whole day was dark and dismal. In the evening I attended a conference, and all was dark yet. After the conference, the Rev. Mr. Chapman, (who was then my minister, and who felt very anxious for me, and had already, at my request, propounded me to the church,) inquired of my feelings. 1 told him, " Gloomy as death." He immediately pointed me to Christ. J told him that I was afraid I had never found the Savior. He told me then, that my religion was vain. His conversation was the means, I hope, of bringing m? to be better acquainted with Christ, and of dispersing my darkness. ! hat! a charming evening and night, almost all of which I spent in the same fields where 1 had despaired in the morning. My cloud of orass now seemed to he penetrable. I thought I had near access to God. I continued mere eomfortarjle, until, on the first day of May, (just one year from the time ol my first feeling the change,) I joined the church, and took my -eat among the followers of the Lamb." He soon after formed the purpose of preparing for the ministry; and in 1S02, commenced Ins academical studies, under the care of Rev. Dr. Finley of Baskenridge. In .March, 1S05, he was summoned home to see his mother die. She had no anxiety but for the souls of her children. He heard herspcatt of God's goodness, of her joy in the light of his countenance, and her readiness to depart : he saw her depart in peace, and in the clear hope of a glorious immortality. The loss of such a mother affected him deeply. He entered Princeton College in 1805, and graduated in 1 SOS, with so high a reputation foi scholarship, that the proffer of a tutorship was made OF THE AUTHOR. XXI lo him, which, however, he declined, that he might eater at once upon his professional studies. The following letter to his uncle and aunt, written in the latter part of his college life, is interesting for the sentiments it contains, and the pious spirit which it breathes. " Princeton, N. J., Jan. 10, 1808. " My Dear Uncle and Aunt : " I take it for granted that you are so much interested in the welfare of all your friends, as to wish to hear from them. I regret that so wide a space parts us, as to forbid our intercourse. Since the dissolution of my fa- ther's family, I feel more interested than before in the smiles of my other friends. How good is God in this! that when one of the streams that con- vey satisfaction and delight to our minds dries up, he allows tbe same sweets to reach us by other channels. His mercy forbids, or the days of mourning would be protracted to the grave. This is a world full of chang- es, and as full of disappointments. We often forget on what we lean until it gives way, and exposes us to a fall. Friends often lean on friends, instead of an Almighty arm, and provoke God to cut them off by death, that they may return and put their trust in him. Since my very agreeable visit to your country, I have felt greatly interested in the welfare of your family. I often picture you, in my imagination, standing on the border of Canaan, looking forward with joy to the fields of light, and hailing the inviting dawn of the resurrection morning : and, at the same time looking backward with no. less delight, to see your children walking in that blessed path, that must terminate at the gates of the New Jerusalem. O, how great is the portion of the Christian ! He possesses either the reality, or the certain promise of every good. He walks through every danger without hurt, and shall at last stand on the ashes of the universe and triumphantly say, I have lost nothing. My dearest friends, let a young pilgrim admonish you to keep your eyes fixed upon your ascended Redeemer. Your only hope, you know, is in him; your only safety in him. If he smile on you, ten thousand hells could not hurt you — but if he frown, as many Gabriels of light could not administer a drop of joy. To serve Christ is the whole business of life, and and if we refuse to serve him, we ought to be generous enough to leave the world he made for that purpose. He intended to be served here when he laid the foundation of the earth ; and the sons of God looking: forward to the glory of his kingdom, shouted for joy. 1 hear with joy that Christ is making daily encroachments upon the kingdom of the prince of darkness. Newark and Elizabethtown witness, at present, some of the most interesting scenes that ever passed in review before the eyes of men. The stoutest hearts yield to invitations of the gospel. The child of eight years and the sire of ninety, unite their harmonious songs to the Lamb that was slain, and has redeemed them unto himself by his blood. From this town I have no good news to tell you, unless it be that upwards of twenty-five, are here prepar- ing to blow the gospel trump. But what God will do with this people I know not, for they are nearly all asleep upon the brink of death. I know Xxii BIOGRAPHY oot of a worse evil that can happen to any people, than that of being for- saken by the Spirit of God. " Uncle will see in the printed sheet which accompanies this letter, the happy state of the College, which he will please make as public as possible. '• Yours, very affectionately, Daniel A. Clark." Some of his contributions to periodicals, during his College course, evince much thought, and maturity of intellect. Mr. Clark commenced his theological studies under the direction of the Presbytery of New York. In May, 1809, he left Newark, in company with Dr. Grillin, for Andover: the latter to be a teacher in that then infant Sem- inary, the former a student. His residence at Andover was from one to two years, he having entered the second (middle) class. This was the third class formed in that Seminary, which left in 1811. In the course of Mr. Clark's residence at Andover, the place was favored with a revival of religion, in which he was very deeply interested, and for the promotion of which he labored with great zeal and success. Some account of this work, and of his own exercises in view of it, is found among his papers. The following extracts from his diary may not be uninteresting, as indicating his spiritual state while in a course of theological study. " Andover, Mass., Sabbath, October loth, 1S09. " Again somewhat unwell. The day is dull, and the preaching poor. The week past, however, has been pleasant, because the Lord was among us. O, how good is it to see sinnners inquire the way to Zion, with their faces thitherward ! It seems to make us forget that we are in a wretched world, and we begin to (eel ourselves blest. And truly they are blest, whom the Lord permits to rejoice in the displays of his Sovereign grace. They seem to sit around where Jesus is, and to feel a part of heaven. " Evening. — Spent with the Misses E , and two of my brethren, con- versing about Christ, the Savior of sinners. I hope Christ was there. Blessed be his name, for meliorating the woes of this sublunary scene, by setting up a Church in it, and giving his people to see the displays of his grace in the salvation of sinners. What shall we render to the Lord for all his benefits ? How shall his poor people make him any return : For all they are ami all they have is God's. He saw them weltering in their blood ; cast out Ami lying in the open field, forlorn, Without an eye to pity, or an arm To help ; nor was there found in heaven, or earth, Or in the world of woe, a heart to feci, Save His who felt (moved by the sinner's pains, Or rather by his own eternal love,) And flew from heaven to save, and snatch them thence, And healed their wounds and made their hearts rejoice. Yes, all they have is His, and His are they. They love to serve their King, and shout his praise, ^ 'i. gladly would they burn with seraph's flame Until the sacred fire had made them pure. OF TIIE AUTHOR. XX1U " Wednesday, November 20, 1809. " Our brother dies* — and why is God dealing with us so early in wrath ? What is God saying to us in all this? He is in heaven, and we on the earth, and our words must be few. I am to prepare an address on the occa- sion. But I know not what to say. May the Spirit of the Lord direct me." " Andover, Sabbath Morning, July 1st, 1810. "I perceive that I have neglected my diary for two months. A part of that time I have spent very agreeably in Beverly, where the Lord is shed- ding down his showers of grace. It was sweet to be there. How pleasant to stand still and see the salvation of God ! To see the sinner melt under the word, and hear him inquire, what he shall do to be saved ? — this is de- lightful. I remember to have often prayed, that God would cast my lot where he was pouring out his Holy Spirit. 1 have now spent six weeks in such a place, and hope I have received some advantage. I think that I long to be always in such a place— to be always where God reveals his gra- cious name. I long now to live near to him, to have every day some view of his face, to feel every morning and evening the same fervent glow of af- fection. Must my soul ever again leave my God ? Upon what object can it fix, if it should act so unwise a part ? Will it try again to be pleased with earthly objects, and fix its hopes on sublunary good ? Oh, no! these have all been tried. I have found by long and painful experience, that earth has no one charm for my soul. It may play for a moment around some painted earthly object, but it soon remembers its home, and begins to mourn. Hills and groves sometimes delight it a moment, but soon it feels a longing desire after an acquaintance with the God who founded and painted them. Imagination soon leaves the scenery, and bears me to the fields of light, where the redeemed gaze for ever upon that more lovely object, the Lamb of God. Oh, my God ! is not this eager desire after a better object, some faint proof that my soul has been renewed by thy Divine grace ? Do I not love thee ?" It appears from the preceding, that Mr. Clark, at this period, Avas not neglectful of his own spiritual interests, or of those of others, but. watched, and labored, and prayed, that souls might be saved, and Zion prosper, and Christ be honored. There is other testimony, to the same effect. One who was in the same original company from Newark, writes, under a recent date, that " His character for devoted piety was eminent in the Seminary. He was active and useful in a season of religious interest, which commenced in i In- south part of the town, during the fall vacation of 1S09 in the Seminary." Another respected minister, who came into the Seminary about the time Mr. Clark left it, writes, " My wife, who was somewhat acquainted with him while at Andover, and who became interested in religion during the first revival at A., • Mr. Badger, a fellow student with tun in Andover Theological Seminary. Sxiv BIGGKAPIIY in which your father, with some otliers of his classmates, bore n con- spicuous part, remembers and speaks of him with great affection ; and thinks he was one of the most useful instruments which God was pleased to employ in that blessed work— a work which gave a new tone and character to the piety of the church in that place, and the influence of which has been felt from that day to this, among that people." In October, 1S10, before finally leaving Andover, he Avas examined, and licensed to preach the gospel by the Presbytery of New Jersey. In 1811, he visited Portland, where a work of grace was in progress, and engaged in earnest labors for its promotion. He occupied, for several Aveeks, the pulpit of Dr. Beman, then one of the ministers of Portland, and who was absent, for a season, in consequence of ill health. On January 1, 1S12, he was ordained a minister of the gospel, and in- stalled pastor of the Congregational Union Church of Braintree and Wey- mouth. In June, of the same year, he was married, at Portland, Maine, to Miss Eliza Barker, daughter of Dr. Jeremiah Barker, of Gorham. The field in which Mr. Clark commenced his ministry, was a somewhat difficult and rugged one; and he seems to have entered and continued in it with many trials. He complains, in a letter, that there are but few to pray for a revival ; that many have taken offence at his preaching — some because he endeavored to raise the standard of piety, by which they were cut off from their hope that they were Christians; others, because his preaching was directed against coldness, covetousness, balls and cards; others, probably, from his heavy and demolishing assaults of the Unitarian heresy, which he never was in the habit of sparing. The following letter, to the parents of Mrs. Clark, is instructive, and il indicates »i.s anxiety for the spiritual good of his relatives. " Weymouth, March, 12, 1813. 11 Dear Parents — We thank you for your friendly letters, and regret that we have not expressed our gratitude sooner. It always nt. were convicted of sin, and it is believed were converted to God. The cloud which had been hanging over us, now seemed to burst, and to deluge, as it were, with salvation, the whole town. The Church, fearing that Mr. C. would sink under his multiplied labors, called at this time to his aid a faithful brother in the ministry. Meetings were now held every evening in different parts of the town, in connection with the general meeting once a held at the centre village. The work went on with great power and Steadiness, ami continued through the winter, and resulted in bringing more than one hundred converts into the Church, most of whom have done honor to their profession, and many, we trust, are now enjoying the society of their beloved pastor, in that bright world where they have met, to part no more for ever. We have lived to see many revivals, but never have we witnessed one of more thrilling interest than this, or when the power of God was more disceri '• Mr. C. was happy, in devising means for blessing the dear people of his s. The revival had no sooner subsided, than he began to contemplate, with a melancholy interest, the ravages which Intemperance had made, and was still making, in the town. At that time his people had not the light which has been Bhed by the present Temperance Reform, to guide them. Even gnnd men had labored hitherto under the mistaken notion, that a mod- erate use "f alcoholic drinks is not only not hurtful, but beneficial Mr. C. ''ell, however, that something could, and must be done, to stay the ravages OF THE AUTHOR. Xxix of the destroyer. He came forward with this proposition, 'Let the name of every individual in the town be obtained, who is willing to report faith- fully, what amount of distilled liquor he has used in his family during tlte current year.1 Strange as it may seem uow, only twenty -five persons, among a population of about four thousand, could be induced to go even that length. As loose, however, as this compact was, it still resulted in great good, for it demonstrated, what had not yet been found out among this people, that total abstinence from ardent spirit was a practicable thing. The year came round. None/ was appended to the names of eight out of twenty-five. This result was both surprising and encouraging. The second annual report was still more gratifying. The Society now numbered more than one hundred mem- bers, most of whom had wholly abstained from the use of distilled liquors. The sale of liquors in the town had been reduced nearly one-half. At this meeting the Society ventured to advance another step. It was accordingly resolved to practice total abstinence from distilled spirit. This, at that time, was thought to be a very ultra measure, and stirred up the united wrath of the rum-drinkers and rum-sellers of the place. But this only served to in- spire Mr. Clark with increased zeal and energy in carrying forward the cause of his Master. The Society went steadily forward, increasing in numbers and in usefulness: It has now adopted the total abstinence pledge, and numbers over twelve hundred members, and is one of the most thorough and efficient societies that we are acquainted with in any part of the coun- try. With all this before us, we cannot help remarking, that the day of small things is not to be despised. " One fact, in connection with the Temperance Reform in Bennington, we cannot refrain from stating, as it is an illustration of Mr. Clark's manner of unmasking error, and of his boldness in preaching the truth. The tem- perance cause having advanced so far as to admit of a question whether professors of religion ought to be engaged in the traffic or not, a Church meeting was called to discuss the subject. At that time we had a vrvy worthy Deacon who was trafficking in the poison, who came forward, and in a labored argument, tried to convince the Church that, as the sale would go on, it had better be confined to conscientious persons, who would be more decent about it than others. The Deacon had no sooner resumed his seat, than Mr. Clark arose, and replied in substance, as follows: "Strange doctrine this I The argument of my brother goes too far. It would prove that all the theatres, and brothels, should be kept by conscientious men, that sinners might be guided down to hell the more decently. No! no! If it must be sold, I would place at the tap the same old lying serpent that handed Eve the apple, that it might appear to be the very infernal traffic that it is.' " The Bible was a precious book to our beloved pastor. He was not only himself a diligent student of it, but was unwearied in his efforts to promoto in others a knowledge of the -acre-! word. During a considers of the time while he resided at Bennington, he superintended thn e \ Bible classes, in different parts of the town — the one on the Sabbath, at XXX BIOGRAPHY. intermission, he called his ' Bibliary,' to which all the congregation -were invited. These, many can testify, and ourselves among the number, were seasons of great profit and interest. It was a source of high satisfaction to him, to impart from his great and well-stored mind, the results of his deep research and profound reflections upon Divine truth. " Mr. Clark was not only indefatigable in his efforts to promote the know- ledge of the Scriptures, but he was, also, a warm patron and supporter of schools and lyceums. As evidence of this we will state, that as one of ua was engaged, during our whole residence in Bennington, in conducting a high school, if we were at all successful in that labor, (and the public must now judge to what extent we were,) we owe that success more to his counsel and hearty support, than to any other cause. "A spirited Lyceum, through his influence, was established, and sup- ported with ability, while it had his presence to encourage and stimulate its members, and the benefit of his lectures. " Mr. Clark, as a preacher, was bold, original, pungent, direct. No one could listen to him during a single discourse, without feeling that he was in the presence of a great and master spirit. He wielded the sword of the Spirit, like some mighty giant, tearing, as it were, the stubborn oaks up by the roots, and sweeping away the refuge of lies, dashing in pieces the false hopes of the Church, giving no quarter to sin, in any shape or form, in high places or low. No difficulty nor trials could daunt him, or divert bim a moment from his purpose. Whatever was truth, he would advocate it, no matter what the opposition. Surrounded as he was with a mass of infi- delity and ungodliness, it was not to be supposed that his bold and fearless course would awaken no hostile feelings. Very soon after the great revival of which we have spoken, the elements of wrath began to combine. His exposures of iniquity, both out of the church and in, were too glaring to be endured in silence. Nevertheless, so great was the charm that accom- panied his preaching, that some of his bitterest enemies never failed to be among his auditors, although they would curse him the moment they left the sanctuary. And some of them, so great was their desire to hear him, — and they were not willing to do it in an open manner, — were found in secret places, as they thought, unobserved, listening to the truth as it fell from his lips, and yet would not come to Christ, that they might have life. Infidelity was struck dumb before his powerful arguments, and some of the most learned and able of all the sceptics in that place were brought to embrace the Savior during his ministry. " The above account, we are sensible, does but slender justice to the faithful, talented, and devoted ministry of your honored and lamented father in Bennington. The revelation of secret things only, we believe, will fully unfold all the beneficial results of his untiring labors among that people." Mr. Clark received a dismission from his charge here, and in the fall of 1830, win! to Troy, X. T., and again occupied the pulpit of Dr. Beman, who found it necessary to travel to the south, on account of ill health. He OF THE AUTHOR. XXXI appears to have entered upon this field with great earnestness; and during his stay, to have performed a vast amount of labor. The following brief sketch of his labors in this city, is given by Rev. Dr. Beman : " Your father commenced his labors in the first Presbyterian Church, in the Autumn of 1830. My own health had been for sonie time impaired, and I had concluded, by the advice of friends, to spend the approaching winter in the southern States. It was a great object with my congregation and myself, to procure a suitable and efficient supply for my pulpit, during my absence. My thoughts were first directed to your father, from the fact, that I had known him intimately in early life. He had supplied my pulpit, during a temporary illness on my part, in Portland, Maine, in 1811 ; and I was at that time much interested in his preaching. I had been informed, before I recommended him to my congregation, in Troy, that he would pro- bably be willing to leave Bennington, if a promising field of labor were to present itself. " He accepted the invitation given to him by the Session of the First Presbyterian Church, and after being dismissed from his pastoral charge, he commenced his labors in Troy, in the fall of 1830, soon after my departure for the south. In this station, Mr. Clark was acceptable as a preacher, and the Church and congregation were kept together, and increased under his ministry. "About the close of the year 1S30, after mutual consultation and advice, Mr. C. and the Session of the Church appointed what, with perhaps a sin- gle exception, was a new thing in this part of the country — 'a four days meeting.' As the time approached the responsibility of the undertaking seemed to increase, and they all felt it deeply. They betook themselves to the throne of grace, and resolved to repose their trust in God, and meet the occasion. They did so. Mr. C. enjoyed the labors of some faithful breth- ren in the ministry, and a deep impression was made during the meeting. Many were convicted. Some ' who came to scoff, remained to pray.' All before had been as quiet as death. The Churches in the city and neighbor- hood had been, for some time, in a state of religious declension ; but a blessed revival now commenced, which spread through the city, and ex- tended to several Churches in the country. " In the congregation to which Mr. C. ministered, the shower of mercy was extensive and refreshing. The revival continued, with greater or less pow- er, through the winter. The Church was much engaged, and many who had lived without hope and without God in the world, were converted. The blessed fruits of this awakening are seen and felt in the Church to this day. Some of the converts have already gone in triumph to heaven, and others are walking with God on the earth. No doubt very many will feel the benefit of Mr. Clark's labors and this revival, in an endless eternity. " In the month of March, one hundred persons were received to the Church, on profession of their faith ; and a number more, as the fruits of this revival, at subsequent communions during the vear. The Church, to tins XXXii BIOGRAPHY dav, look back to this time of refreshing, as one of the most blessed they have ever enjoyed. " Mr. Clark continued, as the supply of this congregation, till some time in the month of June, when the pastor returned and resumed his labors. His preaching was characterized by solemnity, directness, and power. The Church felt it — and sinners felt it— and long will the memory of Daniel A. Clark, as an able and faithful servant of God, be embalmed in the affections of this people." The following is an extract from a letter by an intelligent layman, in relation to Mr. Clark's labors at Troy : '• Whilst a degree of deadness seemed to pervade the minds and hearts of the Church, fears were entertained that the congregation would suffer from the absence of their pastor. After laboring a few Sabbaths, Mr. Clark call- ed a meeting of the Session, and the question was asked, what could be done to interest the minds of the congregation on the subject of their spirit- ual interests; or, in other words, most directly and powerfully to promote a revival of religion ? It was proposed that a ' four days meeting' should be held, during which the truth might be constantly held up before the minds of the Church, and such of the impenitent as might be disposed or induced to attend. In accordance with this plan, such a meeting was appointed about the middle of December, and this was the first of those assemblages in that section of the country, which have been since denominated, 'Pro- tracted Meetings.' The blessing attending it exceeded the expectation of the I hurch, and of those whose happy lot it was to labor in it. During this meeting Mr. C. was favored with the assistance of the Rev. Mr. Kirk of Al- bany, and Mr. Tracy of Nassau; and subsequently, during a week, or more, in the month of January, with that of the Rev. Dr. Griffin of Williams College. .Many were convicted and brought to a knowledge of the Savior, and a powerful revival extended throughout the city, and to many places in the vicinity. Many were added to the Rev. Dr. Beman's Church, and great ions were made to the other Presbyterian Churches, and to Churches of other denominations. •' In adopting this novel measure, much solicitude was felt on the part both of Mr. C.and the Church, and a fear lest the blessing might be withheld led them, no doubt, to cast themselves on God for help. In Mr. C, this feel ing seemed manifest in addressing the assembly on one of the first days of the meeting. Early the next morning, at a prayer meeting held at a pri vate house, a number of impenitent sinners presented themselves to be made the subjects of prayer. From this period the work progressed with interest to the opening of the spring. Many who labored with the preacher through those interesting scenes, will ever remember the deep feeling and the interest manifested by him in behalf of inquirers, lest they should con- tinue to resisl the truth, or settle on some false ground of hope; and in be- half of com rertS, lest they should fail of deriving instruction and consolation from the Word, necessary to their progress in the Christian race, and growth in holiness." OF THE AUTHOR. XXXlil Mr. Clark's labors in this place resulting as they did, were of course nighly appreciated, and will be remembered by many with joyful interest, to the ages of eternity. He subsequently labored in Utica and vicinity, in places where God was pouring out his Spirit. His preaching was much sought after, and very highly prized in these scenes of hallowed in- terest. He took up his abode for a short season in Utica. On his way to this place, on board one of the canal boats, he met with an accident which very sensibly affected one of his modes of communication and address. He broke the thumb of his right hand, by which he was rendered incapable of writing, except with the greatest difficulty, and then very illegibly. He left Utica the latter part of June, 1S32. He moved with his family on Thursday: the cholera commenced its ravages three doors off, on the following Sabbath, and before Wednesday, it had numbered two victims in the very house Mr. Clark had left. Such Providential interpositions he always observed, and was much affected by them. On July 17, of this year, Mr. Clark was installed over the Presbyterian church in Adams, Jefferson county, N. Y. This was his last charge, and his labors were very brief; being obliged, by the state of his health, to withdraw at the end of little more than a year. His iron constitution, which had stood firm under the hardest labors and most heaving emotions, now gave way. " The first indication of the fatal change," says one of his sons, " occurred in this way. He had been laboring at Sackett's Harbor, a town on the lake, and returned on Saturday evening, to supply his own pulpit the next day. On Monday morning early, a carriage was sent, with the earnest entreaty that he would immediately return to Sackett's Har- bor, as the truth uttered by him on Saturday, had taken effect. To my mother's amazement he refused to go, having ever showed the utmost readiness to engage in such labors. On the same day he prepared a skele- ton of a sermon, and handing it to my mother, burst into tears, and said, ' My dear, I am done — I cannot read that paper — I leave you a widow and my children orphans.' Never shall I forget, to my dying day, the manner in which my father received the unwelcome evidence that his disease had assumed a fatal character. His great strength was now gone. From thai time he failed gradually, till God called him home." Being no longer equal to the duties of a settled minister, he took leave of his people at Adams, and removed, in the fall of 1833, to New York, where his children resided, and were engaging in business. He was attack- ed, soon after he came to the city, with his first stroke of paralysis, which, however, was so slight, that his friends were not sure of its nature. He employed himself, partly, in preparing contributions for religious periodicals, and in supplying, for a few weeks together, the vacant pulpit of some neighboring church. Another and prominent labor of these days of weak- ness, was getting ready for the press, and getting out, the three volumes of Sermons which appeared m I83tiand '7. His labor upon these was doubt- less a relief to his mind, as he intimates in the preface. "But since his health has failed and he can no longer stand in the holy place, rather than XXXIV BIOGRAPHY bear the agony of living to no purpose, he has decided to arrange and issue these three volumes." This " agony " he felt upon receiving, about this time, an eligible call to fettle ; and he wept that he could not accept it. He knew that a change had come over him, but the nature of that change he could not understand. His friends hoped much from a southern voyage and residence. In the fall of 1S34, he took passage for Charleston, S. C, where he spent the win- ter, amid the hospitality and kindness peculiar to that city. Though in a feeble state of health while there, he used both his voice and his pen. He preached, occasionally, with some of his usual earnestness and energy; and he contributed to the New York Observer his " First impressions of Charles- ton," over the signature "A bird in the air." He also contributed con- siderable matter to the Charleston Observer. At times his strength would seem to return, and he would be capable, for a little season, of great mental effort: then again, his disease would come back, and in a moment change all this strength to utter feebleness. In the spring of 1S35, he returned with no. improvement in his health. Frequent depletion was resorted to, and contiuued while he lived, in order to prevent the obstinate determination of blood to the head, which was the ever pressing symptom. In the fall of 1S37, he was removed with the family to New Haven, in the hope that a more quiet residence might prove beneficial to him. Here new scenes, and new friends, seemed, at first, to produce a change for the better. It was here that he preached, with great difficulty, his last sermon, from the words: "Behold, thou hast spoken and done evil things as thou couldst." Jer. iii. 5. He was soon after seized with a fit of paralysis of so severe a character, as to threaten a speedy termination of his life. His sons were summonail from New York, with the expectation that he was then to die; but God's purpose was not so. The paralysis affected the right side, and the organs of speech. After this, he was not able to walk with ease and take active exercise, as he had before done. His condition, at this time, is prophetically depicted by himself, on pp. G28, G29. In the spring of 1838, finding that the removal was of no benefit to him, the family returned to New York. During this year he gradually failed, and was henceforth incapable of any mental effort. His disease came upon him in renewed and severe attacks, till it broke down the strong texture of his mind. He often expressed the wish that he might die in the full possession of his faculties, and with his hopes of heaven firm and bright. While he was favored with some seasons such as he desired, it was often his lot to lie either spiritually or mentally under a cloud. He sometimes expressed the fear that he should be lost; that he had never been born of the Spirit, and washed in the Redeemer's blood. When asked, why then he attended meetings with so much interest, he replied, with emphasis, " That he loved to see the cause of Zion prosper, and souls brought in, even if he had no part in those provisions himself." He evinced great tenderness of conscience, and said it grieved him that OF THE AUTHOR. XXXV he had ever requested any one to receive less than the stated price for any article. His seasons of protracted depression and gloom were occasionally relieved by the pleasing illusion that he was surrounded by old and dear friends, who had been long dead ; and that two of his sons, who were trav- eling in Europe, had returned, and were by his side. In one of his dark hours, a.friend said to him, " The Lord says, ' In six troubles I will be with you, and in seven I will not forsake.' " He replied, that he had no objection to the interpretation, and appeared composed and soothed by the thought. It was pleasing to his friends to observe, that at those times when the light of reason was dimmed by the thick and heavy darkness of his disease, there were decisive indications of the strong religious habit of his mind, and of bis warm attachment to the cause of Christ. After he had lost the power of speech, and even of consciousness, as it was thought, a friend related in his room the particulars of a work of grace then in progress in Broadway Tabernacle, where he loved to attend church when he was able. He re- ceived the intelligence, aud it seemed to thrill his bosom ; for he cast forth at the close a beaming glance, and then burst into tears — the way he had for a long time expressed all kinds of emotion. Zion, for whose welfare he labored in life, he appeared to love in death. He was faithfully attended during his protracted illness by his intimate friend, Dr. James C. Bliss, of New York, in whose skill his friends have ever reposed the utmost confidence. His disease was one of rare occur- rence— the ossification of the arteries of the brain. On the third day of March, 1840, he was released from suffering, and quietly passed away. His funeral was attended on Friday, the 6th, by a large number of cler- gymen and friends. The procession moved to the Broadway Tabernacle, where appropriate exercises were performed by Rev. Dr. Parker, (who delivered the address,) and by Rev. Dr. Patton and Rev. Dr. Adams, in presence of a large concourse of people. Solemn is the scene when the minister dies, and becomes the subject of the services he had so often per- formed over the remains of others ; and preaches, not with the living voice from the pulpit, but with silent eloquence from the coffin. On Saturday, his remains were taken to New Haven, and after religious exercises in Rev. Henry G. Ludlow's Church, were consigned to the family resting-place, in the beautiful cemetery of that city. The remains of Mr. Clark were subsequently removed to The Woodlawn Cemetery, near New York, where a fitting monument has been erected by his children. In the social character of Mr. Clark, there was much simplicity and frank- ness. He was always ready to express his sentiments with freedom and independence. His moral courage was unlimited. In influencing men, he relied mainly upon the force of truth, and very little upon worldly tact and management. This course, as might be expected, made for him many warm friends, and some as warm enemies. His solicitude for the right conduct, and present and future welfare of his children, appears in letters which he wrote to them when absent from him. The following items of advice, to a son in college, are sen trillions and forcible: XXXVI BIOGRAPHY " 0 rny son, it is easy to tell you how to be happy, and I will spend the rest of this page in telling you how. Set your heart on God. Say to your- self, God made me, and has a right to me, and shall have my whole heart. Make it your business to prepare to be useful. Do nothing, merely because vou love to, unless it be wise, and right, and good. Do nothing, that you will have to deny you did. Do nothing that you will be ashamed to have it known you did. Do right. Do unto others as you would have them do to you. Be the best scholar you can be. Lose no time ; time is money Read your Bible daily, and every day pray for heavenly wisdom Refuse to be fou.id a moment in the company of vile men. Remember that char- acter is made up of morsels; every look, and gesture, and word, and smile, and frown, constitutes each its distinct morsel of that character 0, my son, you cannot cease to be, till the sun goes out, and time runs out, and eternity wears out, and God shall cease to be. Now one that must live so lono-, and whose happiness through all that long life, depends wholly on character, cannot take too much pains in forming that character just right I embrace religion, of course, in my calculations respecting character What will render us estimable in the sight of God as well as in the sight of men, is above all price." " Again hi another letter: ... ."It will soon be too late. The College character is fixed the first year; and the character for life fixed in College, and the character for eternity, fixed in early life. Now you must love your Maker, or what can you love? and must care for what he says, or whom can you care for, or what ? How tremendous are the months that are now revolving over you— months that will tell on your character and destiny when myriads of ages have rolled away?" He was remarkable throughout his whole life for his industry. A gen- tleman, who is a member of the Assembly in his native state, said of him: " He was always busy, never lost any time, and entered with all his soul into whatever engaged his attention." In his religions character, Mr. Clark seems not to have been character- ized by the cheerful and hopeful. In the fine language of Robert Hall, he did not so much "soar to the heights, as sound the depths of Christian pie- ty." Instead of "regaling himself with fruit from the tree of life, he was often on the waves of an impetuous sea, doing business in the mighty wa- ters." With all his experience of human depravity, and his profound esti- m ne of its malignant and dreadful energies, he had firm confidence in the greatness of the atonement, and the greater energies, already pledged and s ion to be put forth, in the subjugation of a world to Christ. He loved to contemplate God as on the throne, the Almighty Sovereign in the kingdom of nature and of grace, achieving his benignant purposes, bringing into ser- vice the wrath of his foes, securing the redemption of unnumbered souls, and the glory of bis own great name. 1 very manifest through all the preceding narrative, that Mr. Clark was a great lover of revivals of religion, and he showed this attachment by the zeal and power of his labors to promote them, while preparing for the y, and through all his pastoral life; and after he ceas> d to be a pastor OF TIIE AUTHOR. XXXVU his heart seemed full and intensely flowing when in the midst of a revival scene. Mr. Clark loved the sanctuary, and the services and ordinances of God's house. " I would do," he says, " without a roof to cover my head, and have my lodging in the clefts of the rocks, but I must go to the house of the Lord and fix my dying grasp upon the horns of the altar." It was strikingly so; for the very last time he ever went out, it was to stagger to a Methodist Church near his dwelling, that he might still again worship God in " the sanctuary." Mr. Clark loved very ardently the cause of the Bible and missions, and all those operations which are sustained for the saving of the nations, and (he ushering in of the day of millennial glory. No one, who has read the " Church Safe," throughout which the heart seems to speak, can doubt Mr. Clark's warm attachment to the benevolent doings of his times. " When the bosom of charity shall beat a little stronger, if there shall be necessity, men will sell houses or farms to save the sinner from hell, and the child will sit down and weep, who may not say, that his father and mother were the friends of missions. And what parent would entail such a curse upon his children, and prevent them from lifting up their heads in the millenium? I had rather leave mine toiling in the ditch, there to enjoy the luxury of reflecting that a father's charity made them poor. Poor ! They are poor who cannot feel for the miseries of a perishing world, to whom God has given abundance, but who grudge to use it for his honor. Teach your children charity, and they can never be poor." Mr. Clark loved and honored prayer. He seems to have laid great stress upon it as the life and power of all other means. He sought it for himself through all his ministry; he sought it with great earnestness for a dying world. " The observance of the first Monday in January as a day of prayer for the conversion of the world," writes the Rev. Leicester A. Sawyer, " was first proposed by Rev. Daniel A. Ciark, to the Presbytery of Watertown, N. Y., at a semi-annual meeting of that body, held in February, 1833. A memorial was addressed by that Presbytery to the General Assembly of the same year, requesting the Assembly to take order in favor of the observance of that concert. The memorial was favorably received, and led to the re- commendation of the annual concert to the numerous churches in connec- tion with the Assembly. Mr. Clark was chairman of the committee which reported the memorial above mentioned, and was the author of that in- teresting document" Mr. Clark prayed himself like a man who was accustomed to the exercise. He prayed in the sanctuary with great fervor, often with a surprising richness and scope of sentiment. His range and variety were indeed remarkable: few men whom we have heard in public prayer exceeded him in these respects. He was loth to cease praying with others, even after his faculties had become exceedingly impaired, in his clearer seasons, he would often call his family around his bed, and pray with them ; and he continued to do this, after he had so far lost the power of articulation, that they could not understand him. Entering by accident a female prayer meeting, among the last days he walked out. be was sup- posed not to hear; and when asked to take a part, he at first refused, but XXXVW BIOGRAPHY soon broke out in a fervent, heavenly prayer, with an originality of concep- tion and freedom of utterance which astonished his friends. It is, indeed, as the poet says, Prayer is the Christian's vital breath, The Christian's native air ; His watch-word at the gate of death — He enters heaven by prayer." In his professional career, Mr. Clark was hearty and laborious. He labored, we have seen, for the intellectual elevation of his people. He labored for their moral improvement, for their deliverance from intempe- rance and all degrading vice. He labored more especially for their conver- sion to God, and preparation for heaven. He sought this end in pastoral visitation. During one whole winter, in one of his most arduous fields, he appointed on the Sabbath, family visits for every morning in the week; and he met the families designated, and the neighbors who came in, making sometimes quite a congregation; and his labors of this sort, were greatly blessed. He sought the same great end in his preaching. He loved to preach; and he gratified this affection by actually preaching a great deal, both in season and out of season. He was accustomed to go out and preach statedly in the neighborhoods of his society. It was not uncommon for him to preach three times on the Sabbath, and on every evening in the week. And then when he went from home, he would preach as he could find opportuni- ty. Even, when on a journey, as he stopped for a night in a village, he would sometimes make his arrangements, issue his notice, cause the bell to be rung, and preach to those who might assemble, and in the morning go on his way. His repeated declaration was, " I must work while the day lasts," and he did work with great constancy. His constitution was a strong one, as it must have been, to sustain the earnest labors of twenty-one years, with the loss of but a single Sabbath from ill health. We here introduce extracts from two letters, written by two clergymen of the Presbyterian Church, witnesses of Mr. Clark's labors at the time, which bring out still further the traits of his religious character, and professional course. The first, an esteemed minister in Vermont, writes: " I would speak first of how much Mr. Clark was loved and admired as a a preacher by his friends, which were many. I had the privilege of sitting uinler his ministry one year. I have ever esteemed it one of the most pre- cious years of my life. I lived three miles from the place of worship, yet I do not recollect that I missed of hearing him a single Sabbath. The reason was, I could not bear to forego the luxury of attending ispon his preaching. I speak the words of soberness when I say, that during that time 1 never heard a sermon but I was sorry when it was done. " The effect of his eloquence, of the boldness of his conceptions, of his striking and appropriate figures upon his hearers, was often very great. A lady remarked to me, that at one time, his eloquence had such an over- 5 OF THE AUTHOR. jraVnr powering effect upon her, tha'; she felt afiaid that she should die if he proceeded farther. I am conscious of having experienced feelings somewhat similar more than once, while listening to him. We felt, when he spoke, that there was power —power of thought, power of illustration, accompanied by a powerful voice, whose deep tones seemed at times to shake the founda- tions of the sanctuary. " Though Mr. Clark prepared his two written sermons every Sabbath, still he excelled as an extempore preacher. This I had abundant reason to know, as he often attended a third service, in the chapel in our village. One Sabbath afternoon, a gentleman, who was about to go out as a foreign missionary, preached for him, from the words, " The night is far spent, the day is at hand ; let us therefore cast off the works of darkness," &c. In the evening, Mr. Clark came to our chapel, and preached from the same text two full hours. During all this time, every eye was fixed upon the speaker ; there was not one exhibited weariness. Many were heard next day to say, " We were sorry Avhen the sermon was done — we should have been willing to have listened two hours longer." That sermon was a topic of conversation in the village for weeks after it was delivered. In- deed, his sermons Avere generally a topic of conversation in our village, for the week following. I remember distinctly feeling every hour, for more than a week, the impression that one of his sermons made upon me, from the words, "Wherein is he to be accounted of?" And though ten years have elapsed since the evening I heard the sermon, I remember that he told us how the text came to his mind, while lying awake at the solemn hour of midnight, and how the sentiment of the text unfolded to his mind and impressed his heart. " Mr. Clark's sermons were filled with thought, often original, always concisely and strikingly expressed. I was often impressed with this fact, while a student in the classical seminary at B. The teacher gave us an exercise every Monday morning, to repeat one or more thoughts of the ser- mons we had heard the previous Sabbath. I observed that we always had an abundance of them when Mr. Clark had been the preacher, some- times a meagre supply, when others had preached. "The power of God, as exhibited in governing a revolted world, a race of rebels, seemed to have deeply impressed Mr. Clark's mind, and to have given shape and character to his conceptions. He loved to dwell on the text, " Thou shalt make the wrath of man to praise thee, and the remainder thereof thou shalt restrain." He loved to tell how God controlled, and overpowered, and changed the hearts of his enemies, while in the undis- turbed exercise of their free agency. He abounded in anecdotes illustra- tive of this great truth. " Mr. Clark excelled in his knowledge of the unrenewed human heart ; in portraying its desperate depravity, its opposition to God and to holiness. His faithful exhibitions of the native human heart procured him many enemies, and the exhibition of their enmity, which he saw and felt, but served to give him a more vivid impression of their wickedness, and to induce him to hold up more prominently their fearful guilt. Perhaps he erred some- xl BIOGRAPHY times, in needlessly exasperating the impenitent, by too honestly giving utterance to his heartfelt and unmitigated abhorrence of their guilt and rebellion. " Mr. Clark was not one of those preachers who think it expedient to hold back some of the doctrines of the Bible, during seasons of great re- ligious excitement. The first time I heard him preach, was under the fol- lowing circumstances. A powerful revival had just commenced in a manufacturing village in the town of B. A great number were awakened, and deeply alarmed, but there had been but few conversions. In view of the existing state of things, the Church had appointed a day of fasting and prayer. The meeting was held in a large dry-house, connected with a woollen factory. It was computed that nearly one thousand persons were present. The deepest solemnity and stillness prevailed, interrupted only by the occasional sigh or groan of a burdened heart. A neighboring min- ister preached in the morning. Mr. Clark, in the afternoon, to the surprise and grief of many, myself among the rest, preached on the sovereignty of God. But that sermon told on those awakened guilty hearts, and from that hour, the revival went on with increased power. As a master work man, he looked over that immense audience, and saw how and where to strike the blow. "In conclusion, I would remark, that Mr. Clark eminently excelled in imparting Biblical instruction. His knowledge of the Scriptures was great, and he possessed a peculiar faculty of imparting that knowledge to others. All pressed to his Bible classes, young and old, infidel and Christian." The other, a respected clergyman in western New York, says : " When I was a youth, while residing in Milford, Mass., I became deeply interested in the writings and character of Mr. Clark, by reading his tract, ' The Church Safe.' My pastor, the Rev. David Long, thought so much of that production, that he caused it to be publicly read on the Sabbath. " My first acquaintance with Mr. Clark was formed at the time he visit- ed Homer, Courtlandville, and vicinity — I should think, in 1831. A 'four days meeting' was attended at McLean, in Groton, Tompkins County. It was conducted by several pastors, who invited Mr. Clark to preach. He complied, enlisting his whole soul in the work. I recollect several of his texts:— Jer. Hi. 5. "Behold, thou hast spoken and done evil things as thou couldest." While he was preaching on that text, such was the view of human depravity which be gave, and such was the sense which I had of my own native depravity, that a faintness came over me; and I really be- lieve that if it had not been for the hope which I had in the atonement of Jesus, I should have sunk to the floor. Another text was Luke x. 11. " Notwithstanding, be ye sure of this, that the kingdom of God is come nigh unto you." This was the closing sermon of the meeting— il was mosl affecting. He told the people, that as he should depart from the vil- lage, In; would pause on yonder hill, and pour one more Hood of tears over sinners in thai place, who had rejected the kingdom of God, though i*. had come so nish unto them. OF THE AUTHOR. ill " On one of the days of the meeting, a pious woman inquired of me, ' Is that the Mr. Clark who wrote The Church Safe?' On being assured that it was, 'Then,' said she, ' I must speak with him. Immediately she was introduced. As she took his hand, she said with much emotion, ' That tract — The Church Safe — has done my soul so much good, that I felt as if I must shake hands with the man Avho wrote it.' ' My good woman,' said Mr. Clark, bursting into tears, ' I am thankful to the Lord if my poor labors have been useful to you.' I was delighted with his Christian simplicity, and more still, with the sincere gratitude which he so feelingly expressed, for the evidence that he had been useful to an humble individual. " It was either a little prior, or a little subsequent to the meeting at McLean, that I had the pleasure of visiting with Mr. Clark, at the residence of a mutual friend of ours, or rather, his particular friend, and the friend of my ancestors. Mr. Clark and this pious layman, had been intimately ac- quainted with each other at Amherst, Mass. This good man had passed through changing scenes; he was once in a situation among New England farmers, which is denominated by the significant phrase, 'good circumstances.' But at the time of our visit, he was a laborious tenant upon the farm of an- other. He was at a little distance from us, stooping down, busily engaged at his toil. Mr. Clark, standing in a thoughtful posture, fixed his eyes upon him, as if he were taking a serious retrospect of his past history, when, ad- dressing himself tome, he uttered the following expression, with an em- phasis which I can never write—' God loves that man? I suppose that it is impossible for me to convey to others the impression which this remark made upon my mind. "Mr. Clark's sermons, I find, are most valued by that class of Christians who are intelligent, who have been much in the furnace of affliction, and who are best acquainted with the deep recesses of their own hearts. His sermons will not be appreciated by those who just run them over, glancing at the heads and the conclusion. They must be read studiously and devo- tionally, then they will do the soul good. I consider them as admira- bly adapted to be useful to Churches that are destitute of preaching. ' God loved that man,' I have no doubt, and loves him still more as his spi- rit mingles amid the spirits of the just made perfect." It is a gratifying circumstance, when the sermons of one, who was heard with so marked interest and profit, are given to the public. Those who heard Mr. Clark, will be glad to get possession of his printed discourses. The eloquence that thrilled us, when we listened to the living voice of its author, we long to take to our closets and read. No person of discernment can read far in these pages, without perceiving that the author possessed a 6lrongly marked intellect, which he could easily put under the highest pressure of feeling; that he was not remarkable for the refined, the acute, the hair-splitting, but for the strong, the massive, the weighty; that the reasoning faculty in him was of the practical, common sense sort ; the ima- gination, within certain limits, vigorous and good; the power of language, original and striking. X01 BIOGRAPHY Perhaps the attempt to sketch the characteristic features of these ser- mons, in the same volume which contains them, is superfluous, as every reader lias an opportunity to judge for himself. We ask, however, to be in- dulged in this respect, that we may complete the estimate of Mr. Clark's powers as a herald of the everlasting gospel. These sermons are constructed not for a temporary, but a permanent and progressive popularity. They have not the light and frothy brilliancy which would fit them to be gazed at and admired for a day, and then to be for- gotten, but they possess those at once solid and attractive qualities, which will cause them to be read in far future times. The subjects upon which these sermons are written are of a general and permanent interest. While they are not so prominently experimental as are found in the discourses of some preachers, they are such as the mind and heart respond to, and are deeply interested in. Mr. Clark seems not so much at home on topics which lead to a nice analysis of the spiritual man, as upon those which are connected with the security, and the certain tri- umph of the Christian on the one hand ; with the depravity, the madness, the impotence, the sure defeat and the utter shame and ruin of the enemy of God on the other. The two contrasted subjects, "The Church Safe," and, " Nothing Safe but the Church," furnish the field, over which he rang- ed the most adroitly and powerfully. Mr. Clark takes pleasure in accom- panying the Church through her conflicts, and developing the stability of her basis, and the invincible might of her Protector. He loves to group to- gether and accumulate on his pages the perfect evidence of her safety. We find all the great doctrines of the Christian system brought out in the sermons of Mr. Clark, with the utmost distinctness. The trumpet in no place gives an uncertain sound. We do not read far to learn, that the autho' is a linn believer in the doctrines of the Trinity, of the atonement, total depravity, regeneration, election, the saints' perseverance, and eternal reward and punishment. Whilst the sermons are not formally, dryly doctrinal, in them all we have discussions of great truths and principles, which give them a solid and instructive character. On one page, the attributes and glory of God meet and awe us; on another, the love and offices of Christ attract and give us peace; from another, the Comforter offers to come into our hearts; in this discourse, a picture of human vileness pains and humbles us; in that, the law draws upon us its two-edged sword; in the other, mercy points to (he place of refuge from the avenging stroke. The whole gospel is here strongly and discriminated presented. Mr. Clark contended earnestly for the faith and the order of the gospel. His arguments and efforts were rather with the semi-Christian, who professedly received the gospel, but re- jected its great doctrines, than with those who rejected the Bible and all that was in it; or with brethren who differed from him in some minor shades of sentiment. In the general arrangement and structure of his sermons, Mr. Clark ex- hibits a good degree of simplicity. They never appear so elaborately studied, or curiously drawn out, as to cause perplexity to the mind; or as OF THE AUTHOR. Xliii to lead us to the bones for the most striking part of the structure. He fre- quently adopts the textual mode; and where it is not a breaking up of the words of the text into the heads of the sermon, which he sometimes does, there is a very free statement of topics, one after the other, as they are naturally suggested by the passage chosen as the basis of the discourse. For instance, the forty-sixth sermon — " The honest and faithful ministry" —on 2 Cor. iv. 1, 2. The textual division has this advantage ; the preacher has an opportunity to bring out the full and rich meaning of the passage in hand. The sermon grows out of the text; separate from the text, it can have no existence; it is biblical and authoritative. We ought not to despise the textual style of proceeding, though some seem to do it, as not being so scholarlike, so con- formable to rule, so favorable to unity, and to a logical and symmetrical discourse as some other. It is the style which the heart often inclines to, in its earnest desire to bring forth and make effective the simple gospel upon the souls of men. We have thought, sometimes, that when we have the least disposition to preach ourselves, we have the strongest inclination r.o arrange our matter in the humble, unpretending, textual way. This more biblical mode, in the hands of Mr. Clark, is admirably vindi- cated. Few men have the power he exhibits of building striking and in- teresting paragraphs upon very common-place heads. The plan may be almost stupidly textual; but in the filling up, there will be original and vigorous thoughts, in very cogent language. Perhaps there is no better test of real power than this. The preacher, who will take the common subjects and the common topics of discourse, and imbue them with a more energetic spirit, and invest them with a deeper and more commanding in- terest, has the very best power and qualification for his work, and will secure the best kind of popularity. Mr. Clark is not at all a hortatory preacher ; he furnishes a good pro- portion of clear and weighty discussion. He does not assail us with fierce, unbased appeals; never attempts to carry the heart by hurling against it volleys of rattling words. He first packs together a solid body of truth, and then brings that body in contact, either as fire to melt, or as a hammer to break the rock in pieces. He invariably employs the popular and rhetorical style of reasoning. His arguments are remarkable for a reliance upon Scripture facts to give them force and conclusiveness. In some of his best efforts, there is no other reasoning than a logical adducing and linking together of scriptural facts. The first sermon, entitled " The Church Safe," is a fine example of this. As- surance of the proposition is made out, 1, "From the firmness and stability of the Divine operations." Under this head, expectation is excited. It is strengthened, 2, by a view of " What God has done for his Church." Un- der this head, the prominent Divine interpositions in favor of Zion's interests are graphically and rapidly sketched. 3. " God is doing noxo just such things as he has done." 4. " The expectation is consummated by a glance at the promises and the prophecies." As a specimen of the graphic and condensed style with which Mr. Clark proceeds in this kind of writing, we XllV BIOGRAPHY adduce a paragraph or two. In his sketch of what God has done for the Church, he says : "Let us retrace, for a moment, a few pages of her history, and we shall see that when the Church was low, he raised her; when she was in danger, he saved her. Amid all the mural desolations of the old world, the Church never became extinct. And he at length held the winds in his list, and barred the fountains of the deep, till Noah could build the ark, and the Church could be housed from the storm. How wonderful were his inter- positions, when the Church was embodied in the family of Abraham ! In redeeming her from Egyptian bondage, how did he open upon that guilty land all the embrasures of heaven, till they thrust out his people! And he conducted them to Canaan by the same masterly hand. The sea divided, and Jordan rolled back its waters; the rock became a pool, and the heavens rained them bread, till they drank at the fountains and ate of the fruits of the land of promise When the Church diminished, and her prospects clouded over, he raised up reformers. Such were Sam- uel, and David, and llezekiah, and Josiah, and Daniel, and Ezra, and Nehe- miah : such were all the prophets. Each in his turn became a master builder, and the temple arose, opposition notwithstanding. . . . Again, under the apostles, how did her prospects brighten ! In three thousand hearts, under a single sermon, commenced the process of sanctirication The very cross proved an engine to erect her pillars; the flames lighted her apartments, and the blood of the martyrs cemented the walls of her temple, and contributed to its strength and beauty. Every dying groan alarmed the prince of hell, and shook the pillars of his dreary domain.'' See pp. 44, 45. We set down "The Church Safe" as, on the whole, the most admirable production of its author. Few sermons have made a stronger sensation on their publication. It was extensively sought and read, and contributed not a little to awaken the benevolent energies of the Church, to the enterprise before her. The writer vividly remembers the evening when the village, where he resided, were summoned together to the reading of this sermon, by a younir man who bad brought it in from abroad. It is no small achieve- ment to have prepared and put forth to the world one such discourse. The sermon, entitled " i he Enemies of the Church made to promote her Interests," page 481, is another fine specimen of argumentation from facts. Here, as in the preceding, the] are marshalled in the most admirable order. There is a quick and strong movement ; at once rhetorical beauty and How, and argumentative clenchi -. The sermon is a good example of a discourse, in which unpalatable truths are sei forth and firmly established by t lie sim- ple force of (acts. The facts are so employed as to hedge up the hearer to the conclusion he hates to come to. The obnoxi >us point is God's sove- reignty in the use and disposal, the award and punishment of his rebellious creatures,— a point kindred with that which our Savior, in a similar way. fixed incontrovertibly upon his hearers, in the village where he had been OF THE AUTHOR. xlv brought up. It is an example worthy of imitation, whenever we are to propound truths in the face of strong prejudices and passions; let the preacher keep to the ground of God's simple sayings, and the admitted facts of his Providence, and the deep unsilenced monitions of conscience, and if he does not produce conviction and belief of the truth, he will do some- thing toward checking cavils and silencing objections. Mr. Clark bears some resemblance to President Edwards in his manner of reasoning and discussion. Neither of them falls into the gratuitous blun- der of attempting to shore up the Divine affirmation of a doctrine, by their own arguments. The doctrine is received upon the Divine testimony. This perfectly establishes it. The main object of the argument or illustration is indirectly to do away objections and prejudices, and directly to commend the truth to the hearer's conscience; to make it real, vivid, convicting, arous- ing to the sinner's mind. It is the blindness of men which constitutes the grand barrier to the progress and the redeeming results of truth. If the preacher can but give to truth breadth and body, and impart reality to its disclosures, men wih see it; and the next thing with many will be, they will feel it; finally, the Spirit helping, they will receive it. The reductio ad absurdum is a form of argument, in which our author seems to be much at home. He wields it now and then with terrible, al- most annihilating power. Tn connection with it, there occasionally appears a little spice of satire; and a disposition to confound his opponent and cover him with shame, instead of satisfying and recovering him to the path of truth. In some instances, he runs, in the first place, the erroneous position to its legitimate results, and holds up the glaring absurdities of the case, and then breaks out in a strain of the most vehement reprobation of the obnox- ious point. For example, on the error that Christ is a finite created being: " He indebted to another for his own existence, but we must trust in him for eternal life ; he our shield, and still he has no power of his own to pro- tect; he our guide, but another must enlighten and guide him ; he our in- tercessor, and still he cannot know when we pray If there is a scheme, which rather than any other, charges God foolishly, makes the plainest truth a mystery, and the whole Bible a bundle of absurdities, and proudly conducts its votaries to death, it is that which thus quenches the light of Israel. Must I choose between it and open infidelity, 1 would be an infidel. By the same dash with which I blot the name of the Redeemer, I would obliterate the Father, and believe the grave the end of me. I would not waste my time and strength, and torture my conscience, to mutilate '.lie book of God; but would believe the whole a lie, and warm myself in its blaze, and wish I were a brute. Then I would calmly expect one day to he a supper for the worms, free from dread of the worm that shall never die." Seep. 343. There is a similar strain in another sermon, in which the same low vieW9 of Christ a- above are opposed. Our author is speaking of the incalculable injury, which even a doubL of the proper Divinity of Chris' would be to tho believer: xlvi BIOGRAPnT " That doubt would mar their creed ; for they must yield other doctrines, when their Redeemer has become a creature. That atonement, which he only could make; that ruin of our nature which he only can repair; that ever-enduring hell, from which he only can rescue us ; that Sabbath, which his rising made; that Comforter, whom he kindly sent; and that plenary inspiration of the Scriptures, which establishes his Divinity, must all be plucked from their creed, and it would stand then, like a pine, lightning- smitten, scorched in its every leaf, and rived to its deepest roots, to be the haunt of the owl and the curse of the forest. When you shall blast my creed like this, you may have, for a farthing, the remnant of my poor, mu-# tilated Bible, and I will sit down and weep life away, over this benighted world, to which is reserved the blackness of darkness for ever." — See p. 295. These passages are exceedingly powerful and striking; they were writ- ten, unquestionably, under a mighty tide of emotion. Mr. Clark, we think, often wrote in this mood ; and in the rush of feeling and strength of ex- pression dictated thereby, now and then there would escape from him a sentiment, very nearly transcending the bounds of truth and propriety. We cannot but doubt the correctness and wisdom of declaring or implying, in any connection, that absolute infidelity is rather to be chosen, than that form of Christianity, which denies the Divinity of its author. The style of Mr. Clark is throughout very decisively characterized by strength. It is manifest that he aimed chiefly at this ; that to this he was will in? to sacrifice the light and winning graces of language. In his pre- face, he expresses the conviction, " that writings are often spoiled by too much smoothing and polishing. Hence the present volumes are permitted to go forth with those occasional roughnesses, which, it is hoped, may not give offence, but simply stir up thought and rouse proper feeling." Mr. Clark's prominent faults and excellences, both in language and spirit, are to be traced to the reaching forth of a fervid and powerful mind for great strength of thought and diction. There is uncommon compactness and condensation in our author's style. There are but few words which can be safely blotted out; nor, by recasting, can Ave diminish the space a thought occupies. There is a very sparing use of epithets and qualifying terms. The principal words are selected with so much precision generally, that he succeeds in conveying his idea without the aid of thronging expletives and adjuncts. When reading him, we are constrained sometimes to pause and admire the amount and pungent force of meaning, conveyed by some single word, or brief combination of words. This is one of the very highest ex- cellences of style — every word fraught with meaning. It takes some a lonsr time to get weaned from their love of the jingle of adjectives and adjuncts, though assured, from every quarter, that no other single thing does more to encumber and enfeeble the style. One of the great rhetorical sins in preaching, it seems to us, is overdoing— saying too much on the to- pics introduced, and especially taking up altogether too much time in say- ing what we do say. a* OP THE AUTHOR. xlvii Mr. Clark has not only strength — he has frequently a simple elegance and harmony. This harmony, indeed, is very common, when it is not disturbed by a bold .and startling harshness. The following is a fair specimen of the often easy and musical flow of the sentences. " Individuals may prosper most when they are nearest destruction. The old world and the devoted cities were never more prosperous, than when their last sun was rising. Men may be ripe for the scythe of death, their cup of iniquity full, while yet their fields wave with the abundant harvests, and the atmosphere is fragrant with the odors of the ripened fruits and flowers, and echoes with the song of the cheerful laborers." Another attribute for which Mr. C.'s style is remarkable is vivacity. There is nothing about it dry, abstract, dead. Every thing is living, mov- ing. He is almost constantly giving us vivid pictures. He shows great skill in gathering and grouping the interesting circumstances of a scene or case. It is this skilful touching of some characteristic circumstance, which brings before the mind the picture of a whole scene : " How many, once as rich as you, are now poor; or as healthy as you, are now in the grave; had a home as you have, but it burned down ; had children, as, it may be, you have, but the cold blast came over them and they died. And was it not kindness in God, that saved you what you have ?" Another example : " Where had we been if the hand of God had not been under us ? To what world had we fled, lohen some friend was closing our eyes ? How employed on the day of our funeral solemnities?" Once more: " Wer-e Christ to come again, and put himself in the power of sinners, would not many of our communicants leave the sacrament, and go away to crucify him ?" It is very obvious that nearly all the peculiar freshness and force of these pas- sages, is owing to the striking pictures brought before us. Mr. Clark's writings abound in examples of what Campbell calls " speciality " in the use of terms ; that is, the seizing upon those which are particular and de- terminate, which, of course, present a more vivid image. He was more remarkably characterized by the use of this figure, if it may be called a figure, than any preacher of our acquaintance. We perceive it in every paragraph, almost in every sentence. Everywhere we are met with the specific stroke. Hence, common things are said in a way to be very strik- ing. For instance, " The cause of intemperance moved on briskly, till it was discovered that the Church held in her fellowship those who would drink of the cup of devils, but was stayed in its march till she had time to entomb her inebriates." In another somewhat rough extract, " If the arti- cle must be sold, for the use, and ruin, and utter damnation of men, I would place at the tap the same lying serpent that handed Eve the apple, that it might appear the very infernal commerce that it is." To speak of a property kindred with the above, we may add, that Mr. Clark's style is enlivened and strengthened with a great deal of rapid and bold metaphor. It is everywhere a leading characteristic. He speaks of " reining in the passions ;" of " cradling the corrupt passions;" of "feeding the appetite ;" " blunting the reason ;" " killing the keenness of conscience ;" of " hewing down men in the prime of life ;" of " being harnessed for the xlviii BiOGRApnr Divine service;" of "digging after comforts ;" of "fencing the truth from the sinner's dying pillow;1' of "wading to the grave in tears." We find in our author none of the extended, overwrought figure which we so often find in President Davies' Sermons. Clark frequently does in a line, when the imagination is addressed, what Davies employed a page in doing. Perhaps the former was too quick and glancihg i.i his strokes of this sort; certainly the latter did more execution on the popular mind ; the former has this praise, that he is more Demosthenes. Mr. Clark often uses Scripture facts metaphorically, and with good effect. " Paul had gone to lay waste that very Church, which, a few days after, it was his honor and joy to edify. The devourer was caught with the prey in his teeth and made a lamb." Again, " The gospel may produce wrath and still be a savor of life. The tenant of the tombs raved, and then believed." The writer has a vivid recollection of an instance of this sort in hearing him some eighteen years since. The simple stroke did in his mind the work of a dozen sermons. Mr. Clark was addressing Chris- tians at the Lord's table. The sentiment was in substance this: 'Feihaps some are in a luminous, happy frame, and in it they feel confident that they shall no more betray the interests of Jesus, as they have done. Beware of this confidence, Peter thought just so once; yet he went dirt'Ctly down from the scenes of Tabor, and swore that he never knew him.' It may be remarked in this connection, that our author generally derives nis figures and illustrations from obvious and common sources. There is no going out of the way for pretty, and fragrant, and sunny things. There are no singing birds, nor silvery lakes, nor glistening dew-drops to charm us ; " nothing here of the fringes of the north-star ; nothing of nature's becom- ing unnatural; nothing of the down of angel's wings, or the beautiful locks of cherubims; no starched similitudes, introduced with a " thus have I seen a cloud rolling in the airy mansion," and the like. Such things are not fit fur the pulpit ; they seem profane in so sacred a place. They certainly have no power there. The truly drastic men have nothing to do with them. They are not afraid nor ashamed to lay hands on familiar objects. These are understood, they are felt by the hearer. "I will wipe Jerusalem as a man wipeth a dish, wiping it and turning it upside down." What can ex- ceed this in strength and impressiveness ? The Bible is full of the most cogent figures; cogent from the commonness of the objects. In this way Mr. Clark attained to a startling power in many of his illustrations. " The truth exhibits impenitent men as playing the fool with their own best inter- ests. A madman who in a paroxysm of his disease, has butchered his family, and half despatched himself, and has waked to consciousness in the very act of suicide, is scarcely a sorer picture of wretchedness and ruin, than the sinni-r upon whose conscience there has been suddenly poured the light of truth." Speaking of the fact, that the wicked are occasionally strangely spared, while the righteous are cut down, he says: "the basest of human beings have sometimes measured out a hundred years, have attended the funeral of every pious contemporary, and have even blown the trumpet of revolt in three centuries." On the passage, " Christ gave himself for us," OF THE AUTHOR. xiix &c, he says: "How easily could he have blighted oil our hopes in thai dark hour. Had he sent Judas to his own place, or rendered him an honest man when he came to steal the betraying kiss; or had he struck lifeless that midnight band which came to apprehend him : or had he let down into hell that senate chamber with its mass of hypocrisy, and paralyzed the sinews of the soldiery that crucified him , then had there been none to betray, arrest, or murder the Son of God." When speaking of the sinner's perdition, our author sets it forth com- monly in the most terrific imagery of the Bible. Had there been a little more of the mild, the gentle, the winning, had there been a less frequent appeal to the terrible motives of truth, more of the imbuing of that love which bled on Calvary, Mr. Clark would have stood as a preacher, pre-emi- nent and complete. But we may not leave what we have to say upon the gen- eral strain and spirit of these sermons without adding, that, with all his sternness, and hard, unbending fidelity, Mr. Clark has the power of the pa- thetic to a very considerable degree. This power grows out of another we have ascribed to him, namely, the power of moral painting. Some parts of the "Church Safe" are fine specimens of the pathetic. The entire ser- mon, entitled : "The industrious young Prophets," is throughout graphic and tender, and must have strongly and deeply moved the feelings of the auditors. Speaking of Christians who have gone from abounding privileg- es, and are now living far away in regions of moral desolation, he says' " They cannot educate for themselves a ministry, and build in the wil- derness the unnumbered conveniences they left behind. They have turned their eyes to us, and if we refuse them help, we cover them with unmingled despair The mother who had devoted her children to God, and has gone with them into the western wilds, must die crushed with the tremen- dous thought, that she became a mother merely that she might people the realms of death. Already she has hung her harp upon the willows, and there it must hang, till some kind missionary enter the door of her cabin, and wipes away her tears; and this missionary we must educate. Ten long years must still roll away before he arrives, and she, in the mean time, bleached by the frosts of age, trembles on the brink of the grave, but dares not die, till her hopes are accomplished and her children saved." See p. 403. On the whole, we must be permitted to affirm the opinion, that Mr. Clark deserves to hold a very high rank as a preparer of sermons. With some peculiar faults, he possessed rare and substantial merits. He was not an imitator; there appears nowhere upon him the marks of any other n - stamp. As a student of Dr. Griffin, he was probably incited and influenced by that gigantic model. Yet his style is not Griffin's, nor does it bear any resemblance, except in a bold, rough, independent power. Every thing our author said came forth with his own characteristic impress. Having now examined the instruments our author employed, their mate- pal and their structure, it seems necessary to the completeness of our esti« 1 BIOGRAPHY mate, that we look at our author's style of wielding the instrument ; in other words, that we view him as a preacher of his sermons. His smiting was generally with a blade which he had previously fabricated and furbished, though he could make a good one at the time when :'t was necessary; in other words, he ordinarily preached on 'he Sabbath, sermons which had been written carefully and in full. We wish to say distinctly, that these sermons were delivered in a way to give them their strongest effect. Mr. Clark did not read them, he preached them. He took the matter not from his memory; he took it from bis paper, and preached it : and it was as really a specimen of preaching, and good preaching, as any improviser can give. Mr. Clark admirably vindicated manuscript preaching ; he showed that it need not be dull preaching, that it may be warm and stirring to the high- est degree. Most will concede that Mr. Clark is sufficiently pungent and heated. We love to meet with new instances of stirring power in the use of the pen. We are grateful to our author for these warm- hearted specimens. We deprecate the coming of a time, when ministers shall lay aside the pen in their pulpit preparations. With it they would lay aside one half of their power. There will then be an end to extempo- raneous preaching of the highest order. We very much doubt, whether there ever was or ever will be a first rate extemporaneous speaker, who was not, at the same time, a good writer. The discipline of the writing is necessary to impart order and richness to the speaking. Let all writing be done witb, and the extemporaneous product grows diffuse and comparative- ly empty. The man, who writes in part vigorously and well, will proceed with closeness and order in the sermons he does not write. He may make his written sermons warm, searching, effective ; and the unwritten will catch from the written a thorough imbuing and seasoning of the same sterling qualities. Mr. Clark was an arresting preacher, with all the alleged disadvantages of his paper before him. He had a remarkable power of seizing and hold- ing the attention. U he did not awaken spiritually the auditor, he kept him awake physically. From what we have said of his style, it would be infer- red that the house in which he preached would not be much infested with sleepy hearers. They might disbelieve the preacher, they might execrate his sentiments. They could not but hear them if in the house. He must have been doubly stupid, who, by any opiate or any magnetism, could get to sleep under some of the discourses and parts of discourses which proceed- ed from our author. Whoever, at such a time, might attempt to sink into . would not proceed far, before some crashing thunderbolt would com- pel him to open his eyes, and see what was happening. The roughness and ragged (mints of Mr. Clark's style were admirably adapted to keep the mind well spurred and jogged. Sometimes a sentence or paragraph would suddenly like a creat rasp across the audience. A sett u n may be ad- justed, and harmonized, and polished into perfect lameness and insipidity; the whole moves off, in a gentle, uniform, mellifluous Sow, which reaches and OF THE ACinOR. li stirs nobody, and which nobody cares for. " The words of the wise are as goads." Such should be a portion, at least, of the words of the preacher. Mr. Clark's person, voice, and entire manner were in perfect keeping with his style ; — a large masculine frame ; a voice harsh, strong, capable of great volume, though not very flexible ; an action, for the most part, ungraceful, but significant and natural ; a countenace bearing bold, strongly marked fea- tures, at every opening of which the waked and working passions would look intensely out ; then, thoughts and sentences such as we find in these volumes coming forth ; — all together gave the idea of huge, gigantic power. We were reminded often of some great ordnance, throwing terribly iis heavv shots. Who could, who dared go into unconsciousness before such an engine ? Mr. Clark had an unusual power of impressing the memory. Perhaps in nothing do preachers differ more than in this. We hear one deliver a ser- mon, and are very well pleased with it. It is made up of substantial and important matter. We endeavor at the time to give earnest heed to the things which we hear, lest we should let them slip. But somehow, do all we can, they will slip; soon the whole is utterly gone, and all that we can say about it is, that at such a time, we heard such a minister preach a ser- mon. We hear another ; we give no closer attention ; we are in no better mood. But the sermon inheres; parts of it, at least, are lodged within us too deeply and firmly to be thrown out by the rudest jostlings of amusement or business. Mr. Clark had this prime excellence of preaching, to an unusu- al degree. Those who listened to his preaching, a score of years back, find that they can remember a great deal that he said. They retain, doubtless, clear conceptions of entire discourses, which on their delivery ploughed deeply into their minds. The power of condensed, graphic enunciation, by which light, strength and beauty were combined and concentrated, in part enabled Mr. Clark to sink these fixtures in the memory. The power of moral painting, also of graphic presentation, which has been referred to, did much to give the adhesiveness in question. The truth, which we are made to see, we cannot forget, as we do the truth we only hear. The value of this power upon the memory in a preacher is not soon estimated. It helps him to insert the good seed beneath the surface, where the birds will not eat it up, nor the winds blow it away. Truth so inserted will often rise up and be thought of; conscience will reiterate the sermon in far future years. The Spirit may give it power ; so that it shall result in the conversion of the soul, after the voice, that originally preached it, shall be still in death. Mr. Clark frequently exhibited in his preaching the ability to make very strong religious impressions. His sermons were not in the strict sense re- vival sermons. They were never vaguely, loosely declamatory. There were no tricks of eloquence, no play upon the passions. There was, per- haps, too much sentiment, too much solid, searching truth in them for the greatest immediate movement and effect. His were not the right sort of loading and aim to do the most execution in a flock. His preaching was adapted rather to impress deeply a few minds than more slightly many minds. He did not operate upon the surface; he struck heavy and shook th« very foundations of the character. lii BIOGRAPHY It is sometimes said of a preacher that there is a great deal of Christ in his sermons. This is deemed, and it is, a high commendation. It was a commendatory trait in Mr. Clark's preaching, that there was a great deal of God in it. We think, as we have said, that his exhibition of the Divine character, at times, was not sufficiently mitigated. Still there is often placed before us, God, the great Sovereign and Agent, the subduer or the punisher of his foes, the unfailing protector of his people and his cause. God in his aw- ful glory and purity, man in the moral baseness of his character, — in the black and stormy elements of his depravity, — were placed clearly and terri- bly side by side. The effect produced was, in some instances, awful and overwhelming. Mr. Clark's preaching searched and incited the true disciple, pressing him up to a higher standard; it agitated and cut down the sinner, convincing him that there was no help in himself; it stripped and laid bare the hypocrite, bringing to his own view his own ugliness. Many of all classes, we doubt not, were persuaded by him to flee for refuge to lay hold upon the hope set before them, some of whom are now amid the conflicts of time, others amid the glories of eternity. Subordinate to the spiritual results, and quite inferior in worth, yet highly- valuable, was another effect of Mr. Clark's preaching. It wrought power- fully upon the intellect. It waked up the mind and set it to work. It was bracing; it made the hearer feel stronger than he felt before; he went out ready for achievement. We happen to be acquainted with those who acknowledge an indebtedness to Mr. Clark, in this respect, beyond what thev owe to any other living mind they ever came in contact with. They met him in their vernal and forming period. He interested them, he seized them, and bore them forward in a quickened and more robust growth, it is always, in some respects, an original and ascendent mind, that thus stimulates, and moulds, and makes stronger other minds. Mr. Clark's printed sermons have much of the same power. It was the significant query of Fox, respecting a noted speech, "Does it read well? Depend upon it, it was not a good speech, if it does not read well." Mr. Clark's sermons bear this test. Very many books of sermons have failed to bear this test, and in consequence have gone speedily to oblivion. In- deed, the fame of the preacher is very apt to be diminished, if not destroyed, by the service of the printer. It is no uncommon thing for plain, sensible people to have their swelling admiration of some corruscating preacher, whose name and glory have come awfully lowering to their conceptions, nearly withered and swept away by the unfortunate occurrence of their lighting upon a printed volume of his sermons. We fear no such result in the case of Mr. Clark. Indeed, he has passed this ordeal in safety. He has found many admiring readers of his sermons: persons of education, of good sense, of deep piety, have read and re-read with interest and profit. Others still will love to recur to them, and will feel that they are benefited by the perusal. These sermons will do good to the Christian in the closet, and to others, if they will read them. " No one, I presume," says a discriminating writer, remarking upon Mr. Clark, " whose conscience has ever been probed by his OF THE AUTHOR, Uii searching appeals, or whose heart has ever been warmed by his fervid and glowing piety or whose spirit has ever been overwhelmed by his melting eloquence, or whose sense of duty has ever been quickened by his forcible and practical illustrations, but must rejoice in the privilege of reading at his leisure, and praying over in secret, such productions of such a man." They will do good in the family. We like the suggestion, made by the au- thor in the preface to a previous edition, " That the parent, or some one se- lected by him, read aloud for the benefit of the family, after preparing himself to read with due emphasis and feeling." Have we not erred in laying aside the custom, so much practised by our fathers, of reading a sermon at stated seasons in the family ? There are many living witnesses to its spiritual and eternal benefit. Children and domestics have received truths and im- pressions which they never could rid themselves of, but which became the power of God to their salvation. Our fathers honored sermons — their de< scendants are getting to despise them. It is not well to do so. Admit these sermons to the family circle, and there allow them to preach to the conscience and the heart, and they will assuredly do good. They will do good also in the conference room, and in the Sabbath con gregation, where there is no minister present. Not all good sermons will answer for this service. Those who have had upon themselves the respon- sibility of these occasions, have been troubled to find discourses of that strong, graphic, penetrating character, which will arrest the mind, and be effective on the heart, as read from the printed page. Mr. Clark's sermons have been tried in this respect, and not been found wanting. Let them be tried again, and they will not disappoint expectation. Finally, these sermons are fitted to exert a wholesome influence upon the pulpit. We deem them good sermons for preachers to have intercourse with. If any have fallen into a miserable, mincing way of writing or speaking, let them read these sermons. If any have come so under the dominion of false or excessive taste, that they cannot say a thing out clear, straight, and strong, let them read these sermons. If they are affected with languor and tameness, as they stand in the pulpit, and afflict their hearers with the same oppressive qualities, let them read these sermons. If any are given to exquisitely fine spinning, or extravagantly high soaring, more in love with the sublimated than the sublunary, let them take in hand these coarser and weightier productions. They will do good by their astringency and impulsiveness. They will help to make closer, warmer, manlier preaching. We rejoice that the productions of Mr. Clark are now put forth in a form so convenient and neat ; for hereby, we believe, an important service is ren- dered to the cause of truth and of God. SERMONS. SERMON I. THE CHURCH SAFE. ISAIAH XLIX. 16. I have graven thee upon the palms uf my hands ; thy walls are continually before me. The Jewish Church, during her captivity, would be led to con- ceive that God had forsaken, had forgotten her. To effectually remove this impression, God by his prophet appeals to one of the tenderest relationships of life. " Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb 1. yea they may forget, yet will I not forget thee." Thus would he give to Zion, assurance of his unchangeable love. His people should multiply, till the land, where their foes destroyed them, should be too limited for their increased population. Kings and nations should serve them, and do them honor. Zion was dear to him as the apple of his eye. He would engrave her upon the palms of his hands ; her walls should be continually before him. In those days, it was the custom to paint upon the palms of the hands such objects as men wish to remember, in allusion to which custom God assures his people, that he had graven Zion upon the palms of his hands. Thus should her walls be continually before him ; he would not forget her a moment, nor suffer any foe to injure her. We have here a broad and sacred pledge, to be kept in mind by the people of God in all ages, and plead in their pray- ers, that he will foster and bless his Church, and will employ his vigilance and his power to secure her safety, and advance her honors. 6 42 THE CHPBCH S^FE. Thus is the Church safe, and the people of God need have no apprehensions, nor weep a tear, but over their own transgressions, and the miseries of that multitude, who will not be persuaded to take sanctuary in her bosom. I shall argue the safety of the church, from the firmness and stability of the divine operations ; from what God has already done for his Church ; what he is now domg ; and what he has promised to do. I. We assure ourselves, that the Church is sate, from the firmness and stability of the divine operations. I now refer, not merely to the unchangeableness of God, which will lead him to pursue for ever that plan which his infinite wisdom devised ; for that plan lies concealed from us ; but to that uniform and steady course with which he has pursued every enterprise which his hands have be- gun. That he is of the same mind, and that none can turn him, is a thought full of comfort ; but that he has finished every work which he took in hand is a fact, which intelligences have witness- ed, and one on which we may found our richest expectations. The worlds which he began to build he finished. Not one was left half formed and motionless. Each he placed in its orbit, gave it light, and laws, and impulse. And ever since this first develop- ment of the divine stability, the wheels of providence have rolled on with steady and settled course. What Omnipotence began whether to create or to destroy, he rested not till he had accom- plished. When he had become incensed with our world, and purposed its desolation, with what a firm and steady step did he go on to achieve his purpose. Noah builds the ark, and God prepares the fountains, which, at his word, burst from their entrenchments to drown an impious generation. How have suns kept their stations, and planets rolled in their orbits, by the steady pressure of the hand of God ; by their re- volutions measuring out the years of their own duration, and by their velocity urging on the amazing moment when they shall meet in dread concussion, and perish in the contact. How fixed their periods, their risings, their eclipses, their changes, and their transits. And while they roll, how uniform is the return of spring, summer, autumn, and winter. How certain every law of matter, gravitation, attraction, reflection, &c. The very comet, so long considered lawless, how is it curbed and reined in its ec- centric orbit, and never yet had power or permission to burn a sin- gle world. How sure is the fulfilment of prophecv. Ages intervening can THE CHURCH SAFE. -i3 not shake the certainty of its accomplishment. Jesus bleeds on Calvary four thousand years subsequently to the promise which that event accomplishes. Cyrus is named in the page of prophe- cy more than two hundred years before his birth, and at the destined moment becomes the Lord's shepherd, collects the lost sheep of the house of Israel, and builds Jerusalem. The Jews, as prophets three thousand years ago foretold, are yet in exile. The weeping prophet, now at rest, still sees the family he loved peeled and scattered, and the soil that drank his tears, cursed for their sins ; and confident that God is true, waits impatient the certain, but distant year of their redemption. Wretches that dare his power, God will not disturb his plan to punish. The old world flourished one hundred and twenty years after heaven had cursed that guilty race. Sodom was a fertile valley long after the cry of its enormities had entered into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth. The Amorites were allowed five hundred years to fill up the measure of their iniquity after God had pledged their land to Abram, although Israel wore away the intervening years in bondage. Many a murderer has been over- taken by the hand of justice, half a century past the time of the bloody deed. God will punish all the workers of iniquity, but he waits till the appointed moment. Like the monarch of the forest, he comes upon his enemies, conscious of his strength, with steady but dreadful steps. In his movements there is neither frenzy, pas- sion, nor haste. While his judgments linger, his enemies ask, " Where is the promise of his coming V but let them know, that he has appeared, and discomfited many a foe ; and the inference is that they must perish too. Whatever God begins, he finishes: no unseen embarrassment can turn his eye from his original purpose. Now the argument is, that as God has begun to erect a Church, he will act in this matter as in all others. If one of light character, a man given to change, had laid the foundation of some mansion, there would still be doubt whether it would ever receive its top- stone. But suppose his character exactly the reverse, and the moment he breaks the ground, imagination sees the mansion finish- ed : now only make God the builder and the argument is perfect. Whether we can trace his footsteps or not. he moves on to the accomplishment of his purpose with undeviating course. Every event, in aspect bright or dark, promotes the ultimate increase and establishment of his Church. Or shall this be the only enter- prise to which his wisdom, his power, or his grace, is inadequate \ 44 THE CHURCH SAFE. In this solitary instance shall he begin to build and not be able to finish \ What would be thought of him in hell, if the mystical temple should never receive its topstone 1 Its fires may go out, the worm may die, or some infernal genius bridge the gulf. Heaven too would lose all confidence in its King, and every harp be silent Thus before we examine the history of the Church, or read the promises, if we believe that God ever had a Church, we have the strongest possible presumptive evidence, that he will watch her in- terests, will feed the fires upon her altars, will bring her sons from far, and her daughters from the ends of the earth, and will never leave her, nor forsake her. " I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands ; thy walls are continually before me." II. Our expectations brighten when we see what God has done for his Church. My first argument went to show, that if God had only laid the corner-stone of this heavenly building, it would rise and be finished. We are now to view the building half erected, and from what has been done argue the certainty of its completion. The Church has been under the fostering care of heaven too long to be abandoned now. Let us retrace for a moment a few pages of her history, and we shall see that when the Church was low, he raised her ; when she was in danger, he saved her. Amid all the moral desolations of the old world, the Church never became extinct. And he at length held the winds in his fist, and barred the fountains of the deep, till Noah could build the ark, and the Church be housed from the storm. How wonderful were his interpositions when the Church was embodied in the family of Abraham ! In redeeming her from Egyptian bondage, how did he open upon that guilty land all the embrasures of heaven, till they thrust out his people. And he conducted them to Canaan by the same masterly hand. The sea divided, and Jordan rolled back its waters ; the rock became a pool, and the heavens rained them bread, till they drank at the fountains, and ate the fruits of the land of promise. Their gar- ments lasted forty years, and the angel Jehovah, in a cloud of light, led them through the labyrinths and dangers of the desert. When the Church diminished, and her prospects clouded over, he raised up reformers. Such were Samuel, and David, and Heze- kiah, and Josiah, and Daniel, and Ezra, and Nehemiah: such were all the prophets. Each in his turn became a master-builder, and the tempie rose, opposition notwithstanding. THE CHURCH SAFE. 45 Again, under the apostles, how did her prospects brighten. In three thousand hearts, under a single sermon, commenced the pro- cess of sanctification. The very cross proved an engine to erect her pillars; the flames lighted her apartments, and the blood of the martyrs cemented the walls of her temple, and contributed to its strength and beauty. Every dying groan alarmed the prince of hell, and shook the pillars of his dreary domain. But the Church again sunk, and hell presumed that her ruin would be soon achieved, when the sixteenth century lifted upon her the dawn of hope. In Luther, Calvin, Melancthon, and Zuing- lius, her interests found able advocates. They appeared at the very juncture when the sinking Church needed their courage and their prayers. Like some mighty constellation, which bursts from the east at the hour of midnight, they rose when moral darkness was almost total, and like that of Egypt could seem to be felt. By their aid the Church emerged from the wilderness. By their cou- rage her grand enemy was made to tremble on his ghostly tribu- nal. The power of the Pope had then outgrown the strength of every civil arm. Every monarch in Europe was at his feet. Till Luther rose no power could cope with him. There was a true Church, but she had no champion. The followers of Jesus paid for the privilege of discipleship with their blood. He who dared to be guided by his own conscience, committed an offence that could not be pardoned. The heavenly-minded saw no relief but in death, and thirsted for the honor of a martyrdom that would place them in a world where conscience might be free. But God ap- peared and redeemed his people. The theme is pleasant, but time would fail me to rehearse what God has done for his Church. Every age has recorded the interpositions of his mercy; and every hind where there is a remnant of his Church, bears some monu- ment that tells to his honor, and which will endure till the funeral of the world. Now the argument is, that he who has done so much for his Church will never abandon her. If he would float her above a drowning world, would redeem her from bondage, would escort her through the desert, would rain her bread from heaven, would reprove kings for her sake, would stop the sun to aid her victories ; with his smiles, light the glooms of her dungeon, and by his pre- sence cool the fires of the stake, there can be no fear for her safety. God will do just such things for Zion as he has done. "The thing that hath' been, it is that which shall be." His arm is not shortened, nor his ear heavy. The Church was never nearer his •16 THE CHURCH SAFE. heart than now. And he now hates her enemies as really as he did Pharaoh, Sennacherib, Nero, or Julian. He then governed the world for t lie sake of his Church ; and for her sake he governs it still. "The Lord's portion is his people." We know not that he ever had but one object in view in the events that have trans- pired in our world ; and that one the honor of his name in the re- demption of his people : and this object sways his heart still. The destruction of the enemy is a part of the same plan. Still may the Church invoke the Lord God of Elijah, may rest under the protec- tion of the God of Bethel, and wrestle with the Angel of Penuel. If she should be in bondage there will rise another Moses, another cloud will conduct her out of Egypt, and the same heavens will rain her manna. If darkness should overshadow her, there will be found among the sons she hath brought up, another Luther, Cal- vin, or Knox, to take her by the hand, to protect her honors, and recruit her strength. Shame on the Christian who knows her his- tory, and yet is afraid. Afraid of what % That God will cease to defend the apple of his eye 1 Afraid that the city graven upon the palms of his hands may be captured and destroyed ? If God continue to do such things as he has done, the Church with all her retinue is safe. " God is known in her palaces for a refuge." III. God is doing now just such things as he has done. We saw laid the corner stone, and drew thence our first argument. Then we saw the building half erected, and were furnished with a seco?id. We are now to view the edifice covered with builders, and from their exertions derive our third. We may now reason from things that our eyes can see. We may appeal for testimony to the very saw and hammer, and make the scaffold speak. It may be that some of my readers are not sensible in what a day of heavenly exploit they live. Do you know what amazing events are transpiring 1 Have you learned that Bible societies are forming in every part of Christendom] and that the Scriptures are now read in perhaps a hundred languages, in which, till lately, not a text of inspired truth was ever written ? Do you know that the late editions of God's word have commenced their circulation, are traversing the desert, taming the savage, and pouring celestial light on eyes that never met its beams before ! Do you know the prevalence of a missionary spirit ? [lave you learned that youth of the first character, of the fairest pros- pects, and of both sexes, aspire to be missionaries of the cross"? Some have gone, and others wait impatiently till your charity shal1 THE CHURCH SAFE. 47 send them. Many a mother has devoted her daughter to the work, and waits for opportunity to give her the parting kiss ; and many a daughter, on whom has fallen Harriet's mantle, aches to visit her tomb, and rest under the same turf till Jesus bids them rise. And what daughter of Zion is not ambitious of a martyrdom like hers * How numerous and extensive the revivals, which at present we witness in our land \ Even where there is no stated ministry, the showers of grace descend, and the waste places are made fertile. What other page of the Church's history, but the present, could record an almost universal concert of prayer 1 Christians of every continent employing the same hour in the same supplications. How unparalleled the success of every Christian enterprise ! No plan of mercy ever fails. The active Christian is amazed at the result of his own exertions. Much that God is now doifig is evidently preparatory to future operatio?is. Bible and missionary societies may be viewed as the accumulated energies of the Church. Hitherto our exertions have been insulated and feeble. The little streams fructified the plains through which they flowed, but could easily be dammed or evaporated ; but their junction has formed a mighty river, destined to penetrate every moral desert, and carry civilization to every province of our desolated world : fed with the showers of heaven, and every day flowing on with deeper and broader channel, the wilds of Arabia, the heaths of Africa, and the plains of Siberia, can oppose no effectual barrier to its influence. What age but ours was ever blessed with Theological Semina- ries, where might be reared at the expense of charity, young evangelists, to go out and carry the bread of life to a starving world X Fortunes, collected for other purposes, are poured into the treasury of the Lord, and thus are erected batteries to demo- lish the strong-holds of the prince of hell. Jehovah bless their founders ! Churches and congregations, who, in seasons of coldness, grudged to support the gospel at home, are now equipping young- men for the missionary field, and for their own edification. And it lias at length become so disreputable to stand idle in these mat- ters, that the man who would save his money, feels himself in danger of losing his chracter. Not long since, young men of piety and talents, who longed to fight the battles of the Lord, must equip themselves, and then find poor support in service. But now the scale is turned. Where there is no fortune but piety, a thirst for knowledge, and a talenl 48 THE CHURCH SAFE. to improve, the way is now open to all the honors of the camp of Israel The pious mother, who can only drop her two mites into the treasury of the Lord, but whose example and whose prayers have saved her son, may bring her Samuel to the altar, to be fed from its offerings, and reared to all the honors of the prophetic office. While I am yet writing, hope springs up, and a joy not felt in ages past, thrills through all the habitations of pious poverty. The late revivals possess one peculiar characteristic. There have been among their fruits an unusual number of males. When there was little else that could be done for Zion, but pray and weep, and love her doctrines, and glow with heavenly affections, the feebler sex could furnish the Christian world with soldiers. But now, when the kingdom of darkness must he stormed, Zion needs the aid of her sons, and God, it would seem, accommodates the operations of his Spirit to the interests of his Church. Paul was not converted till his help was needed, and it was not needed till the gospel was to be carried to the Gentiles. Every revival of late contradicts that libel long legible on the records of infidelity, that religion evinces its emptiness by its exclusive operation upon the feebler part of our race. Recently the strong and muscular, the very champions of the host of hell, have fallen before the power of truth, and are harnessed for its defence. Moreover, men of science, and of strong mind, have in their own esteem become fools, and have sat down to learn truth at a Savior's feet. Our late revivals have penetrated schools and colleges. Satan's cause has been well pleaded, and God now intends to plead his own : and palsied will be the tongue that is silent. Does God without design raise up these instruments 1 Would one pass through a whole kingdom, and employ every skilful me- chanic, unless he intended to erect some mighty edifice 1 If, then, we see God enlisting men in his service, men of strength and science, does he not intend to achieve some wondrous design 1 Assuredly the heavenly building will rise. These talents will be, and they are already employed in extending Emanuel's empire. India, with other benighted lands, has already received our missionaries, and her Moloch, with all his cursed family of gods, sicken at theii prospect. The dark places of his empire have been explored, and the sceptre begins to tremble in his palsied hand. And poor Afri ca, more debased still, has found a tongue to plead her cause Conscience, long asleep, and deaf to her rights has waked, and now, her sons, fed at the table of charity, are preparing to carry TTE CHURCH SAFE. 49 her the bread of life. My country, deeper in her debt than all other lands, has begun to pay its long arrears. Who could have hoped, a few years since, that he should ever see a day like this ! If, twenty years since, one had told me that sixty years would so electrify the Christian world, I should have believed him visionary, and, like the unbelieving Samaritan, should have pronounced it impossible, unless God should make windows in heaven, and rain Bible and Missionary Societies from above : but God has done it all without a miracle. And blessed be his name — will my readers join me in the thank-offering! — blessed be his name, that he cast us upon such an age as this. Blessed be his name, that we were not born a century sooner. Then we had never seen the dawn of this millenial morning, nor heard the glad tidings which now reach us by every mail, nor had an opportunity, as now, to purchase for our offspring, an interest in the Lord's fund. Charity was then in a deep sleep. India bowed to her idols, and Africa wore her chains, unpitied and unrelieved. Buchanan and Wilberforce, angels of mercy, were then unborn. Infidelity then desolated the fairest provinces of Christendom, and wars were the applauded achievements of states and empires. But the age of infidelity has gone by, and the bloody clarion has breathed out, I hope, its last accursed blast. Events are tran- spiring which bid fair to bind all nations in the bonds of love. I had read of such a period, but how could I hope to see it 1 The present repose of nations augurs well for the Church. Christen dom can now unite her efforts to evangelize the Avorld, while the sailor and the soldier have leisure and opportunity to read the precious Scriptures. And must not all this put our unbelief to the blush, and cover us with shame1. The past twenty years have so outdone our highest hopes, as to render it impossible to predict what twenty more may do. God has begun to work on a scale new and grand ; and the inference is that he will go on. After what we have seen, we could hardly be surprised if twenty years to come should put the Bible into every language under heaven, and should send missionaries, more or less, to every benighted district of earth. Let benevolent exer- tion increase in the ratio of the past seven years, and God add his blessing, and half a century will evangelize the world, tame the lion and the asp, and set every desert with temples, devoted to the God of heaven. When the bosom of charity shall beat a little stronger, if there should be the necessity, men will sell houses or farms to save the heathen from hell ; and the child will sit down 7 30 THE CHURCH S.AFE. and weep, who may not say, that his father and mother were the friends of missions. And what parent would entail such a curse upon his children, and prevent them from lifting up their heads in the millennium. I had rather leave mine toiling in the ditch, there to enjoy the luxury of reflecting, that a father's charity made them poor. Poor ! They are poor who cannot feel for the miseries of a perishing world ; to whom God has given abundance, but who grudge to use it for his honor. Teach your children charity, and they can never be poor. " The liberal soul shall be made fat, and he that watereth shall be watered also himself." Can this promise fail 1 Then we can all leave our children rich, and the heirs too of a fortune they can never squander. We can purchase for them the privilege of drawing upon the exhaustless resources of heaven. What a privilege now to be a parent ! But I must return to the argument. God is doing so much for his Church, as to warrant the inference that he will do still more. The hopes he raises he will gratify. The prayer he indites he will answer. To see what God is doing, I find it impossible to doubt his intentions. The present is a prelude to brighter scenes. God would not have done so much for his people had he intended to abandon them. The Church will live and prosper. Instead of trembling for the ark, let us weep that we ever thought it in danger. IV. We build the same expectations on the promises and pro- phecies. The building which we see rising God has promised to finish. He has all the materials ; the silver and the gold are his. He has enlisted the builders, and prepared the necessary instru- ments. The decree has gone forth that Jerusalem must be built, and God will redeem his own gratuitous pledge: he will do as he lias said. Early in the reign of Emanuel there will be universal peace. The nations are to " beat their swords into plough-shares, and their spears into pruning hooks." " The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the hid." " They shall not hurt nor destroy in all " God's " holy mountain." " They shall sit, every man under his vine, and under his fig-tree; and none shall make them afraid." But " the gospel must first be published among all nations." On this promise there pours at present a stream of heavenly light. The angel, " having the everlasting gospel to preach unto them that dwell on the earth," is beginning to publish it "to every na- tion, and kindred, and tongue, and people." Kings are to be to THE CHURCH SAFE 51 the Church nursing- fathers, and queens nursing mothers ; and they have already taken hold of the work with interest. Their charity their influence, and their prayers, have already contributed to deepen and widen the channel of that river which is making glad the city of God. In the progress of this work a nation shall be born in a day. The instance of Eimeo may be considered as em- braced in this promise. " Thy watchmen shall see eye to eye." This promise has commenced its accomplishment in the harmony manifested in the formation and support of Sabbath schools, and Bible and Missionary Societies. The Jews are to return to their land, and to the God of their fathers. There shines some light upon this promise. Many are at present migrating to Palestine from the north of Europe ; some have been converted to the faith of Jesus, many not converted are members of Bible societies, and exertions unparalleled are making to bring them to the light, while individuals of their number are proclaiming to their deluded brethren the unsearchable riches of Christ. Soon the Bible will supplant the Talmud. " Ethiopia shall soon stretch out her hands unto God." Who does not see this promise fast accomplishing 1 Her chains are falling and her mind expanding. There have commenced a train of operations that promise the richest blessings to the children of Ham. Soon the Gambia, the Niger, and the Nile, will grace their shore with Christian temples, will lend their waters to fertilize a gospel land, and bear to his station the zealous missionary In the mean time the wretched Arab, exchanging his Koran for the Bible, and tamed, by its influence, to honest industry, will settle the quarrel with the family of Jacob, and worship in the same temple. If we turn to the threatenings against the enemies of the Church, there open before us large fields of promise. Like the cloud that severed Pharaoh's hosts from Israel they pour impenetrable dark- ness into the camp of the enemy, while they light the tents of Ja- cob. " The day of the Lord shall burn as an oven, and all the proud, yea, and all that do wickedly, shall be stubble, and the day that cometh shall burn them up, saith the Lord ; that it shall leave them neither root nor branch." Perhaps the complicated miseries which began in the French Revolution, and were finished at Wa- terloo, might commence the accomplishment of this threatening. But doubtless other storms will yet beat upon the camp of the enemy, more tremendous than anything which they have yet ex- perienced. Some believe that the fifth vial has not yet been pour- 52 THE CHURCH SAFE. ed out upon the seat of the beast ; and all agree that the forty and two months, during which the holy city must be trodden under foot, are not yet expired. It is acknowledged that the period is twelve hundred and sixty years, and that it commenced with the reign of the beast, and will probably terminate in the present cen- tury. Possibly our dear children may live to see the precious moment that shall close the period. Then the messenger of the covenant shall make his glorious ingress, shall destroy his ene- mies, shall purify the sons of Levi, and cleanse the offering of Ju- dah. Then the knowledge of the Lord shall cover the earth as the waters cover the sea. Jesus shall take possession of the in- heritance promised, " and his dominion shall be from sea even to sea, and from the river even to the ends of the earth." Can the dejected Christian read all this, and believe it all, and despondingly weep still 1 And for what does he weep 1 God has begun to erect a heavenly temple j the work has never stopped, and he promises that it never shall. He never did abandon any work which he began, nor did there ever drop from his lips a pro- mise that was not, or will not be fulfilled. And what more can he do 1 Christian, you may weep on, but let your tears be tears of penitence or joy. Every harp should be snatched from the wil- lows, new joys should be felt, and new anthems sung in all the as- semblies of the saints. He that shall come, will come, and will not tarry ; and every bosom should respond, " Even so, come Lord Jesus, come quickly." ' APPLICATION. 1. If to any it is a burden to join in the general concert of prayer for Zion's increase, they can excuse themselves, and the glorious work will still go on. There are those who consider the duty a privilege. If the Church could live without them, and duty- did not prompt them to pray, they would weep to be denied the privilege of bearing her interests to the throne, and of waiting for the redemption of Israel. Such may wait still upon the Lord, and may wait with confidence, that every prayer will be answered, every tear preserved, and every hope accomplished. But are there those who would wish to be excused from this service 1 who have no pleasure in the duty, and no faith in the promises 1 Well, they can act their pleasure, and the Church will live. But, whether such will have any share in the glories of that kingdom, whose approach they dread, "demands a doubt." 2. If any grudge to contribute of their wealth, for the advance- THE CHURCH SAFE. 53 ment of the Church, they can withhold. If they have a better u*-e for their money, or dare not trust the Lord, there is no com pul- sion. Some happy beings will have the honor of the work. It is to be accomplished by the instrumentality of men, and if any are willing- to be excused, and insist on doing nothing, they can use their pleasure. And if such would ruin their children, by holding them back, they can. They can form them to such habits that the world will never be disturbed by their munificence. They can prejudice them against all the operations of Christian charity ; can make them deaf to the cry of the six hundred millions ; can keep them ignorant of what the Christian world is doing, and what God has commanded them to do. And there can then be very little doubt but they will have children in their own likeness. But whether God will not finally lay claim to their wealth, and cause it to be expended in beautifying his holy empire, we dare not as- sert. The silver and the gold are his. But the work will go on. Once our fears on the subject were great. We doubted whether the Christian world would ever give the heathen the gospel. But our fears are removed. We have now no apprehension as to the issue, and can only pity those who are blind to their duty, their interest, their honor, and their hap- piness. 3. If any are willing to remain out of the kingdom of Christ, they can act their pleasure in this matter too, and yet the marriage supper will be full. The kingdom of Christ will be large enough ; large as he expected, large as he desired, large as the Father pro- mised ; large enough to gratify the infinite benevolence of his heart. If any do not wish to live in heaven, the mansions they might have filled will be occupied by others. The celestial choir will be full, and the name of Jesus will receive its deserved ap- plauses from myriads who shall be redeemed from every nation, kindred, tongue, and people. If sinners can do without God, he can do without them. They wi.ll not be forced, reluctantly, to the marriage supper of the Lamb. There will be enough who will come willingly. Heaven will be as happy as it would be if more were saved. And the prison of despair will contain exactly that number, whose ruin will exhibit to the best advantage the character of Jehovah : and the smoke of their torment, which shall ascend up for ever and ever, will form a stupendous column, on which will be written, legible to all heaven, HOLINESS, JUSTICE, TRUTH. The vast accession made to the Church in the late revivals, and 5-i THE CHURCH SAFE. the still greater increase in the future years ol millennial glory, will swell the number of the saved beyond all calc illation. Sinners who now join the multitude, and are thus secured from present reproach, will soon find themselves attached to an insignificant and despicable minority. It would seem at present that the num- ber of the lost will be great, but you may multiply them beyond the power of human enumeration, and still there is no fear but the number of the saved will be greater. If any, then, would prefer to remain out of the kingdom, they have their choice, and the shame and ruin will be their own. God intends to let them do as they please, and those who love his kingdom most, anxious as they now are for the salvation of their fellow-men, will at last be satisfied with the number of the saved. We invite none to become the subjects of Christ's kingdom, but those who will esteem his yoke easy and his burden light. 4. If any should be disposed to enter into league with the lost, angels, and oppose the Church, they can do so, and still the Church will live. Earth and hell united, can make no effectual opposition to her interests. God is in the midst of his people, and will help them, and that right early. In these circumstances, one shall chase a thousand, and two put ten thousand to flight. Some opposition is necessary to awaken her energies. Solomon was seven years building the first temple, when all was peace ; but Ezra, with the trowel in one hand, and the sword in the other, could build the second in four. The enemy has always promoted the interest he wished to destroy. God will make the Avrath of man to praise him, and the remainder of wrath he will restrain. If any would make opposition to the growing interests of Emanu- el, they can ; but they will accomplish their own ruin, and perhaps the ruin of their children. It never was so dangerous as now to be the enemy of Christ's kingdom. All such must be crushed under the wheels of that car, in which the Son of God is riding in triumph through a conquered empire. To make opposition is as unavailing as if a fly should make an effort to stop the sun. There await the enemies of the cross, certain defeat, shame, and ruin. " He made a pit, and digged it, and is fallen into the ditch which he made. His mischief shall return upon his own head, and his violent dealings shall come down upon his own pate." In the mean time the Church is safe. " Fear not, little flock ; for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom." 5. Fathers and brethren in the ministry, this subject will raise your hopes. Are you stationed where it is all darkness around THE CHURCH SAFE. 55 you, and have the hosts of hell alarmed you 1 cheer up your hearts. Try to penetrate the surrounding darkness, and you will soon be convinced that your fears are ill-timed. Speak to the children of Israel, that they go forward. If night does seem to hover about us, still is it manifest that the day has dawned upon the hills. The Church has never been in danger, and we ought to be ashamed of our fears. Be at your watch-tower, dear brethren ; turn your eye to the east, and you will soon descry the light. If there is any truth in the promise, and if a thousand transpiring events can speak, we shall soon have opportunity to hail Emanuel at his second coming. If our courage fails us in a day like this, we have only to lie down and die with shame. While the victory was doubtful, you might be afraid, and yet save your character, but none are afraid now but the coward. Shall we hesitate to die, if necessary, in securing a victory already gained ; and to gain which the Captain of our salvation, and many of his soldiers have spilt their blood 1 Our missionary brethren have carried the standard of the cross, and planted it within the entrenchments of the enemy, and their courage has not failed ; and shall we tremble in the camp 1 We shall then have no share in the spoil. Dear brethren, I will not insult you ; you are not afraid j you will die at your post, and the victory will be secured. 6. Dear Christian brethren, you see the royal canopy which your Lord casts over your heads ; or rather the shield he spreads before you. If you are not officers in the camp of Israel, you are soldiers; if you may not command, you may fight, but not with carnal weapons. Let the subject raise your courage. A few more conflicts and your toils are ended ; the Church is safe, and you are safe. Only believe, and soon you will see the salvation of God. And as the Savior approaches, and you see him, you may say with the prophet, " Lo, this is our God ; we have waited for him, and he will save us : this is the Lord j we have waited for him, we will be glad and rejoice in his salvation." SERMON II. NOTHING SAFE BUT THE CHURCH. DEUTERONOMY XXXII. 9. The Lord's portion is his people; Jacob is the lot of his inheritance. When God exhibits himself, as the portion of his people, we feel no surprise. He can be to them all they need, can gratify all their wants, and all their hopes. But what can his people be or do for him 1 How can they so rise in his estimation, that he shall style them his portion and his inheritance1. The God who has built a thousand worlds, who thunders in the heavens, and holds the stars in his right hand ; can he value his people above them all 1 And yet this precious truth is prominent in the text, and is demonstrated, by the whole course of providential events, since the creation of the world. If that is the dearest to God which cost him most, as is often the fact in our history, then indeed there is an obvious reason for the truth of the text. Worlds took being at his word, and will perish at his bidding, but he redeemed his people with the life of his Son ; hence his high regard for them. And hence a reason for all he intends to do for them in futurity. He will guide them with his counsel, and afterward receive them to glory. Hence to God's people the text contains a very precious truth God has selected from the works of his hands, as what shall stand the highest in his estimation, his redeemed people. Not that he has alienated his right to any thing. Every world that he has built is his, and his foes are his. But in his Church he will take peculiar pleasure. He will employ all his energies to make his people happy, and himself happy in them. This was his purpose when he built the creation, and when fully accomplished, " The heavens shall be rolled together as a scroll, and the earth and the works that are therein shall be burned up." But there is a truth implied in this text of solemn and dreadful import. It makes worthless every thing in this world, but the N0THIXG SAFE BUT THE CHURCH. o"t church of God. And what is worthless is not safe. Hence I pur- pose to illustrate this doctrine, There is nothing safe but the church. My intention is to look at facts, ancient and modern, together with what God assures us shall transpire in future ; all going to show, that while God has always cared, for his Church, he never did place intrinsic value upon any thing else. I. / notice ancient facts. When the world was built, it is be- lieved to have exhibited to the eye of its Maker unniingled beauty ; and would seem to us to have had intrinsic value. But it was only holiness that God valued. Sin entered, lt Earth felt the wound, and nature from her seat, Sighing through all her works, gave signs of wo, That all was lost." There were then generated the thorn and the thistle, and the curse of God lighted upon every part of this creation. A holy God could set no value upon a world bereft of moral rectitude. It would not have been surprising, had he destroyed it, and built another, to be filled with beings who would obey his law, and be worthy of his kind regards. But his wisdom devised a remedy, and he set up in that apostate family a Church, whose interest has ever since then given to every thing else its price. When the Church increased, the world was valuable, and when it diminished, the world became in the estimation of God comparatively a pile of stubble. Cast one look at the antedeluvian history. The Church had dwindled to a point, and became at length embosomed in a single family. To save that family no pains were spared; but all else, men and things, except what was needed to feed the floating Church, and enable his people to cultivate and stock the new world, perished. Wealth and magnificence had now lost their value. If God had pleased, he could have avenged himself of his adversaries, and still have spared that vast amount of wealth, which perished in their overthrow. But why do it 1 The treasures of the old world had ceased to be valuable, when the Church was gone. Their innumerable cities, walled up to heaven, and filled with precious things, were all swept away. How wonderful, to see Jehovah restrain the deluge one hundred and twenty years after his purpose to destroy had gone out, till the ark was pre- pared, his long-sutfering evinced, and a happy family housed from the impending desolation ! This done, he collected into that 8 58 NOTHING SAFE BUT THE CHURCH. house of safety all that was valuable, his little Church and what they needed to sustain them during the solitary year, their food and raiment, and the materials for reanimating- the new world. He could then smile at the tempest, and stimulate the storm. O how great is God out of his holy place ! How sadly unsafe are that people, and those treasures that have no connection with his kingdom ! There was offered another argument in support of the same truth on the plains of Sodom. A branch of the true Church had been located in that dissolute valley, and was at length in danger of being swallowed up in the gulf of depravity. The population was too wealthy to be wise, had too much of the meat that perish- eth, to regard that meat that endureth to everlasting life. The Watchman of Israel, as he surveyed the devoted plain, saw his whole Church in a single house, and what was his he saved, but swept away the residue. The abandoned population, their palaces, their gold, their merchandize, their flocks and harvest, their gaudy apparel, and all their guilty instruments of idolatry and lust, were in God's account of no value, were no part of his inheritance. The moment Lot was gone, the guard that kept the plain was called in. It will not be denied that God could have avenged upon that guilty community his broken law, and still have spared their riches, but these had no value when his Churches had retired. If Lot or Abraham could have been more holy or more happy, God would have spared them the treasures he consumed. But he chose here to display his vindictive justice, and create them other and bet- ter comforts. All that in his estimation was valuable, he saved. So in the land of Egypt, God collected his people into Goshen, and there spread a canopy over them, while he poured out his plagues upon their oppressors. Out of that little territory, there was nothing in all that idolatrous land, on which he seems to have placed the smallest value. Its population, having filled up the cup of their iniquity, and their monuments of grandeur, and skill, and op- pression, were the merest vanity. The life or liberty of one be- lieving child of Abraham out-priced them all. Hence over his precious fold he placed one hand, while with the other he wrote Tekel upon the walls of Egypt, and spread desolation and death through its fields and its streets. The plagues I know raged un- der the divine control: but they might destroy any where except in Goshen. So at the Red sea the surest laws of nature were suspended, for NOTHIJSG SAFE BUT THE CHURCH. 59 the deliverance of Israel ; while the pursuing enemy seems to have been as worthless, in the esteem of Israel's God, as their beasts and their chariots. When the Church had reached the Arabian shore, and the rear-rank was out of danger, God suffered the raging waters to find their level. He had saved his people, and there was nothing else to save. The Egyptian army were God's enemies, and their overthrow an act of retributive justice, and while the tender heart bleeds over the grave of that ill-fated multitude ; we are not forbidden in the midst of our tears, to reason on the palpable insecurity thus shown us of all but the Church of God. He would open a path through the deep for his people, but would not employ his power to hold back the sea a moment longer than the safety of his Church required. So the Amorites and Moabites melted away in in their contest with Israel. And the Canaanites, when the family of Abraham needed their lands, were the merest stubble, and the breath of the Lord consumed them. They cried to their gods, but they perish- ed in the midst of their devotions : their idols could not save them. There even went out in behalf of Israel this edict, " The kingdom and nation that will not serve thee shall perish." Thus the world was taxed for the benefit of the Church. Nations held their existence on the sole condition, that they should be found useful to Israel, and perished when God ceased to have need of them. "I gave Egypt for thy ransom, Ethiopia and Seba for thee." Now as we travel down the tract of ages, we shall find constant illustrations of the fact that God values nothing else but his Church. This one interest, as far as God has been seen to ope- rate in this world, appears to have engrossed his whole care. The Church is that monument which has stood and told his glory to every new-born generation. Other kingdoms, rapid in their rise, and dominant in their power, have gone rapidly into oblivion, and heaven has kept no very careful record of their obsequies. The Assyrian, the Medo-Persian, the Grecian, and Roman empires, with all their multitudes, their wealth, their science, and their mili- tary prowess, have perished in the wreck of time ; while through all these periods not a promise of God to his people has failed, nor a pious hope been unaccomplished. The little stone, cut out of the mountain, without hands, has become a great mountain, while the rock, from which it was hewn, is seen to crumble and perish. Empires dazzling in the eye of man, but inimical to the Church of Christ, were worthless in the esteem of God. Their proud sta- tues, their triumphal arches ; their mausoleums, their heroes and 60 NOTHING SAFE BUT THE CHURCH. their gods, he swept away with the hesom of destruction. Baal, Dagon, Moloch, and Jupiter have perished with their hosts of worshippers, while not a saint has wept unnoticed, nor a prayer remained unanswered. Not for one moment has God forgotten his covenant, while he has thus swept away from time, and life, whatever that covenant did not include. In that darkest hour of Israel's history, the seven thousand who had not bowed the knee to Baal, God loved and comforted with his presence ; felt all their oppressions, reproved kings for their sake, put their tears into his bottle, and minuted all their wrongs, that he might apportion to each, in the coming life, his appropriate weight of glory. And the archives of heaven can never be lost. The history of every suffering believer is writ- ten as with the point of a diamond on a rock, and will remain legi- ble in the day of retribution. But I must return from this digression. I am giving you the sad history of what was not the Church. There came a period when Jerusalem changed its relationship to God. The Church's light went out, and the religion of the sanctuary was reduced to unmeaning and polluted ceremonies. The house of prayer for all nations, became a den of thieves. From that moment the interest which God had taken in the holy city and sanctuary was alienated. No longer would God be known in palaces of Zion for a refuge. The people of Jerusalem had become as worthless as those of Moab or Edom. Then the moment was, that God could without regret see their city demolished, and the last stone of their proud temple thrown down. He loved his people, and loved Jerusalem, and the temple, while they were holy : but when the priesthood became corrupted, and the temple profaned, and the divine glory forsook the mercy-seat, he then abandoned the consecrated spot, as being no longer a section of his inheritance, and suffered the hedges of his vineyard to be broken down. And he now cares no more for the holy land, than for other lands. If the time shall come again that his covenant people shall be there, walking in his statutes, he will build again the walls he has thrown down, and render Jerusalem a theatre of his glory. Up to that hour, Syria and Egypt, shall be as sacred as Canaan ; and the stones and dust of his temple be as uninteresting and unholy, as the ruins of de- molished Babylon ; a place of dragons and of owls. 11. I come now to look at modem facts, expecting to find here '.he same testimony, as in past events, to the truth of the doctrire, NOTHING SAFE BUT THE CHURCH. 61 that nothing but the Church is safe. In the convulsions of our times, we have seen everything' placed at hazard, but the Church of our Lord Jesus Christ. Every revolution demonstrates thpt God has no other interest in our world. In the past half century how low a price has he set upon crowns and kingdoms. And the lives of armies, composed generally of ungodly men, how unwor- thy have they seemed of his care. The fowls of heaven fatten upon their bodies, and the soil is enriched with their blood. The thousands that fell at Waterloo, if impenitent, were in the estimate of heaven as worthless as the clods that covered them. But if there died in that murdered multitude a pious soldier, angels will watch his ashes till he rise, and God be more interested in the turf that covers him, than in the splendid monument that stands upon the tomb of the hero. An empire of his enemies is in God's esteem of more trifling amount than one obscure believer. The hosts that have died in the fields of modern battle, perished be- cause the Church had no farther use for them. Else that promise would not be true, "All things are yours, whether Paul, or Apol- los, or Cephas, or the world." And well may we ask with the poet, " What are the earth's wide kingdoms else, But mighty hills of prey ?" In all this a believer will find no mystery. The Bible and the Spirit of God have taught him, that nothing has intrinsic worth but holiness, and that God can place no value upon what is worth- less. Hence he lets loose his winds, Avhich go teeming forth with desolation. Navies are wrecked upon the reefs, and cities torn from their base. Earthquakes spread the cry of death, and open a thousand graves at a shock. Kingdoms are shaken, and Avhole islands, with their wealth, and pride, and enterprise, sink into the opening gulf. The wealth of ages perishes in the twinkling of an eye, and with it talents, eloquence, wisdom, science, the curiosities of antiquity, and the close kept records of a hundred generations. All this time the promise holds to God's people, "No evil shall come nigh thee." Things are rich and splendid in the view of men, which weigh nothing in the account of God. If one saint must share in the general calamity, him the Lord watches with his eye, supports him in death, and lightens the glooms of his sepul- chre. But men who have filled up their cup, and the wealth that brought their perdition, all these God values at nothing. The fact is, and no fact is more interesting, the world was built 62 NOTHING SAFE BUT THE CIIUKCIT for the use of the Church. Holiness only, and tint which pro- motes holiness, are valuable. The walls and hedges of a vineyard, are useful while there are vines to protect, and may be burned or demolished when the vines are withered. Kingdoms have been built and perished, and armies been congregated and slaughtered, to serve the interests of the Church. Hence, said the apostle, " He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all things!" Hence to Zion's interest bends every other, is decreed every re- volution, contributes every storm, rolls every ocean, and flows every tide. Earth is barren or fruitful as her interests require. As on the whole kingdom of Israel it might not rain for two and forty months, when God"s people needed the protection of a judg- ment so long protracted, so may we presume that at the call of Zion's interests, God now withholds, or imparts blessings. The amount of the whole is, that nothing has value, that does not contribute to advance the one interest which God has made paramount in this world. Royal blood, when the king is not his servant, is base and degenerate. The blood of David he watched with care, knew every artery in which it flowed, for he had pro- mised to his seed the throne of Israel : but the blood of Saul be- came petrified in its channels. The blood of saints and martyrs is royal, the blood of prophets and apostles ; for these he hath pro- mised, shall sit on thrones, and wear crowns of glory that shall never fade. Thus arc the passing ages gleaned of every relic that belongs to the saints, and when the gleanings are finished, the stubble is promptly consumed. The world is still under tribute to Zion, as in the ages that have gone by, and we must leave it with God to say, whether he will relax the rigor of his requisi- tions, till all the nations have perished, and the redeemed are all brought home to heaven. I am to look, III. Jit the events which God has assured us shall transpire hereaf- ter. If by the light of promise and of prophecy we look into futu- rity, God is still seen in the attitude of fostering his Church, and overlooking every other interest. The kingdoms of this world are to become the kingdoms of our Lord. Holiness to the Lord is to be written upon the bells of the horses, as if to teach us that nothing shall exist, but that which is consecrated to God. The highest offices of state are to become subservient to the interests of Zion. Kings are to be nursing fathers, and queens nursing mothers to the Church. It is evident, on almost every page of the NOTHING SAFE BUT THE CHURCI . 63 prophecies, that Zion's interests are one day to absorb all other interests. The world seems already to be shaping itself to become one holy empire under the Prince of peace. 1 would be neither an in fidel nor an enthusiast ; but would fear all that God has threaten ed, and expect all that he has promised. I read, "Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the earth ;" this promise I calculate will be verified. 1 read again, "The wicked shall be turned into hell, and all the nations that forget God ;" this threatening 1 would fear. The wealth which men would not expend in blessing Zion will perish in the using. Pearls worth each a kingdom, God in- tends shall be melted down in the last conflagration. When the Church shall need their aid no longer, sun, moon, and stars will lose their fires and their light. The heavens and the earth which are now, as we are assured by the word of God, are kept in store, reserved unto fire against the day of judgment, and perdition of ungodly men. Thus I see the grand system consummated. But through all these scenes, and even this last, God will be kind to his people. He will not usher in that period, till the last believer is sanctified. The orb of day will continue in full blaze, till the last pilgrim is lighted home. When Christ has opened the portals of everlasting life upon the rearmost of the ransomed mul- titude, then the lights of heaven will go out. Christ will wake his people, and bid them escape to heaven, before the last fires are kindled. Thus to the last the Church is safe, and nothing else. This one interest God ever made his care, and it will continue to be his care for ever. REMARKS. 1. If it should be objected to this reasoning, that there have been periods when the Church seemed unsafe, while its foes were safe; it may be replied, that the Church still lives, and, therefore, up to this time has been safe, while every other interest has been placed at hazard. All the ancient foes of Zion, who for a time seemed to prosper, have gone to their own place. Scarcely a trace of those kingdoms, which employed their power to destroy the Church of God, can now be found. And her individual foes, unless convert- ed into friends, have all perished, or we see them on their way to perdition. On this point we have the direct testimony of God. Moreover, we have never seen Jehovah make bare his arm for the destruction of his Church, as of her foes. He has often rebuked 64 NOTHING SAFE BUT THE CHURCH. his people when they sinned, but they repented, and he forgave them. " In a little wrath he hid his face from them for a moment ; but with everlasting kindness he had mercy on them." Not so with their enemies. God has swept them away as with the besom of destruction. The storms of wrath came down upon them, and they did not repent till God had utterly destroyed them. It was not with them a temporary rebuke and then mercy, but an utter consumption. Thus the two cases infinitely differ. 2. If it be objected that the subject exhibits God as indifferent to the welfare of some part of the human family ; we reply, he will do none of his creatures wrong. The objection arises from view- ing sin as a calamity rather than a crime. If wicked men deserve only wrath, God, in destroying them, does right. Moreover, God offers all men his love, and a sure sanctuary with his people. If they will not have him to reign over them, then God will appear gracious, while he provides for those who trust in him, and just and holy while he leaves all others to eat the fruit of their doings, and be filled with their own devices. 3. Let me suggest that "all are not Israel who are of Israel." While we have thus celebrated the safety of the Church, and have seen all else in danger, let it be remembered that it is the Church invisible. If a false profession would secure us, the way to heaven would be the broad way. But when any section of the visible Church became corrupt, it perished. A false professor is of no more value in the esteem of God, than an infidel. Judas and Julian had a seat among the disciples, but their ruin was none the less prompt and consummate. It is holiness that God values. When the Lord Jesus shall come the second time, without sin unto salvation, if he find any of his people without the fold, he will save them ; and if he finds his foes within, he will recognize them, and send them away into utter darkness, where is weeping and gnashing of teeth. 4. The subject we contemplate shows us that God is interested in every large or small community, more or less, as it contains a sjreater or less amount of holiness. Show me a kingdom where there are none of his elect, and with the word of God in my hand i can predict its destiny. It will prolong its existence only while in some way it serves the church, and will then become extinct. But let a nation embosom a large body of believers, or let its ener- gies be expended to serve the Church, and it has the surest possi- ble defence. Hence all that confidence which, in times of political distress. NOTHING SAFE BUT THE CHURCH. 65 we place in men and measures is a delusive trust. It is the pre- sence of moral rectitude, and the prayer of faith, that render God a nation's guardian. Yes, lovers of your country, fill our land with temples, and Bibles, and truth ; let it stand pre-eminent in the work of spreading the gospel ; let our officers be peace, and our exact- ors righteousness ; and we are more ably defended than we could be by all the armies that were ever congregated, and all the navies that ever rode upon the sea. Nations may boast of their strength, and array their forces, but if they do not please God, and he de- spise their host, they fall an easy prey. So in a city or a town where there is no holiness God has no in- terest. He will not care for our improvements in trade or indus- try, or take pleasure in our accumulated fortunes. By how much we subserve the interests of his kingdom, so will be the kindness he will feel for us, and the care he will take of us. Unless held in requisition for God, all we have is dross ; " our gold and silver are corrupted, and our garments are moth-eaten." So in churches and congregations God has an interest, and exerts an agency in their behalf, exactly in proportion to the amount of holiness found there. Let a Church be very corrupt, and God will care but little for it ; let all its members be holy, and it stands high in the estimation of Heaven. Not in exact accordance to their numbers are the Churches arranged on the records of heaven. In many a case shall the last be first, and the first last. And it is not presumption to say, that God will apportion the visits of his mercy to the aggregate of holiness that shall operate to invite down his gracious and life-giving influences. How forlorn, then, is the hope that God will grant seasons of refreshing where there are none to pray ; and will give a new heart and a right spirit where there is no house of Israel to inquire of him. Still, when men arc the most deserted as to spiritual blessings God may allow them temporal prosperity. It is all the heaven he will give them. Men may prosper most when they are nearest de- struction. The old world and the devoted cities were never more prosperous than when their last sun was rising. Men may be ripe for the scythe of death, their cup of iniquity full, while yet their fields wave with the abundant harvests, the atmosphere is fragrant with the odours of the ripened fruits and flowers, and echoes with the song of the cheerful laborer. Men often perish the sooner be- cause they prosper. Riches increase, and they set their hearts upon them. Any people who become rich faster than they become holy, have this very destiny to fear. 9 6G NOTHING SAFE BUT THE CHURCH. Inquire, then, brethren in Christ, what is the extent of God's in- heritance among you 1 This is a question which I feel willing to press upon your consciences with the weight of a world. Answer it, and vou have determined the extent of God's regard for you, and his care of you. The number of real believers, and the pro- gress they make in holiness, are the facts that are to measure your consequence under the government of God. I know this thought exhibits wealth, and birth, and talents, as comparatively of little worth, and is humiliating as it is true. God is not attach- ed to places and names as we are, but to holiness. The territory where the seven churches were, and even where the Shcchinah blazed, God has forsaken : and he will treat you as he has others He will never forsake you while you serve him, nor your children, if thev are holy, nor your seed, to a thousand generations, unless they forsake God. They that despise him shall be lightly esteem- ed ; but let us draw near to him and he will draw near to us. This subject is calculated to comfort pious families. If we aim to render our children holy, God will build us up a sure house for ever. The poor family, who walk in the fear of God, he will con- sider more worthy of his patronage than a whole community of the profane and the proud. He will not command that house to become extinct where he is feared and worshipped. The angels will pitch their tents there, and *' What ills their heavenly care prevents, No earthly tongue can tell." If God be for us who can be against usl if he resolve to prosper and bless us, we and ours shall be safe, amid every storm that blows. No plague shall come nigh thee. The individual believer may take all the comfort possible from this subject. No matter, what his station. God regards the pious slave more than the impious master. The poor widow that can pray, and is happy in her closet, can do more to save her land, than the prayerless monarch. She can sit down calmly, and look at the gathering tempest, and ask her Father to manage and con trol its violence. We shall ever find that thought, so beautifully expressed by the poet, true, " The soul that 's filled with virtue's light, Shines brightest in afflictions' night : And sees in darkness beams of hope. Ill-tidings never can surprise His heart, which fixed on God relies, NOTHING SAFE BUT THE CHURCH. 67 Though waves and tempests roar arounc" Safe on a rock he sits, and sees The shipwreck of his enemies, And all their hope and glory drowned." But finally the ungodly are not so ; but are like the chaff" which the wind driveth away. Shocking indeed beyond all description is the condition of that man whom God does not love, and for whose happiness he will make no provision. He may, if God's plan permit, enjoy long the bounties of a gracious Providence, but if God suffer him to live, and makes him an instrument of his glo- ry, it will all be no evidence that he loves him. And a day must soon come, when he will know his own character, and feel all the guilt, and shame, and misery of his condition. To be safe or hap- py, we must become a part of God's inheritance, and have a cha- racter that shall interest us in his love. The sinner, then, who will change his character, may wipe away his tears ; but if he will continue impenitent and unbe ieving, he 's exhorted to be afflict- ed, and mourn, and weep. SERMON III. PERDITION A DARK SPOT IN THE MORAL LANDSCAPE. EZEKIEL XVIII. 32. I have no pleasure in the death of him that dieth, saith the Lord God. Every other doctrine of the Scriptures must be compatible with this one. God has done enough in the work of saving sinners from hell to show beyond controversy that he cannot delight in their blood. The covenant of redemption, and the descent of Jesus Christ to tabernacle in the flesh, and especially his death on the cross, must have satisfied even devils that God had no pleasure in their blood. And then, when God gave the world the scriptures, and directed that men be pressed with the invitations of mercy, how could the truth of the text be doubted, even in the place of torment1. Shall the very men whose way to hell God is hedging up, while he opens before them the portals of everlasting life — shall they have any doubt of his mercy 1 Every Sabbath, and every offer of pardon and every mercy the sinner receives from the hands of God, testify to his unwillingness to destroy, and his willingness to save lost men. And if, on the other hand, because sinners are abundantly con- vinced that God is merciful, they are brought to doubt whether he is holy and just and true, is there not an assault made upon the Di- vine character, which no ingenuous being would be willing to be charged with! May he not condemn and punish the unholy, who will not repent, while yet he does not delight in the death of a sinner 1 In all governments, divine and human, the laws must be execut- ed, and the administration of justice must be certain. If mercy interpose, it must not be in every case, else the law loses its sanc- tions, and the motives to duty are lessened. And yet in every government, there may be compassion the most warm in the heart of him who administers justice. Nor will anything tend so much us this to honor the law and the government. When the parent, PERDITION A DAKK SPOT IN THE MORAL LANDSCAPE. 69 while he corrects the child, weeps over him, more is done to im- press his conscience with a sense of guilt than can be accomplish- ed by any other means. And the judge who finds it impossible to suppress his tears, while he reads to the criminal the sentence of death, makes a deep and dreadful impression on the conscience of the culprit. He puts on his chains again and goes to his dungeon a sober-thinking man. And the same principle must operate in the divine government. God has assured us that upon some he intends to execute the full penalty of the law. And yet over these he bends with a sympathy indescribably tender, "How shall I give thee up, Ephraim \ how shall I deliver thee, Israel 1 how shall I make thee as Admah, how shall I set thee as Zeboim 1 my heart is turned within me, my re- pentings are kindled together." " If thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this thy day, the things which belong unto thy peace ! but now they are hidden from thine eyes." Judgment is declared to be his strange work. He has no pleasure in the death of him that dieth. God may see the necessity of executing his law while he may wish there had not been that necessity, and that his kingdom could be as safe and happy in administering mercy as in the display of justice. It is when the destruction of the sinner is viewed in itself, separated from the bearing it may have upon the general welfare of the universe, that God has no pleasure in it. Of this we shall be satisfied when we consider what is implied in the ruin of a soul. I. It is painful to see such noble affections misplaced. — The very spirit that falls under the divine condemnation, and goes to endure the outer darkness, and gnawing worm, is capable of putting forth the best affections. The sinner was created capable of loving the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, with all the subjects of God's holy kingdom, his law, his gospel, and his service. True, he could not have comprehended entirely their nature, but he could have known enough to have ris'en to the most ardent glow of affection. Though he could not have loved as angels do, could not have glowed with the ardor of cherubim and seraphim, yet could he have reached a sublimity of holy emotion which would have rendered him glorious in their eyes, and entitled him to a station high and honorable among the hosts of heaven. The Savior he could have loved with peculiar affection, such as angels cannot feel. In the strain of praise which told of dying love, they would have yielded him the highest note ; and probably when ages of ages had given him 70 PEKDITIOX A DARK SPOT opportunity to improve his powers in the salubrious climes of heaven, there might have appeared far less difference between his powers and theirs than now, and eternity might at length have seen him rising through a thousand grades till he had filled a sta- tion by their sid« , and had beamed with an ardor of attachment not inferior to theirs. But these noble affections are all misplaced. Neither God nor the holy subjects of his kingdom have any share in his affections. He glows with no pure desire ; he sees nothing in God, nor in what he loves, that in his account has any worth. That which charms the angels and enraptures all the holy family has nothing in it that can move one affection. His own polluted self, his foul person and ruiued character, engrosses in his eye all the loveliness in the universe. He can hate most cordially that which good beings love. He calls home every affection, and becomes himself a little world, engrossing every care, every wish, and every hope. Thus can he love himself supremely, while all others consider him the essence of deformity. Now can any suppose that God has pleasure in seeing such no- ble affections so misplaced \ Would he not rather delight to be their object, and satisfy their immense capacities with his own immensity 1 We shall be still more deeply impressed with the sentiment of the text on reviewing again the state of the lost sin- ner to see II. Such keen sensations tortured. — When God shall execute his law upon the sinner, every sense, both of body and mind, will be come an inlet of misery. The body will be fuel for the flames, and, if we can learn any thing from Scripture, will welter in brim stone and fire for ever. The rich man lifts up his eyes in hell, being in torment, and begs a drop of water to cool his tongue, while between him and heaven there is an impassable gulf. We read, " that they shall gnaw their tongues for pain," " their worm shall not die, nor their fire be quenched." And while the body thus suffers, the soul will be the inlet of another species of misery not less dreadful. It will be subject to envy, wrath, shame, guilt, disappointment, and despair. And all these corroding passions will live commensurate with the duration of the soul. To see heaven happy, and heaven will be for ever happy, will feed the flames of envy. The quarrel continuing between God and the sinner will for ever produce new sensations of wrath The law continuing in full force, with all its dreadful sanctions, IN THE MORAL LANDSCAPE. 7] will fill the soul with guilt that can never abate, and this guilt will produce correspondent shame. The memory alive to recollec- tion, will perpetuate the sensation of disappointment, while the certainty that God remains unalterably true, will render despair eternal. Thus will there be some fuel to feed the flames of every passion, while these passions will corrode the mind and fill the whole soul with misery. Every new inlet of light will kindle anew the fires of the pit, while, till the judgment, the still increasing number of convicts will exhibit living testimony that God is resolved to be respected and loved by all his intelligent subjects, or treat them as outlaws in his kingdom. And when the pit shall be full, and every cavern shall ring with the howlings of despair, it will be seen that just enough are lost to express suitably God's everlasting resentment of sin, " and the smoke of their torment shall ascend up for ever and ever," as a living testimony of his unchangeable holiness, justice, and truth. At their dreadful expense the righteous will for ever cry Hallelujah. Now to see such sensations tortured while they might have been the inlets of pleasure unspeakable, must be a sight which can have nothing in it calculated to please Jehovah. He is a God of tender compassion ; possesses bowels of mercies. God feels when his creatures suffer, as much more sensibly than we feel as his heart is more tender and his soul more benevolent. Hence he is represented as moved by the entreaties of his people, and is said to avenge his elect, who cry day and night unto him. How can such a being have any pleasure in the miseries of the damned 1 But when we see III. Such great expectations disappointed, the doctrine of the text is still more firmly established. The sinner on whom we have fixed our eye, was born perhaps a child of promise. Over his very cradle his parents planning his future course, imagined that they saw opening before him a luminous and useful track. They assigned him first earthly distinctions, and then a crown of life. Perhaps he was the subject of many prayers, and consequently of many hopes As he advanced in his course there kindled up great expectations in his own breast ; he set out to be great below and greater still above. Perhaps his early life promised much, and his hopes far outwent his prospects. His friends and neighbors had their expectations raised it may be to an amazing height. And in the mean time his Maker, (for His property in us must not be for- 72 PERDITION A DARK SPOT gotten) had a right to calculate on his future usefulness and great ness. He had made him a noble spirit, furnished him with abun- dant light and means, and watched his opening genius with more than paternal solicitude. He had formed him fit for the noblest service, and why had he not a right to calculate on his future greatness 1 I do not mean that God could be disappointed or could be grieved, in the sense that we may, but the Scriptures do warrant us to say in reference to a case like this, " It repented God that he had made man upon the earth and it grieved him to his very heart." How dreadful that man should so conduct him- self as to extort a sigh like this from the bosom of his Maker, thus, as it were, defeating the great end of his being, and laying prostrate every hope that hung upon his existence. Now view the man in misery, and see all these expectations lost, and for a moment weep over him. He meant to wear a crown, but found a halter ; he aspired to a throne, but reached a gibbet ; he hoped for heaven, but sunk to hell. He intended to be an heir of God, but inherited everlasting burnings. He aspired to become an angel of light, but became a fiend of darkness. How dreadful to see such hopes withered, such reasonable expec- tations blighted by the frosts of the second death. How can there be in such an object any thing that can fill the heart of God with pleasure 1 Were it the seat of malevolence instead of mercy, it could hardly fail to weep over such costly ruins. The unexpected extinction of a thousand suns would not exhibit equal hopes ex tinguished. God could light a thousand more, and thus repair the breach ; but souls he never will annihilate, nor build again their ruins ; then how can God have any pleasure in the death of him that dieth ! IV. We contemplate him again with still deeper regret to see suck useful talents lost. — View some great man now in torment. While on earth, his spirit, although cumbered with a dying body, ex- hibited amazing enterprise. He could count the stars and measure the diameter and distance of every planet. He could conceive the noblest projects, and trace to its final result every enterprise. Now free such a soul from its cumbrous clay, give it angel's wings, light well its track, let its powers grow and enlarge through eternity, and what could it not achieve 1 Conceive of Locke or Newton now in hell, after exploring every labyrinth of the moral and the physical world. Or if men so heavenly in contemplation may not be mentioned in connection with hell ; think of Hume, IN THE MORAL LANDSCAPE. 73 and Voltaire, and Bolingbroke, men of noble minds, but who hated the Son of God. See them in torment. Had they been as good as they were great, how useful ! And must their gigantic minds dwindle to the stature of a dwarf, and only be to be de- gpaded 1 What a pity ! What an evil ! What a loss ! What a loss to themselves ! Their greatness but prepares them to be miserable, while it might have made them happy. What a loss to all heaven ! There their noble spirits would have found employ- ments suited to their nature. What noble projects of holy ambi- tion might they have originated ! What inspiration might such spirits have breathed into the songs of heaven! What new dis- coveries of God and truth might they have made in the clear light of that celestial world ! What anthems might they have invented ! What strains of hallelujah ! How a soul, so noble in its structure, could swell and sweeten the music of the heavenly choir ! Ima- gine it redeemed from hell, and joined to the choir of heaven, as a soft sweet viol, tuned to please an angel's ear, and swelling every note it sings to the sweetest, softest melody, and what a pity, that such a viol should be converted into fuel, and feed the fires of the pit. And if you suppose every spirit of equal dimension, and differing only in the structure of its clay organs ; then suppose that the ten thousands who have gone to despair are ransomed and joined as so many well-tuned instruments to the music of that happy world, and what a revenue of praise would redound to God! Who can view the subject in this light and not feel pained that souls must perish 1 "Oh that my head were waters, and mine eyes a fountain of tears, that I might weep day and night for the slain of the daughter of my people." Oh, the cursed tragedy of the fall, which placed noble spirits where they are utterly lost. For they can be of no use to each other in the place of misery. " Though hand join in hand, the wicked shall not go unpunished." Were there accumulated in hell all the noblest talents of the created universe, they could not escape the hand of justice. They could neither bridge the gulf that partitions hell from heaven, nor extinguish the fires that consume them. So satisfied of this was the rich man, that he begged he might never see his brethren in that place of torment. If, then, the noblest talents would be use- less in hell, and could be so well employed in heaven, what a loss is the damnation of a soul ! And why will not the loss, although it would have been a greater loss to save them, impenitent, be felt forever 1 If any government should be under the necessity of imprisoning for life its noblest geniuses, would not the loss be 10 74" PERDITION A DARK SPOT felt and be deplored by the very monarch who barred their prison I Yes, and God will be sensible forever of the loss of talents in per dition, and will forever view that world as a dark spot in his crea- tion, although rendering the remainder more beautiful. How then can he have any pleasure at all in the death of him that dieth ? And we shall be convinced of this truth when we have taken one more view of the lost sinner, and see V. Such a noble vessel polluted. He was calculated to be a vessel of honor, prepared unto glory, and might have been the everlast- ing recipient of eternal mercy. How largely miefht he have re- ceived the overflowings of infinite benevolence! And if the soul had perpetually enlarged, and been kept full of love, and joy, and peace, what a rich and lovely treasure would such a spirit have been ! Angels would pay respect to such a soul, and God himself would be pleased. But the vessel is polluted. " The gold has become dim and the most fine gold changed." If you should see a golden goblet filled with the defilements of a sink, how incon- gruous! how repulsive to the sight! But how much more dis- gusting to see a heaven-born soul filled with the corruptions of sin ! If it should be our destiny to be lost we shall be forever dis- gusted at ourselves; and angels and God will view us with eternal loathing ; devils, our companions in misery, will despise us and themselves much more. The lost spirit will be the most filthy object in the universe. God will be for ever happy, but his joy, his life, his pleasure, must be in other objects ; and if the deity may not be pained, so neither may he be pleased with the scenes of the pit ; and will he not cover it with a cloud of smoke which shall obscure its defilements from the vision of the blessed ! 1. God will not damn any who do not oblige him to do so in order to secure the honor of his name and kingdom : judg- ment is his strange work. If he takes no pleasure at all in the death of him that dieth, how can we believe that any will per- ish whose eternal ruin is not necessary to show the justice, the truth, and the holiness of God, to vindicate his law, or honor his government 1 None, then, of my readers will perish but such :is make themselves vile, and continue obstinately disobedient, resist- ing the iniluences of the Holy Spirit, till God gives them up to their own hearts' lusts, and swears in his wrath that they shall not IN THE MORAL LANDSCAPE. 75 enter into his rest. And even such he will spare as long as the good of his holy kingdom will permit. 2. Hence we see why sinners who will finally be lost are so long kept out of hell. God abhors the work of destruction, and wdl spare them till there is no hope of their repentance, and even when hope is gone, may spare them still, unless the good of his kingdom require their immediate destruction. And I know not that any sacred text has assured us that sinners shall perish as soon as they are given over to hardness of heart and blindness of mind. The probability is that they are spared longer, that God may appear infinitely gracious while he destroys them. 3. He not only spares them, but follows them with the invita- tions of his mercy. He gives them line upon line and precept upon precept. Minister after minister is raised up to proclaim to them the unsearchable riches of Christ. He stands and pleads with them " till his head is wet with the dew and his locks with the drops of the night." He seems reluctant to destroy them, and so varies the means and arguments that urge them to repentance. He tries every gracious method to move them, sends judgments and mercies, and, when all means have failed and they are joined to their idols, he lets them alone. 4. No more will finally be lost than is absolutely necessary. No more than just enough to clear his character from impeach- ment, and his law and government from reproach. 5. There must be something very odious in sin, since God so abhors it, that he will destroy men who do not repent of it and are not sanctified, although he hates the work of destruction. While we thus see the heart of God moved with compassion for perishing men, and as it were grieving at the necessity of exe- cuting upon them the rigors of his law, and yet determined upon that execution, it seems forever to settle the question, that " sin is that abominable thing which his soul hateth." For that some will perish after all that has appeared of the divine compassion, there can be no doubt. Divine veracity is pledged for the de- struction of all those " that know not God, and obey not the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ." And the divine character must suffer, if finally the whole human family should be saved. Hence every honest man, as he reads his Bible, is there taught to expect an event, which, undesirable as it may be in itself, is rendered neces- sary by the obstinacy of sinners. And if it should be inquired, Why does not God save all by sanctifying their hearts'? we can only answer, " Even so, Father, for so it seemeth good in thy 76 PERDITION A DAHK SPOT sight." Perhaps the excellency of the law could never be so fully seen as in the destruction of sinners, and perhaps heaven could never be so happy, were not its joys contrasted with the miseries of the second death. Be these things as they may, it is evidently the purpose of God, that, in the ruin of the lost, sin shall show its odious nature as it never did before. It has compelled Jehovah to kindle the fires of tophet, and as he shall be seen to feed their flames for ever, that he may suitably express his abhorrence of sin, there will be none in all the universe who will question its odious- ness. As much as men love sin now, they will yet be brought to see that it is a viper whose fangs convey death to the soul. And it will yet appear hateful even to the lost. 6. The weakest saint need not fear but that God will bring him to heaven. Justice will not require him to condemn any of his people, and he will condemn no more than is necessary — no more than justice requires. Not one that has ever believed on the Lord Jesus Christ, need have any apprehension that he will be lost. God will find enough who have rejected the Savior to the last to answer in their destruction all the purposes of his vindictive justice. 7. We need have no apprehensions that any decree of God will keep men out of heaven, who are willing to comply with his terms of salvation. God has always felt as he felt in the days of Eze- kiel. If so, there never was a time when he could make any cruel decree that will now oblige him to do what his soul abhors. His decrees secure the salvation of as many as it will comport with the best good of his kingdom to save. Hence none need be afraid to believe lest some decree of God should still cut them off from life. Indeed the decrees of heaven are the purposes of love. Had there been no purposes of election he must have condemned all our race. To prevent this he resolved to make some willing in the day of his power. 8. As it is a fact revealed, that some will perish, and as their ruin is a thing in which God takes no pleasure ; and as we cannot doubt but that God will still be for ever happy, so we see that his people may for ever sing and rejoice, while they shall know that some of their fellow-men are for ever miserable, and shall see the smoke of their torment ascending up for ever and ever. With the limited views we have now it would seem that it must make us unhappy ; but the saved will see more clearly than we can at pre- sent the necessity of those dreadful measures, and they will not wish nor dare to suppress their hallelujahs. They will not be destitute of sympathy, nor look even with cold IN THE MORAL LANDSCAPE. 77 indifference at the miseries of the lost, but so supremely will they regard the glory of God, and so distinctly will they see the reces- sity of vindictive punishments that they will be satisfied. And now will not this subject urge sinners to repentance ? If God, in view of the worth of the soul, is so unwilling to destroy it, and yet will proceed to destroy if men will not repent, then they ought to repent. He will surely reverse the doom of all who do repent. He is waiting on sinners that they may save him the necessity of destroying them. He will be glad, then, to see the prodigal turning his eye towards his father's house, and will haste to meet him, and will pardon him and love him. He will be glad to make you happy. He has no pleasure in your destruction, but will be glad and happy in your salvation. He has always been blessed, since there were creatures, in making them blessed, and will be as joyful in blessing you as he has been in blessing others. 9. How infatuated is the inference that men of corrupt minds have drawn from these expressions of the divine compassion ; that since God does not delight in the destruction of sinners, he will destroy none ! He has asserted the contrary ; that some shall go away into outer darkness, where is weeping and gnashing of teeth , that the smoke of their torments shall ascend up for ever and ever ; that their worm shall not die, nor their fire be quenched ; that where Christ is they can never come ; that it had been better for them if they had never been born ; that they shall depart accursed into everlasting fire prepared for the devil and his angels. Still, having asserted that he has no pleasure in the death of the wicked, they will believe that his threatenings mean nothing ; that he will falsify his truth to gratify his mercy ; will let his word, and his laiv, and his honor perish, because he dees not delight to make his creatures miserable. That system of universal salvation thus built professedly on the mercy of God is the most impious system that the enemy of souls has ever fabricated ; oh, it is the cold and bloody climax of depravity \ it offers to God an open insult ; it would turn his own truth against himself, and breed confusion and war in his own councils SERMON IV. THE SANCTUARY. PSALM XX. 1, 2. The Lord hear thee In the day of trouble : the name of the God cf Jacob defend thee, senc thee help from the sanctuary and strenghen thee out of Zion. The house of God is the emblem of all the divine institutions. With its prosperity has ever been identified the blessedness of that community who have made it their rallying point. It told the state of Israel under the varied scenes of prosperity and adversity. When its treasury was full and its altars in repair, and the daily sacrifices were offered, and the court was guarded from pollution, and the priests consecrated themselves, and the tribes came up, the tribes of the Lord to the testimony of Israel, then it went well with the people of God. But when the devoted house of prayer was made a den of thieves, and the Levites had gone every one to his field, and the buyer and seller, and the money-changers occu- pied the consecrated sanctuary, then had the glory departed. And in all the ages since in lands where the true God is known, if at a single glance one would learn the state of any people, let him follow the sound of the church-groins bell and look into their sanctuary. There he can read their condition in unequivocal lines. I would lie without, a roof to cover me, and make my bed in the clefts of the rock, but must find my way to the house of the Lord, and fix my dying grasp on the horns of his altar. All that is thriving and healthful in any section of Christendom is suspend- ed on the interest taken in the house of God ; and if things are not prosperous, and men would see their captivity brought back, they must seek their help in the sanctuary, and be strengthened out of Zion. God is the only source of their help and their salva- tion. They may try all other means first, as many a wretched people have done, but they will only pine away in their bondage till they build the house of the Lord. But why — inquires that multitude, who have no confidence ir THE SANCTTJARY. 79 the over-ruling providence of a wise and holy God — why must help come from the sanctuary 1 I answer, I. It is the place where God's honor dwells. When Israel would have the help and guidance of Jehovah they made application at the temple where his glory was seen in the holy place, and where he had appointed to respond to their supplications. If famine, or war, or pestilence preyed upon them, their imme- diate resort was to the temple. I know that under the gospel dis- pensation there is less of the visible and the tangible in religion, than in the times of Israel, yet is there none the less of the reali- ty. We have as firm an assurance, as had the ancient church, that God is present with his people, and fills the sanctuary with his glory, and that we may with the same assurance apply for help at the place where his honor dwells. And where is that place found rather than where his gospel is proclaimed, and his people congregated, and his ordinances administered, and his everlasting covenant ratified with his chosen, and his sanctifying Spirit sent down to cleanse and to purify 1 What place can he favor more 1 Where make a richer deposite of his glory ? Where rather lend a propitious ear to the cries of his people ? At his sanctuary we may calculate to meet with God, and the people who cut them- selves off from that holy place can expect no help in their straits and their distresses. Had some wayward tribes of Israel refused to have any connection with the tabernacle and the temple, that tribe must have been without any light or guidance from Heaven The history of the ten tribes is in proof. Refusing to repair to the place where God had appointed to meet them he met them no- where, would not respond to their cries, or guide them in the day of trouble. They wandered in darkness as the blind grope at noon- day. And wherein is the case altered now 1 The people who forsake the sanctuary, or leave others to sustain and enjoy its worship, are without God and without hope in the world, and their conduct will •.oon tell on their character and their condition. There will some plague await them that will be entailed to their children, and por- tray their folly at an hour too late perhaps for them to become wise. When the captives hanged their harps upon the willows of Babylon, they remembered the sanctuary, how things prospered with them, when the " tribes went up, the tribes of the Lord, to the testimony of Israel." But the^ had neglected the institutions 80 THE SANCTUARY. of Heaven too long, and the decree hnd gone out that most of that o-eneration should die in their bondage. '1 he enemy had been advertised of their mistake, and tauntingly said, " Sing us one of Zion's songs." And their desponding reply, " How shall we sing the Lord's song in a stjange land," portrays the misery of that people in gospel times that go not for help to the sanctuary. They must waste away in their miseries, till they shall know and their children after them, how terribly God can avenge himself on his enemies. II. The house of God is the place of united and fervent prayer. We hazard nothing in saying, that all who pray meet there. Such cannot voluntarily and habitually absent themselves from the place where God has appointed to meet them, and hold communion with them. And they come to pray and unite their prayers, and the promise of God is, that whatever they shall ask it shall be done for them. The infidel only will doubt, whether prayer has efficacy. God's promise to hear, and the believing assurance that God has heard him in the time accepted, and in the day of salvation has succored him, begets confidence in the use of prayer. And its increased efficacy, when united and fervent, and the assurance tha+ it will have unity and fervency in the sanctuary, point out that place as the source of their help in the hour of danger and of suffering. Any privilege but the immediate smiles of God, I would dispense with sooner than have no share in the prayers of God's people offered in the holy place. 1 would be without the means of self- defence, without the protection of law, and without a shelter for my head at night, but should not dare to be cut off from an inter- est in the prayers of the sanctuary. Let no shower or dew fall on my territory, or breeze fan my habitation, or genial sun warm me ; but let me not be excluded from the health-bearing influence of the house of prayer. Others can go to their farms or their merchandise, or their journeys, or their book-keeping on the Lord's day, and let the prayers of the sanctuary go. But if there does not come a blight over their fading hopes, and they do not find that moth and rust corrupt their treasures, then we have mis- taken the ways of God. We shall watch to see what destiny overtakes their property and their children after the lapse of a fewr years. If facts may testify, the interests of the present life as well as the life to come, depend on the identity we establish between them and the supplications of the house of prayer. The THE SANCTUARY. SI prompt and faithful supporter and constant attendant upon the sanctuary may calculate to prosper. " Them that honor me I will honor." The less frequent attendance and the less prompt and generous support may be associated with a kind of paralysed and stationary prosperity. " To the froward thou wilt show thy- self froward." The entire neglect will be the harbinger of dark- ness and decay. " They that despise me shall be lightly esteem- ed." Neither prosperity nor character are sure where there is wanting the guardianship of prayer. Not the pointed rod which turns away the lightnings, answers a purpose more kind, in the natural, than prayer in the moral world. III. The house of God is the radiant point of sanctifiying truth. It was the prayer of the Lord Jesus for the destined heirs of sal- vation, "Sanctify them through thy truth." And God has re- vealed it as his purpose, " By the foolishness of preaching to save them that believe." Hence from the lips of the living preacher go out those doctrines that operate to sanctify the hearts of men. And who dare hope that society can prosper, where no hearts are sanctified ? " Ye are the salt of the earth." A whole unregene- rate family constitutes a very dark house, where insubordination kindles many a fire ; and a town, or county, or state, where there were none regenerated, would be an unmanageable community. Society owes more than it will acknowledge to the influence of piety. It lays upon men a restraint even where the number of the pious is small, that is productive of more peace and order and prosperity, than all other means combined. Survey those lands, where no sanctifying religion operates to mould the manners, and fix the principles, and restrain the passions of ungodly men. • They are desolated. The passions excited, with no power present to tame or restrain them, spread a destruction wide and wasteful as human power can generate. After this survey, if you do not feel glad that your lot is cast into a gospel land, then will we abandon the argument and help you lay the temple prostrate. At one glance you will see a religion that eats up its population like a pestilence. At another you will see prevailing falsehood, and fraud, and theft, till no man sees another in whom he places con- fidence. Domestic happiness, and conjugal fidelity, and parental and filial regard, are things for which their language has not a name. And everywhere where the gospel is not, there prevails a government that rules with a sceptre of iron. The hardest des- potism is rendered necessary by the absence of moral restraints » 11 82 THE SANCTUARY. If piety must be or misery, there must be that truth which sanctifies, and the sanctuary whence that truth issues. Throw prostrate the altar of God, and there will be no power found that can sustain the sanctifying doctrines of revelation. "What God hath joined together let no man put asunder." The house of God ever has been and must be the grand receptacle of light from heaven, and thence it issues to restrain the passions, and mould the manners, and repair with the divine blessing the ruins of the apostacy. IV. The instruction of God's house is the grand agent in the for- mation of public sentiment. I now refer to an influence that goes out from that holy place, to affect all men, whether they will or will not be controlled by that influence. To the ungodly, public sentiment is an irresistible law. You could bind the thief and the robber by it. Surround them with only purity of sentiment, and you would make them honest. No n an can habitually do what all about him disapprove. The most depraved would be perfectly wretched, embosomed in a holy community, till they could break from their prison, and find some fastness in the mountains, where they could associate with men of their own stamp. Human laws are weak and inoperative, but as they are sustained by public sentiment ; murder is com- mitted with impunity in those lands where a public depraved sen- timent is stronger than law. I would not give a straw for that defence that law holds out in the absence of a correct public opinion to sustain it. And there is no means powerful like the house of God in the formation of that opinion. There issue thence not merely the doctrines that sanctify, but the sub-principles that moralize, and mould, and restrain the public mind. And this in- fluence it exerts not merely upon the sabbath assembly, but the> men that despise the control of principles that either God or man can enforce. The men who attend the sanctuary bear out into society and act out in their deportment its principles; and others catch the moralizing influence and spread it wider and still wider over the surface of an apostate and degenerate community, till the whole mass is leavened. Hence that portion of society which stand aloof from the house of God, and perhaps gnash their teeth at its holy solemnities, are blessed through its influence. It bears obliquely upon them, but is mighty like no other law they listen to. It gives them indirectly all their civil privileges, the peace- able possession of their rights, security of life and exemption from midnight depredations and from hourly oppressions. It sets a THE SANCTUARY. 83 watch about them at the expense of others, a watch which they should be ashamed to let their fellow-men sustain alone, but with- out which society would be a den of thieves. When we say of any one that he is a shameless fellow, what more can we say to give him the lowest character 1 But to become shameless, what is it hut to hold public sentiment in utter contempt ? It is this that keeps our world from becoming a shameless community, and for this kind guardian of our best earthly interests every man is indebted to the sanctuary. V. The house of God sustains all the other civilizing and health- ful institutions. Identified with it are a preached gospel and the ministry of reconciliation. These all sustain each other. And hence the sin of disturbing, with controversy and disunion, a regular sanctuary-goincr people, is one of no ordinary magnitude. The Sabbath, too, is sustained by the sanctuary. When or where was there ever a Sabbath kept by a people who were regardless of the public worship of God % Will there be a Sabbath in the private circle, where there is no solemn Sabbath-keeping assembly, and the inspiration of the church-going bell is not felt % No, no. Trace the world over, and no such thing can be found. If men tarry at home, they will be about their secular concerns, and the day will be amalgamated with the days not sanctified. Hence in those lately dark places of the earth, where they have recently got up a Sabbath, they have simultaneously erected them a sanc- tuary, and the one sustains the other. And all the means of edu- cation stand on the same basis. Schools, academies and colleges owe their very existence to their connection with the house of God. The ministers of religion have ever sustained these insti- tutions, and they perish, sure as the frosts of autumn strip the wood of its foliage, soon as they aim at independence on the higher institutions of religion. After the darkest times, when learning seemed to have taken its flight from the earth, its embryo was found to have been sustained in the retreats of the priesthood. The retributions of heaven have developed its purpose, that reli- o-ion and science be indissolubly yoked to the sanctuary, as their foster-mother. And the evidence on this point is brought to our very doors. In those districts of our regular Sabbath-keeping congregations, where the population have abandoned the sanctu- ary, their schools decline, and the merest being, that has irnpudeiK e enough to apply, will be intrusted with the immortal interests of their children. It is common as life, to find some low-minded, 8i THE SAKCTU.AI1 foul-mouthed Sabbath-breaker immured in the schools in those districts, which are not represented in the Sabbath assembly. And why expect it otherwise 1 Men will not look far above their own standard to find a teacher for their children. They will not wish one whose example reproves their own practice, and whose creed reprobates their infidelity. Now, let a whole town become like one of these abandoned districts, and its schools, if any thing that deserves the name remains, will all be of the same character. A palpable darkness comes over the whole community. All im- provement of intellect is undervalued, and the people ve-vge towards heathenism by sure and rapid strides. A coarseness of attire, and a clownishness of manners, and the growth of all the low and vulgar vices, close in now upon the retreat of mind and morals. And in the mean time men suffer in their interest ten times the cost of sustaining the gospel. Restraint is removed from vice, and the enemies of virtue, sustained by a perverse public senti- ment, walk undisguised their guilty round of midnight depreda- tions. Vice, that law was invented to punish, claims its protec- tion. Acts of inebriation, and lust, and profanity, and falsehood, and every other daring outrage upon the laws of God and the peace of society are at length, perhaps, unblushingly committed, rendering insecure every interest of man, temporal and spiritual. The prudent man must now expend, upon the vices of his children many times the sum that would have nobly sustained the gospel institutions. But, alas ! he withheld his support from these to buy his offspring the means of their eternal undoing. He saved the price of helping to build the sanctuary, and the pittance re- quired to support the ministry, and equip his family for the occu- pancy of their pew; and, added to these, he saved all the earnings of the Sabbath-day, but he saved it to put it into a bag with holes ; to bequeath it to an infidel, a debauched and -profligate offspring. If a very small portion of the estate had been expended for their religions education, and they had acquired some knowledge of God, and a conscience rectified by his word, they might have been men, and possessed more than the virtues of a father, and been en- trusted with his estate and the honors of his house, to hand down his name and his praise to unborn generations. But the self-abus- ed lather now on his dying-bed sees nothing else to do but put his estate into the purse of vagabonds where it will evaporate like the dew of morning, or rot and breed corruption, and carry death through the whole field of its pestiferous exhalations. It does not bless his sons, but renders them the more capable of be- THE SANCTUARY. 85 ing incurably profligate. The merest poverty, depriving them of the means of beastly indulgence, might have begotten hope of their redemption. But the poor father must now disinherit his child- ren, or totally damn them. And in the mean time through his money and his heirs pours out pestilence upon society, and gene- rates a plague to operate the ruin of unborn generations. But that father has only himself to blame. His son formed the best character he could with the means his father furnished him. Among these means there was no sanctuary, nor Sabbath, nor ministry, nor valuable library, nor school, nor domestic piety, nor parents' holy example, to give him character and virtue, and ren- der him a man. And while this individual loss is going on, by the sacrilege of the sanctuary, there is a gradual and yet perceptible sinking of the interest of the whole community. The original po- pulation are perishing. And no change of inhabitants will alter circumstances for the better. For the man of decent habits who has any character or interest to lose will not take up his residence in a territory so desolate and approaching evidently towards a still grosser desolation. Sinking property will ever be held above its value till it reaches its lowest price. Hence no exchange of po- pulation will be for the better, but all for the worse. They may get rid of many a low and mean and troublesome family, but must invariably receive in exchange the very dregs of some other ill-fat- ed and miserable community. It will now infallibly result that every inch of territory is subjected to perpetual depreciation. Had the town sustained the sanctuary at any price, and from no other motives but to keep up the value of its lands, it would have told well on their interests. But the day of their prime has gone by, and a public sentiment is generated that is adverse to that only measure that would cure their calamities. It may be that a single individual of large interest would do well as a worldly calculator to build a sanctuary, and establish a ministry, and institute a Sab- bath. He would thus secure his heirs from ruin and his interest from prolonged and fatal depreciation. The very best sections of Christendom would run precipitately back to heathenism, only break down the house of God. Who but heathen can be expected to set any price on heathen territory, upon habitations which have become infested with a moral plague, and fields over which there blow perpetually the withering and the deadly blasts of a burning desert. And there is fled in the mean time about all that render- ed life valuable. Conjugal fidelity, and parental tenderness, and filial confidence and duty begin to be more scarce and less valued 86 THE SANCTUARY. than in Sabbath and sanctuary times. And where are now the Ta- mily altar, and the social bible-readir.g, and the evening fire-side hymn, and the respect for age, and the kind attention to the poor and the houseless; where all the precious endearments of home 1 And where the authority to put down iniquity \ And the whole- some public sentiment to sustain virtuous deportment, and guard individual rights, and cradle into calmness the tumult of riot'? All these disappear along with respect for the sanctuary and attend- ance upon the ordinances and institutions of religion. It is not in the nature of things, and evidently is not the design of Providence, that these healthful principles shall survive the moment when the bittern and the owl have their home in the old weather-beaten and time-worn sanctuary. And I need not say that all heathen lands are destitute of the public sentiments and the humanizing princi- ples that bless mankind and that lie at the foundation of social happiness. And facts assure us that a territory that has bee?i Christian can run back to heathenism rapidly as time can speed and virtue decline. Hence those who have made up their minds to dispense with gospel institutions must calculate on a diminution of their catalogue of comforts, beyond what any miserable people have presumed, till they had made the awful experiment. CouM the people have known where flourished the seven churches of Asia, — could they have dreamed what a desolation would sweep over them, laying waste scores of generations, they would have taken the warning given them, and not have suffered the candle- stick to be removed out of his place. And could any abandoned section of Christendom have known, ere they parted with the gos- pel, how soon all their comforts would flee, they would have made one more dying effort, and would have perished if they must by the horns of the altar. And even now if there could be awakened a pulsation of spiritual life, the rock would rise from the quarryi and the timber come down from the wood, and the sanctuary lift lis spire, and the "church-going bell" utter hints of salvation through all that dreary territory of death. Men grow poor by robbing God. There inevitably follows the abandonment of the gospel a train of litigations and bankruptcies, and imprisonments; and divisions, which no human power can control. Some solitary families may seem for a time to thrive, may grow wealthy through the \ ices of the people, or because they had no share in procuring the desolation, and are not included in the ruin. But even these, unless they flee soon from the midst of such a Sodom, will become partakers of her plagues. They will see their children contami- THE SANCTUARY. 87 nated. and vile encroachments upon the stillness of their Sabbaths, and the peacefulness of their evenings, and the innocent enjoy- ments of their interest. They must send away their children to be educated, and send out their capital from the desolated territo- ry, or employ it contraband, in distilleries, and grog-shops, and usury, the only institutions that flourish in the absence of the gos- pel ; and then God will curse their estate, and curse their children with it, and their good name, till they and theirs become amalga- mated with the surrounding moral ruins. Thus, when the sanc- tuary is let go, all goes. Men find their counsels turned into fool- ishness, and they pay a tribute to vice twenty times the assess- ments of virtue. Hence, when men imagine themselves unable to bear the expense o{ divine institutions, they should inquire if they be able to live without them. VI. From the house of God are selected the subjects of his grace. Those only who frequent the sanctuary are at all likely to be regenerated. We have pronounced it the radiant point of sancti- fying truth. And it is truth, we must not forget, in the lips of a living ministry that God has pledged himself to bless. " By the foolishness of preaching he saves them that believe." When our Lord had commissioned his apostles, to gx> into all the world and preach the gospel to every creature, he promised, " he that be- lieveth and is baptized shall be saved, but he that believeth not, shall be damned." Thus the gospel that they would carry, and that would sound from their lips, and that of their successors, was to be the grand instrument of salvation. In connection with this divine promise, facts assure us, that when God sends a revival among a people, the subjects of it are generally taken from sanc- tuary-going families : — " Sanctify them through thy truth, thy word is truth." — If others in such a period come round, and seem interested, and are awakened, still seldom do they make their way to Jesus Christ. More generally you see them, soon as the revival is over, returning back to their Sabbath-breaking and their cups, like " the dog to his vomit, and like the sow that was washed to her wal- lowing in the mire," and we hear not from them till perhaps another revival' summons them again to come and gaze upon the moving scene. But those who give evidence of renewed hearts are more generally from the people who have sustained the honors of God's house. In them Christ is found the hope of glory. Hence to the house of God the Church must look for its recruit, and the world for its sa- vour and its light. And when the public worship of God ceases, we 88 THE SANCTUARY. hear of no revivals, or if we hear of them, we frequently hear that their fruits have perished in some wild and wayward fanaticism. Hence the Church must dwindle and become extinct without the sus« taininc influence of the sanctuary. There are at length neither creed, nor covenant, nor communion, nor aught else remaining, but some indistinct recollection that once God had there a people, or perhaps some hoary-headed believers, that once ate the conse- crated bread. And what is there worth saving, wnat tnat God will watch over or care for, where he has no people ; as in the old world when the ark was ready, and in Sodom when Lot was gone 1 The eye of a vigilant Providence sees nothing to occupy it where there is none of his image, nothing but chaff and stubble — " Ye are the salt of the earth, ye are the light of the world." Humiliating as the thought may be, none may alter or soften it. " Jacob is the lot of his inheritance." If men are mortified that such is their cha- racter as to sink them below the smile of Heaven, and render them and theirs not worthy to be guarded, they must adjust the concern with God. If they will not build him a house, or if they abandon the place where his honor dwells, they cannot complain if he care not to build them a sure house for ever 5 it is only walk- ing frowardly toward them as they have walked frowardly towards him. He will think it right to make every other interest bend to that of his Church, the world willing or not willing, pleased or dis- pleased. " The Lord send the help from the sanctuary." It would be curious to mark the process by which a people lose the blessings of the gospel and bring upon themselves and upon posterity the plagues that have been enumerated. There is usually discovered 1. A satiety of hearing the word of the Lord. This is indicat- ed by an infrequent attendance upon the sanctuary, by a tardy ap- proach, by a half-day worship, by a dull and drowsy attitude in the house of the Lord, by a neglect of the week-day occasions of hearing the gospel, and by a score of other signs, which say that they are no longer hungry for the word of the Lord. How differ- ent from all this was the spirit of the Psalmist when he sang : "How amiable are thy tabernacles, 0 Lord of hosts. My soul longeth, yea, even fainteth for the courts of the Lord." Precisely the opposite of all this longing, and fainting, and crying out after the courts of the Lord, is the spirit of supineuess and death, that is seen coming over a people on whom God in righteous retribution is about to send a famine of the word. As every movement of the sinking patient is slow, and the pulse feeble and respiration la- THE SANCTUARY. 8S borious, and to think or speak a burden, till death at length is seen standing hard by his pillow ; so that people who are about to make the experiment of living without the gospel, will be seen, perhaps for years, putting on the symptoms of moral dissolution, till at length there remains no longer the power of action, or the sense of danger, or the hope scarcely of resuscitation and life. And we have noticed 2. That the spirit of decay esteems the support of gospel insti- tutions a burden. The cost of the sanctuary, and the ministry, and the thousand varied appendages of evangelical worship and ordinances begin to be considered lost. Then comes the inquiry, What am I the gainer by sustaining the gospel 1 How am I drained of the means of accommodating my family with conve- niences ! How many acres of territory might I have purchased with the sums that the gospel has cost me ! How poor have I kept myself and my family by the offerings of the temple ! Could 1 have them paid back, the whole would be a fortune for my child- ren ! Thus men grudge the Lord the sacrifices he demands as the very price of their prosperity ; and the children learn how reluc- tantly their parents support religion, and how gladly they would rid themselves of the galling burden. Hence, as soon as their pa- rents are asleep in death, and their property is in their hands, they are all disciplined for the business of pulling down the institutions of heaven, and making the experiment of bartering away the truth for money. Unhappily, all their respect for a parent's judgment goes to establish them in the belief that the gospel does but op- press and impoverish them. Thus the parent dug the grave of his offspring. He incautiously taught them principles that undermine his house and blast his memory. He had not counted up the cost, how the absence of gospel institutions would alter and injure the character of his offspring, how it would neutralize the Sabbath, and remove the means of becoming wise, and break the grapple of conscience, and lessen the worth of morals and the estimate of character, and throw down his children from the elevation they occupied, and his whole posterity from the position they might have held, into tlie bosom of a besotted, and mean, and miserable community : — how, with the removal of the gospel there would vanish all the blessings it brought ; the sweets of domestic inter- course, the bonds of the social compact, the elevation of intellect, all the means of being great and good in this life, and holy and happy in the life to come. Unhappy father, he sprung a mine un- der his own house that threw his offspring, and his name, and his 12 90 THE SANCTUARY. estate, to the winds of heaven, while a tithe of his income, paid honestly to the Lord, would have ensured the whole, down, per- haps, to the funeral day of the world. He saved indeed his mo- ney and taught his children to save it, but God took vengeance on his inventions. And there follows of course, 3. A disrespect for the ministry of the reconciliation. That ministry can be useful no longer than respected. When men begin to speak of the office as a mere sinecure, they are not to be expected to derive any great profit from it ; and when they treat the men who occupy it with coarseness, they may calculate that they are ruining their offspring. He that Heaven has com- missioned to negotiate with a rebel world, while he may claim no- thing on the score of personal importance or elevation, may still demand that men hold the office, and himself, because of the office, in due respect. And in the absence of this respect there is lost to the world the whole influence of that highest means of its re- demption, a preached gospel; and what is more, there is laid the train that is to carry moral devastation down through unborn generations. But, Finally — There is one token of approaching desolation so mark- ed in its character as to deserve a distinct and prominent notice. I refer to the case when the people of God feel that they are not obliged to make greater sacrifices than others to sustain the sanc- tuary, and hand down to unborn generations the blessings of the gospel of peace. I consider no one sign so articulate, that God is about to remove the candlestick out of its place. God's people ought to do more than others ; and if the world would come for ward and act so liberally as to save them the necessity, it would be a curse to them. A Christian can pray better when he is mak- ing great sacrifices for the Lord, and will grow more rapidly in grace and in the knowledge of the truth, God will feed the most plentifully, and smile the most graciously upon the child that serves him the most cheerfully. Christians receive more bless- ings than others through the gospel. In a minor sense, it blesses all, but in a major sense, believers. All learn truth, and receive elevation of character, and enjoy comforts, through the influence of the gospel ; but the believer, through its influence, is sanctified and made meet to be a partaker of the inheritance with the saints in light. The one has temporal and the other temporal and spir- itual blessings. The temporal blessings are worth a thousand times the cost of them to the unsanctified ; hence, by what mea- sure can we calculate their worth to him who hopes to reach hea- THE SA.\CTUARY. 9] ven through them 1 It is for them, as well as for the world, a wise appointment that they shall do more than others. We would not have them exempted if we could. Now, when the people of God begin to stand aloof from his sanctuary, and to fear they are bearing an undue burden, and are ready to let it fall, unless others will lift as laboriously as they lift, then you may expect a famine of the truth. When the pro- fessed people of God, who are called by his name, and tell of be- ing bound to him by an everlasting covenant, who profess to have laid up their treasure in heaven, and to look for " a city that hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God," — when these will shrink from any sacrifice to sustain the gospel of his Son, and suf- fer an institution that prospers all others to fail through their covet- ousness, then who, can it be expected, will stand and prop the sinking honors of God's house % It is feared we could point you to a great many gloomy sections of this ruined world where this very cause has operated, and is now operating to turn the fruitful field into a wilderness, and render some of the holiest territories in Christendom cheerless and dreary as the very caverns of death. On this point one need not fear to say too much, the professed Christian, who grudges the drafts made upon his purse by the gos- pel, and is ever poor when its claims are presented, is to be classed with Demas and Judas, and to be held up to the world as its o-reat- est foe, and to the Church as its darkest and deepest blot. How charming is the place Where my Redeemer, God, Unveils the beauties of his face, And sheds his love abroad ! Not the fair palaces To which the great resort, Are once to be compared with this Where Jesus holds his court! Here, on the mercy-seat, With radiant glory crown'd, Our joyful eyes behold him sit, And smile on all around. To him their prayers and cries Each humble soul presents : He listens to their broken sighs And grants them all their wants. Give me, 0 Lord, a place Within thy blest abode, Among the children of thy grace, The servants of my God. SERMON V. MIRROR OF HUMAN NATURE. PROVERBS XXVII. 19. As in water, face answereth to face; so the heart of man to man. This text has received various interpretations ; but there is among them one more generally approved by the friends of truth than any other, and which, it would seem to me, is its plain and obvious meaning : — As a man looking into the water, (used an- ciently as a mirror,) sees there an exact transcript of his own countenance, so every heart has, by nature, precisely the same moral character with every other unsanctified heart. However men may differ, as to the circumstances of their being — as to their age, country, habits, and education — still every child of Adam, till renewed by Divine grace, has, in the view of Omniscience, the same moral aspect. Many, who still wish to be considered believers in Divine reve- lation, have asserted, that the parts of Scripture which give unre- generate men a deformed and polluted character are not applicable to men of the present day. When Paul says of the unregenerate world, and quotes the saying from another inspired author, " There is none righteous, no, not one ; there is none that understandeth ; there is none that seeketh after God ; they are all gone out of the way ; they are together become unprofitable ; there is none that doeth good, no, not one ; their throat is an open sepulchre 5 with their tongues they have used deceit; the poison of asps is under their lips ; whose mouth is full of cursing and bitterness ; their feet are swift to shed blood : destruction and misery are in their ways ; and the way of peace they have not known ; there is no fear of God before their eyes." When he says all this it is round- ly denied, that in civilized lands — lands enlightened and polished — there can be found beings of so barbarous a character. It may possibly suit the Turk, the Arab, and the Tartar, and may be adapt- ed to some few outcasts in more favored lands ; but, as a general description of unregenerate men, it is rejected with proud disdain. In this style the Bible has of late been rudely mangled, till MIRROR OF HUMAN NATURE. 93 many feel themselves quite at liberty to deny the application to themselves of any text that would go to neutralize their creed or wound their high sense of the dignity of human nature. It is hence considered important to show, That men, in all countries and ages, and under every variety of cus- toms and manners, have had, and continue still to have, naturally, the same moral character. This doctrine it will be my object to illustrate. But I shall first notice some of the circumstances which have contributed to make men differ in their conduct, who have by nature the same moral character. In the first place, grace has made a wide difference in men who were by nature alike. This has been the case in most countries, and in all ages, since God first set up his Church in the family of Adam. In the second place, the difference in the instinctive passions and affections has made men to differ in their conduct. In the third place, some have not the talents for doing mischief that others have. This one cause may operate, when there is no other, to produce the greatest difference of conduct, where there is the same temper of heart. In the fourth place, some have not the opportunity to do mis- chief that others have. There may be the disposition, and the talents for gigantic iniquity, but opportunity may be wanting. Nero and Julian had the opportunity while many a wretch during their reign, possessing perhaps equal talents, obtained no celebrity in the service of their infernal master. There are men base enough to burn a world, who will die after having done but little mischief. I remark, finally, that one man may achieve less mischief than another, because more restrained. One man is held back from in- iquity by his conscience. In another, pride prevents him from descending to the deeds of sin which he would love to do. In another, interest is the restraining principle. Hence the most decent among all the ungodly, may have a heart that will compare in its every feature, with that of the thief, the robber, and the assassin ; though restrained from their deeds of death. Having thus noticed some of the circumstances which have made men to differ in their conduct and appearance, who have by nature the same character of heart, I proceed to illustrate the doc- trine, That men, in all ages, and tinder every variety of customs 94 MIRROR OF HUMAN NATURE. and manners, have had, and still continue to have, naturally, tht same moral character. I. We might infer the truth of this doctrine, prior to any argu- ment, from the similarity of origin, aspect, and general habits, that belong to all ages and all nations of men. All men sprang from the same first parents; in their veins flows the same blood ; they have the same general spirit ; feed on the same food ; and have all naturally the same general habits ; and prior to any extraneous applications, have, as we analogically infer, the same temper of heart. For the same reason that we expect to find the lamb and the dove harmless, and the lion and tiger ferocious, through all their generations, and in all countries where they are found ; we expect man to be, in the temper of his heart, the same in all ages and in all nations. When we have settled the point that the human family are all of one species, analogy so far decides the truth of our doctrine, as to cast the burden of proof on those who venture to deny it. But there is on this subject more direct and positive testimony. I would then remark. II. That we can hardly fix our eye on any individual or commu- nity of antiquity, but we can find its exact resemblance, in some individual or community with whose character we are familiar. I shall make my selections chiefly from scripture history, and shall notice those whose deportment made it manifest that they were not born of God, or if otherwise, were left to act out their native character. When I look back to the family of Adam, I see in Cain the prototype of many a man born sixty centuries after him. He saw that his brother's offering was more acceptable than his own, became envious, rose from envy to anger, and gave vent to his malice in a deed that rendered him a fugitive and a vagabond. Now who is so ignorant of human nature as not to see in society men of precisely the same description' in the present day ; men who covet another's distinctions, and from coveting become mali- cious, and would destroy, if human law did not interfere, the object of their spleen. Every generation and every country gives birth to just such men, and they are found amid every community, from the highest to the lowest order of men. Witness the whole list of duellists, from the prince who settles his quarrel in stj le, to the poor kidnapped African who hews to pieces his antagonist with his hoe or his scythe. When their envy does not terminate in blood, it rises often to a horrid pitch of desperation. MIRROR OF HITMAN NATURE. 95 In the family of Jacob there was seen all that variety of evil disposition witnessed in later families. There was parental par- tiality, and filial impiety ; there was envy, and jealousy, and pride, and revenge, and vanity, and lust, and deceit, and, finally, all the unhallowed passions, that go to poison the harmony of domestic circles in every county. In the character of Balaam, the false prophet, who pretended a high regard to the divine authority, and a sacred respect to the decisions of conscience, while yet he loved the wages of unright- eousness, and would gladly have permission of Heaven to curse the Lord's people, we have the features of many an evil mind in the present day- Like him, when they cannot do wrong conscien- tiously, they lay conscience aside, and proceed by the meanest measures to gratify their envy of the Lord's people. Can they bribe Heaven, or force the Bible, or plead the example of the Lord's people, to justify them, they prefer to sin conscientiously, but finally their wrath is too malicious to be restrained by the laws of decency, humanity, or honor. Look, if you please, at Shimei, who cursed David in the day of his adversity, and tell me if the present age, and all countries, are not filled with men of precisely the same spirit. While their neighbor is prosperous, has wealth, and power, and influence, they are the merest sycophants ; but when the scale is turned, and they have nothing either to fear or hope for, they can display the mean- est spirit of malevolence. They have souls the most mercenary, and no opinion of their own, till they fall in with some current of public scorn, when, all at once, they seem the most decided of all men. Who has not witnessed, when public sentiment has set in upon some good man, of whom the world was not worthy, what a multitude will then for the first time discover that he is not fit to live. Witness that most noted of all cases — when our Lord was arrested, the very multitude, whose blind he had made to sec, and whose deaf to hear, whose sicknesses he had healed, whose lepers he had cleansed, and whose dead he had raised, could immediately cry out, " Crucify him, crucify him." A few hours previously, his enemies were afraid to arrest him, because his standing was so high in the public estimation. But his character was unaltered. He did not all at once put on that unworthiness that became an excuse for their wrath. He was the same when feeding the mul- titude, as when hanging on the tree. Tell me, if from the time of David down to this day, society has not been thick set with men 96 MIRROR OF HUMAN NATURE. of precisely the same spirit with that miscreant who cursed the king of Jiulah in his flight. I name Joab, David's chief captain, ambitious, jealous, impudent, profane, revengeful — and ask if society is not cursed in the present day with just such men. They will retain their place, and their honors at any expense; will violate truth, and betray confidence, and direct their stab at reputation and life ; will carry revenge in their bosoms for years, and will finally violate all the laws of righteousness, and cover their souls with indelible guilt to gratify an unbounded ambition. Let me name one among that sex where it grieves me to find any fault, — the wife of Ahab ; and tell me if every age and king- dom has not had its Jezebels. You remember her as the abettor of falsehood, fraud, oppression, persecution, and crime in every varied form into which unbounded depravity could mould itself. She entailed upon her husband the horrid reputation of having done more to provoke the Lord God of Israel to anger, than all the kings that were before him. Now you have but to divest her of royalty and power, and you will find her likeness in every consi- derable group of the world's present population. She was noisy and impudent, bold and masculine, controlled her husband, guided his measures, made him avenge her quarrels, instigated him to deeds of oppression, hated all that was holy, abused the Lord's prophet, and honored Baal, and finally was eaten of dogs, and went to her own place. Now can it be doubted but that you could *>nd in every district of this world's population many a daughter of depravity, after her own likeness, whom you have only to vest with power and clothe with royalty, and yoke to a weak and wicked prince, and you have another Jezebel, prepared to pollute all that is fair, and blight all that is flourishing in the Israel of God] You may go out of Israel, and survey all nations of all ages, and you will find all that variety of character noticed in Israel, and seen in our day, and our land. You may select the worst man that has lived in any age or kingdom, or the best of all the ungod- ly, and you will trace his resemblance in every period and in every tribe of the human family. We allow that circumstances may favor or retard the growth, and the unbridled exercise of the pas- sions in one nation, or at one period more than another ; but still a general comparison of this world's population, at different peri- ods, will lead invariably to the conclusion that, "as in water face answereth to face, so the heart of man to man,"— that the revolu mirror of huma;\ .\aitjre. 97 tions of time have yet brought round no golden age, in which there was not displayed the same temper and disposition, and when there were not born men of the same general character. I pro- ceed to a III. Argument. There have prevailed in all ages and nations the same crimes, calling for the restraining influence of the same laws. Men have been in all times and places inclined to wrong their fellow-men of their property. Hence fraud, theft, robbery, and oppression have been blots in the history of every people who have inhabited the globe. It will not be denied that the immediate de- scendants of Abraham were the most moral and civilized people of their time ; yet these crimes prevailed in Israel. One would steal an ox, or a sheep, and kill it, and this vice must be restrained by the penalty of restoring five oxen for an ox, and four sheep for a sheep. Another would turn his beast into his neighbor's field and cause it to be eaten up ; and must make restitution of the best of his own field. Another would remove his neighbor's land- mark ; in which case there must light a curse upon his head, to which all the people must say, Amen. There were those who vex and oppress the stranger, those who would exact usury, those who would take in pledge a neighbor's raiment, those who would not pay the tithes that God had enjoined, those who would take a bribe, who would follow the multitude to do evil, who would pro- fane the Sabbatb, who would bear false witness, who would covet a neighbor's wife, or ox, or field. And all these crimes prevailed, to a still greater degree, among the nations bordering upon Israel, who had not upon them the restraints of God's written law. And who will deny, that these crimes are still common 1 Have we not the usurer, the slanderer, the thief, the oppressor, the profane, the adulterer, and the Sabbath-breaker 1 Have we not in use similar laws to those which curbed to decency, and honesty, and integrity, the family of Abraham 1 What reason have we to assert, that a single statute in the law of Moses went to restrain a crime that has since then become obsolete 1 Hence what reason to believe, that human nature has become better 1 What reason to believe, that the descriptions of depravity which applied to Israel, Babylon, Egypt, Syria, and Sidon, or even to Sodom, will not apply with equal propriety to the men of this land, and of all lands and all generations when circumstances favor the growth and the practice 13 98 MIRROR OF HUMAN NATURE. of the same vices'? "As in water face answereth to face, so the heart of man to man." I draw my IV. Argument from the fact, that the Bible has never become obsolete. It describes men of other periods, and the description suits the present generation. Some parts of the Bible describe men as they acted three and four thousand years ago ; other parts as they con- ducted eighteen hundred years since ; and it informs us how men will act down to the end of time. Now, sinners in the present day, soon as they gain some knowledge of themselves, find a faith- ful description of their hearts in the same Bible. It proves, wherever there is a spirit of self-application, " a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart." We have sometimes seen persons greatly astonished, to find, all at once, that they had in their house a neglected book, that could tell them all the secrets of their hearts. And this circumstance has not unfrequently per- suaded them that the Bible was written by the finger of God. But if human nature has gradually become better, as some would pretend to believe ; if the awful descriptions of depravity given us in the Bible would suit only the generations or communities, of whom they were originally given, the book would not seem adapt- ed, as it does, to men as they now feel and conduct. When the unregenerate world shall have become as much better, as it has be- come quite fashionable to believe, the Bible will be no longer adapted to our condition. It will not then be a light to our feet and a lamp to our path. I can believe that the' spirit of the divine law will be in force in heaven, but that detail of the law, found in the Bible, and adapted to a race of sinful and polluted men, must go into disuse when there shall be born a race free from entire depra- vity. The Bible was intended to follow men into the labyrinths of vice, and there warn, and admonish, and threaten, and reprove Hence when men shall not thus run into sin, they will need, and God will inspire them a new Bible. It was intended to block up the way of death, and save men from destroying themselves ; but when men shall no longer love to tread the way to perdition, the Bible will not be the book they will need, and God will recall his word, and give the world other instructions, adapted to their al- tered and better condition. Hence whatever evidence we have that the Bible is still the very book we need, we have equal testi- mony that men are by nature depraved, as they ever were. For if the civil law of Moses would suit well the present generation. MIRROR OF HUMAN NATURE. 99 though written more than three thousand years since; and if the Prophecies and the Psalms, written five and seven hundred years later, are descriptive of just such men as we are ; and if the Gos- pels and the Epistles, of still later date, seem adapted to the moral character of the present generation ; with what face can men as- sert that their native heart has changed all its character 1 Must not the honest man believe still, that "as in water face answereth to face, so the heart of man V I close with REMARKS. 1. We see one source of those corruptions of doctrine with which the world is filled. Men have determined that human na- ture has grown better, and that men are born now very different beings from the antediluvians, or the Jews, or the Romans, or the whole Gentile world in the time of our Lord. Having settled this point, independently on the divine testimony, they infer that the same Bible will not suit the different ages and nations: that what God would say to the ignorant, barbarous beings that once peopled the world, he would not say to the present enlightened and polish- ed nations of Christendom. Thus one error has conducted to another. They have been led, by the deceitfulness of their hearts, to believe one lie, and then, to be consistent, must believe another. Had they but correct views of their own hearts, they would be- lieve that the same book, which lashed the consciences of sinners two thousand years ago, is still the best book for us that God could inspire, and that it needs no altering. This is the opinion of awakened sinners. When God makes men acquainted with them- selves, the Bible looks them through, as if an omniscient eye was fixed in the centre of every page ; and it needs then no mutilations or amendments. Oh, would those who think they see an inappro- priateness in the Bible doctrines, look once into their own hearts, that look would be a sovereign antidote to their heterodoxy ; and the Bible would soon be found appropriate and precious. They would patiently read its most doleful pages, and trace, with moist ened eye, its portraits of human depravity; discovering every fea- ture of themselves in its most darkened lines. In the character of the old world, and of the Sodomites, Paul's description of Gen- tiles, and in the character of Judas, they would see no touch of the divine pencil too dark for a delineation of their own carnal mind. It would rather seem as if the whole had been intended to portray their own likeness, in the fairest colors that truth could use. Their proud brow would gather sadness, their heart would sicken, and 100 MIRROR OF HUMAN NATURE. falling down into the dust, they would cover their faces and cry, Unclean! unclean! Wo is unto me. 2. The subject justifies a kind of preaching, as plain and pointed as any thing found in the law of God, or in the communications of Christ and his apostles. Those who have anathematized a discri- minating, bold, and plain exhibition of truth, have all gone upon the mistaken presumption, that men, as the ages have revolved, have gradually bleached their moral character. They have no idea, that were the Lord Jesus to visit the earth again, he would de- nounce us as a sinful and adulterous generation, or address the very worst of men as serpents, and a generation of vipers, hardly escaping the damnation of hell ; — he would not now say, " that the whole world lieth in wickedness," and that " except a man be born again he cannot see the kingdom of God ;" — the ignorant and bar- barous Jews needed to be born again ; as also some of the less civil among the Romans, and a few of the more unlettered among the Grecians; but the term has no meaning in an enlightened congre- gation in America. But all this is false and mischievous. Men have just such hearts as they always had ; and need a gospel as plain and pungent as that preached by the Lord Jesus. The old serpent needs to be dislodged now from his usurped throne and dominion, by the same coarse weapons, if you please to call them such, as were used eighteen hundred years ago. We may dream that we are con- versant with celestial beings ; that our readers are all in a fair way for heaven ; but while we are amusing them, they may, one by one, steal away to their death-bed, and from thence to a bed in hell. And what minister of Christ would not rather make them feel unhappy all the way to perdition, than find at last, that, while he has been preaching a smooth and polished gospel, one soul has been lost for ever through his negligence 1 Every unregenerate man in this world has, in the view of Hea- ven, the same moral character with those who vexed the righteous soid of Noah, and Lot, and Elijah, and Malachi, and Jesus Christ, and needs to be addressed in the same plain, and pungent, and dis- criminating style. Why should totally depraved men wish any other gospel than that prepared for the totally depraved ? What other gospel can reach their case, and alarm them, and save them 1 How cruel, if they do wish it, to amuse them with fair words, and smooth speeches, and thus prevent their hearts from aching, till their destiny is sealed. May the blessed God save his ministers from such deeds of treachery! MIRROR OF HUMAN NATURE. K 1 No, the world needs just such a gospel as was preached In Je- rusalem, and Rome, and Corinth — needs to hear the thunders of the same law that issued from the smoke of Sinai, and to see the vivid flashes that glared upon its summit. Not enough better has the world become to admit the softening down of one accent of those denunciations that fell from the lips of Jesus. And he who thinks otherwise, has only to look around him, and within him, and see now the human heart belches forth its moral corruption, poisoning domestic and social joy, and contaminating every district of this unfortunate and ruined world. Let him attend our courts of jus- tice, and see how men will perjure themselves; let him read the catalogue of divorces ; let him spend an evening in the grog-shop ; let him stop a moment at her door, whose " house is the way to hell }"* let him enter one of our criminal prisons ; let him pene- trate once into the secrets of his own heart, and stay there till the light is let in ; and if he shall then wish any other gospel than the one he has, we will unite with him in beseeching the Eternal to take back his terrible communications. 3. The subject furnishes ungodly men the means of knowing their own characters. They have but to read the history of the world, and learn what sort of beings once peopled it, and that his- tory is the mirror in which they can see themselves. We do not say that every two unregenerate men are alike in their exterior ; but we assert, on the testimony of God, that every two unregene- rate hearts have, in the view of God, the same moral character. Hence the most decent of the ungodly may look at the most aban- doned, and learn exactly what themselves would be, were God to remove all restraint. Hence spake our Lord of whited sepulchres, that appeared beautiful indeed without, but within were full of dead men's bones and all uncleanness. And he elsewhere assures us, He that has been angry with his brother without a cause, though he may not have spilt the blood of any man, is a murderer; and he who has cast a lascivious look, is an adulterer ; and he who has not paid his tithes, has robbed God. Thus Heaven looks at the marrow and the pith of character ; and if men would know themselves, they must be willing to be measured by the same rule. 4. We argue from this subject, that men must all pass the same second birth to fit them for the kingdom of God. The whited sepulchre, as well as that which is neglected and decayed, needs to be cleansed within, else it remains full of dead men's bones and * Prov. vii. 27. 102 MIRROR OF HUMAN NATURE. all uncleanness. The best man among all the unregei erated is a great sinner, and must become greatly ashamed, and must hate sin, and must put his trust in the Lord Jesus Christ, or he must be as surely shut out of heaven as the vilest man that breathes. Men, we know, may do different degrees of mischief; one may draw sin with cords of vanity, and another with a cart-rope; and still both may, with equal assurance, be pronounced on the way to hell. And in that world, it is not denied, that there may be different de- grees of torment ; but it is denied, that either the better sinner or the worse can escape perdition, unless he be born again. Hence it becomes every man, honorable or mean, to be inquiring what he must do to be saved. The man who stupidly imagines that any elevation of character raises him above the necessity of re- penting, and of taking a believing grasp of the atonement by Jesus Christ, has mistaken his own character, and is blind to his ap- proaching destiny. He may compass himself about with sparks of his own kindling, and walk in the light of his own fire, but shall have this at the hand of God, that he shall lie down in everlasting sorrow. Haste, then, ye very best of the ungodly, and be found at a Savior's feet, that ye may have life through his name. If the world esteems you a benefactor, and you can see no fault in your- self, still you must be born again, or die in your sins, and where Christ is, can never come. Finally, We see why there need be but one place of destiny in the coming world for all the unregenerate. The little shades of difference that now appear in the ungodly, are too insignificant to mark them out for distinct worlds. When God takes off those restraints that now make unholy men differ, they will be so much alike that none will impeach his justice when he assigns them all the same outer darkness, the same gnawing worm, and the same quenchless fire. He that has stolen his neighbor's property, and died a felon, and he who has concealed the article found in the street, or the mistake made in his favor, or has purposely become a bankrupt, to escape the obligations of honesty, will appear too much alike in the judgment to require any material diversity in their final sentence. The same perdition will suit them both, though one drops down to hell from the gallows, and the other is borne there on a downy bed. The duelist and the assassin, the usurer and the pickpocket, the forsworn and the profane, the wine- bibber and the sot, the fashionable adulterer and the inmate of the brothel, must be seen to d i fie r so little, when God shall tear away the fictitious drapery from the more honorable sinner, that it will MIRROR OF HUMAW NATURE. 103 seem no incongruity to place them at last in the same hell. God will consider his law as openly violated, and his authority as egre- giously insulted, by the man who sinned in accordance with pub- lic sentiment, as by the man who did his deeds of depravity in full and open violation of the civilities and customs of human society Men make wide distinctions where God will make none. Hence the same condemnatory sentence, the same prompt execution of it, the same place of punishment, the same duration of misery, and the same total despair, will be the destiny of the patrician and the plebeian transgressor. Does the man die out of Christ, this is enough ; no matter whether he was lothed in purple and fine linen, and fared sumptuously every day, or went to perdition a beggar or a slave. It will be the same thing to God ; and for all the millions who repent not, he will build but one hell. Perhaps the meanness and coarseness of his associates may prove at last, to the more accomplished sinner, an ingredient in his cup of mis- ery that shall more than counterbalance the honors and the pride, which, in this life, gave him his fictitious elevation above the vul- gar transgressor. Could I make my puny voice be heard, I would thunder this sentiment through all the ranks of elevated crime, till the highest prince should find his adulterous bed a couch of thorns, till the honorable murderer should feel in his own bosom " the arrows of the Almighty,"* and till the boldest in blasphemy and the meanest in knavery should fear alike the same award, " Depart ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels." * Job. vi. 4. SERMON VI. THE SON OF GOD MUST BE REVERENCED. MATT. XXI. 37. They will reverence my son. Our Lord, in the context, represents the ingratitude and the barrenness of the Jewish church, by a parable of a vineyard leased for several successive years to unworthy husbandmen, who would not yield the owner any of its fruits; but treated unmercifully every servant sent to receive them. They " took his servants, and beat one, and killed another, and stoned another. But, last of all, he sent unto them his son ; saying, They will reverence my son. But they caught him, and cast him out of the vineyard, and slew him." We read, that the vineyard of the Lord of hosts is the house of Israel, and Judah his pleasant plant. He had given them his writ- ten word, and had sent among them his prophets. He had dis- played before them his glory, and had, as it were, surrounded them by a munition of rocks. The early and the latter rains had rendered their lands fertile, and the blessing of God had prospered them, in all that they set their hands to do. Thus Israel was emphatically a vineyard. But when God had a right to expect that the vines he had planted and nourished would bring forth grapes, they brought forth wild grapes. The very people he had chosen, killed his prophets, polluted his worship, and hewed down his altars; and finally imbrued their hands in the blood of his Son. Hence the parable, delivered by him who spoke as never man spake, must have had amazing point and force. It aroused their anger, and they would at once have laid hands on him, if they had not feared the multitude. God had a right to expect that they would welcome to their sanctuary the promised Redeemer, and would hail his birth as the pledge of their redemption. But in their cruelties to the Son of God, they acted out the native tem- per of the human heart, and showed themselves to be just such men as lived before and have lived since the period of the Savior's advent. What is said of Israel may be said of men in all ages:— THE SON OF GOD MUSf BE REVERENCED. 105 It might have been presumed that they would treat kindly the Son of God. This doctrine may be established by the following considera- tions : — I. That men would treat him kindly, might have been justly presumed, by the divinity and glory of his highest nature. He had a divine as well as human nature: he was " God manifest in the flesh." Previous to his coming, it had been as distinctly asserted, that he was divine, as that he would be human. That prediction of him, " To us a child is born, unto us a son is given : and the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be call- ed Wonderful, Counsellor, the mighty God, the everlasting Fa- ther, the Prince of Peace," had been read by the posterity of Abraham ; and foretold him in his divine and in his human charac ter. They had reason to expect a Savior, who built the worlds, and who governs the worlds he built. Hence the thought of treat- ing him with contempt was impious — like offering direct insult to Jehovah. And he had no sooner appeared, than both his natures became manifest. As man he hungered, while as God he created bread to feed the multitude : as man he thirsted, but as God he converted the water into wine 5 as man he could suffer, and bleed, and die, while as God he could make the sufferer whole ; and even summon the dead from their graves. Thus the accusers, the judges, and the executioners of the Lord Jesus, could have no want of evidence that he was the mighty God. Hence, it might have been presumed, that if he must die, God himself must slay him. He must come to his sepulchre by the immediate hand of Omnipotence. No one would dare to betray him, no soldiery would have hardihood enough to arrest him, no miscreant would sit to judge him, no multitude would insult him, none would dare to crucify him. And we should seem to reason correctly in all this, carrying ourselves back to the period before his coming. And still we should reason contrary to matters of fact. We should have said, anterior to his offering himself to men as their Mediator and their friend, that they would all accept his proffered friendship. When God himself offers to save, how can man reject him I He who now stretches out his hands to the wretch- ed and the lost of my readers, is the same infinite Redeemer who called Lazarus from the grave, who fed the multitude, who stilled the waves, who burst the bands of death, and proved his divinity by ascending triumphant on high. Angels, and other beings who 14. 106 THE SON OF GOD MUST BE REVERENCED. might know what an offer men would thus have of salval on by Jehovih himself, could not have believed that sinners would treat him as they do; — that from Sabbath to Sabbath they would hear his overtures, and turn their back upon him. They would not have conceived it possible that men, after all he has done, would question his divinity, and rob him of his glory, and persecute his people. If God should render himself visible, and stand from Sabbath to Sabbath with pardons in his hands, pressing men to accept forgive- ness and live, the obstinacy of sinners would appear just what it is. For one who is divine does thus stand. He appropriates to him- self all the glories of the Godhead, has the titles, does the works, possesses the attributes, receives the worship, and claims the honors of the Father. He is adored in heaven, under the appella- tion of the Lamb, in every anthem. And still he stands knocking unheeded at the door of the sinner's heart, till his head is wet with the dew, and his locks with the drops of the night ; till we hardly know which is the most surprising, his condescension or the sinner's obstinacy. " They will reverence my son." II. It might have been presumed that the Lord Jesus would be kindly treated by men, from the perfect excellence of his character as a man. There was nothing in him to provoke the anger of good beings. There was neither pride, nor jealousy, nor selfishness, nor passion, nor any of those evil affections that so often involve men in disgraceful broils. He was meek and lowly of mind. He had a character of perfect loveliness. His lips were charged with blessings, and not with curses : "there wns no guile found in his mouth." He loved the souls of men, more than he loved his life. There was nothing in him for men to blame or quarrel with, but every thing that could be desired to draw forth their strongest emotions of gratitude and love Who could conceive of a race of beings so vile, that they would quarrel with an angel ; yet angels have no such worth as was found in the Son of God. The prophets had human nature left, and might provoke the rage of their enemies, and tantalize their perse- cutors. They might demand the fruit of the vineyard in a manner, not the most condescending and kind, and might contribute, by their own unworthy conduct, to fan the fires that were kindling to consume them. And the apostles were men of like passions with those who mocked them, and stoned them. While they demand ed boldly, and promptly, the fruit of the vineyard, they might, per THE SON OF GOD MUST BE REVERENCED. 107 haps, sometimes make the demand rudely. But "they will rever- ence my son." Nothing that was wrong in prophets and apostles was found in him ; and what was wanting in them, was in him. He made every doctrine plain, and every duty clear and obvious. He never pressed the conscience till he had enlightened the un- derstanding, nor used an argument that was not sound and good. His honesty, and integrity, and wisdom, entitled him to the credit and kindness of all men. Now, are ungodly men aware, that it is this same kind and good Redeemer, who now offers to conduct them to the abodes of glo- ry, but whose kindness they spurn, and whose love they despise \ Could it have been believed by those who knew him and adored him, that men would thus treat him, as do all the impenitent ! " They will reverence my son." III. It might have been presumed, that men would treat kindly the Lord Jesus, from the reasonableness of his claims. He came not to reap where he had not sown, or gather where he had not strewed. He came not to demand allegiance when another had a better right to the sceptre than himself; he came not to a world that had another for its creator, its benefactor, and redeemer. He is emphatically represented as having come " to his own, but his own received him not." This world belongs to the Lord Jesus, from its foundation to its topstone. To him pertain the wisdom of having planned it, the glory of having built it, the right to govern it, and the authority to judge it. All creatures in him live, and move, and have their being. Hence he has a right to our services, independently on his redeeming^ right. The breath he gives he may require to utter itself in praise ; the arm he nerves he may tax with duty ; and the eye he enlightens he may reason- ably expect to regard him with perpetual complacency. And when we take into account the ransom price he paid, his own blood, by which he purchased anew the world that was his before, his claim to us and ours is too manifest to be disputed. " He gave himself a ransom for us, that he might redeem us from all iniquity, and purify to himself a peculiar people zealous of good works." In demanding our hearts, then, he demands what is his by a double right ; the right of creation and of purchase. We owe to him all we have, and all we are, and all we hope for. We can adore no other sovereign without treason against him, and serve no other master without robbery. All the angels of God are directed to worshiD him ; and if angels, who are his by feebler 108 THE SON OF GOD MUST BE REVERENCED. ties, must pay him supreme respect, then his right to us, and his property in us, none but devils, surely, can have the audacity to question. Hence, from the justness of his claims, it might have been presumed that men would treat well the Lord Jesus Christ. The vineyard and all its fruits are his. IV. It might have been presumed that men would treat well the Lord Jesus Christ from the condescending kindriess of his intentions. He stood in no need of us. He would have had an empire large enough to be the organ of his praise, if we had perished. " The chariots of God are twenty thousand, even thousands of angels." And if men had been passed by, and not redeemed, he would, no doubt, have drawn out to view, in some other way, his mercy and his wisdom, which now display themselves in the economy of re- demption. He might have redeemed, for aught we know, the lost angels ; or might have displayed redemption among the population of some other forlorn and ruined world, or might have revealed his gracious character to us, as he has his eternity, through the word of inspiration. Christ was not dependent on us either for the stability of his throno, or the promulgation of his glory, or the feli- city of his being. No motive brought him to our world but pure benevolence. He " so loved the world" that he gave himself as its ransom. Its miseries moved his pity, and he stooped to help us. He would not have come, had he not been kind and gracious. True, he showed a special regard to the law ; would have it honored ; would not allow one jot or tittle of it to fail ; and hence he may be viewed as having come " to establish the law ;" but it must be remembered, that the law might have been honored in its execution upon the guilty ; so that, independently on the idea of saving sinners, there was no need of the death of Christ, in order to honor the law. Hence his errand into our world was emphati- cally an errand of love. " God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life." The love of Christ was the ba- sis of the covenant of redemption. It led him to lay aside his glory, and cover himself with a veil of flesh, and become "ac- quainted with grief." — " Though he was rich, yet for our sakes he Decame poor, that we, through his poverty, might be rich." He who built all worlds, condescended to say of himself, "The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son of man hath not where to lay his head." Thus, "by grace are we saved." THE SON OF GOD MUST BE REVERENCED. 109 Now, it might have heen presumed that the Lord Jesus Christ on an errand so benevolent would have been treated well. His design was too kind to deserve any other than the kindest and most prompt reception. Had he gone to devils instead of men, it would seem impossible but they must have received him kindly, when on such an errand, with such heavenly designs. The very pit, it would seem, must have echoed with his praise. Hence, if men have a better character, as they boast they have, ask them how they receive the message of divine mercy. Does the Lord Jesus possess the throne of your heart 1 Is he the sovereign ob- ject of your fear, your love, your hope, and your worship 1 If not, then cast from you that exalted opinion of yourself, which raises you a single degree above the tenants of the pit. V. It might have been presumed, that men would treat well the Lord Jesus Christ, from his known ability to save. Had he come in such weakness as would have rendered the enterprise doubtful on which he had entered, there might have been a temptation to des- pise him. Had he failed in making the atonement, or been unable to change the heart, or proved inadequate to the work of leading on his people to' victory and glory, after he had enlisted them, then had he brought all the measures of his mercy into contempt, and angels would have refused to do him homage. But he was able to do all. He had but to lay down a life which none could take from him, and the price of our redemption was paid. He had but to speak the word, and the veriest rebel bowed to his mandate. And he has always with consummate skill, led on the sacramental hosts of his elect to the abodes of paradise. Hence, he is said to have " trodden the wine-press alone ;" he is represented as " travelling in the greatness of his strength ;" is said to " gird his sword upon his thigh ;" and to " ride forth conquering and to conquer." Now, we needed just such a Redeemer : one who was " mighty to save." We were in a condition too forlorn to be redeemed by any other than an almighty Savior. Hence, when such a Savior was offered, how could men do otherwise than kindly receive and joyfully embrace him 1 How could he fail to gain their confidence and love, and be chosen Captain of their salvation, their Lord, and their king! "They will reverence my son." VI. This might have been presumed, from his ability to destroy, as well as to save. The Savior comes, it is true, with an offer of mer- cy j but he comes, too, clothed with all the authority of the God- 110 THE SON OF GOD MUST BE REVERENCED head. He will one day say, as in the parable, " These, mine ene- mies, who would not that I should reign over them, bring them hither, and slay them before me." The offers he makes to sinners they cannot with impunity reject. A blessing offered us by our fellow-men may be received or not, as we please, and, if rejected, there accrues no guilt : not so the offer of mercy by Jesus Christ. He comes to demand our hearts as his throne ; and will bless us if we receive him ; but we are cursed if we reject him. And the sinner, it would seem, must know that he is strong to destroy. He hurled the rebel angels from heaven, and fastened them in chains under darkness till the judgment of the great day. He drowned a world, when it would not have him to reign over it. And all his foes he has sent to a hopeless perdition, as fast as they have evinced themselves incorrigibly wicked. Kind as are now his overtures, and extensive his promises, and prolonged his endu- rance, still, if you remain impenitent, he must stain his raiment with your blood. His eyes will be as flames of fire : and out of his mouth will go a sharp sword to smite the ungodly ; and on his vesture and on his thigh will be seen written, " King of kings and Lord of lords." How tremendous the thought, that the very Lord Jesus, at whose feet so many sinners have found par- don, will rise upon the finally incorrigible in all the greatness of his strength, and " tread them in his anger, and trample them in his fury !" To such a Prince, how fair the presumption, that every knee would bow and every tongue confess Finally, it might have been presumed that sinners would treat kindly the Lord Jesus, from their necessities. He found them " wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked." He passed by, and saw them as an infant " cast out into the open field," in the day that it was born. We had fallen under the curse of the broken law — had neither righteousness, nor holiness, nor happiness, nor hope. There was nothing for us but misery now, and "a fearful looking for of judgment, and fiery indignation, that must devour the adversary." Thus, our necessities put us in need of a friend — an almighty friend— one that could pity and ! clp the most miserable. Could it, then, have been presumed, that, should such a friend offer his aid, beings so lost and miserable could reject him ! ! One could sooner conceive that a beggar would spurn the plen- ty and the pleasures of a palace, and choose to lodge in the street ; or that the blind would choose to grope their way to the THE SON OF GOD MUST BE REVERENCED. Ill grave, when they might have vision ; or that a dying man would refuse the touch that might give him life and health. I close with three REMARKS. 1. The sinner's final ruin is unnecessary. All the purposes of his personal perdition may now he answered in the Savior. The law can be honored, and God honored, and he escape damnation. All the purity of the precepts, and all the attributes of the God- head, are displayed in the Lord Jesus Christ, far more amply than in the volume of "smoke that ascendeth up for ever and ever." O yes ; the cross, that everlasting monument of a dying Savior, reveals the Deity far more intellig-ibly than the " everlasting fire." Hence, the sinner is lost, not because of any necessity for his ruin ; not because of any doom that chained him down to death ; not because his salvation was impossible ; not because heaven could devise no other expedient for securing the divine veracity ; not because of anything we can think of — but that he "chose darkness rather than light" — and " death rather than life." Hence, 2. His ruin will be self-induced. By this, I do not mean merely that he is a voluntary agent in breaking the divine law. This sin always implies. I intend more than this. The sinner puts forth his hand, and thrusts from him the charter of forgiveness. He might have had life after he was condemned ; after his death-war- rant was written and sealed ; after the pit had been prepared to receive him Nay, when hell itself was begun in his bosom, and the divine \nger was consuming him — even then eternal life was possible,- but he " chose death !" Hence, Finally, his ruin will be wanton. He will be viewed for ever as having sported with his soul ; as if it had been a pearl, and he had run with it to the mouth of a pit, and cast it in ; or as if it had been a combustible world, and he with a torch had set it on fire Me employed himself in scattering fire-brands, arrows, and death, and stdl professed himself to be in sport. The man who plunges the knife into his own heart, does not more wantonly die, than the sinner is wantonly damned. Oh, how affecting, that hell should be thus peopled by a world of suicides, who dared the vengeance, and tantalized the compassion, and despised the for- bearance of the Eternal I It might reasonably have been presum- ed, " T/iey will reverence my son." But no ! insulted Jehovah ! they pour indignity upon his name and his cross, despise his mes- sengers, and "perish in their sins," rather than do him homage, and humbly seek redemption through his blood. SERMON VII. THE TWO CHAMPIONS CONTRASTED. ISAIAH XL. 30, 31. Even the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall : but they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength ; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk and not faint. The sentiment is often entertained, that religion is suited only for the weak, the aged, and the infirm ; but is quite 2iseless, if not trijuriotis, to the young, healthful, and prosperous. When we have yielded all the respect we can to men who advance this sen- timent, we must still pity their delusion. It can never be said that piety injures the young man. He may cultivate in connection with it all the amiable properties of human nature. May be mild and affable ; may be decent and ardent ; modest and courageous. These lovely and noble qualities religion does not eradicate, but cherish. Can it cast a shade of deformity over them, to add the love and fear of God, who is supremely amiable 1 Are men so hostile to their Maker, that respect for him, and obedience to him, must make a wound incurable in one's reputation'? Then must it be acknowledged, that this is indeed a fallen world. Is it feared that religion in the young man will cramp his genius, and stop the march of intellect 1 It would be strange indeed, if a taste for the noblest of all sciences, the knowledge of God and his truth, should narrow the mind, and limit the flight of genius. Such a result would contradict all experience, and give the lie to the first principles of mental science. Is it feared that piety will wither and paralyze the native fear- lessness of youth, and render tame and cowardly the man whose courage and daring might have astonished the world] Does then the love of God, the very principle that makes alliance with the hosts of heaven, and with God himself, diminish our courage, and make us fly "when no man pursuethl" We should expect it to be far otherwise, ami should look for a bravery that no danger could daunt, when there is for our defence a host of angels, and One "higher than the highest." The Psalmist reasoned thus, and said, " The Lord is my strength, of whom shall 1 be afraid 1" And THE TWO CHAMPIONS CONTRASTED. 113 Paul said, "I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me." What is it, then, that in the esteem of the ungodly, renders re- ligion so uncomely in the young man 1 Where does it fix defor- mity 1 True, it does render him less covetous of this world's goods, and less ambitious of its honors, less daring in its deeds of darkness, less deceitful, and less intriguing. But is he the less a man and deserving of less esteem 1 In such a suggestion there is an infidelity too bare-faced to be hidden. The amount of it is, that piety implies the fear of God ; and this is, to the ungodly, the most offensive of all attributes. The text will lead us to look at the two characters — the youth who sets out to press his way through life and death by the dint of native courage, and the one who Avaits on the Lord, and thus gathers strength from heaven to bear him on to victory and glory. I would here premise, that this is a stormy life. Upon every man, more or less, the tempests will beat. Be his character godly or ungodly, he will have foes, and meet dangers, and suffer hard- ships, and feel afflictions, and will say, before he gets through, that he is passing a desert world. Now we must encounter the calamities of life by native prowess, or by the courage of piety : Which will aid us the best 1 This is the question which I wish may be pondered with solemnity for a few moments. / shall mention some of the storms of life, that we shall all be sure to meet ; and inquire, as I pass on, which has the safest defence — the mere man of the world, or the man of piety. I. We shall all probably part with beloved friends. The ties that bind them to us are slender, the sport of every wind that blows, and every dew that falls. They are ours only by loan, and must be resigned. We may have warnings of their departure, or may have none. They may be torn from us at the moment of our highest attachment — when our life is bound up in theirs — when it shall seem to us that we have nothing to stay for, if they must leave us. This calamity will certainly come, alike upon the good man and the unbeliever. Which will sustain it best ? They stand to- gether by the death-bed of a mother, a father, a sister, a brother : they have the same instinctive passions ; they both feel the stroke, and must try to outlive it. But by what principles shall they brace their minds against the storm \ The unbeliever may hope to forget his sorrow, or find some other friend as good, or draw from something else, the comfort he 15 lit THE TWO CHAMPIONS CONTRASTED. has enjoyed in his dying friend. But all this is a distant and un- certain relief. He will find it difficult to forget his friend, and he dare not wish to, and months, or even years, must elapse before he can hope to. Nor will he find it easy to supply the place of his friend. Such friends do not rain down from heaven, do not spring up from the ground, cannot be bought. A mother, for in- stance,— who can supply her place 1 Who, like her, will wear out her nature to serve you, and watch by your sick bed, and feel every pang, and wipe away your tears 1 What friend will become dear to you as your brother, and suffer to befriend you, and endure any thing but death to save you ] I know "there is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother ;" but he is the friend of the god- ly, not yours. And you will find it difficult, if you have lost a friend, to secure the same amount of enjoyment elsewhere. Friends are our choicest blessings. Wealth is trash, and fame is air ; but a friend, in this cold-hearted world, is a precious pearl. See then how distant and doubtful is the consolation of the un- godly. Take some of the still nearer and dearer friends, and the case is more hopeless still. The mother must see her child taken into the cold embrace of death. And she tries, does she 1 to live through it without divine support. Now where and when will she find one, who will call her mother, and feel her pains, and Avateh her tears, and sooth her miseries 1 Oh, I hear her say, unless she has still another son, "My gray hairs will come down with sorrow to the grave. I shall go weeping to the sepulchre for my son." Or the dying friend is a wife. Go now, and find, if you can, one who will be a mother to your children. Try if you can for- get her endearments. Try if you can find in any other object the amount of joy you had in her. Oh, how the agonies of the ungod- ly wring pity from our hearts. This is the onset when " the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall.'' No native vigor can enable one to brow-beat a storm like this, and not be, in the result, a hopeless and desponding sufferer. The heart loses its courage, soon as it enters the conflict. No cold philosophy can reason down affection, or mitigate the agonies of separation. And the poor surviver, if an unbeliever, can only " lie down in sorrow." But not so the Christian, who waits upon the Lord. He has in heaven a better Friend than he has lost, and can smile at the ravages of death, as hurting only some of his minor interests. He can immediately transfer the affection lie fixed upon his friend to THE TWO CHAMPIONS CONTRASTED. H5 Cod ; and reap, in an hour, a return infinitely better than my fruits of earthly friendship. He holds all his living friends as the loan of Heaven, ready to be transferred to their original Proprietor. And in the hour of trial his soul utters with deep sincerity, " The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away ; blessed be the name of the Lord." He has not to wait till he can forget his friend, or find another, or procure a substitute. He "waits upon the Lord," and is thus strengthened for the hour, and becomes happy in the midst of tears. He passes through the waters, but God is with hiin ; and through the floods, but they do not overflow him. He walks through the fire, but is not burned, neither does the flame kindle upon him. His song is, " The Lord liveth ; and blessed be my Rock ; and let the God of my salvation be exalted." He never calculated on any very durable good from earthly things, as does the unrenewed man. Hence he is not disappointed. His best hopes are not cut ofT, nor his richest prospects darkened. God has been as good to him as his promises, and better than his own fears. His trials will soon end in heaven. There he will join a circle of friends to whom he has been long more attached than to any other. Thus he mounts as on eagles' wings, scales the very heavens, runs and is not weary, walks and is not faint. At how many funerals have we witnessed this wide contrast be- tween the native prowess of a mind unsanctified, and the fortitude of a man of God strengthened for the trial by the light of his countenance. Come, then, my young friends, let me assure you, how only you can be happy in the hour of bereavement. You may suppress your tears when you attend the funeral of your mother, or your brother, but nature will feel. You may put on the stoic, but the heart will bleed. You may try to cheer your spirits, but your strength will fail, unless God, in that hour, is your refuge, your very present help. If you intend to live without him, you need hope for no thing but that his waves and his billows will often come over you, while there will be no comforter. You have twenty dear friends, and one may die each year, these twenty years ; and ere then you may die yourself. Thus the heart will bleed, and you will be cov- ered with the weeds of death all the way to the sepulchre. 1 should not choose to be one of your friends, unless I could believe that you would think of me when I was gone one year : that my funeral solemnities would create a cloud, that would cast its shade upon you till the sun had performed at least one annual revolution Let each friend make the same demand, and you have no divine 116 THE TWO CHAMPIONS CONTRASTED. support under your bereavements, and you readily see that the whole of life is a cloudy and dark day. I have noticed yet the loss of friends by death only ; but we may lose them more tremendously by desertion. Let the hour come when it shall not be popular to be your friend, and when many who have sought your acquaintance, and received your hospitality, and waited to know and do your pleasure, shall hide their face from you ; then is the hour when "the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall ; but they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength ; they shall mount up with wings as eagles ; they shall run and not be weary, and they shall walk and not faint." I know there is a buoyancy in the hu- man heart, that may seem for a moment to sustain you. You can despise the man whose sycophancy deceived you, but who was never your friend, and has now only uncovered to you the rotten- ness of his heart. You can resolve to despise the men who are the friends of your prosperity, but not of your adversity ; and they deserve to be despised: but you will feel a pain dart through you in that hour, which you must sustain, either by your native prow- ess or by a higher courage. Would you trust in an arm of flesh 1 Ah ! but this arm fails you ; and then, where will you lean 1 Now, the good man has no misgivings in such an hour. With him it is a living maxim, " it is a very small thing that I should be judged of you, or of man's judgment ; but he that judgeth me is the Lord." Paul could keep up all his courage while in the midst of a people who not long before would have plucked out their eyes and given them to him, but were now become his enemies because he told them the truth. And the Lord Jesus Christ, who had all the ten- derness of our nature, could, without despair, hear the cry, " Cru- cify him! crucify him!" uttered by that same multitude whose blind he had made to see, whose lame to walk, whose lepers he had cleansed, whose sick he had healed, and whose dead he had raised. All this one can easily sustain who has an almighty friend in heaven. He can pour a holy contempt upon the wavering men who have no principle, and will desert him when he needs their friendship most. He can stand erect, because God is with hicn. But how can you stand, who have no such friend, but whose whole kindred are in this deceitful world 1 Here is the spot where it will again happen that " the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall ; but they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run and not be tveary ; and they shall walk and not faint." THE TWO CHAMPIONS CONTRASTED. H") II. Amid the changes of this ill-fated world we shall all be liable to suffer the loss of property. No treasure but that which is laid up in heaven is secure : our houses may burn down over our heads ; our streams may fail ; a foe may rob us of our rights ; we may be called to spend all we have upon physicians ; we may lose our spirit of enterprise ; our reason may desert us. All the good things of this life are ready to take Avings and fly away. Now, can the man who has no treasure in heaven sustain his spirit, as can the man of faith and of prayer 1 By what consider- ation can he comfort his soul, when ye shall have taken away his gods'? When he is robbed of his best treasures, of all he has in the life that now is, while he has nothing in the life to come, how can he fail to sink \ Says the sacred penman, " Their rock is not as our Rock, our enemies themselves being judges." He who has no interest in that house not made with hands, eternal in the hea- vens, how can he part with his temporal habitation ? He who has no treasure which moth and rust cannot corrupt, how can he part with his corruptible riches'? He who has no greatness or glory in the kingdom of God, how can he dispense with that which ren- ders him great in the present world 1 Made once poor for time, how can he hope for any thing else but eternal bankruptcy ! If he should hope to rise again, still this is " a hope deferred which mak- eth the heart sick." If he try to be great in his poverty, still, in a world like this, he will find it difficult, not to say impossible. If he would try to be happy, while yet he is small, here pride erects an insurmountable barrier. He lacks all the means of being happy. The good he values, his only good, is gone. The heaven he built for himself had no foundation, and the storms have swept it away. Poor soul, how completely is he made a bankrupt and a beggar ! and how impossible that he should retrieve his circumstances, till he is altered essentially in his disposition and character! But things are not thus desperate with the good man when he finds his estate diminished. We read of those who "took joyfully the spoiling of their goods, knowing in themselves that they had in heaven a better and an enduring substance." The friends of God have laid up for themselves " treasures in heaven, where nei- ther moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal." They have provided themselves with " gar- ments that wax not old," and have " a house not built with hands, eternal in the heavens." In the midst of losses they often see that the riches they have parted with stood between them and God, and made them less happy and less holy than they may be with- IIS THE TWO CHAMPIONS CONTRASTED. out them. They held the heart divided, and kept it cold, and worldly, and selfish, and sordid. Now the clog is removed, and they can mount up as on the wings of eagles. They have now nothing but heaven to care for ; what they have lost they could have used but a little while, and they can mount higher without it. They still have all that God ever promised ; their bread and their water is made sure. If they can never be rich here, still they can hope for durable riches and righteousness in the life to come. If they must toil hard, still their rest will at last be long and sweet. If they must be small and unnoticed, still there awaits them " a crown of glory " in the life to come. Thus, how evident that no native prowess can enable one to conflict with the storms of lifo like the grace of God. III. But let us try the prowess of the two champions in another conflict. While one storm shall beat upon friendship, and another upon property, another still may make its assault upon character. This you know is valuable as life. "A good name is better than precious ointment." Being depraved, we are vulnerable at every point. " There is no man that liveth and doeth good and sinneth not." We break the laws of God and of man ; we violate the dic- tates of conscience, and the rules of righteousness ; and that man knows nothing of himself, that does not acknowledge all this, — hence we become justly exposed. Men can injure us, and say the truth. But what is more yet, the utmost uprightness of character does not secure from the attack of slander. If men cannot find enough that is true, they can unblushingly fabricate the rest. And -no man, godly or ungodly, is wholly secure. The godly are fore- warned, that as men have called the Master of the house of Beel- zebub, so much rather will they calumniate the household. And now, which, think you, will be the best support through this storm, native prowess, or supernatural grace \ You have known the un- godly man to be slandered. Men have accused him of deeds he never did, have wronged him, and abused him. And he set him- self to oppose the tempest. He cursed his accusers, and returned every blow they dealt, and raved at the foe, and sinned more grossly than he ever had before. He plotted revenge, and pursued it, and perhaps obtained it. But after all was done, was he not rather the vanquished than the conqueror 1 Did he stand on more elevated ground when he quit, than when he began the conflict \ THE TWO CHAMPIONS CONTRASTED. 119 Ah, he overcame the evil with evil, and sunk the deeper by hit at- tempts to rise. Let us view the most favorable case. The man abused is un- godly, but has the properties that constitute an amiable man. He meets the assault with all the calmness and all the patience he can command. He reasons, " If they destroy my reputation, they take my interest too, and then what have I left." Having no sense of sin, he is not humble, and will not be very patient. He will not exercise a spirit of forgiveness, nor a spirit of meekness, nor see the wisdom of God in the appointment, nor hope for an augmenta- tion of his enjoyments as the final result. Hence he must be un- happy and must be a loser. His courage may in a sense sustain him, but while he stands he will still be wounded, and perhaps de- stroyed. Now the man of God in such a conflict has a heavenly armor. In the very onset he takes the shield of faith. He is patient, be- cause he sees it to be the hand of God. He is calm from the con- viction, that, dark as the storm may lower, he is safe. If his cha- racter should be injured, it only assimilates his condition to that of his divine Lord. He has that sense of sin that renders him humble. He exercises a spirit of meekness and of forgiveness, and this renders him happy. In the event, as a divine appointment, he sees the wisdom of God, and hopes and believes that in the issue God will be glorified, and his own best good promoted. " To me," he can say with the apostle, " it is a very light thing that I should be judged of you, or of man's judgment." Can he only hope to stand approved in the last great day, all decisions of falli- ble men to the contrary, have not, with him, the weight of a feather. Would an angel care, if the whole population of this world should assemble in a mass, and pronounce him a sinner or a fool ! He would know that he might still hold the same standing in the sight of God. So the man of faith can soar and act the angel in the hour of onset. He does not, and dares not depend on any na- tive strength of his own, " but waits upon the Lord, and renews his strength." IV. We are all liable to disease and death. God has not ex- empted his people, and certainly not his enemies, from this cala- mity. Disease and death are the wages of sin. And here it often happens literally, that " even the youths are faint and weary." We have seen nature struggling with disease even in the very moru- 120 THE TWO CHAMPIONS CONTRASTED. ing of life. The young man, strong and vigorous to-day, panting for breath to-morrow, and in a few days sinking into an untimely sepulchre. Now the man who hopes to meet all this by native courage, it would seem must be destitute of the power of reasoning. The very nature of the calamity augurs that he will have neither strength nor courage to bear it. It is the very first effect of dis- ease to render faint and weary — to dishearten and unnerve. The veriest Goliath is a child, when he wrestles with the plague or the pestilence. How then can he stand in the contest 1 The mind is enfeebled with the body : hence he cannot reason down his alarms and his apprehensions; cannot sustain his own sinking spirits. He who a few days since would not have feared to meet single-handed the hardiest foe that might take the field, cannot now raise his head, and is in fear, where no danger is. He may have some consolation from the hope of recovery. But this one hope, tremulous and often forlorn, is the only stay of his. soul that remains. If he must die, he is lost for ever. But here the man of God does not thus sink and perish. He is conscious that he deserves the chastisement ; hence has no quarrel with the power that afflicts. He submits and is calm. He has the promise that God will sustain him, will be with him in six troublesi and in seven will not forsake him. " When flesh and heart fail him, God will be the strength of his heart and his portion for ever, — all things shall work together for good to them that love God;" and these promises were all made with design to be fulfilled Hence the good man, when he suffers, can leave himself with God. Every care and every interest he rolls over upon his generous and almighty Supporter. To him " to live is Christ, and to die is gain." He can cheerfully wait his "appointed time," and can hope that there is laid up for him "a crown of life that fadeth not." But what is over and above all this, he enjoys the smiles of God. These lighten his pains and give him joy and peace. Hence sung the weeping poet, " The chamber where the good man meets his fate, Is privileged beyond the common walk Of virtuous life, quite on the verge of heaven." On the very dying-bed have we heard the triumphant song. " I mount, 1 fly." Infidelity may declare all this visionary ; but it is none the less a reality. It is what God has promised, what his THE TWO CHAMPIONS CONTRASTED. 12l people expect, what the diseased and the dying have told us they enjoyed, and is no more incredible than the new birth, at which the ruler of the Jews marvelled. Now take from the mass of the ungodly the sturdiest youth you can name, and let him go to his chamber and grapple with disease and death; and place in the adjoining chamber the man of prayer, in precisely the same distressing attitude ; and tell me which shall have the palm. The one shall use all his native mind and muscle, shall brace himself against the paroxysms of disease, and cheer up his spirits, and resist the fear of death, and to the full extent of his power, stay his false hope, and wake up his courage. His brave associates shall come round him and ply their sophistry to put down his pains, and put out the eye of conscience, and hide hell from him, and God from him, and his own history from him. And no Bible shall be near him, nor pastor near him, nor prayers be offered. He shall have through the whole conflict all the help that earth and hell can give him. The other shall but make use of prayer and faith, shall stay himself upon his Redeemer, and encourage himself in the Lord his God, and cast the anchor of his hope within the veil. Now tell me which of the two will triumph in the storm. Ah ! I see the strong one bow. Ye that hate the Lord, let me assure you, your champion is foiled in the contest, "Even the youths shall faint." V. I have thought of several other occasions where the ungodly man and the man of faith will have opportunity to test their prow- ess in the same conflict, but I will add only one. They must both pass the review of the last judgment. " We must all stand before the judgment-seat of Christ." And to set any value upon a spirit of enterprise or of daring, that will not carry us through that last scene, is to play the fool. I wish to cultivate the principles that will carry me through. Now follow, if you please, one of the most daring of the unbe- lievers to the last tribunal. How will he manage there 1 Can he hide his sins 1 Can he palliate them, or neutralize them1. Can he prove that the law was too severe, or the penalty unjust \ Can he offer any eloquent plea why he should be acquitted 1 Will any anffcl plead for him 1 Will the blessed Redeemer be his advocate ? Will his courage live and thrive in that conflict 1 If weighed in the balance, will he not be found wanting 1 If convicted, will not sen- tence go forth against him 1 Will devils be afraid to convey him to the place of torment ] Suppose him, if you please, to have weathered 16 122 THE TWO CHAMPION'S CONTRASTED. every other storm, how will he conflict with "everlasting burn- ings ! By what daring arguments will he keep hope alive in hell, and resist the embrace of despair, or put out the " unquenchable fires ?" Come, ye that intend to brave it through without grace, that dare to live, and expect to die, without an interest in the Lord Jesus, approach the precincts of the pit, and inquire how your champion fares in this last conflict ! Does he stand or fall 1 Does his courage abide by him 1 May you venture, or not, to join your destiny with his 1 Let this point be settled before you ven- ture into your dying chamber without the grace of God. And how does it fare with the man of faith in the same conflict 1 He ventures not to come to the judgment-seat alone, supported by any courage which his depraved heart can generate. He comes clothed with a Savior's righteousness, owns his guilt, and pleads the atoning blood of the Redeemer. When bid, " Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world ;" his reply is " When saw we thee an hungered, and fed thee 1 or thirsty, and gave thee drink \ When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee in 1 or naked and clothed thee 1 Or when saw we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee 1" Then will be heard from the throne of judgment, " Inas- much as you have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me." You recollect the amazing result. They who come to that throne in their own name, and hoped to stand by their own native prowess, " shall go away into everlasting punishment, prepared for the devil and his angels.'''' Let me say, then, fellow-sinner, while you resolve to trust in man, or in any thing short of an omnipotent Savior, there remains for you "no hope " but a "fearful looking for of judgment and fiery indignation." If it seem to you, however, that your cause will succeed, you have only to make the trial. Storms will beat upon you : but if you still think your own heart can generate all the prowess you shall need in the conflicts of life, and death, and judgment, then you must try. It is my duty, however, to assure you, " that even the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall." But, on the other hand, there is " strong consolation to you who trust in the Lord.'1'' The promise is, that " you shall mount up on wings as eagles, shall run and not be weary, and walk and not faint." Now God will do all that he has said ; will succor you as he has promised, will enlighten your darkness, will provide you a retreat in temptation, will cover your head in the day of battle, THE TWO CHAMPIONS CONTRASTED. 123 will give his angels charge concerning you, and in their hands they shall bear you up, till you have trodden the whole desert through, and passed over Jordan, and entered the New Jerusalem, to go no more out for ever. While, then, "the wicked perish at the presence of God" — while it becomes them to " weep and howl for their miseries that shall come upon them" — " let the righteous be glad ; let them rejoice before God ; yea, let them exceedingly rejoice." SERMON VIII. THE SOUL RELUCTANTLY MADE FAST TO EARTH. psai.m cxix. 25. My soul cleavetli unto the dust : quicken thou me according to thy word. The Christian is a man of heavenly birth. That world where Christ is he considers his home, and, till he arrives there, he views himself a pilgrim and a stranger. There are his best friends, there he has deposited his treasures, and thither faith often directs his flight, and fixes his delightful gaze. Hence the Christian is never more unhappy than when he becomes attached to the things of the earth. If the dove should lose her wings, with which she used to soar among the branches, and be constrained to crawl with rep- tiles, and feed on the serpent's food, she would not be more expa- triated, than the man of heavenly birth when cleaving to the dust. Such a state, guilty as he may be in every step of his decline, can hardly be said to be his choice. It is a state over which he mourns, and at which he is himself astonished. He is dissatisfied, and, like a dislocated bone, aches to be restored. If he should find him- self contented and happy, while alienated from God, it would cut off his last shred of hope. The less he hopes, and the more un- happy, the more hopeful is his case. The text contains a confessioti, a prayer, and a plea. I. It contains a confession, "My soul cleaveth to the dust." The Psalmist felt that his mind had become sordid. The things of the earth occupied too much his attention, and engrossed too exclu- sively his affections ; and the dreadful consequence was that he lost his relish for heavenly things. He was, in his own esteem, a wretched outcast, and calculated to remain a vagabond till God should be pleased to quicken him. If any would know whether this is their state, I will endeavor to afford them help. It is a dis- eased state of a heavenly mind, and the disease, like all others, has its peculiar characteristics. 1. One in such a state will neglect duty. It is a burden, because there is no pleasure felt in the performance. Thus he may justify his neglect, and may half believe that what he thought duty, in THE SOUL RELUCTANTLY MADE FAST TO EARTH. l'^ the days of his espousals, was a mistake. But surely, then was the time, and not now, to decide what is duty. Then the con- science was tender, then was felt a lively gratitude, and a strong sense of obligation. Then the rules of duty, as far as they were known, were regarded. The question then is, what did we think to be duty in the day of our espousals to Christ 1 Do we act, as we then resolved to act in all the varied relationship of life, and especially in our relationship to Christ 1 Do we pray as often and as fervently \ Do we read the Scriptures as diligently and as prayerfully 1 Do we walk as circumspectly 1 Are we as faithful to admonish, as free to speak, for God, as diligent in searching the heart 1 And is the thought of sin repelled with that promptness and with that holy decision exercised during the first week of our regenerate state ? Or do we cleave to the dust 1 Then we soared on heavenly wings, our conversation was above, our treasures there, our home there, our all there. If you doubt, whether in the fervency of your first love was the time to fix the laws of duty, I ask when can we best judge how worthy God is to be loved and served, if not when our hearts have been warmed with his love 1 When would you be willing that your friend should decide how he should treat you X When his attachment was strong, or when, for some assignable cause, his affections had become alienated ? The amount of these remarks is, God has given us general laws, and commissioned conscience to apply them to our particular circumstances. When shall con- science enter upon this duty % If when tender, and before it has been injured by the coldness and wickedness of a relapsed state, how will matters stand with us, as it regards the discharge of duty, on measuring ourselves by this rule 1 2. A state of relapse is generally marked by a heartless perform,' ance of those duties which are not entirely neglected. A wander- ing mind in prayer, accompanied with deadness, dulness, formality, and a total absence of all that fervor, affection, tenderness, and heavenly aspiration which characterize the duties of the saint awake, are the dire symptoms of this disease of the soul. As an observing believer once remarked, "Christians in such a state pray as if they were not acquainted with God." They do not go to him melted with filial affection. They lie like slaves beneath the throne. Ask them to pray, and they exhibit guilt ; and come to the mercy-seat, as the convict approaches the gallows, with the halter about his neck. They will hide in corners that they may not be asked to officiate in the duties of religion, and consider it a 126 THE SOUL RELUCTANTLY MADE FAST TO EARTH. calamity to be discovered. They are sometimes distressed at the approach of the communion season. They are too guilty to have a right there, and too dull to have an errand there. The very Sab- bath aggravates their miseries, by compelling them to attend to duties for which they have lost the relish. Thus the frost of an untimely winter chills every duty, and blights every privilege. 3. The state I describe is always attended with a pressure of worldly care. The mind ever presses after some object. To the believer, acting in character, God is that object. His heart is above, his hopes are there, and there centre his warmest affec- tions. But when he descends from that centre, he comes within the attraction of earth, and basely gives the creature those affec- tions he used to fix on God. It is as true that where the heart is there will his treasures be, as that where the treasure is there will the heart be. And our treasure will always need our care, will engross our time, and employ our energies. Hence the Christian whose faith is low, and who lets go his grasp of heaven, as neces- sarily becomes a worldling, as the man who has never risen above the clod he treads. How long he may remain astray is uncertain, surely not so long but that God will quicken him before he die. But his injured Lord may bring him back with stripes. The more he loves his children, the more certain is it that he will chastise them. Probably not long will he be permitted to be a worldlings if God has intended any very eminent station for him in heaven. 4. The wandering believer must be the subject of small enjoy- ments. The new-born man can never love this poor world with all his heart. He could have a higher relish for its pleasures if he had never known a better good, if he had never had a glimpse of heaven. The peasant is quite content with his cottage, but make him once a prince, and then reduce him to poverty, and his cot- tage has lost all its charms. He may through necessity tarry there, but it can never be animated as it used to be with his smiles, and his songs. So the Christian, however worldly he may become, however sordid and tcrrine, can never entirely forget that in hea- ven he has a better home. Having made by faith one excursion into the third heavens, it must be impossible that he should after- ward do anything more than pitch his tent below ; he cannot pro- ject the idea of a permanent home in a world that loves him so little, or rather hates him so cordially. Hence the impenitent man ran find in earthly things a more satisfying good than the strayed believer THE SOUL RELUCTANTLY MADE FAST TO EARTH. 121 And while he is thus forbidden to be happy in the things of earth, he is also cut off from any sweet intercourse with Heaven. He loses his hope of future blessedness. And the more readily he relinquishes a hope which has no present holiness of life for its support, the better evidence will he give that Christ is formed in him the hope of glory. He in this gives evidence that he under- stands the nature of holiness : that it must bear fruit. Or he may retain his hope, but it will not be very big with consolations. His spring of comforts is dried up. The Sabbath used to be to him a day of holy, happy rest, but now its hours are dark, and disturbed with the goadings of a guilty conscience. The gospel was once to him a river of life. He guided his steps by its precepts; he hung his hopes on its promises ; he fed his soul on its doctrines, and his prospects were illumined by its prophecies. He heard it with joy, considered it the voice of Heaven, and pressed it to his bosom as his richest treasure. Now it has become a sealed book, a dead letter. In the ordinances, he used to banquet with his Lord, forgot his cares, softened his trials, had sweet foretastes of heaven, and stanched every wound with the balm of life. But they are now become mere beggarly elements. The closet is covered with the darkness of Egypt ; where he used to be so happy, where he caught his prospects of heaven, where he often wept away his miseries, and had enjoyments with which the stranger intermeddleth not. His alliance to the saints, once the sweetest bond on earth, has lost almost all its charms. Thus the saint relapsed is cut off from the enjoyments of both worlds. His con- version has spoiled the present world, that it cannot be to him a source of high delight, and his relapse has placed a cloud between him and heaven. A heavenly mind in such a state, is more an oh- ject of commiseration than any other on which the sun, in all his course, can look. To cleave to the earth after being born of God, is a fall, like which, there has been nothing similar since the angels made their bed in hell. The moral disease, which I have thus endeavored to describe, is prevalent, contagious, sinful, and ruinous. It is, in every view we c;>.n take, the deadliest plague that ever spent its fury upon a heaven-born soul. It is prevalent — many of our churches throng with professors who are so earthly and sensual as hardly to be distinguished from the mass from which they have been selected. And it sometimes happens in a Church, that there are so few that may be considered exceptions, that one would suppose they had acted in concert, and 128 THE SOUL RELUCTANTLY MADE FAST TO EARTH. had agreed, unanimously, to become apostates. Were not tho evil so prevalent it would be less deplorable. Could we always be sure that there were enough awake to watch the interests of the Church, the danger would diminish ; they might exert an agency, if any foe approached, to arouse their brethren. The very savages could teach us a lesson. When they meet to indulge themselves in the pleasures of inebriation, they are careful to select several of their company, who shall have no share in the brutal pleasure, that they may keep watch over their brethren in their defenceless state. It would be well if a Church, when they intend to sleep, would appoint their sentinels, who might alarm them if danger approached, and wake them before the bridegroom came. This dire disease is contagious. If the Christian could sleep, or become stupid or worldly, without infecting his brethren, it would be a smaller evil. But we are so constituted that imitation is one of the most powerful principles of our nature, and is a prime-agent in the formation of character, and we naturally imitate those we love. Hence, when a believer falls to sleep, becomes worldly, or neglects the means of grace, those who love him stray with him. And the influence he has, while it qualifies him to do the more good, enables him also to extend sterility and death to the full extent of that influence. It is not easy to describe the sinfulness of thus forsaking God. It is offering him direct and legible insult. It reads to the world this lying lesson : " We have tried the pleasures of religion, and find them poor. Its duties and its cares result in disappointment and misery ; and we return to serve mammon." Whether God will endure this insult, judge ye. It cannot be a light thing to break covenant with a pardoning Redeemer, and trample under our feet the seals and blood of that covenant. To give all his promises the lie, and to barter away our hopes of heaven, for the pleasures of a dream, is a course of conduct which God will not, cannot readily forgive. But the crime will glare yet more when we read its ruinous consequences. The backslider endangers his own soul. I know that God's everlasting covenant secures the salvation of every be- liever, but how shall it be known who is a believer 1 "We shall know the Lord if we follow on to know him" We shall be saved, " if we endure to the end." We shall, finally, be fitted for the king- dom, if u-c do not put our hand to the plough and look back. God will work in us to will and to do of his good pleasure, but we are THE SOUL RELUCTANTLY MADE FAST TO EARTH. 129 to work out our salvation with fear and trembling. Hence the be liever, by remaining in a state of relapse a single day, darkens his evidence of faith, and increases the dreadful probability that his hope is false, and his state alarming. Thus he suspends his own soul over the bottomless pit. And we have already said that his disease is contagious. Thus he exposes his brethren to the same hopeless, comfortless, and fearful state. The injury he does himself may be the smallest part of the evil. He wounds himself, but he may, by his example and his influence, inflict a deeper and a deadlier wound in the hearts of his brethren. Bad conduct will have more influence than good. In doing wrong we fall in with the full tide of human depravity, and press men downward, the way they incline to go. It is far easier to damn men than to save them. With a very small exertion one may stain his garments with blood, but to save a soul from death is a great work. And we must not forget that not upon his brethren merely does the backslider exert a baneful influence, but upon all about him ! Sinners never feel so justified in their deeds as when they copy the example of a professed believer. Many a time have they shamed us with this remark, " If mine is the path to hell, your Christians will perish with me." And how dreadful to escape to heaven, and carry with us the recollection that we have sent others to hell ! To look about us, as we enter heaven, and see on our skirts the stain of the blood of souls! To descry from the battlements of the upper temple, our neighbors, our brethren, our children in the pit, lost through our example ! Then, brethren, we shall want a place to weep. And many a time, it would seem, must the heavenly song be interrupted, by the recollection of the mischief we have achieved. And who can say that the redeemed soul may not itself be a loser forever by every instance of relapse. It stints his growth. Could you make a plant to grow, if you should remove it from the sun and the rain, and place it in a vault. Leave it there but a single week and then return it to its wonted bed, and who can doubt, but that the injury it has sustained, will be visible on the approach of winter 1 And why will not the believer, if he arrive at heaven, be forever a smaller vessel of mercy, because of his baekslidings 1 While he cleaves to earth he ceases to grow in knowledge and in grace. The work of sanctification is stationary, and the powers of the soul cease to expand. It is a state of disease, and the spirit pines, till the return of health. There is no relish for the previous 17 130 THE SOUL RELUCTANTLY MADE FAST TO EARTH. provisions of the gospel, the soul's food. Hence it decays ; loses its beauty and its strength ; is the prey of famine, and thus stints its future growth. One may lose as much in a period of decline, as it can gain in thrice that period. And why will not the evil be visible forever 1 The degree of blessedness to which we shall be admitted when we die, will bear proportion to the life we live. " Every man shall receive according to his works." He whose pound had gained five pounds was made ruler over five cities ; and he whose pound had gained ten over ten. There will be a differ- ence in heaven we know, as one star differeth from another star in glory. And we cannot see how obedience can be rewarded, unless our future crown shape its glory by our present improve- ments. It is believed that glorified spirits will be the subjects of endless increase in joy and blessedness. Hence, if we begin our heavenly growth with different statures, why will not the difference widen, and widen, and widen for ever 1 Each will be perfectly happy j each will find its cup of enjoyment full ; but one will be a larger vessel of mercy than another. Hence, why will not the fatal effects of our guilty relapses extend and widen through all the years of heaven ? And what pity a heavenly mind should have any thing to impede its growth. How incalculable is the calamity that a spirit, born with the faculty of endless expansion, should be cum- bered and compressed with clods of clay ! Yet such is the dis- tressing fact ; a fact at which the angels might well be grieved, and at which God himself pours out lamentation, " Oh that thou hadst hearkened to my commandments ! then had thy peace been as a river, and thy righteousness as the waves of the sea." De- pend upon it, brethren, that is a great calamity which can awaken such sympathy and create such regret in the eternal mind. If any objector should say, " If God so tenderly loves his people, why does he permit them to do themselves such incurable mis- chief 1" The answer is obvious ; — God does not intend to make them as happy as he could make them. He could have made them angels instead of men. He could have made them men, and yet possessed of nobler capacities, fitting them for sublimer enjoy- ments. But every question on these subjects is impudent. And for the same reason that God created them as he did, he permits them all to be less happy than they might be, and makes some happier than others. To measure their future happiness by their present conduct, is to treat them like rational creatures, and if he THE SOUL RELUCTANTLY MADE FAST TO EARTH. 131 at last raise them to a glory bright as their capacities can endure it is all they can ask, or expect, or receive. Some have supposed that the promise, " All things shall work together for good to them that love God," implies that their very backslidings will advance them in holiness. Perhaps this is a mistake. It would be hardly safe to entrust such an imperfect creature with such a promise. It is safe to assure him that all the events of divine providence, shall conspire to render him holy and happy ; but let him know that his own sins will have the same effect, and he is bribed to transgress. He is tempted to indulge in sin because he wishes to be holy : but this would be an absurd experiment. No doubt some have advanced faster towards heaven after a state of relapse. God in dealing with his people may direct that their " backslidings shall reprove them." But whether as a gene- ral principle it is true, that to forsake God is the readiest way to make us more like him, demands a doubt. The grace of God may abound toward his recovered children ; he may forgive them and love them after they have grievously offended him ; and may ad- vance the work of grace in their hearts, though they deserve to perish ; but why ascribe to their sins, what is due to the grace of their Redeemer 1 Peter was a valuable apostle, but perhaps none the more valuable for having denied his Lord. When he was converted he strengthened his brethren, but would perhaps have strengthend them more had he needed converting but once. If the backslider could hope in the midst of his wanderings, that his sins would prove a blessing, that hope would be illy calculated to bring him back ; and if there was such a. promise, he might grasp at such a hope. There is something dreadful in the thought that the believer should embrace an idol, and feel himself comforted in his crime by the prospect of thus increasing his sanctification, and brightening his crown of glory. If the experiment would be dan- gerous such an application of the promise is false ; and the back- slidings of the believer himself is not among the all things that vhall eventuate in his everlasting good. II. The prayer — "quicken thou me." In a sense, the whole text is a prayer When David confesses " My soul cleaveth to the dust," he must be viewed as laying open his case to God. He thus dates his prayer, in the very dust of death, as you have some- times seen a petition dated in the recesses of a dungeon. I think see in all this deep humility and open ingenuousness He felt 132 THE SOUL RELUCTANTLY MADE FAST TO EAKTI1. and confessed that his habitation was in the dust, and in that posi- tion not attempting concealment, commences his petitions. As if he had said, " Here, Lord, I am embracing the dust." Never was a heavenly mind in a more miserable condition. All ambition to rise is gone. My situation is precisely the object of my choice. " I cleave to the dust." Believer, if you fear that your condition is but too well described in this humiliating confession, and you would hope to be restored again to the favor of God, erect your prayer on a very ingenuous confession of your sins. If you venture upon any petition to your injured Sovereign, date that petition from the place of your guilty retreat. Without any reserve, mention in the ears of your Re- deemer, the place of your abode, and the meanness and guiltiness of your present employment. Suppose the prodigal had dated a line to his father at that moment when he came to himself, how do you imagine it would have read 1 I apprehend this would have been its purport 1 " From a far country, poor and friendless, without home or shelter ; destitute of a father or counsellor ; in the employ of a menial servant, feeding swine ; naked and perish- ing with hunger." How a line thus dated would have melted the heart of his father. And, brethren, if any of you have wandered, and are willing to return to God, you must practice the same in- genuousness. You can date your prayer after this manner, " From a world lying in ignorance and wickedness, where 1 have engaged to shine as a light, while my example increases the aggregate of darkness ; an inconsistent professor ; a senseless, careless, stupid worldling ; buried up in cares that have no concern with thy king- dom ; too guilty to hope, too dull to pray, and too depraved to repent." Such a confession, deeply felt and cheerfully made, may be the prelude to any prayer you may utter. "And before you call God will answer, and while you are yet speaking he will hear." We see in the prayer of the text a deep sense of dependence. ( Quicken thou me. David felt that none but God could revive him. His case was hopeless, unless there came help from Heaven. He was too far gone to be resuscitated by any other power than that which raises the dead to life. God must be his helper, or he never rises again from the horrible pit. Probably he had made some in- effectual efforts to restore himself, and had by every such effort sunk the deeper from the reach of human aid. The exertions of a sleeping man to wake himself, are of all efforts the most worthless. Convinced at length that he must die in his dreams or be waked by another, he raises his eyes to heaven, "quicken thou me." THE SOUL RELUCTANTLY MADE FAST TO EARTH. 133 Christian brethren, if any one of you find your case a similar one, your eye must be fixed on the same Divine helper. And yet you must strongly feel, that the more need there is that God should quicken you, the more guilty you are, and the more unde- serving of his merciful interpositions. This remark is predicated upon the simple fact, that we are agents, that we go into voluntary exile, and remain there because it is our choice. But all this in- creases the necessity of divine aid. If we are so base that we can choose to depart from the Lord, he must subdue that dreadful choice or our case is hopeless. Let us then feel our need of Di vine aid, and hang all our hopes upon the timely interposition of his quickening power. It sometimes happens that the backslider entirely neglects to pray, in which case it is easy to perceive that he cuts himself off from the last resource of help. While the wanderer can summon courage to pray, and can weep over his wanderings, there is hope in his case. However weik one may be in himself, prayer takes hold of everlasting strength. It enlists angels, it enlists God him- self on the side of the believer. It wakes in his behalf the watch- ful eye of Heaven. But I proceed to notice III. The plea used by the Psalmist in his guilty and gloomy circumstances. " Quicken thou me according to thy word" i. e., according to thy gracious promises. In making this plea, the Psalmist discovered both his humility and his faith. It was evi- dence of his humility as it was his only plea. He asks no favor be- cause he was the king of Israel. He pleads not that he was the man after God's own heart. Nor even does he mention his cove- nant relation to God, though this would have been a proper plea. God of his mere mercy had made promises to his people ; these he believed, and on these he hung his hopes, and grounded his prayer, "Quicken thou me according to thy word." Brethren, there is no plea in our distresses so prevalent with God, as that in which we plead his promises. He loves to do, and he intends to do as he has said. He issued the promises with a perfect knowledge of our sins, and our unworthiness. He has never repented of one promise that he ever made, nor wishes to be excused from their accomplishment. " He is the same yes- terday, to-day and for ever," and all the promises are in Christ, yea, and in him, amen. God loves to have his people acquainted with the gracious things he has said. When we have been wandering in the fields 13-i THE SOUL RELUCTANTLY MADE FAST TO EARTH. of promise, our prayers smell of their perfume. We must hav& often read the promise, and must have treasured it up in the mind before we can apply it to our case, and make it our plea at the throne. Hence, when we go to God, filling our mouths with his promises, he knows that we are acquainted with his word. And we may in such circumstances come boldly to the throne, assured that we shall " obtain mercy and find grace to help in every time of need." It is very remarkable that to almost every individual case there is at least one promise, if not more. Brethren, if any of you feel guilty, you may plead, " Thou art a God ready to pardon, gracious, and merciful, slow to anger, and of great kindness." Or you may pour out your soul in this lan- guage, " Who is a God like unto thee, that pardoneth iniquity, and passeth by the transgression of the remnant of his heritage." If God hide his face from you, you may make this plea, " In a little wrath I hid my face from thee for a moment, but with everlasting kindness will I have mercy on thee, saith the Lord thy Redeemer." If your trials multiply, if your estate consume, and your friends die, if one trial comes in upon another as wave follows wave in a stormy sea, you may plead this promise, "When thou passest through the waters I will be with thee, and through the floods, they shall not overflow thee, when thou walkest through the fire thou shalt not be burned, neither shall the flames kindle upon thee." I will be with thee in six troubles, and in seven I will not forsake thee." If no light from heaven seems to shine upon your path, you may plead this promise, "Whosoever believeth in me shall not abide in darkness." If you fear that God has utterly forsaken you, you are not without a promise, " For a small mo- ment have I forsaken thee, but with great mercies will I gather thee." If you apprehend that you have wearied his patience, and that having revived you so often, he will never revive you ao-ain, you may remind him of this precious text, "My mercy will I keep forevermore," and this, "Mercy and truth shall go be- fore thy face." If you even fear that God may break his promise, there is a plea for you, "The mountains shall depart and the hills be removed, but my kindness shall not depart from thee, neither shall the covenant of my peace be removed, saith the Lord that hath mercy on thee." If it should seem to you that God even de- li -lit s iii afflicting you, as if he meant to break down your spirits by the combined efforts of various calamities, you may plead this lise, " Though the Lord cause grief, yet will he have compas- sion, according to the multitude of his mercies." But, brethren, THE SOUL RELUCTANTLY MADE FAST TO EARTH. 135 I have entered a field which I did not hope fully to explore Al- most every page of the book of God, and in some instances, every line contains a promise. Could I recollect them half, I could oc- cupy your time till that sun had set, and risen and set a score of times. I could tell you of the promises made to them that fear God, to them that hope in him, to them that love him, to them that obey him, to them that trust him, and to them that honor him. But if the backsliding Christian can only be waked from the slumbers of his relapse he can read the long catalogue of promises, and make them all his own, and found upon each some plea at the throne. Oh ! how sweet to come thus. Remembering the kind things that God has said, and resting the soul firmly on the truth of his word, the backslider should hasten to the throne. To stay away is to prolong his miseries ; to stay away, is death. 1. The subject gives us a humiliating picture of the human heart. That men should not wish for communion and fellowship with God, who never yet have tasted and seen that the Lord is gracious, is not surprising; but that the Christian should forsake the Lord, and go after his idols, what a proof of remaining cor- ruption ! We have heard of the savage, who, after being civilized, wished to return again to the wilderness, and the chase. We have heard of the prodigal, who, after being restored to his father and his home, returned again to his paths of profligacy. But what have we ever heard of that resembled the consummate folly of him who, having tasted the sweets of Christian enjoyments, could bar- ter away his hopes and his pleasures for the enjoyments of time and sense ; could quit the bosom of his Redeemer, where he was so happy, and try to live again on the husks that the swine eat. Do you think there is one in heaven that could be persuaded to lay aside his harp and come down to our world again if you would give him the whole of it 1 And Christians have tasted of heaven, and may drink deeper of its joys if they please, and how can they ever barter them away. 2. The subject gives us enlarged views of the mercy of God, that he will make beings so depraved the objects of his affectionate regard. How strange ! Look at some lapsed believer, scarcely differing from the world in a thing that can be named ; sleeping, it may be, most profoundly, while the outcry of anxious souls is heard all around him ; less thoughtful than men who have never tasted nor seen that the Lord was gracious, buried up in worldly 136 THE SOUL BELUCTANTLY MADE FAST TO EARTH. care, and engrossed, soul and body, in the affairs of the life that now is ! And, tell me, is there any measure to that mercy, which can pardon all this, and raise such a soul to heaven. How un- worthy of heaven, and how unfit for heaven, and how ungratefu* to the God of heaven j and still the mercy of God can lead him to cast all his iniquities behind his back, and still save the poor mi- serable backslider. I know that the backslider should entertain no such hope, but should believe himself in the gall of bitterness, and under the bonds of iniquity. But if one such case has been since there was a church, and we should, at last, see that soul in heaven, how it will exalt the campassion of a pardoning God ! How his long-suffering patience will shine, as in glowing capitals, among the perfections that will be seen to cluster in his nature. Finally, my Christian brethren, I have taken up this subject with the apprehension that some of my readers may be slumbering at this very moment, There is some cause, and where is that cause, and what, that the work of God seems at a stand among that class that seemed the first to wake.* There are many of your acquaint- ances, probably, in middle life, who know that they are sinners, and feel that sin has ruined them, and would give a moiety of their estate were they safe from the fear of hell ; and there they stand, ready to go forward if they must, or backward if they may. Now, is there not some stumbling block not removed out of the way ? The preacher would ask his own heart, Is it there % And he would ask every brother, Is it there ? Oh, it would be dreadful if any of us should stand in the way of the Lord, and keep souls out of heaven. It would be dreadful not to do that which would bring them to heaven. To find a soul, at last, on the left hand, and know that we had blocked up his way to life. We shall then feel that we had better have died when the Lord began to work ; our death might have awakened him, and while he has stumbled and fallen, at our example, he might have wept and repented over our grave. How can a professor calculate that any thing shall ever wake him, if he sleep now] We tell the impenitent, and we have much Scripture and many facts to support the remark, that if he wakes not now, he must probably sleep the sleep of death eternal. And if so, with how much assurance may we say to the slumbering professor, that, probably, he is not asleep but dead, and must be aroused by the same new-creating voice, that must bring to life the dead ia trespasses and sins, or he never bestirs him in the ways of God. If he can now see all classes of sinners quitting the * Alluding to a work of God then ia progress. THE SOUL RELUCTANTLY MADE FAST TO EARTH. 137 ways of death, and sitting down clothed and in their right mind at the feet of Jesus, what event more electrifying can he hope to wit- ness, till he see the dead rise and the Son of Man coming in the clouds of heaven. He would do well to resign his hope, and place himself among the anxious and the inquiring, and begin a Chris- tian life anew. The exhortation of the apostle, "Repent, and do thy first works," is applicable in all its force to the professor of godliness who finds himself inactive and uninterested in a work such as God is doing in this place. It is wicked for him to cal- culate that he has been born of God, to presume that God will make him happy, or to hope that he has any inheritai ce in the kingdom of God and of Christ. Amen. 18 SERMON IX. A LIKENESS TAKEN IN THE FIELD- 1 CORINTHIANS X. 31. Whether, therefore, ye eat or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God. There is one feature in the mind of God that none have ever been infidel enough to doubt, — his unlimited love of happiness. He delights to pour out blessedness into every heart that he finds prepared to receive it. When, at length, his kindness came in contact with a lost and ruined world, it contrived and developed a plan of redemption. " God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself." He " was rich yet for our sakes he became poor, that we through his poverty might be rich ;" and the followers of the Lord Jesus Christ must be like him. " If any man have not the spirit of Christ he is none of his." Hence, the first inquiry of every new-born soul will be with him of Tarsus, " Lord, what wilt thou have me to do 1" The proper answer to this question will show, how the Christian is to act out the spirit of his Master in efforts to promote the conversion and the salvation of the world I. Let me begin by saying that the Christian should devote to this work his personal services. It is the work we see God doing, and both duty and interest require that we be workers together with God. And the only measure there can possibly be applied to the service is the power we have to serve. " Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might." By this rule God has limited his requisitions. " If there be first a willing mind it is ac- cepted according to that which a man hath, and not according to that which he hath not." The hand is used in Scripture to mean our whole natural ability. It is even used in the same sense in reference to God. "The hand of the Lord is not shortened that it cannot save ;" whatever faculty, then, of our nature there is, God has claimed it for himself. If we can think and reason we are to employ our understanding in save men. We can know their character and their danger, and expose their condition, and, by a thousand motives, urge theil A LIKENESS TAKEN IN THE FIELD. 139 speedy escape from the wrath to come, their emancipation from the power of sin and Satan, into the glorious liberty of the sons of God. In this very work the infinite mind of G^d is occupied, nor can we say that he has any employment to which he plies his thoughts with more untiring industry than in the work of redemp- tion. Hoav does he propose to sinners that they let him reason with them, and what arguments that none but God could invent does he urge upon their consideration ! " Though your sins be as scarlet, they shallbe as wool, though they be red like crimson, they shall be as snow." How mistaken, then, are the little beings in the shape of men, who suppose they have minds too dignified to be employed in the redemption of souls ! They would not, perhaps, grudge to be occupied on the bench or at tne bar, but it would degrade them, it seems, to plead the cause of an insulted God with a rebellious world. They would spend life in studying out the laws of nature, or in defining the properties of a plant, a mineral, or an insect, but look down contemptuously upon the business of making men acquainted with God, and winning them back to loyalty and duty ! The work of counting money and ap- praising merchandise is not beneath them, but it would be quite a stoop to be employed in studying the word of God, and gathering arguments with which to thwart the gainsayings of an infidel and perverse generation ! But if the human mind, as infidels have plead, is a scintillation from the infinite mind, how can it have a nobler employment than in winning souls to Him 1 It is the legitimate work of every mind to hail the perishing within its reach, and shed upon them an enlightening and sancti- fying influence ! Not the authorized ministers of the sanctuary alone should feel the pressure of this enterprise, but every intel- lect that took pattern from its Maker, and wears a trace of his likeness. The power of reasoning was given to us to associate us with God in doing the same work, as far as may be, that he does, and the human mind should feel itself meanly occupied, if even from necessity, held away from its appropriate work, and compelled for a time to be devoted to the drudgeries of this life. If one has not the knowledge, or the talent, or the leisure, or au- thority to preach the everlasting gospel, he may not be idle. There is some field open at his door to do good. He can learn, and wield with the hundreds that cross his track, the arguments that sustain the religion of the gospel, can fling out his warnings upon the ear of the gay, and the worldly, and the dissipated, and the drunken, and the profane. He can watch, and wake the slum- 14*0 A LIKENESS TAKEN IN1 THE FIELD. bering believer, and cheer and sustain the ministry, and standi the heart of the disconsolate, and plan the measures of benevo- lence, and put in successful motion a thousand other minds, mighti- er perhaps than his own, that shall push on the enterprise of re- demption, after his own has escaped to heaven, and his bones have been mouldered a thousand years. He may be a small man in his own esteem, and insignificant, too, in the sight of God, and still may give healthful impulse, and a right direction, to a moving world. " Worm Jacob may take in his hand a new, sharp, threshing in- strument, having teeth, by which he shall thresh the mountains and beat them small, and make the hills as chaff, and the wind shall carry them away, and the whirlwind shall scatter them." Let the Christian be only willing to be in his place, and there will be presented soon some nook for him to occupy, where he can strengthen and edify the spiritual temple. And let it not be forgotten that there is no amount of other duty, in which we operate by proxy, that can possibly exonerate us from persuing all that may be of this personal service for the Lord Jesus. No matter what the aggregate of duty done through other agencies, we must do this service too. If we could educate a thousand ministers,, and buy the services of ten thousand others, and freight the Word of Life to a score of nations, and thus, by proxy, evangelize half a world, if there was still a soul within our reach over whom we could, by the use of our own minds, exert a sanctifying control, we must answer to God for the proper use of that opportunity. Still it would remain incumbent, " whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might." Still must we be instant in season and out of season, in warning, and rebuking, and admonishing the wayward and the perishing. The maxim would then apply, " These ought ye to have done, but not to have left the other undone." There is no proviso in the law of God freeing me from being a preacher of the gospel, in the sense now advocat- ed, if I could send out among the lost an army of evangelists numerous enough to begirt the world. Nor can any Moses plead that he is slow of speech, and throw the whole responsibility on Aaron. There is no mind so mean but there is some mind it can reach and instruct, some conscience or heart it can approach and rectify, and, by the Spirit's co-operation, mould into holy and heavenly form. Let men only become will- ing to be the Lord's servants, and he will find them a field of labor. And how can the good man be willing that there should be any heart about him unsanctified, or mind unenlightened ! Can he rest A LIKENESS TAKEN IN THE FIELD. 141 in indolence when, if he would act, he could enlarge his Lord's empire 1 Can he see his Master dishonored, and his law trampled upon, when his own exertions would produce obedience 1 And how then can he have hope that he loves his Master. Piety is a living principle, a power that can generate action and give im- pulse. The healthful state of the soul depends, I know, on the agency of the Holy Ghost ; yet, as God will give his Spirit to them who ask him, his people can always put forth an energy that shall act on others. Hence, if the man of God might, with a good con- science withhold his personal services, he would not, but will place himself between the living and the dead, and stay the plague that is paralyzing the energies of a world. When the Church shall feel on this point with sufficient strength every Christian will be virtually a preacher, and God will ordain strength out of the mouths of babes and sucklings. Every profes- sion of godliness will recruit the soldiership of Christ, the stam- mering tongue will speak plainly, and many will run to and fro, and knowledge will be increased. Men who have purposed to reject Jesus Christ will feel unhappy till they give up the controversy ; and, at length, no one shall have need to say to his brother, Know the Lord, for all shall know him, from the least even unto the greatest. It may be that God calls us to serve him with the pen. The man who has talents at this service may not withhold. The pen is that engine by which one mind may bear with energy upon other minds, and, associated with the press, is that lever that can pry up a world. And this weapon, which shook the world in the six- teenth century, will shake it yet more mightily as the millennial coming shall be seen projecting up the sky. The world understand the worth and the might of the pen, and the Church might have learned, if she had not been slow to learn. The lowest scribbler can send his lying puffs abroad in behalf of the theatre, and the politician, who cannot spell his mother tongue, will write and print his electioneering paragraph, then why should not the Christian who can wield an able pen be occupied in this service while the world is perishing And if one cannot use this instrument of good himself, he can procure it used. And we may, borne of us, yet live to see half a million of writers employing ten thousand presses in defending the truth, and sustaining the honor of the Lord Jesus. And if our minds seem not to us our noblest part, then may we and something to do for God with our hands. We can toil instead 142 A LIKENESS TAKEN IN THE FIELD. of those who have hotter minds, and le1 them serve, in our behalf, the interest we love. Here something has been done, but not the thousandth part of what should be. Let the hours that are thrown away by the great mass of the Christian community be employed in laboring for God, and the avails would soon renovate the world. And the labors done with such design would produce habits tha^ would tell on the health, and plenty, and cheerfulness, and sancti- fication of the Church. By such a practice, when universal, hxyn would crime disappear, and credit rise, and health increase, and life be prolonged, and the laboring Community throughout Christ- endom stand, at length, on an elevation that would cover the whole territory with a halo of glory. Thus the personal services of every man, woman, and child in the Church of God may be put in requisition to redeem back an alienated world to its rightful Lord and Master. God of mercy grant that the question may soon cease to be asked, either in or about the vineyard, " Why stand ye hero all the day idle 1 " II. I assert, that the Christian must use his influence in honoring his Master. I refer now not solely to that direct effort that one man makes to control another, but to that ascendency of moral principle which one acquires, by which he leads other minds on in his own track. It consists in a good name, and implies a good example, and may have relation to family and blood, and place and opportunity. Every man has more or less influence, can exert control over some minds, and sway all who will suffer themselves to drop into his wake. Wicked men have influence, and will seldom fail to use it to further the interests they love, and destroy the souls they are obli- gated to save. HOW baneful has been its use in all the pages of human history. The influence of Jeroboam ruined ten of the tribes of Israel ; and the house of Aliab, his descendant, bred mischief in his kingdom that never could he cured till the kingdom was extirpated; and the influence of Jezebel laid a train of mischief and guilt that even her own blood could not wash away- And all who are acquainted with history know how blighting has been the influence of Voltaire, spreading over a whole continent, and reach- ing down now through a century ; destined, we fear, to mark its track with the blood of souls through the spare of a thousand years. And the miserable Paine, who had all his baseness of prin ciple, though wanting his greatness of mind, did mischief in his little day, and put moral machinery in motion that has been widen A LIKENESS TAKEN IN THE FIELD. 143 ing the sphere of devastation, till thousands of souls will acknow- ledge him the father of their damnation. Now the people of God can put forth the same kind of influence in a better cause. They can mould the manners of men, and shape their principles for heaven, and turn the eye of the multitude to truth, and duty, and God, hy the use of their influence, the agent by which others have spread through creation darkness and misery. Let them throw their whole hearts into this better interest, and be as prompt and indefatigable for God as were these sons of Belial for their master ; and we see not why men may not reach the same gigantic influence in the ways of God, and make their life as con- spicuous in the Church as were these foes of God in the ranks of death. There can surely be acquired more greatness of soul, and more fixedness of principle, and more steadfastness of purpose, in the cause of God than in the service of the adversary. And there can be used as much industry, and courage, and perseverance, in mak- ing the world holy, as in degrading it. We can place against the polluted names we have rehearsed a Baxter, a Brainard, a Martyn, a Hale, a Luther, a Wesley, and a Whitefield, and a thousand other names ; and what these holy men were others can be, and we might have a whole generation on the stage at once. As the starry night has its galaxy, so the moral world will have, when the Lord's people shall try to shine in all the glory of their Master. They can easily make their influence be felt as it never has been, and as soon as lliey shall try, their exertions will tell on the character of the Church and the world. On the Church an influence may be used with advantage, as there cannot be supposed any prejudice to counteract it. We can lead on the people of God to hiofher spiritual attainments, to a more devoted benevolence, to greater industry, to more prayer, and bible reading, to a closer covenant keeping, and to equipment and discipline in the whole round of heavenly soldiership. The men of the world exert constantly a deadening and adulterating influence upon the Church, which should be industriously counter- acted by the servants of Jesus Christ. What does the covenant mean, if Christians are not to be putting forth an influence toward each other that shall tend to their mutual sanctific.ation 1 And how can the Church, as a community, throw out a sanctifying influence upon the wide world till this is done ? It is one of the first duties of the ministry, you know, to edify the body of Christ, and why should not each believer exert upon 144 A LIKEXESS TAKEN IN THE FIELD. her, as far as possible, the same control? When we shall make the people of God feel that we love them, and our example shall testify that we are followers of Christ as dear children, we shall take a hold of their hearts, and exert over them an influence that shall he moulding them into holy and useful habits. We can help form their creed, and rouse their courage, and correct their wanderings, and inspirit them to increased energy, and skill, and impetus, till the Church shall shine forth like the morning. And while we are thus blessing the Church we shall be able to influ- ence the world also. We sometimes mistake the amount of our influence with worldly men, and think it small, when more exer- tion would show it to be mighty. Let us bear with a steady and uniform pressure against their vices, and urge upon them the thoughts of death and the judgment, and the perdition that en- sues, and we shall find afterward that we have controlled them. We may rouse their impatience, however, at the moment when they are coming under the power of our influence. I know the world would lessen, and have always hated the Church's influence, while yet they feel it and writhe under it, and have no shield to ward off its point and power. But when they have uttered all their calumnies, and flounced and bled for a time, still if the Church bear down against their deeds of darkness they sin with heaviness. Virtually they ask leave of the Church, and wait her consent at every step they take in sin. I know they would not own this subjection to a foreign influence, but this alters nothing. Every man must see that no vice can be current against the Church's loud, and steady, and prayerful testimony. They cannot even desert her sanctuary till professors do, nor pollute her ordinances, nor trample on her Sabbath, nor profane her Redeemer. When the Church rose upon the theatre, and joined with decency to scowl it out of use, it became from that moment a sinking concern, and the stock can never rise again in the market till she will send up to its obscenities, her proud, and gay and praycrless rep- resentation. Oh, can she ever do this! Tell it not in Gath ! Publish it not in the streets of Askelon ! And the game of whist, and the dance, and every other licentious and ensnaring pastime, will go down when professors disuse them. The Sabbath is com- ing into more general repute through the Church's use of her in- fluence and example in sustaining it. The cause of temperance moved on briskly till it vras discovered thai the Church held in her fellowship those who would drink of devils, but has stayed in its march till she can have time to entomb her inebriates. Fast A UKENKSS TAKEN IN THE FIELD. 145 as any vice shall cease to have its abettors in the house of God it must oo down. And when the Church shall use her whole influ- ence she will be able to control the manners of the world, and make and rectify the public conscience. And when all this is done the people of God can do more, can render men awakened, and convicted, and regenerate. Not that they can do all this, or any part of it, without the agency of the Holy Ghost, but God has appointed the means that he will bless, the presentation of his truth by the human voice, in that kindliness of form which is applicable to the human affections. In this worlc his people can be employed. They know the truth and can watch for the kind moment of presenting it, and pray the God of heaven to bless it and give it power. Thus have they the means of subjecting to the Lord Jesus Christ all the men about them, and are blameworthy if these souls quit the world unsanctified. We shall know at the last, and it would be well if we would know it now, how high a bearing our present deportment has upon the character and destiny of the ungodly. We shall see then, that the quiet of conscience, and the self-complacency, and the calmness, and content, that make the face of the unregenenate world so tran- quil, is criminally associated with the Church's slumbers. Soon as she awakes the world is anxious, and when the people of God shall sleep no more, but make their whole influence be felt, then may we safely predict that the world's slumbers are ended. The revivals which marked eighteen hundred and thirty-one, as the year of the right hand of the Lord, and will probably distin- guish it till the judgment as of all the years that preceded it, the Church's holiest, happiest year, are but the glorious result of the Church awake to God's interest, and God graciously attentive to hers. The Church has tried a little her influence, not to the ex- tent she will hereafter, and she has seen the heavenly building rise at every push she gave, and every shout she uttered. Now let the Church, for once, throw off wholly her long-protracted paraly- sis and she may urge on her conquests till earth's entire territory shall be redeemed to the Lord Jesus. Bui there will be need that every child of God enlist under the banner of the Lord Jesus. As they must all be sanctified they will all need the discipline of laboring for God ; and can, then, all aid in the song that, sin^s the conquest ended, and the victory wow \ And those whom God loves so little that he will permit them in this age of action to plod on in the rearmost rank of the 19 146 A LIKENESS TAKEN IN THE FIELD. sacramental host, may well doubt whether they shall have any part in the shout of victory. Sectarianism will die out as the millennial year comes in There will be union in this enterprise, " Ephraim shall not envr Judah, and Judah shall not vex Ephraim." The watchmen shall see eye to eye ; the grand benevolent institutions of the opening and o-lorious age shall be ably sustained, and men will be furnished, and money, and prayer, and faith, by means of which the Lord Jesus will honor his people and reinstate himself in his own re pur- chased empire. The bulwarks erected against the rising kingdom will be sapped, and the foe be disheartened, and the barley-cake will demolish the tents of Midian. The Church will have learned how to make her influence felt in the moral pulsation of the world, and the blessed results will continue down to the period of its dis- solution. How happy are the men that are to come after us, and how blessed the generation that shall watch the rising sun and bask in the noon rays of the moral world. In the mean time the people of God must consecrate to the con- version of the world their money. Hardly need this have been said. When men shall have devoted to the Lord Jesus Christ their personal services and their influence, they will not withhold their wTealth. This gives them the means of reaching the hearts and consciences to which they cannot extend a personal control. We can here operate by proxy, and put in motion a moral machinery, that may multiply our usefulness a thousand fold. There is wealth enough in the Church, if the world should withhold its first and last penny, to buy back to its Master the government of the king- dom. Nor can men or angels conceive of any other reason, why it is there, but that the Lord hath need of it. It rusts and cankers the piety that covets it, and the piety that keeps it. It is in every such case a millstone about the believer's neck, and will hold him from rising heavenward more than stripes, and chains, and dun- geons. All experience agrees, that absolute beggary befits better a heavenly mind than riches. The man of wealth then has but one question to ask : how shall I employ my mammon 1 And here the field is wide. Let him furnish the world a ministry There must go with the Bible the living preacher. This is God's appointed means. By the foolishness of preaching he will save them that believe. The harvest may be so wide, that one cannot personally explore its limits, and yet by his money he may lill the field with reapers. Here, as in some of the bloody conflicts, when life went out in a torrent, a single man can enlist and equip an A LIKENESS TAKEN IN THE FIELD. 147 army, and carry on a war long and desperate, till he shall shake the pillars of the opposing empire. This is a crisis when one shall chase a thousand, and two put ten thousand to flight. The Church has the means, and the world must not need a ministry and the gospel presents the motives that shall draw these means forth. If they remain in the Church, they but nurse idolatry, and thus corrupt her integrity, and mar her beauty. But riches asso- ciated with benevolence, are like apples of gold in pictures of silver. And they are occupied, and will be yet more extensively in replenishing the ministry. The millennial year, if her star is risen and her day has dawned, cannot roll up her sun to his zenith, till our rich men have discovered this use for their money. And when their wealth has made a ministry, it must sustain it. This is a sordid world. Men will feed their destroyers rather than their benefactors. Any profession can live better than the minis- try of the reconciliation. We must furnish and feed a hundred thousand missionaries. And it is a blessing, and not a curse, that the church has this service to do, has this outlet for her wealth. It had begun to stagnate and breed pestilence, like the river of Jordan, till a dead sea was furnished to drink up her waters. It is a blessing to the older Churches that they have all this to do, it is their honor and their salvation, and the wealthy Christians have only to learn how, and they will do it, or Christians have not the temper of Jesus Christ. And we have not yet told the half they have to do. They must fill the world with Bibles, reading in every language under heaven the lessons of mercy to the tribes that sit in darkness, and the same wealth must sustain the tract cause, and rain down the leaves of the tree of life upon the sickly and perishing nations. They must furnish to the ignorant and the poor Sabbath-schools, and Bible-classes, and all the other means of making mind that the re- novation of a world require. There is faith and not infidelity in asserting that the millennium cannot come till the Church learns better how to use her money, and it will not tarry when this lesson is well learned. Ride on, blessed Lord Jesus, and assess thy Church to the full amount of all the promises, and buy thee a kingdom with it. and reign thou over us and our house for eve* And then, beyond all this, the people of God must give him their children, and a title to their whole house. What right have we in our offspring, vying with the right that the Savior has 1 He did not give us children, that we might worship and serve them instead of him. He did not commit their souls to us, that we 148 A LIKENESS TAKEN IN THE FIELD. might with them officer the hosts of his enemies and furnish the Church her bitterest foes from the house of her friends. He did not send us children that we might absorh ourselves and all that we have in their rearing, and thus place their interest at war with the interests of his kingdom. He did not make them children of prayer that they should mingle with the world, and profane the privileges of his family to the furthering of their own undoing. He had designs of mercy, and we should know it, and set our hearts to gather them into his kindom early, and have them ser- vants of his Son soon as they become intelligent. And then we can make them know that we have in our hearts and on our knees devoted them to Jesus Christ, that we are rearing them for bis honor, that we have nothing that we can do with them, and they nothing that they can do in the kingdom of God, if they will not devote their hearts to him, and their all to him. We must teach them to toil for him, and calculate for him, and live and die for him. Till this is done, as we have not yet been accustomed to see it in Christian families, the Lord Jesus will delay his coming. To see the father of a family praying for the millenium, and the mother laboring to evangelize the world, each eagerly grasping at intelli- gence of new victories achieved by the Captain of their salvation, here there is promise, but if in their house there is no prospect of a holy succession that can push on the enterprises of benevolence when the parents are glorified, how dark it looks. And these children, too, are fed and clad with the Church's money, and des- tined, perhaps, to inherit a large estate and alienate it for ever from God. To die the parent of such a family, is more to be deplored than to die childless. If we would faithfully devote our all to the Lord, it would not so happen with us; he would sanctify our seed and build us up a sure house for ever. And not the children merely, but the whole house should be the Lord's. There should be the fear of God in every department of domestic life. That religion that is confined to the parlor, and exhausts its last impulse while yet it has exerted no salutary con trol over the domestics of the family, which seems regardless of the soul that toils on the farm, or drudges in the services of the house, or waits at the door, a religion that leaves three-fourths o( a family heathen, will never evangelize the world. If we do not pity the souls at our door, our philanthropy was never born in heaven, and will do nothing to save the heathen who are sitting in the region ami shadow of death. Oh, there is something fatally meonrrruous in such domestic arrangements, and it must be cured A LIKENESS TAKEN IN THE FIELD. 149 in the Church, or our example will make heathen at home faster than our charities and prayers will save them ahroad. I hie every householder in Christendom has a nohle field for labor. Let him carry the Bible into the apartment of his domes- tics, if any he has in his employ, and pray there, and read them the tidings of Zion's increase till every spirit that serves him, shall wish to serve his Lord. Then let him look up the heathen around him till there is not one within the circle of his influence, and then let him become a missionary, and spread the gospel through the wide world. SERMON X. THE PERFECTED GOOD MAN 2 TIM. III. 17. Ttiat the man of God may be perfect, thoroughly furnished unto all good work* The context reads, "All Scripture is given by inspiration of r any other of the Christian graces. One Christian grace may outgrow another, as in the hu- nan body we sometimes see a member that has taken uncommon magnitude, while yet every other member may have place, though «ot exact proportion. For instance, we have seen much zeal vhere there was but little knowledge, too little to guide the man THE PERFECTED GOOD MAN. 151 the most safely through this wilderness. And we have seen, on the other hand, abundant doctrinal knowledge, where there seem- ed not sufficient zeal to kindle up devotion. And we have seen professed believers who wanted wholly some grace of the Spirit, making it manifest that God had not stamped his image on their -heart. That the Christian must be perfect, insomuch, that he must more or less exhibit every grace of the gospel, I argue, I. From the fact that every grace is the result of the operation of the same Divine Spirit, whose work will ever be perfect. We are assured that " the works of the Spirit are love, joy, peace, long- suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance." All this catalogue of graces, then, will be found where the Spirit of God is. He moulds every feature of the Christian man, and will not leave his work unfinished. He generates the temper that displays itself in every grace. The renovated heart in view of God, loves, adores, and rejoices ; in view of sin, is sorrowful and penitent; in view of Christ, believes ; under injuries, is meek ; under afflictions, patient ; at the sight of miseries, compassionate ; and in view of its own polluted self, is humbled. Thus, the Holy Ghost generates, at the first, in the heart of the believer, every grace that will be there when he is ripened for glory. One and another of these graces may grow as circumstances may demand their increase, and finally, attain different degrees of strength and vigor. They are sister affections, which the same Spirit will not fail to generate in every heart he renews. Hence their harmony and their oneness is sure. There may be in men, by nature, the semblance of some of these graces, which the Holy Spirit has not produced, and we shall see in that case that some are wanting. It will be a morbid and mon- strous religion. There will be zeal, perhaps, without humility; devotion, without benevolence ; there will be apparently a part only of the new man, as if there should be born the limbs only of a human body, or the head or the trunk while every limb was wanting. Now we infer, from the fact that it is the Holy Ghost that creates men anew in Christ Jesus, that there will be in the kingdom of God no such monstrous production. It may not al- ways be easy to settle the question, what extent of morbid growth there may be found in the real believer, and where there are seen deficiencies enough to decide the point that the work is not of God There may be, where there is no grace, a tameness that may look like humility and meekness ; and where there is grace, there may 132 THE PKRFECTKD GOOD MAN. be a harshness that shall resemble the operations of unsubdued nature. There may be a natural liberality in men who have no pretensions to faith, that shall shame the remaining covetousness of the believer. And still it is true, that where the Spirit of God operates, lie turns the soul right in every respect. He leaves not one new-born soul supremely selfish, or proud, or unbelieving, or malevolent, or under the controlling influence of any one unholy affection. II. That the Christian will exhibit every gospel grace, and be, in this respect, perfect, we argue from the fact, that the moral ac- tions of the renewed man take their character from the he rt that has been the subject of a radical renovation. While the heart was un- sanctified every moral action was wholly sinful : " out of the same fountain proceed not sweet waters and bitter." And though, after regeneration, the heart remains partially depraved, still its sancti- fied character will operate in all the varied actions of life, and be as sure to produce one Christian grace as another, and be sure to produce them all when the occasion requires. Place the man, whose heart has been renovated, where he must see iniquity, and he will hate it ; where he must suffer abuse, and he will be meek ; where he must see want, and he will be charitable ; where he comes in contact with the interests of others, and he will be honest ; where he must bear testimony, and he will be true. You will see ready to operate, a holy nature, and the man will be, in every as- pect, a Christian. I do not say that, on every point, he may not sometimes disobey, but that he will more frequently, on every point, obey. A good heart will habitually generate holy affections in all the various attitudes in which the different moral objects may pre- sent themselves. The new man is formed after the image of God. Christ is said to be in his people the hope of glory. Hence, so far is the new nature operates, and it will operate habitually, it will produce actions and affections of the same moral character. You may then look at the good man from any point, and you will see him uniformly the man of God II. We argue that the Christian will exhibit every grace of the gospel, and will, in this respect, be the perfect man of God, from ike /xymony of truth which is the medium of his sanctification. ,c Sanctify them," said our Lord, in that prayer which he offered for his people, "sanctify them through thy truth." As there is jn truth an infinitely extended harmony, no one truth clashing with THE PERFECTED GOOD MAN. 153 any other, so the character it shall form will have the same con sistency and harmony. The change of character produced at re- geneiation through the medium of truth 5 that same truth sustains and renders fixed, when once established like itself, and every fea- ture of that character will harmonize with every other, and with all the others. If truth so bears upon the mind, through the influence of the Holy Ghost, as to render it humble, we are sure, from the nature of truth, that it can never so bear upon the mind as to render it proud. If truth is made to work repentance, neither the same truth nor any other truth will so operate as to produce malice and revenge. Truth will not produce opposite or clashing results. It will not lead a man to love God and hate his neighbor; to love his Bible and hate the Sabbath. It will not generate kindness to- wards one class of men, and unkindness towards another. It will not produce a spirit of praise and prayer, and yet a spirit of negli- gence, and sloth. As there is in truth throughout a perfect one- ness, so will there be in the character that truth, in the hands of the Holy Ghost, is made to produce. In falsehood there is no harmony, nor in the character it forms. We do not wonder to see every contradiction and absurdity in the character of an ungodly man. He may be prodigal in his expendi- tures, and yet covetous ; may be mean, and yet proud ; may be impudent, and yet impatient of contradiction ; may be a tyrant in spirit, and yet a boisterous advocate of liberty. All these, and any other contradiction and absurdity, may be in the man who has subjected himself to the forming and the control of the father of lies. But the believer is rooted and grounded in the truth, and truth is consistent and harmonious, and will make a character bar monious like itself. IV. We argue from the nature of the Christian graces, that they must all be where one is. Where one is wanting the man of God is not perfect. Love to God contains, in its very nature, hatred to what is opposed to God. Opposed to God is sin, hence love to him embraces hatred to sin, and repentance where sin has been committed. Humility implies a deep sense of unworthiness, and becomes meekness when abuse is offered. If we feel that we are unworthy, and humility feels this, then the unworthy may not promptly and passionately resist evil. If I have those low views of myself, that I feel as if I deserved to be trodden down, that man who treads me down shall not incur my deadly and implacable 154 THE PERFECTED GOOD MAIS. wrath. If I love to converse with God, and his people are like him, I shall love to converse with them ; hence love to God and Christian affection are twin exercises, and will both be where one is. If I am benevolent, and I see my fellow-men suffer when my money will relieve them, I shall be liberal ; hence benevolence and Christian liberality are associate affections. Now the same result will follow if we compare any two of the Christian graces; they are all harmonious in their very nature. They are all the spontaneous affections of the same renovated heart, as it contemplates different objects. When moral beauty is discovered, it is loved ; when moral deformity, it is hated ; when misery is seen, there is felt compassion and benevolence ; when afflictions are endured, there is submission ; when insults from man, there is meekness ; when earth, with all its sins and miseries, is contemplated, there is pain, and sorrow, and regret , when hea- ven, in all its holiness and happiness, is thought of, there is appro- bation and joy. Thus the Christian affections all harmonize. They are branches of the same graft, through which circulate the same juices and the same life stream; hence one cannot be without the whole : unless we can suppose, with regard to some grace, a total remove from the objects that can call it into action. V. We shall come to the same result if we observe how God, in his word, characterizes his people. He designates them by one Christian grace, and applies to them his largest promises under this limited appellation. Abraham is spoken of as one that feared God, and the largest promise is made to him : on another occasion he is said to have believed God, and it, his faith, was accounted to him for righteousness. Said the Psalmist, " 0 how great is thy goodness which thou hast laid up for them that fear thee." But if the fear of God, and faith in him, did not imply love to him, and all the other Christian graces, then they would have been all named in appropriating the promise. We read that "the anael of the Lord encampeth round about them that fear him, and delivereth them." — " There is no want to them that fear him." — "He wih fulfil the desire of them that fear him, he will hear their cry, and will save them." Thus, to those who possess one of the Christian graces are made his largest promises, and this could not be if the possession of this grace did not imply the possession of all the others. We find the same is said of them that love God. "The Lord preserveth those that love. him. He will show mercy to thousands THE PERFECTED GOOD MAN. 155 of them that love him, and keep his commandments. All things work together for good to them that love him." — " Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart or man the things that God hath prepared for them that love him." All this could not be, were it not true that those who love him fear him and trust him, and submit to him ; or the lack of one Christian grace cuts off from heaven, and from the presence and everlasting favor of God. The righteous, it is promised, shall he glad in the Lord, and all the upright in heart shall glory. "Light is sown for the righteous, and gladness for the upright in heart." Thus all that could be de- sired is promised to the righteous. So those who trust in the Lord may ftope for his largest bene- fits. " Let those that put their trust in thee rejoice, let them ever shout for joy, because thou defendest them." So to faith the whole is promised. "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved." To the humble there opens the same field of promise. " God forgetteth not the cry of the humble. By humility and the fear of the Lord, are riches, and honor, and life. Whosoever shall humble himself as a little child, the same shall be greatest in the kingdom of God. Whosoever humbleth himself shall be exalted." We might travel thus through the Christian graces, and show that God characterizes his people by any one of them, and promis- es all the comforts of this life, and the joys of heaven, to the person who possesses any one of them. But this could not be if the possession of one did not imply the possession of ail. By turning to the threatenings we shall see, on the other hand, that the want of any one Christian grace cuts off the soul from the favor of God. "Wo to him that striveth with his Maker:" here the want of a spirit of submission is woful. The want of a spirit of trust is ruinous : " Cursed is the man that trusteth in man, and maketh flesh his arm, and whose heart departeth trom the Lord." The want of humility is ruinous: "The proud he know- eth afar off." — "The Lord shall cut off the tongue that speaketh proud things." — "Every one that is proud is an abomination." — " The day of the Lord of hosts shall be upon every one that is proud and lofty, and upon every one that is lifted up, and he shall be brought low." Thus we might proceed through all the list of threatenings. Now compare these two views, and they will furnisn an argu- ment of great strength God's richest blessings are promised to 156 THE PERFECTED GOOD MAN. the possession of one Christian grace, and his curse denounced against those who lack any one. Now, if it cannot be true that the good man shall live, because he has one attribute of life, and die, because he lacks one, then he that has one has the whole. He cannot enter into life because he fears God, and be lost because he is proud. Hence every Christian has all the Christian graces. They are all connected, all proceed from the same renewed tem- per, are wrought by the same sanctifying Spirit, are nourished by the same code of truth, and lead, each one, all the others in lis train. VI. The experience of believers will prove to them that there is this indissoluble connection between the Christian graces. Thev have all known by happy, as well as by unhappy experience, that if one grace flourish all the other graces flourish with it, and if one withers all wither together. Let us first look at the brighter side of the picture. The Christian is placed where one of the graces has special opportunity to grow and flourish. He is seen to grow in the love of God. He in- creases in the knowledge of God, has admiring apprehension of his character, is absorbed in the wondrous views of his greatness and goodness, and is in the process of being imbued with his image from glory to glory. He now increases in the love of his children. His repentance now for sin is more deep and pungent than in times past. He increases now in humility, in the fear of God, in a spirit of prayer, in heavenly-mindedness, and, conse- quently, in the hope of glory. If afflicted, he is now submissive and patient ; if abused by men, he is now meek and forgiving. At every point you will see improvement, if you see improvement in one point. Nourish one branch and all the branches thrive, ana show signs of increasing health and vigor. There is, probably, no believer who has not been sensible of these truths from his own experience, nor has he ever been sensible of the contrary He has not known the time when one grace flourished, and the others decayed. He cannot remember when he became more humble, and, at the same time, less prayerful ; more attached to God, and less attached to his people ; more heavenly-minded, ano less patient and submissive. If there has been anything that looked like this in the experi- ence of the believer, it cannot be difficult to detect the fallac3" That was not real humility, but its counterfeit, that flonrishe ' while the man was becoming less prayerful. The very views of THE PERFECTED GOOD MAN. 157 God and of sin that would humble him, would £ so lead him to prayer. Nor was that genuine love of God that increased while he grew cold towards his children, where is seen his image, and where beams his likeness. No ; the Christian has never been sensible of the decay of one grace in consequence of the increase of another. But the other view of this subject will not fail to accord with the experience of all the family of God. They all knew when one grace withered, all the graces withered with it. They knew when worldliness increased, and it cast the frost of death over every grace ; " they grew cold in prayer, forsook the people of God," were proud and impatient, and vain and covetous. They remem- ber when they indulged some sin, and it immediately disqualified for duty. They were ashamed to go to their closets when they had sinned ; they were ashamed to attend ordinances, and perhaps dare not read their Bibles. "They thought on God and were troubled, and their faces were ashamed." They felt the wound they had given their piety in every part, lost their confidence as the children of God, their hope sunk, and their everlasting prospects were clouded over. Now why need every grace wither because in one point a wound was inflict- ed ; why did there circulate a poisonous fluid through all the branches of the plant of righteousness, when only at a single point there was inserted the sting of death, unless it be that all the parts of the new man are connected, draw their nourishment from the same fountain, and are fed, if I may keep up the appropriate figure, from the same circulating medium. If we did not know that the head and the arm are united, still when we find that on amputating the head the arm grows cold, we are led to believe that there was such a union, and that one member has died by ampu- tating the other. So the Christian graces all spring into being by the same im- pulse, and are nourished and kept in vigor together, or together wither and decay, as every believer's experience can testify. I close at present with a single REMARK How much of the wisdom and goodness of God is seen in the renewed man. With propriety is the work of creating the heart anew styled the new creation. It may well be compared to the work of building a world. To see a moral being filled with un- governable passions, creating in his bosom perpetual war, resem- 15S THE PERFECTED GOOD MAN" bling the troubled sea, which cannot rest, whose waters continual!} cast up mire and dirt, so formed anew, that the war and the confu- sion all subside, and every affection harmonizing with every other ; how does a work like this display the glory of God ! In creating man at the first there was nothing in the clay to oppose the wishes of the potter; but in creating man anew there is a nature produc- ed which is at war with the nature renewed. The whole current of the soul is turned. Probably to no single work that ever God did, have the angels looked with more admiring praise than to this new creation. Here God appears in all his wisdom, and greatness, and goodness. Here are the finishing strokes of his power and his skill. And, doubtless, some of the sweetest songs in heaven will dwell eternally on the grand theme of the new-birth. SERMON XL THE PERFECTED GOOD MAN.— NO. II. 2 TIM. III. 17. That the man of God may be perfect, thoroughly furnished unto all good 'vorha. 1 rnorosED in the preceding sermon as my object to show that the Christian must exhibit all the graces of the gospel ; 1 attempt- ed to prove the doctrine from the fact, that the Christian graces are all the operations of the same Divine Spirit ; from the fact that all the moral affections of the new man, take their character from the renewed heart; from the harmony of truth which is the grand medium of sanctijication ; from their very nature ; from the manner in which God in his word characterizes his people ; and ltom the experience of believers. I then concluded with one remark, How much of the wisdom and goodness of God is seen in the renewed man. I now proceed to remark 2 The subject will help us to solve the question whether any- one of the Christian graces, wi'.l certainly take existence prior to any other one. It has been contended by some that repentance, and by others that faith, will be, without fail, the first Christian grace. But I see not, if the view we have taken be correct, why any other grace as readily as these, may not be first in order of time. No one will precede the rest, by any long space of time. That exer- cise will be first which has the first opportunity to utter itself. Suppose the man born again in some paroxysm of distress ; who can say that he may not put forth submission previously to either repentance or faith 1 Or suppose him to be operated upon by the Spirit of God, at the moment when he is listening to some lucid description of the Divine character, how do we know that he may not love that character previously to his having that view of the Divine law, and of his own heart, which can produce repentance '' and so of any other exercise of the new heart. If among all the Christian graces there is a perfect harmony, if they all spring up together, and together flourish, or together decay, how needless the dispute, which appears first ; how impossible to know, and how unimportant if we did know! It is quite sufficient that we be as- sured, that they must all appear, must all appear early, must all 160 THE PERFECTED GOOD MAN. flourish together, and all reach their consummation in the kingdom of God. 3. The subject affords us an excellent criterion of character, by which, would we be honest, it would seem easy to decide whether we love God. If it may not be easy to decide that we have any particular grace, still it would secrn not difficult, with a moderate share of wisdom, to decide, that we have, or have not, one in the whole catalogue of graces. And when the point is settled that we have one, it is certain that we have the whole. In the inquiry, then, whether we have faith, if we do not easily succeed, let us in- quire whether we fear God, or whether we have a spirit of prayer, or whether we have meekness or humility. If, however, we have to go almost the whole round before we fix on any one Christian grace, the marks of which appear in our character, we shall have great occasion to fear that we have not the faith of the gospel. If we have that faith we shall have added all the graces which con- stitute the new man. We shall be humble because we are sinners, we shall be meek, because conscious that we often offend, we shall be thankful, and benevolent, we shall have, in more or less vigor, all the graces of the Spirit. There will be all the parts of the new man. Here, then, we have a rule, plain and simple, by which to try our characters. And if we would rigorously judge ourselves we should not be judged. 4. As a thought somewhat distinct from the last, I would sug gest that if any one of the Christian graces is wholly wanting it is evidence conclusive that that person cannot possess the grace oi God. If Christ be formed in us the hope of glory, his image on the heart must be perfect, no limb, no member wanting, and if all be right in the heart, the same will appear in the life. Fix, then, your eye on the man, who in one point is always wrong, whatever is true on other points, and rest assured that no work of supererogation, as to other subjects, can make up ihe de- ficiency and awaken the hope thai he is born of God. Can he never forgive 1 Will any offence committed against him, or con- ceived to be committed, awaken perpetual ill-will 1 Then a voice from heaven could not satisfy us that that man is born of God. Is he never benevolent? Can no occasion move him to be generous without the hope of reward '. Then is it impossible that he should be a child of God? Does he uniformly dislike the humble, conscien- tious believer? Does he always -elect Ids associates and his con- fidants from the men of the world .' Then i- it certain that lie <\"ts nut love the brother whom he hath seen ; and how can he iove THE PERFECTED GOOD MAN. 161 God whom he hath not seen 1 There must be no particular in which the mar. of God does not obey his Lord, else being unfaith- ful in the least, he is unfaithful also in much. I do not say that at times the good man may not transgress any law, but I say, without the fear that the last day will pronounce me a liar, that at times the child of God obeys every law, and that he, who on one point is always wrong, is not born of God. Hereby do we know that we love him if we keep his commandments. He that saith, I know him, and keepeth not his commandments, is a liar, and the truth is not in him. Now, to make this matter obvious, suppose a servant was obe- dient in every thing but one, but in that one would never obey, is he subject or is he not to the authority of his master 1 Will he not be pronounced a disobedient servant 1 Now it is just so in me things of God. There cannot be one law, suppose that law the least important, if you please, in the whole list of precepts, that the child of God never will obey. God has no such son or servant in his house. Judging by this rule, how many who pro- fess godliness must come short of the kingdom of God. How many are there who were never humble for a single moment in all their life ! How many were never seen to do a benevolent act ! How many never once possessed a spirit of prayer ! How many have always stood aloof from the disciples of the Lord Jesus ! How many were- never for an hour heavenly-minded ! How many never knew how to forgive ! How many have uniformly quarrelled with some doctrine of the Bible ! How many have never for an hour ceased to love the world, and the things of the world, makino- it manifest that the love of the Father is not in them. If there is no monstrous Christian, as has been attempted to be proved, but a perfect harmony among the Christian graces, I shall not need to make an apology for asserting that where any one of them is never seen, there none of them has ever been. Christ will receive none to heaven, who have a part only of his image. We are to follow him in the regeneration, else, when he comes in the glory of the Father, and of the holy angels, we shall be shut out of his kingdom. And we are to follow him wholly. Brethren, I do not believe that I ever urged a truth more im- portant than this. I wish to try my own character by it, and I wish you may all make the same use of it. Are we, at least some- times, in the exercise of every Christian grace 1 Is there any point where it can be said, that we never obey! If there is, then 162 THE PERFECTED GOOD MAN. are we in the gall of bitterness and under the bonds of iniquity, mm as the truth of God will stand. 5. The subject should caution us not to offend in one point, lest the evil be felt in all points. I mean by this remark simply, that we should be afraid to cease for a moment, when the occasion re- quires, to exercise every Christian grace, lest all the graces imme- diately suffer. We are careful not to wound the smallest member of the body, though we could spare it without much damage, be- cause it is materially connected with all the other parts of the body- It may cost, one his life to bruise his smallest finger. Now let the simile apply. Would you esteem it a great calamity to be cold in your affections towards God, then be very cautious not to let your love cool towards his people, for no sooner will you feel cold towards them, than you will begin to cool in your affections towards God. Would you not lose a spirit of prayer, then be care- ful not to become worldly-minded, for when you cease to be heavenly-minded, you will cease to have often an errand to your closet. Do you prize highly your Christian hope, and would not part with it for a world, then be afraid to let any one grace cease to be exercised, for your hope will languish with it. You cannot keep the body in a healthy state, and suffer one member to mortify, nor the sotil, if you suffer one grace to lan- guish. It would be a good question every night, Has any part of the new man been injured to-day 1 And if so, how can the wound be healed 1 Have I ceased to watch 1 Have I indulged pride, or envy, or anger 1 Have I ceased to be prayerful and heavenly- minded 1 Have I resisted evil, when I should have been meek ? Have I rebelled, when I should have submitted .1 Have I been overcome of evil, when I should have overcome evil with good 1 Thus should this awful subject awaken our keenest anxieties, lest before we have realized the consequence, we hazard the health of the inner man, and pierce ourselves through with many sorrows. 6. The subject gives us a view of the whole matter of backsliding. We see how it begins : the Christian, in an hour of temptation, lets down his watch, and ceases to exercise one of the Christian graces. Say he is accused, and instead of being meek, returns evil for evil, wrath for wrath; the evening comes, and he has no spirit of prayer ; the morning comes, and he loses sight of heaven, and becomes worldly-minded. He ceases to have a relish for the com- pany and conversation of believers, becomes proud and covetous, nnd finally loses almost all his relish for divine things. The evil began at n point, but has widened in its course. It seemed a small THE PERFECTED GOOP MAN 163 matter at the first, but is now a wide-spread and tremendous calamity. The man had better have suffered any calamity than have permitted his passions to rise. He did not realize, and could not, how dire was the plague, whose infection he inhaled. So we have seen the finger wounded by a thorn, and in a few hours the whole nervous system was in torture, and often death was the result. Ah ! how rich is that grace that saves the backslider from final and fearful apostacy ! We have sometimes wondered to see how in every point the backslider is gone away from the path of life ; you cannot name the case or the occasion where he acts out his former character. He is worldly and prayerless, does not love the people of God, is proud, and negligent, and passionate, and envious, and selfish — he is all wrong. Now if I have given a correct view of this subject, we are to expect it to be so. The Christian graces are all con- nected, must flourish or decay together. Hence he cannot go wide astray in one particular, and yet in other respects hold his former standing. One branch of the plant of righteousness was wounded, and the whole withered. And should it ever revive, the reform must begin as the decay did, at a point, and become gen- eral. The man must be converted again as at the first, by the same power, and by the same means by which he was then brought out of darkness into marvellous light. So Peter after his fall needed a new conversion, and would then be able to strengthen his brethren. Hence prays the believer, as he begins to recover, " restore unto me the joy of thy salvation, and uphold me with thy free Spirit." "Tell me, oh thou whom my soul loveth, where thou feedest, where thou makest thy flock to rest at noon, for why should I be as one that turneth aside by the flocks of thy companions." 7. The subject will teach us how to deal with believers in dis- tress. We must lead them to inquire, where and when they began to offend, and of course to suffer. There the remedy must be applied. We should not undertake to cure the body of pain, to the neglect of some wounded member, where the whole evil began. We should at least attend to the part affected, that we might dry up the source of corruption, and thus lay the foundation for returning health. So the distressed backslider must discover where he received his first injury. What sin did he commit, what lust did he in- dulge, what duty did he neglect, when the darkness and distress which he now suffers came upon him \ Here he must repent and 161 THE PERFECTED GOOD MAN. do his first works. However difficult the duty, or great the self- denial, he must tread back his guilty steps, or may abandon the hope that his soul can be restored to health and vigor. God does not cast his people into darkness wantonly, does not withdraw the Divine influences without occasion. If he hides his face it is because he sees some sin to rebuke. There is some point where there is a renewal of the old controversy, and God resolves that we shall walk in darkness, till we are reconciled to him. Would you then do good to the backsliding believer, urge him to inquiry and repentance relative to the first acts of his de- cline. What was it that first offended God 1 When did he first refuse to hear your prayers 1 When did he cloud your hopes 1 When had you first a cold and comfortless communion 1 And what sin was it that shut you out from your heavenly Father's presence 1 Where on the new man was the wound inflicted that has rankled till the disease has become general 1 On this spot keep the eye fixed, and here let every effort be made to restore health. Else expect not that God will uncover to you the beauties of his face. 8. If it should seem a calamity that the believer should be so extensively exposed, let it not be forgotten that he is just so ex- tensively qualified to receive good. As he can be injured through the medium of any one Christian grace ; so through the medium of any one he may receive quickening and joy. As in a wide and expanded relationship, we are greatly liable to be wounded and pained, so through the same medium we have multiplied advan- tages for joy and rejoicing. The broader our sympathies, the broader our sufferings and con- solations. So the senses, spread all over the human body, and thus expose a broad surface to the infliction of wounds and the endurance of pains, are also the broad inlets of pleasure. So in the new man there is kept up the same analogy of providence. It is not, however, in any of these cases to be viewed as a calamity. If the believer can be wounded at many points, so at many points can he receive nourishment and joy. Let him cultivate industri- ously any of the Christian graces, and the whole will thrive. For instance let him aim at maintaining constantly a spirit of prayer, and we have very little doubt that he will find all the Christian graces invigorated. Let him cultivate a spirit of benevolence, and lie will give the new man an impulse in every limb and memoer Let him fan the flame of Christian love, and it will kindle a fir-; that will quicken the whole pulsation of spiritual life. So if you THE PERFECTED GOOD MAN. 165 water a single root of the tree or plant, that is perishing with drought, you refresh every branch, and extend a benign influence to the smallest fibre. The Christian, then, who is sensible, I do not say of having grossly backslidden, but of not being in that state of spiritual health and growth that is desirable, may com- mence reform at any point he pleases. If he will begin this eve- ning to nourish any one Christian grace, he will find aimself re- vived throughout. Collect about you your Christian brethren, realize your relation to them, open your mind freely to them on the great subject of your spiritual brotherhood, on the place and the pleasures of your future rest, and draw more closely the bond of love, repeat the experiment every week, or if possible every day till you feel that you cannot live without them, and cannot be sepa- rated from them, that their God is your God, their Savior your Sav- ior, their Comforter yours, and their everlasting home the place of your rest. By the time you have accomplished all this, if there is any such relationship as I have endeavored to establish among the Christian graces, you will find yourselves revived throughout. You will feel a more ardent love to God, you will have a spirit of prayer, you will be humbled for sin, you will exercise an expanded benevo- lence, and your mind will become heavenly and happy. Or if you please, cultivate a spirit of prayer, go many times a day to your closet, till you find yourself living near the throne, and all the good effects predicted in the other case will immediately follow. Before you call God will answer, and while they are yet speaking he will hear, open your mouth wide and he will fill it ; make a large request, and unmeasured blessings will be granted you. Think not, however, to neglect reoentance ; this must begin and keep pace with every reform ; if you have grown negligent in any Christian duty, it is a great sin, and there must be deep repent- ance. The order of your restoration invariably must be, "repent and do your first works." This is beginning where your decay commenced, and where God will infallibly meet with you and bless you. He has thus promised, and has a thousand and a thousand times fulfilled this promise. Break up the fallow ground, sow not among the thorns. Finally. We see how we are to set about cultivating true and extensive peace. Men must be at peace with themselves by hav- ing all the Christian graces in exercise, else they can neither be at peace with God or man. Let every man have war within, and peace in society is impossible. With ungodly men there is al- 160 THE PERFECTED GOOD MAN. ways a war in their own bosoms : now let the few believers, who are associated with them, be in a state of coldness, or of backsliding, and then hope to bind the whole mass together by the bond of love, and you might as well hope to build another world. You may blame one, and another, and another, as the breakers of the peace, but peace will not be restored, till each one blames himself, and begins a reformation at home. Men may exercise their wis~ dom in attempts to make peace without purity. But the wisdom that is from above is first pure and then peaceable. The promise is " If ye walk in my statutes, I will give peace in your land." Said one wrhom God inspired, "Thou wilt keep hirn in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on thee, because he trusteth in thee." He then that would be a peace-maker in these times of rebuke and blasphemy, must aim to awaken religious feeling, and raise the standard of piety. Bring men together, who have forsaken God, who have neglected prayer, who have become supremely at- tached to the present world, and attempt to form between them some amiable compact, and you might as well yoke the lightning and the thunder to the summer breeze and bid them go forth in calmness and serenity. SERMON XII. INIQUITY FINISHED. JAMES I. 15. Sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death. We dwell in a world where nothing reaches maturity in a mo- ment. Things begin to be, they grow, and they ripen. The acorn becomes a wide-spread oak ; the infant a man ; and the little rivu- let a majestic stream, that widens its bed, and deepens its channel, as it urges its way to the ocean. Hence there is nothing to which we are more accustomed than growth. There is the infancy, the middle age, and the maturity of all created things. And it would seem that the same is true of things to which we cannot apply the term created. Holiness is begun, it progresses, and is perfected. Character has its embryo, its progress, and its completion. And in the text sin is spoken of as capable of being finished, and then its fruit is death. And yet sin, as the term is used in the text, is figurative. Every sin is a perfect whole, as soon as it has a being ; a wrong that every enlightened conscience must disapprove, and which God condemns. But sinful habit or character, which no doubt the apostle intends by the term, may have its beginning, its growth, and its harvest. And the natural fruit is death. But character or habit, in order to come to this disastrous result, must attach themselves to moral intelligence. Hence the text will lead us to speak of men who mature a wick- ed character and thus ensure the death spoken of, which can be no other but the future misery of the soul. " The wages of sin is death." Life is the result of obedience, death of disobedience. This is the unchangeable decree of God. If men will violate the commands of God and mature a character that he disapproves, he will shut them from his presence ; and this is death. He may stop them before their iniquities are ripe, as the rock rolling from the mountain's top, may meet some mighty barrier that can resist its impulse, which else will plough its path to the glen, or imbed it- self in the bosom of the stream. The growth of s-in at first may be slow, but it ripens fast as it reaches towards the time of harvest 168 INIQUITY FINISHED. When men have begun to disobey the law of God, and are casting off the terrors of his threatenings, and conscience becomes silenc- ed, a desperate character, unless the grace of God prevent, can soon be matured. Many a lad in our streets has set out in the ca- reer of sin, and become a daring young man, but had yet no idea, where and how soon his career would terminate. At first, perhaps, his way seemed pleasant. He slid down the smooth declivity, without obstruction and without alarm. Had he dreamed of the ruin that yawned before him, he would have trembled in the outset. But he saw not the end of his course, till he felt the fall that crush ed him to powder. Let me illustrate the subject I. The game of chance finds its maturity in the abandoned gambler. No matter with what materials or in what circumstances the habit commences. The transition from the game less criminal, institut- ed for mere amusement, to that where oaths are uttered, and fraud practised, and wealth squandered, and character staked, is easy and convenient. The practice should be to a thinking mind frightful, were there no danger of the habit being fixed. The waste of time is an obvious evil. No man of sense will say, that the time spent at the game is well spent. Is the mind enlarged 1 Is the heart mproved 1 Are the habits rectified 1 Is the man made holier or happier at the game 1 Do we see the gambler useful to his coun- try, kind to his family, a man of science, industry, and virtue 1 Is he spoken of as the benefactor of his fellow-men, and his death la- mented as a light put out, a blessing withdrawn 1 Then why as- sert his time well spent 1 While he neither blesses himself nor others, is he answering the end of his being ! Is he living to any of those purposes for which God created him ? Then his time is lost. And have we time to lose ? An immortal being on his way to the grave, and much to do in preparation for eternity — has he time to lose ? Has God assigned us a longer probation than was necessary ? And if not, should any of its hours be lost ? And if lost, will not some of our work remain undone when the Master comes ? But loss of time is not the whole evil of the game ; the mind is dissipated. Who ever made the experiment and did not find him- self, both at the time and afterward, less qualified for serious thought and reflection ? Suppose there are neither oaths nor cm- ses at the game, does the little, the trifling, and the silly conversa- tion of the hour enlarge or discipline the mind ? Do noble senti- ments spring up, and does manly and dignified thought originate lXUiUITY FINISHED. 169 with the cast of the die, or the shuffle of the card1. Does the man rise with a purer intellect, or one less pure, from the gaming-table 1 Is serious business more welcome, or less sol Are the domestic duties better discharged afterwards, or worse 1 Is the man more or less fitted for manly occupations] On all these questions there can be but one opinion. Nor can it be denied that the mind is enfeebled and contracted, as well as dissipated, by being employed at the game. Be it allow- ed, and even this may be disputed, that it comports with the levity and thoughtlessness of childhood, still very illy does it quadrate with the sedateness of the father and the husband. The man must feel, who lends a hand to the game, that he lays aside what is ve- nerable in years and gray hairs, and puts on the child. He be- comes a " little being" and should not be caught thus letting dowrn his dignity. Let any one approach unseen to the place of the game and take down the jumble of language and read it to the parties, and if they did not feel little before, they would feel little now. I know that men may have practised the game for mere amusement and escaped the ruin that impends, but multitudes have been less happy, and have gone this way to irrecoverable ruin. It is a sin which strangely bewitches the mind, which gathers strength by indulgence, and which, when finished in the confirmed gambler, bringcth forth death. His character is a compound of the basest selfishness, cool ma- lignity, subtle impiety, fell desperation, and unrestrained appetite. And let it be finished, and the man is ready for fraud, robbery, murder, suicide, treason, or any other species of crime, and then the fruit is death. Else tell me when the confirmed gambler was reformed, and became either a Christian or a decent man. Should you be able to bring forward one case, I can place beside it a hun- dred where the result was tragical. The instance you adduce, does but prove that God is stronger than the strong man armed, and can tame the heart at any stage of its desperation. But the hope in such a case is a spider's web. K Sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death." II. Indulgence in the cup is matured in the sot. Few, when they began to look upon the cup, and tasted its inebriating contents, intended to yield themselves victims to the destroyer. They drank, at first, to be sociable, or, it may be, to promote health, or exon- erate themselves from the charge of singularity. Not a world 70 INIQUITY FINISHED. would tempt them to excess, nor many worlds induce them to draw upon themselves the reputation of intemperance ; but ere they have thought of their danger, they are caught in the snare. But when once overtaken, still they intend to proceed no farther. They can and they will govern their appetite, and have only their occasional scenes of indulgence. Meanwhile conscience has given the alarm, and is hushed and silenced. False sentiments are embraced, tending to lessen the sin, or hide its progress, or neutralize its consequences. By de- grees the heart is hardened, the conscience seared, the habit con- firmed, temptations multiplied, and the man is seen to yield up himself a confirmed inebriate. This character of him goes out, and he is seen to throw off the restraint of public sentiment, that last hold that society had upon him. His credit is gone, the peace of his home is destroyed, his family is desolate, his friends with- draw from him, he must shrink from what little shred of reputation remains, from what of respect is still shown him, from any office he fills, from the hopes that have buoyed up his spirits, and from the whole of that enchanting vision that opened before him. Some infidel doctrine is suggested by the unsanctified heart to prop his sinking steps. The apprehensions of futurity are gone, and now the last ligature is sundered that bound him to comfort and character, and hope, and heaven ; and he cares not, at length, if he is see?i reeling through the streets a confirmed drunkard ! Now his health withers, and he sees the grave yawning, and hell moving beneath. Now, did he intend at first that the habit of tip- pling should become thus matured 1 Did he calculate on this total abandonment of comfort, of character, of credit, of confidence, of hope, of life, and of heaven 1 But his sin is finished. He is snared in the work of his own hands, and, it may be, he ends his days as a suicide or a felon. Or, if otherwise, he comes to a loathsome and deserted death-bed, and sees his poor life going out, while there dawns on him no hope of heaven, nor comes to his help any arm that can snatch him from the jaws of death, or hold him back from the worm that shall never die, and the fire that shall never be quenched. His sin is finished ; " and sin," as we have said, *' when it is finished bringeth forth death." III. Covetousness finds its maturity in the swindler, the thief, and the robber. This, in its beginning, can scarcely be distinguished from a virtue. It has on the face of prudence and economy, and can be so impudent as to claim the Bible as its advocate. " If any INIQUITY FINISHED. 171 provide not for his own, and especially for those of his own house, he hath denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel." Thns sup- ported, it claims the countenance of the wise and the good, and seems removed but a single hair's breadth from a virtue. Still God denounces it as a vice. It is an undue desire of wealth, and becomes, with the slightest temptation, a wish to enjoy what belongs to another. This vice, in its early stages, may resort to means that are lawful — industry, and a close but not generally re- puted dishonest manner of dealing. By degrees, however, there is adopted a loose but licensed swindling. The creditor is kept out of his due ; the hireling of his wages; and the poor of their supply. The article vended has its price advanced ; and what is purchased, proportionably depressed. Advantage is taken of the necessitous and the slack in trade. These oppressive measures, as the sin grows, gives place to others, which no law of God or man can be compelled to defend. A total mis-statement of facts accompanies every act of commerce, till there is an entire abandon- ment of that golden rule, " Whatsoever ye would that others should do unto you, do ye even so to them." Now, unless the fear of detection hold him back, the man is prepared for any enter- prise that can gratify a sordid mind, for theft or robbery. And it may be that, unperceived, these iniquities are practised. There may be many a thief, and many a robber, who has yet on the face of honesty, and the attire and the reputation of a gentleman. Not one of the whole fraternity ever intended to be discovered. But unless the grace of God prevents, the covetous man will, finally, mature the vice he nourishes, "and sin, when it is finished, bring- eth forth death." The whole band of speculators are in imminent danger of maturing this vice. The Scriptures furnish us with some striking instances of this sin finished. You will readily recur to the case of Achan. He was one of the three thousand sent of Joshua to subdue the city ofAi. The spoil was to be devoted to God. But the covetous Achan saw a rich Babylonish garment, and two hundred shekels of silver, and a wedge of gold. Whit he saw he coveted, and what he coveted he took, and then must lie to hide the crime. Thus we see an instance where this sin came to maturity ; and the result was, that he and all his house, his flocks, and all that he had, were stoned to death, and burned with fire. Thus "sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death." The case of Ahab is in point. He coveted Naboth's vineyard. But Naboth would not part with his patrimonial inheritance ; and 172 INIQUITY FINISHED. for refusing he must die, and the clogs must feed upon his blood. You remember the history. The result was, that the dogs licked Ahab's blood, and that of his family, in the same place where they had feasted upon the blood of Naboth. Here, again, the sin of covetousness was finished, and it brought forth death. And the case of Judas is written in lines of blood. He must have had once a reputable character, and when admitted to the apostolic office was unimpeachable. But he was covetous; and being made purse-bearer for the little family, accustomed himself to purloin its contents. This might have been his practice for years, hence his master denominated him a "thief." When oppor- tunity was, at length, given him to betray the Lord Jesus, the temptation was. too strong, and he pocketed the price of blood, and ended his career a suicide. Here again the sin was finished, and brought forth death. And I could tell you of JJnanias and Sap- phira, and a host of others, who have followed in the same train, and have earned and reaped the snme destiny. Every mail's in- telligence, and every court of police exhibit another and another victim perishing by the same iniquity. IV. Lasciviousness has its maturity in the polhttions and obsceni- ties of the brothel. I know that decency shrinks from the very terms we must use on this subject, and still the sin must be ex- posed. If the sight can be endured, go once to those wretched abodes, where are bound on the altar of impurity, her thousands of ill-fated victims, and ask them their individual history, and they will tell you how their sin became finished. They will relate to you how they fell in with some vile associate, while yet they had been uncontaminatcd, who polluted their imaginations, which led, in an evil hour, to impure desire and a lascivious look, and, finally, to the deed that made them the bond-slaves of hell forever. Their case is now considered hopeless. They are abhorred by themselves and by others, have already died a civil death, and must soon go down to the grave, and then suffer eternally the tortures of the worm that shall never die, and of the fire that shall never be quenched. Here is the text- literally true, " When lust hath con- ceived, it bringeth forth sin ; and sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death." V. Profanity, too, has Us maturity in those unrestrained blasphemies whirl/ have sometimes been uttered at the very juncture when life tvas going out. The profane man does not mature this vice in an hour. INIQUITY FINISHED. 173 It may be that he was educated under the roof of piety, where he was taught to fear an oath. And his earliest departures from yea and nay were, at the first, but a single shade removed from purity of language. By slow and painful degrees, however, he learned to utter the curse, then the oath. Here he intended to stop, as he had intended at each preceding stage of his impious career. But he had now broken through parental restraint, and had well nio-h conquered the obstinate correctness of his own conscience, and it became easy to proceed. It becomes his practice to utter his pas- sions in an oath, and he can at length swear when not impassioned, and the practice soon grows into a habit. It now becomes quite insipid to go in the old dull track, and he invents new oaths, till at length the names of God and all his sacred attributes, ring upon every change possible, and, aided by tone, and emphasis, and gesture, constitute more than half his im- pious vocabulary. Finally, he breaths pollution as soon as he opens his lips. And when he has for a time made man the butt of his blasphemies, he begins to abuse directly his Maker, and his Redeemer, and Sanctifier. Now his sin is finished, and in some surprising hour, may meet the sudden arrest of death, with a vol- ley of blasphemy, and die with the execration half finished upon his lips. My readers may not have witnessed this case, and would to God they may not, but assuredly the fact has happened, furnish- ing us a lucid comment upon the text, " Sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death." VI. So the Sabbath-breaker matures his sin by degrees. He went early with his parents to the house of God, and grew up to man- hood under the droppings of the sanctuary. But on some occa- sion he was tempted to spend a Sabbath in the fields, or in world- ly business. Some wicked associate thus induced him to break in upon his early habits. And it gave him, at the first, pain of conscience. But a second temptation and a third soon prepared him to do, without distress, what was at the first an outrage upon his whole Christian education. Soon he deserted the house of God, and soon neglected the Bible, and soon threw off his whole religious deportment. He can now waste his Sabbaths over a newspaper, or on his bed, or in a place of rendezvous. And he entices others away with him to his guilty haunts, and is now quite content to have all his Sabbaths pass without acquiring any know- ledge of God, of truth, or of duty. But in the mean time his pro- bation glides away, and he will come to his death-bed, and his 17-i INIQUITY FINISHED. Sabbaths be over, all over, and no preparation made to meet hia God. He would then give a world for a Sabbath. His tortured conscience, unless disease or medicine should stupify him, will rehearse in his hearing the history of his mis-spent Sabbaths, and portray before his astonished eyes the iniquity of his heathenism, till his dying chamber will become a scene of horror like the mid- night of Egypt. What he knows of truth, will but paint to him in the more gloomy colors, the sin of despising God's Sabbath?, which he might have improved in becoming acquainted with him- self and with God. He is haunted with the conviction that no Sabbath awaits him in heaven. His sin is finished, and he must die, ignorant of that gospel through which God fits his people for his kingdom. VII. So the growth of infidelity, may be traced from its low begin- nings to the same destructive maturity. In his youth the man was a speculative believer, and was satisfied that the Bible was. the truth of God. But some shrewd associate made sport of the Scriptures, and put into his hands at length the " Jlge of Reason" But so correct had been his education that at first he dared not read it. It lay by him and he finally cast his eye upon it, and it suited the temper of his heart ; he perused it, and it shook his faith. He yet intended not to become a disciple of that wretch whose principles did not sustain himself in his dying hours. But one scandalous volume referred him to another and one associate who had discard- ed the Bible, led him to another, till at length he was prepared to yield his better judgment. He went on to prop the fabric of his unbelief, till consistency of character drove him to abandon the gospel and quit the sanctuary, and discontinue his prayers, as all inconsistent with his system of rationalism. He had now no means of learning his danger, ond felt quite secure in his iniquities. He needs no Savior, and spurns with contempt the overtures of mercy. And his sentiments have misled his conscience, till he can sin with a high hand and feel little or no compunction. He bids fair to die an unbeliever, and although he may renounce his scheme in the hour of death, it will probably be too late to apply to his soul the consolations of that gospel which he has deliberately abandoned. True, the predic- tions of his future destiny may, on his death-bed, force him, as they have many of the champions of his creed, into a speculative faith in Jesus Christ, yet is there little hope, that the slighted and abused Redeemer, will, at that late hour, become his helper, and INIQUITY FINISHED. 175 then he is lost for ever. His sin is finished and it bringeth i'ortn death. VIII. So we might trace the sin of lying from the first instance of prevarication on to the fixed habit of dauntless and deliberate per • jury. When men at first depart from the simplicity of trnth, they do not intend to confirm the habit, much less to lie under the solemnities of an oath. But one departure from veracity begets the necessity often of another, and another. And one fortunate escape from detection, holds out the promise of future impunity. Thus the man whose lips had been accustomed to truth, becomes habituated, before he sees his danger, to utter falsehood. And the case will soon happen that he must swear to what he has stat- ed, and God is called in to witness to the truth of a lie. And he perceives that Heaven does not avenge the deed, and ventures on it again, and again, as party, or passion, or interest dictates. He now soon becomes prepared for deliberate perjury, and is, perhaps, detected and suffers the penalty of human law, or, if otherwise, goes on till the law of God takes effect, and he is turned with all liars into the lake that burnetii with fire and brimstone, which is the second death. Thus the sin is finished. Finally. Let me sum the whole up in one case. These sins some- times all meet in the same man, and grow to maturity together. The vices are all twin-sisters, and can flourish in the same soil, and under the same sunshine. The gambler becomes profane and false, and fraudulent, and intemperate, and lewd, breaks the Sabbath, and derides the truth of the Bible. Some of these vices seldom fail to be in the society of all the residue. When did you know a pro- fane man who had any conscientious regard for the truth, or ven- erated the Bible 1 Or when an intemperate man, or lewd, who did not engraft these vices into the same stock where all the others grew 1 Adopt one sin and all the others plead for their own adoption. Will the infidel judge it out of character to be profane1. Will the false scruple to baptize his lie witli an oath 1 Will the inebriate be ashamed to be lewd 1 Will the Sabbath- breaker venerate the Bible ! While one of these sins is coming to maturity, the others, like shoots by the side of a bramble, will spring up and grow, and when matured may any of them brin^ death. The fact is, to mature any vice requires the abandonment oi restraint and when this is lost, any iniquity can vegetate. The 176 INIQUITY FINISHED. man becomes to every good work reprobate. The understanding is distorted, the conscience seared, the heart rendered cold, and hard, and selfish, and the man becomes deaf to remonstrance, and is placed out of the reach of reform. Now, many sins are finished in the same man, and they inevitably bring forth death. REMARKS. I. How may we know when sin has approachea nigh to maturity 1 No question can be to us all more practical or important. We may know by various signs : 1. Maturity in vice stuns the sensibility of conscience. When men can sin and not be filled with distress, it argues that they have silenced the monitor in their bosom. When the gambler feels happy after the game, and the drunkard dreads not the occa- sion that will tempt him to indulgence, and the profane fearlessly utters the oath, and the false can be as happy, when he has spoken a lie as the truth, and the fraudulent feeds cheerfully, on his ill- gotten wealth, and the Sabbath-breaker has no twinges of conscience, as the hours of holy rest pass by unimproved, and the unchaste can sleep quietly in the bed of guilt, and the infidel is sensible of no inward testimony to the truth — in every such case there is reason to fear that conscience is driven from her moorings, and the storm is high, and hard by is the reef of death, where she is to be finally and fatally shipwrecked. 2. Maturity in vice progressively excludes shame. When the pro- fane will utter their coarse dialect within the hearing of the moral, and when the intemperate do not blush to be caught at their cups, and the liar is not put out of countenance by detection, and the Sabbath-breaker is willing to be seen, wasting the hours of holy rest, and the fraudulent can boast of the advantage they have taken, and the gambler is willing to be caught at the game, and the infidel sneers at the gospel, and the licentious are proud of their intrigues ; then shame is gone, and sin is finished — a great poet has justly said, — " He that blushes is not quite a brute." And a greater, and a better man has inquired, "Were they ashamed when they had committed abomination ? nay, they were not at all ashamed, neither could they blush; therefore they shah fall among them that fall ; in the time that I visit them they shall be cast down, saith the Lord." Here is the very case stated. When men have so far urogresscd in vice that they have ceased INIQUITY FINISHED. 177 to be ashamed, then the threatened judgments of God take effect, and sin, being " finished, bringeth forth death." II. The subject addresses itself to parents. Our poor dying children are liable to be ensnared by these vices ; if we love them, we shall carefully watch them. 1. We shall be careful not to corrupt them ourselves. We have known unhappy parents who taught their children to gamble, and be false, and profane, and fraudulent, and to desecrate the Sabbath, and to use the cup, and reject the Bible. All this, perhaps, they did not intend to do, and would have been alarmed, it may be, could they have seen the end from the beginning. And still the restraints they withheld, or the passions and appetites they in- dulged, or the principles they inculcated, or the example they set, or the doctrines they taught, led their children directly in the way of the destroyer, and their whole character, when sin is finished, will be chargeable to their unhappy parents. 2. If we love our children we shall be careful not to permit others to destroy them. Some parents suffer their offspring to be corrupted before their very eyes. Perhaps they receive some outcast into their family, and he becomes the tutor of their child- ren ere they have suspected the danger. They wonder where and when their children learned to be profane, to use the cup, to be familiar with the language of impurity, to break the Sabbath, to deal fraudulently. Ah ! they learned of those who were introduced as domestics in the family circle. Unless parents would bring down their own gray hairs with sorrow to the grave, let them be jealous over the moral character of their servants and of every other inmate of their house. And we must be equally careful who are their associates abroad. It is inhuman to send them to the school of vice. There may be youth near us with whom they may not safely mingle. There may be families in their very neighborhood, with whom we should be afraid to have them associate. The seeds of vice may be sown, and the shoots not distinctly seen until we are dead, and still they may spring up, and ripen, and bear, by-and-bye, when we are in heaven, the fruits of death. 3. In view of this subject be warned not to let any sin ripen in your hearts. Think not to trifle with iniquity and come off with- out harm. If you begin a wrong practice, always remember that it may ripen into an obstinate and deadly habit. The rock which you roll from the summit of a mountain may move slow at the 23 178 INIQUITY FINISHED. first, and require great effort to start it, but it may acquire mo- mentum before you are aware, and may plough itself a path to the valley through the mightiest barriers that a creating God has in- terposed in its course. The only safe doctrine is that inspired maxim, " Touch not, taste not, handle not" Say not, I have learned the rules of the game, but intend not to be a gambler Say not, I sometimes indulge myself in the cup, but I do not intend to be a drunkard. Say not, I know I am sometimes covetous, but do not intend to be a thief or a robber. Say not, I sometimes indulge my lewd affections, but shall never entrust myself in the house of in- famy. Say not, I sometimes allow myself in profanity, but can never be tempted to blasphemy. Say not, I have sometimes pro- faned the Sabbath, but I shall proceed no farther, shall never quit the sanctuary, or cease to regard that day as holy. Say not, I sometimes ply the unbeliever's objections to the Bible, but shall never become an infidel. Say not, I have sometimes prevaricated, but shall never become perjured. Oh, say not, I mean to indulge my sins at present, but do not mean to become an abandoned trans- gressor. None can predict what you may not become, if you set out in any course of transgression. " The heart is deceitful above all things," and it may happen that you may feel quite safe at the very juncture when some darling iniquity has gained the ascend- ancy over you, and your steps are just about to slip. May a mer- ciful God save you. SERMON XIII OBEDIENCE THE PRACTICAL TEST OF AFFECTION. MAT. \CHI i. 6. A son honoreili his father, and a servant his master : if then I he a Father, where is mine honor ? And if I be a Master, where is my fear ? This address was made to the priests of the Lord, at a very cor- rupt age of the Jewish church ; and applies not only to them, but to the whole family of Israel. There was corruption not merely in the priesthood: the whole church was exceedingly polluted Every precept of the law was violated, and every rite of the sanc- tuary perverted. Hence most of the addresses made to them ap- ply, not to believers, but to impenitent men, and that in all ages, and in all countries. " Oh, Israel, thou hast destroyed thyself," would seem a strange address to true believers ; but is exactly suited to a community of hypocrites, whose profession of godliness embraced all the holiness they aimed to acquire. It will then be no violation of the spirit of the text, if we apply it to an impenitent world, embracing those who have no show of godliness, as well as the whole family of false professors. We find in the lips of many who make no pretensions to a change of heart, high professions of respect for the character and government of God. They claim him as their Father, and would have us believe that they respect and obey his laws. It will be my object in this discourse to inquire, whether men of this cha- racter YIELD HIM THAT FILIAL ESTEEM, OR THAT DUTIFUL SUBJECTION, which are due to a father and a master. That the subject, how- ever, may impress our minds the more tenderly, let us, I. Contemplate the government of God, and see if we can discover him dealing with all his rational creatures as a Father a?id a .Master 1. In the first place, as a Father and a Master he protects them This the son and the servant expect. God keeps his eye upon all his intelligent creatures, and puts underneath them his arm of mercy. Not an hour would life be sustained-, did not Jehovah keep in tune this wondrous frame; did he not heave the lungs) ISO OE1DIENCE THE PRACTICAL TEST OF AFFECTION. move the heart, and brace every member and every nerve. Dan- gers stand thick around us, wait at every corner do destroy us, but are warded off by that unseen Intelligence, " in whom we live, and move, and have our being." The unbeliever as well as the believer, holds his life, his reason, his health, and all his comforts as a loan of Heaven. While he neglects to pray, and while every mercy is forgotten in unthankfulness ; while he even sets his mouth against the heavens, and defies the power that protects him ; still, with paternal vigilance, God extends to him his protecting mercy. He lies down and sleeps, and wakes, because the Lord makes him to dwell safely. 2. As a Father and a Master he provides for all his creatures That bread which men feed upon, as the fruit of their own indus try, and for which they thank themselves, and every garment that covers them, and the house that shelters them, are the gifts ot God. No man could make his seed vegetate, or render his fields fertile, or ensure success in trade, independently of his Maker. The showers and the dews, the genial sun, and the soft breezes ot heaven are entirely under divine control, and unite their influence to feed, and clothe, and warm, and give health and vigor to an apostate world. Thus, as a Father and a Master, he makes timely and kind provision for all his creatures. 3. As a Father and a Master he makes us know his will. We have some lessons of instruction from the broad sheet of nature ; but in his "word he has opened all his heart ; has made every duty plain, and placed it in the power of every son and servant of his to do his pleasure. He has plainly revealed himself and his will concerning us. He has made us acquainted with his Son and his kingdom. If disposed to obedience, we have nothing to do but ta obey. And that his family of intelligences might have no excuse from marching up promptly to their duty, he has caused his word to be proclaimed in a preached gospel. Thus we have line upon line, and precept upon precept. All this we expect from a father and a master. 4. I add, he has made our duties light. The service he requires is pleasant and easy. He demands what is to our own interest, and prohibits what would ruin us. His law, in all its rigor, is a most kind and benevolent institution, and has conferred upon his tamily the richest comforts and the greatest obligations. Next to the gospel, the law of God is the richest bequest of Heaven to our world ; and they were both issued with the same design — to ren- der intelligent beings happy in the enjoyment of their Maker. OBEDIENCE THE PRACTICAL TEST OF AFFECTION. IS 4 Finally, if we obey him, he smiles upon us, and provides for our future happiness as does a father and a master. The law itself, which he had a right to issue without a promise of reward, implies that the dutiful shall be happy. He approves of every act of duty, and will notice it with his favor even if we give to the thirsty a cup of cold water from love to him. When we have sinned, and are desirous to return to duty, he accepts our repentance, forgives us, and loves us. Thus he acts the part of a kind Father and an indulgent Master toward all his intelligent creation. And many whose hearts have never been won to love and duty, are still sen- sible that God is kind, and deserves their warmest esteem and faithful service. But after all this we hear Him say, " If then I be a Father, where is mine honor ?" II. Let us inquire how a kind and dutiful son or servant will treat a father or a master. I yoke the two together, because if faithful and dutiful, they wil exhibit in these relationships very much the same deportment. In the first place, the son loves his father, and the good servant his master. The attachment is very strong ; and, perhaps, often as strong in the one case as in the other. You have seen servants who would die to protect their master; and the attachment of a good son to his father none will question. Let us then inquire whether that class of men who acknowledge that they have not been regenerated, but who wish to be considered very friendly to their Maker, do really fuel any love to his character. While they are made the recipients of his bounty, they may feel glad, and may mistake gladness for gratitude. Or viewing his favors as an evidence of his love to then + hey may feel that conip acen- cy in themselves which may seem like affection for hin. Or making some essential mistake in their views of his character, they may love the image they have set up, and which they call Jehovah. Or being grossly ignorant of his character, they may never feel their hearts drawn out toward him, in any very strong affection or passion, and so may not know that they do not love him. Or these things may all combine to deceive and ruin them. If we have any love to God we must love his whole character and must learn his character from the Bible. We must not only love the Being who waters our fields, and makes the earth fruitful, and the air salubrious; who supplies us with health and plenty; but the Being, (for he is the same,) who sends drought, and fa- mine, and pestilence ; who cuts off our comforts, and sends dis- 182 OBEDIENCE THE PRACTICAL TEST OF AFFECTION. ense, and death, and darkness, and sorrow into our habitations. We must not only love him, who created us, who protects us, who feeds us, who enlightens us, and who offers us salvation; but hiir. who gave us his law, gave that law its sanctions, and annexes to a rejection of the gospel the sure pledge of endless misery. We must not only love the Being who has watched the world with paternal solicitude, and has given to the different nations their prosperity and their honors ; but him, (for he is the same God,) who blotted out the old world, who burned the cities of the plain, who has plagued the kingdoms of men with revolutions, earth- quakes, storms, and wars. We must not only love him who has built a heaven for redeemed sinners, but him who has digged a bottomless pit, and kindled a quenchless fire for the finally impeni- tent. We cannot love the Author of all good, and hate him as the Author of what we call evil. There is but one God, and he as- sures us that he makes light, and creates darkness. We must vest him with all his attributes, and love him as a whole Deity, or he will spurn our affection, and count us his enemies. He is as wor- thy of esteem in the exercise of holiness, justice, truth, and ven geance, as when he displays his infinite goodness and mercy. His threatenings do him as much honor as his promises. His plagues are as necessary as his blessings, his lightnings as his rains, his law as his gospel, his prison as his palace. His rod and his bread are both blessings to his children and his servants. Now the question is, do that class of men who speak so highly of their Maker, and who would have us believe that they are so grateful for his benefits, and have pleasure in contemplating his character, but who have no pretensions to having passed the new birth — do they love the whole of the Divine character 1 Have they selected the attributes of their supreme Deity from the Bible, and do they disrobe him of no single perfection 1 Is the view the Bible gives of Jehovah pleasant to them in all its parts 1 Would they not alter one single trait if they might \ Have they no ex- ceptions to make when they think of him, and speak of him, and pray to him ] And when they think of going to be in his presence for ever, is his character exactly such as they would love to con- template and to dwell with 1 I know that some of these questions, at times, are trying even to the believer ; but he does hope, that he approves of every at- tribute in the character of Jehovah. But do not that class of men, to whom this sermon is principally addressed, manifest, that thcv are pleased with only apart of the Divine character ! Hence hi.ii" OBEDIENCE THE PRACTICAL TEST OF AFFECTION. 183 frequently will they deny such of the doctrines as clash with their views of God. Total depravity is viewed as rendering themselves too deformed for him to love till they are radically changed. The necessity of such a change begets a doubt whether they are on the way to heaven. The deity of Christ argues, that men are in a state of fearful ruin from which none but an almighty Redeemer can rescue them. The necessity of a Divine influence to change the heart, cuts off the hope which they build on their own good works, as qualifying them for heaven. Any Divine purpose re- specting the heirs of salvation, places their destiny in the hands of God ; where they are afraid to trust it. His sovereignty in rege- nerating whom he will, leaves it doubtful whether their purposes of future repentance will be executed. Threatenings of everlasting misery to the finally impenitent, exhibit God as too inflexibly holy to be (heir Jeltovah. Do they not dread these doctrines because they undermine their high opinion of themselves, and in their view mar the character of God \ If they loved him, they would have confidence in him : they would believe what he says, would dare to be in his hands, would have no fear of his decrees, nor be apprehensive of too great severity in his justice. The child, when he is received into the arms of his father, asks from him no promise that he will not cast him into the fire or the flood. If he knows that his father has written his last testament, he has no fear that he is disinherited : and the faithful servant has the same confidence. 1. The good child loves the society of his father, and the faithful servant loves to be with his master. Every one has observed that love will thus operate. If then God be a Father, where is his hon- or \ Do men in their native state love to be with God 1 The be- liever will know what I mean by being with God. There it a sense in which God is every where ; but a special sense in which he is present with his people. Communion with him is as much a reali- ty as communion with a friend. In a friend we do not see that spirit with which we hold fellowship. When it has fled, still all that we saw is present, but communion is at an end. God's people have endearing fellowship with him, and there is no blessing which they prize so highly. In the family, in the closet, in the sanctuary, and in the field, they mingle their souls with the Great Spirit, and are happy. The ordinances are appointed for this purpose. One day spent in his courts is better than a thousand elsewhere. But the men we have described — do they understand the na- 184 OBEDIENCE THE PRACTICAL TEST OF AFFECTION. ture, and estimate the privilege of this fellowship 1 They think they love their Maker, and are displeased if we question their piety ; but do they seek communion with him 1 Are they men of prayer, and accustomed to the work of praise 1 Do they love retirement and meditation 1 Do they pore much over the page of inspiration, and do they cultivate a spirit of devotion 1 All this is to be expected of one who loves to be with God. A few transient thoughts of him as a Benefactor are not a sufficient testimony of supreme attachment. God commands more than this, and if we are his children or his servants, we shall desire more. Else what is meant when we are commanded to " pray without ceasing V1 And what does David mean when he says, " As the hart panteth after the water-brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God 1" Or Job, when he says, "0 that I knew where I might find him ; that I might come even to his seat 1" Now a religion that produces none of all this — that never thirsts after God, nor grieves on account of his absence — is to be suspected as radically deficient. It may serve to deceive, but will never save. 3. A good son and a faithful servant will be cheerfully obedient. A dutiful temper is indispensable in either of these stations. The son who does not cheerfully receive and execute the wishes of his father is unworthy of the name, and deserves to be disinherited. And the servant who does not exhibit the same dutiful temper is a mere slave. Let us then apply this test to that class of men who are addressed in the text. Is it their joy to obey the Lord ? They will then attend well to his commands. They will read and medi- tate upon his law, and will make his word the man of their coun- sel, and will study to obey. Is this the fact 1 Are they employed in studying ways and means to glorify God, and make mankind happy ? Do they discharge with conscientious fidelity all the du- ties of their respective offices and relations ] Are they among the first to feed the poor, instruct the ignorant, reform the vicious ? What they would that others should do to them, do they make this the rule of their own conduct / And are they uniform in their regard to duty ! Do they yield God the service he requires, and exhibit that respect to his name, his word, his worship, and his Son, which he enjoins ? Or, to express the whole in a few words, have they a tender conscience, which fears to do wrong, fears to neglect a duty, fears to violate an obligation, dreads the least deviation from the most perfect rectitude 1 Such a con- science is, of all others, the most decisive test of a holy mind. "If ve love me, keep my commandments." "By this shall all OBEDIENCE THE PRACTICAL TEST OF AFFECTION. 185 men know that ye are my disciples, if ye do whatsoever I com- mand yon." We may then safely rest the matter here; if men conscientiously regard all that God has spoken as immediately binding upon their consciences and their conduct, — believe them pious ; but if they say but little, and care but little about duty, we must retain all our fears. 4. The son and the servant will each be attached to his father's or his master's family. If a child or a servant be unhappy at home, it is an omen of evil, an evidence of some unhappy aliena- tion of affection. If we apply this test to the characters addressed in the text, what is the result ? Do they attach themselves to the family of Christ 1 Do they love his disciples, choose them as their inmates, and hold sweet counsel with them, and wish their society for ever 1 And is their attachment stronger to those who are emi- nently holy than to others 1 If we love God, we shall love those most who wear most prominently the marks of his image. With them we shall wish to be identified in a compact, strong and eternal. Hence to hope that we love the Redeemer, while we stand aloof from his family, is absurd. " By this shall men know that ye are my dis- ciples, if ye have love one to another." Hence, generally, we shall find the people of God in a cluster. We may find a few strayed from the family, but we shall find them uneasy and unhap- py till they come and take their place in his house. 5. The servant and the son are very jealous of the honor of their father or their master. They will not hear him reproached; they separate themselves from his enemies, and from the place where he is not honored. And all this God expects from those who ac- knowledge him as their Father or their Master. But do we dis- cover this delicacy of feeling in that class of men who would be esteemed religious, but who have no pretensions to a change of" heart"? Are they grieved to hear the name, and attributes, and works of the Lord spoken lightly of 1 Do they retire from the sound of profaneness, and feel themselves abused, if men in their presence will not reverence Jehovah ? It must be proper to bring every man's religion to this test. You would esteem no man your friend who could stay, and be content, where he heard you abused. Mere silence in him, while others abused you, would evince that his friendship was deceitful. Now God has assured us that "he is a jealous God 1" Of course he will watch the smallest deviations from propriety in those who would be thought to love him. The man who would smile at an oath, or carry on conversation with one who is profane, and show no disapprobation, will find it difficult 24- 186 OBEDIENCE THE PRACTICAL TEST OF AFFECTION. to prove that he is grieved when God is dishonored, and will for- feit his claim to piety. One has not a keener sense of the touch of fire than of any contact with profaneness, after he has been sanctified by the grace of God. Finally — The kind son and the dutiful servant will wish to have others acquainted with their father and their master. Their own attachment is so strong, that they conceive nothing more to be necessary, than that his character should be known, in order to his being loved and respected. Apply this test, if you please, to that classs of men who have no pretensions to having been re- generated, but who still insist upon it that they love God and are friendly to his government and kingdom. Do they wish to ex- tend the knowledge of God to others ! Are they grieved that so small a portion of the human family have the sacred volume, and that those who have it know so little of its contents 1 Do we find them among the first to propagate the gospel \ Are they deeply interested in the great work that is at present going on the Chris- tian world 1 Do they rejoice at every new translation of the scriptures! And are they ready to contribute of their wealth to propagate the truth ? All this must follow a strong attachment to God. And if things be otherwise with those who hope that they love him, there is somewhere a radical mistake. If men love the God of the Bible, they will wish others to have the Bible that they may know and love the same God. If they doubt the truth of the Scriptures, and are attached merely to some being whom they style the God of nature, then indeed they may feel indifferent whether men have any other than the book of nature. But this is deism precisely, and men would be ashamed, in the present day, to advocate a system that is becoming obsolete. In fact, there is no God of nature, but the God of the Bible. He who built the hills and built the sun, inspired the book of grace, and is the only God who can save in the hour of distress. Why should we deceive ourselves with a scheme which is rotten, or be content that others should trust their souls to some Jupiter or Moloch, that never had any existence but in the imagination of such as did not like to re- tain God in their knowledge 1 My dear readers, we must come to the conclusion (and the sooner the better) that there is no religion without a change of neart. ' Except a man be bom again he cannot see the kingdom of God." We must have that same religion which has brought others to their knees, and borne them to the place of prayer, and OBEDIENCE THE PRACTICAL TEST OF AFFECTION. 187 and cut them off from the men of the world, and rendered them men of faith and of devotion, or we must die without a?iy, and perish in our delusions. Religion cannot be shaped to please a jarnal mind — cannot be brought down to the frigid taste of un- sanctified men. It has remained the same in all ages, and will .•ontinue to demand a temper which unsanctified men do not feel, . ml a conduct which they do not exhibit. We are the more anxious to do good to that class of men who have been brought into view, because we see many excellences in their character. They are neither intemperate, profane, nor false ; they are civil, and decent, and kind, and hospitable ; they are often public-spirited. Hence true religion would place them among the first on the list of useful men. We grieve to see them lack this one thing needful, because it prevents their usefulness, and mars their happiness. But we are anxious for another reason, which must not be con- cealed. We think they are entirely mistaken in their hopes of future happiness. We fear their death-bed will be a scene of stupidity or of horror. We apprehend, (and if we are deceived still we are honest,) that they are in imminent danger of being lost for ever. Their religion has too little to do with a Savior : it nourishes too high an opinion of works; it is too frigid, too thoughtless, too prayerless ; it is too much afraid of the cross; is not sufficiently humble, watchful, circumspect, heavenly-minded. We fear it is not the religion of the gospel, and will avail them nothing in the last day. We think it important that they examine their hopes, before it be too late ; and if they find that they have not a religion which will stand the test of the last day, they should bow immediately to the Lord Jesus Christ. Why should men in- trench themselves in a refuge of lies, to be demolished by the hail of the last day, and leave them unsheltered in the midst of that fearful storm. If God be a Father, honor him. Devote your life to him, and yield him your richest, best affections. Be ashamed of no duty which he requires ; shrink from no sacrifice he demands ; and let the world know that you are not ashamed of your Father. If he be a Master honor him. Make his law your study, and consider his service your freedom. Then you will at last hear him say to you, " Well done, good and faithful servant, thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things : enter thou into the joy of thy Lord." It will then be your privilege and your honor to serve him in some more elevated sphere of usefulness for ever. SERMON XIV. THE CHRISTIAN'S SHEET ANCHOR. rsALM cxix. 116. Uphold me according unto thy word, that I may live ; and let me not be ashamed of my hope Few words in the English language are used more loosely than the word hope. If one feels desirous that God may hereafter re- new him, he assures us that he is not without hope ; if he expects to be saved without conversion, he hopes ; and if he presumes without any evidence that he is now a child of God, he possesses a hope. None of these examples gives us the proper use of the word. Hope always fixes on a future good, and rests on present evidence. David anticipated future and eternal blessedness in the presence of his Lord, and he had present evidence for believing that he should enjoy this future good. But he was still a sinful man, for there is no man that liveth and sinneth not. His repeated transgressions interrupted his hope. If he should at last fail of the expected glory he knew it would expose him to shame and contempt in the view of all those who knew of his former expecta- tions. He professed to love the Lord — had often expressed his confidence in his covenant faithfulness, and had been pronounced to be the man after God's own heart. And after all this, to fail of heaven, and Jind himself associated with God's enemies, would be dreadful beyond the power of description or conception. Hence he prays, u Uphold me according unto thy word, that I may live." He was confident that the true believer would persevere. God had given his word that he would uphold his people, and David prays that God would do as he had promised. He believed, too, that the spiritual life of the saint was in the hands of God. The expectation that I may live is founded on the calculation that God will uphold me according unto his word. That holy man had no confidence in his own strength. God must keep him, or he should at last be ashamed of his hope. Brethren, the same apprehensions, and the same prayer, will become us all. THE CHRISTIAN'S SHEET ANCHOR. 189 To understand the foundation, the nature, and the operations of that hope of which we shall not at last be ashamed, is a high and valuable attainment. To designate such a hope will be my present object. I. That we may not at last be ashamed of our hope, it must ori- ginate in a change of the temper of the heart. The hopes of many have a far different origin. Some presume that they are fair can- didates for heaven, because they have been kept from the pollutions into which many others have plunged. Their parents were more watchful, and they were placed in different circumstances from other youth, and grew to manhood uncontaminated by the vices of the age. And they presume that their exemption from vice is the result of religion. Like the young man in the gospel they think themselves fair candidates for heaven, and very deserving of uni- versal esteem, because they have been kept from the grosser transgressions of the divine law, ascribing to divine grace what is the effect of mere restraints. Others have confidence in their good estate, because in some period of seriousness they had exercises resembling those of which others, now believers, were the subjects. They saw themselves to be in danger, had some compunctions of conscience, felt great distress and at length obtained relief. Immediately they presumed that they were new creatures, and were confirmed in the strong belief that they should see the kingdom of God ; and upon this hope they have lived ever since. Others have been at some period of their life the subjects of a partial reformation. They have broken off from some grosser crimes, are become more civil and decent, and although they can relate no exercises resembling the operations of grace, yet ven- ture to hope that there has been a secret, silent operation upon their hearts. Of their religion little more can be said than that " the unclean spirit has gone out." Some build their hope on an opinion which others have incau- tiously expressed with regard to them. Some one, perhaps a per- son not qualified to judge, has expressed the conviction that they were believers, they grasped at the opinion expressed, and believ- ed it true, and rest their souls on this sandy foundation. Others hope for salvation because they have been admitted to the communion. In an evil hour the doors of the church were thrown open so wide, that they, with all their impenitence and un- belief, found admittance. They are now treated as Christians, and 190 toe christian's sheet anchor. addressed as such, and having committed no overt act sufficient to expel them from the communion, the delusion becomes every day stronger and stronger. No one would suspect them of piety were they not seen at the Lord's table, and but for this fact they would entertain no hope of admittance into heaven. Forgetting that many will at last cry, and be rejected, " Lord, Lord, have we not eaten and drunk in thy presence," they fold their arms confident that heaven is theirs for ever. Others have hoped because of some dream or vision in which Jesus opened his arms, or heaven its portals to their reception. A voice seemed to proclaim, " Thy sins are forgiven thee," or a text of Scripture providentially promised them salvation. Thus they rest their perishing souls upon a straw. Brethren, none of these things are the origin of that hope of which we shall not be ashamed. It must begin in a change of tem- per. The carnal mind must be regenerated. The heart of stone must be taken away, and there must be given a heart of flesh. Old things must pass away and all things become new. There must begin in the soul a divine life. God must be loved and Christ re- ceived by faith. The man must be born of God, and there must appear the unquestioned features of a new man. Christ must be formed in us the hope of glory. Such must be the commencement of our religion, or the time will come when we shall be ashamed of our hope. II. That we may not at last be ashamed of our hope, it must ren- der us holy. "Every man that hath this hope in him purifieth himself even as he is pure." And we are taught the same truth in this text — " Christ in you, the hope of glory." Now Christ can, in no other sense, be in the believer, than as his doctrines form our creed, his temper reigns in our hearts, his example guides our steps, and his love engrosses our affections. To hope for salvation through Christ, this hope must render us like Christ. The design of reli- gion is, that through its influence, God may "purify unto himself a peculiar people zealous of good works." We read of a hope that maketh not ashamed, because the love of God is shed abroad in the heart. Gospel hope is joined with faith and love, and will not be found alone. " Now abideth faith, hope, charity." He, then, whose hope does not make him a better man will know the pain of finding his hope perish when God taketh away his soul. It is a question placed beyond all controversy, that he, who is begot- THE CHRISTIAN S SHEET ANCHOR. 19i ten again to a lively hope by the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, will rise with him to newness of life. The man, then, whose life and conversation is such that he can hardly support a profession, whose associates have no hope that he is a believer, and with whom the children of God can have no fellowship, may rest assured that his hope will one day render him ashamed. To sup port, in the view of men, a fair profession, is certainly a small part of the duties of a Christian : for, in addition to ail this, we must "keep the heart with all diligence for out of it are the issues of life." When the Christian has appeared with advantage, in the view of others, still he has a mighty warfare in his own bosom, and will have occasion to wonder at last if he finds himself in hea- ven. Holiness of life, then, is an indispensable associate of that hope that maketh not ashamed. III. That we may not at last be ashamed of our hope, it must bear examination. If we are afraid to examine our religion, lest it should be found not to be the religion of the gospel, there is evidence of conscious hypocrisy. We are to be always ready to give a reason of the hope that is in us with meekness and fear, and if we are to be al- ways ready to give a reason, we must always have one ; and, if we have one, we shall not be afraid to examine the ground of our hope. Those who have a good hope through grace can have no fear as to the result of an examination. Hope is spoken of as an anchor of the soul sure and steadfast — but an anchor is a useless appendage if there be no bottom in which it can be cast. Those who lose their hope as soon as they examine it, who are plunged into doubt and darkness whenever they inquire into their state, have a hope which assuredly will make them ashamed. Hence the exhortation, " Examine your- selves whether ye be in the faith — prove your own selves." IV. That Ave may not at last be ashamed of our hope it must live without an effort. We shall bend all our efforts to be holy and our hope will support itself. He who finds it difficult to support the hope that he is a believer, and must be for ever grasping at every word and thought that may afford him confidence in his good estate is a very doubtful charac- ter. While the Christian agonizes to keep his feet in the path of life, he hangs very loosely by his hope ; while lie strives to enter in at the strait gate, he considers it far less important that he sup- J 92 the christian's sheet anchor. port constantly the unshaken belief that he has entered in ; the hypocrite takes more pains to keep alive his hope, than to warm his heart. It is far easier to wrest from a Christian his hope, than to wrest it from a self-deceiver. Let a close and trying sermon be delivered, and it will be frequently found that God's people and no others have resigned their hopes. I hey dare examine the state of their religion, and they will examine, be the consequence what it may. If the result is an abandonment of their hope, this but humbles them, and they return to God, their hope revives, and they are made happy. But he, whose hope embodies all his religion, has to make a perpetual effort to keep that hope alive, and has through the whole of this effort many apprehensions that he shall at last prove a cast-away. He feels and he assures us that he would not give up his hope for a world ; but it would be worth ten thousand worlds to him if he would. It is his mistaken hope that prevents him from being alarmed. He is on the very brink of death, but he dreams that all is well, and his dreams hold him pro- foundly asleep, and multiply the dangers that await him. V. The hope that maketh not ashamed is always interrupted by sin, while the hypocrite retains his hope unimpaired in the midst of transgression. When the Christian commits sin he is conscious of acting out of character, and his hope trembles. He knows that piety from its very nature is at war with every corruption, and that nothing but perfect redemption can still the quarrel. It is, to pursue the figure, on both sides a war of extermination. Hence the least disposition to parley with sin mars the hope of heaven. But we have seen the profane, the drunkard, the false, the conten- tious, the prayerless, and every other species of transgressors hold fast to their hope while they were led captive by sin. Per- haps we can name no sign that is darker. To entertain a hope of salvation, that is unshaken by sin, argues a morbid conscience and an unbelieving heart. It evinces the absence of every soft, and tender, and holy affection, and settles the point that Christ has not there impressed his image. Oh, how many with a hope like this, have passed on unsanctified to the death-bed, and have at last found their hope perish when God taketh away the soul. VI. That we may not be ashamed of our hope others must have a higher opinion of our piety than ourselves. Unless there be something distressingly wrong in our lives, others will feel more favorably towards us than we do toward our- THE CHRISTIAN S SHEET ANCHOR. 193 selves. Suppose there is nothing in our life very immoral, still there may be coldness and indifference to religion, worldly-mind- edness, covetousness, neglect of duty, lightness, and folly, which will render the hopes of others for us small, but if our own hopes continue undiminished our case will be dark. The Christian will give others better evidence of his piety than himself, because others can only survey the externals of the man, while he sees the sink of iniquity in his own heart and feels all its base and mis- chievous operations. The Christian would find it comparatively easy to obtain salvation if nothing more was necessary than to be pious in the esteem of others. And yet we know that the Christian finds it no easy matter to still the tongue of slander. Our Lord himself could not so live as to silence calumny and detraction. His apostles were vilified, and all who are faithful in Christ Jesus must suffer, and still it is comparatively easy so to live that men shall be able to say nothing against our Christian character and say the truth. God's people cannot make bad men love them while they follow Christ ; but they may so live that all their slanders shall be false, and all their reproaches groundless, — may give their bitterest enemies unequivocal evidence that they love their Master, while yet they may judge very unfavorably relative to themselves. The fruits of their religion, better seen by others than themselves, will be fair and wholesome. Thus will operate that hope, which maketh not ashamed : it will give others, not its possessor, decisive evidence of its stability. VI. That we may not, at last, be ashamed of our hope, it must put us upon earnest endeavors to reach the object of our hope. If heaven is the object of our hope, we shall endeavor to brino- so much of heaven down to earth as possible. That good which we wait for with eager desire we perpetually anticipate, and thus taste beforehand. The amazing good in prospect will employ to reach it every power of the soul. It is known to the good man that barriers, nuu'.erous and formidable, block the way of life. The danger of final disappointment is great. The indolent will fall short of the prize. We arc assured that " the kingdom of Hea- ven suffered! violence, and the violent take it by force." The apostle says, "I count not myself to have apprehended, but this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth to those things which are before, I press toward the mark, for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus"' The believer will labor and be anxious to know what is the hope of 25 194- THE CHRISTIAN S SHEET ANCHOR. his calling, and what the riches of t lie glory of Christ's inheritance in the saints. Heaven will be viewed as worth all the pains that can be taken to reach that world. There will be great wrestling in prayer. The soul will put forth all its energies to break its May through the barriers of death to the fields of light. The true believer, counting the things unseen as infinitely surpassing the things seen and temporal, will labor earnestly for the meat which endureth to everlasting life. It will he seen that he is aiming at something great and invaluable. In the pursuit of this good, every minor object will lose, comparatively, its value ; will sink from his view, and leave his mind absorbed, and his heart su- premely set upon God and his kingdom. He will not count his own life dear to him, "not having on his own righteousness, Avhich is of the law, but that which is through the faith" of Christ, the righteousness which is of God by faith. In one word, the man who has chosen God as his portion, and heaven as his home, will be in earnest. A few dull prayers and a few listless efforts will not satisfy. He will feel that he has entered upon a race, and that a crown of glory is the prize. Hence, he will lay aside every weight, and run with patience. Then, on reaching the end of his race, his hope will not make him ashamed, nor will he be ashamed of his hope. I close with a few REMARKS. I. The subject should urge us to examine ourselves, and render us willing to be examined. The danger of being deceived is great ; and the consequences of such deception irreparable. How unspeakably horrid to find on the death-bed, or, perhaps, at the very instant that we are dy- ing, that our hope is a dream. It is too late to repair the mis- chief, or have it repaired. There is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in the grave, whither we hasten. To know that the character is formed, and find it a had character — the des- tiny is fixed, and fixed in perdition; no language can depict the despair and horror of such a discovery. Hence, if we can know the worst of our case, before we die, how desirable! 1. The subject should render us submissive and thoughtful in every scene of life, by which God tries our hope and proves our faith. Comparatively, it is of no importance what we suffer here, if we may, by these sufferings, be waked from our delusions and escape the wrath to come. If our enjoyments in the present THE CHRISTIAN S SHEET AACH0R. 195 world should be in some measure diminished, it is a matter of small moment, if by this means we can be qualified for the rest and en- joyment of heaven. If we find that the fruits of our afflictions are to take away sin, we may rather rejoice that God will deal with us so kindly. The early Christians took joyfully the spoiling of their goods, knowing in themselves that they had in heaven a bet- ter and an enduring substance. If our hope in heaven is unwaver- ing, it must be about all that the good man needs — it is that far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory that must satisfy us, even if it be an inheritance in reserve. 3. If our hope is such that we expect not to be ashamed of it at the last, let us not be ashamed of it now. Men are often seen to conduct as if they were mortified at the idea of being considered believers. They have been known to make an effort to conceal the fact that they had taken upon them the name of the Lord Jesus Christ. They are now ashamed of their hope, or rather, of the Savior who is professedly the object of their hope ; and our apprehension is, that he will be ashamed of them when he shall appear in the glory of his Father and of the holy angels. 4*. In that hope, of which we shall not at last be ashamed, we may now rejoice. " Which hope we have," says an apostle, " as an anchor of the soul, sure and steadfast, and entering into that within the veil." Thus our present hope has to do with the joys of heaven. It is the privilege of those who have a good hope through grace to rejoice and be happy. The child of God is not called to gloominess, and darkness, and sorrow, and apprehension. He is the only man that can be happy, whatever scenes may open around him. " Though the fig-tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines : the labor of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat : the flock shall be cut offfrom the fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls ; yet he will rejoice in the Lord, will joy in the God of his salvation." He has nothing to fear but sin ; God will take care that nothing else hurt him, if he will be careful not to be destroyed by sin. " For I am persuaded that neither death nor life — nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers — nor things present, nor things to come — nor height nor depth — nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus my Lord." "All things are yours; whether Paul, or Apollos, or Cephas, or the world ; or life or death ; <>r things present or things to come; all are yours; and ye are Christ's, and Christ is God's." 196 THE CHRISTIAN S SHEET ANCHOR. 5. To so live as to sustain a high hope of heaven is the waj to die in peace, with anticipated prospects of future blessedness. This remark is founded on the conclusion that Christ will prove faithful to his dying people : his promise is, " I will never leave, I will never forsake thee." This promise, I have supposed, must mply that Christ will be present with the dying Christian. If on this subject I am mistaken, then this remark goes for no- thing. Oh ! may it not deceive the people of God ! I have sometimes tried to believe that the matter was otherwise, and I have thus reasoned : If the people of God are, at any period of life, peculiarly unfaithful, or if they have spared, to a miserably late hour, some darling lust, same right eye sin, from which the covenant of God secures their final emancipation, he may punish them for this on the bed of death, and then suffer them to be saved, "though as by fii'e." And that passage which seems to intimate, that when flesh and heart fail us, God may be the strength of our heart and our portion. But after all that has been said, the hope that I may wake up in death,' and put forth a repentance that shall reach back and cover the sins of a life-time ; or shall reach many months back, and secure my pardon when flesh and heart is fail- ing, and then save me the necessity of being holy in early life, is rather an attempt to hang the hope of heaven on a spider's web. And when I have thus provided a hope for some departed friend, and who died in horrid darkness, that I fear is lost, I hardly dare rest my own soul upon the fabric I have erected. May the God of mercy give you a good hope, through grace, that shall not per- ish when he taketh away the soul ! May that hope brighten up in death, and be uttered like that of Simeon's, in a song that angels love to hear : " Now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, ac- cording to thy word, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation." 6. To live with this high hope, is to speak when Ave are dead. It is said of one, that though dead he yet speaketh. Of Enoch it is said, " He walked with God, and he was not, for God took him." His story will continue to be told as long as there is a single volume of the book of God still in use. And every believer who dies, triving high hopes of heaven, and maintains a life consistent with those hopes, leaves a savor of godliness behind him that will shine through scores of years, and be brighter and brighter when the sun has gone into total darkness. There is an eternity attached to the moral actions of every be- liever that can no more become extinct than the rays of light from THE CHR1STIAIS S SHEET ANCHOR. 19"} the sun can melt away while the sun still shines. The Lord Jesus Christ is the believer's light, and will shine upon them for ever — and they by his light see light — and the light they see they reflect for ever. Hence every believer is a light that cannot go out — when removed from earth he will go to shine in a nobler sphere — a star of light for ever. 7. This subject should show the ungodly how unprepared they are to die. What would be a preparation to die, is a preparation to live. SERMON XV. HEAVENLY FELLOWSHIP. 1 JOHN I. 3. And truly our fellowship is with the Father, and with his Son Jesus Christ. There is an interchange of relationship and affection between the parts of God's holy kingdom, which it is delightful to contem- plate. There is no doubt a sublime and holy fellowship between the different persons of the Godhead, laying a foundation for unin- terrupted and never-ending enjoyment. There is a communion and a friendship, reciprocal and permanent, between God and an- gels, and between him and glorified spirits, and this fellowship is kindly extended to the members of the church militant. " Our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ." What an enterprise of grace, to establish communion between a world of rebels and their Maker ! And how surprising, brethren, that our repeated provocations should not have cut us off* from this communion. It will be my object to remark upon the nature and extent of this fellowship. It is acknowledged to be a subject on which one can obtain no distinctness of views without the aid of experience. If it should be a precious hour with you the next time you come to meet him at his table, and Christ should bring you into his ban- queting house, and spread over you the banner of his love, you will learn more of the nature of this fellowship in that single hour, than would be taught you, by a gospel ministry, unassisted by that experience, in a century. We are told I. That our fellowship is with the Father. This fellowship origi- nates, 1. In the relation of Creator and creature. Here is opened the first intercourse between heaven and earth. Creatures drop from his hand, and immediately raise their eye to him as the Author of their being. On this relationship is founded a most endearing in- tercourse. God must take pleasure in viewing his creature, in seeing it precisely the being of his choice, and encouraging it to HEAVENLY FELLOWSHIP. 199 lean upon his arm ; and the creature, till alienated by some ill-fat- ed apostacy, must take pleasure in surveying the uncreated excel- lences of his Maker. This relationship extends to unholy beings as entirely as to those that are holy, but through the influence of depravity it generates in their case no fellowship. God abhors the vessel he has formed, and the potsherd strives with his Maker It is only where the relationship has not been sundered by aposta- cy that it becomes the basis of a pleasant and permanent commu- nion. 2. There exists between believers and their heavenly Father the relationship of Benefactor and recipient, constituting a medium of delightful fellowship. His hands daily dispense our blessings. What he gives us we gather. He opens his hand and we are abundantly supplied. Conscious of our dependence, we approach his throne by prayer, and spread our wants before him, and he is pleased with our confidence and encourages us to repeat our re- quests. Thus through the medium of a kind and watchful provi- dence, there is kept open an intercourse between heaven and earth. The benefits being dispensed with benevolence, and received with ingenuous gratitude, lead to pure and holy fellowship between the dispenser and the beneficiary. God is also the benefactor of un- godly men, but his benefits are not received with thanksgiving, nor spent obediently, hence there is opened between God and them no delightful intercourse. They receive his mercies as the beast feeds in his pastures, and drinks at the brook, unmindful of his Benefactor. 3. The relation of Lawgiver and subject creates a tender and in teresting fellowship. The moral Governor makes known his willv gives to law its sanctions, issues promises, and presents motives to obedience, and the dutiful subject becomes cheerfully the Lord's servant, and thus is generated an interesting communion. God is present by his Spirit to expound his law ; and his subjects waiting to know the will of their sovereign, take pleasure in obedience, and are loved by their Lord. Hence the infinite space between God and man is filled, and the heart of the Lawgiver and his sub- jects mingle their affections, in a grand and noble fellowship There is the same relationship between God and his disobedient subjects. Devils are the subjects of God's moral government, and will be under obligation to obedience for ever, but depravity mars* and, when it is total, destroys communion. 4. That which crowns the whole, which blesses all the other re'ationships, and is finally the principal source of communion, is '200 HEAVENLY FELLOWSHIP. the mutual attachment which subsists between God and his people. He lias put his fear in their hearts, has brought them to delight in his statutes, and to walk in them, and they have chosen him as their Lord. They claim him as their Father, and they are owned by him as his dutiful children. They approve all his character and delight in his praise, and he takes pleasure in them, puts upon them his own beauties, makes them what he can love, and then loves them. Thus we have fellowship with the Father, and this fellowship will be increasingly sweet till we are prepared for his presence, and are joined to the full assembly of the Church of the first-born in heaven. II. Not only have we fellowship with the Father, but with his Son Jesus Christ. With him we have fellowship, 1. As Redeemer and redeemed. When we we had forfeited our life at the hand of justice, the Lord Jesus Christ took our place, and bore our sins. To him we owe our escape from hell, and that escape he purchased with his bloody sweat and dying groans. The price of our redemption could be no less than the life of the Redeemer. And now, from the throne of his glory, he dispenses the blessings which he died to purchase, to those who are made willing in the day of his power. These thankfully receive, and daily rejoice in the fruits of his redeeming love. Thus is opened between the Savior and his people an inexhaustible resource of pure and precious fellowship 2. We are in fellowship with the Redeemer as the head and the members. Says an apostle, " We are members of his body, of his flesh and his bones." He is to his people a source of spiritual life, and they in a sense, not to be fully told, constitute the body of Christ. Their life is hid in him, and from him circulates through nil his members, as the natural head governs the vital principles of the body. Hence he views his people as parts, precious parts, of himself. The figure is changed, but the same idea is retained, when he is called the vine, and his people the branches. We know that thcy live only by their union to the vine. Thus the Church daily de- rives its strength and its life from Christ. For their nourishment he has graciously provided on earth-a gospel feast, and in heaven an endless banquet ; and if any hungry, thirsty soul would see Christ, he will be there to sustain him with the bread of heaven. I hope many of my readers will feel the truth of the text. The avenues of this communion will be opened, and we shall know the HEAVENLY FELLOWSHIP. OQ| blessedness of having fellowship with the Father, and with his Son Jesus Christ. When we view the Redeemer in his human nature, there are still other sources of fellowship. We fellowship him in his sufferings. From him and from us God in his wisdom may hide his face. When he cried out, " My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me V he came so into our place that we can sympathize with him. The believer is sometimes deserted of the sensible presence of his Lord. In such a case, our trial is similar, but probably far less dreadful than his. Hence, under the frowns of Heaven he pitied us, and we have a very sen- sible fellowship with him. Or if men rise upon us in malice, persecute us, cast out our names as evil, and account us the disturbers of the peace, or even nail us to a cross, Christ can fellowship us. He is at present raised above the malice of men, but he did bear their reproach. He has not forgotten the impious band that united to achieve his ruin. The scribes, pharisees, Sadducees, the high priest, Pilate, Judas, and the whole sanhedrim united their forces for his over- throw. Though in heaven, he still recollects the fraud, the false- hood, the treachery, and malice, which lined his path and set his temple with thorns. He can never forget the ingratitude of that generation whose diseases he healed, whose leprosies he cleansed, whose ears he unstopped, whose blind he enlightened, whose poor he fed, whose sins he pardoned, and whose dead he raised. In these matters we have not a High Priest who cannot be touched with our infirmities, but was in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin. Hence, between him and his people, when called to similar trials, there is a fellowship of sufferings. To have been fellow-sufferers in the same exile, the same prison, the same bondage, the same shipwreck, or the same wilderness, creates, you know, an endearing fellowship. And, brethren, it will endear Christ to us, and us to him, for ever, that we have passed the same desert, and were beset by the same race of unpitying beings. And the promise, you know, is, that if we suffer with him, we shall also reign with him. And we have experienced together the malice of the same tempter. He knew the intrigues, felt the buffetings, and bore the malice of the adversary. He still remembers the forty days in the wilderness, and can furnish us with the same weapons with which he conquered. And we are not ignorant of his devices. Still he goeth about as a roaring lion seeking whom he may devour. But 26 ?02 HEAVENLY FELLOWSHIP. in all our sufferings from his malice, our Redeemer is nigh to help us, and has fellowship with us in our trials. And the same is true of the sufferings incident to human nature. He endured hunger, thirst, want, pain, and poverty. " The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man hath not where to lay his head." The best birth-place that could be furnished him was a manger, the best home a cottage, and the best offering, when his mother was purified, a pair of doves. And his life was oppressed throughout with the same poverty. He eat bread in the swreat of his face, and was glad to rest his bones on a bed of straw. Hence, if his people are poor, if they lack bread, or raiment, or home, or friend, or offering, he feels for them ; and there is produced an endearing fellowship. If Christ will pass with us through the same vale of poverty, and through the same scenes of want, neglect, disease, and pain, we can utter no complaint. Even in death the fellowship remains unbroken. He felt and suffered under the cold chills of death, and that the most painful. His tender nerves quivered on the ragged nails, his temples bled under the thorns, and his heart upon the point of the spear. Hence Christ can fellowship us when we die. We shall meet with him in the valley, and his rod, and his staff will comfort us. How sweet will it be to have fellowship with him there ! And we can have fellowship with him in his resurrection. He has passed through all the terrors of the grave, he has lighted that prison, has chased away the glooms of the vault, and has prepared for us a song against that hour, " Oh, death, where is thy sting'!' He has secured to his followers a happy resurrection. Angels heard him exclaim, as he rose, " I am the resurrection and the life ; he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live ; and he that liveth and believeth in me shall never die." He has styled himself the first fruits of the resurrection, and we shall all have fellowship with him in his escape from the damps of the sepulchre. As he is our head, if we love him, we shall rise with him to everlasting life. How sweet to have so finished a fellow- ship with our Redeemer. But, after all this is said, the grant! medium of fellowship is holy love. We must have complacency in his character, and he in ours, that our sympathies may be perfect. He must clothe us with his own beauties before he can fellowship us, and we must have a spiritual discernment of his excellences. Hence, how cer- tain that impenitent men can hold no communion with him. And how undeniable that our fellowship with him in the coming world will be more perfect than in the present. We shall then see him HEAVENLY FELLOWSHIP. 203 as he is, and our love to him will be perfect. Let us attend a little to this future and more perfect fellowship. 1. Our fellowship will hereafter be richer and sweeter, as we shall leave behind us all our fears and doubts. There remains so much iniquity in all our hearts, that the most holy have much oc- casion to fear that they shall never reach the kingdom of heaven. And in all our duties, and our songs, our feasts, these fears are pre- sent to alloy our pleasures. But when Christ shall appear we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is. The redeemed shall be confirmed in a state of holiness and happiness. Our fears will be gone, the conflict ended, the foe defeated, the prize won, and the palms of victory awarded. Then what a sweet communion ! On looking back we shall see the wilderness all trodden over, not an- other snare or pit in our path, not another serpent to bite, nor foe to assail. Jordan and the desert behind, our feet planted on the hills of promise, and our hearts at rest. We may descry other pilgrims, toiling, weary, tempted, trembling, u faint, yet pursuing," but our own case happily decided. And who can calculate what joy he shall feel when his fears are gone, how sweet that marriage supper where there will mingle no apprehensions of disappointment. 2. Our fellowship will be more enlightened. Here, at the best, we see but through a glass darkly. Every view we take of Christ and truth is limited and obscure, but in heaven we shall know even as we are known. This is a dark world, that will be lighted by the glory of God and the Lamb. And our communion with the Re deemer will increase its pleasure, in proportion to our increase of light. 3. The fellowship of heaven will not be disturbed with unbelief. Faith will have done its work and be changed to vision. The veil will be rent, every object of faith be a reality, and the things un- seen be distinctly developed. If at present, though now we see him not, yet believing, we can often rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory, how increased will be that joy, and how unsul- lied that glory when our eyes shall see him ! 4. Our communion in heaven will be enhanced by the absence of every unbeliever. We shall have no apprehension that any traitor has taken his seat with us at the heavenly banqui t. They that were ready will have gone into the marriage, and the door will be shut. The tares will have been gathered up. In the apostolic family there will be no Judas. We shall cheerfully extend the fellowship we feel to all who shall drink with us of the river of the water of life. *>. And what is a still richer thought, we shall be holy. No 204 HEAVENLY FELLOWSHIP body of sin and death will be there to mar the feast. Every cor- ruption will be cured, every grace made perfect. The Redeemei will frown upon none of the holy family. Oli, can it be that 1 shall be there, and you brethren, so changed! No guilty conscience to spoil our fellowship. We shall feel that we have a right there, shall apprehend no wrong motive, shall fear no repulse, and be disturbed with no wrong affections. This busy world will not intrude its cares, to mar our pleasures and pollute our offerings. As we shall yield ourselves to the Redeemer in every song, there will be no re- serve. He will be seen to deserve the whole heart, and the whole will be his. No other object will claim a share in our worship, or divert the current of our affections. Hence our communion with the Redeemer will be uninterrupted, and unalloyed. Every act of fellowship will raise us higher, and still higher in the scale of be- ing, till at length we shall find our hearts glowing with an ardor akin to that which angels feel, and our song vying with theirs in the sweetness of its melody. Brethren, let it be our paramount con- cern to equip ourselves for this sublime and immortal fellowship. 6. There is something pleasant in the thought that we shall not carry to the heavenly banquet these weak and dying bodies. At these communions we are liable to be faint and weary. Sabbaths and ordinances lose at present much of their sweetness through the morbid influence of a diseased body. The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. We tire amid the heavenly road. Hence many of our tears, hence many of our groans, and much of our gloom and despondency. But, when once we have breathed the air of heaven, we shall feel all the vigor of youth, we shall tire no more, we shall be dull no more. And how rich an ingredient will this be in our future fellowship! Finally. — In the coming world our fellowship with Christ, and with his holy family will continue uninterrupted for ever. Much of our comfort in prayer, and in the ordinances, and in all our acts of devotion in the present life, is destroyed by the intruding thought that the season will terminate. If we had begun to taste the blessedness of heaven, and had almost forgotten that Ave were in the body, we were soon reminded of our mistake, and were con- strained to descend and have our ardor cooled by a flood of world- ly cares. These Sabbaths, and these communions have their periods. We shall find nothing permanent till we come to heaven, and there nothing will be transitory. Our song and our fellowship will be increasingly new for ever. SERMON XVI. THE WISE BUILDER.* PROVERBS XIV. 1. Every wise woman buildeth her house. It is rem irkable that the Scriptures have adapted their instruc- tion to every character and condition in human life. Here the fa- ther and the master, the son and the servant, learn their duties. •Here the husband and the wife, the child, the youth, and the old man ; the magistrate and the monarch are each instructed in his respective obligations. Hence every one should study that book, and form a character after the model it exhibits. The text will lead me, as you perceive, to address one great division of the hu- man family. This division includes about half of our race. It will be my object to exhibit some thoughts calculated to aid in forming the female character. The text suggests a natural di- vision, and will lead me to describe the wise woman, and show that such a woman will build up her house. I. I am to describe the wise woman. It will be obvious that in this description I must not confine myself to any particular age or situation, but must follow her through all the various offices and re- lationships which she may be called to sustain. I observe, then in the 1st place — That she must know how to manage with prudence and care the concerns of a family. All other qualifications combined would never atone for deficiency here. Inspiration declares it the business of the woman " to guide the house." Where the mother is a cipher in her family, it deranges every domestic concern, and is a certain prelude to poverty and misery. No other person can feel the interest, or endure the fatigue, requisite to the discharge of these duties. Hence the daughter, who for any reason what- ever, is kept ignorant of domestic concerns, is rendered incapable of filling the station which the God of nature has assigned her. And to be willing to remain ignorant argues a depraved taste. It should be our aim to prepare ourselves to be useful in the place * Prepared anil delivered nt a (lunation party given by the ladies of his congregation during the author's residence at Amherst, Mass. 206 THE WISE BUILDER. assigned us, and to fill that place with dignity and honor. Hence every daughter, and every wife, should cheerfully habituate herself to the burden of domestic care. How many when they had thought themselves equipped for the direction of a family, have needed to learn the first principles of domestic economy. That taste which prepares a female to adjust the ornaments of her house, is not sufficient, nor that wealth which can furnish it with elegance; nor that ruggedness which can endure the drudgery of home ; nor the whole combined. Health is an invaluable blessing, and a fine taste is a source of much comfort, and wealth has its value ; but in connection with all these, there must be a nice and accurate knowledge of domes- tic economy, to render a Avife a help-meet. The husband is ru- ined who does not find his house a respectable, social, neat, and happy home. If he can be more happy in any other house than his own, he is a lost man. 2. A wise woman will improve her taste, and her manners. By taste, in this connection, 1 mean a relish for the beauties of nature and of art ; and by manners, a suitable expression of a good taste. Some taste is indispensable in the decent and respectable manage- ment of a family. The design of the domestic relations was the augmentation of social blessedness. Mere subsistence is not ah we need, but all we can acquire without some improvement of taste : and no faculty is more improvable. Its improvement must add to our innocent enjoyment, and was given us for this purpose. I am aNvarc that many have been considered proud because they exhibited taste. But the probability is, that one can be as proud of his hovel and his rags, as another of his palace and his dress. I have seen beings in the shape of men, who were proud of their deformities, and have exhibited no shame when they had acted the ape, and played the mastiff. They are proud who treat with neg- lect or contempt their equals or inferiors ; or exhibit scorn towards those who cannot make the same show as themselves of beauty, learning, or riches. But all this has no connection with taste, except to evince its absence Why should not tne improvement of this faculty as well as others, render us happy 1 Why are the civilized more happy than the savage ! Why is the landscape spread out before us unless an improved taste may derive pleasure from the view? One univer- sal and dull monotony would have served every purpose of xitil'thj, aside from the pleasures of taste. The flower might have had but one hue, and the rainbow but one color, if taste is a useless THE WISE BUILDER. 20T faculty. The varied sceneries of spring, harvest, and winter, are useless, as far as we can see, but to the eye of taste. Has the wise Creator, who in everything else had his purpose, painted na- ture in the richest variety of shade without design \ He cannot be charmed himself with these created beauties, and the brute has no relish for variety and harmony. If done for men, and done in vain till the taste be cultivated, how incumbent on all who would be happy to prepare themselves to see a God employed in paint- ing the beauteous landscape ! The female especially, whose taste, when cultivated, is exquisitely delicate, who would answer the end of her being, and take pleasure in the variety and beauty of God's works, will not permit a talent so useful to be unimproved. And with her taste there is no fear that she will not improve her manners. I acknowledge that this is a species of improvement which relates principally to the present world, but it has an impor- tant bearing upon religion. The Bible enjoins it upon us to be courteous ; it qualifies us to make our religion useful ; it repels prejudice, and gives us readier access to the heart. Ease of man- ners will procure us friends, extend our influence, and increase our usefulness. In a female, it creates a dignity which commands re- spect, an enchanting softness that ensures esteem. It is not reli- gion, but it is her handmaid, and is not beneath the dignity of a minister to teach or a Christian to learn. '6. A wise woman will aim to improve her mind. This department of our nature, to which we ascribe perception, thought, reason, and judgment, is capable of vast enlargement. It is at first, like the body, small of stature ; and its first operations, like the infant actions, are feeble. Like the body it grows to maturity by nutri- ment ; or by neglect, may remain through life in its infant state. It is amazing how circumscribed are the limits of thought in some whose years indicate wisdom. When they should have explored much of the natural and moral world, their minds have scarcely left the threshold of their habitation And ignorance is sure to fos- ter base affections. Hence pride, envy, jealousy, censoriousness, suspicion, and calumny. The ignorant judge of every object by their own limited experience. Every action and every object is brought to the standard of their own contracted apprehensions; is hewn down, and shaped and moulded, to their own dwarfish concep- tions. Hence one-half of the tumult and misery of our world. The ignorant have within themselves no source of happiness, and they are a barrier to the happiness of others. Like some dull do- 208 THE WISE BUILDER. mestic animal, they never go abroad for food, but stay rather and starve about the place of their home. The mind is enlarged by receiving ideas, and by using them as materials of thought and reasoning. And these materials may be collected, not merely from books, but from the volume of nature, ind from every event of providence and of grace. To enlarge the mind is merely to learn to think wisely ; and is the duty of all, to whom God has kindly given the power of thought. To be willing to remain ignorant, is to feel indifferent whether God's great object in our creation be accomplished. We have at present only begun our existence ; we are destined to a nobler state. If we prove obedient subjects to God's holy kingdom, he will continue, by his providence and his grace, to ennoble our na- tures for ever. The infant in its mother's arms, if not injured by her who should be its best friend, is yet to be an angel. All through eternity we may hope that it will be still rising to a no- bler stature. "It doth not yet appear what we shall be." And happily we live in an age when no man presumes to say, that the female mind possesses any natural imbecility, which must neces- sarily cramp its growth, or depress its manly stature. Every wise woman, then, will enlarge her mind ; will read, ana think, and reason. She will be especially ambitious to grow in the knowledge of God ; will become acquainted with her own being, and with being in general ; that she may be the more happy, and the more useful. Sisters, mothers, there lies a world around you, and within your reach, which it is your duty to explore. It rests with you to determine whether you will carry with you to the grave a contracted mind, or a mind large as the regions of space. Men have been found base enough to libel your characters, and have pronounced the female sex made for servitude. The re proach is unmerited, and has been promptly repelled. It belongs to you to settle this question for ever, and show the slanderer that you are capable of an intellectual dignity, which can look him into deserved contempt. Endeavor in yourselves, and your daughters, to give noble examples of female magnanimity ; to reach that growth of thought thai shall make yon and them blessings to un- born generations, and to the world. 4. A wise woman will endeavor to enlighten and improve her con- science. This is that faculty of the soul hy which we weigh the morality of an action; than which no power of our nature is more susceptible of improvement. To improve the conscience we must crive it light, and let it guide us. Every one has a conscience, and THE WISE EUILDER. 209 will be guided more or less by its dictates, in the way of life or death ; and, if that conscience be uninformed, or misinformed, it will lead us on the route to ruin. The papist is conscientious when he worships the mother of Christ, the Mahometan when he stabs his brother, the Hindoo when he immolates his offspring, and the Persian when he prays to the sun. Paul, while he persecuted the saints, thought he did God service. There is no calculating where conscience may lead us, if it be unenlightened by the Bible or the Spirit of God. Well enlightened, it guides us to happiness and heaven. But wrong will not become right because we are conscientious in the wrong. This has been supposed to be the meaning of that text, " As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he ;" but this is a very gross perversion of a very plain passage. In a female a tender conscience is an indispensable ornament. To see her fly from wrong, as the tender nerve shrinks from the touch of fire, is her highest beauty. It casts about her a glory Avhich no slanderer can tarnish; a beauty which neither time, nor care, nor age, nor trials can deface. She will have honor in any circle where her name is mentioned, and influence in whatever concern she en- lists. These will attach an honor to her offspring, and there will rest a glory upon her grave that will long survive her ashes. One of this description I knew, and I love to remember, and mention her. Her presence awed sin into shame, rendered the slanderer dumb, and the proud humble. All about her loved her, for she loved them. Unless she could speak well of her neighbor she was silent. Her piety was respected, because her conscience was enlightened. She gathered around her the pious and the wise, and made them happy till she was summoned to heaven. They wept at her funeral, and her mantle, I hope, fell on some who wit- nessed her ascension. Her children were respected by all who knew their mother, and some of them I hope will enjoy her socie- ty in heaven. A female without a conscience is a frightful character. Her hus- band can have no confidence in her fidelity, and who can guarantee the character of her children 1 No prudent man will make her house his home. Her touch pollutes, and her embrace is death To all about her she opens the avenues of infamy and hell. To the full extent of her influence she carries misery and tears. She destroys her children, poisons the streams of friendship, breaks the bonds of affection, and chills every stream of social and celr-tial life. And, finally, there settles upon her grave a dark, black cloud. a cloud in which there is no bow of promise, a horrid beacon to 27 210 THE WISE BUILDER. unborn generations, warning them not to make shipwieck of cen- se ience. 5. Jl wise woman will be particularly careful to cultivate the heart There may be improvements made in the temper and affections of the heart, aside from religion. The instinctive affections are capa- ble of improvement by other means than grace. Selfish motives, or an improved taste, may lead us to become tender, affectionate, kind, and soft, in our social and domestic intercourse. Still grace is the only effectual source of right affections. The heart is naturally too hard to he much softened by any other than a celestial influence. The baser passions must be eradicated, holy affections infused and cultivated, and the whole life made new, by the same creative power that formed us at first. The female cha- racter when otherwise improved is still essentially defective in the absence of piety. We delight to see them disciplined to domestic care, we admire an improved taste and an enlightened mind, still more a tender conscience, and, most of all, a pious heart. Religion, in a female, secures all her interests. It graces her character, promotes her peace, endears her friendship, secures for her esteem, and adds a dignity and a worth indescribable to all her deeds. How sweet when the mistress of a family is the handmaid of the Lord; when the mother of children is an example of piety ; when the wife of the bosom is espoused to the Redeemer, how de- sirable that the daughter be a chaste virgin to Christ ; that the sis- ter lean on his arm, who sticketh closer than a brother; that the songsters of the temple belong to the heavenly choir ! How plea- sant, when the absent husband can think of home, and reflect that angels watch the place, that they may guard the interest and the health of his heaven-born companion, and the children of the cove- nant ! When about to leave her a widow, and commit to her ex- clusive care his helpless offspring, how consoling, if her character is such, that she can lean upon the widow's God, and put her chil- dren under the guardianship of Him who is a Father of the father- less! Then he quits the world calm and happy, supported by the hope that he shall meet their mother and them all in heaven. Religion has a peculiar sweetness when it mingles with the modest softness of the female character. So the dew-drop bor- rows beauty and fragrance from the rose. Females need the comforts, the hopes, and the prospects of re- ligion, more, if possible, than the other sex. Subjected peculiarly to the trials of disobedience, and the weakness of a feebler consti- tution, their state, when raised by improvement, and propped with THE WISE BUILDER. '211 Christian consolations, is still a state of subjection and pain. Sup- pose one of your number yoked to a husband of acid temper, and the prey of disappointment and disease, where, but from heaven, does there dawn upon her one beam of light. But if she can look upward and descry a place of rest when the toils of life are fin- ished ; a home where she may be happy, a friend who will ever be kind, and a nature raised above fatigue, and pain, and death — then, while the pains of living are softened by the hope of dying, and earth blotted out by the glories of heaven, she can exercise patience and submission till the time appointed for her release. Thus re- ligion fills the cup with pleasure that was full of gall, converts the veriest hovel into a palace, and adapting the spirit to its lodgment, makes it happy. Thus the hope of heaven, if that hope were a dream, smoothes her passage to the tomb, and renders religion essential to her happiness. Thus I have enumerated some of the qualifications of a wise woman. To obtain them will require much pains and many sacri- fices, but, when acquired, they are worth more than worlds. And if time may be spent, and pains endured, and ease, and health, and even life, sacrificed to acquire riches, which at the best are poor, uncertain, and unsatisfying ; may not more pain be endured, and greater sacrifices be made in acquiring that wisdom that will ren- der us happy in life, in death, and forever. Were this our only state, intellectual improvement would lose more than half its value : but we are to live forever; and the pre- sent state is preparatory to a future. This is but the infancy of our being, and the mind is our better part, and is capable of indefi- nite enlargement. The more enlarged, the happier will be our state in heaven, and it may be our lot to grow in knowledge for ever. Such are our ideas of that far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory promised believers in the coming world. The base suggestion, that as the female is confined at home she needs no intellectual improvement, has long since been repelled. She may pass through life alone ; shall she become the prey of the first villain that may wish to rob her of her rights \ And if united to a husband, is it not most desirable that she be capable of I his help-meet 1 The laws of many of our states, have wisely directed that the daughter share equally with her brother in the estate of the father ; and shall she not be capable of managing her own interest 1 .Mothers who have not had the advantages which their daughters now have for improvement, will join me in these remarks, and will 212 THE WISE BUILDER. urge their daughters to husband well their opportunities, and take a high and dignified station in the grade of being. But I proceed II. To show that a wise woman buildeth her house. The lan- guage is figurative, the house being expressive of the family. Hence, to build her house, is to promote the best good of her hus band and her offspring. It would be very easy to show, in a vari ety of particulars, how the influence of a wise woman must sub- serve this object. We are not afraid to inquire, in the 1 Place — How such a woman will affect their estate. On this subject I remark she will not render them poor. Her refined feel- ings, and ardent piety, may expend something in charity. But this will not diminish their wealth, for " The liberal soul shall be made fat." If she should perform less manual labor than some others, her prudence and economy will make amends, and more than amends for the loss sustained. Her wisdom will save more than her hands could earn. Not always does the woman who can perform the most labor increase most her husband's estate. Some have labored for ever and yet have made their families poor because ignorant of domestic economy. Hard labor is sometimes asso- ciated with wasteful extravagance. A wise woman will not waste her husband's estate in extravagant dress and ornaments. These are more generally the marks of a small mind, and a bad taste. Those who are first in the fashion are sometimes last at the library, and perhaps are never there. But if her books and her charities should draw upon her hus- band's estate, still such a sister, such a wife, such a mother, is an invaluable blessing. " A man's life consisteth not in the abundance of the things which he possesseth." Of what value are riches but to buy comforts. And why not spend some of our wealth to feed the mind^. But I have hinted, that it is not by mere dint of labor that the wife performs her part in the accumulation of estate. Possessed of an improved mind, there are a variety of ways in which she can advance the interests of her family. She can help her husband lay his plans, can teach his children, can draw him back from liti- gation, can guide his concerns in his absence, expend to advantage the fruits of his industry — and, in ways innumerable, increase their mutual interest, accommodation, and comfort. 2. She will render her family respectable. This is the meaning of that remark of the wise man, when, speaking of the virtuous voman, he says, " Her husband is known in the gates, when he THE WISE BUILDER. 213 sitteth among the eiders of the land." He will imbibe from her good impressions of cbaracter, and may rise, through her unnoticed influence, to a commanding respectability. How often are child- ren regarded with attention on account of their mother. This alone has often introduced them to the best of families. How it honored Timothy that his mother and grandmother could be so respectably mentioned ! And how it reproaches Ahaziah when said, that " His mother was his counsellor to do wickedly." It is probably true that the mother does more to give her house its cha- racter than the father. And not unfrequently does the wise woman entail respectability to her children's children. 3. She will render her family happy. She will so manage as not to irritate their passions, she will concentrate their wishes, and identify their interest. Her frown will suppress every quarrel, or rather her wisdom will prevent the evil. Her example will breathe through the house a mild and soft atmosphere, that will soothe every passion. While her wisdom will enlighten them ; her indus- try will make them love employ ; her subordination to her hus- band, wiL subject them to her authority ; her prudence will render them discreet, her sympathy will render them compassionate, and her active benevolence teach them charity. Her softness will sweeten their manners, her gentleness render them mild, her cour- tesy render them respectful, her ingenuousness render them hon- est, and her discretion teach them caution. Her modesty will make them unassuming, her uprightness render them just, her ten- derness make them affectionate ; and we cannot but hope that her religion will render them pious. There is no resisting the combined influence of so many virtues. And what she cannot do by her precepts, and her examples, she effects by her prayers. She will often carry them in her arms to heaven, and commit them to his care who can sway the heart. This done, she will have a powerful hold upon their consciences. While they respect her and love her, they will be ashamed and afraid to offend her. She will train up their consciences to respect her laws, and her government will not be limited by her presence. I knew a case when the son was afraid to disobey the mother, even when she could never have known of the disobedience. By thus laying restraint upon the conscience a wise woman will extend her influence to unborn generations. She will generate consciences like her own, to operate when hers is released from its labors. Her mantle, as she ascends to heaven, will fall upon her children, who will live to prolong her memory and build her house. C14- THE WISE BU1LDEK. And while the wise woman will thus bless her own family, she will extend a happy influence to others. And yet all the good she does from home will recoil upon her own head. There will be a reaction that will bless her own house. Her kindness, her hospi- tality, her sympathy, her alms, and her prayers, will return into her own bosom. While she scatters blessings, they will accumu- late at home. While she prays for others, many prayers will be offered for her and her family. While she feeds the poor, poverty will desert her doors. While she sends the gospel to the heathen, her own children will begin to live : thus " she that tarries at home will divide the spoil." She generates a light to shine into distant lands, and the reflected beams illumine her own habitation. And when she is dead, generations unborn will read upon her tomb, " The memory of the just is blessed." REFLECTIONS. 1. Females see how they are to rise in the scale of being. Their state has always been a state of subordination, and, in some coun- tries, incredibly servile. The gospel emancipates them. But even in gospel lands they have never risen so high as they may. And they must rise by increasing in wisdom. When the sun would break the bars of winter he does it by a mild and gentle influence. He does not summon all his fires, and storm the castle of winter with lightnings. He merely shines, and the habitations of ice and frost feel and are melted by his beams. So the female sex must soften the roughness and thaw the coldness of the other sex, by constant and lucid exhibitions of wisdom and goodness. Men can- not be scolded into compassion, nor can resist the melting influ- ence of distinguished and gentle goodness. Si. You see the importance of supporting good schools. If your daughters are to become wise, and help you build your house, there must be a nursery provided where they may grow. They must have able teachers, and leisure for the acquisition of science. On this important subject the public pulse still beats too low. We cannot rear a wise generation without expense, care, and time. 3. We see the importance of the gospel. In its absence there would be nothing left that the wise and good could value. And females, although they have no vote in society, have always ex- erted a kind influence in its support. But for them, many a dis- trict in Zion had been laid waste. And they, in the mean time, promote their own mercies ; for the moment the gospel abandons* a people ieiuales lose, in a great degree, their influence, their re THE WISE BUILDER. 215 spectability, and their comfort: while, under its benign influence, they are wise, respectable, and happy. Hence all heathen lands, and other countries in proportion to their ignorance of the gospel, are marked with the degradation of the female sex. 4. How important that females make the Scriptures their study. This is the book that must form their characters, and render them wise and good. This, friends, is your guide to honor, happiness, and heaven. Make it the man of your counsel, the constant com- panion of your solitude, the furniture of your nursery, the subject of your morning and evening study ; and it will prove the nurse of your childhood, the monitor of your youth, the light of your feet, and the lamp of your way; till at length, matured in its doc- trines, and habituated to its duties, it will be your stay in death, and your law in heaven. 5. But, in order to all this, you must be born again. No woman can be wise and not pious. If you die unsanctifled, you will feel yourself to be a fool at the last, though possessed of every other native and acquired excellence. The wife can be the means of rendering her husband happy or wretched, now and for ever. To make him happy, let the conjugal affection be strong and tender. Let your bosom friend discover in you a cheerful and unwearied attention to his wants, a charity that can hide his faults, a patience that can endure his roughness, a meekness that can soothe his passions, and a piety that can la- ment his sins. Let him know that you have neither interest nor character distinct from his; that your hopes are one, your joys one, your tears one, and your cares one. Then you touch every tender string of his heart ; he becomes kind to you and attentive to the gospel. And you may be the means of bringing him to heaven. It is a rare case, when the husband is in no degree under the influence of his partner. Let that influence then be used in rendering him holy and happy. Then, when the conjugal tie is sundered, you may hope to rise together, and be kindred spirits for ever, and feel a warmer and still warmer attachment through all the years of heaven. If you are passing through life alone ; or, if death has severed the cords that bound a husband's heart to yours, and no beloved children engross your cares, then is there a miserable world that needs your blessing. You can be peculiarly useful in making a little verdant spot around you, by using the means of grace on all about you, and urging upon them the considerations of life and glory, and in spreading abroad the knowledge of God. You can 216 THE WISE BUILDER. exert an influence which shall wake the energies of a sleeping gen- eration. You can rouse to benevolent exertion, and concentrate the streams of charity, that flow to fertilize the wastes of a ruined world. But the duty of mothers, is, if possible, still greater. Immortal beings are committed to your care, perhaps to be saved or lost by your influence. They already feel the effects of your example, and will probably feel them more and more for ever. From you, rather than the father, or any other being on earth, they will take their character. You can render them idle, ungovernable, selfish, and malevolent. You can teach them to be covetous, proud, en- vious, censorious, unkind, and inhospitable. You can form them to a character hated of men, and detested of angels and of God. Oh! none like you can qualify them for everlasting burnings. Or you can teach them industry, subordination, and benevolence; can make them generous, modest, prudent, kind, and hospitable : can* with the promised blessing, form them to a character approved of men, and lovely to angels and to God. Oh ! none like you can qualify them to live in heaven. God has given you that influence, that authority, that affection and access, which places your off- spring at your disposal. To whom will they listen, when they will not hear the voice of a mother 1 When her government is despis- ed, who shall control them ? Who shall love them sufficiently to teach them, when maternal affection cools] Who shall find access to their consciences and their hearts, when barred against the ap- proach of a mother 1 Mother ! the name is very sweet. In all the majesty of maternal love, she can sit down by the heart and conscience of her child, and shape, and mould, and temper it al- most to her pleasure. The world can be excluded, and every pas- sion hushed to calmness, by her maternal sweetness and authority; while in the midst of the calm, she can teach them divine wisdom, fire them with benevolent affections, and give their minds a high and heavenly aspect. How pleasant, when the mother may teach her own child. If common bent volence can make it pleasant to teach (mother's chil- dren, how delightful the work, when there is joined to this bene- volence the strong, instinctive, maternal affection. Who, if the mother will not, shall teach the child to pray, and lead it on in the way to heaven. May she depend on a stranger, who lacks the in- stinctive stimulus? We must, not forget that our dear children are depraved, and will choose the way to death ; are in a world full THE wrSE BUILDER. 217 of temptations, and must inevitably perish if permitted to pursue their own course. Mothers, it may be, that your children are fatherless, and are committed to your exclusive care. To you it is left, to stamp the last impress of character, and, by your example and influence, fix the destiny of your husband's children. A voice, while I address you, issues from their graves, urging me to my duty, and you to yours. What would be their language, if your deceased husbands could appear in this assembly. Would they not with all the elo- quence, which death, and the grave, and heaven, and hell can in- spire, say to the mothers of their children, " Oh, teach my offspring the way to heaven ! Keep them from the paths of the destroyer. My voice cannot reach them ; you must do for them what I neg- lected. Farewell, we shall meet soon." What an overbearing eloquence would there be in an address like this ! And, while the father lives, it is especially the mother's province to form the character of her daughters. You must lead them on to character, to happiness, and heaven. They wait to have you offer them your hand, they prize your counsel, and tremble at the prospect of passing this friendless world without a mother's in- struction. Let them mingle with you, and form their characters under your eye, that they may have profit from your advice, and may find you their guardian in the hour of temptation. If years have taught you any thing of truth and duty, let that knowledge, like your estates, accumulate in its descent. Then every genera- tion would be wiser, the mother would live again in her children, and soon from one such parent, there would spring a whole church, whose holy principles and correct habits, would exhale a fragrance, that would sweeten all the surrounding moral atmosphere. I know, that in order to all this the mother must be herself a disciple of the Lord Jesus Christ. She, who traverses the broad way, cannot conduct her offspring to heaven. She may put the Bible into their hands, but her example will teach them to doubt its doctrines, and hate its duties; and one may easily presume which they will believe. And yet some of your children may be saved, and you perish. The covenant of God may bind them to a pious ancestry, and he may remember his covenant, and save them, while a parent is lost. But, as many of my hearers are youth, part of my address should be to them. Precious, beyond all computation, is the present pe- riod of your life. Your prospect is now joyful, but bye-and-bye the retrospect will place some gloomy shades in the picture. It i.* 28 218 THE WISE BUILDER. but honest to acquaint you, that you have embarked upon a deceit- ful sea. The present is calm, but soon probably your course will lead you athwart the storm. There are trials between you and the grave, and I name them merely to turn your attention to another object. 1 would point you to a world where there are no trials; and, if you would ever be an inhabitant of that world, you must now direct your eye upward. There is a day of grace, and you now enjoy that day, but there follows it a moment, when God abandons the gospel abuser forever ; and he does not always destroy as soon as he abandons. " They are joined to their idols, let them akme." The most important period of the season ot grace, is its vernal years. This period improved, you are saved; but, misimproved, your state is worse. And some of you are already crossing that line, beyond which your salvation, if yet unregenerate, will be less probable. How dreadful to go down into the vale of years without a Savior, a promise, or a hope of everlasting life. A dark cloud will then eclipse your sun, a cloud, in which there will be painted no arch of promise. Then stupidity will increase upon you, while every sermon, and every Sabbath will but mature your character for the judgment. Gray hairs will but testify to your revolving years, and perhaps neglect of means, to your increased stupidity ; till finally, the tempter may assure you that your day of orace is over. Oh, reach not that gloomy period till an ever lasting covenant unites you to a Redeemer. If already you love the Lord Jesus Christ, there opens before you a vast field of usefulness. The dying and the dead are al. around you. I will not suppose it possible, that you can be want- ing in respect and attention to your aged parents. You will make it, I hope, a prime concern, to aid them on to heaven. If you see your associates verging on to ruin, you will warn them, and pray for them, and by your example and influence endeavor to bring them with you to heaven. You are to exert a mighty influence upon the rising generation. The other sex will receive a bias from your example, and, aiming to be what you approve, will owe much of their character to your sentiments and influence. If you make it your own object to be holy, and to reach heaven, they will accompany you. It will be your duty, and I hope your pleasure, to aid all the ope- rations of benevolence, especially the propagation of gospel light. This is a work in which your sex have a special interest. You owe your freedom, your influence, and all your comforts to the THE WISE BUILDER. 219 gospel. Advance a single furlong beyond its light, nnd you and the female sex in a state of perpetual servitude, treated like beasts of burden, and secluded from all the joys of civil and social life. Could they but know the blessings that fall to your lot, and the reason why they are so oppressed and miserable, they would raise a cry for the gospel loud and eloquent as the shrieks of death. They would not rest till they could place in the hands of their oppress- ors, that volume, which is the charter of your liberties. Then they, too, would be free, respected, and happy. These facts have helped to wake the daughters of Zion to their duty, and I trust will keep them awake, till the light of revelation has shined into every dark place of the earth, and the principles it generates have rescued every daughter of the apostacy from her prison and her chains. I have no fears that you will not act your part in this humane and Christian enterprise. Females have succored the ministers of the Lord Jesus Christ. The Savior himself testified to their kindness, and, as we all re- member, found beloved friends in the sisters of Lazarus, and a very pleasant home in their house. And after him the apostles, and af- ter them all who have proclaimed the gospel, have lived upon their charities, and been supported by their sympathies and their prayers. All this is said without design to flatter. I should be unworthy the office of a minister, if any such motives could move me. May tbat gospel, which you thus support in your kindness to its minis- try, be the means of your salvation ! May none of you abuse its blessings, and thus fail of the glory it reveals! And, when the Son of Man shall come the second time, without sin unto salva- tion, may you be among the first to shout, "This is the Lord, we have waited for him, and he will save us: this is the Lord, we have waited for him : we will be glad and rejoice in his salvation." SERMON XVII. THE CONTROVERSY SETTLED 2 cor. v. 20. Be yc reconciled lo God. To the whole human family it is an eternal disgrace that such a sentence should be found written in the book of God. A creature unreconciled to God ! Living, too, upon his bounty, subject to his control, completely in his hands, and exposed to his wrath ! Does there live a man who cannot be pleased with infinite beauty, with perfect rectitude ; who is at variance with the God of hea- ven. How has it come to pass that a creature of God has made himself so base 1 Was he born thus depraved, or has he, since his birth, transformed his soul into the image of hell 1 Alas ! my readers, we are constantly reminded of that sad hour when the tempter prevailed, and our first parents fell. That was a horridly guilty hour. Not only did they ruin themselves, but all their race. They were destined to the curse of begetting children in their own likeness, not guilty of their sins, but like them inclined to iniquity, exposed to temptation and ruin. There is now born a wretched race, who as soon as they breathe, rebel. Why 1 they can offer no reason. Infinite excellence is found in God, is seen in his law, and exhibited in his providence. And is there through- out our province a general revolt 1 Are there none who have not become rebels? As God is true, there are none. A precious few have become reconciled to him, and are now approximating toward a state of purity, and joy, and blessedness. But even yet we can can cast our eye abroad, and see our world filled with rebels. What will be the issue, God knows, and he has told us. Those that are not reconciled to him must die ; those that are, shall re- ceive the smiles of God for ever. The infinite God has himself contrived a way to pardon the rebel, and yet secure his own honor. In pursuing this subject, / shall shore that sinners are in a state of hostility with Goo1, while he is kindly disposal toward them. I shall then inquire whether there be aay just anise for these hostile feelings toward God, I shall then state the terms on which the sinner can be THE CONTROVERSY SETTLED. 22 i reconciled, and offer some motives why the reconciliation should take place. I. I am to show that sinners are in that state of hostility with God, while he is kindly and graciously disposed toward them. In proving these points I shall make my appeal to Scripture and fact. The hostile disposition of sinners toward God is one of the most conspicuous doctrines of the Bible. " The carnal mind is enmity against God." Sinners rob God and fight against him, and say to him, " Depart from us ; we desire not the knowledge of thy ways." " The rulers take counsel together against the Lord, and against his anointed, and exert themselves to break their bands asunder, and cast away their cords from them." In the survey which God took of earth, he found that all had " gone out of the way, and had become filthy; there were none that did good, no, not one." All this looks like general and open revolt. It is im- possible to give these texts, and much more of the same book, such an interpretation that they shall not teach us the doctrine that sinners are hostile to God. Let us now make our appeal to facts. As men show how they feel toward each other by the manner in which they treat every person and thing that relates to the other, so impenitent men show how they feel toward God by the manner in which they treat those persons and things that relate to God. Let our first inquiry then be, How have sinners treated the Son of God1? He ventured to come down, and put himself in the power of man. And was ever another man so cruelly treated \ The world united in praying him to depart out of their coasts. They rose against him, as if he had been an assassin or a robber. They glutted their revenge with his blood. They could not rest till they had nailed him to a tree. And yet their consciences pro- nounced him innocent. If any suppose that Christ would not now be treated so, were he on earth, it is no doubt their unhappiness to make one of three grand mistakes. They either suppose that Christ is now better treated than he was in the days of his flesh, Avhich is not true; or they suppose that human nature is not now so depraved as then, which is false ; or they have brought themselves to believe that a more improved state of civilization has tamed the ferocity of the carnal mind. Now, how can we account for it, that Christ should be treated so unkindly by men, except by admitting the principle that sinners 222 THE CONTROVERSY SETTLED. are in a state of hostility with God, and hence as Christ was tne image of the invisible God, they made him the object of their scorn and hatred. In treating him thus, they showed how the} felt toward God. Let us now inquire, how sinners treat the people of God. Au- thentic history informs us that in every age since there was a Christian on earth, they have been subjected to ill-treatment. In apostolic days they began to be the song of the drunkard, and the jest and proverb of the world. Then, and ever since, when hu- man law did not impose restraint, they were persecuted to death. Upon them have fallen the united curses of an ungodly world. When wicked men can meet in no other point, they can be one in destroying the Christians. They consider them as the common enemy. Hence thousands of holy souls have gone to glory from wrecks and dungeons. And what better are things in the present day 1 True, there is less blood spilt, but no less anger felt, and no less pains taken to cover them with infamy, and expose them to scorn when they "live godly in Christ Jesus." Does not every day bring us fresh testimony of the hatred of the wicked against the saints. If not, what do they mean by the common cry of hypocrite! Why do they take so much pains to try to prove that Christians are the worst men on earth. Why do they love to hear that they have fallen ] Why pleased when they tarnish their character, and wound the cause of their Redeemer \ Facts like these prove that sinners hate the Christians. And why is this, unless because they bear the image of God, and for his sake are hated. At any rate they do bear the divine image, and the world hates them, which unquestionably proves them to be in a state of hostility against God ; for if they hate his image they hate him. This hostility to God has often been clearly seen in a time of revival. Then God increases the number of his children, and en- rages his foes. True, they are sometimes overawed, and when this is not the case, they storm with rage. They have exhibited evident signs of distress as the divine shower approached. All the means and instruments by which a revival was introduced or promoted felt their malice. Indeed the world has gone out in one united phalanx to make head against the work of God. They have dreaded and opposed a revival as they would a famine or a plague. Now, why all this 1 Do they not hate a revival because it brine's into view the God they hate, and reminds them of that hea- THE CONTROVERSY SETTLED 223 ven in which they could not live. Again, then, do we see that they are in a state of hostility with God. The same hostility is proved while sinners daily break the laws and oppose the government of God. Daily and hourly we witness their disregard of the law, while they refuse to shape their lives by its precepts, and yet dare name the justice of God as the foun- dation of their immortal hopes. And how constant are their com- plaints against the ways of Providence. Hear their midnight murmurs, and see their vexation and disappointment while any adverse event transpires, or any fond expectation is disappointed. If sinners were not hostile to God, would they not love his word and his worship 1 Would they treat with cold neglect the book- of God, the only guide to everlasting life'? And would they, as often appears, be indifferent to the praises and the prayers of the temple. Would they utterly refuse, as they do, to elect God as their master, or enlist in his service. Undoubtedly they would not try to prevent others from serving him, were they not hostile to his glory. The maxims which sinners adopt, prove the existence of a hos- tile temper. "Thou shalt love thy neighbor, and hate thine ene- my." Said Christ, " Love your enemies." "An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth." Said Christ, "Resist not evil." "Give me wealth first, and then religion." Said Christ, " Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness." In every controversy let the offender ask for reconciliation, but in the controversy be- tween God and sinners they are in fault, yet God prays them to be reconciled. It is more blessed to receive than to give, is practi- cally the maxim of the world, but, said Christ, "It is more blessed to 'rive than to receive." Thus sinners are all wrong. In all their maxims they make evident opposition to what is the mind and will of God. Now, could there be found this long list of oppo- sites, were not sinners in a state of hostility to God \ And yet God is kindly disposed toward them. This appears in all he says, and in all he does. It appears in his word. He there declares that he feels kindly toward sinners, and he there asks them, in the language of real compassion, " Why will ye die V We learn the same while we see the forbearance of God toward sinners. Not until they have sinned many years is he so provoked with them as to put them in hell. He not only lets them live in his world, but offers them mercy, and repeats his in- vitations, and presses t'hem to accept, assuring them that they shall have eternal life, if they will repent and believe. All this 224 THE CONTROVERSY SETTLED. makes it certain that God feels kindly toward sinners, while their feelings are so hostile. Let us then inquire, II. Whether there be any just cause for these hostile feelings toward God. They seem to say that God has done something wrong. To the sinner, then, we must appeal, What has God done to offend 1 His first interference with your concerns was in the act of your creation. Was it here that he offended 1 True, he did not con- sult you whether you would be or not, uor ask you what kind of a creature you would choose to be. It was his opinion that you had no right to be consulted in these matters. Do you complain that God made you capable of misery 1 Instead of this it should be your rejoicing that he made you capable of happiness: especially since he has put immortal blessedness within \o\w reach, and so constituted things that misery will not be yours unless you choose death rather than life. Do you complain that you were not made angels 1 Instead of this, you ought to be thankful that you were not made serpents or worms. But, " shall the thing formed say unto him that formed it, why hast thou made me thus." "Hath not the potter power over the clay, of the same lump to make one vessel to honor and another to dishonor." In the act of creating, God has not injured you, and where no injury is done there can be no complaint. Ever since that period he has watched over you, and provided for you : in all this has he erred 1 For parental tenderness which watched your infant and youthful days, you are indebted to God. He gave the instinct which originated a father's care and a moth- er's tear. He formed those powers, those limbs and eyes, by which you have defended yourself. Besides all this, there has perhaps been around you unobserved a guard of angels. " What ills their heavenly care prevents, No earthly tongue can tell.**— 5 In addition to all this, God has kept his own eye fixed upon you, and has protected you with his own arm. But for this care death awaited you every step of your way. Every particle of air which you have breathed, was pregnant with death till he made it pure He had his eye on you in all your slumbers, and at his bidding the midnight pestilence fled, and the breeze brought life and health. Perhaps when tossed upon the ocean the waves knew his voice and were si ill THE CONTROVERSY SETTLED. 225 He gave you your birth in a goodly land ; furnished you kind friends to smooth your rugged way through life, and gave you every other needed comfort. " He opened his hand, and your wants were all supplied. His goodness has been like a river by your side. He watered your fields and brought on your harvests. He kept off the frosts, and ripened your fruits, he kept off his storm and secured your merchandise. He sent the gale that waft- ed India's xiches to your coast. In all this did God offend 1 He gave you the means of instruction, that you might be wise Was this unkind X He early put you under law : was this unkind 1 True, the law has dreadful penalties, and must not once be broken. It curses " every one that continueth not in all the things written in the book of the law to do them." Whether it was kind or not in God to put you under such a law will depend on whether the law was good. This is its tenor, " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and thy neighbor as thyself." If God deserves su- preme affection, and our neighbor's happiness is worth as much as our own, this is a good law. To give creatures such a law was simply telling them to be happy. It was not only right that God should demand supreme regard, but best for creatures that they should thus regard him. And in that strong mutual affection which the law demands, men have found rich ingredients of com- fort. In demanding that the law should in no one instance be bro ken, God prepared the way to keep misery from his creation. It is only by disobeying this law that men are rendered miser- able. But for this we had never heard the groans of the dying, the sighs of the widow, or the plaints of the orphan. Then the mourning garb had never darkened our assemblies. Man had not learned to weep, unless it were tears of gratitude. And we may say the same of other worlds. Heaven continues to obey the law of God and is happy. Hell has disobeyed and continues to disobey, and is consequently filled with groans of despair. And how many soever other worlds there may be, they too are happy or miserable according as they have obeyed or disobeyed the law of God. If, then, the law is good, and dis- obeying it has made us unhappy, what charge can we bring against God for giving us such a law 1 The law was intended as a great bond that should bind intelligent creatures to God, and 10 one another. This bond, this silver cord sinners have broken, and so have stopped the communication of bliss to their souls. But my readers, let this be the closing remark on this point 29 '2Q6 THE CONTROVERSY SETTLED. The law which God has given is the only one which he could have 'riven. It is the copy of his heart. He must have been a different being, and his creatures must have sustained different re- lations to him and to one another before a different law could have been given. If, then, sinners have any charge to bring against God on account of the law, the charge is unreasonable ; they cen- sure him for doing what it was impossible he should not do. Is there, then, any fault here 1 But God has made exertions to save sinners, is there here any cause for blame 1 Has he not made the terms of salvation as easy as possible 1 Is man, while he receives pardon, subjected to any unnecessary degradation or reproach 1 Is any penance de- manded very difficult to perform 1 Does faith in Jesus Christ for- bid tlie exercise of reason 1 And is the love of God inconsistent with the exercise of the natural instincts and affections 1 Or does religion so employ the powers of the man as to make him unhap- py \ Is not salvation offered on conditions the best possible. Then, where is the offence 1 In pressing such a salvation upon the sinner, is not the Deity kind 1 In varying and repeating the invitation, and calling upon sinners by the ministers of the gospel, by alarming events of pro- vidence, by the Holy Spirit, and by an awakened conscience, to turn and live, — while God thus stands, and pleads with a guilty world from year to year, and from age to age, what is there in all liiis hut kindness 1 Would any be glad, — sinners, would it please you, could you be left undisturbed by these kind invitations of the God of mercy ? Would you wish to go on till your destiny was sealed before the gospel trump disturbs you \ Do any find fault with God because he chastises them 1 Do I hear one say, God has torn my partner from my bleeding bosom, and my children, just as they began to entwine my heart \ He nit the winds to sink my merchandise, and the incendiary to burn my dwelling. How can I love such a God 1 Did you ever thank God for those blessings 1 Did you ever pray for their con- tinuance 1 Did you teach that child to pray whom you lately covered with the clods 1 God has, then, only reminded you of your sins in removing these comforts. Moreover, they were at first his gift, or rather, his loan ; and he has now recalled them, no sooner than you had reason to ex- pect. He never promised you that you should retain these com- forts to any given period. Where, then, is there any ground of THE CONTROVERSY SETTLED 221 charge against God 1 He bus done more than lie promised ; lie has been kinder than you had any reason to expect Where, then, is there cause of offence ? But, says one, God has threatened sinners with everlasting ruin, and has built a hell for them: can I love such a God! Hell he built for the devil and his angels, and he will send none of our race there who would be willing to live in heaven. All who pos- sess such a temper as would convert heaven into a place of horror and despair, and who are more fit to be the companions of devils than of angels and blessed saints, — only these will be sent to hell. And in the sentence every holy being will join, and the sinner's own mouth will then be shut. Why, then, is there here any ground of charge against God ? Thus, through all that God has done and said, do we search in vain for any plea that can support the sinner in his revolt. Perhaps in what he is a plea can be found. " There clusters in his name every attribute that can contribute to render him great and glori- ous. The clustering of these attributes is God." What attribute, then, can be spared from the cluster 1 Let him cease to be holy, and what will follow ? Sin, that has made every tear, every sigh, and every groan, will be approved, and the prince of devils may walk arm in arm with Gabriel. An infuriate mob from hell wil. soon lay waste the mansions of the New Jerusalem. Or let Jehovah cease to be true, then, says the sinner, he would not execute his threatenings. No ; nor his promises ! That blessed promise, " I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee," on which many a trembling believer has hung his dying hope, fails. Every angel lays by his harp and looks out for ruin. The holy arc no longer sure that they shall be happy. The foundation on which they stood has begun to sink, hell is astonished, and the universe is ruined. Shall Jehovah be no longer just 1 Where then is the sinner that will consent to be treated unjustly ! Devils would not consent to this. The same may be said of every Divine attribute. Alter any one, and the universe is all in tears. No one dares to live or die Is it not best then that God continue capable of government, and remain just what he is ! Thus do we find at every step we take that there is no fault in God. No possible plea can be found to support the sinner in his rebellion. God is right, has .spoken and done right, but the sinner is wrong, has spoke/) wrong, ami dmm '•rong. I hope, then, the way is prepared for reconciliation. But, 228 THE CONTROVERSY SETTLED. III. I a.ii now to state the terms on which God will receive the sinner to favor. The sinner must disapprove of his own character and conduct. Till he does this, God will consider him in a state of hostility The sinner must become vile in his own eyes and polluted in his own view. He must see and hate his own evil passions, and all their corrupt fruits, and must join with God in condemning him- self as a rebel deserving eternal ruin. When brought to feel thus he will be humble. He will take to himself the punishment of his sins, and ascribe righteousness to his Maker. In this condition God will begin to regard him. But this is not all that God will require. The sinner must change his character and conduct. He must have a different set of affections, and must exhibit a course of con- duct altogether diverse from that exhibited in his former life. This will be saying to the world, that he now approves of the law which he broke, considers it good, and the penalty just. The only terms on which God will ever receive the sinner to favor must include the following : 1. He must unsay all the hard things he has said against God : the reproaches he has cast upon his law, the unholy things he has said against his people, and against his government, and his king- dom. All the hard speeches that ungodly sinners have made against heaven, and all their trifling about hell, and the judgment, and the quenchless fire, and the never-dying worm, and the bot- tomless pit, and the bridgeless gulf. All the contradictions of his truth, and all the gainsayings of the infidel heart — all this must be unsaid, must be taken back. This is an indispensable preliminary in the first effort at peace. Else there can be no reconciliation. This is a law among men. If men are at variance they always begin conciliation with concession, and it must be thus when we deal with God. 2. When we have unsaid, we must undo the unhallowed things that we have done against the kingdom of God, and restore that which we have taken away. If any are not aware of having done any thing which they would undo, there is reason to believe that they have not made the first essay at a genuine repentance. Soon as the heart relents we can easily find that there are a great many things that we have done that must be undone. There are immor- tal beings, bound to the judgment, and whose eternity of bliss n» of wo unutterable depends on their character, and that charactei we have given, first or last, a polluting touch. These pollutions THE CONTROVERSY SETTLED. 22S we must endeavor to wipe off". And there are others that we have injured — these injuries we must repair. We shall find, on a little reflection, that we have, in a thousand ways, set in operation main- engines of death, which, with a little timely care, we can stop, and we must stop them. All this is necessary to the first beginnings of the exercise of a genuine repentance. 3. And when we have unsaid and undone all that we can re- member to have said and done against God and his kingdom, we shall find that we have entered a field of mischief where we had been so many years putting things wrong, and the mischief has become so wide-spread and desolating, that it will require a whole lifetime to put them right again. What was said of the apostles fahehj, that they turned the world upside down, the penitent finds true in his own case. He has been scattering fire-brands, arrows, and death, while he pretended to be only in sport. 4. Wherein the mischief cannot be undone it can all be ingenu- ously confessed. If we confess our sins, God is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. Thus we come upon the subject of a gratuitous pardon, our only nope of our acceptance with a gracious and merciful God. Here oegins peace, and hope, and joy, through a pardoning and gracious Redeemer. Through his kind and timely intercessions the sin- ner's whole debt is freely forgiven, and God is reconciled. In addition, this humiliation and its correspondent fruits, the sinner, in order to pardon, must be willing to receive mercy. A sinner does not deserve pardon : the supposition is absurd. He must be willing to be pardoned for the sake of Christ, and, after being pardoned, must be willing to be an everlasting monument of a Savior's love. He must entirely commit his cause to Christ, as his advocate, depending on him for every good which he hopes for from a justly offended God. These are the terms. 1 am happy to have it in my power to add that Christ is ready to be the sinner's friend. He even be- seeches you to allow him to plead your cause, and ensure your acceptance with his Father. Let this now be the question. Will sinners quit their rebellion and turn to God that they may live 1 Will they do it now ? When God offers a sinner pardon there must be immediate acceptance, or he takes the offer back. The impenitent cannot leave the place where they are, before it will be reported in heaven that they have accepted or rejected the message. Thus God deals with us, and 230 THE CONTROVERSY SETTLED. thus must we deal with him. He will not allow sinners to despise his mercy with impunity. Perhaps some are thinking about a reconciliation, but wish to know the terms. We have no new terms to propose. You will find the terms in all your Bibles, and be assured God will never alter them ; no, never. He will sooner abandon his throne, and consign sun, moon, and stars to ruin. No j the terms are the easiest, they are the best that a holy God could propose. Do any plead that their sins are so numerous and so aggravated that God will not accept them 1 This plea need not be made. There is an infinite Savior, and there is infinite compassion in the heart of God. And there is one promise which throws the light of day on this subject. " Though your sins be as scarlet they shall be as white as snow, though they be red like crimson they shall be as wool." IV. Let us notice some of the motives to a speedy reconciliation. 1. Sinners should become reconciled to God because he is the only being who can be the sinner's permanent friend. None but he can comfort you in adversity, raise your hopes in the day of gloom, or soften your dying bed. None but he can cheer your disembodied spirit, and inspire it with a relish for the angelic song. Indeed, be it a calamity or not, so it is that God has made no ob- ject fit to be your portion. He must himself fill the soul or you are for ever poor. 2. Though God has not given the offence he makes the first overtures of reconciliation. This is wonderful condescension in God. He has no need of you, he can make his kingdom happy without you, and there is no obligation on his part why he should thus meet you with the offers of mercy. It is a matter of the tru est surprise that God will thus stand and plead with his creatures, is it not, then, a reason why they should be reconciled 1 3. Consider farther, that God has removed the obstacles that were in the way of your salvation : this should press your con- science. He gave his own dear Son to die that you might be saved, and yet he be just. And you can now be completely re- stored to the Divine favor. From being a wretched outcast you may become a son and an heir. What consideration can be more persuasive than this 1 A condemned criminal is offered all the joys of heaven on becoming reconciled to his justly-offended God. 4. If sinners do not become reconciled to God they must lie un- der the weiirht of the curse of a broken law for ever. And eter- THE CONTRO ERSY SEITLED. 23 * laity only can fully tell how heavy this curse will be. You are en- treated, then, to be reconciled to God, by all that is terrible in his anger ; by all that is dreadful in the thought of being the object of his wrath for ever; by all the misery that an immortal soul can suffer, or an almighty arm can inflict. If God can make sinners wretched, and if sin, un repented of, be of such a horrid nature that infinite goodness must be willing to punish the incorrigible for over, then, by all that is dreadful in this thought, sinners are entreated to repent. 5. I urge, as the last motive why sinners should immediately be- come reconciled to God, that it will soon be too late. There will come a day when the door of mercy will be closed for ever upon some unhappy souls. Perhaps in that day some of my readers will stand without and raise their distressing cry, " Lord, Lord, open unto us." But the door can never be unbarred. He that shutteth and no man openeth will reply, " I know you not." You will see Abraham and all the prophets in the kingdom of God, and yourselves be rejected. A father, mother, or sister enters into life, and you are lost. The very partner of your bosom takes her seat at the marriage supper, while you are not permitted to taste. Methinks there will be scenes exhibited in that day at which the very angels will weep. Will sinners, then, attend to these things, while mercy is possible 1 Sinners are every day perishing una- wares. They are every Sabbath hearing their last sermon. It may be that some one is now reading this who has misimproved many a sermon, and is now uttering the closing sentences of the last one that will ever disturb his quiet. He has, perhaps, so near- ly filled up his measure of iniquity, that only a few drops are wanting. The opposition which he may feel to this sermon, and the resistance he may make to the strivings of the Spirit may run his measure over, and bring the curse of his Maker upon him. It is impossible to say when God will shut up his bowels of compas- sion with regard to any sinner. Though he bear long he will not bear with them always. He is holy and true as well as good. The day must come when his threatenings will be fulfilled as well as his promises. And to sinners who refuse to desert the standard of revolt, that will be a tremendous day. But, since they will not be persuaded, they must go on and provoke Divine goodness till the curse lights upon their heads. I add no more : I hope I am free from the blood of my hearers to-day. It will be found in their own skirts SERMON XVIII. THE BURNING BUSH. EXODUS III. 3. And Moses said, I will now turn aside, and see this great sight, why the bush is i,ot burned Moses was keeping the flocks of his father-in-law in Midian ; and having occasion to drive them to the desert, to the borders of mount Horeb, the angel of the Lord appeared to him in a flame of fire in a bush. He perceived, that though the bush burned with fire it was not consumed. " And Moses said, I will now turn aside, and see this great sight, why the bush is not burned." He expect- ed, no doubt, to see the bush consumed ; but while he looked upon it, and perceived that every branch and every leaf remained entire amid the flames, it naturally awakened his amazement, and led him to turn aside and view the wonder with attention. As he approach- ed the bush, a voice issued from the midst of the flames, which bid him pull his shoes from his feet, as the ground on which he trod was holy. God now assured him that he was the God of his fa- thers, and gave him his commission to go and redeem his brethren from bondage. The burning bush, with God in the midst of it, uninjured by the flames, represented the Church, living undimin- ished in the midst of afflictions and persecutions. Probably Moses had suspected that the rigors of the Egyptian persecution would ultimately annihilate the Church. To remove this gloomy appre- hension, and encourage him to accept a commission for their eman- cipation, he was favored with this vision. In using this scrap of history for our present edification, it is my purpose to make seve- ral distinct observations. I. The Church of Christ has always been exposed to nfllictions and persecutions, has often seemed in imminent danger, but has lived unhurt through every period of its long and bloody conflict. There has been a Church ever since the conversion of Abel. During the period from the fall to the deluge it was very feeble, and very small, mid often persecuted. In the death of Abel was fulfilled the pre- diction, " It shall bruise thy heel." Mention is made but of two or three eminent saints during this period, of which Enoch was THE BURNING BUSH. ' 233 one of the most distinguished. God so loved him that he took him to heaven without seeing death. He was a prophet, and plain- ly predicted the terrors of the deluge and of the last judgment. There seems to have been, during this period, several times of re- vival, but during the whole the Church must have been compara- tively small. Finally it was confined to the family of Noah, and seemed about to become extinct. It was now surrounded by a host of enemies, and must have perished, without some extraor- dinary divine interposition of its chief Shepherd. Jehovah granted his people the help they needed, and swept the whole of that un- godly world to perdition. The wondrous means by which he res- cued his people from the general ruin, must have taught, it would seem, all future generations, that destruction awaits the enemies of the Church. We are amazed that Noah could live and be a preacher of righteousness one hundred and twenty years, when the Church was so small, and when the earth was filled with violence, and the Spirit of God striving with them during all that period in vain. But the covenant promise of God preserved his people un- hurt, like the bush which was embosomed in the flame but not consumed. In the family of Noah God continued to have a seed to serve him. But the Church was soon brought very low, and at the time of the calling of Abraham was almost extinct. We see, during this period, the strong features of depravity ; and although the history of the Church is scanty and general, there can be no doubt but that it had to struggle with afflictions and persecutions. To promote the prosperity of the Church God resolved to confine it principally to one family. Accordingly, Abraham must leave his country, and become a stranger in a strange land, that his descend- ants might be preserved from idolatry, and true religion live in his family till the coming of Christ. During much of this period we find them an afflicted and persecuted people, and are often led to wonder at their preservation. How wonderful was the escape of Lot! first from captivity, and afterwards from the tempest of fire that consumed the cities of the plain. How often, and how nar- rowly, did Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, with their respective fami- lies, escape being swallowed up by idolatry, or destroj ed by their enemies. But they were a holy seed, from whom, according to the flesh, Christ should come, and among whom, till then, God would preserve his Church. Their history is a constant scene of miracles, and their very existence, like the bush that burned but was not consumed, is a living monument of God's covenant faith- fulness- When the patriarchal family had settled themselves in 30 234> the bltl.ni.ng bush. Egypt, anil Joseph was dead, and they had become Pharaoh's bond- men, their ruin seemed inevitable : especially when the Egyp- tians, jealous of their increase, and fearful of their resentment) made a decree to destroy them, we look upon them with awful ap- prehensions. But this very decree, contrary to its design, saved the Church. It became the means of raising up Moses, and of fur- nishing him a princely education, that he might become the law- giver and the prince of that injured family- From his birth till he had the vision of God in Horeb, the Jewish family were indeed like the bush that burned with fire but was not consumed. It is matter of the truest amazement that the Egyptians did not utterly destroy them, when they were so completely enslaved, and entirely within the power of their masters. Rut God had otherwise de- creed. Their enemies dealt violently, but their violent dealing came down upon their own pate. Their infamous conduct awaked the wrath of heaven, and issued in their own ruin. Still their struggle was long and desperate. Many a time there seemed but a step between the Church and destruction. On the banks of the Red Sea nothing but a miracle could save the children of the cove- nant. But the miracle was wrought, the sea divided, Israel escaped, and their enemies were all overthrown. When we read the history of their passage through the desert, the dangers they encountered, the sins they committed, the judgments they felt, and the enemies that lined their path, we wonder that they ever reached the promised land. But God was in the midst of them. Time could not wear out their garments, the rock watered them, and the clouds fed them, and the very fowls of heaven flew to their camp to become their meat. And when they entered Canaan we are amazed that a single month did not furnish them all a grave. That land was thickly peopled, the people at home, and prepared for war. That Israel should be able to inarch through that land and tread down its mighty population and ultimately possess it all, was a most surprising exploit. The history of that people, from the time of Moses to Christ, fills the reader with constant surprise. At one time they were tributary to one kingdom, then to another, and then to a third, but all the time multiplied. When they went into captivity it seemed impossible but that the Church must become extinct. But they outlived all their oppressors, and celebrated the funeral of every kingdom that ever lifted a hand to vex them. Their foes perished by a perpetual consumption, but the Church continued unhurt in the very centre of the contagion. True, the Church finally ran THE BURNING BUSH. 235 low at the time of its transfer from the family of Abraham to the Gentiles, but it never became extinct. Under the ministration of the Son of God and his apostles, the Church received again a vast and glorious accession. But it was still a bush in the midst of the flames, burning but not consumed. Christ was crucified for darino- to be her friend, and the apostles, most of them, spilt their blood at her altar. As religion spread under the new dispensation, it awakened the wrath of the enemy as it never had before. A countless army took the field for the destruction of the rising Church. Every province where there was a follower of the Lamb, cursed its soil with their blood, till finally the enemy was weary of destroying them. The fact was seen and felt, that every execution augmented the number of believers. They could slay individuals, but the Church itself was immortal. Pursuing her history, from the apostolic age to the reformation, Ave often see her on the very margin of destruction. Under Con- stantine she seemed for a moment to prosper, and yet his very touch was death. He nursed her body, but he starved her spirit, and the Church had almost perished with him. But he died, and the Church outlived the boasted immortality of his sepulchre. Under the Roman pontiffs the Church almost disappeared. They polluted her charter, put out the fire on her altars, sealed the lips of prayer, and finally seemed to dig her grave. But the Church had retired from Rome, and was living in the mountains of Pied- mont. There she breathed, and bled, and prayed, till the eventful period of the reformation. Then the Lord graciously lengthened her cords, and strengthened her stakes. But for many years her sons paid for the privilege of discipleship with their blood. Fires were kindled in every province of Christendom to consume the bush. Even England, now one of the fairest provinces of Chris- tendom, fattened her soil with the heart's blood of the saints. And when the reformation was at length established, the Church did not cease to live in the flames. Errors in doctrine and in practice, threatening the extinction of piety, have at different times overspread almost every province of Christendom. But the Church has lived, and to the present day is a standing monument of the power and the truth of God. This leads me to remark, II. It is wonderful that there should have been a Church till now, and its continuance is a living miracle. This will appear il we consider, 236 THE BURNING BUSH. 1. How small her number, and how feeble her strength compared with the hosts of her enemies. The Church of Christ is still a little flock. " Strait is the gate, and narrow is the way that lead- eth unto life, and few there be that find it." If the world should unite for the destruction of Zion, how small would she be in their hands. If our civil governments should become the enemy of the Church, how easy would it seem to destroy her. If the impeni- tent should wage war against her interests, how easily might they achieve her destruction unless God prevented. The Church has numerous, vigilant, and persevering enemies. The world, the flesh, and the devil, are leagued for her destruction. She can turn her eye in no direction but she sees an enemy. There is not a moment passes when there is not laid some plot for her destruc- tion. And although God has constantly thwarted the designs of her enemies, and saved the Church, when a host encamped against her, yet are we led to wonder at the vigilant and decisive move- ments of that unseen agent, who ever saves the Church. 2. We wonder at the existence of the church, because there is not one of her number but carries her worst enemy in his own bosom. That the church should be safe, while every individual of her number daily offends the Lord, so as to deserve destruc- tion, is that which excites surprise. The principles of apostacy and revolt are in every Christian bosom, and will be while there is a church on earth. The perseverance of the saints is a living miracle. Viewed in himself there is nothing impossible or im- probable in his final apostacy. It is rather wonderful that he should ever persevere than that he always should. If religion had no other foe than the remaining corruption in the hearts of God's people, we should wonder that ever one of them reached heaven. 3. We wonder that the church lives because of the numerous hypocrites which she carries in her own bosom. Not only does the church live in a world of enemies, but the church visible is partly composed of men that hate the Lord, and hate his kingdom. This, it is perceived, must greatly reduce her apparent strength. Might we count every professor as the friend of God, Zion would be a host compared with its real strength. But she is at present a citadel with many enemies in her own bosom. That every hypo- crite weakens the strength of the Church, there can be no question. It is their ungodly conduct that awakens reproach against religion, ;iiid arms the enemy with rage for her destruction; and they at the same time discourage the hearts of God's people, ai d prevent the Church from moving forward as a band against the enemy. THE BURNING BUSH. 237 4. The continuance of a Christian church is matter of surprise wuen we consider that if God's people act in character their sen- timents and conduct constantly enrage the world. God's people believe, and must constantly advocate, those doctrines which wicked men disrelish and oppose, and must practice those duties which administer constant reproof to men of ungodly lives. Hence our Lord declared, that he came not to send peace on earth but a sword. For, said he, " I am come to set a man at variance against his father, and the daughter against her mother, and the daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law, and a man's foes shall be they of his own household." And we have often seen this dreadful prediction exemplified. Hatred to the religion of Christ, has been seen to extinguish the strongest instinctive affections, and to create war, where before there was some degree of harmo- ny. Christ assured his followers, " They that will live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution." And every page of the Church history testifies, that the religion of the gospel is at war with the wicked passions of men. Hence how wonderful that re- ligion has not long since been extinguished, and the world been left without any salt to save it from moral putrefaction. 5. Another reason why we wonder that the Church has not lono- since become extinct is that she has always depended more or less on the world, for the support of those ordinances and institutions on which depends her own existence. No age of the Church can be named when wicked men did not contribute to feed the fires of her altars, and support her ministry. In Israel the wicked as well as the righteous helped erect the temple, and build the altar, and furnish the daily sacrifice, and support the family of Levi. They contributed largely to furnish those costly offerings which adorned the temple of Jerusalem. And through all the periods of the Jewish dispensation, wicked men were occasionally among the most active in promoting the external interests of the Church. And since the introduction of the gospel dispensation the case has not altered. There was found at least one unconverted man at the very commencement of the Christian Church, who sold his possessions, and brought a part of the price, and laid it down at the apostles' feet. And in every country where there has been a Christian Church, men have helped support her ministry, and build her sanctuaries, and supply her charities, who did not hope to share in her redemption. But, strange as it may seem, the Church has lived in these cir- 238 THE BURTsMNG BUSH. cumstances ever since its first establishment, and will live till the last of the elect are gathered in. And it seems the fires are to continue to burn till the close of the period of grace Even the millennium, which will seem to have put out the fires that flame through the branches of the bush, will not raise the Church above opposition, for at the close of that period we read that Satan shall be loosed out of his prison, and shall go out to deceive the nations which are in the four quarters of the globe, Gog and Magog, to gather them together to battle; the number of whom is as the sand of the sea. And they went out on the breadth' of the earth, and compassed the camp of the saints about and around the belov- ed city ; and fire came down from God out of heaven, and devoured them. 1 think we gather from this passage that when the millen- nium, or Sabbath of the Church is past, she will still have enemies in every part of the world who will unite their strength for her destruction. Thus the bush will still burn, but it will not be con- sumed, for God shall rain fire from heaven which will destroy her enemies. REMARKS. 1 If the Church, as a whole, is thus safe, so are all her mem- bers. The idea that the whole of a thing can be safe, and yet all its parts in danger is absurd, like that of supposing a general, without a particular providence. The bush that Moses saw re- mained entire in the midst of the flames. Not a branch nor leaf perished. If there is no security for the perseverance of individ- ual saints there may be no Church on earth before the return of another Sabbath. And yet let it not be supposed that the text af- fords any security to hypocrites ; for although they may be enroll- ed with God's people, he may still save his people and destroy them. Were the visible Church entirely composed of false pro- fessors, there would be doubt whether it would not become extinct, but there are mingled with the ungodly professors enough to en- sure the continuance of a visible Church. But I suppose the secu- rity prefigured in the text to belong only to those who are real believers, and whom God knows will finally be admitted to the joys of his kingdom. 2. How vain have been the efforts of the ungodly to destroy the Church. She has lived, and can live amid all the fires they can kindle. She has often flourished most when persecution has raged with the greatest vehemence. Hence was derived that saying, THE BURNING BUSH 239 " The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church.'"1 And it is as well for the world at large as for the Church, that their efforts are unavailing : for the saints are the salt of the earth — hence, were the Church destroyed, the world would perish too ; of course, their only safety is in their defeat If they achieve their purpose, they undo themselves. You have known men to attempt their own execution, and been prevented. Their failure was their safety. You have known youths arrested by the arm of paternal authority, when setting out in a career of ruin. Their defeat saved them The same will be the ease with the enemies of God's kingdom To whatever extent they injure the Church, they will hurt themselves. If they could destroy the Church, they would ruin the world. Every thrust they make will recoil upon their own heads. 3. How useless and ungrateful are the fears of God's people They are useless, for they achieve nothing. They are ungrateful, for God has already done enough for his Church to deserve her confidence. If he had ever seen her desolations with indifference, if one promise of his had ever failed, if the Church had ever found him her enemy in the hour of distress, there would then be ground of fear. But no such thing is true; no season of her distress has failed to move his pity; he has never turned a deaf ear to her prayers ; no one of his numerous promises has ever failed ; nor did her enemies ever find God their friend in a season of his Church's conflicts. 4. What abundant cause have God's people to rejoice in bis covenant faithfulness. There is nothing but God that Christians love so much as the Church ; and while the Church is safe, it must make them happy. In her safety every thing dear to us is safe, in her ultimate triumph we shall find our own salvation. The subject, then, is calculated to make Christians lift up their heads To not be happy when there is such abundant cause for joy, will argue disaffection to the interest we have professed to espouse, and will cast upon us the suspicion of treachery. This is a case I wish to provide against, lest in my dying behavior I dishonor him who laid down his life for me. If I am not happy when dying, impute it to derangement, unless it will the less dishonor my divine Master to conclude that I have always been in the gall of bitterness, and under the bonds of iniquity, and am now deserted of him to prove that " I am about to go to my own place." The Church has always been so safe, and with it every interest of mine, "240 THE BURNING BUSH. unless I havii interests that are distinct from Christ s interests, and then I am an unbeliever, and have no part nor lot in the matter. There can have been no failure of the everlasting covenant. God will do as he has said. And, in doing so, if he does not glorious things for me, I have only to lie down and die with shame ; and the one hundred and forty and four thousand who are about the throne of the Lamb, will say forever, " Worthy is the Lamb that was slain, to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honor, and glory, and blessing." And the whole multitude will utter their loud and long amen. SERMON XIX. THE TRUE GOD A SURE DEFENCE.— No. 1. 2 KINGS XVII. 33. They feared the Lord and served their own cods. When the king of Assyria had carried captive the ten tribes of Israel, and placed them in different parts of his empire, he brought hack other men with which to people the cities of Samaria. But as these strangers had no fear of the God of Israel, while they occupied the consecrated territory, he sent lions among them, that committed such ravages that complaint was made to the king of Assyria. He immediately gave directions to send thither one of ■.he priests that they had brought captive from that land, that he might teach them the manner of the God of the land, and thus induce him to be propitious to its new population. He came and dwelt in Bethel, and taught the people how they should fear the Lord. He was no doubt an idolatrous priest who had been accus- tomed to officiate in the idolatrous worship of the golden calf. Howbeit, every nation made gods of their own, and finally, being unable to see any wide distinction between the calf and their own favorite idol, paid very little regard to the established worship. They made priests of the lowest of the people, and offered sacri- fices in their high places. Then follows the apparently paradoxi- cal remark of the text : " They feared the Lord, and served their own gods." By their fearing the Lord we are not to understand that they had that fear of the Lord which is the beginning of wisdom, else they would not have served their own gods. The sense appears to be, that they paid some attention to the established worship of the calf, but devoted their principal zeal to the idol worship, to the worship they had imported with them into their new territory. And this is declared to have been the manner of the Israelites whom they had carried captive. They pretended, in their national religion, to pay some kind of homage to the true God, but si ill practised the worship of Baal. But that all this show of homage to Jenovah was offensive to him, there needs no argument to prove, 31 242 THE TRUE GOD A SUKE DEfENCJE. other than to state the fact that it was an idol worship which he could not accept. But the question urges itself upon us, Have we any thing in these gospel times that savors of such a spirit. We boast of our superior light, but are we not conversant with the same indifTer ence, and the same lightness that was practised by the Samaritans two thoiisand five hundred years ago 1 Let us trace the retern biance between some of the features of that age and this I. There was evidently great indifference felt as to what God was worshiped — Jehovah or any other god. Where the true God was pretended to be worshiped, under the image of a beast that had horns and hoofs, it was to be expected that he would claim nothing more of his worshipers than might be claimed by any other idol. There might be some sacredness of names, or ascription of attributes or works to the Israelitish gods that they had not been accustomed to give their idols, but the untutored Assyrian, and Mede, and Persian would not discern the difference, and would be more impressed by the form of the image, than by any ascription of abstract qualities that might be supposed in the one that was not in the other. And is there not the same indifference felt now, by very many, what God is worshiped, or what is the very same question, what attributes are ascribed to the God we adore. How numerous is the multitude that care very little whether the God they worship is so holy that he would suffer heaven and earth to pass away sooner than permit one jot or tittle of his law to fail ; or so indifferent to sin that he will save all men even without re- pentance ; — whether he is so wise as to know the end from the beginning, and will work all things after the counsel of his own will, or is so unfixed in his purpose as to never have determined whether he will save one, or ten in the whole of the human family ; — whether God is a sovereign, and will do his pleasure in the armies of heaven, and among the inhabitants of the earth, or is so weak and inefficient that he will suffer a worm to defeat his coun- sels, and a fly to frustrate his purpose ; — whether he shall have decision enough to l\x unalterably the rewards of a Savior's suffer- ings, or leave it a chance whether he shall not have squandered away his blood ; — whether he shall have a pure and holy family about him in heaven, or shall martial a band of miscreants ; — whe- ther he shall' have a Church on earth that breathes the temper of the skies, or the foetid and blasphemous fumes of the pit ; — whe- ther his word shall be all truth, or none of it truth, or apart of it j THE TRUE GOD A SURE DEFENCE. 04,3 and his people have a sure word of prophecy to rest upon, or their feet stand or sink in the quagmires that skirt the bottomless pit ; — whether he exercises over the world a government so particular as to notice the falling of a sparrow, and number the hairs of our head, or exercises so general a providence as that empires only shall deserve his notice, and our little selves, at least our few little sins, escape his inspection. How few in a whole congrega- tion of worshipers care whether he be a God that will require the hearts of his people, or will be satisfied with the soulless, spirit- less, external ceremonies ; whether he have any record kept of the sins of his creatures, and any day appointed when he will judge them, or he shall hear and bear without rebuking, the oaths and curses of a whole apostate world 1 That whole cursing and damn- ing community, that breathe moral pestilence upon every wind that blows, do you not suppose that they would prefer a God that should neither see, nor hear, nor know when insult is offered him and blasphemy uttered 1 Would he not corrupt the public faith, were it possible, till he had excluded from it a judgment, and a hell \ So the Samaritans cared not if supreme worship be offered to Succoth-benoth, or the golden calf. II. We witness in many men, who profess to be decent attend- ants upon the worship of Jehovah, a total disregard, what is the temper and conduct he will require in his worshippers ; whether they shall be heavenly minded, and lay up their treasures there where God is, or may be sordid, and grovelling in their views, and in their habits, and be the veriest ungodly, churlish souls in all the creation of God ; — whether they shall be kind, and courteous, and benevolent, or act out all the coarseness, and savageness of un- subdued nature ; — whether they shall be meek, and patient, and forgiving, or may pour forth all the wrath, and malice, and hurry, and impatience of one just broken out from the enclosures of crime, and chains, and infamy ; — whether to show mercy to the men who are sacrificing themselves upon the altars of devils, and hold them back, is kind and Christian, or whether one may live up- on the gains of iniquity, and thrive and fatten upon the damnation of souls ; — whether to bless the men of the world is a duty at all, or whether we may, with the same divine approbation, pamper their lusts and passions, and prematurely plunge them into ever- lasting fire; — there is resting extensively a doubt whether the spi- rit of he gospel is peaceful or contentious, is proud and overbear- ing ' stubborn and refractory, or yielding, and kind, and amia 'i-ii THE TRUE GOD A SURE DEFENCE. ble ; — whether men may not drink of the cup of the Lord and of the cup of devils ; may not love the world more than believtrs, and still live harmlessly within the enclosures of God's covenant ; may not please and satisfy the world more than the Church, and the enemy of souls more than God, and still maintain unbroken, and unimpaired their high claim to a seat at the supper, and a mansion in the skies. So the Samaritans cared not whether their cjods demanded virtue in their worshippers, or were equally con- tented with lust, and crime, and blood. " They feared the Lord, and served their own gods." III. There is the same indifference felt as to what doctrines con- stitute the essence of the gospel. Men presume that they are hearing the gospel when the doc- trines of the divine decrees, of election, and of divine sovereignty are reprobated, and scowled upon as the doctrines of perdition, while these doctrines are plainly found, in one shape and another, on almost every page of the Bible. They consider it the gospel if they hear vilified and abused the doctrine of the permanency of God's everlasting covenant with his people, or the divinity of Je- sus Christ, or the eternity of future torments, or they hear advo- cated the supremacy of some light within that shines above the brightness of the inspired page. In one word, the mass of un- godly men do not discriminate what truth is, nor what the gospel is, and of course, do not very much care whether they hear the true gospel or another. There is, in fact nothing that men care so little about as God, and what relates to his truth, and kingdom and glory. That gospel, which they profess to believe, they will not take the trouble to hear often. They will not keep Sabbath, nor care to be in the sanctuary, nor care to have others keep the Sabbaths, and attend upon God's worship. To speak the whole truth, religion and God are the things by which they hold the most loosely possible, and for which they will make smaller sacrifice than for anything in the whole circle of human interests. They would not give as much annually to sustain the worship of God as they would bestow in one evening on the theatre, or ex- pend at one sitting in the grog-shop, or gamble with a single game, or squander in one excursion of pleasure. They would barter away all the interests they have in God, and truth, and hea- ven, for a dinner of herbs, for a mess of pottage. We shall naturally be led now to inquire, of what avail enn a re- ligion be that takes v,P loose a hold of the heart? What did it do THE TRUE GOD A SURE DEFE.NCE. 245 for the strangers of Samaria 1 Did it secure the Divine presence and hlessing 1. Did it establish between them and God any per- manent covenant 1 Did it bring down the rains and dews upon their territory \ Did it even keep the lions oil"? And it may be :isked, that multitude that now hold loosely by everything religious what their professed regard for God will do for them 1 1. Will it secure them a religious character! Even this may be doubted. If iv-1'jion is worth nothing the world will say it is nothing. If we hold so loosely by it that we would barter away all its interests for a shilling, the world will believe that we esteem it a worthless religion. If to gratify a passion, or secure an interest, or secure a friend, we would change our religion, or be without its ordinances, and place our posterity upon the crumbling verge of infidelity, may we not well doubt whether we shall be able to save our sinking reputation as the friends of Christianity. The world will believe us religious ex- actly to the extent of the price at which we would sell our reli- gious interests. Hence it would seem that the great mass of un- godly men cannot escape the charge of hypocrisy in any profes- sion they make of esteem for God's character, and kingdom, and glory. 2. Will their indefiniteness of views and feelings on religious subjects tend to their peace of conscience 1 If there is much in the mind it will not. Men who have really given the gospel a serious and frequent hearing have seldom failed to discover that their sins are unpardoned, and their souls un- sanctified, and they in the gall of bitterness, and under the bonds of iniquity. They take so little pains to please God, and get to heaven, that they lose all the pains they do take, and go on unhap- py all the way to the grave, and to perdition. 3. Does the little regard that ungodly men pay to divine things increase their advantages of obtaining salvation 1 I fear some- times that the opposite may be the effect ; that the careless manner in which they attend upon divine truth may harden their hearts against its sanctifying influence, that the few shillings they may pay for the support of the gospel — less than they would expend upon the most worthless concern of life — will induce the habit of feeling that the gospel is of no value. 4. Will this loose and indefinite regard to religious things save the soul \ No ; if it will not secure peace of conscience, nor in- crease the means of salvation, nor even secure a religious charac- ter, it surely will not save the soul. No ! men will go down to 246 THE TRUE GOD A SURE DEFENCE. hell, wearing all the different shades of disregard to God, and his kingdom. 5. Will it lay the passions, and still the appetites 1 No! the soul that is not filled with God must be ever on tht reach to find something else to fill it that is not God, and must fly from vanity to vanity, "And find no end, in wandering mazes lost." Each object, as it seizes it, will say, happiness is not in me. 6. Will it soothe the bed of death 1 No ; that will be a time of decision, and to have not been honest with God will, in the re- trospective glances of that hour, be the most horrid and torment- ing glance. Men's duplicity in the things of religion, will be the irhost that will haunt them on the dying bed. 7. Let the subject, then, teach us the value of decision in the things of religion. If men have any regard to God, let them have enough to save the soul. If they hear his word, let them pray and repent, and do works meet for repentance, and then they live for ever, and God will keep the lions off while they live, and keep off the roariag lion when they die, and bring them to his kingdom at last, wht re they may bask in the beams of his face for ever SERMON XX. THE TRUE GOD A SURE DEFENCE — No 2. 2. KINGS XVII. 33. They feared the Lord, and served their own gods. When Israel went into captivity under Shalmanezer, king of As syria, supposed by the ancient Hebrew writers to be the same with Sennacherib, God condescended to give the reasons why he thus dealt with those who had been long his covenant people. " They had sinned against the Lord their God," [read from 7th to 17th verse,] " therefore the Lord was angry with Israel and removed them out of his sight." How amazing is the condescension of God, that he would thus stoop to give a reason of his conduct to the very men who had awakened his indignation and his wrath. Doubtless it may answer some important purpose in his moral government — that his very enemies be convinced of the righteous- ness of his dispensations. By this very means every mouth will be stopped and all the world become guilty before God. He will thus keep up the fear of him and the dread of him among the na- tions, and he will hold in restraint the very enemies of his throne and of his kingdom. It is added as an item of guilt on the part of Israel that their conduct had affected Judah, and had induced Judah to walk in their statutes, for which the Lord had rejected all the seed of Israel. This evil effect of their example induced the Lord to reject them, and afflict them, and deliver them into the hand of the spoilers, until they had cast them out of his sight. There is nothing that men are more accountable for than their in- fluence : the bearing that theconduct of men shall have upon their neighbors, may constitute the most prominent item of their guilt — God may destroy the wicked sooner than he would, because he will protect from their contaminating example the men who are exposed to be injured by their vices. This was manifestly the fate of Israel. They had stayed longer in their land, and the foe had been held in check had not the kingdom of Judah been in danger from the example and influence of their idolatries. The divine penman now goes back to rehearse the matter from the beginning, and speaks of God as having rent Israel from the 2-iS THE TRUE GOD A SUKE DEFENCE. house of Judah. This would seem like shifting off the blame of their apostaey upon the Creator. But we remember that nothing is more common in Scripture, than the ascription of the same deed both to God and man. God is said to have hardened the heart of Pharaoh, and still he charges upon Pharaoh the crime of hardening his own heart. He is said to have moved David to number Israel, and yet we hud him punishing David for this very act. It is said of the enemies of Israel that God turned their heart to hate his people, and still he punishes them for hating his people. These texts, though there are many others Hue them, are sufficient to show that the Scriptures are familiar with the ascription of the same act, both to the Creator and the creature. Should we now recur to the history of that transaction, we may perhaps discover reasons why there should be this ascription of the same event to two distinct agencies. When Kehoboam was about to take the kingdom, the people of Israel, headed by Jero- boam, complained to him that his father had made his yoke heavy, and prayed that he would lighten it. He took counsel of his prin- ces, and answered the people roughly, and the result was, that the ten tribes revolted from the house of David. They made Jero- boam their king, and he led them into idolatry, and the result was that the wrath of God was kindled against them, and he sent them into captivity from which we are unable to say that they, to any very great extent, ever returned. Now, what are the facts in this case, that would go to show that the transaction was of Divine ap- pointment, and by the Divine agency 1 In the 1. Place, we see some some reasons that God had to be offend- ed with the house of David, and why he should sever from his family part of the kingdom. In the latter part of Solomon's reign he had gone into a state of dark and guilty backsliding ; had mul- tiplied his wives and given up his heart to pleasure. He had be- come the richest and most powerful prince on the face of the earth. The spirit that led David to number the people, had led Solomon to feel proud in the extent of his riches and his power. Hence Rehoboam was led to answer roughly and proudly the prayer of his people, when they asked to have their yoke lightened. This pride of royalty God would check and would punish. He had so threatened David for his sin in the case of Uriah. And we see in his successors, sufficient reason why he should now punish the ini- quity of the fathers upon the children. Hence we shall not be surprised to find the Divine agency employed in severing the king- dom. THE TRUE GOD A SURE DEFENCE. k„±\) 2. We find that when Rehoboam had gathered together his one Hundred and eighty thousand warriors to reduce the rebellion of srael, that God forbade him to go up to fight with his brethren, Diit bid every man to return to his house, and offered, as the rea- son of this requisition, " This thing is done of me." Thus are we led to see the evidence complete, that the division of the house of David into the two kingdoms of Judah and Israel, was in conso- nance with the Divine plan and through the Divine agency. 3. We find, moreover, that God had, even in the time of Solo- mon, directed Ahijah, the prophet, to show Jeroboam that he should be king over ten of the tribes of the children of Israel. We have a record of the facts in the eleventh chapter of the first book of Kings, (from the 26th to the 40th verse.) Now that which God would direct his own prophet to foretell, must be an event that his mind has purposed, and his providence is pledged to accomplish. And he condescends even to offer a reason of this resolve of the Divine mind. Because they have forsaken me and worshipped Ashtoreth the goddess of the Zidonians, Chemosh the god of the Moabites, and Milcom the god of the children of Amnion. Thus a father's sins may create mischief in his house ages afterwards. Let us now inquire what there is to show that it was all a hu- man transaction, and that though it led to the apostacy and ruin of Israel, they still deserved the punishment that came upon them. 1. There appears something suspicious in these complaints — as no good reason can be found why they should complain of the yoke they had to wear under the reign of Solomon. He enriched and advanced the kingdom, and did all that could be done to make his subjects easy and happy. There was peace during all his reign. They suffered not by invasion during his time, and never had to jeopardize their lives in the high places of the field. They abounded in provisions, and money, and merchandise, and had, it would seem, all that heart could wish. Now a people who, at the close of a reign like this, would embody their complaints and peti- tion for a redress of grievances, would exhibit prima facie evidence that they had very depraved hearts, and that probably something else, and not the matter mentioned, was the ground of their griev- ance. 2. The Israelites achieved their own separation and ruin, by ad- hering to the counsel of an impious and unprincipled Jeroboam. He, doubtless, instigated them to prefer their complaints, that he might have a pretence for seizing the sceptre of the ten tribes, be- fore Providence gave the signal. They ought to have seen and 32 250 THE TRUE GOD A SURE DEFENCE. been aware of their wickedness. It does not excuse men's sins that they have presented to them insidious and powerful tempta tions. We may not give up our minds to be under the control of any other mind, till we know that the mind that guides ours is in- fallible. Else we must be responsible for all the results as if we had guided our own steps. 3. There was precipitancy in Israel's determining to be a king- dom by itself, till they had asked counsel of the Lord, whatever confidence they might have in the integrity and ability of their leader. True he had been marked out as a king by the Lord's prophet, but the transaction was private, and could be known to Israel, only as Jeroboam in the pride of his heart, had without au- thority divulged it. And his known character ought to have made them doubt whether their interests would be safe in his hands. Men may not resign their own judgment and presume on the Divine protection and guidance, unless they look well, and wisely, and providently to their own interests. 4. The people of Israel, and Jeroboam with them, took upon themselves the whole responsibility of their separation and their undoing, by forsaking the worship of the true God. " It shall be," said the Lord, " if thou wilt hearken unto all that I command thee, and wilt walk in my ways, and do that is right in my sight to keep my statutes and my commandments, as David my servant did, that I will be with thee, and build thee a sure house as I built for David, and will give Jerusalem unto thee." Thus would the promise of God have secured Israel's prosperity, if they had walk- ed in the counsels of the Lord. While, then, the purpose and pro- vidence of God made Israel a distinct people, and they, as it would seem, laid the train for their own undoing ; we see in the story every feature of a mere human transaction, laying the foundation for guilt and for desert of punishment, for everlasting reproach and self-destruction ; God rent Israel from the house of David, and yet Israel rent itself from the house of David, and chose its own king and him a wicked king, who drove Israel from following the Lord, and made them sin a great sin. For the children of Israel walked in all the sins of Jeroboam. It is evident, then, a man may do infinite mischief — mischief that shall not be finished in his own age or generation, the stain and the shame of which shall adhere to his blood, and pollute his memory. Jeroboam is held up as an example of wickedness, in all the generations after him, till the time when no one could tell where the tribes dwelt. And even to this day, when not a trace THE TRUE GOD A SURE DEFENCE. 251 of that people can, with any great assurance, be found, that man who was their leader in this revolt from the house of David, and from the worship of the true and living God, is held up as on a gibbet to warn all the generations not to copy his wickedness, lest they partake of his plagues. The sequel is awfully admonitory. Israel departed not from the sins of Jeroboam, until the Lord removed them out of his sight, as he had said by all his servants, the prophets. " So was Israel car- ried away out of their own land to Assyria unto this day." REMARKS. 1. This subject should lead us to reflect on the immutability of all our own moral actions. It was not very far from a thousand years before Christ, when Jeroboam instigated Israel to revolt And now, almost three thousand years afterwards, the curse is still resting on the house of Israel. If that portion of the seed of Abra- ham has not become extinct, as the promise would seem to tell, how incalculable is the weight of that man's iniquities — and who- ever else might sin with him, and all Israel sinned, still how im- measurable in their moral turpitude are his crimes, who began the whole train of mischief. 2. How inflexible is the holiness and righteousness of God — un- pardoned sin he never can forget to hate. Sin not purged away in a Savior's blood, will never lose its odious aspect, though under a process of punishment many thousand years. And how can we, with such facts before us, doubt but that, towards the incorrigibly wicked, God may keep his anger for ever. 3 The subject leads us to adore the wonders of God's moral government. An event may be 30 his own that he appointed it, and would not let another defeat, and was the mighty power that kept all the agents in life, and sustained and strengthened them while in the service, and there may be great sin and unpardonable in the trans- action, and still God do only right, and the crime and guilt all be lona; to the asjent that is governed and controlled. 4. The subject will lead us to reflect upon that text. " No man liveth unto himself, and no man dieth unto himself." There is not a transaction of life, if wicked, done in the seeing or the hearing of our fellow-men, but may go to involve them in guilt, and operate upon their character, and history, and destiny, when they may have perished a thousand years since. Hence we must ask those around us, and they U3, what we and they shall be 232 THE TRUE GOD A SUKE DEFENCE. when these heavens are dissolved. The character of man is so pliable that it may be easily changed for the worse at any period of its formation, and no touch of moral influence fails to change it hence every man lives where he is giving character to a world And when, at last, we shall read the history of these moral results we shall feel it to have been a terrible thing to have lived in sucl a world, where souls are spread out around us on every side, who destiny will depend on their character — and that character con nected with our conduct. SERMON XXI. Till' MYSTERIES OF PROVIDENCE. PSALM XCVII. 2. Clouds and darknesi are round about him. When our Lord had assembled his disciples to eat with him the last paschal supper, it was a moment of amazing interest. The devil had put it into the heart of Judas to betray his Master, and the machinations of darkness were in rapid and successful opera- tion. A few hours would pay the price of blood, seal the doom of the traitor, and scatter the little flock. There would be great weeping in the church, and equal joy without. Our Lord could have averted that storm, but his purposes of mercy must then have failed ; hence he let his power sleep, and gave the hosts of hell the opportunity of a triumph. He had yet one lesson to teach his disciples, and would instruct them practically. He rose from supper, laid aside his upper garment, took a towel and girded him- self, poured water into a basin, and began to wash his disciples' feet, and to wipe them with the towel. He came to Simon Feter. Said the astonished Peter, "Lord, dost thou wash my feet 1 ' The Lord answered, " What I do thou knowest not now." What could be more surprising to him than that his Lord and Master should offer to perform for him so mean an office 1 But the astonished Peter would live to see the mystery solved; "thou shalt know hereafter." He would learn a lesson of humility, and be prepared to teach it to all nations. But the text is not of private interpretation, and may teach us, that many things transpire under the present ministration of Divine providence, which to men are very mysterious. It will be my object to bring into view some of these mysterious events, and afterwards inquire into the source of the mystery. I. I am to notice some of the events of Divine providence that are mysterious. It cannot be expected that I give a very enlarg- ed catalogue of these events. It will be sufficient if the few that I may notice suggest others that are obvious to every reflecting mind. I name, 254 THE MYSTERIES OF PROVIDENCE. 1 The limited spread, and small success of the gospel. It was published in Judea eighteen hundred years ago, and the injunction was that it be preached to all nations. Our Lord had power to cause this command to be obeyed. He could have raised up the proper instruments, and could have given the truth access to the conscience and the heart to whatever extent he had pleased. A very few of his disciples, in all ages, have been desirous to exe- cute this last will of their ascended Lord, and have done some part of their duty. But the number has been small, and their ef- forts so insulated, that very little has been done. Three quarters of the globe are yet unacquainted with the book of life, have never heard of a Savior's death, or been invited to the marriage supper of the Lamb. Of the eight or nine hundred millions who inhabit the adobe, six or seven hundred millions are, up to this day, the worshippers of idols, attributing to a block of wood, or a bar of iron, the perfections of Jehovah, and offering them the homage he demands. Almost the whole population of Asia, computed at five hundred millions, are perfectly ignorant of God and the Sa- vior, as the beasts that roam the deserts. The fifty millions of Africa are in a condition no less deplorable. Among the two hun- dred millions of Europe can be found millions in a group who are involved in almost total moral darkness. Of the fifty millions in the two Americas, something like four-fifths remain to be taught what be the first principles of the oracles of God. And the isl- ands of the sea are, with a few exceptions, so many moral deserts. Thus the gospel of salvation, the forlorn hope of a perishing world, the invaluable bequest of a dying Savior, the only guide of the livino-, or hope of the dying, the celestial charter of a blessed im- mortality, at the end of sixty generations, circulates only through a little corner of this revolted world. A few millions enjoy its noonday beams, and others its twilight, while more numerous mil- lions are immersed in the shadow of death. From some regions where the gospel has been, it seems to have taken its everlasting flight. Scarcely an inch of '.hat territory where prophets taught, and where apostles bled, can be considered within the limits of the church of God. Jerusalem, and Antioch, and Ephesus, and Rome, and Carthage, where truth once had a lodgment, are but so many provinces reconquered by the prince of darkness. And where the gospel tarries still its success is small. Compare the number of professors with those who are without the pale of the Church, and they are lost in the superior numbers that turn their back upon the communion. And what numbers of THE MYSTERIES OF PROVIDENCE. 255 those who feed at the table, will not at last sit down at the mar- riage supper of the Lamb, we dare not calculate. Beyond a doubt all are not Israel that are of Israel. We know that many in the last day will say, "Lord, Lord, have we not eaten and drunk in thy presence V to whom Christ will respond, " I never knew you.'' Many ministers of Jesus Christ, at the end of a long life, have exclaimed, in the language of the prophet, "who hath believed our report, and to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed ? The British missionaries labored twenty years, in the islands or the South Sea, ere they could tell us of their success. Some verj able men of God, have been heard to say on their death-bed, that they were doubtful whether they had been the means of saving a single soul. They have feared that God had merely employed them to bring the fate of Chorazin and Bethsaida upon an aban- doned multitude. Now in all this there is something very myste- rious. If Christ issue a gospel, why suffer it to travel round the world so slow 1 Why fertilize here and there a little spot, and leave the residue of the world a desert 1 If he design to bless our race, why not render his gospel, wherever it is proclaimed, the wisdom of God, and the power of God] In an enterprise so dear to the heart of God as that of rendering men holy, one would think that he would embark all his attributes. " Clouds and dark- ness are round about him." 2. There has been something mysterious in the success that has attended the propagation of error. Why will the blessed God give his enemies opportunity to fill the world with lies 1 The more firm our faith in the promise, that all nations shall, one day, come to his light, the more of mystery is there in his suffering the ene mies of truth to have any success. Just when the gospel had com menced its course, Mahomet was permitted to impose his delusions upon a hundred millions of souls. And as the darkness of pagan* ism began to be dispersed, popery riveted its chains upon another hundred millions. Many districts of our world, which were once blessed with a pure gospel, have since become the prey of error. How many sectaries have arisen, and grown in numbers and in in- fluence, whose delusions were too bare-faced to deceive any but n fool. No error seems too gross to forbid its circulation. The Svvedenborgian and the Shaker, who could have collected theii creeds no where but from the reveries of Bedlam, have not failea to gather about them a community of madmen. And we could name other sects, whose fundamental doctrines have no foundu- 256 THE MYSTERIES OF PROVIDENCE. tion either in Scripture or in common sense, and still they find ad- herents. An impostor will gain a host of proselytes, while he who proclaims the truth has scarcely made a convert. I know that error finds, in the depraved heart, a soil that is congenial, while, for the reception of truth, its fallow ground must be broken up. Hence no surprise is felt at the fact that wicked men should love error ; but God is the Governor of the world, and can check its progress at his pleasure, and that he does not is our surprise. I know the truth will finally triumph. The witnesses, whose souls cry from under the altar, will yet see every opposer at their feet. But why the temporary triumph that God allows to the ene- mies of his gospel ? Why must good men so often encounter chilling opposition in every effort they make, and so frequently seem vanquished I So Israel encountered many a defeat in con- test with the very people whom God had devoted to destruction. I do not say that faith has no answer to these queries, but that it must look often through a dark cloud. Even in the present day, when the finger of God writes success on every banner of his hosts, still he continues to allow the enemies of his gospel to hope. Every pious effort awakens new opposition, and passions that had lain dormant are enlisted against his kingdom. One of the once holiest cities of our land, was lately enlisted, with its wealth, its eloquence, and its influence, against the immaculate glories of the Lamb. Now, why will God throw influence into the hands of his enemies, and block up the way of his people 1 God could fill the world with truth in an hour, and say to Zion, " Arise, shine, for thy light is come, and the glory of the Lord is arisen upon thee." While " the hearts of men are in his hand, and he turneth them as the rivers of water are turned," why will he allow the world to be overrun with error1. He has promised it to his Son, who is, one day, to " reign from sea to sea, and from the river to the ends of the earth." Now why will he keep his Son out of the promised inheritance so long, when he could so e;isily put down error, and give success to his truth, and bring every knee to bow to him \ " Clouds and darkness are round about him." 'A. The gifts bestowed upon bad men, viio abuse them, while many men of piety have smaller talents, is mysterious. Said our Lord, "I thank thee, 0 Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes." " Nol many wise men, afte: the flesh, not many mighty, nol many noble, are called : but Goa hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise THE MYSTERIES OF PROVIDENCE. 257 and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty." The fact is unquestionable that men of the finest talents have often been the avowed enemies of the truth. They have managed wisely, and pleaded eloquently, the cause of the adversary, and have spent their influence, and their lives to prop the pillars of his sinking empire. Hume and others of the family of infidels, who own him as their father, lavished upon a bad cause the energies of a mighty intellect. They wanted nothing but the aid of truth to give immortality to every page they wrote. Their destiny to forgetfulness is because they served a bad cause, and a bad master. Every age of the Church has had employed against her many of the noblest geniuses ; and her foes can never plead that they were foiled because they lacked the ablest of advocates. And yet many who have been eminent for piety have been comparatively wanting in powers of mind. They met the approbation of their master, having employed in his ser- vice all the talents that he had given them. If they failed in elo- quence or influence, still by their example and their prayers, they pleaded nobly the cause of truth, and will stand high at last in the estimate oi heaven. Their names will be remembered when every argument and every orator employed in the cause of the adversary shall have sunk into everlasting contempt. We are not prepared, however, to say, that irreligion can boast of a balance of strong argument or good sense on its side. Argu- ment has always been weak, however specious, when at war with truth, and good sense has been misnamed when associated with infidelity. Good argument must be founded in truth, and truth is the image of being and of fact, and will not lend its aid against its own honors. Now the mystery is that God should ever arm his enemies with talents to thwart apparently his purposes of mercy, to contradict his truth, to libel his character, and abuse his people. Will his providence make provision for strong and bitter oppo- sition to the very salvation he proclaims ? Will God undertake to subdue a rebel world to allegiance, and raise up in that same world men ably qualified to neutralize the whole spirit and import of the very overtures he proclaims 1 Why does he not blast the intell ct and paralyze the tongue that lend their influence to pervert the right ways of the Lord ? Why not wither the arm employed in efforts to dam up the flow of his mercy % Why no. touch the lips of his people as with a live coal from his altar, and render every child of his an eloquent advocate 33 0?8 THE MYSTERIES OF PROVIDENCE of the doctrines and duties of his salvation. "Clouds and dark- ness are round about him." 4. The afflictions of the good men, while the wicked are so extensively prosperous, appear mysterious. Understand me not to say that ungodliness hath the promise of the life that now is. And still the fact cannot be controverted, that many who have set their mouth against the heavens, seems to thrive well under the present ministrations of Divine providence. There attend them uninterrupted health, long- life, fulness of bread, and success in all their schemes, till they are emboldened at lensrth to deny that God made them, or that there is any omniscient eye to see them. And because sentence against their evil works is not executed speedily, their hearts are fully set in them to do evil ; while contemporary with them are seen good men, who be- come habituated to disappointment, poverty, and pain. Now, why will God suffer this in one case 1 Whom would a kind father smile upon, and bless, and prosper, rather than his own children % When was the world blessed with worthier men than the prophets and apostles \ And what class of men have ever suffered more 1 " They had trial of cruel mockings and scourgings, yea, moreover, of bonds and imprisonment .; they were stoned, they were sawn asunder, were tempted, were slain with the sword ; they wandered about in sheep-skins and goat-skins, being destitute, afflicted, tor- mented ; (of whom the world was not worthy :) they wandered in deserts, and in mountains, and in dens and caves of the earth." The summary detail that Paul gives us of his own toils and suf ferinws, cannot be read without strong and painful emotions. He speaks of himself as having been compared with others ; " In la- bors more abundant, in stripes above measure, in prisons more frequent, in deaths oft. Of the Jews five times received I fori y stripes save one. Thrice was I beaten with rods ; once was I stoned ; thrice 1 suffered shipwreck ; a night and a day have I been in the deep ; in journeyings often, in perils of waters, in perils of robbers, in perils by mine own countrymen, in perils by the heathen, in perils in the city, in perils in the wilderness, in perils in the sea, in perils among false brethren ; in weariness and painfulness, in watchings often, in hunger, and thirst, in fastings often, in cold and nakedness." And the long list of martyrs since Paul could each rehearse a tale that would torture a tender heart. Ages have rolled by, when the dungeon, the rack, the cross, and fire, and fagots, and every other instrument of torture, that ingenuity could invent, have done their utmost to rid the world of its besl THE MYSTERIES OF PROVIDENCE. 939 benefactors. And the providence of God, as if the hand of malice were too slow, has hewn down the best of men in the morning of life. The ministers of religion, the missionaries of the cross, the pillars both of Church and state, have received a mandate to quit the world, at the moment of their most extended influence, and greatest usefulness. They reached an eminence that qualified them to address a world, and rendered their services, as men would judge, indispensable to the prosperity of the Church, and were then swept into the grave. So fell Dwight and Worcester, and Mills, and Hall, Everts, Cornelius, and Wisner, and Payson, and the Churches adopted in their fall that mournful dirge, "Clouds and darkness are round about him." Or they sometimes live but to suffer, and groan, and weep. God does not allow his people in this world a downy bed, or the con- veniences of a palace, doubtless because he sees that such would not be the safest route to heaven. Their religion often procures them trials, and plants upon their brow a crown of thorns. Whe- ther they have any more trials than they need is not now the ques- tion. No doubt God could sanctify them by his Spirit, and take them to heaven through a less stormy passage. Nor can their tri- als be such as to render it doubtful whether God loves them. And still it is sometimes a mystery, that God's dearest people may not have more refreshments in the wilderness, and fewer pains on their way to his palace in the skies. In the meantime the wicked prosper. Health attends their per- sons, and success their enterprises, and there is poured into their lap a profusion of wealth and pleasures, and honors. And they live, it may be, to scourge the Church, to scare the timid, and vex the faithful, and stop the tardy, and wring from aching bosoms, midnight complaints, and agonized prayers. Thus they flourish like the green bay tree, and by a hardy constitution and a daring mind, rise superior to all the plagues and pains incident to holy men. The basest of human beings have sometimes measured out a hundred years, have attended the funeral of every pious con- temporary, and have even blown the trumpet of revolt in three centuries. An I it would be infidel not to confess that God had their life in his hand, and could have rid the world, at a word, of their con- taminating influence. The very men who are famous, mid weary themselves to commit iniquity, and would keep a thanksgiving if they could see the Church exterminated ; whose only prayer is that God would hate and curse his people ; these very men live by ~60 THE MYSTEIUES OF PROVIDENCE. Divine appointment, and feed daily on the charities of Heaven All this transpires under his government who holds his people dear to him as the apple of his eye, and has engraven the walls of their sacred city on the palms of his hands. How can Ave wonder that the weak in faith are sometimes put to a stand by events like these, and are led to say, " Verily I have cleansed my heart in vain, and washed my hands in innocency." " Thy way is in the sea, thy footsteps are not known 1" 5. The poverty of the liberal, while the churl is opulent, is another mystery. Ours is a miserable world, and might be meliorated in its fall, if the generous were uniformly wealthy. We meet with cases of dis- tress that mere sympathy, if we have no oil nor wine, cannot cure, misery that cannot be washed away with tears. And if we can add a few crumbs of charity, they may only aggravate the misery attempted to be relieved, by creating a taste that cannot be grati- fied, or men may lack these sympathies, but have the means of their gratification. Many know not where to bestow their fruits, and their goods, while the poor may beg unpitied the crumbs that fall from their table. But with this misery they give themselves no concern. The wounded may be in the streets, but they can pass by on the other side. The widow's fires are gone out, and her little ones are hungry, but it brings no tear into their eye. Some Macedonian prayer is heard from the wilderness ; immortal beings are going on to the judgment without a Bible, and are finishing their probation without a hope of immortality. But why disturb them with these foreign and frivolous complaints 1 They but shut their ears, and grasp their purse the harder, for every out- cry of want that may assail them. We can see them glory in the means they have, but will not use in curing the miseries that lie spread around them. One man could furnish his town with the gospel, but lets it lie a waste place ; another could build them a sanctuary, but suffers the place where God's honor dwells to crumble into dust; another could support a domestic missionary, and repair the desolations of many generations ; another could charter a vessel with Bibles for India ; another could educate an evangelist, and another support him in some outpost of Zion ; and yet the whole of them combined will not unite to buy themselves the gospel, but squander away the Sabbath as the beast does. Now were all this wealth in the hands of the benevolent, it would seem wise and "food in him that governs the world. The THE MYSTERIES OF PROHDENCE. 261 poor would be supplied, the heathen evangelized, the gospel sup- ported, and the blessed God honored. It seems impossible that this should not, then, be a happier world. The ruins of the apos- tacy would, then, be more than half repaired, and there would be seen approaching the millenial year of the world. Now the mystery is, that God should, in so many cases, give the wealth to one, and the benevolent sympathies to another ; should place the talents where they cannot be used, and the kind- ness where it has no medium of display. The wealth rusts for want of use, while benevolence bleeds over misery which it has not the ability to relieve. When occasionally the two things meet they are like apples of gold in pictures of silver. I could men- tion characters that will go down to posterity with honor ; in which were identified opulence and charity. With these to be useful was to live, and, though dead, they yet live in the streams of charity they created, and which will continue to flow till they have fertilized the wastes of many generations. But I could name others who had hearts to feel, but had not the means of re- lieving the wretchedness over which it was their painful luxury to weep. The immortal Howard, having devoted his patrimony in the cure of distress, poured out his tears over other miseries which the smallness of his resources, and the shortness of human life, disenabled him to relieve. To adopt the sentiment of his eminent eulogist, " he visited all Europe, not to indulge in its luxuries, but to dive into the depths of dungeons, to plunge into the infection of hospitals ; to survey the mansions of sorrow and pain ; to take the guage and dimensions of misery, depression, and contempt ; to remember the forgotten, to attend to the neglected, to visit the forsaken, and to compare and collate the distresses of all men in all countries. His plan was original, was full of genius and hu- manity. It was a voyage of discovery ; a circumnavigation of charity." Such were the efforts of one who felt for the misera- ble beyond his ability to administer relief. He did honor to the finest feelings of our nature, and erected to himself an imperisha- ble monument in the memory of the miserable. And it would be easy to name men of the opposite character, who have the means of making the wretched happy, but on whom no child of sorrow can ever fix a look of gratitude. But we are happy to say the world is now undergoing a change, by which men of this description must become as contemptible as they are wealthy. God is saying now to the world, that the silver and the gold are his, and many, at his bidding, are casting their wealth 262 THE MVSTERIES OF PROVIDENCE. into his treasury, and the father, who will not nov aid the cause of charity, will make his heirs ashamed. A suffering world has raised its cry to heaven, and God has heard, and will have its miseries relieved. But how strange that for so many thousand years, he should have permitted wealth and charity to be so ex- tensively dissociated, when their union would have so mitigated the miseries of the apostacy. 6. I mention but one other fact under the government of God that would seem a mystery, the small degrees of sanctijicatiofi in his people. Knowing that they would never arrive at heaven without his interference, God has undertaken to sanctify them by his Spirit ; and has even promised that when he begins a good work he will see it consummated. There is, then, a pledge given that God will make all his people like him. Hence we are confident that he has never abandoned one that he has begun to sanctify. And still how little of the image of God is seen in his people. And I have no reference now to false professors, but to those who give the best evidence that they love the Lord Jesus. The pious kings and patriarchs of Israel all polluted their memory, and marred their enjoyment by sin. The best men whose history is recorded in the volume of in- spiration, are seen to have come greatly short of what God would have them to be. And the Christians of the present day, are, at the best, poor polluted creatures. How liable to become worldly, to pollute their consciences with crime, and dishonor the sacred name into which they have been baptized. In every prayer they make, one who is a stranger to his own heart is liable to infer that they have polluted their hands with capital offences against the laws both of God and man. Now, why will God permit his family to be so corrupt 1 Would he not love them more if they were like him1. And their songs how much sweeter, and their sacrifi- ces how much more acceptable, and how much more abundant their comforts, and more exalted the glory that would redound to their Redeemer, if they were more holy. And they are God's own family, whom he will have near to him in his kingdom, and who arc to reflect his glory for ever. He intends to go on operating in their hearts till he makes them like himself, and yet he permits them to carry about with them, till they die, a body of sin and death. It is wonderful that an everlasting covenant should bind such polluted creatures to their holy Redeemer ; that their sins do not forfeit them the endeared relationship, and cut them off from iiope, and happiness, and heaven. And equally strange, on the THE MYSTERIES OF PROVIDENCE. 263 other side, that since God could, by a single word, render them perfectly holy, he should still permit them to progress so slowly in their way to perfection. Why not say to the whole family of believers, " I will, be ye clean," and thus, in one moment solve the mystery, and render millions of hearts happy \ " What I do thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter." REMARKS. 1. The subject should render us humble. Our view of every sub- ject is so limited and so obscure, that no very great degree of confidence can become us. It may give us joy that God knows how every thing will terminate, and that in the end we shall know that God has done all things well. But while we know so little, and with regard to many things hardly venture to have any opin- ion, the deepest humility becomes us, and the greatest modesty, when we think or converse on the ways of God. A proud man, in such a world as this, is a monster, and not to be tolerated till he is smitten with a deep sense of his own insignificance. To be learning all we can is our duty, and still it is our duty to feel till we die that we have only read a single page of the book of Provi- dence, and have read that page by the dimmest twilight. We may have as enlarged hopes of the discoveries of futurity as we please to cherish, may calculate one day to know even as we are known ; but to have at present any confidence that God has made a full disclosure on any subject, is to lose sight of our own novi- ciate, and prepare ourselves for sad and everlasting disappoint- ment. 2. While the present state of things is calculated to destroy all self-confidence, it prepares the way for the most enlarged faith. The less we know, the greater occasion is there to believe, the less we are permitted to discover of our path with our own eyes, the more absolute the necessity that we lean upon the hand of God. If we walk in darkness, and have no light, the command is that we trust in the Lord, and stay ourselves upon our God. If we can but walk safely, though it be by starlight, we may rest assured that, by-and-bye, when the sun has risen, we shall see that God has led us in the right way, that we might go to a city of habitation. Surely our confidence in him may rise to the highest pitch of as- surance. If it be important that we learn, before we reach hea- ven, to rely with the most entire confidence on the truth and faith- fulness of God, then are we placed in the very world where we can learn this lesson to the happiest advantage. One could not learn 26-i THE MYSTERIES OF PROVIDENCE. to believe in heaven, learn to trust where no danger is, learn to wait when every good is present, or be diffident when the whole mys- tery is developed. And we cannot tell now how much good it may do us in heaven to have been bred for that world in the very twilight that now surrounds us. It may render heaven a far hap- pier world than it would otherwise have been. This world may hereafter be seen to have been the nursery where only we could have learned some of those first lessons that lay a broad founda- tion for progress and joy in the acquisition of heavenly science. And we may a thousand times bless the Lord in our future songs, that no farther light was granted us when we passed this desert. Let faith be strong and we can hear songs in the night. Job sung sweetly while his night was the darkest. "I know that my Re- deemer liveth." His song was the dictate of faith which darted through the cloud, and perched him upon the summit of Tabor, where lay smiling in his eye the fields of promise. There he sung, and Moses after him, and there if we can but climb, we shall see a wider, and fairer, and more fertile Canaan than gladdened believers under the darker dispensation. Come ye disciples of the Lord Jesus. "Try, try your wings," — let your faith put forth its mightiest efforts, and soon you rise above this twilight, and ten thousand intricacies of providence disclose their mystery, and you see a wise, and great, and good Jehovah managing, with unerring skill, the darkest operations of this beclouded world SERMON XXII. THE WAYS OF GOD UNFOLDED. JOHN XIII. 7. What I do thou knowebt not now, but thou shall know hereafter. The operations of Divine providence afford the believer a sub- ject of contemplation, the most delightful. Little as he can know in his present state, and darkened as must be all the views of a finite mind, when employed in tracing the footsteps of an incom- prehensible God, still the research is pleasant. When vision fails faith operates. The solution of one mystery, leads us to antici- pate the moment when others, darker still, shall be solved. The light that has dawned shall shine brighter and brighter unto the perfect day. It is the God we love, who is seen to operate. Not only can he do no wrong, but he will yet permit us to see that he has done right. A child passing a wilderness in a dark night, in company with his father, would not feel alarmed, if for a moment, he could not see the hand that led him. Parental love secures the child, and filial confidence renders him content and happy. The wilderness has its limits, and the darkness its period. Creatures from their very structure, can never know but little, and at present, comparatively nothing. It is enough for us, that he who operates, knows ; he who moves the machinery, has decreed that the result shall be wise and happy. And yet it is our duty to obtain all the light we can. We should be far less ignorant of God and his works, if we were more industrious in our researches. Half the mystery of which we complain, we create by our inattention and our depravity. I. We can at present know but little of the ways of God. 1. We often mistake the Divine purpose. In many cases the ef- fect, which God designed to accomplish by a particular train of operations, is already produced, while yet we are looking out fa" other effects. Deceived as to what was God's main purpose, we imagine the event distant, which has already transpired. God wi 1 give us at present no other account of his purpose, than that con- 34 2(36 THE WAYS OF GOD UNFOLDED. tained in his word, and this relates merely to our duty, and the consequences of obedience. It may be the design of God to ac- complish many things, which Ave should have supposed, would never have entered into his plan. He may permit men to act basely, merely to illustrate the depravity of their hearts, and thus corroborate the testimony of his word ; or that his justice may shine the more conspicuously in their condemnation; or that they, in their overthrow, may become a beacon to warn others ; or that his people may be rendered the more grateful, for the benefits of restraining and sanctifying grace. We are altogether too igno- rant to determine what is a desirable event. We may lament as an incurable evil, what God may esteem an invaluable good. Hence we may labor to defeat an event, to accomplish which all the at- tributes of omnipotence are embarked. Our prayers and energies may be excited to agony in warding off a storm, which, it is his purpose shall come down upon us in all its fury. We watch at the couch of a languishing child ; our life is bound up in his ; if it die, it seems to us that God must design to undo us ; and yet, perhaps, that child was given us that it might die in our arms, and be the means of our sanctification. We dread some apprehended revolution, as calculated to sap the foundations of our civil liber- ties, and yet God may see that it will enhance our blessedness. Hence it will often happen, that God and his people will seem to be at strife. They aim at his glory, and suppose that he would be honored by an event which, should it transpire, would injure them, and cover his throne with a deeper darkness. But in a case like this, God will approve our motives, but will thwart our pur- pose; and when the series of events is finished, we shall see and confess that we were mistaken, and that God was wise. 2. The remoteness of the cause from the effect, renders inexpli- cable many of the events of Divine providence. When we see the wondrous machine in motion, we look for results too soon. For- getful that one day is with the Lord as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day, we expect him to finish his work in an hour. The wheel we now see in motion will move another, and that another, and another, and another, till at length the hundredth generation will see accomplished, an enterprise which we see begun. Voltaire about a century since sowed the seeds of the French rev- olution, and thus commenced a train of events, that probably will continue in operation till the last day. Jeroboam instituted an idolatrous worship, which resulted twenty centuries afterward in the ruin of Israel. Mohamed more than one thousand years ago, THE WAYS OF GOD U.NFOLDED. 267 compiled a system of falsehood, which now chains in the dun- geons of death, perhaps one hundred millions of souls. But we must be infidels too, to deny that these are all events of Provi- dence, by which ultimately, God will cover himself with glory. And the subject will apply itself to things nearer home. A careless father admits into his family to-day a worthless laborer, whose pernicious principles and example debauch and ruin his de- scendants to the fifth, and perhaps the tenth generation, and, it may be, ultimately render his family extinct. A mother, to cover the villany of her son, denies a fact, or asserts a falsehood in his presence, and thus teaches her child to prevaricate, and entails crime and infamy upon her remotest posterity. A father breaks the Sabbath, and deserts the sanctuary, and thus places his offspring, for many generations, in the seat of the scorner. There is really no calculating how extensively may flow the streams of corrup- tion ; how remote from its source may be the outlet of those wa- ters, that carry wretchedness and death in their course. Or if we look at the brighter side of the picture, the prospect will be more pleasant. David, and Moses, and Asaph, three thou- sand years ago, penned those divine songs, which to-day produce joy and gladness in every part of Christendom, and will continue to multiply the happiness of believers, till the second coming of the Redeemer. Many a pious mother a thousand years ago, taught her children those principles, which, to-day secure to her a pious posterity, and to the world a host of benefactors. Our forefathers founded those institutions which are now the pillars of our land, and taught those principles which are now the stay of our churches, and the prolific sources of our revivals. And when the great drama shall be finished, we shall, doubtless, see many causes and their effects separated from each other, to the distance of a hun- dred generations. In these circumstances, how can we hope that in the passing events there will not be many things inscrutably dark and mysterious. If a force were seen in operation in this country, which was to produce its effects in the north of Europe, or in some isle of the Pacific, who could hope to remain at home, and comprehend fully the structure of that machine \ And the case is the same when time, as when space separates the cause from the effect. Standing by the little rivulet that issues from a mountain spring, how can we hope to measure and explore the ef- fects of that stream, when it has traversed a continent, and is pour- ing out its waters into the bosom of the ocean. Could we follow the eye of God down through the unmeasured tracts of time and see 268 THE WAYS OF GOD UNFOLDED every plan finished, all mystery would vanish. Thus, perhaps, the angels, born to noble enterprise, and raised by their immortality above fatigue, feast their expanded minds, on the interesting nov- elties of a wonder-working God. 3. We are often involved in mystery, because we do not see the connection betwen the powers operating and their results, even when not very remote. Hence many causes appear never tc have produced their legitimate effects, and many effects appear tc have transpired without a cause. There was a cause which pro- duced the effect, but one or the other was hid from our view The human mind was, perhaps, incapable of looking upon both at the same glance. A child surveys a complicated machine, but is able to see no connection between the motion of a water-wheel, and the effect produced. We see a stream of liquid fire pouring from the bosom of a cloud ; in a moment we see an oak, which had withstood the storms of a century, rived from its summit to its roots, but how this effect is produced, we are unable to say with any good degree of assurance, after the researches of six thousand years. There is a philosophy that can neutralize the liquid fire ; there is an eye that can trace the forked lightnings; there is a hand that can bind together, by intermediate links, the most remote extremes. To one thus endowed, and to him only, there can be no mystery. The cause and effect may be near, and the connec- tion natural and visible, and yet that connection hid from us. Pe- ter could see no relationship between the humiliating act of the Redeemer in washing his feet and the lesson of condescending kindness which that act was intended to teach. Paul, with all his faith, wondered that he must be tortured with that thorn in the flesh. And many a Christian, since then, has quarrelled with his circumstances, as calculated to retard his spiritual growth, and has endeavored to thrust himself from a situation, where he was learning the best lessons that heavenly wisdom could teach. 4. Many things are to us mysterious, because we see but in part. But one scene of the grand drama falls under the view of any one generation. We see the commencement of a process, which will not be finished till the judgment; or we see a result, whose remote cause lies hid among the ages that have elapsed. When the last day, which will see every scheme accomplished, shall throw back its light upon the long train of causes, which shall then be seen yoked with their specific results, the darkness of which we now complain will all have vanished. A parent edu- cates his son, without any design whatever, except to procure him THE WAYS OF GOD UNFOLDED. 269 the means of being wealthy and happy. Knowing the worth of an education, he, in his turn, educates his son, till at length there rises up in that family, perhaps not till the tenth generation, a Brainerd, a Schwartz, or a Vanderkemp, by whose pious labors the very desert is made to blossom, and vast tracts of its wastes are re- deemed from endless desolation. But this grand result can never be known till the morning of the judgment. Then we learn why that first youth was educated. A man is wealthy, but covetous to a proverb, and has an only son. All the wealth he can grasp he hoards up for that son, but he, in the mean time, becomes dissipat- ed, and dies a vagabond, and the father, destitute of an heir, is constrained to put his overgrown estate into circulation, and it final- ly drops into the treasury of the Lord, and is expended in sending the bread of life to the perishing heathen. But this happy result can never be fully appreciated till the period of the judgment. Then we shall know why the father was permitted to become pe- nurious, and the son dissipated. And the same is the case with regard to almost every movement of the wheels of providence. There is x\ot\\'mg finished in the present world but character, or, if finished, the result is not declared. We can see the whole of no- thing. Onr station is at some point on the winding banks of a stream, whose source, and whose outlet hide themselves in the darkness of an unmeasured distance. One great object of the judgment will be to show that God was wise and good in all he did. and this can only be seen when every event is finished. Then the widow will know why she was so early bereaved. The mother will know why death tore her infant from her bosom. The aged minister will see why he wept away his life over a hard-hearted people. Then the believer will no longer see through a glass darkly. The night that now hovers about him will be dispersed, and the full blaze of a noon-day sun shine upon every unfinished scene through which he is now passing. 5. Another source of mystery arises from the contrariety be- tween the means employed and the end achieved. The very course is pursued often which we should have judged would have defeated the object. Pharaoh must feed the family of Jacob dur- ing the years of famine, and to compass the object Joseph must go into Egypt a slave. Who can wonder that the patriarch exclaimed, " All these things are against me." The captive Jews must enjoy the patronage of the king of Babylon, and to compass this design Daniel must be cast into a den of hungry lions. On that dreary night what believing captive dared to hope that God was dealing 27C THE WAYS OF GOD UNFOLDED. kindly with his people. And they must be in esteem with the court of Persia, but to effect this a gallows must be erected for Mordecai. When the gospel was to be disseminated, there must be upon the Roman throne a cruel, ambitious Csesar, who should not shrink at the sight of blood till the world was subdued at his feet. The idea of communicating instruction by means of tracts originat- ed in the mind of Voltaire, was first used in the propagation of infi- delity, and is now among the best means employed by the Redeem- er in subduing the world to himself. It was the Divine purpose to cure the world of infidelity ; to accomplish this, God directed that the experiment should first be made, whether a nation could be happy without the Bible ; this experiment must be made in the very centre of Christendom, and France must be the scene of its operation. The Scriptures were committed to the flames, and so complete was the conflagration, that, at the close of the scene, a search was instituted and continued in Paris for four days by seve- ral enterprising men, without being able to discover a single copy of the Bible. The dreary result you know. Infidelity has the heart of a tiger : blood is its proper nourishment, and it can feed upon its own bowels. The leaders in that enterprise invented the guillotine, and dyed its beams with their own blood. The Jeho- vah whose word they had proscribed, swept them all, as with the besom of destruction, into one untimely grave. The tale cannot be told without emotion. It was the song of death, and the work went on till the very grave said, " It is enough." The plague spread throughout the empire, till almost every mother in the realm grieved that it had not been her destiny to live and die childless. Thus we saw the legitimate fruits of infidelity, and this experi- ment, strange as it may seem, has stabbed the vitals of that mon- ster. No nation will again make the experiment of becoming happy by the aid of infidelity. All are receiving the Bible, and it will soon be read in every language under heaven. Thus means are employed apparently the most contrary to the design which is accomplished. 6. Another source of mystery is the amazing disparity between the cause and the effect. An arrow shot at a venture, entered be- tween the joints of the harness and slew the despot of Israel. A shepherd's boy, with a sling and a stone, gained Israel a victory over the army of Philistia. When Voltaire was a School-boy, who could see any connection between him and the plague of infidelity that desolated the French empire. When Alexander and Welling- THE WAYS OF GOD UNFOLDED. 271 ton were in their cradles, who could predict that they were to wade in triumph through the carnage of Waterloo. The British government laid a duty upon one article of export to the Ameri- can colonies, and it resulted in our independence. A little cap- tive maid directed Naaman to Elisha, and convinced the court of Syria that there was a God in Israel. So the little stone cut out of the mountain without hands, will yet become a great mountain and fill the whole earth. How is it possible that we should not seem surrounded with mystery, while we inhabit a world where the greatest events are thus constantly resulting from causes which are too small to claim any relationship to those events. Inattentive to what is passing, the event breaks in upon us while yet the cause lies hid in the profoundest obscurity. 7. The complication of causes and effects casts a mystery around the movements of providence. The same train of causes produces more than one effect. That which we term an event is often the means of some other event. In the case of Joseph, God intended to afflict and sanctify his aged father, to develope the depravity of his brethren, to cast a little light into the court of Pharaoh, to bless Joseph, to save alive his father's house, to drown the Egyp- tian host, and finally, and principally to get to himself a great name. And thus is connected with every operation of providence a great variety of events. At times we find it impossible to come at the main design, and perhaps in most cases the main design cannot be known till the assize of the last day. 8. The perpetual variety which God observes in the movements of his providence covers his designs with mystery. We cannot calculate that the same causes will, with any uni- formity, produce the same effects, even when all the circumstances are apparently similar. The same disease will not operate on one constitution as on another, nor on the same constitution at one time as at another. The same exposure which yesterday caused death, to-day is innocent ; and the medicine which in one case checked the rage of a disease, in another has beenthouuht to aid its operations. The same remark, which yesterday was hurmless, to-day kindles a fire not. to be extinguished in half a century Hence we can predict nothing. God seems designedly to cover himself with impenetrable darkness. His way is in the deep waters, and his footsteps unknown. " What I do thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter." 9. We perpetually misjudge, as to events, which arc happy and which unhappy. 1 fence the mystery of the crucifixion. How 272 THE WAYS OF GOD UNFOLDED. could the disciples, who hoped in a Savior that would redeem Israel from civil oppression, see any wisdom in the arrest and the murder of their master 1 And yet his death redeemed myriads from spiritual bondage, and from the endless miseries of the second death. A mother is employed during a score of months, in rear- ing to intelligence a lovely babe; but at the juncture when it be- gins to reciprocate her smiles, when it had entirely entwined her heart, had become an essential ingredient in her cup of blessings, she wakes and finds herself embracing a lump of lifeless clay. All distress and darkness, she inquires, Why did it not perish in the birth 1 Why could it not have died when I loved it less 1 Why must it live till a mother cannot survive its death 1 And yet, per- haps this very event is the means of snatching the mother from perdition. In one word, our ignorance is the principal reason why the passing events of providence are so dark. We are inadequate to judge how it becomes God to treat his people, and how his ene- mies. And our duty is to wait patiently till the light of a brighter dispensation dissipate the darkness of the present. III. One word on the promise, " Thou shalt know hereafter." This refers us to the light of the last day. Then Christ will come to be glorified in his saints, and admired in all them that believe. Then all the events of Divine providence will be finished. We shall then know what was the Divine purpose in every dispensation. The cause and the effect will approximate, will develope their con- nection, will lose their contrariety, will display their parity, and unfold (heir intricacy. We shall look no longer upon one distinct part of a dispensation, but shall see the whole. What was to us an infinite variety, will appear, perhaps, to have been the most perfect uniformity. Judging then, as God now does, we shall see that every event was happy. The whole series of events will be finished, and the holy universe will have nothing else to do but to wonder and adore. REMARKS. 1. The subject is calculated to render us modest and humble. In a world managed so entirely without us, where we can know so little, and can predict nothings we have very little cause to feel ourselves of much importance, and have constant occasion to see and feel our own worthlessness. 2. And yet we are admonished by this subject to be very cir- THE WAYS OF GOD UNFOLDED. 273 cumspect in our conduct. Insignificant as we may appear in our own eyes, or in the esteem of others, we may do incalculable mis- chief. There is a kind of immortality attached to all we do. Our imprudent language and misdeeds may commence a train of mis- chievous operations, ending in the ruin of our children and our neighbors ; and we may never know the extent of the mischief til) we hear them sentenced to perdition, and perhaps perish with them 3. Let the subject encourage us to attempt the achievement of great good. Causes are often small and weak, and yet the effects incalculably grand and glorious. A little one, under the Divine management, may become a great nation. If Mordecai had been afraid to attempt great things, the captive Jews had been extir- pated, and the very palace-chamber stained with their blood. If we shrink from the labor of being useful, we may die in our in- significance, and God will give to others the honor of building up his kingdom. 4. How capacious beyond conception must be the mind of God. Of that system of providence which we contemplate by parts, he takes one comprehensive view, and manages with an incontrollable sovereignty. With him time and space are nothing ; no darkness can obscure his view, no cloud intercept his vision. Very obscure are our best views of him, very low our thoughts, and very poor our noblest affections. In heaven they behold his glory, and offer him better praise. 5. The subject must be full of comfort to GotTs people. The pre- sent darkness is but temporary, and the God whom they love manages the affairs of providence. They need have no fear that God will not provide for their safety and comfort. He reigns to make them happy. Their interests are identified with his own. He will guide them by his counsel, and afterward receive them to glory. There they may be delightfully employed for ever in con- templating scenes, which now, perhaps, fill them with alarm. The danger will then be over, the wilderness and the sea behind, while in prospect there will be spread out a boundless and n blissful Palestine. But this consolation belongs only to the true believer. The hypocrite will not arrive at heaven. To him the present darkness will continue, and become more and more dense forever. Finally, tin.-; subject offers no comfort to the enemies of God. At present he may prosper them, but they can have no hope that he loves them. They are forming a character for the judgment, and when that character is fully formed they will go to their own place. The mischief they have done will all be remembered, and 35 274 THE WAYS OF GOD UNFOLDED. they will receive the due reward of their deeds. They can hope for no brighter day than the present. The promise in the text does not reach their case, till by repentance they change their cha- racter. It reads in the page of inspiration, and is a dreadful line, " Darkness shall pursue his enemies." The same cloud that light- ed the tents of Jacob, cast impenetrable darkness into the camp of the enemy. While God's people are destined to emerge from the present darkness, it will thicken about the enemies till they shall find themselves involved in the blackness of darkness for ever. SERMON XXIII. THE LOITERER AT THE VINEYARD. % MATT- X.\. 6. Why stand ye here all the day idle. The text is from the story of the vineyard, where laborers were nired at the different hours of the day, and where some were found idle even at the eleventh, and were set to work in the vineyard. Thus is illustrated the great work which we all have to do, and the importance that we be about it early. The object of introduc- ing' this parable was to induce men to think. When men will be- gin to think, a very important object is gained ; this thought, how- ever, must result in feeling, or nothing radically important is ef- fected. And when men feel they must act, or nothing is done to any lasting or important purpose. And even then the grand de- sign of the gospel is not answered unless men act from right mo- tives. If men suppose that God thus pushes his demands too fan they have only to be told that every human parent demands all this of his child. But many fatally mistake the grand design of the gospel and o( life, and suppose that some external morality is all that God re- quires. What then is the chief end of man 1 This is not a mere child's question ; but should be put to the youth, to the middle aged, and the man of gray hairs. We should put it to ourselves in the morning and in the evening, and seven times a day. It should be written over the posts of our doors, and worn as a sig- net upon the breast. It is a question of the mightiest import. We learned the answer when children, have we to this day understood is import \ In the sacred volume the question is ably and elo- quently answered. " God has made all things for himself." He is an infinite ocean of excellence, of wisdom, holiness, justice, and goodness, and truth. He was eternally inclined to communicate his happiness to creatures. If, therefore, he act according to his nature, he will make creatures happy. Intending thus to act, he created angels with great capacities to contain the overflowings of his goodness. He made man, also, to share in the same bliss 276 THE LOITERER AT THE VINEYARD. and join the angels in a general song of praise. Having made these immortal beings, be began to make himself known to them, that they might begin their joy. He opened before them the treasures of his grace, and invited them to partake and be happy. To us, he has revealed himself in the volume of nature. The whole creation glows with the beams of his love. In the still richer volume of his hand, we have his character in fairer lines. There are delineated the features of immaculate beauty. This, then, is the great business of life, to know and love* our Creator, and Benefactor, and Preserver. If we already know something of his excellent glory, and in some measure love him, our present business is to know him better and love him more. Another part of our work is to promote the knowledge and love of him in others. Is any immortal mind benighted, it is our work- to find access to it, and through some opening, introduce the light of heavenly truth. Is any heart hardened by sin, it is our work to place it beneath the droppings of the cross, and let it there dissolve. It is our work to spread out before it the character of God, and give it opportunity, by our transforming view, to be changed to love. Believing God to be an infinite fountain of good, which con- stantly overflows, our business is to open channels of communica- tion, that it may flow out and bless the world. In one word, this is our business, we are to use our time, our influence, our wealth, our every talent in the grand business of causing God to be known and loved. This is the chief end of man. This is the work which every man must do, or God will accuse him of standing idle. It is not the business of ministers only. None in heaven, earth, or hell, are exempt. God has not made one creature, that can be spared from his work. Could he have spared the instrumentality of a single creature which he has made, that creature would not have been made. He would not have moulded that body, he would not have infused that immortal spirit to be a mere cumbrance to creation. No one can be excused. Not an angel can be spared, not a man must be unemployed, not a devil but must advance his praise. God must be known and loved. Are there not some of my dear read- ers who have not yet began this work 1 It is to no purpose, that you have been industrious; it is to no purpose that you have spent anxious days and restless nights; it is to no purpose that you have heard many sermons, and attempted many prayers, it is to no purpose that you have fed the poor, and clothed the naked, and led moral lives ; if you have neglected the Divine glory, THE LOITERER AT THE VINEYARD. lZ t ( you have done nothing in the account of God. — Will conscience now do its office, do any of you feel willing to acknowledge, that as yet you have done nothing 1 — To you, then, I propose one short question, — " Why stand ye here all the day idle ?" I. Is it because you know not vjhat you have to do ! Not one of you can make this plea, you have had the Bible in your hands from your infancy. If you have neglected to read it, or if you have willingly misunderstood its meaning, it is nevertheless true, that God has given you a revelation of his will, in his word. The parts of that sacred book which your memory retains, bears daily testi- mony against you. You have listened to a preached Gospel. The ambassadors of Christ have often pressed upon you, your duty. They have search- ed the Scriptures, and told you the will of God. One after ano- ther has Deen sent, till by their united efforts, unless you have ab- sented yourself from the house of God, they have explained your whole duty. From Sabbath to Sabbath, they have taken their stand in the sacred desk, and have published in your ears their heavenly message. Not only on the Sabbath, but on other days have you been invited. Scarcely, since you left your cradle, has the Gospel trump ceased to vibrate upon your ear, and God will have kept the whole account. Many of you have enjoyed the instructions of pious parents ; parents who have labored from year to year, with many discour- agements, and many tears, to impress your minds with a conviction of truth and duty. They have spoken of these things to you, " when they sat in the house, and when they walked by the way, when they lay down, and when they rose up :" with all the tender- ness of anxious love, have they pressed upon you, your obliga- tions to your God, and your dying Savior. Some of you had other friends, who have been faithful to your souls. Perhaps the wife of your bosom has awakened you in the midnight hour, to tell you, that you was sleeping on the margin of the pit. Perhaps a brother or a sister has wept over you, and plead with you to be reconciled to God. Had you enjoyed none of these means, you still might have known your duty. You might have learned much of God from the works of nature! For the invisible things of him, from the creation of the world, are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even his eternal power and Godhead. The very heathen are without excuse. Even the knowledge of God 073 THE LOITERER AT THE VINEYARD. which they may acquire, would render them capable of serving him. What excuse, then, will there be for you ! Indeed, the Af- rican and Hindoo can tell you, that your ignorance will furnish you no excuse. You know that there is one only living and true God, who is your Creator, and whom you ought to love and serve ; assured that you are giving up your plea of ignorance as untenable, I again ask, " Why stand ye here all the day idle ?" II. Is it because it is not an important work, to which you are called! You suppose it, then, of small importance whether God be honored, or whether you or your fellow-creatures be happy. So it seems, then, of no importance, that, what was God's object in cre- atine- you, should be accomplished ! Should he think it of suffi- cient importance to induce him to create you, and will you think it too trifling an object to engage your attention ! Can you possi- bly think it of no importance, that God be known and loved by his creatures'? God himself is happy in being known and loved. Herein he acts out his nature, and continues his own immortal blessedness. Where, then, can be an object half so grand ! The creatures of God can never be happy, except by knowing and loving him. In no other way, did ever men or angels enjoy true bliss. And it seems you are regardless, whether they are happy or not. Are you, then, willing that heaven should cease to be a place of joy and songs! Are you willing, in wanton cruelty, to tear away the angels' harps! Are you regardless whether any of your fellow-creatures ever again feel the transports of holy love! If so, pray tell me where is your benevolence. In saying that the work is not important to which you are invited to attend, you implicitly say, that your own salvation is not impor- tant. Is it then, unimportunt that you have God for your friend ! In times of affliction, when you will be sinking under the pressure of grief, will it be of no importance to you, whether you have a God to support you ! In the hour when you die, can you grapple with the monster alone ! Can you pass undismayed through the shadow of death, without any Divine conductor ! Is it a matter of indifference to you, whether you die under the curse of the law, or under the smiles of a pardoning God ! When with your dying breath you cry, " Lord, Lord, open unto me !" are you willing to hear him say, " Depart, I never knew you /" In the morning of the resurrection, would it not give you joy, to have the Savior meet you at the grave, and bear you home to your Father's presence! THE L0ITEKEK AT THE VINEYARD. 279 In the day of judgment, would you not be glad to have Christ for your advocate ! Would you not wish to hear the transporting sen- tence, " Come, ye blessed of my father, enter into the joy prepared for you from the foundation of the world!" Would you not wish to be on the right hand of the judge! And when slow eternity is rolling away its ages, would you not rejoice to sit among the re- deemed, and help them sing the song of Moses and the Lamb ! Is it not, then, an important work to which God invites you ! I hear you say, it is. " Then why stand ye here all the day idle /" III. Is it because it is an unreasonable work ? What then was ever reasonable ? You are required to attend to the business for which you were, the business for which God designed you, for which he has prepared you. He made you for himself, and now only requires that you serve him. He gave you the faculties you possess, and now only requires you to use them as he directs. He constantly feeds and clothes you ; and now only asks you to devote that life, which he makes his care, to his service. How- could you possibly be better employed, than in serving and loving Godl Where is there an employment so grand, so worthy an immortal creature 1 The angels are thus employed, and esteem it an honor. They think it reasonable, that their noble powers should be engaged in the service of God. And yet is it possible that you should think it unreasonable 1 Is it unreasonable that you should make exertions for the salva- tion of your fellow-creatures ? Their happiness is worth as much as yours. In heaven they would rejoice as loud as you; in ever- lasting burnings they would be as miserable as that immortal spirit of yours. They, as well as you, are destined to live for ever in joy or misery. You would think it reasonable that they should make exertions to promote your happiness, then why not you to promote theirs 1 Can one, possessed of real compassion, iOok upon a world ignorant of God, under the curse of his law, going down to people the regions of eternal despair, and feel no distress, and make no exertions to save them ! But there is another thought which I hope will come home to your hearts. You are called to make exertions for your own sal- vation. Is it not reasonable that you attend to this matter 1 Who will attend to it, if you neglect it 1 This is your seed-time, and if you misimprove it, must you not expect to " beg in harvest, and have nothing 1" Is it not a shame that you should make no exer- tion for yourself, when heaven, and earth, and hell, are anxious 280 THE LOITERER AT THE VINEYARD. for you 1 God contrived a way for your salvation, Christ died to redeem you, angels flew to bear the tidings of mercy and to min- ister to the heirs of salvation, the saints in glory wait for the news of your conversion, and saints on earth are praying for you, and pleading with you, devils are anxious to keep you out of heaven. All this anxiety, and you none for yourselves ! Tell me anything under God's heavens more unreasonable, than this want of concern about your own salvation. Is there any unreasonable sacrifice that religion would require of you 1 You are required to renounce your sins, to take up your cross, and follow Christ. And now, in all this, what do you sacri- fice 1 For everything you relinquish, you shall receive a hundred fold in this life. For your hatred you will have love, for your pride, humility, for your stupidity a lively sense of divine things, for your selfishness, a warm regard for the welfare of others, for Egyptian darkness, you will have the light of life, for your sinful companions, you shall have the warm friendship of saints and an- gels, for the regions of death, you shall have the fields of light. Where, then, is the unreasonable sacrifice 1 Is there none ? then " Why stand ye here all the day idle 1" IV. Do you reply, there is time enough yet ! This excuse is the most fatal ever offered ; while others have slain their thousands, this has slain its tens of thousands. He that resolves to neglect religion today, will be likely to neglect it tomorrow, and aarain the next day, and so on for ever. But let me fairly understand the ex- cuse. Do you mean that you have not sinned long enough 1 that it will be better or easier to begin the work tomorrow 1 that it would be painful to be a Christian too soon! That you have more tune than you need to prepare for heaven! that God will excuse you from beginning this work today, or that he will not cut you off, should you yet continue in your sins ! One of these must have been the ground of this excuse ; let us look at each of them in order. Do you think that you have not yet continued in your sins long enough ! And how long is it since you began to rebel against God 1 With some of you it is ten years ; is not this a long time ? Ten years in the ranks of rebellion, is a distressing length of time. All that time God has been dishonored, his work neglected, and your soul impoverished. All that time you have had no God, and have been miserable. You have been all that time separated from the saints, an enemy to truth, and under the curse of God ; now may not ten years of such misery suffice 1 A'as1 I fear there are THE LOITERER AT THE VINE\ 4RD. 281 some of my readers who have been twenty, and thirty, and forty, and sixty years, in all this misery, and is not this enough ! ! Do you think the work will be easier to begin tomorrow ? This is a mistake, your heart will then be harder. It will have resisted the influence of one more sermon You will have more sin to repent of God will be more angry with you. The grand enemy will have you more completely within his power, and you will be nearer the mar- gin of the pit. Every moment makes the work harder. Every mo- ment increases the probability that you may never be a child of God Why will it be better to begin your work tomorrow'? You will then be one day back for ever. You can never be so happy as though you had begun today. If the soul be capableof eter- nal progression in happiness, then one day lost, puts it that much behind in its heavenly career. You will then have less time to do good in the world. In that case your death-bed will be more gloomy. You will have less time to give evidence of your piety. You will have less time to conquer your sins. There never will be a day so favorable for beginning your work as today. Do you think it would be painful to be a Christian any longer than is absolutely necessary ? And do you, then, suppose the Christian miserable 1 Is it painful to be the friend of God ! To be a joint- heir with Christ ! To have free access to a throne of grace ! To have your name enrolled in the book of life ! To have your sins forgiven ! To have a Savior's smiles ! Did Enoch, or Elijah, or Samuel, or David, find it unpleasant to walk with God ! My Chris- tian friends, do you find it unpleasant ! I am certain that every Christian in Europe, and Asia, and Africa, and America, would unite their testimony in saying, that they never felt joy till they became the friends of God. Do any of you suppose that you have more time than you need, in order to prepare for heaven 1 This will appear not to be the fact if you realize what must be done. Old habits are to be uprooted, and new habits formed ; the unruly passions subdued ; a know- ledge of truth acquired, and all the Christian graces implanted. We are naturally very ignorant of heavenly things, and are chosen to salvation through sanctification of the Spirit, and belief of the truth. " Sanctify them through thy truth." Now all who calcu- late to reach heaven, will need time to do all this. The oldest be- liever will tell you, that he shall hardly be ready when his Master comes. The youngest child, then, should not put ofFthe work of repentance a moment. Will God excuse you from begi?ining the work today ? He will not 36 282 THE LOITERER AT THE VINEVARD. He is angry with the youngest sinner for having hated him so lor.g. His uniform language is " today if you will hear his voice," " Now is the accepted time." His demand of your heart is founded on his right to you, and the glories that are in himself to charm you. He will not excuse any creature from loving infinite beauty and glory. He will not excuse you an hour, for this would be to license sin for that hour, and giving up his rights for that hour. He views himself as deserving not merely the service you can render him after tomorrow, but the additional glory you can do him to- day. And if any hope that God will not destroy them if they put off his service till tomorrow, that hope has not the truth of God for its foundation. There is no promise of God that secures life to the sinner for an hour. And if he lives, he cannot be sure then of an offer of mercy. This very day God may give you over to hardness of heart and blindness of mind, the man who is intend- ing to be his servant tomorrow. Many a sinner has dropped into the grave in the very act of postponing the concerns of his soul. Oh ! say not, there is yet time sufficient. While there is the spirit of postponement there is no advance made even in conviction, or if there should be some conviction, this spirit would destroy it all in an hour. To say the least, the mind is not deeply impressed while any future day can be set to turn to the Lord, or even a future hour. The heart in this case is still wedded to its idols. He that would follow Christ when he had bid forewell to those that were at home, and he that would first bury his father, were both in the gall of bitterness. "We must be brought up to that tone of feeling that spurns postpone- ment, else it is certain that there is no very deep impression of any sacred truth. We exhibit awful proof, if this is the state of our minds, that we are in the gall of bitterness, and under the bonds of iniquity. REMARKS. 1. The sinner who has long been accustomed to hear and repel these sacred truths of God, and who is still unmoved and unawak- ened, has reason to fear that God may be about to take the offer back. I cannot have a doubt but he does thus treat hardened sinners. And in all this he does just as men do when occasion requires. For example, one merchant makes an offer to another, which he teaves with him an hour; in that time the article that he proposed o sell or buy falls or rises in the market, and the offer is imme- THE LOITERER AT THE VINEYARD. 283 diately withdrawn. At any moment till the proposal is accepted, it may be withdrawn. So God, at any moment till the instant of the sinner's acceptance of his mercy, may quit making the offer, and then the sinner's doom is sealed for ever. Then is fulfilled that awful text, " He flattereth himself in his own eyes till his in- iquities are found to be hateful." Oh ! it would be a thousand times better for him now, if he could die a heathen, and lay his bones in some dark, idolatrous land, than to go down to hell from a Christian territory, where he had the word of the Lord, line upon line, and precept upon precept. 2. How horrid will be those regrets with which the sinner will review all this on the bed of death, and onward through a tardy and thinking eternity. He cannot but remember how often he was invited to enter and labor in the vineyard of the Lord, and how tender, and how tearful, and pressing were many of these invitings I have supposed that the sinner must be for ever thinking all this over, and recounting every new moon, and every Sabbath day, the years and the ages of misery that still remain till he has paid the debt. And not merely will he regret that he lost so much time, but that he has lost the best time. He has lost the morning of life. How promptly might his great work have been done, and all done, and time to spare, if he had gone into the vineyard at the rising of the sun. He might have been now a tall and shining spirit in the fields of light, and might have vied with angels in every song they sing, and in every excursion of love with which they fill up the lustrums of their blissful eternity. Their youth will be renewed in heaven, but not so in the dark world ; their age will grow older, and their very youth be haggard. Oh, could you see a spirit that has writhed one thousand years under the regrets of the pit, and sighed, and wept, and groaned, under the withering blasts that have been spending their fury upon his soul, you would see the most blighted and pitiable wretch in all the creation of God. This sight may you never see, This wretch may you never be. Even should you hereafter see the kingdom of God, you must be the subject of deep chagrin that you did not enter earlier. Then you might have had more time to labor, and your Master might have reaped through you a larger revenue of praise. One would regret, if regrets may be in heaven, that he should have been called home before he had time to shine bright, and rise high 284" THE LOITERER AT THE VINEYARD. in the school of Christ below. If in such circumstances one might reach heaven, he would wish an opportunity to weep before he begun his everlasting song. 3. The invitation is not one to pain, or danger, or misery. One would think that the invitation to labor in the vineyard must be an invitation to misery, in one shape or another, and not to bless- edness ; but the fact is, that the work is that which blesses the soul beyond any other. If you find one with nothing to do, just set him at the service of the Lord, in his vineyard, and you make him happy. Let him do whatsoever his hands find to do with his might, and you remove whatever was the cause of his miseries. In the work of God the body is kept in health, and the mind is put into its healthiest and happiest condition. It is a work in which life would be prolonged beyond any other condition under the heavens. " Wisdom's ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace." " Godliness is profitable to all things, hav- ing the promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come." But there are a thousand reasons, a thousand times told, why men should not permit the invitation of the text to fall but once upon their ear. Their dutiful reply should be, forthwith, " I go, sir." May the Spirit of the living God set home all this upon the con- science and the heart of all my readers, and thus conduct us all safely on to the time when the Master shall come, and the reapers shall be reckoned with, and shall receive, through grace, their penny a day. God does not call you to a painful and laborious work. Even in the work of repentance, that must begin the service, there is nothing painful. God does not require you to unsay any thing that you have said that was right, any thing that you can think on with pleasure in the slow-moving ages of your eternity. Nor does he ask you to undo anything but that which you never should have done. You had but one Master to serve, but one grand service to do, to bless your Maker, and honor your kind and generous Ben- efactor, and wait to know his will, and do whatsoever lie requires. And when you had been a little time thus faithful, he would have taken you to himself, and made you happy in the enjoyment of himself for ever, in his high and holy kingdom. There was nothing that we can see in the long vista of your eternity that would have revolved around a painful hour, or brought over your bright and glorious prospect a cloud as large as a man's hand, as long as God shall live. Thus there would have opened before you a field of THE LOITERER AT THE VINEYARD. 285 day, and a scene of pleasure broad as the whole period of your being. Then how sweet your immortal song would have bet;n while you vied with angels in your ascriptions of honor, and glory, and power to him that loved you, and washed you from your sins in his blood. 5. And there had been no dangers lurking about your path. God would have given you one promise that would have spread over you a safe and broad pavilion that would have covered the whole field of the vineyard. " I will never leave thee, I will never for- sake thee." Then you might have labored on, and won as many souls to Christ as Brainerd did, and Schwartz did, and Pau. did, and then might have gone in with them, and sat down with them at the banquet of your Master. There had not been a serpent in all the field to bite, nor a storm had gathered to beat you off from your work, and you would have sung many a song to while away the hours of toil, and finally sung the harvest home in accents sweet as angels use, and the hunlred and forty and four thousand would have gladly joined you in shouting a loud and lon his design, not to abrogate, but to establish the law. Fixed and stable as were the ordinances of the heavenly bodies, and firm the earth he had come to plant his feet upon, these should all pass away, while not a jot or tittle of the law should fail. Accordingly, as the Lord Jesus gathered disciples, and freed them, of course, from the curse of the law, he still subjected them to it, as a rule of duty. He transferred, from the Jewish Church to his own family, the very commandments which JMoses wrote on the tables of stone. Not an item did he repeal, not a precept alter, not a sanction soften. And the whole gospel is a broad and lucid exposition of the law. Hence it is now as much the fact as ever, that " Cursed is every one that continueth not in the things written in the book of the law, to do them." I shall state, in a THE LAW AND THE GOSPEL CONJOINTLY SUSTAINED. 299 few words, the error I would oppose, and which, as it seems to me, is in direct opposition to sound reason, and the whole Bible ; and then proceed to illustrate the doctrine of the text, that The gospel was not intended to supplant, but does sustain the law. I. State the error. The scheme is, that men by the fall, if not disabled, have become so averse to the law, that a perfect obedience is impossible ; and that God will now accept of an obedience that is sincere. If men will obey the law, as well as they are able with their carnal mind, the temper which, without their fault, they inherited from their first parents, God will accept them ; and wherein their obedience fails, the merits of Christ will be substi tuted. By this scheme, the death of Christ removes the curse of the law, from all men, soon as it lights upon them : for all do ren der to the law, the best obedience they are disposed to, and of course are safe, if they should live and die without repentance It must be seen in a moment, that, if to whatever extent men are unwilling to obey, they are unable, then all obedience, but that which is rendered, is dispensed with. And none is rendered ; for a kind of sincerity, consistent with the most confirmed hatred of God, and his law, and which, for aught I see, devils may have as well as men, becomes a substitute for right affections, and has all the merit of a perfect obedience. The whole amounts to this ; God relinquishes his right to any farther obedience than men, totally depraved, are disposed to pay him. In this scheme an atonement is made necessary, in order to finish out and render accepted the obedience of the sinner. This scheme, as altered to accommodate it to modern taste, relinquishes the atonement, and substitutes repentance. At what- ever time in this life, (and why not in the life to cornel) the sin- ner shall be sorry that he has broken the law, and shall practise some reform, God will promptly forgive him, without any refer- ence at all to the scenes of Calvary. He has in his heart so much compassion, and cares so little, — it amounts to this, — whether the law is respected or reprobated, that the very first tear of the offender washes away all his sins. These schemes are substantially the same, and are alike sub- versive of the law of God. They agree in casting off this poor world from all allegiance to its Maker, and virtually render him a God, not worthy either of the fear of devils, or the esteem and confidence of angels. I have thus stated the error, and have meant to do it candidly, 300 THE LAW AND THE GOSPEL which seems to me to pour its contaminating influence through ah the false systems of theology which are at present employed to injure the Church of Christ, and destroy the souls of men. I proceed, II. To illustrate Ike doctrine of the text. I shall arrange my thoughts under six general remarks: The first great commandment of the law, from its very nature, cannot be repealed ; Nor can the second ; The spirit of the law and the gospel is the same ; The gospel is a useless device, but on the supposition that the law is good, and must be supported ; The gospel, that shall set aside the law, will defeat its own design 5 The gospel is most glorious when the law is fully sustained. 1. The first great commandment of the law cannot be repealed. " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart." The very nature of this law decides, that a gospel which would neutralize it, would be a curse and not a blessing. The Creator must require his creatures to consider him the object of their supreme regard ; he can ask no less of devils. This precept is founded on the Divine excellence, and must abide in force while God shall con- tinue to be good. And as God is unchangeably good, this precept must abide for ever. He would sanction injustice, if he should repeal a law which requires that men render unto God the things that are God's. An act like this would create alarm in heaven, and send a premonition of ruin into every world that has continued loyal. Moreover, an act that should release intelligent creatures from loving supremely their Creator, would ruin the very beings thus released. Hence sang the Christian Poet : " From thee departing, they are lost, and rove At random, without honor, hope, or peace." This has ever been, and must continue to be, the law of hell, of earth, of heaven, and of all other worlds. Nothing that God has made has sufficient greatness and grandeur, to become our supreme object of regard " Give what thou canst, without thee we ate poor; And with thee rich, take what thou wilt away." The capacity that (iod has given us, must be gratified, or we are miserable ; and if it be gratified, God is loved according to the commandment. Now a gosnel that should set aside a law like this, would prove CONJOINTLY SUSTAINED. 301 a miserable expedient for a revolted world, as it would rob God of his deserved honors, and man of his highest happiness. How impossible that God should have given us such a gospel ! He never has, and never will, unless he could wish to see us all mis- erable. To be restored, from inordinate attachment to the crea- ture, to supreme love to God, is salvation itself; and how can this be effected by annulling the precept that enjoins this very change 1 And we assert, 2. Thai the second great commandment of the law cannot be repealed. " Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself." This, like the other, carries on the very face of it its claim to perpetuity. The first commandment was intended to bind the creation to its Maker, the second to bind creatures to each other. Neither of these ligatures can be sundered, and creatures be happy. To love our fellow men, is to make them subservient to our enjoyment: for to love is usually a delightful exercise. If God had commanded us to hate our neighbor, he had subjected us to the necessity of disobeying him, or of being lastingly unhappy. In proof of this position, I have only to refer you to facts. Ask the man of passion, who daily goes home enraged at some one of his fellow men, there to study revenge, whether to hate makes him happy. Or let my readers call to mind some of those seasons, when they were en- listed in some obstinate quarrel, and when for whole days, and perhaps for weeks, passion rested in their bosom, and tell me if you were not unhappy 1 Then, in commanding men to love one another, God has simply forbidden them to be unhappy — has given them leave to be happy. And the measure of our love, as here given, what could be more equitable. My neighbor is a sensitive being like myself; is capa- ble of equal happiness; and that happiness worth as much to him, as mine to me. Hence God must value his blessedness, as much as mine : and it is my duty to feel as God does. Hence, if God should repeal this law, it would be consenting that men should do wrong, have feelings at variance with his, and love happiness simply because it is theirs. To repeal this law would be to license selfishness ; the very pas- sion which has filled this unhappy world, and kept it full of mise- ry. If men are not obligated to love each other as themselves, then is there no standard by which their affection can be measured, and they are at liberty to hate and devour one another. If the gospel has set aside this law, then all the outrages which men have com- mitted, one upon another, have been licensed depredations : for 302 THE LAW AND THE GOSPEL God has disapproved only of what was a violation of his law. If he has anulled the precept that required men to love, he has virtu ally given them liberty to hate, and has sanctioned a total disre- gard of the second great commandment of the law. But nothing like this is true. The law still makes on fallen creatures a de- mand as large as upon the first pair in their innocence, and con- tinues to press its obligations after they are lost. The miseries of hell would be mitigated, if this law could cease to be binding. Tl e lost might then hate and torment each other, without increasing their guilt. 3. The spirit of the law and the gospel is the same. The spirit of the law, as we have seen, is love ; and the same is true of the gos- pel. In the inventory given us of the fruits of the Spirit, the first named is love. This is the bond of union in heaven, and all who are verging toward heaven, cultivate love, as the fundamental principle of their piety. When we read, "If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him," we have in other language, the whole spirit of the first commandment, " Thou shalt have no other gods before me." And when we read, " Whatso- ever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them :" do we not also read, " For this is the law and the prophets." Here the Lord Jesus Christ himself identifies the two, as if to settle the point for ever, that he came to expound and enforce the very pre- cepts of the law of Sinai. And the man must be grossly ig- norant of the New Testament, who does not recognize it, as the very law of the ten commandments, broken down to the relation- ships, and the exigencies of human life. In both Testaments we have the same divine character, the same code of doctrines, the same Christian graces, the same social duties, and the same pure and holy religion. When the gospel offers a pardon, to those who have violated the law, care is taken that the law be fulfilled and honored. The law is not censured, nor the sinner violently wrested from its curse. A substitute is furnished, on which the curse may light ; a substitute who had himself perfectly obeyed the law, who loved it, held it in high and holy respect, and died because he would not see it dis- honored. Had it been a bad law, hastily conceived, and impru- dently promulgated, Christ would not have borne its curse. If too severe, lie would have recalled its edicts, and would have mitigated its sanctions, if cruel. It was his first concern to secure the honors of the Godhead, and to do this he must sustain the law; his second to redeem the wretch who had broken it, and was con- demned. CONJOINTLY SUSTAINED. 303 The Savior had no more compassion than the Father ; loved justice, truth, and holiness no less ; hated sin as much, and hated the sinner as much, and was as unwilling as the Father, that a jot or a tittle of the law should fail. He did not engross in himself all the benevolence of the Godhead ; and was not a partisan with the sinner against the law. He did not come to make war with the Law-giver, but with sin ; not to vindicate the rights of the condemned, and wrest them from the punishment to which some ancient and cruel decree had exposed them; but to cover them with his body and his life, from the miseries they deserved to en- dure. Thus the law and the gospel have both the same spirit, and press the same design ; to honor God, and make his creatures happy. 4. The gospel was a useless device, but on the supposition that the law is good, and must be supported. Nothing can be more absurd than a gospel designed to free men from the curse of the law, while that law is already repealed, and has ceased to be binding. Hence the Lord Jesus Christ, lest men should make a mistake on this subject, declared very early in his ministry, that he came not to destroy the law, but to fulfil it. Indeed the very hypothesis on which the gospel is built, is, that the law is good, its precepts right, and its penalties binding. If otherwise, the law should have been repealed without a Savior. As soon as it was discovered that the law was not adapted to our circumstances, was too strict or too severe, instead of subjecting Christ to the pains of the cross, to relieve the culprit, he should have been pardoned without an atone- ment. Probably those who deny an atonement, are brought to this erroneous result, by some indefinite conception, that the law is repealed, to provide the way for man'? vecovery. Our reason tells us that there should have been no substitution, for those who had broken a bad law, or a law which for any rea- sons whatever it was not wise to sustain. If not wise to execute it, in the last extremity, upon the offender himself, then assuredly, not merely unwise, but monstrous, to punish the substitute. There should have been proclaimed immediately a free and full pardon There was the greatest possible cruelty in the transactions of the cross, but on the supposition that the law is too good to be set aside, even if the population of a world must perish to do it honor. 5. Jl gospel that shall set aside the law will defeat its oion design. Tell the sinner, in the same message in which you offer him a Savior, that the law he has broken, is repealed ; or has come into disrepute, and its cirse less to be feared than formerly, and he will 304< THE LAW AND THE GOSPEL answer, Then I have no need of a Savior. If my Sovereign is convinced, as I long have been, that the law is too rigid, he will not punish its violations; if its penalties are unjust, he will not ex- ecute them. I reject your offered Redeemer, and approach boldly to the throne, to demand my acquittal. It is mocking me to talk of an atonement, while I have done only right, in opposing a cruel and oppressive legislation. Thus the advocates of a gospel, built on the ruins of the law soon as they make the secret known, that the law has perished, furnish the sinner a motive for rejecting the gospel they offer. Thus they labor in vain and spend their strength for naught. They may urge the overtures of their gospel, till they have become gray in the service, and their hearers will remain unchanged and unreformed. The only consistent course is, to justify wholly the law, or offer no Redeemer. We must make man the diseased, and suffering, and dy- ing creature, that the Book of God describes him to be, or we need offer him no physician; must make him blind, or offer him no eye-salve ; make him guilty and condemned, or offer him no pardon ; make him polluted, or offer him no cleansing ; make him an exile, a captive, and a slave, or offer him no redemption. The estimation in which we hold the law, will decide, whether we have any success in offering sinners the gospel. 6. The gospel is most glorious when the laiv is fully sustained. The glory and the grace of the gospel, must, in the very nature of the case, be exactly commensurate, to the claims and the curses of the law. The one must contain a wo as broad as the blessedness im- plied in the other ; must present a ruin as wide and desperate, as the cure presented in the other; must frown as implacably, as the other smiles complacently. When we can thus honor the law, and justify the Law-giver, and defend, without misgiving, the most punctilious execution of every threatening that has issued from the lips of the Eternal ; then it is that we can equally elevate the glo- rious gospel of the blessed God : which else becomes as worthless as the Shaster or the Koran. The deeper and the darker the pit into which I had sunk, the mightier that arm that could lift me out. The full glories of Calvary, have never been seen, but by the same eye, that has descried ineffable beauty in the divine legislation. The gospel will be shorn of its last beam, when it shall be made to eclipse the splendor of the law. It is only the dead in sin that need the offer of life, the condemned that need a pardon. Christ, is the Repairer of the breach ; make the breach wide, and you make the Repairer illustrious Carry not the fertilizing influence CONJOINTLY SUSTAINED. 305 of the gospel, but into the very territory; where the curse of a good law violatud has spread a boundless desolation. There its healing waters will be welcome, an Eden will blossom under your feet, and the harvest of many years, repay your toil and make glad your heart. May the blessed God put honor upon his own insti- tutions. In bringing my remarks to a close, let me say, that the law can- not go into disuse. It expresses exactly the mind of God, and must be the rule of duty to his obedient subjects for ever. And when broken, as it has been in this unhappy world, its curse must fall, and remain upon the head of the transgressor, till he flies for refuge to lay hold on the hope set before him in the gospel. Till then he lies condemned, just as if a Savior had not died ; with this difference, that his condemnation if he perish will be aggravated by his having been offered redemption. He might have had life but would not, unless on such condition, that his transgressions might be justified. I close with REMARKS. 1. How tremendous the ruin of sinners, who after all this, shall fall under the condemning sentence of the divine law. God we see will not set his law aside. He would give his own well-belov- ed Son, to expire on the ragged nails, to save those who had brok- en the law, and incurred its penalty, rather than give his foes oc- casion to say, that he had repealed it. "If these things were done in the green tree, what shall be done in the dry 1" If God appeared so inflexibly holy, on Calvary, where he drew his sword upon the sinner's substitute, how terrible the indignation that he will display in hell. 0, is there a man, so hardened and so daring, that he would venture to pass through life, and go on to the judg- ment, with the curse of the violated law resting on him ! When he shall see that Redeemer, who saved others, but in whose blood he would not take sanctuary, coming in the clouds of heaven, with power and great glory, will he not regret, that he had not been in- terested in his atonement \ And when his destiny shall issue from that Savior's lips, and he goes to make his bed in hell, will he not learn, what now he is so unwilling to know, that " The law is holy, and the commandment holy, and just, and good V The torments of the lost, will be an abiding testimony of God's regard to his law. And those who shall have escaped to heaven, ivhen they shall " look upon the carcases of the men that have transgressed," will be feeling more and more strongly for ever, 39 306 THE LAW A.\D THE GOSPEL how great are their obligations to the Savior, for redeeming them from the curse of a law, so fearfully holy. And who, that places any value upon his soul, and believes that God will thus jealously guard the honor of his law, and has not already made him incorri- gibly angry, will delay an hour in securing an interest in that Savior, who bore the curse for us. O, my friend, haste your es- cape, as you would at midnight from your burning house, as you would from the jaws of a ravening lion, as you would from the ter- rors of a volcanic eruption, as you would from the fire that can never be quenched, and the worm that shall not die. 2. The subject will, I hope, prepare us to contemplate with hor- ror, the condition of those congregations, who have selected for themselves a ministry, that builds its instructions on the ruins of the divine law. Would to God that I were mistaken, in supposing such a case to exist. But when I hear, from lips that profess to have been touched with a coal from off the altar, that man is quite an upright being, has committed a few errors only, and these all venial, not sufficient to condemn him ; that he needs no atonement, nor Savior but to teach him. and be his pattern, and this Savior not divine : — When I hear of sentiments like these from the pulpit, I fear there is a controversy with the law of God, and that it is meant to be understood, that he has relinquished his demand upon the sinner, of a stricter obedience, than he is disposed to yield. Thus by putting aside the law, as we suppose is done in the out- set, and hewing down the whole system to accommodate it to this fatal error, the whole, though somewhat consistent with itself, is rotten and deceptive. Thus the sinner is lulled, and soothed, and when asleep, is kept slumbering till he is lost. He never has any proper sense of his sins, nor respect for the violated law, nor re- gard for the holiness, and justice, and truth of God. He never be- comes humble, nor fears God, nor embraces the Savior, nor quits his sins. The gospel he hears is like the Siren's song, that lures but to destroy. It keeps men stupid till it is too late to be anxious to any profit. O, ye lost and ruined congregations ! if my voice might reach you, I would tell you to look well to the ministry you attend. While it pretends to offer you life, it may destroy you. If you find it aiming to lessen the number, and diminish the aggravations of your sins, you ought to suspect it. You never will betake your- self to the Lord Jesus Christ, as your precious and only Savior, till the commandment come home to your bosom, hip-h and imperious in its claims; holy, and just, and good, in all it requires, and in all CONJOINTLY SUSTAINED. 307 it threatens. In the sense of the apostle, sin must revive and we die, else there can be no hope that we shall be made alive in Christ Jesus. The multitudes who have gone to heaven, and the whole army of believers who are bound thither, know the period when they felt themselves justly exposed to eternal death. The gospel that pretends to find you quite whole and happy, needino- only a little instruction, and perhaps some reformation, and aims not to alarm and distress you, you may rest assured is a lie, and not the truth ; it comes from hell, and not from heaven ; and if em- braced, will conduct you back with it to the recesses of perdition. SERMON XXVI. IMPENITENT MEN DESTITUTE OF HOLINESS. ROMANS III. 18. There is no fear of God before their eyes. The text gives us man's native character. Such he is till the Spirit of God has sanctified him. The criticism that would apply this whole passage to the people only who lived before the flood, or to a very few of the baser sort of sinners, is a contrivance of infidelity, and is extensively employed, in the present day, to be- tray and ruin souls. The man who is willing to shape his creed by the Divine record, is entirely satisfied, when he reads the pas- sages in the Old Testament which are here quoted ; but when he finds them referred to by an inspired apostle, and by him applied to the whole human family, Jews and Gentiles, no shado v of doubt remains. He is now content to lie down under the humiliating charge they bring, and is ashamed and confounded before the Sfreat Searcher of hearts. He who has become a new creature will consent that " God be true, though every man a liar." The fear of the Lord is a gracious affection, belonging not to the slave but to the son, and is the genuine fruit of a new heart, the beo-innino- of wisdom. Hence where this affection is not, there are no gracious affections. And if this be true, and the text ap- plies to all men in their unsanctified state, then it plainly teaches us, that in unregenerate men there is no moral excellence. My object at this time will be, not so much to prove the doc- trine, as to account for its having been controverted, and offer some reasons for esteeming it a highly important doctrine. I. Many have mistaken the native character of man, from having seen him capable of affections and deeds that are praiseworthy. It is not man's prerogative to judge the heart ; hence, if the tendency of an action is to that which is good, it is imputed to the very motive that ought to have produced it. If the deed has a fair ex~ terior, it is considered ungenerous not to impute it to correct prin- ciple. Men judge, however, on the maxim, that what is highly IMPENITENT MEN DESTITUTE OF HOLINESS. 309 esteemed among- men, cannot be abomination in the sight of God Hence they dress up human nature in garbs of innocence : and conceive it impossible that there should be, under so much that is fair and good in conduct, an evil heart of unbelief. They find men capable of kind, and generous, and honorable sentiments. They can be true, and trusty, and faithful, and affec- tionate ; and they triumphantly ask, How can all this be, when there is no love of God in the heart ! They see discharged, and sometimes quite honorably, the offices of parent, husband, brother and child, and all the other domestic and social relations, and impute it all, though to be accounted for on other principles, to native moral excellence. Hence they are precipitated into a con- troversy with that plain and humbling testimony of heaven, that " The carnal mind is enmity against God, is not subject to his law, nor indeed can be." Why will not men believe, what the scriptures so plainly teach, that the heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked ; and from this truth infer, that very different motives may lead to the same deeds \ We often see that an amiable disposition, a lameness and mildness, such as distinguish the lamb from the wolf, and the vulture from the dove — and that results in the exer- cise of many an amiable affection, and the doing of many a kind action — may consist with the practice of sin, the habit of a daily violation of the divine law, a prompt rejection of all the overtures of the gospel, and an inveterate disgust for the duties of a cordial and secret piety. We have recognized, where there was all the instinctive amiableness that is ever claimed, the existence of a polished and fashionable infidelity ; have marked offence taken, at the distinguishing doctrines of revelation, at the scruples of a well disciplined conscience, at the frequency and fervency of devotional exercises, and the elevated views and affections of the revived and happy believers. Still there were high pretensions to kindness, rectitude, generosity, and even piety. There was not a conscious- ness of the deep-rooted enmity of the heart to whatever is holy and heavenly. Men have wept under the sound of the gospel, and seemed the veriest converts to the truths under discussion, the affections enforced, and the duties urged, and ere they have passed the threshold of the sanctuary, have vented their spleen against the man, who reached their sensibilities, and drew from them, in an unguarded hour, their reluctant testimony to the gospel he announced. We do not deny, that there has been seen in men not sanctified, 310 IMPENITENT MEN DESTITUTE OF HOLINESS. much that it would be disgraceful not to admire, and envious not to praise, and evil not to imitate ; and still we may have had in- dubitable evidence, that in the very same bosom there beat a heart hostile to God, and holiness, and heaven. Not certainly will God, who compares the temper of the heart with his law, approve always the very deeds that men have praised, or the men who may have stood immeasurably high in human estimation. On this point the truth must not be concealed. We cannot say to sinners, that if they please man, God will assuredly be pleased ; that if they speak kindly to man, and do deeds of mercy to him, the Eternal will say, " Ye have done it unto me." There is no such assurance given in the record. And the time, or rather the eternity, will be here so soon, when their whole character must be known, when they must stand before the omniscient God, and all their heart be opened, and their whole life be read ; that to deceive tl em, and cry peace, peace, when there is no peace, would be as cruel as death. There is neither the necessity nor the wish to deny, that unsanc- tified men have exhibited many natural excellences of character. On this point I know not that there will be at last any controversy between God and them. Our Savior looked at the young man in the gospel, and loved him, while yet he was unquestionably in the gall of bitterness and under the bonds of iniquity. We yield to men traits of character that are amiable, and useful, and endearing, and wish most sincerely that there need be no reserve in our praise. But while they have been kind, and neighborly, and piti- ful, and even generous to their fellows, they have robbed God. They have wept at the tale of distress, and hastened to succor the perishing, and bled in sympathy over the diseased and the dying, but have never shed a tear at the cross. They have believed man, and confided in him, and spoken truth to him, and have well earned his confidence and affection, but they have practically made God a liar. They have never fully credited either his threaten- ings or his promises, nor thought it necessary to take sanctuary in his Son. There has not been a moment in their whole life, take the time when their conscience was the most tender, and their sensibilities the most nwakened, and their deportment the most religious, and their hopes of heaven the most profound ; when some other object beside God, had not the high and distinct ascendency in their affections. VVhile they could treat men mildly, and be rebuked without wrath, and even endure Divine tudgmetrt8 without the appearance of rebellion ; they could sti.l IMPENITENT MEN DESTITUTE OF HOLINESS. 311 brow-beat all the anathemas of the law, and parry every thrust of the gospel, and live on, without reflection, and without prayer, and without repentance, and without God in the world. They still cared not for all the melting entreaties of divine mercy. God was not in all their thoughts, nor his religion in their lips, nor his throne in their hearts, nor his will controlled them; while, as the friends of the poor, the patrons of moral virtue, and the benefac- tors of the world, they were illustrious, and were promised in human eulogy a luminous and happy immortality. Thus has the human character, all deformity as God views it, been exhibited as sound and good. Distinctions have not always been made, between what is nature, and what is grace ; what is mere instinct, and what [^.holiness. The multitudes of the ungodly have been blessed and dismissed, doubting whether their charac- ter was at all deficient, or they needed to be born again ; and high in the hope that a slight reform, and a little care, would soon pre- pare them to stand accepted of God. Even men who have worn noted marks of the apostacy, the covetous, the proud, the vain, and the worldly, have retired with a smile, to enjoy their good opinion of themselves and feed quietly, and sleep sweetly, while the wrath of God abode upon them. They have gone to their farms and their merchandize, to love and pursue supremely the cares of the life that now is, or bury themselves in scenes of dissipation and folly, not suspecting but that all was well, and all safe, till either the Spirit of God awakened them, or they sunk to a hopeless per- dition: or they live still, and are filling up the measure of their iniquity, and are preparing for a deeper despair, than if they had perished far sooner. And they must thus perish, it seems, because they are amiable, while publicans and harlots, who have no such virtues to screen them from conviction, believe in the Savior, and live for ever ! II. Men have been led to controvert this doctrine because tin y are not conscious of the wrong motives by which they are actuated. Through the workings of a deceitful heart, ignorance of the scrip- tures, and sometimes by the aid of a heterodox ministry, men have totally mistaken their whole moral character. They are rich and increased in goods, and have need of nothing ; and know not that they are wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, ami naked. What the prophet says of the idol-maker, is more or less true of all unregenerate men in all ages, "A deceived heart hath turned him aside, that he cannot deliver his soul, nor say, Is there 312 IMPENITENT MEN DESTITUTE OF HOLINESS. not a lie in my right hand 1" Hazael could not believe that he de- served the character which the prophet gave him, " Is thy servant a dog that he should do this great thing I" And Jehu, when he cut off the house of Ahab, and destroyed the worshippers of Baal, would have felt himself abused, to be told that he was actuated by the love of praise. When the rulers of the Jews were charged with murdering the Lord of life and glory, though they had done this very deed, thought Peter a slanderer, in his attempt to bring this blood upon them. So Saul of Tarsus supposed he was doing God service, while persecuting to death the disciples of the Lord Jesus. Thus may men act from the very worst of motives, and yet suppose them the very best. They do not consider it impor- tant to know what their designs are, and have not that familiarity with their hearts that would render it easy to discover. And thus they are led to controvert the truth, and quarrel with God, his word, and his ministers, who all give them the very character they have. III. The doctrine of the text is often converted to support schemes with which this sentiment would not compare. The sinner's entire depravity, is a fundamental doctrine, on which there can be built only one, and that the gospel system. Make this doctrine true, and it sweeps away, as with the besom of destruction, every creed but one from the face of the world. It settles the question, that God may righteously execute his law upon all unregenerate men ; that "by the deeds of the law there shall no flesh be justified;" that the doings of unregenerate men are unholy ; that even repentance will not take away the curse that has lit, and must rest, upon the man who has not continued in all the things written in the book of the law to do them ; that an atonement, such as God has provided, through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all, is the only medium through which we can purge our consciences from dead works to serve the living God. It farther decides the ques- tion, that men will not seek after God ; that he must be found of them that sought him not, must give repentance unto life, must lake away the heart of stone and give a heart of flesh ; that in the reo-enerate he must work, to will and to do of his own good pleasure ; and finally, that he must be an Almighty Savior, who could redeem beino-s so lost, and put them back again into the favor of a justly offended God. Thus it is only one scheme of truths that this doctrine will sup- port j the faith once delivered to the saints. If men depart from IMPENITENT MEM DESTITUTE OF HOLINESS. 313 the truth, as we are told they shall in these last days, giving heed to seducing spirits and doctrines of devils, they must thus come into close and comfortless contact with a doctrine, which, if true, gives the lie to all their false and delusive schemes. Hence we wonder not that "the foe of God and man, issuing from his dark den," has here displayed, in every age of Zion's conflict, his migh- tiest chieftainship. Here must be the edge of battle, in every conflict between the gospel and the systems invented by men ; between the friends and the foes of truth. This is the fortress that has been taken and retaken ten thousand times, where has been tried the prowess of God's people, and his enemies ; where has been displayed the power of God, and been put to the test the endurance of his elect, in all the ages that have gone by. IV. This doctrine has been controverted through the pride of the human heart. Depravity is a most degrading doctrine, and entire de- pravity intolerable, till the heart has been humbled by the grace of God. There is in apostate men great pride of character. We would all be considered friendly to what is good and great, and such is God, even in the profession of the most depraved ; such is his law, and such his government. With the promptness with which we fly the touch of fire, does pride resist imputation. Hence inquires the unregenerate man, Would you deny me the credit of loving my Creator, Preserver, and Benefactor! Do I never obey his law, or do a deed from motives that please him 1 And is there, among my noblest actions of kindness to men, nothing that amounts to love 1 In my gladness for the good things that God bestows, is there not a shred of gratitude 1 in my admiration of his perfections and his works, no love ! in my belief of his word, no faith ! in my expectation of heaven, no hope \ in my sorrow for sin, no repentance ! in my endurance of adverse events, no submission! and in my gentleness and condescension, no humili- ty 1 are my prayers sin and my sacrifices abomination 1 do I thus, on all occasions, break the fist and great commandment of the law? and on all occasions the secon d also 1 in all my noble generosity, is there no benevolence 1 in my soft deportment, no meekness 1 and in my tears for the miserable, no pious sympathy 1 most every deed I do have the same moral deformity ] and God hate me, and his law condemn me, when I follow the kindest dic- tates of that nature he has given me 1 Thus men feel, that if this doctrine be true, it goes to defame und ruin their character. It makes them go astray soon as they 40 314 IMPENITENT MEN DESTITUTE OF HOLINESS. are born, speaking lies. It makes their righteousness as filthy rags. When they have washed themselves in snow-water, and made their hands never so clean, this doctrine, with ruthless hand, plunges them into the ditch, and their own clothes abhor them. When they industriously provide for their household, they are ac- cused of loving the world, while the love of the Father is not in them. When they would go to the sanctuary, and pay their vows, there they hear from heaven, " What hast thou to do to de- clare my statutes, or that thou shouldest take my covenant in thy mouth 1" Thus, at every point, this doctrine comes to mar their reputa- tion, and make them hypocrites, and cover them with shame and blushing. Hence the Jehovah, who will give men this character, may reign in other hearts ; and the Bible, that will teach this doc- trine, may lie neglected ; and the ministry that will publish it, may starve : and the cringing multitude, who will believe it, may herd tooether, and together sink into the contempt they covet. Thus God is treated, and thus his word, and thus his ministers, and thus his people, because they maintain a doctrine, the sinner's disgust at which, establishes beyond the possibility of doubt, or the dan- ger of mistake. It so degrades the character of men, that they will not believe it, if they perish contradicting it. I could offer other reasons, why this doctrine has been so fre- quently assailed, but shall proceed to offer some reasons for esteem- i?ig it a very important doctrine. 1. The fact, that it is plainly revealed, testifies to its importance. God would not have cumbered his word with a doctrine of no va- lue. If we find it there who will venture to deny its importance % and if not there, how docs it happen, that those are its warmest ad- vocates, who are most familiar with the Bible, and most ready to regard its dictates 1 The context contains a very dark review of man's native character: and it would be infidelity to suppose it too highly colored. "There is none righteous, no not one : There is none that understandeth, there is none that seeketh after God. They are all gone out of the way, they are together become un- profitable ; there is none that doeth good, no, not one. Their throat is an open sepulchre; with their tongues they have used deceit; the poison of asps is under their lips: Whose mouth is full of cursing and bitterness. Their feet are swift to shed blood. Destruction and misery are in their ways: And the way of peace nave they not known. There is no fear of God before their eyes." Now we fearlessly assert, that this is given as the native character IMPENITENT MEN DESTITUTE OF HOLINESS. 315 of Jews and Gentiles, by one whom the Holy Ghost inspired, and who could not mistake the truth. Believe the last clause only, and tell me if in men, who have " no fear of God before their eyes," there is any holiness 1 " The carnal mind is enmity against God, for it is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be." Here again Christian honesty will read the same doctrine. And the same in this text, " The heart of the sons of men is full of evil." And in this, " The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked." And that none may escape, it reads ; " As in water face answereth to face, so the heart of man to man :" And thus the uniform testimony of Scripture. There would be no end in quoting the Scriptures on this important point, till I had re- ferred you to almost the whole Bible. And a doctrine about which God will say so much, must be, in his estimation, and should be in ours, of high importance. 2. The doctrine of the text is esteemed important, as it is one of the first truths, used by the Spirit of God, in awakening and sanctify- ing sinners. Till men see their depravity, they will not approve of the law that condemns them. They will be wondering, if, in- deed, they think at all, why God threatens them, and be blaming the law as too rigid in its requirements, and cruel in its penalties. Now there is no hope of a sinner, while he stands in this posture ; and nothing will move him from it, but a conviction of his lost and ruined state. Hide from him the character of his heart, and you seal him up to everlasting stupidity. You can arouse him to no apprehensions of danger, for under the government of a good God none are in danger but sinners. And there will of course be no re- pentance. A thoughtless sinner sees nothing to repent of, nor any reason why he should repent, and the man who knows nothing of his heart will not be thoughtful. The commandment never comes home to his conscience. If he has hopes of heaven, it will be on the ground of his own self-righteousness. Thus the Savior will be to him as a root out of a dry ground, without form or comeliness, and the work of grace can never be begun. Thus is the sinner, who is kept ignorant of his heart, sealed up to the judgment, and goes on as the ox to the slaughter, and the fool to the correction of the stocks. The Spirit of God will sanctify only through the truth, and the entire depravity of the heart is a first truth, without a knowledge of which no sinner was ever yet fitted for the king- dom of God. A gospel, then, if we must so call it, that hides from men the de- formity of their moral character, betrays and ruins them. It says 316 IMPENITENT MEN DESTITUTE OF HOLINESS. to the wicked, that it shall be well with them, and thus cradles their fears to sleep, till their period of mercy is past; and proves, ultimately, the greatest calamity that can befall them. It closes upon them the portals of eternal life, and keeps them dreaming, and fearless, till they open their eyes in hell. But when they at last make the discovery, perhaps on the bed of death, or it may be not till life has gone out, how will they execrate the recollection of such a gospel. It will come up to the mind as does the tem- pest, that wrecked all their hopes upon the relentless reef; or the fire that forced them to make a midnight retreat from the place that had been long their safe and happy home. The ministers of Christ would love to preach a smoother gospel, if men could only be safe under it. It would be pleasant to have to do only with the invitations, and the promises, and the hopes of the gospel. They had far rather remind the believer of the joys to come, than admonish the unbeliever of the judgment, the outer darkness, and the gnawing worm. They could have far more pleasure in describing the graces of the Spirit, than in portraying the deformities of the unsanctified heart. But the grand object of the gospel ministry is to save souls, and this object is not gained, unless men are taught, as the very first lesson of that ministry, that they are lost. Hence to suppress this truth, would be to neutralize at once the whole effect of this min- istry. Whatever we may wish, we can be the ministers of the Lord Jesus Christ to a ruined world, but on this one condition, that the alienation of our world from God hold the place of a first truth in every effort of our ministry. The gospel has absolutely no meaning, and can be of no use, but to the lost and the condemned . 3. The doctrine of the text is esteemed important, as it lies at the foundation of the whole gospel scheme. The Lord Jesus Christ came into our world, to seek and to save them that are lost, and the whole plan of salvation is so interwoven with this fact, as to be unintelligible without it. What means the covenant of redemp- tion, but in connection with the fact that we are captives and slaves, and need to be redeemed 1 what is there intelligible in the atonement, but that we owe ten thousand talents, and have nothing to pay 1 why urged to repent, but that we are in love with sin, and must otherwise perish \ why believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, but that we need a better righteousness than our own to shelter us from the wrath to come \ why make to ourselves a new heart, but that we have by nature evil hearts of unbelief inclining us to de- part from the living God 1 IMPENITENT MEN DESTITUTE OF HOLINESS. 317 And let me ask, why all the threatenings of the gospel, but that it was written for the use of a disobedient and gainsaying people 1 why on every page does there meet us some anathema, but that it was intended for those who love not our Lord Jesus Christ 1 why has death passed upon all men, but that all have sinned 1 why a judgment and a place of torment, but that those who have carried their entire depravity with them into the coming world, may be distinguished, and may go to their own place. Finally — It is matter of doubt whether an honest man, acquaint- ed with the Bible, and willing to collect his creed from it, will find ii possible to exclude the doctrine of the text from a fundamental place in its structure. What doctrine can he preach, if he denies it 1 what precept enforce 1 what threatening announce 1 what pro- mise apply 1 We need no gospel if this doctrine is not true, and we have none.. " Let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die." Will the great God defend his own truth, and bless every effort for its vindication, and sanctify his people through its influence, and speedily let it cover the earth as the waters cover the sea. Will he bring the multitudes of the ungodly to know, that they are in the gall of bitterness and in the bonds of iniquity, and persunde them to fly for refuge, to lay hold of the hope set before them in the gospel SERMON XXVII ONLY ONE TRUE GOD. JOHN XVII 3. This is ife eternal, that they might know thee the only true God In the report of that gospel, which shall deal honestly with dy- ing men, it is of the first importance that there be exhibited the true character of God. As men are to be sanctified through the truth, it will be confessed, that no truth can be of higher import ance, than that which relates to the being and attributes of Jeho- vah. Unless on this point there is made a full and clear exposure of the truth, our religion may be so defective, as to neither profit us in this life, nor save us in the life to come. Under the very names that belong to the true God, we may worship an idol, and thus give our depravity the shape of the grossest insult. We have sometimes listened to a loud and earnest address on the subject of religion, and it professed itself the gospel, in which the character of the true God was industriously concealed. Men may speak of God, and with much engagedness ; his adorable names may swell every clause, and round every period, and the whole be uttered with a decent ami well-bred softness ; and one may suppose himself religiously employed, in hearing the true gos- pel, and be charmed with the changes rung upon the names he has been accustomed to adore ; and still the God proclaimed may not be the blessed Jehovah. There may be a view exhibited that does not belong to the Creator, but to some imaginary god created for the occasion. The text would furnish several topics of remark, but I intend to confine myself to one, To expose some of the false views of God, which are not unfrequmtly presented to us under the appellation of the gospel ; and thus illustrate the character of that only true God whom to know is eternal life L There is sometimes an extolling of all the more clement attri- butes of God, as some have presumptuously distinguished, while the severer attributes are unnoticed. The design of these declaim- ers seems to be that our attention be fixed exclusively upon what, ONLY ONE TRUE GOD. 3 19 in their estimation, is soft and mild and lovely in God, while his ho- liness, his justice and his truth ; — all in him that can go to make a sinner afraid, or beget conviction and repentance, is industriously concealed. God's compassion for our lost and miserable world, his patience, his endurance, his long-suffering, his promptness to pardon, and total aversion to destroy ; — all those features of the Divine mind, that can soothe alarm, are early and industriously developed, as if embracing the whole of God that he himself loves, or man is required to worship and adore ; while the other parts of the divine image are obscured, as one would hide the scars and excrescences that have fortuitously covered more than half his visage. Thus the great luminary of the moral world must be cast into a deep and dark eclipse, that the naked eye of sense may gaze upon his few remaining glories. It is feared, we presume, that were the whole character of God exhibited, sinners would be filled with disgust, and be driven from the bosom of their Sovereign. He must not adhere to the principles of that law he has promul- gated, nor care to vindicate himself from the aspersions that sin- ners have cast upon his character and his government. He must not resolve that mercy and truth meet together 5 and that righteous ness and peace kiss each other. He must cast a smile upon the prodigal, ere he shall turn his face or his feet toward his father's house. Thus must the holy and righteous God, before whom devils tremble, melt down into the weak and pitiful parent, or not one of his apostate family shall come back to his bosom and his service. So men would judge. But God seems to have had other views, and has revealed his whole character, fearless of the predicted consequences. If there was any danger from a full exposure of his character, why did he not hold himself concealed, or throw into the shade, as men would do for him, those parts of his character that must give offence 1 If that be good policy which I am venturing to expose, God could have directed that neither the works of creation, nor the Bible, should have told us the whole truth respecting himself. He might have suppressed the history of that revolt in heaven, and its re- sults, and told us nothing of hell and the judgment, nor named in his Book those attributes that throw around him such an atmos- phere of darkness and terror. He need not have given us, if he had so pleased, the stories of the deluge, and of Sodom, and of Korah and his company. But God has exposed the whole truth, and that in the very Book which he has directed should be our daily companion. 320 ONLY ONE TRTE GOD. If the scheme I oppose be true, I know not how to account for such a Bible as God has put into our hands, just calculated to be- tray a secret that should not have been divulged for worlds. If there belong to God any attributes that were not intended to be made known to sinners till they are reconciled to him; if they cannot safely be told that he is angry with the wicked every day, has appointed a time and place of judgment, and prepared a deep and dark perdition for the condemned; if they are to be urged to come to him, expecting to find him all mercy ; then by what alarm- ing oversight have we resolved to put the Bible into the hands of sinners 1 Must the parental character of God so dazzle and fill the eye, as to eclipse the Sovereign, and the Judge, the Abettor of truth, and the Avenger of wrong and of outrage 1 And must we never know the whole character of God, till we have to deal with him in the judgment 1 Can we be sure that the prodigal, after he has been thus decoyed home to his father's house, will be pleased with his father 1 Had he not better know, while away in his land of exile, exactly, the father he must meet, and the father he must love, and stay there till his character is approved ? I know not where in the whole Bible we are authorized to ele- vate one attribute of God above another, and term the one mild and the other severe. I know not where men have learned, that there are principles in the Divine nature and government, that to be fully known would subvert the benevolent design of the gospel. If God has thus instructed any of his ministers, and they act by his authority in deciding what may and what may not be developed to the world of the ungodly, I have only to say, " To their own master they stand or fall." II. There is perhaps some occasion to fear, that some have gone into the opposite extreme, and have presented exclusively the more forbidding attributes of God, while his grace and mercy have been in this case too much concealed. When Jehovah is exhibited as constituted of entire sovereignty ; as doing his pleasure in the armies of heaven, and among the inhabitants of the earth, without the least regard to the happiness and the salvation of his creatures ; as casting after the wayward and the lost, no look of compassion- ate tenderness; — can this be a faithful exhibition of the character of God 1 Should it be said, That God is willing to show his wrath, and that he has created intelligent beings on purpose that they might be the vessels of his wrath ; and has communicated positive hardness to their hearts, because they did not render ONLY ONE TRUE GOD. 321 themselves depraved enough for his purpose; and pushed them on to a character, that would be sufficiently desperate for some deed of darkness, which he had resolved they should perpetrate ; — would one gather from all this the true character of God 1 I know that I have now presented an extreme case, and sincerely hope that not often, perhaps never, is sovereignty presented quite so bare and forbidding, and the truth pushed to an extremity so cold and cheerless. The objection to such presentations is, that they do not exhibit the whole character of God. He is willing to show his wrath, only where his mercy in Jesus Christ has been long and obstinately rejected. He created intelligent beings for his own glory, and will honor himself in their perdition, if by rejecting the Savior, they count themselves unworthy of eternal life. He has hardened their hearts by the very dispensations that should have won them to duty and to God ; has sent them strong delusions that they might believe a lie and be damned, when they did not believe the truth, but had pleasure in unrighteousness. We must pour into these strong exhibitions of truth, in order to render them the gospel, and make them useful, the whole charac- ter of God. How can you hope to persuade rebels to submit themselves to this bare and appalling sovereignty 1 Why must they become reconciled to their Creator, before they may even know that he is a God of mercy, or has it in his heart to bestow pardons 1 An apostle has said, " If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." I am not without my fears, that on this side of the line of ortho- doxy there has sometimes been presented a character of God, as imperfect, not to say as unsafe, as when only his clemency is seen. And who can say that God would not be as unwilling that one set of his attributes should be exclusively presented, as another 1 Under neither have we a full and honest portrait of the only true God, whom to know is eternal life. While the one error will lead unregenerate men to presume that they love their Maker, so under the other it is feared, that many true believers may be kept all their life-time subject to bondage through fear of perdition. The one will make a multitude of happy hypocrites, while the other will conduct to heaven whole churches of trembling, doubting be- lievers. The one will widen the fold, till the sheep and the goats can herd together; the other will contract it till many of the lambs must lie without, and be exposed to storms and beasts of prey ; and finally neither presents correctly the character of God. 41 322 ONLY ONE TRUE GOD. III. We have sometimes presented us a picture of warring attri- butes. Mercy triumphs over justice, and grace is made victorious over truth and righteousness. Under this system, God disapproves the properties of his own nature, and the principles of his own government ; and contrives to defeat and nullify his own decrees He issued his law, and pronounced it good, and made in it no pro- vision for pardon ; none he could make ; and when the sinner broke that law, he passed sentence, and threatened its execution. Hut he is now made to repent of the sternness, and integrity, and purity, that dictated that law, and uttered that sentence, and threatened its execution : and is ?-e-resolved, that, come what will of reproach upon his name, and injury to his government and king- dom, the sinner shall not suffer. He built a place of torment, and separated it from heaven by a bottomless gulf, and made it a dark, and dreary, and desolate abode; but he has since had better and milder views ; has decreed that ultimately the gulf shall become passable, the fires shall go out, and the worm shall die. And all this is contrived to save the Divine honor. To let God be what he is, and do what he has said, and carry into execution his own purpose, would, it is believed, so hurt his reputation with the population of the apostacy, that any thing, that can be, must be done to save it. There must rather be suspicion cast over the whole record that would exhibit God as so inflexibly holy, and reproach poured in upon the bigoted multitude that would so rigidly explain the word. The Book of God, plain as it is, may rather mean nothing, and John record falsely, and Paul reason in- conclusively, than to blot so foully and fatally the Divine reputation. To complete the picture, the Son of God is despatched from heaven to take the part of sinners, and shield them from the sword of a devouring justice. He saw, it seems, that the execution of the law would ruin the credit of the court, of heaven, which gave sentence, and hasted down to counteract the decree. What was stern, and unbending, and cruel in the Father, has been softened down in the Son. He covers the rebel with his hand, smiles on him, wipes away his tears, and prays him to forgive a father's un- jusl severity. His errand was to stay the rod of justice. He makes no atonement — none is necessary — asks no change of heart in the culprit, but a mere reform, as the condition of pardon and life. Thus has the character of God been so exhibited, as to involve heaven in a quarrel, and place the persons of the Godhead at issue, on the quest i< n, \vh"ther the honors of the broken law deserve to ONLY ONE TEUE GOD. 323 be repaired, or its Author shall sink into universal disrespect 1 "What in the mean time shall happen to the divine government in heaven, and in all the worlds that have continued loyal, and have had hitherto the utmost confidence in the unchangeably wise and holy God ? 0, I feel that the ground on which I stand is holy! Will God forgive me, if in attempting to vindicate his honor I have drawn near to him without being duly sanctified 1 I know that men who have resolved to go on in sin, who have long been offended at the purity and extent of the law, and would not care if all the rights of the Godhead were trampled upon, find it very convenient to have the character of God thus brought down to their taste and their temper. They will support and will love a gospel that will thus make God altogether such an one as them- selves. Give them a gospel like this, and in half a century there will not be an avowed infidel on the whole face of the earth Gladly would they be rid of the reproach of infidelity, could they have a gospel that would promise them a salvation equally cheap and convenient. If God will give out his word, and then break it ; will make a law and when men have fallen under its curse, repeal it ; will join t'.ie rebel in hating his own attributes ; will issue an edict, and then a counter edict by which the first is neutralized; this is all exactly as they would have it. God is invested with all the human weak- nesses. So Ahasuerus would make a decree, assigning to death all his Jewish subjects, and then enact another, directing them to arm themselves for their own defence, and thus his decree comes to the ground. But how will God be affected by these inroads made upon his name and his glory 1 Will he suffer his character to be tampered with, and finally to be thus frittered down to the taste and the convenience of a polished, and proud, and worldly, and time-serving generation 1 Will it still be eternal life to know him, altered thus, till not an angel in heaven would know him ! altered till all that devils disapproved, and that believers loved, is gone 1 Let me now ask the advocates of all these schemes, what they gam \ Why not be willing, that the blessed God be exhibited to the minds of men, in the very character that he gives himself. Let him be what he declared himself to be, on that occasion when it was his special object to make himself known : " The Lord, the Lord God, merciful and gracious, long-suffering and abundant in goodness and truth, keeping mercy for thousands, forgiving ini- quity, and transgression, and sin, and that will by no means clear 324) ONLY ONE TRUE GOD. the guilty ! visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children, and upon the children's children, unto the third and to the fourth Generations." Here we have, (if I may still use the terms which it grieves me to use,) the milder and the severer attributes of God. In this very character we must deal with him at last, the same that he was when he spoke to Moses from the cloud. Let there be a perfect balance among his attributes. Let him be neither too merciful to be just, nor too "just to forgive us our sins, and cleanse us from all unrighteousness ;" not too compassionate to be holy, nor too holy to smile again upon the rebel, who has fled for refuge to lay hold on the hope set before him in the gospel ; and too gra- cious to be true, nor so the friend of truth as not to reverse the sentence of death, when the condemned have repented and believed. God can have no darling attribute that shall eclipse the other por- tions of his character ; can issue no clashing edicts ; and did not send his Son to soothe, and flatter, and defend the rebel, whom his justice condemned, leaving him still in all his stubbornness and his pride. Why this zeal to create confusion in the counsels of the God- head, and sunder the attributes that cluster in Jehovah 1 Simply to srratify men who cannot be pleased with God as he is. But would they be pleased with God were his character altered \ They could not love an unjust God, unless indeed he would pledge himself never to treat them unjustly. And on ceasing to be a God of truth, he could not give that pledge. The sinner will reason, When God shall cease to be offended with me for wronging my neighbor, he will not be offended with my neighbor for injuring me. If / may hurt another, and escape with impunity, my oppressor escapes also. If / may prey upon the contents of his purse, and trample upon his rights, and sport with his enjoyments ; then is there a world let loose, to trifle with my interest, and make inroads upon my rights, and blast my comforts. Thus is there spread a ruin as wide as the whole creation of God. Angels lose their confidence in him, and all heaven is made unhappy, while the despair of the pit is changed for the hope or impunity. We assert then, that not the grossest infidelity, nor even atheism, holds out a prospect more dreary than a gospel, that thus libels the character of Jehovah, and, by one grand mistake- sunders the whole of this alienated world for ever, from the au- thority, and the rule, and the inspection, of an intrusive and dis- trustful divinity. And when the error is on the opposite extreme and the mercy ONLY ONE TRUE GOD. 325 of God is obscured, though a different motive may have led to this exhibition, and a different result may follow, still is that motive a mistaken one, and that result unhappy. God has not directed his ministers to keep the minds of his people filled with one or two selected attributes of his nature, but would have his whole charac- ter developed. Some may be deterred from embracing religion, from the impression that they must love a God whose character is cold, calculating, severe, and vindictive. And if sanctified under such a gospel, it is doubtful whether their religion will not be either gloomy and desponding, or coldly doctrinal and polemic. The character of God will not be found at last to have shaped itself to our mistaken views of him ; but will be, when we come to deal with him in the judgment, what it always was. The attri butes and the glories that may now be obscured, eclipsed or neu tralized, will all be there to cluster and harmonize in the burning glories of the Godhead, on the day of retribution. A God will then meet us as holy, and just, and true, as the law, and the light- nings of Sinai would make him ; and still as merciful and gracious, and long-suffering, as Pisgah, and Tabor, and Calvary have de clared him. He will confess himself in that day the Author of all the anathemas and all the promises of inspiration. Time will not have altered his character, nor the exigencies of betrayed and ruined souls moved him from a single purpose. There will gather in his brow all the majesty that makes devils afraid, and all the sweetness that makes angels glad ; the one will look the lost into despair, and the combined glories of the whole look the saved into ecstasy. Then will be felt the full import of the text ; the only true God will be known, and to know him will be eternal life. 1 have three reasons to offer for thinking this subject of great importance. 1. Men will have a moral character according with their views of God. As the truth sanctifies, just so surely does error contaminate, and no truths or errors so assuredly as those that relate to God They invariably pour their influence through our whole creed, and touch every spring of action. Hence if men think rightly of God, I cannot but hope that the truth will one day sanctify them ; but if otherwise I have fearful apprehensions of their ruin. The basest of men act from principle, though from bad principle. They are profane, and false, and lewd, and dishonest, because some false views of Ciod have begotten in them the hope of impunity. From 326 ONLY ONE TRUE GOD a loose ministry, or vicious parentage, or vile associate, they have imbibed the principles that go to mould their deeds and their habits into the image of death. You may pass down, if you please, through all the ranks of immorality, from the young man in the gospel, who loved t\ie world more than Christ, to the abandoned outlaw, and you will find as many different shades in their faith, as in the turpitude of their deeds. And every unregenerate man stands prepared to have his faith corrupted. He loves darkness rather than light, because his deeds are evil. He is on the watch to hear something said of God, that may assist him in loosening t lie bonds of moral obligation. Hence many a youth has issued from the house of prayer, modest, civil, and decent, fearing an oath, respecting the Sabbath, doing homage to religion, and giving high promise of future worth and usefulness ; but some wretch corrupted his views of God, and immediately he cast off* restraint, and went out to scatter through society firebrands, arrows and death. Hence, if we regard the eternal life of our children, and the youth in our streets, we shall furnish them a gospel, and a library, and give them that instruction which will lead them to a correct knowledge of God. 2. Believers will have a religious character according with their views of God. Nothing has been more obvious in the history of man, than the conformity of his religious character to that of the God he believed in and worshipped. Pass through the territories of paganism, and, such as you find their gods, such are their wor- shippers. Are they fierce, and jealous, and lewd, and bloody, 01 mild and placable, such invariably are their devotees. And as you come up through the lower grades of nominal Christians, ask them their views of God, and their answer will give you substantially the purity of their religious character. God is our highest object of respect and of imitation, and to be like him, the highest object of holy aspiration. Hence, if in our esteem his character is more or less pure and lovely, such we shall wish our own to be. He who sees in God no attribute but mercy, and never thinks of him but as a. father, will be less likely to hate sin, and less careful to be holy, than the man who thinks of God as a sovereign and a judge, as well as a father. And the case will be similar as to enjoyment. No false views of God will render us as happy as correct views. If we see only the mild and merciful traits of the divine character, we may have joy, but it will not be solid and lasting. And if we look at God merely m the attitude of sovereignty, and may never call him our Father, ONLY ONE TRUE GOD. 327 or see his mercy commingled with his terrors, we shall be for ever in bondage. There are no doubt many on their way to heaven, who are so injured by their creed, as seldom to pray any other but the prayer of the condemned and the lost. They are serious and watchful Christians, but never hopeful, and never happy: joint heirs with Christ, yet never venturing to say, Abba Father ! Nor will Christians who have partial views of God be useful. It is when he appears in all his glories, attracting sinners to him- self by the full view of his attributes, and, mingling mercy with judgment, reigns to make his creatures happy, that we feel our souls inspired to be workers together with him in extending his dominions. It is then that it seems to us a grief and a pity, that there should be any heart alienated from him, any hands that do not labor in his service, or tongue that does not speak his praise. Not the sovereignty of God alone, nor his mercy alone, can make the most useful man. The one holds back the inspiring influence of joy and hope, the other begets a religion that will all evaporate in songs and hosannas. Angels are inspired, by seeino- the whole of God ; and men will be more or less like angels, as " The God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, shall give unto them the spirit of wisdom and revelation in the knowledge of himself." Then it is that we feel it to be a reasonable service, that we pre- sent our bodies and our souls to him, a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable. 3. Society at large will shape its moral aspect from the prevailing views of God. As fraud, and falsehood, and blood, invariably follow the track of idolatry, and the dark places of the earth are thus fill- ed with the habitations of cruelty ; so in the different parts of Christendom, you may gather the prevailing notions of God from the morals of the community. Survey the darker territories of the Catholic communion, and tell me if in rapine and murder, their po- pulation is removed more than a single shade from the dreariness and desolations of paganism. Where in Christendom is life and property least secure ; where are daily assassinatious, where the whole population prepared for any deed of darkness and cruelty, but where there is least prevalent a correct knowledge of God. And let any one of the better territories of Christendom become apostate in their views of God, and how soon will vice spring up, the public morals be changed, the Sabbath be lost, the theatre thronged, and dress and vanity fill the place of sobriety and prayer! How soon will the true followers of Christ be persecuted, and fa- 328 ONLY ONE TRUE OOD. mily devotion, and Christian watchfulness, and all the retiring vir- tues of holier times disappear ! Thus you have my reasons for thinking this subject important. For these, and others that could be offered, I would watch the public creed relative to the character of God, more tenaciously than at any other point. It is the fortress I would starve in de- fending, the strong-hold into which I would fly with my children, and feel myself, and teach them to feel, that it is the only safe place to die. Will the blessed God make me far better acquainted with his character, and never subject me to the awful temptation, of think- ing it a light thing to either overlook, or give paramount import- ance, to any one of the glorious attributes of his nature ! Will he cause his name to be known in all lands, and make his praise glo- rious, wherever there are beings capable of doing him honor ! SERMON XXVIII THE INDEX SURE. GEN. XLIX. 10. The sceptre shall not depart from Judah, nor a law-giver from tetween his feet, until Shilofa come: and unto him shall the gathering of the people be. Jacob was now very near to the close of life, and had strong apprehensions that his end might be at hand. But he had yet to deliver to his children his dying benediction. He accordingly called them about him, and rehearsed to them the future history of their respective families, for ages to come. Of Judah he pre- dicted, that he should stand high in the esteem and respect of his brethren, should overthrow his enemies, and should bear rule over his father's children. He should come upon his enemies with all the strength and the daring with which a lion comes down from the mountains, seizes and bears up his prey, while no one dares to interrupt his course, or rouse him when he has betaken himself to rest. His land should be so abundant in vines, that he might fasten his beast to their branches, and wash his vestments in the blood of the grape. He should have a dominion so permanent, that nothing should interrupt it till the advent of Messiah, who should gather the nations about him, and hold the sceptre for ever. That part of this famous prediction, on which I purpose to en- large, has attracted the attention and confirmed the faith of be- lievers in every age since. We see here selected a single family, who for ages should constitute his Church, to the exclusion of all others ; with whom he would deposit his law, and all that was divulged of his purpose. One branch of this family should be honored above the others, should give birth to the Messiah, and hold the authority till he come. Thus the world shall expect their Redeemer, shall know where and when to look for him, and if pre- pared to recr ive him, shall be in no danger of imposition. The text is one of those scriptures that marked out the time when the Messiah should appear. By the word sceptre we are no doubt to understand the ensign or badge of authority. The word signifies a rod or staff v>\d 42 330 THE INDEX SURE hence came to mean a sceptre ; as kings, when they sat upon their thrones, used to hold in their hand a rod as a token of their author- ity. Hence, when Esther presented herself to the king, he reached out to her the golden sceptre. The text gives us no intimation when Judah should rise to dominion, but when he should take the sceptre into his hand it should not depart till the coining of Shiloh. We know that for a long time after the delivery of this inspired benediction, the government of Israel was not in the tribe of Judah. Moses, their first ruler, was of the tribe of Levi. The judges were of several different tribes. Saul, the first king, was of the tribe of Benjamin. But David, his successor, was of the tribe of Judah ; anddn him, six hundred years after the prediction, the authority commenced which is noticed in the text, and which continued till the coming of the promised Shiloh. The Jews, to evade the force of this prophecy, would have the word translated sceptre, to mean the rod of correction, which, they say, shall not depart from Judah till Shiloh come and liberate them. But this exposition is contrary, in the first place, to the whole tenor of the context, which assigns to Judah power, glory, and victory. It would be very singular if one clause of the bene- diction would give him the pride, the strength, and the indepen- dence of a lion, and another clause make him the subject of per- petual oppression. In the second place, this exposition would be contrary to matters of historical fact, which the Jews themselves would not have the folly to contradict. Judah was at no one period signalized as a sufferer. The rod of oppression came ear- lier, and fell heavier, and continued longer on the other tribes than on Judah. And as Judah is the only tribe that returned entire after the captivity, it would seem the only one from which the rod of oppression did depart. But it is only hatred to the light, that has led that unbelieving people to this interpretation. The ancient Jews, and all who have understood the language of the Old Testa- ment in its original, and have had no particular inducement to per- vert the text, have rendered the word sceptre. And the next clause still farther explains this, " Nor a law-giver from between his feet." It is natural that a sceptre be in the hands of a law-giver. But some have chosen to render the word scribe instead of law-giver, and would have us understand by it one who is employed in writing laws, either civil or ecclesiastical. If this rendering could be justified, it would not much vary the sense. But it is believed tha this rendering cannot be justified, as the THE IXDEX SURE. 331 Hebrews use for scribe another word. Hence the passage means, that there shall be in Jutlah, till the coming of Shiloh, a law-giver as well as the ensign of authority. The kind of government is not specified, nor is it important, as the truth of the prophecy will be evident, if it shall appear that there was in the tribe of Judah any species of authority down to the advent of the Eedeemer. That by Shiloh we are to understand the Messiah there will be little doubt. The word thus rendered is used only in this place, yet. is allowed bv all classes of commentators to refer to the Re- deemer. Some interpret it a peace-maker, a Savior ; others a preserver, a deliverer ; and others still, with greater probability, the sent, or one to be sent. This idea exactly comports with the attitude in which the Savior is presented to us in the Old Testa- ment, as the angel of the covenant, the angel Jehovah. Hence, in the New Testament, he is spoken of as him that was to come. The woman of Samaria said to our Lord, " I know that Messiah cometh, which is called Christ : when he is come he will tell us all things. Jesus saith unto her, I that speak to thee am he." The Jewish expositors are generally agreed that the text has reference to the Savior. Their quibble about the word which we render until, but dis- covers their weakness and their obstinacy. It is compounded of two particles ; one they render for ever, and the other because, and read the text thus : " The sceptre shall not depart from Judah, nor a law-giver from between his feet for ever, because Shiloh shall come." But beside that this construction is forced, it would not comport with facts, which they must all acknowledge. For while they generally deny that the Messiah has come, they will not deny that now the sceptre has departed from Judah. Some of them have been so cramped on this subject as to adopt the absurdity that the Messiah has come, but keeps himself hidden because of their wickedness. Thus men will make the word of God to mean any thing rather than not support their favorite scheme ; and when che text proves too obstinate to be resisted, will adopt the most improbable conjectures to prop the fabric of falsehood. But error is for ever thus changeable and uncertain. Like the fabled isle of Delos, it for ever fluctuates, nor can men or devils give it per manent location. !f one would be entirely certain that modern Unitarianism has no foundation in truth, he has only to compare the shifts of its advocates, with the endlessly varying conjectures of the Jews since the death of Christ, to rid themselves of the con- viction that he has already come and set up his kingdom. In 332 THE INDEX SURE. either community they hold you in suspense for ever. When they should inform what the text does mean, they only bewilder you with illusions, and brow-beat you with assertions of what it can- not mean, and must not mean, and finally, if they would be honest, what it shall not mean. Nothing but truth is plain and consistent : error is inconsistent, not only with truth, but with itself. I. Is it then a fact that there continued to be a sceptre and c law-giver in the tribe of Judah down to the time of the Savior 1 On this point a little inquiry will give, it is presumed, entire satis- faction. Down to the captivity there will be no doubt. And if during that period there should seem to have been a suspension of Judah's authority, still it is a fact that there was no transfer of au- thority to any other tribe. And if for that short space we could see no remains of authority, it should not be considered as nulli fying the prediction. Seventy years, in a period so long as that which intervened between the delivery of this prediction and the coming of Christ, would be too insignificant to be excepted in a general prophecy. But the fact seems to be, that the tribe of Ju- dah did hold its ascendency even during the period of their dispersion. We are assured that the king of Babylon took from prison, and treated with marked kindness, Jehoiachin, king of Ju- dah, thirty-seven years after his captivity ; and it is said that he set his throne above the throne of the kings that were in Babylon : and Jehoiachin we know was of the tribe of Judah. Thus the sceptre did not depart, even when that tribe had its residence in a strange land. Daniel too, we know, was of the tribe of Judah, and was made governor over the whole province of Babylon, and of course over the children of the captivity. And we have no reason to doubt but that the Jewish writers assert the truth when they assure us that the successive governors of the exiled Jews, con- tinued to be selected from the tribe of Judah and the house of Da- vid. So Zorobabel and Nehemiah are both said to have been of the tribe of Judah. And when afterward the civil power was vested principally in the Sanhedrim, still the sceptre must doubtless be considered as re- maining in the tribe of Judah. That the Sanhedrim had very great power there will be no question. That council was instituted by the Lord himself, an account of which we have in the eleventh chapter of Numbers. And they were not dispersed nor wholly disrobed of power up to the time when they sat in judgment on the Son of God. From the close of the captivity to the destruc- THE INDEX SURE. 333 tion of the temple, this body continued to be the great council of the nation. At first they were to be chosen from all the tribes, but after their return from Babylon, they were principally of the house of Judah, though occasionally of Levi and of Benjamin. But these two tribes were amalgamated with, and as it were, lost in the tribes of Judah, and whatever they might do was done by virtue of authority derived from the tribe with which they had be- come incorporated. Hence the sceptre did not depart. Even when the Romans appointed them a king, still the Sanhe- drim had large powers. Even Herod the Great was tried for his life before that court. If it should be said that their authority was in a great measure neutralized, when Judea became a Roman province, and an Idumaean was constituted their Sovereign, still it was not wholly destroyed. They long contended with Herod about the supreme authority, nor could they be prevailed upon to take the oath of loyalty till after the birth of the Savior. At the time of his arrest we find them still embodied, and sitting to hear evidence and pass judgment upon him who had come to be their king. True, they had lost the power, as we term it, of life and death, and might not proceed to the crucifixion till they had ob- tained the assent of Pilate. But although their power was evi- dently languishing it did not expire till Titus demolished the sanc- tuary. II. Our next inquiry is, whether from that period all authority did cease from the tribe of Judah. If this shall appear, then are we certain that the promised Shiloh has come. And whether in that case he be the Messiah, or some other personage, there can be but little doubt. That the tribe of Judah did actually lose all authority at that time, and has never recovered it, there cannot be a question. That tribe has never had since then any distinct existence. No descendant of Abraham will now pretend to tell you to which tribe he belongs. He may assure you that when the Messiah comes he will restore them to their re- spective tribes, but til then they remain by their own confession an undistinguished mass of Israelites. And there is no sceptre or law-giver among them. This will be acknowledged by every man who has any common acquaintance with history. Their condition is exactly the opposite of all that can be termed rule or authority. They are scattered among the nations of the earth ; have scarcely any of them a fixed habitation, and none of them the least shade of authority. There is hardly a kingdom in 334 THE INDEX SimE. the world, where they have not heen excluded, not merely from any share in the national government, but even from the com- mon rights of citizenship. The woes that Moses predicted, have fallen upon them, and they are cursed in the city and cursed in the field ; cursed in their bas- ket and in their store ; cursed in their children and in the fruit of their land ; cursed when they go out and when they come in ; and in all that they set their hand unto for to do. They have planted vineyards, and another has gathered the grapes. They have become an astonishment, a proverb, and a by- word. They have served their enemies in hunger, and thirst, and nakedness, and have worn upon their neck a yoke of iron. They have sodden and subsisted upon their own children. Their plagues and their sicknesses have been sore and wonderful. The Lord has seemed to rejoice over them to destroy them, and bring them to naught, and scatter them among all nations. They have found no rest to the sole of their foot ; have had a trembling heart, and failing eyes, and sorrow of mind. They have been in fear day and night, and have been sold to their enemies for bondmen and bond- women, till none would buy them. Precisely this has been their condition more than two thousand years. If Moses had written their history yesterday, instead of two-and-thirty hundred years ago, it had hardly been possible to pen it more correctly. Hence we .need offer no arguments to prove that the law-giver and the sceptre departed from Judah at the time predicted. Whatever pretence that wretched people may make, that some where, no one knows where, there is yet in that tribe the badge of power, and the right of legislation ; no man of common under- standing, and not blinded to the last degree, will listen for a mo- ment to such desperate arguments in support of their obstinacy and their unbelief. III. It remains that we inquire whether he who came, at the time when the Jews expected their Shiloh, has exhibited the sign given of him in the text : " Unto him shall the gathering of the peo- ple be." By some this clause is made to mean, him shall the peo pie obey, or to him shall the people hearken, and again, to hirr. shall all the kingdoms of the earth be subject. Hence Christ is styled in Hagofai, the desire of all nations. Now you remem ber that in the original promise made to Abraham, it was said, that in his seed, by which is meant the Redeemer, shall all the nations of the earth be blessed. Hence the Shiloh men- THE INDEX SURE. 335 tioned in the text, is he whom the Gentiles shall seek, whose instruction they shall receive, whose precepts they shall obey, to whom they shall be subject, in whom they shall be blessed, and to whom they shall be gathered. All this must appear in him who shall answer the description given in the text of Shiloli. We remember that very early in the gospel history, while yet salvation was scarcely offered to any but the Jews, the Gentiles seemed more ready than they to become his disciples. It is true that a few Churches were very early gathered among the Jews, but the principal success of the gospel was among the Gentiles. The dispersion that took place on the death of Stephen, seconded by the conversion of Cornelius, soon showed the world that the Jews had ceased to be God's people ; and that in every nation he that feareth God and worketh righteousness is accepted of him. Soon Churches were established in many places among the Gen- tiles, and from that day to this the gospel has been making its way through the nations, and the people have been gathered to the Lord Jesus. Now here lies the proof of his Messiahship, that the religion he taught, and the means he used to propagate it, should gather him disciples so rapidly and so extensively. And had there been no other proof that he was the predicted Shiloh, this one should have been sufficient long since to convince the Jews that he whom they still expect, has come. On the supposition that the Lord Jesus Christ was not the promised Messiah, and of course that no Divine power gives efficacy to his gospel, nothing can be more surprising than the promptness with which he gathers disciples. And this was the very sign given, "to him shall the gathering of the peo- ple be." Now if any Jews or Gentiles are not prepared to reoeivc him in the character of their Redeemer, they must account for the success of his gospel. It was never propagated with the sword ; it asks no support from human power and human law, but has made its silent way in direct opposition to the powers of earth and hell. The very nature of the religion of Christ renders its propaga- tion a proof of his Messiahship. It can adopt no system of com- promise with any other religion. It must be either rejected, or adopted as the only one that can bring men to happiness and God. The Savior is not to be worshipped in conjunction with Jupiter, and Moloch, and Diana. He must have the supreme regard, and every idol mus! be abandoned. Hence his religion, when it began its course, was at war with every other, in every town or city 336 THE INDEX StTRE. where it was attempted to be propagated, and the smallest success in these circumstances must have been a demonstration that its author was Divine And what is more, the religion of the Lord Jesus Christ found the bitterest enmity in every heart it attempted to subdue. It de- manded on its first presentation at the door of him it would redeem, that he be radically changed, that he love what he hated and hate what he loved. Hence our Lord would not deceive his disciples, but told them that he came not to send peace but a sword. Still with just such a religion as this, the Lord Jesus gathered disciples, and continues to gather them, while every native passion of the soul is at war with the Savior, and the doctrines it is invited to em- brace. The character of the Savior, when presented to the people that were to be gathered to him, was awfully forbidding. Aside from the consideration that he was the enemy of all sin and they totally depraved ; his humble ingress, the meanness of his parentage and his birth, and the ignominy of his crucifixion, all tended to render it wholly improbable that he should ever gain adherents, and still men of the most towering views became his disciples, even some of the members of the Sanhedrim. And what seemed an insurmountable barrier, he chose as the instruments who should propagate his gospel, men from the lowest walks of life, fishermen and tent-makers. These were to go and plead his name before kings and emperors. Still under all these embarrassments the people were gathered to him, and his religion spread throughout the civilized world. How then could the Jews, or how can the unbelievers in the present day, doubt that Jesus was the promised Shiloh, and that his own almighty power gave efficacy to his gospel 1 And when we consider again the state of the world, how exactly the opposite of that religion, unbelief is put to still deeper confusion. We can hardly read without a blush, the account that Paul gives us of i 1m* state of morals anterior to the gospel, among the very men to whom it was published. I will read you a part of that de- scription. He says, " ]\Ien were filled with all unrighteousness." (Rom. i. 29-32.) Now it was among just such beings as these that the gospel had to make its way. Such were the people that the Lord Jesus would gather to him, or if he failed, did not claim to be owned as the promised Shiloh. We are all ready to say that the Jews had no excuse for rejecting their Mes- siah. But let us not forget that the :ight which thus poured upon THE INDEX SURE. 337 the page of prophecy, and pointed out to the Jews their Shiloh so distinctly that we wonder at their unbelief, is still increasing. The council that condemned him, and the man who betrayed him, and the multitude who exulted in his agonies, had less evidence that he was the Son of God than we have, and had a better excuse for their unbelief than we. They had sufficient light to condemn them, but we have still more. They saw his gospel have some success, and were under obligation to believe ; we see it operating on almost all nations, and are under still increased obligation to embrace and love him. We all join to condemn the Jews for their unbelief, but it would not be wonderful if we perish under a more aggravated condemnation. 43 SERMON XXIX. THE INDEX SURE.— No. II. GENESIS XLIX. 10. The sceptre afial' nnt depart from Judab, nor a law-piver from between his feet, nntil Shiloft come; and unto him shall the gathering of the people be. We can conceive of few things in the creation in which there is more of the sublime, than in a prediction like this, given seve- ml thousand years since, and recorded for the successive genera- tions to read, while they witness its fulfillment. There is seen in such an object, concentrated all that wisdom and power that built the universe. He who can predict what shall be, must know, as is said of God, " the end from the beginning, and from ancient times the things that are not." And to foretell with certainty he must have power to bring to pass. It involves, too, a Divine pur- pose, by which all the events that are future are made certain. Under a government where things were left to the control of chance, or accident, there could be no such certainty, even if we suppose the existence of a mind that can foresee the most distant tracts of time. Hence, to contemplate a subject like this, gives to the mind a sublimity of elevation, and tends to fill it with ador- ing thoughts of the Creator. And still it feels its own littleness ; for where there is so much of God, all beside is insignificant and worthless. And there are no contemplations more calculated to soothe and comfort the believing mind. He who can know and predict all the events that will happen, can provide for his people in all the emergencies into which they may be brought. In illustrating the text, in the former discourse, it was my de- sign, first, to explain the terms; secondly, to show that there did continue a sceptre and a law-giver in the tribe of Judah down to the advent of the Redeemer; thirdly, to show that from and after that time there did cease all authority and power in that branch of the house of Israel ; and, finally, that to the Lord Jesus the people have been gathered, as it was predicted they should be, to the promised Shiloh. What remains now is, that we make some practical use of the whole. I would then THE INDEX SURE. 339 REMARK, 1. The subject will lead us to admire the Divine conduct. Where he requires faith, there he accumulates evidence in such profusion, that every mind not decidedly hostile to truth, must yield its as- sent. He had promised the world that he would send them a Re- deemer ; hence, when that Redeemer should come, he would re- quire all to receive him, and that their faith might not want for evidence, he poured in upon the man Christ Jesus, the concen- trated light of a thousand ages. And it ought to cover the unbe- liever with shame to know that such was the precision with which he was designated, that even devils know him. The first promise was, that he should be the seed of the woman. And at that time it would have been of no use to have made the promise more defi nite. At the time of the deluge it was rendered certain, without any specific promise, that the Savior must be of the family of Noah. But his family soon became so numerous, that the believer could not know where to look for the promised seed. He might be born near the spot where the ark rested, or in some far-distant isle of the ocean. Hence, God made choice of Abraham, and gave him the promise that in his seed all the nations of the earth should be blessed ; and directed him to go to that land, where he would still farther limit the line of descent, and where the Savior should himself be born. When Ishmael was born, Abraham doubt- less supposed that he was the promised heir, and he and the world might have looked for the Savior in his family, had not God given him another son, and promised that in Isaac should his seed be called. In ids family again the promise was confirmed to Ja- cob, and in his to Judah, and in his to David. This was the last limitation as to the line of descent, and the time of the promise was now so modi that no farther designation was necessary. Here, then, we see pointed out very distinctly the family in which the Messiah should be born. As to the time, it was to be, according to the prediction record- ed in Daniel, four hundred and ninety years from the going forth of the commandment to restore and build Jerusalem. It was to be while yet there was a sceptre and a law-giver in Judah * • The time of his coming was still farther designated by the appearance of John the Baptist: "Behold," said the last bat one of the prophets, in the very last words he uttered, " Behold, I send you Elijah the prophet, before the com- ing of the greal and terrible day of the Lord. And he shall turn the heart of the fathers to their children, and the heart of the children to their fathers, lest I come and smite the earth with a curse." And God himself assures us that this 340 THE INDEX SURE. As to the land of his nativity, this was marked out and conse- crated to the Lord ages beforehand, in the communications made to Abraham. But lest the extent of Canaan should still cast a cloud upon the promise, the very town was named in which he should be born : " Thou Bethlehem, Ephratah, though thou be little among the thousands of Judah, yet out of thee shall he come forth unto us that is to rule in Israel ; whose goings forth have been from of old, from everlasting." That still there might bo no room for mistake, the angels came from heaven to tell the shepherds that he was born, and to guide them to his humble lodgement. To the wise men of the east there appeared a star that moved before them, and came and stood over the place where the young child lay. Even the Roman emperor must be induced at that juncture to make a decree that all the world should be taxed, that that decree might operate to bring the blessed Mary from Nazareth to Bethlehem, previously to the birth of the Savior. Thus wonderfully minute were the pointings of Heaven to the infant Redeemer. And those who had not opportunity to visit his manger, might open the pages of prophecy and read there his character and his history, and rest assured that he who was reported to have been born in Bethlehem was indeed the promised Shiloh. He was to be peculiarly a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: des- pised and rejected of men. He was to bear our griefs, and carry our sorrows ; was to be wounded for our transgressions, and bruis- ed for our iniquities. When oppressed and afflicted he was not to open his mouth. Men were to cast lots for his vesture. He was to hang on a tree, but not a bone of him was to be broken. He was to make his grave with the wicked and with the rich in his death. It was even predicted, that men should buy the potter's field with the thirty pieces of silver, the price at which he was valued. After all this minuteness of prediction, how impossible does it seem that any one should doubt whether he was the promised Messiah. And how must we admire the Divine conduct and goodness in thus giving us many signs, when, if he had given us but one, he mighl have condemned us if we had not believed. It would seem that it must have been the purpose of God, that no promise ofElias mel its fulfilment in John." Thus, lest the precise time should not be recollected, one was sent before him, crying in the wilderness, "Prepare way of the Lord ; make his paths Straight." From the multitudes that came to hear him, it becomes certain that John must have given a very extend- ed notice that the Messiah was at hand. THE INDEX SURE. 341 nation or individual then or since, should be able to resist the flood of light that then poured in upon the Savior of the world, in every inch of his way from the manger to the tomb. Had his name been written the instant he appeared, on the disk of every star ; had the finger of a man's hand appeared instantly in every quarter of the heavens, pointing to the immortalized manger ; or had a voice said in every ear all that was told the watchful shep- herds, the evidence of the ingress of the son of God would hardly hav*e been more complete. It must not be forgotten that all these intimations respecting the coming Redeemer, had been written in a book, and lodged in the temple of God, and read in the synagogues throughout all the holy land, every Sabbath day for many hundred years ; and we can hardly believe that the report had not penetrated into every section of the globe, where there was a sinner to need an interest in the Redeemer's blood. 2. How provoking must it be to God, when, after all this, men reject his Son. To all who lived in Palestine, all will agree that the sin of unbelief was enormous. They were in the very spot where all this light concentrated. They had read the prophecies — had seen the signs — had beheld the events of Providence shaping themselves to his approach, and probably found it impossible not to know that the set time was come. Hence on them we should expect that there would fall a peculiar condemnation. And on them it did fall, and has rested on their children's children down to this very hour. The land itself has been given to desolation, and has withered under the curse ever since. It has become a hissing, a by-word, and a proverb. Its hills have lost their fertility, its fountains have been polluted, and its vines have withered. But if we suppose that none are guilty for rejecting the Savior but the Jews, we are as blind as they. There did shine, it is true, upon that generation who rejected him, a peculiar light, but the present generation of that people have far less light than the im- penitent of this age, and are less guilty. When they contemptu- ously spit upon the ground at the mention of the name of Jesus, they despise an unknown Redeemer, in imitation of the impiety of their ancestors. They are virtually heathen, and many of them have no more idea of God, or a futurity, than the idolators of inte- rior India. But the Bible and a preached gospel have poured upon every Christian land all the light that shone upon Judea, and more still. We have more convincing light than Herod had, that the Savior was born in Bethlehem during his rei^n ; and more than 34-2 THE INDEX SURE. Jiulas had that he whom Judas betrayed was the Son of God ; ana more than Pilate had, that he whom Pilate condemned will one day be Pilate's judge. In addition to the light they had, we have seen the gospel conquering the world in his name. We have seen the sturdi- est ruffians bowed and tamed at his feet. We have seen accomplish- ed many a prediction that he uttered, many a wo that he issued, many r curse that he threatened, and many a promise that dropped from his lips. Luminous as was the light that gathered about the Babe of Bet h- lehem, there have been pouring in ten thousand other streams ever since. Hence let no sinner conceive, that although it be nineteec centuries since the Savior died, there can be for him any escape from death unless he be washed in a Savior's blood. If he who drove the nails was cursed if he did not believe, he who now crucifies him afresh, and puts him to open shame, will meet a curse no lighter. No, it remains still a crime black as perdition to bar the avenues of the heart against the faith of the Lord Jesus. There is not a man to-day in Christendom, nor a lad, nor a child, that has learned who the Redeemer is, if he reject him to-day, who will not carry home with him guilt enough, if he dies unpardoned, to make him gnash his teeth for ever. Had no Savior been offered, you would only h ive had to answer for a broken law, but as many of you as are unsanctified have upon you the guilt and the curse of having slighted ten thousand overtures of forgiveness. And if you dare to die in this condition, you can make'the sad experiment, hut your grave will prove an avenue to the bottomless pit. 3. In view of this subject it seems no light matter to deny the Deity of the Son of God. How fearfully were the Jews destroyed because they would not recognize him as the promised Shiloh. When once the edict had gone out, "Let all the angels of God worship him," and God will not give his glory to another, the be- ing that will not obey must perish. He is either God or a crea- ture. But have we credulity enough to believe that there would have been all this display of prophecy and miracle, pointing to the birth of a worm 1 Must he be promised and proclaimed many thousand years; must there be a record made of his character while yet he has none 1 Must he make his ingress in the centre of the world, and in the most luminous spot among the nations? Must a long train of prophets vie with each other in doing honor to the mysterious personage ; and when he is born, be but the be- ing of a day 1 We have heard of "Ocean into tempest wroucht, To waft a feather — or to drown a fly," THE INDEX SURE. 343 but there are few who will impute to God such folly. But how like this must appear, to him who believes the Messiah was a mere creature — all that train of prophecies, that hyperbole of lanl ; and shall cut him asunder, and appoint THE WISE MAN WISE TOR FUTURITY. 351 him his portion with the hypocrites : there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth." Thus the office we fill may be suddenly vacated, and the account rendered cover us with everlasting shame. 4-. Death will level all distinctions. The king and the peasant will sleep together in the grave, the master and the servant, the man of science and distinction with the untaught and the vulgar. The family who can hardly speak with patience of their unpolished neighbors, and look with contempt upon their rude and illiterate servants, must become a supper for the worm, and must scent as odiously, and rot as rapidly, and perhaps be forgotten about as soon as the innocent objects of their affected disgust. There may be a more splendid funeral. We may hear at the mouth of the tomb a more labored and lying panegyric ; and there may be erected a more splendid, and perhaps a more lasting monument. But a few years will dissolve that monument, will deface its pom- pous inscription, and the bones it covers will appear as unsightly as any skeleton within the enclosures of the cemetery. To properly consider this fact, is to remember that it was God who elevated us, and that views us as none the more worthy be- cause of the distinction he has assigned us. It is our wisdom to be humble and mindful of death. Let us show the world that in our own eyes we are small ; that we can enter the cottage of the peasant familiarly ; can join him, if occasion require, in his coarse and homely meal ; can cheerfully bow with him at the throne of grace ; mingle our counsels and our tears, insensible of any dis- tinction for which we deserve respect, that we are not willing to bestow. We are forbidden to be wise in our own conceits, and are exhorted to condescend to men of low estate. One distinction only will outlive the ravages of death — that distinction is holiness. In the sight of God all others are temporary and worthless ; and if not counteracted by the humility of the gospel, will cover us with a deeper contempt, and subject us to a more degraded infamy in the bottomless pit. 5. Death will strip us of our earthly possessions. The lifeless corpse is not the owner of a farm, or the proprietor of a bond. He cannot even defend from the attack of the ruffian the little spot of earth that contains his ashes and his bones. The hour that strips him of life renders him as poor as at the hour of his birth, and as dependent for the shroud, as, originally, for the swathing band. To properly consider this matter, is to use our wealth for the honor of God, and in lessening the miseries of the apostacy. We 35;2 THE WISE MAN WISE FOR FUTURITY. may employ it to support and spread his gospel, to disseminate his word, to feed his poor. Some object of benevolent regard is for ever at our door, some good devised that we may execute, some cause laboring that we may lend our aid. We may have high ideas of our own rights, but we are all the Lord's stewards. He has commanded us to occupy till he come. We must very soon go out of office, and must then give an account of our stewardship, and happy for us if we have made friends of the mammon of un- righteousness, that they may receive us into everlasting habita- tions. But how many, when they shall be called to yield their in- terest, will find that their gold and silver is corrupted, and their garments moth eaten. If they have done any good with their wealth, it was by the merest accident : they meant not so, neither did their hearts think so, and they are seen to repent of all the good they have done, and of nothing else. They have fixed a dying hold upon their farms and their merchandizes, and the day that breaks that hold will be of all other days the most wretched. They have forgotten their latter end, and can be waked from the charm only by that stroke that sunders them from life. 6. As a distinct thought, I would suggest that death must bring all our schemes to a close. There is in some men a proneness to cast their thoughts ahead, and so interweave their projects, that it would seem they can never find leisure to lie down and sleep in the crave. They never calculate upon closing their concerns. There 'is scarce a moment, from the beginning of the year till it ends, that finds them sufficiently at leisure to worship God with- out distraction. Some scheme is in its embryo, and some other unfinished. And, finally, many a one is. but partially executed, when death throws in its arbitrary and fearful arrest. Then there must be a pause : the jaded spirit must rest, and the body retires with it. Cheerful or reluctant the world must quit its hold, and the stream of thought chill in its channel. And this event expected should teach us to limit our views, and to moderate our hopes and wishes. It would be wise to calculate that somewhere not very distant from us, there is opened a grave athwart our track, where we must stop and rest, and beyond which, if we extend our schemes, they but die on our hands, or remain •for others to finish. " There is no work, nor device, nor know- ledge, nor wisdom, in the grave whither we hasten." And perhaps nothing would so tend to make us lower our hopes, and limit our worldly calculation, as to place the solemnities of our own funeral at but a few months remove from us. If we place it too near no t THE WISE MAN WISE FOR FUTURITY. 353 evil could follow ; while, if too remotely, a train of disappoint- ments and miseries follow, the weight of which it will take a whole eternity to calculate. 7. Death will finish our period of risefulness. " It is that night when no man can work." All the good we ever do must be soon done, or is left undone forever. All the good counsel we ever give, all the prayers we ever make, all the miseries we ever re- lieve, all the progress we shall ever make in the pursuit of truth, and all the honor we shall ever do to God, must be done soon. And it seems to me that no thought is so calculated to wake us to industry. " Whatsoever thy hands find to do, do it with thy might," is the very inference to be drawn from the shortness of time. If any man is a knave, it is he who is willing to die before he has been useful, who is willing to feed upon the bounties of heaven, to gather about him the fruits of the earth, and to lavish them upon his own indolence, and leave God to publish his own praise by other instruments. Our obligation to do good is as un- alienable as the authority of God is binding, or the fear of misery appalling, or the hope of glory inviting. Have we then done all the good we have purposed to do \ Have we no dying friends to whom we would communicate instruction or comfort before they leave us \ Ts there no object of charity to which conscience may have given some pledge not yet redeemed 1 By the sure and speedy approach of death, we are admonished to haste and finish our work, lest we should leave it for others to neglect as we have. 8. Death will finish our character, and close our accounts for the judgment. We are probationers for another state, and our char- acter here will decide our condition there. It is believed that life will furnish the materials on which the judgment will proceed, the varied tests of our character, and the reasons of our acquittal or our condemnation. The thoughts and volitions of the dying bed will constitute the closing items of that fearful account which we must render to the judge of all. To give this thought its due importance, we should often exa- mine our state, and inquire if we are ready to be judged. Is the Lord Jesus Christ formed in us the hope of glory 1 Shall we ap- pear, if we quit the world this evening, clothed in his righteous- . ness ! Else no works of ours will avail to procure our acceptance, and ruin is as certain as the judgment. Haste, then, if you would be esteemed wise, rmd set your house in order, against the hour of your dissolution. Mortify the deeds of the body, wake the mind to industry, and rouse the heart and 13 354 THE WISE MAN WISE FOR FUTURITY. the conscience to energy of feeling and action in the work of grace. Collect your friends about you, and make one more effort to do them good before every tie tliat binds them to you is sun- dered. Fill the office assigned you with fidelity, and use your in- fluence to promote the honor of your Redeemer. Cultivate a meek and lowly mind ; be familiar with your own worthlessness ; use your wealth for the honor of God,and in doing good, to a mise- rable world. Limit your prospects by the grave; have your work done ; your character formed for heaven ; your sins forgiven ; and your pollution covered with a Savior's blood. Then death will not surprise you, and the grave will become your refuge and your friend. II. To properly consider the circumstances of our latter end is to act wisely. If while we proceed, worldly men, whose every interest is in this world, should draw the inference that they are acting unwisely, and playing the fool with their own best good ; this is precisely the effect we always wish to produce, and shall rejoice to find that they can reason so well on a subject of such amazing importance. Under every sermon men ought to be con- vinced that they are acting a mad and desperate part, while they neglect all the hopes of the life to come, and deposit all their trea- sures on the surface of this perishing world. The man who should place all his fortune in a burning building, or embark with his whole interest in a sinking ship, would not act more unwisely. I remark, 1. That God has pronounced it wise to consider our latter end, and apt with constant and careful reference to the life to come. This is precisely the sentiment of the text, and of many other scrip- tures which pour their light upon the same truth. "If a man live many years, and rejoice in them all, yet let him remember the days of darkness." Said the Lord to Israel, " Oh that thou hadst hearkened to my commandments! then had thy peace been as a river, and thy righteousness as the waves of the sea." How often is it said of the wicked, that although they were warned they would not be wise1. " I have called, and ye refused ; I have stretched out my hand and no man regarded ; but ye have set at naught all my counsel, and would none of my reproof; I also will laugh at your calamity ; I will mock when your fear cometh. When your fear cometh as desolation, am! your destruction com- eth as a whirlwind ; when distress and anguish cometh upon you : then shall they call upon me, but I will not answer ; they shall seek THE WISE MAN WISE FOR FUTURITV. 35?) me early, but they shall not find me : For that they hated know- ledge, and did not choose the fear of the Lord : they would none of my counsel ; they despised all my reproof: therefore shall they eat of the fruit of their own way, and be filled with their own de- vices. For the turning away of the simple shall slay them, and the prosperity of fools shall destroy them. But whoso hearkeneth unto me shall dwell safely, and shall be quiet from the fear of evil.'" 1 know that we are forbidden to be anxious for the things of to- morrow, but this text, instead of teaching the contrary, teaches the same doctrine. We are not to be anxious for the things of this life, which we may need for our support tomorrow. We are to be " anxious, not for the meat that perisheth, but for that meat which endureth to everlasting life." We are so to use the mammon of unrighteousness, that when we are put out of our stewardship, we may have a friend who will receive us into everlasting habitations. Thus God himself, who cannot be mistaken, has declared it wise to look well to our future prospects, and " lay up in store against the time to come, that we may lay hold on eternal life." 2. The wisdom of such a course is inferred from the fact, that in all other things we consider it indispensable. If we have in view any worldy enterprise, we, as far as possible, anticipate the concern in all its bearings, and weigh, before we meet them, every ombarrassment and every obstacle, that may be at war with our purpose. We bring before us the darker side of the picture, as well as the brighter, contemplate every passion, and every interest with which we may come in contact, and press the eye of the mind forward to meet every feature of the probable result. Is one about to leave the place of his nativity, he does not move, if he is wise, till he has carefully surveyed the country toward which lie bends his wishes and his hopes, counts the cost of his intended enterprise, weighs the probable advantages of the removal, and is prepared to meet, without surprise, every failure that can lie with- in the reach of probability. Thus worldly men constantly manage the concerns of this life, and the Scriptures assure us, that they are wiser in their generation than the children of light. Would we pursue the same measures relative to the life to come, God would approve. It would be a source of conduct becoming a wise and thinking man. We should then look forward and survey :>ll the circumstances of our departure from this world, the state of our hearts, the probability of our composure, and our acceptance in the hour of death, the ties that must then he broken, the titles that must then be lost, the olfice that must he resigned, the d'Stinc- 356 THE WISE MAN' WISE FOR FUTURITY. tions that must then be levelled, the possessions that must be relin- quished, the exertions that must terminate, and the pause that must ensue to all our schemes. We should live with the whole scene before us, and often summon the mind to bear, with all its native energies, upon that most interesting epoch of our history. I knew a man, who, for years, kept his coffin in his chamber, often placed himself in the narrow house, and often contemplated the scenes of his interment, and thus kept himself familiar with the hour of his dissolution. Now should we not, without resorting to such means, practice the same forethought, and thus, if possible, have the terror of death broken, before we are called to the last and desperate contest 1 What argument can be offered why this concern should not be the subject of meditation, rather, far rather, than the erection of a dwelling, or a removal to some distant country. The wise, who go out to meet the bridegroom, will be careful, not only that their lamps are burning, but that there is oil in their vessels with their lamps. 3. To make death a matter of previous calculation, is necessary to the promotion of our temporal interest, and that of our heirs. If one may die before his plans are executed, and is strongly im- pressed with this truth, he will conceive none but such as another can carry into operation. This would be the dictate of wisdom. He will hold his concerns in such a state of order and arrange- ment, that he can, at a moment's warning, hand over his records and his wealth, to be managed and enjoyed with the smallest pos- sible embarrassment. And such a state of things has always been considered favorable to present interest. And can any thought be so calculated to further this arrangement as the strong impression of a speedy and sudden departure. Let a man keep his concerns in such a state that if death arrest his course, nothing is deranged, nothing obscure, nothing neglected, and he will be the man whom no minor event can distract or destroy. If, then, we would male our calculations merely for the present life, to often contemplate the scenes of death, would further, unspeakably, this one interest But some may feel that this is an engagement too sordid to have weight on a point so momentous. I observe, then, 4. That to well consider our latter end will tend to forward our preparation for the scenes of death. We all, in a sense, know that we must die; but this truth makes so little impression, ordi- narily, that we may be said to doubt it. Young says, " All men think- all men mortal but themselves." Should a stranger from THE WISE MAN WISE FOR FUTURITY. 35"J some world where they never die, glance his eye upon this, he would not have the most distant conception, that we had any fear of such a change. He would see us so managing our concerns, as if we calculated to be the perpetual proprietors of the soil we cultivate, the merchandize we handle, and the dwellings we oc- cupy. In this state of things the thoughts of death are excluded, and consequently all preparation for that hour is deferred. We have too many cares to give death, and hell, and heaven, and the judg- ment, any permanent lodgement in the mind, and too many sublu- nary affections to leave room in the heart for more sublime attach- ments. The course, then, that wisdom would dictate, is plain. Let the mind be emptied of its cares, and let the heart dismiss some of its beloved objects ; that they may be better employed in pondering the scenes, and fixing a grasp upon the objects of abet- ter life. Thus we should be drawn nearer to the scenes of eter- nity, should feel that its interests demanded our care, and should be led to speed our preparation for a dying hour. We are thus urged to the subject, by all that heaven is worth, by all that is shocking in a hopeless death:bed, and by all that is black, and dark, and dreadful, in the untold horrors of the second death. If we hold an unbroken grasp upon the present life, and the present world, till we have come to the precincts of another, it must not surprise us if our dying lips are heard to utter this melancholy outcry, " The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and I am not saved." We may have our heaven here if we can stumble on such a wretched choice, but then, all beyond is hell ; or we may deposit our treasure in heaven, and in that case gather many of its com- forts on our way thither. Wise men have always thought much on the subject of death. Read the history of the patriarchs, and prophets, and apostles, and how often do we see them, as it were, wandering amid the scenes of the tomb. They contemplated the event of death, as worthy to occupy a prominent place in every scheme of life, prepared themselves a sepulchre, and gave commandment concerning their bones, with the same calmness as when they thought of other events. Solomon and David seemed to feel themselves nobly em- ployed in describing the scenes of the dying hour. Locke and Newton, men of the noblest genius, esteemed the present world as but their temporary residence. And if the frequent contempla- tion of a great subject is evidence of a creat mind, men may not hope to evince their wisdom by dismissing the subject of death, 35S THE WISE MAN WISE FOR FUTURITY. and the grave. Compared with these, all other subjects are small and mean. Am I to drop this body, and enter an unknown world, and find a far different state and different employ ; these are great and grand ideas that deserve all the strength of the mind, and all the energy of the heart in their slow and prayerful contemplation. Does death finish my character, and fix my destiny, and place me unalterably in paradise or perdition ; 1 have not a care so worthy to occupy my intellect, nor a scene in contemplation on which I so much hang my hopes, and about which cluster affections so wor- thy the dignity of my immortal nature. " 0 that they were wise." You have known cases, when men, occupying the same prison, were under the same sentence of death. You entered their apart- ment on the morning of their execution. One was sporting in his chains, as indifferent to the scene before him as if no crime had been committed, and no judgment had been given. You was ready to presume, that he did not know that his last day had come, and, when undeceived on this point, did you not instinctively, pro- nounce him a fool 1 His fellow sat solitary in the corner of his cell, casting his eye along the pap^e of inspiration, and when he saw you he fixed upon you a look of wishfulness and of agony, and exclaimed, " This is my last day !" Did he not then exhibit a dignity that commanded your tearful respect 1 The one intended to postpone the cares of death till he perished, the other pondered the scene as it approached, and when the last day had come, could think of nothing else. From the one you turned with disgust, the other you honored. Yes, and we have the same impression, when we meet with men of these opposite characters in the streets, that you had when you entered the precincts of that dungeon. The one will not speak nor permit us to speak of any world but this ; the other gladly accompanies us to the death-bed and the judg- ment. The one we honor, and the other we pity. We know that both are condemned by the law of God, and that both must die, and be judged, and have their state unalterably fixed, and live in glory for ever, or lie down in " shame and everlasting contempt." We feel that it would be wise in them to lay these things to heart, and speak of them as amazing realities, and they sink in our esti- mation if we see them reluctant to cast a look beyond the sepulchre. • REMARKS. 1 Men are sometimes afraid to think of death, presuming that such thoughts are a pre' ude to its approach. 1 believe it is often THE WISE MAN WISE FOR FUTURITY. 359 impressed upon their minds, that to converse with the scene would absolutely urge on their dissolution. But we shall die a one the sooner, if we often contemplate the solemnities of our departure. Nor will death stay his progress if we push from us all thoughts of his advance. In the counsels of heaven there is an appointed time when we shall receive our arrest, and the places that know us shall know us no more. Why then be afraid to meet the thoughts of futurity, and to converse with the grave. We have a preparation to make. If nothing is yet done, then no other subject should engross the mind till something is. Will a wise man culti- vate his fields, till he has made some effort to have his heart fruit- ful in the affections of the gospel! Will he be careful for an es- tate, till he has laid up his treasure in heaven ! Will he adjust his accounts with men, and feel no concern to settle the quarrel, and have the debt cancelled, that stands against him on the records of his Maker! Will he regard the esteem of men, and make no effort to wipe from his character the almost indelible stigma which sin has stamped upon his moral reputation! There is no other concern worth your care if God is your enemy. Be this the first, and be this the only care, till that tremendous controversy is happily adjusted. •2. Sometimes men are afraid to think of death, because they know that they are not prepared. They are scared at their own condition. I recollect to have seen it stated, that much of the city of Paris is undermined by a quarry, now improved as a cemetery, where moulder the ashes and the bones of its former gay anil thoughtless population. Fears have been entertained that it might one day sink into that deep and fearful sepulchre. A slight shock of an earthquake might be sufficient to break the deceitful incrus- tation upoji which they revel, and under which they are destined to rot. Lest any should take alarm at their frightful situation, I am told, there is a law of the city forbidding its inhabitants to ex- plore the vault that yawns beneath them. Thus sinners covet the calm that arises from ignorance of their true condition. But blind- ed as they may keep themselves to their real danger, their condi- tion remains the same, and the pit which they may industriously cover still waits to receive them. One would think it more wise to endeavor to know the worst of their case, and if on an impar- tial survey it shall appear desperate, aim to secure, while it is pos- sible, their future safety and blessedness. But be the danger of delay more or less imminent, they still covet a little more sleep, a little more slumber, a little more folding of the hands to sleep. If 360 THE WISE MAN WISE FOR FUTURITY. the result of their delay is perdition, all this danger they intend to Tisk. 3. Others, perhaps, refuse to consider their latter end because conscience would then urge them to fly from the wrath to come, and render them unhappy, if they still urged their way to death. Hav- ing by some means or other come to the monstrous conclusion, that religion would render them miserable, they have barred their minds and their hearts against all its claims. Hence every argu- ment, and every thought that may suggest an argument, and every object that may awaken such a thought, are barred from every possible approach to the mind. In this condition no meditations are so painful, as those by which the mind approaches the unseen world, and gently lifts the curtain that hides futurity. If men- should act so madly in their worldly concerns, they would merit a cage, a chain, or a guardian. They fly from their best friends, abandon their highest interests, and linger on the shores of death from the impression that to live for ever would render them wretched. 4. To all but those who reject a Savior, the meditations of death and the grave are pleasant. Here is a period to all their pains, their toils, their fears, and their doubts. In death they drop this dying body, and leave in the grave the last relics of corrup- tion. All beyond is life, and joy, and immortality. There, for the first time, the good man will have that view of Christ which he has always longed to enjoy, and be himself what he has always wished lo be. Hence the good man often finds the pulse of his joy quick- ened by conversing with the grave. To him it appears closely connected with the life and the joys to come. Where the sinner finds nothing but corruption and misery, he gathers hope, and joy, and life. To him, to live is Christ, but to die is gain. How de- lightful when we can thus think of death, divested of its sting, and of the grave as a kind covert from the storm, a shelter and a home for the way-worn pilgrim. APPLICATION'. I have called your attention, my dear friends, to this subject, be- cause I know not how soon you or I may yield this transitory life. A few past weeks have made, in many of your families, deep and fearful ravages. God is speaking to us by these events, and the text is the very language they utter. " O that they were wise, that they understood this, that they would consider their latter end." If God is heard when he speaks, it is well; and if not, he THE WISE JON WJSE FOR FUTURITY. 36] will speak again and again. Have we resolved to turn our feet to his testimonies ( Will professors of piety closely examine their hearts and their lives, and inquire whether they have been born of God, and are bringing forth fruit meet for repentance 1 May we see prayer in all their families, and piety in their daily conversa- tions/ Will those who have no hope that their state has been altered relax a little their care of the life that now is, and give themselves leisure to attend to the things that belong to their peace, before it be hidden from their eyes 1 Will parents deter- mine to go home, and set their house in order, and prepare to leave their families and their estates for ever 1 May we hope that the close contemplation of the grave, to which we are invited, may urge us all to cleanse our consciences from guilt, to application to God for pardon, and make confession and restitution wherein we have wronged or abused our fellow-men. It will be dreadful to come to the death-bed with a conscience burdened with sin, and feel in that painful hour the miseries of self-condemnation. We all have a conscience, and never is it so likely to gnaw and devour as when some sudden attack of disease shuts us out from all inter- course with the world. Then, if our miseries do not forbid, the busy mind will retrace our past life, and perhaps bring upon that hour the compunction which it should now be our wish to feel, and the anguish which then we shall not know how to endure. Is our peace made with God 1 Are we making that use of the gospel which was heaven's design in its publishment 1 Are we becoming sanctified through the truth 1 Or is the gospel more likely to be a savor of death unto death to us, than of life unto life \ Are there any of our youth who are beginning to inquire after a Savior and a pardon 1 May we hope that believers are feeling as they should do relative to those who are perishing around them'? Are they staying the hands of their pastor, and pouring into the ears of their Redeemer that effectual, fervent prayer of the righteous, which "availeth much. I have hoped, and so have others, that God was about to pour us 'out a bless True, there stand some frightful apprehensions in the way of such a blessing. But God, if he ever returns and leaves a blessing be- hind him, must receive us before we are worthy. There never will be that moment when he will not see enough in us to provoke him rather to destroy us than to save us. Hence our only hope is that he will have mercy upon us, according to his loving kindness, and according unto the multitude of his tender mercies. 46 SERMON XXXI. THE DESPERATE EFFORT. MATTHEW, XI. 12. The kingdom of heaven Bllfferetb violence, and the violent take it by force. I remember to have been very much affected with a scrap of civil story which I met with in the history of the Greeks' escape from the iron bondage of their Turkish oppressors. After being robbed and plundered some hundreds of years, they at length at- tempted to escape. The enemy had, for some months, closely besieged Missolonghi, and the Grecian band had concluded to sur- render ; but as there was nothing for them but servitude, or death, they finally concluded not to be taken, but to rush into the fort at the desperate moment, and blow themselves up. Their purpose fixed, and the light of Greece about to be extinguished for ever, there was one young man who, with his sister, concluded to watch the favored moment, and rush out of the fort, and sell their lives as dear as possible, and make their attack where the ranks of the foe were the thinnest. They did so ; and the sister being mount- ed upon a mule, fought side by side with her brother, and both were so inspired by their desperation that they hewed themselves a passage, and made their escape, and lived to tell the story. Their settled purpose was to die, sword in hand, or spill all the Turkish blood they might, and live. Thus men must determine to put forth, in the effort to reach heaven, all the energy they can muster, and if they do this, they shall live. I suppose this to be the very spirit of the text, which reads in the original, "Agonize to enter in at the strait gate." I was similarly affected by a narrative of the escape of a post- man, who, for a very large reward, attempted to carry a letter across one of the deep glens of Scotland, through an overwhelm- ing northeast storm. He had been, if 1 remember right, a shep- herd, and fearlessly set out on the enterprise, while many were filled with apprehension for his life, if the storm did not subside. The weather was excessively cold, and the violence of the storm rendered il impossible to see any track of man or beast, through THE DESPERATE EFFORT. 363 the whole glen. The only chance of a safe arrival consisted of some knowledge he had of the ground, where he had many a time driven his flocks in summer. But, as he afterward assured us, one may have a very accurate knowledge of the way in summer, while, in a winter storm of snow, at night, the whole way seems like a trackless ocean. It is said that some of those glens in Scotland are so full of snow in winter as not to thaw out in midsummer. His courage, as the storm thickened, and the cold increased, would have failed, hut at length it became as doubtful whether he could find the way back, as whether he should succeed in crossing the mountain ridge in safety. As he had to cross many a small stream, now filled with snow, he not unfrequently sunk, and wet his feet in the stream, and on bringing them up again to the cold air, they froze, and at length became so disabled that he could rise on his feet no more, and he had to press forward on his kne well as he could. From some indications, he concluded that he had well nigh crossed the glen, and might, by lifting up his voice, be heard. He cried aloud for help — a lost traveler! — but cried in vain. At length he became frozen to his knees, and he could only worm himself onward with his hands, for he knew that when he should cease all exertion, he must immediately die, and there was a possibility that his cry might be heard, and he should live. Hence he raised again and again his cry, a lost traveler ! But at length, a little opening of the storm showed a shepherd's cot at hand. He had not missed his way to the cottage of a shepherd which he sought, and easily wormed himself to his very door, and gave the signal that saved his life. His friend opened to him and built a fire, and warmed him into recollection and recovery. But if that man had not persevered after he had frozen his feet, and even after he could no longer travel on his lower limbs, but had to worm his way on his elbows, he must have died. Although he was near the shepherd's cot, yet as he did not know his posi- tion, if his resolution had failed for a moment, and exertion had ceased, he must have died. He agonized to live, and his agonizing saved him. And if we will only thus agonize to live for ever, we shall live for ever. There is not an enterprise we undertake that requires so much exertion as to reach heaven. Those who conclude that they know enough of the subject already, and that heaven will come as :i thing of course, and fold their arms and slumber on, will die in their sins, and never see the Kin. God has given you a mind, and if not now the most bril- liant, it might perhaps be such in heaven. The rough block of marble may embosom the most beautiful specimens of polished and useful workmanship. Your mind, could it once be placed in the school of Christ, and afterward in heaven, might claim, for aught you know, a blessed elevation among its ransomed choirs. Unclog it, and none can say but it may yet vie with angelic pow- ers. And God might then employ it, we know not how, in the loftiest enterprise. We do not believe that heaven will be a place of idleness. Some new anthem may perpetually elicit more de- light through all the heavenly courts. Some new means of doing good to that world, or this, or some other, may from time to time arrest the attention of angels, and secure the co-operation of all the holy assembly. Such, we may suppose, was the visit of Ga- briel to Daniel ; and such the song of angels, heard by the watch- fid shepherds, at the birth of Christ. None can say that the Re- deemer may not employ, in administering the government of this world, the very beings he has redeemed from it with his blood. O sinner ! we regret that you should be lost, for we know not how useful you might be in heaven. 5. You should try to be saved also, because you could be so happy in heaven. Even in this poor world there is enjoyment. THE DESPEKATE EFFORT 367 How much greater will be our bliss in heaven, uheie all obstruc- tions to our happiness will be removed. There will be no unhal- lowed passions to be excited. No pain will there arise from anger, wrath, malice, envy, ambition, covetousness, pride, vanity, lust, jealousy, or revenge. There will be no natural body to hunger, thirst, faint, and tire ; to suffer pain from frost, or heat, or famine, or pestilence, or wound, or bruise, or mutilation, or death. There will be no foe to hurt your character, your interest, your feelings, or your person ; no rival to hate, or inferior to despise. There will be in heaven no sun to scorch, or storm to destroy, or moon or sun to be eclipsed, or sky to be clouded Suppose all this, and how much of life's misery is gone. Add now to the removal of these obstructions every positive good that an Almighty God can bestow; a mind fully illuminated, a heart the seat of every kind and holy affection, a conscience ex- onerated from o-uilt, an imagination unlimited in its power of con- ception, a judgment that can never err. Let there be presented to the admiring view all that is lovely, all that can be included in the golden city, the rivers, and the tree of life, the banquet of the Lamb, "the far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory," the everlasting song, the uninterrupted rest, and the society for ever of holy men and holy angels. All this would render you so happy, that we cannot endure the thought of your being lost. Try then to be saved, that you may be happy in heaven. 6. What others have done for your salvation should induce you to try to be saved. The plan for your redemption was laid in heaven. To accomplish it, the Son of God became incarnate, lived a life of sorrow, and died on the cross, and now ever lives to make intercession for you. How much he must have cared for your soul ! In the achievement of the same plan of mercy, the Holy Spirit was sent from heaven to awaken and sanctify you. He has often strove with you, lias produced alarm in your con- science, and perhaps deep conviction ; has given the truth some- times a fixed lodgment by the side of your heart. Thus has he evinced his readiness to save you. And his ministers, loo, have long and earnestly pleaded with you. In many a sermon, unless you have absented yourself from the house of God, they have pleaded with you to "flee from the wrath to come, and lay hold on everlasting life." And they have sometimes fell an agony for your soul, that, it would seem, could not be denied. They have prayed for you many n time in the midnight hour, and then have come from their closets and wept over you — and all. it -'.'ems, to no purpose. 368 THE DESPERATE EFFORT. It may be that a pious parent has long cared for your soul. Through the fear that you would be lost, that faithful friend may have wished many a time that you had never been born. O ! could you have known the anxiety and the agony of that parent, while watching over the slumbers of your cradle, then you would try to be saved. And it may be that a pious brother, or sister, or wife, is at this moment pleading at the throne of grace for your salvation. And will you not then care for yourself, and try to be saved 1 All this care for you — and you none for yourself! 7. You should try to be saved, because you must be infinitely degraded in hell. You are to remember, that you were made a lit- tle lower than the angels ; that you have a nature capable of being elevated to a close companionship with them, and of pouring forth a praise as noble, and glowing with a love as ardent as theirs. And now to think of sinking with such a nature down to hell, of being the companion of devils, and of employing your lips in unceasing blasphemy, — how gloomy the conception ! There will be, in your case, the shame of being convicted, and that be- fore assembled worlds, and of being banished into outer darkness, where is weeping and gnashing of teeth. And your fall from the hope of heaven must be known. You must be for ever congre- gated with the meanest of your race, the thief, the robber, the murderer, the swindler, the liar, the drunkard, and the whole mass of convicts. And your employment will be suited to the temper of your heart, and all restraint removed. Hence despair, and blas- phemy, and malice, and revenge, will be the habitual and the de- graded exercise of the damned. Hell will be the grand prison of the universe, where will be col- lected the incorrigibly wicked, the smoke of whose torment will ascend up for ever and ever, marking out the place as the most ac- cursed spot in all the dominion of God. The ignominy of such an imprisonment, and such a damnation, if there were no positive punishment inflicted, no quenchless fire, nor never-dying worm, would be more than can be endured. " Can thine heart endure, or can thine hands be strong in the day that I shall deal with thee V 8. You should try to be saved, because the most bitter reflections await you if you are not saved. You will reflect how much was done to save you ; how much the Savior did , how much the Fa- ther did ; how much the Spirit did ; how much your Christian friends did — all to no purpose. You will reflect how many ser- mons, and prayers, and tears, and entreaties, and Sabbaths, and THE DESPERATE EFFORT 369 sacraments, and admonitions of conscience, and revival seasons, and alarming events of Providence, have spent their force upon you to no purpose, hardening you, when perhaps they might have saved you. You will reflect how easy were the terms of salvation ; that you were offered life if you would only believe ; that no truth was re- quired to be believed but that of which you had evidence, and no duty to be done but that which would have been pleasant ; that your life, if yen had believed, would have been more happy, your death tranquil, and your eternity glorious. You will reflect how nigh you came to the kingdom of God, and was lost. Born in a Christian land, of Christian parents, the Bible early in your I and you as early taught to read it, given up to God from your birth, instructed carefully in the truth, and furnished with theSab- bath, and all its holy appendages — it will seem to you, for that you sunk down to perdition from the very threshold of heavei. You will reflect how many, with no more, and perhaps fewer ad vantages than you, have escaped to heaven. Your brother oj sister, it may be, was saved, while you were lost. Some, perhaps, your immediate friends, of wicked families, and having nothing like the advantages that you had, have reached heaven, while you have been lost. Shall these bitter reflections prey upon you like a famine, or a pestilence, for ever ] 'Will you not try to be saved \ " Strive to enter in at the strait gate ; for many, I say unto you, shall seek to enter in, and shall not be able." 9. You should attempt now to be saved, because the longer you postpone, the less is the probability that the attempt will ever be made. Whatever are the reasons of the postponement, they are reasons furnished by depravity, and will, of course, increase with the growth of sin. If it be enmity to the kind and lovely Savior, it will multiply with your years, and ripen with your age. If his eternal excellences have never yet won your heart — if the glories that have attracted the gaze, and waked the song of angels, and been echoed in notes of victory through the caverns of death, have produced no thrill of joy in your soul, how can you hope that, as hi.s glories shall become brilliant, and the notes of In- quest shall wax louder and louder, your spirit will become sub- dued \ "Will it. not rise in its wrath, and envenomed at length like the serpent that has plunged its fangs into its own life-s- its own damnation, and lie down in fire 1 Wait not till heaven has raised another shout of victory ; stay not till Christ has conqtl the gods of China, or quelled the demons of Hani's dark empire, 'est his glories should pierce your soul through with rhe poisoned 17 370 THE DESPERATE EFFORT. arrows of everlasting chagrin. 0 wait not to have the Hero of Calvary put forth any hidden glory of his name ! Devils will taunt the sinner that waits for this, and is damned. His laurels wave already over their dark empire, and their king quails at His power, mid dies anew, whenever another, and still another victory is sung. 10. Or do you postpone embracing the Savior, because you have not yet had your fill of sin? Surely it has made you miserable enough. Your satiety, after a scene of pleasure, has sometimes been almost insupportable. When it threatened your health, or your character, or your business, to continue any longer in sin, how indescribable have been your sensations of regret ! You wished you had never loved sin, or learned to sin; you wished that your parents had early restrained you; you regretted that you had ever formed an acquaintance with that man who tempted you to sin ; that you had ever been in that circle whose bewitching snares have caught you and held you ; that ever you visited that scene of dissipation, or went to that house of death. How horrid, to be filling up life with these regrets, and to pore unavailingly over what should be at once repented of and abandoned ! How grovel- ling, to be howling upon your bed, when, if you would only be in- genuous enough to repent, you might be lifting up your voice in praise, and be singing on your way to the grave, songs sweet as ano-els use. The meanness of sin will render it impossible that the lost should have any respect for themselves, or for each other in the world of death ! How utterly vain the expectation, that there shall be in that world anything worthy to be called society, or kindness, or friendship ! 0, it will be all a mass of despair, and chagrin, and hatred, and shame; when, if men would only be wise now, and accept the offered Savior, all this might be exchanged for heaven, where kindred spirits might bask in everlasting sun- shine through all the years of the existence of the unchanging God. REMARKS. 1. But why does God make it so difficult to get to heaven 1 Does he delight to put poor human nature upon such a pain- ful effort with no specific design ! We suppose that God has a wise and good design, and that his design may be obvious. To make such a mighty effort to reach heaven will greatly enhance the joy of being saved. O, when the effort is made, is over, and the object won, with how much joy may believers look back on all the way that God led them to his kingdom. When they shall tie wilderness all trodden over, every sin and every foe suh- ;'•...,! nml every snare escaped, and look upon the heavenly route THE DESPERATE EFFORT. 37] from the heights of Zion, they will sing the more joyfully to the honor of him who led them by a right way, that they might go to a city of habitation. How joyfully would that Grecian pair raise among their countrymen, the long and loud Te Deum to the God of armies ! when there had so few escaped and yet they had es- caped, and when they had found themselves the only two who had sold their lives at any price, and they had brought life away with them in all its vigor and in all its youth, life to them would seem more lovely. 2. If we have taken joyfully the spoiling of our goods ; knowing in ourselves that we have in heaven a better and an endurino- sub- stance, and through much tribulation have come where that trea- sure is, and find it ample and abiding, heaven will always seem worth more for the cost of it. We always value most what cost us most ; and if heaven cost us more than everything beside, we shall proportionally esteem it. When the whole family of the re- deemed shall have vied with each other through ten thousand ages, in the effort to see which can set the highest price upon the ex- ceeding weight of glory that shall have been poured in upon their glorified spirits, they will not have reached the price or told the value. Its price is far above rubies One will value that world highly, because, in competitorship with a million of his generation he out-did them all in the effort to keep fanned up the flame of holy love in his heart, which held him ready for a renewed conflict on the bed of death with that enemy who goes about as a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour. Another and another will throw into their song of victory the joy of an exemplary youth, made so by the constant application of the Holy Ghost, which rais- ed them above the lusts of the flesh, the lusts of the eye, and the pride of life. One lovely mother will sing of a reviving season, in the even- ing-time of life, which threw by, and passed over, the storms that had gathered about the place of her setting sun, and gave her joy in death. Thus one, and another, and another, when they shall have fought the good fight, and finished their course, and kept the faith, and have found laid up for them in heaven, a crown of life, will unite to say in one eternal chorus, God is the King ! The one hundred and forty and four thousand that have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb, will grace the marriage supper, and utter in a long and loud response, " This is the Lord, we have waited for him and he will save us j this is our God ! we have waited for him and we will be glad and rejoice in his salvation." SERMON XXXII CONCIO AD CLERUM. 2 TIMOTHY I. 8. Be thou a partaker of the afflictions of the gospel. Most other parts of Paul's instructions to Timothy, have been, at times, the foundation of address to God's ministers ; but this, to my knowledge, never. The opinion is, that Paul wrote this epistle some twelve or fifteen years after the date of the first, near the close of life, and while a prisoner at Rome. It contains his dying- advice, given in view of the assurance that his departure was at hand. Timothy was his own son in the gospel, and he expresses for him a peculiar affection, and deals out paternal advice, in a dress the most kind and amiable. The exhortation in the text is somewhat singular. Did Timothy need to be exhorted to become a partaker in the afflictions of the gospel 1 Did it depend on his choice, whether he would, or would not, be a partaker in those afflictions 1 Was it desirable that he stand ready and willing to suffer 1 Was it honorable or necessary to be afflicted in the discharge of his duty, if he might escape 1 To all these questions the text implies an answer in the affirma tive. It is more than possible that he saw Timothy tempted to deny his father in Christ, now that he was in bonds. The enemy would tauntingly say, This is the proselyte, and the pupil of that Paul who has gone to Rome in bonds. Hence Timothy, as Peter on a former occasion, would be in danger of saying I know not the man. He might thus hope to escape the cross, and might fear that other- wise chains might be fastened on himself, as a man equally dan- gerous with his master. Hence he exhorts him as in the text. But the exhortation is not of private interpretation, and will ap- ply to the people of God, and especially his ministers, in this age. as readily as in any one that has gone by. In what follows I shall notice some of the all! id ions of the gospel, explain the import of the exhortation, and urge upon the ministers of Jesus Christ the duty of becoming voluntary partakers in these afflictions. CONCIO AD CLEROI. 373 I. I am to notice some of the afflictions of the gospel. In doing this, however, I shall rather dwell on the causes of these afflic- tions. 1. The ministers of Jesus Christ must form and defend an un- popular character. I am aware that efforts have been made to show that the ministers of the gospel, and the people of God generally, need have nothing about them peculiar, and I am aware, too, that many, professing godliness, have made the experiment of being, in their whole deportment, what the world are. And it cannot be denied, that they have been, in that case, greatly caressed by the world. " If ye were of the world the world would love his own." Can we but flatter as adroitly, and dress as gaily, and joke as fa- miliarly, and laugh as loudly, as the most thoughtless of the mul- titude, they will cease their complaints. With the minister of the gospel who can shine in the party, and advocate the dance, and make the game innocent, and the theatre chaste, and every other vain amusement harmless, the world will have no quarrel. Not the most profane, or proud, or gay, or voluptuous, will have any fault to find with him, when he ceases to reproach them. Let him in company keep back the subject that would give offence, and suppress the dissent that would be unwelcome, and bless whom the world blesses, and rebuke whom they abominate, and the world will pronounce him a fine, a charming fellow. Let him associate with the gluttonous man, and the wine-bibber, and not carry to their house and their table, the hard doctrine, and the pointed re- buke, and the distinct condemnation, and the zeal for his heavenly Father's honor, which characterized the sociality of Jesus Christ, and they will agree to love him. And I have not my eye now fixed on the ministry in its gross- est aspect ; a ministry whose whole piety is a kind of charity that was not born in heaven, and has neither creed nor conscience. I do not associate such men with the ministers of Jesus Christ. But in that better school, where truth is held in high estimation, and charity is not sightless, and fellowship has gospel boundaries n is feared that men may be found who are at great pains to avoid the afflictions of the gospel. If they speak of hell, it is with an apology; if they describe a bad heart, they " hope better things of their audience;" and if they are driven to rebuke a vice, they do it so tamely as to make no impression. Hence the world love them, and feed them, and rally round them, and admire their prayers, and their oratory, and enter into close leagues of friend- ship with them. But whether such was the character of his mm- 374 CONCIO AD CLERUM. istry, who came from heaven to publish salvation, demands a doubt. The ministers of Jesus Christ must form an unpopular charac- ter. They must be more serious, more holy, more circumspect, more watchful, and prayerful, and heavenly-minded, than the world would choose to have them. They must adhere more tenaciously to the truth, to sound maxims and correct principles, than other men ; must be emphatically " a chosen generation, a royal priest- hood, a holy nation, a peculiar people." The traits of character which the world are prepared to eulogize, they are obligated to lash, and equally obligated to have on the very traits that give the world offence. They must be in character and conduct like their Master, having a conscience that will not bend to the exigencies of the moment ; a sternness of virtue that cannot allow iniquity a smile, a fixedness of sentiment that looks every unhallowed maxim into shame, a regard to the Divine glory that can sometimes wield the surge of rebuke, and drive iniquity from its presence. They must have on a holiness of character that can move on through the ranks of sin with unbending course ; and command, by its self- respect, the reverence of the very men who would exterminate so stern an integrity. And the character they cultivate in themselves they must sus- tain in others. The members of their churches must know that living as Christ would have them, they shall receive no reproach from their pastors, for not becoming, in the perverted meaning of the apostle, all things to all men. They may still put on all the amiableness of the gospel, and show out the benevolence, the meekness, the kindness, the hospi- tality, and the ardency of friendship, that piety requires ; and, finally, leave nothing to give offence, but the sternness of virtue But in conjunction with these, there must be, in the ministers of Jesus Christ, traits of character, that the men of the world will not admire. Hence none of the prophets, nor apostles, nor Jesus Christ himself, could show kindness enough to atone to the world for their holy singularity. They partook largely in the afflictions of piety, and went most of them to heaven from the cross, the sword, or the flames. 2. The ministers of Jesus Christ must teach unpopular doctrines. They must show the very nun who feel themselves to be whole, and in no need of a physician, that they are poor, and wretched, and miserable, and blind, and naked. They must exhibit the atone- ment of Christ to the very men who would perish rather than trust CONCIO AD CLERUIM. 375 in him, as the only foundation of their everlasting hopes. The men who are prepared to say, What lack I yet \ must be pressed with the necessity of being born again. The very men who can see little or nothing wrong in their whole life, must be assured, that except they repent they must all likewise perish. And the decrees, and the sovereignty of God, that so exalt Jehovah, and so debase the rebel, must be urged upon the very men who have so little confidence in their Creator, that they would not place the smallest temporal interest at his disposal. And how can such doctrines be popular with such men 1 I know you will refer me to facts, and inquire, Why are there so mnny congregations who have an orthodox ministry, and still all has been harmony for half a century, while yet there have been few or no conversions 1 In this case I have an answer that per- fectly satisfies me. The truth has never reached the conscience. It has been so tamely exhibited, that men have slept under it Now it is the duty of Christ's ministers to cure this insensibility, and in doing it, just as sure as God is true, there must be given a new heart, or the unwelcome intruder will be made a partaker in the afflictions of the gospel ? Compel a stupid man to feel the force of his own creed, and he will be as much offended as when you press upon his conscience doctrines which he has long hated, and long since discarded. I know there is a ministry which I dare not term heretical, but which gives no offence by its doctrines. The fact is, that the doctrines, though not denied, are never distinctly exhibited. -Men care not what they hear, nor what believe, if they may be permitted not to feel nor act. Only suffer them to sleep on, and you may lecture from the Shaster, the Koran, or the Bible. Let it suffice that they be quiet and orthodox, and they care not if it be the quiet of death, or the cold orthodoxy of the grave. But let the truth drop from the lips of an honest ministry, and be pressed home with energy, upon " consciences that have not been sprinkled from dead works to serve the living God," and that ministry will soon become conversant with the afflictions of the gospel. 3. The minister of Jesus Christ must urge upon the world un- popular duties. It is a great mistake that men are any less dis- pleased with the duties than with the doctri?ies of the gospel. Let duty be fully explained, and pressed home upon the conscience with energy, till men shall see no retreat from its obligations, and no press of doctrine, the most offensive, can give any keener pain, or be more sure, where God does not seal the word by his Spirit, 376 CONCIO AD CLERUM. to awaken the keenest displeasure. Make the man who never prays see the impiety of his neglect, and repeat to him that note of alarm, " Pour out thy fury upon the heathen, and upon the fami- lies thai call not upon thy name;" and you will soon discover that he feels himself as uncomfortably urged, whenever this duty is named, as when a doctrine which he does not believe, or does not love, is pressed upon his faith. Urge upon the covetous man the duty of giving liberally, no matter what the object, and he will writhe more under the press of this duty, than when urged to believe the most odious doctrine. Urge home upon the conscience, no matter what duty, that men are unwilling to perform, and you offend them equally, as when you teach a doctrine they are reluc tant to believe, and in either case draw upon yourself the afflictions of the gospel. But the duty, as well as the doctrine, may be so tamely and so prudently named, as to produce no sensations. If men are asleep, and you do not so lift up your voice as to wake them, they care not whether the babbler utters a duty or a doctrine. But this would not have satisfied Paul. If he might have preached in Athens the true gospel, unmolested, but must have seen that people continue their idolatries, he would have felt that he was doing nothing. It is doubted whether doctri?ie or duty was ever urged home with gospel energy, but the result was, the believing of the doctrines, and the doing of the duty, or the great offence of the man upon whose irritated conscience they had been urged with unwelcome vehemency. Hence, again, the afflictions of the gospel. k The minister of Jesus Christ must advocate in his Church an unpopular discipline. Here let us stop to solve one problem. The men of the world are perpetually reproaching professors of godli- ness for their sin. Urge religion upon them, and they will reply, " I am in as fair a way for heaven as your Christians." And often we find it no easy matter to repel the charge. We lie down under it, and reply, " Truly there are men, without the pale of the Church, as generous, as pitiful, as public spirited, as hospitable, a- quiet, as peaceable, as kind, as neighborly, as some within/' u Wc know," they will say, "that we do not pray as often, as loud, and as long, as some of your hypocritical professors, but all this we more than balance by our other virtues." Now from all this it would seem their wish, that the Church were more pure. Surely they would have reformed the. very thing they complain of. But the very moment the Church com- mences a course of discipline, with any wayward brother, the CONCIO AD CLERtTM. 37T world arms itself against all their efforts. Ai i often 's there raised without the Church, an opposition that would deter the Church from attempting to purify her fellowship. And the minis- ter of Jesus Christ is understood to be on the side of the Church's purity. Hence he becomes the butt of rebuke, with all those who would shield the offender ; and should he be passive, even to a fault, still he must bear the whole blame of the process, and be- come often the scape-goat that bears away into the wilderness the sins of the whole brotherhood. Thus he becomes a large par- taker in the afflictions of the gospel. We are now prepared, II. To say that the exhortation of the text implies two things. 1. That we so minister in our holy office, as to make sure to ourselves all the trials that faithfulness, in a world like ours, must incur. We must form the very character the ungodly disapprove, nor be willing to lack its most odious ingredient. We may not lay aside for an hour, that sobriety, that spirit of dissent from error, that honesty which holds the tongue the sure index of the mind, that elevation of the affections which shrinks from a supreme engrossment in the conversation and the cares of the life that now is. We may not conceal the features of the new man, and be reli- gious in secret only, or when in the company of God's people The world would agree to this. Can we but act the mere gentle- man in their society, and faun and flatter as they do, and ever smile and be happy, whatever the conversation, or sentiments, or temper, or men with whom we come in contact, this would satisfy them, and we might be as religious as we please in our bed-cham- ber. But such was not the course of Jesus Christ, nor yet of Paul, even when he became all things to all men. There must go with the man of God, visible as the features of his face, the strong outlines of his heavenly character. After all the allowance has been made that can be, for the difference of character and conduct that may exist between the disciple and his Lord, still, in a world like ours, all gay, and thoughtless, and dissipated, we arc obli- gated to put on so much of the Lord Jesus Christ, and wear the lineaments of his image so prominent as to ensure us a share in the reproach that fell on him, and must help others to do the same; and must pour the whole mass of our influence into a mighty effort to make the whole Church of God as unlike the worM as possible. 48 378 CONCIO AD CLE RUM. We must feel obligated to draw upon ourselves the reputation of sustaining an unpopular creed. We are obligated, I know, to give offensive truth the most ?moffending aspect, and may exercise all the wisdom we can summon in descrying the Tempora molia fandi ; but when all this is done, still the whole truth, first or last, must come out, fully and plainly, and, when distinctly seen, will not be approved by ungodly men. And the odium felt toward the truth, will be promptly transferred to the man who enforces it upon the irritated conscience. Now the faithful minister of Jesus Christ may not attempt to shun the trials that will thus ensue. It must be his wish, as soon as possible, to give the truth all that plainness of exposition, and point of application, which will ensure the trials that follow. He may not keep the offensive doctrines out of view, nor exhibit his creed obscurely, nor throw in any salvo to prevent the truth from taking a rank hold, or so conduct that his daily lightness shall neutralize his Sabbath-day efforts ; else he wickedly shuns the afflictions of the gospel. And with the same decision must he urge the unpopular duties of the gospel. He may not keep them out of view, nor present them obscurely, nor invent excuses for neglecting them, nor lavish his smiles upon the man who uniformly stands aloof from them. The precepts of Jesus Christ in all theii self-denying, and expensive, and laborious, and holy, and unpopular attitude, must be promptly exhibited, as claiming the obedience of a world. And the duties of the Bible thus fearlessly exhibited, will as surely convert men, or offend them, as the doctrines. The matter of fact is, that the precepts imply the doctrines, as well as the doctrines the precepts ; and the man who urges home upon the conscience the hated duty, no less than he who exhibits the odious creed, must calculate, unless the disciple be above his Lord, to be a partaker of the afflictions of the gospel. And he must be known to be the advocate of a watchful disci- pline in the Church of Christ. He may be as adroit as possible in dividing the odium with the members of his Church, it should be their wish to be partakers with him, but when he has lain hid, and others have operated, as long as possible, the hour will at length come, in every bad case of discipline, when he must have an opinion of his own, and express that opinion, and make proselytes to that opinion, and it will be against the conduct of the offender, and will draw upon him the odium of one who needed the rod of discip me to make him decent. And the offender has friends whe COISCIO AD CLERUM. 379 will enlist with him, and feel with him, and hate with him, the min- ister of Christ, who led on his Church to the act which covers the Christian character of the offender with a cloud. Indeed it would be wrong, if it might be so, that a Church of Christ should bear, without the countenance of their pastor, the reproach of having administered a cruel censure upon a professed follower of Jesus Christ : Hence no escape from the afflictions of the gospel. 2. The injunction of the text implies, that when our brethren in the ministry have taken the course now described, and have drawn upon themselves the afflictions of the gospel, we stand by them, and defend them, and encourage them, and take, as far as may be, a part of their trials upon ourselves. I have suspected this to be the burden of the exhortation. The aged apostle exhorts Timothy not to be ashamed of the testimony of the Lord, or Paul his pri- soner, but to be a partaker of the afflictions of the gospel, accord- ing to the power of God, He must participate in the trials endured by his Father in Christ for his faithfulness in the dispensations of the gospel. Let it not be said that the offence of the cross has ceased. I know that Christ's ministers are not now in danger of the same kind of persecutions as in the days of Paul. They do not fear dungeons, or faggots, or chains, or wild beasts, or the bloody cross. They may apprehend other woes however, as the lash of slander, the want of bread, the permanent enjoyment of a peaceful home, and the means of educating their offspring. And who would not avoid these by a more desperate effort than would be made to es- cape death itself. I know, too, that faith can lift the mind above a host of trials, and render the hour of desperate onset a time of triumph, and make these light afflictions, which are but for a mo- ment, issue in a more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. I know, too, that many ministers, not reputed unfaithful, escape the trials I speak of. There are no pointed exhibitions of truth, no extra efforts to save men from death, no energy of discipline, no- thing to break in upon the dead calm by which a multitude of souls are cradled into the profoundest slumbers. And the result is, no revivals, not much growth in grace, and, of course, no dis- order. And men, under such a ministry, often sleep so sweetly, that any voice which shall wake them, even the voice of the Spirit of God, is unwelcome. Now such a ministry, I know, will escape trials, and will need none of our sympathy. Pastor and people will plod on, till he is snitched to heaven, and they scattered upon ?80 CONCIO AD CLERTJM. the mountains, or gathered and saved at length under a bett.<». ministry that will need our sympathies. III. I shall now offer some reasons why the ministers of Jesus Christ should participate with their brethren, in the afflictions that arise from a. faithful discharge of their duty. 1. To sustain our brethren when they are in bonds for the gos- pel, is a duty we owe to Jesus Christ. He sent them to preach his gospel, assuring them that they went out as lambs among wolves, and promised to be with them even to the end of the world. And he makes good his promise, and is with them, and is a partaker in all the afflictions they suffer for his sake. Would we then do him honor, we must sustain whom he sustains, and sympathize with those who cannot compromise the honors of their Master to escape the cross. Permit me to say, as a minister of Jesus Christ, that I ask of the world no greater honor, than to be considered a prompt partaker in the afflictions of every ambassador of his who suffers for his name's sake. 2. It is a duty we owe to our brethren. If we are the faithfu ministers of Jesus Christ we all belong to the same embassy, and are obligated to kindness, not merely from Christian affection, but from that endeared brotherhood begotten by the additional rela- tionship of office. Hence, with regard to every minister of Jesus Christ, I am bound, either to dispute his commission, or prove him a traitor to his Master, or stay his hands when they hang down. It was a law in Israel that if a beast had fallen under his burden, one that was passing by must lift him up; what then are we not obligated to do for our brethren in the gospel, when they faint under its afflictions. 3. Unless the ambassadors of Jesus Christ sustain each other, the influence of the gospel ministry, and of course its usefulness, are greatly diminished. Common sense declares that unity is strength. And each minister of the Lord Jesus Christ knows how his soul is waked to energy by a knowledge of the fact that he is sustained by his brethren in the same office. And the men we are sent to save are the more prepared to yield their hearts and their deport- ment to the influence of truth, when they see it brouo-ht to them by a united band; having all one commission, and one Master, and one creed, and one heart. It then comes like the overtures of peace, brouo-ht not by a single ambassador, but by the general of an army. Then the commission is respected, and the overtures receive prompt and serious attention. C0NCI0 AD CLERUM. 381 4. Not a few of God's ministers have quit the work and others in the hour of conflict have looked about them for some other em- ployment, because they conceived that they were not promptly sus- tained by their brethren. They had been given a stubborn field to cultivate, all grown over with thorns and briars, and they labored till they had richly earned the confidence of those who had occu- pied a less stubborn and more fruitful section of the vineyard ; but at length they became wearied with perpetual effort, and finally quit the field. And it is a query worth our attention, whether a little timely help, would not have kept them in the work, and ren- dered them immensely useful, while now they are at some other service, and must die out of the vineyard. And there are probably many at this very moment looking about them for a school, secre- taryship, or professorship, or a clerkship, by which they may earn a piece of bread for their children. And this at the very moment when we are making every possible effort to send forth more laborers into the vineyard. Now, why not make some effort to sustain those already at the work, and by partaking in their afflic- tions wake them to renewed enterprise, and a far more extended usefulness 1 If any who have been commissioned are unworthy, then publish their character, and send them back to the plough, and the residue sustain. Shall those who are happily located fear injury to them- selves, if they speak a kind word in behalf of some afflicted brother \ I will not allow myself to believe that the legate of the skies can act from a motive so contracted. I will rather believe that depres- sion of mind, under long protracted trials, has begotten in the minds of some good men the false impression that they won t duly sustained in their conflicts. And I will, ifi the mean time, place high in honor those noble men who have earned and obtain- ed the reputation of strengthening the weak hands, and confirming the feeble knees, and who have ventured to say to the fearful heart, Be strong, fear not. They have kept many a good man in t tie field, and thus have virtually made more ministers than many who have pleaded eloquently the cause of charitable education. "These ought ye to have done, but not to have left the others undone."' Said the apostle of the circumcision, after giving us a catalogue of his afflictions, " Who is weak, and I am not weak ! who is of- fended, and I burn not I" This, it seems, was the lesson which his own trials had taught him. Finally — Brethren, feel not that the subject was an unnecessary 3S2 C0NC10 AD CLERUM. exposure of ministerial weakness. We shall nut give the churches confidence in us, hy showing them that we have little confidence in one another. We shall not bless them, by neglecting and des- pising those in the ministry who suffer till they abandon the broth- erhood, and go back into the world to get their bread. The des- perate enemies of God, who are quarelling with their minister be- cause he has ventured to tell them the whole truth, may be glad if we Avill leave him unsustained, till they can devour him. But the good sense of God's people, and of all generous, noble-minded men, will love and honor us the more, the stronger is that ligature that binds together the hearts of God's ministers. SERMON XXXIII.* THE MERCIES OF GOD NOT OBEDIENTLY RECIPROCATED. ISAIAH I. 2. Hear, O heavens, and give ear, O earth ; for the Lord hath spoken ; I have nourished and brought up children, and they have rebelled against me. How provoking is the sin of ingratitude! Among men it is considered unpardonable, while every other crime is forgiven. To be ungrateful argues a want of ingenuousness, of which even the most ungrateful are not willing to be accused. And can we won- der that pride takes the alarm, when a charge is brought that ar- gues baseness, not to be found in the herd of the stall. The descendants of Abraham, to whom the prophet refers, fur- nish us a long history of ingratitude. God had so distinguished them as to render them eternal debtors to his mercy, but they rebelled against him. He called Abraham from Ur of the Chaldees, a land of dark idolatry, gave him a large posterity, and made them the objects of his peculiar care. When oppressed with famine, the king of Egypt must feed them. When enslaved, God raised them up a deliverer, who brought them out with triumph. He bade the waves of the sea roll back and leave them a passage, and return to discomfit their foes. He miraculously clothed, fed, and guided them forty years. He then divided Jordan, and introduced them into a beautiful country, which, being watered with enrich- ing dews and timely showers, furnished them all that heart could wish. To give them room he " drove out the heathen with his hand." They had riches, honors, pleasures, and health. God de- livered to them his word, called them his children, and placed in their magnificent temple the symbol of his presence. When the ten tribes revolted from the house of David, and were abandoned to dispersion and slavery, he still kept his eye on Judah. He gave them wise kings, faithful prophets, and a mild and happy government. Still had they the means of knowing the mind of God. They had their temple, iheir high priest, their holy * Delivered in New-Jersey, at the rising of the sun, on Hie Fourth of July, 1814; in a time of ereat and general interest on the subject of religion, and intended to prevent the usual desecration of the day. 384 THE MERCIES OF GOD altar, and their daily sacrifice. For many years they sat under their vinos and fig-trees, and none made them afraid. Thus God nourished and brought them up as children. Had he not a right to expect their obedience / Was it not enough to as- tonish heaven and earth, to see it withheld ! Can we, without amazement, be told, that in contempt of all this succession of mercies, that people made them other gods, and bowed to images which themselves had carved 1 They imprisoned their prophets, profaned their temple, hardened their hearts, and generated a pos- terity prepared to embrue their hands in the blood of Christ. All this mischief achieved by that people, God resolved to destroy ; but first commands heaven and earth to listen to the story of their apostacy : " Hear, O heavens, and give ear, 0 earth ; for the Lord hath spoken ; I have nourished and brought up children, and they have rebelled against me." How aptly does this whole history apply to us ! If Judah's ingratitude has ever been surpassed — if it has ever been equalled, it has been in America. While attending to this short history, you have been making the comparison between that nation and ours. We have been nurtured with the same fatherly care, and have been equally rebellious. In pursuing the subject, I shall follow the natural division of the text, and show, first, that God has nourished and brought us up as children, and secondly, that we have rebelled against him. I. I am to show that God has nourished and brought us up as children. A kind parent aims to promote the best good of his children, and to this point bends every effort. So the dealings of God with us have been calculated to promote our best good. "He hath not dealt so with any" other " nation." In proof of this as- sertion we have only to look at facts. It is asked, Wherein has God given us proof of paternal affection ! I answer, 1. In preparing us such a goodly land. It is believed that no portion of the globe is to the same extent so fertile, healthful, and pleasant as the United States of America. Our soil is fertUe. Hardly does any land furnish its inhabitants comfort or luxury that ours does not yield for us. Our valleys wave witli corn, our hills are white with harvests, and our very mountains, to their highesl cliffs, feed our (locks. Till God shall become angry, and shall forbid the showers to enrich our fields, we never need be dependant for our bread or clothing on any othef NOT OBEDIENTLY RECIPROCATED. 3go nation. What one region of our country does not produce, prows abundantly in some other. And we draw sustenance from our bays and rivers. Thus were "the fields to yield no meat, and should the herd be cut off from the stall,1' we should be still supplied. On this point every rea- sonable desire is satisfied, and every ground of fear removed. To fertility God has added beauty. Ours is all that rich variety of scenery which can please the eye or charm the heart. Our e\- tensive plains, encircled with cultivated hills, watered with mean- dering streams, and opening upon the traveler as he reaches the eminence, afford prospects the most enchanting. If any doubt whether our land is beautiful, ask the Christian, who, in some favored hour, ascended the mountain, and felt his soul rise from the broad-spread landscape to the God who planned and built the scene ; — ask him if " our lines have" not "fallen to us in pleasant places." Ask the mariner, who has been shipwrecked upon the coast of Africa, and has seen the sable tribes making a delicious meal on reptiles — ask him if we have not a goodly heritage. Ask the traveler who has scorched his feet in Arabian deserts, and has climbed the Ararat, if the tender mercies of the Lord to us are not great. Ask one, if you please, who has seen the lawns and parks of polished Europe, if nature has not furnished our America with richer lawns and nobler parks. Will it not excite gratitude to compare our country in point of beauty, with any region of the globe ? What was once said of England is more true of America. " It is a paradise of pleasure, the garden of God. Our vales are like Eden, our hills as Lebanon, our springs as Pisgah, our rivers as Jordan, our walls the ocean, and our defence the Lord Jehovah." Nor is any portion of the globe, to the same extent, more healthful. From the eternal snows of the north, and from the sultry heats and deadly blasts of the south, we are well removed. The longevity of our grand parents, recorded on yonder tomb- stones ; the many in our assembly today, on whom is seen the blossom of the almond-tree, bear witness that God has blessed with health and long life, his American Israel. The numbers who can be spared from the sick and dying bed, to wait on God this morn- ing in this house, bear testimony to the salubrity of our clime. ^ es, God has fraught every gale with life, and has wafted health to us in every breeze. The effects of his bounty are seen in every countenance, and felt in every nerve. In all this God has acted the part of a kind Father; has nourish- 49 3S6 THE MERCIES OF GOD ed and brought us up as children. The land of Canaan, although described as flowing with milk and honey, was not a better land. Nor will God demand less of us than of Israel. He charges us with every field, every spring, and every river. He notes agiinst us every shower that falls upon our hills, and every dew drop that moistens the vales. 2. There was a display of God's parental affection in giving us existence in this favored land. Long had it been the lonely haunt of savages. Our forefathers were natives of other realms, realms now perhaps in ruins. If God had not intended to be a father to us, we might there have been born, and there have lived, in the midst of oppression, tears, and blood. We might have been forced into those armies which have perished on the plains of Eu- rope, stiffened with December's frosts, or fattening the soils with their blood. But God had kindnesses in store for us, and bid our fathers fly to some other land. Rut whither could they fly 1 When they first began to feel op pression, America was unknown in Europe. It had lain hid be- yond a vast expanse of trackless ocean, ever since it sprang from chaos. True, it had been visited, but from its dreary bourne, no one had returned to bear tidings. Driven before the eastern tor- nado, the wretched had known its rocky shores as the place of their midnight shipwreck ; else unknown. But Divine Goodness, which had long kept it in reserve for us, raised it into view, just at the moment when oppression was preparing our fathers to wish and pray for some asylum where they and their children might be free. The immortal Columbus sought our shores. Our ances- tors followed him, under the same Divine escort. And here we are this morning in a land of plenty, health, and freedom. My hearers, do you not feel that God was kind in all this \ Think then of the millions, who are this day miserably poor, on that ground where we might have been wretched paupers, if our forefathers had remained at home. Think of Europe's precious youth, who have been lately torn from home in their tender years, to man the navy and fill the armies. Think of the fathers, who now need sous to prop their age, but have lost them in battle. Ah ? and mothers, more helpless still, without a child remaining to so- lace their widowhood. See that band of females ! they have been to the shore to salute their husbands, but they return in despair ; their husbands have fallen in the field.* Think of the pleasant * A scene actually witnessed not lonir since in England, on the return from Spain of a remnant of Lord Wellington's army. NOT OBEDIENTLY RECIPROCATED. 3S7 cottages wrapped in flames by the torches of a desolating army. Recollect the sufferings of that little Swiss Republic, to whom liberty was so dear, that mothers left their infants under the oak, and fought and fell by the side of their husbands. While humanity bleeds over these scenes of distress, let piety raise to heaven a tearful eye, and say, " Bless the Lord, 0 my soul, and all that is within me bless his holy name." 3. As a parent his children, the Lord has instructed us. We were from infancy taught to read the Scriptures, and were early plnced under the droppings of the sanctuary. Many of us have been devoted to God in baptism, and have thus been made mem- bers of the school of Cbrist. Pious parents have whispered truth in our ears. Ever have we had line upon line, and precept upon precept. In no other quarter of the globe have all classes the means of instruction. And in this matter has not the Lord been a kind Father 1 If a doubt remains, think of those" crowds of Pa- pists, who through ignorance of the Scriptures, pray to departed saints, and tender gold for the pardon of sin ! See those hordes of Mahometans, stupid as the beast, till their infuriated passions arouse them to spill a brother's blood. Think of the millions of Pagan tribes, who to this day worship a block of wood. Yes, think of the hundreds of millions, who never saw a Bible, who never enjoyed a Sabbath, and to whom no kind angel of mercy ever carried proffers of pardon. Think of these things, and you cannot doubt the fatherly kindness of God in providing for our instruction. 4. God has exercised parental love in defending our country in times of danger. Our whole history, from the first landing of our forefathers, is but one continued, affecting account of God's care of them and us. When that first ship brought that liule band of persecuted Christians, and landed them, in the midst of winter, ",i Plymouth's bleak, inhospitable coast, — when they there kindled their first fire, amidst howling beasts and yelling savaccs, — when they there fell on their knees, and to heaven raised their streaming with tears, — when they covered their little babes with leaves blown from the trees of autumn, and stationed a sentinel t<» watch the foe; how could it be doubted but that they would be driven from the land they bad reached \ Who could have predict- ed or would bave dared to hope, that God would socn give thei i peaceable possession of all this extensive country I And afterward, when the savage band conspired to destroy that little company of strangers, — when the scalping knife was r 388 THE XEKCIES OF god over the slumbers of the cradle, — when the savage yell disturbed the midnight dream, and the angry flames were consuming the lit- tle thatched hovels where our mothers slept, who could have thought that God intended so soon to give the word, and bid those savages retire to the western forests 1 — who could have believed, or dreamed, that those miserable hovels would in a few years be exchanged for these beautiful mansions which now adorn our land 1 And when, afterward, the merciless Frenchmen bore down upon us from the north, and in the west hired against us the bloody tomahawk, — when their ships of war covered our lakes, and spread destruction along our Atlantic shores, and the savage band broke in upon our frontiers, each pressed on by infernal fury ; who could have thought that heaven designed, by this war, to prepare us for future conflicts, and raise us up an immortal Washington to be the future savior of our country. And when, at length, the very land that gave us birth becamr hostile ; — when her floating purgatories thundered on our coast and burned our cities, and her hard hearted veterans were ravag ing our country, stripping our fathers of their flocks and herds, and our mothers of their well-earned food, and of the couch oi\ which they dared not rest, and could not sleep ; — when at length we were forced to make an appeal to the sword, and our litth companies of undisciplined troops were rallying round their Gen era! ; — when our fathers began to fall in the high places of tin- field, and our mothers, with some of us infants in their arms, fleet from the foe, and saw7 him burn their dwellings ; — when at length the temples of the living God were converted into barracks, pro faned with the soldier's oath, and dissipated night with their blaz- ing spires ; — when the meek ambassador of the cross* must die for loving his country, ami for wishing to be free ; and when all hearts began to ache and to bleed, and Heaven had not yet begun to rr'we us the victory, — in this trying hour, who wrould have thought that God intended so soon to deliver us from the oppress- ive yoke of our parent country, and make us an independent and happy republic. While we look round us, and see some present, who still wear the scars they received in that perilous hour, Tve feel emotions of gratitude which we cannot suppress. Yes, fathers ! while we bless God for being our roek of defence in the desperate hour, we • Mr. Caldwell, of Elizabeth-Town. NOT OBEDIENTLY RECirROCA TED. 389 thank you for the efforts you made to earn and deliver to us the fair inheritance of freedom. We never will, no never ! forget your toils and dangers. We will cherish you in your declining years, and when you are dead, we will lead our infant children to your graves, and tell them the history of your sufferings in the cause of freedom. But, fathers, while we thank you that you fought in Israel's hosts, we entreat you to love Israel's God. And ye aged mothers, you fled with us from the malice of the foe : O ! flee with us from the wrath to come ! Here I could stay and mention other mercies till the sun had gone down. God has given us a happier form of government than is now enjoyed in any other portion of the globe. Life, pro- perty, and the rights of conscience are secure. Parents are not constrained to send their children, at the call of a tyrant, to be trained up to the art of murder. As yet we have suffered but lit- tle by the present distressing war. The foe has destroyed others ; fellow-citizens have spilt their blood in the field, and others have lost their all, while we are unmolested. Nor have we felt the dis- tresses of famine. The poorest among us have bread, while, in our world, aud doubtless in some parts of our land, there are those who are destitute. God has kept us too from those plagues aud pestilences which have desolated other countries. Our breezes are yet laden with health. 0 how good is the Lord ! And we could tell of individual blessings. God has guarded our lives. In the midst of a thousand snares we have been safely kept. Who can say why we have not been numbered among the millions dead, or the thousands now in the agonies of dissolution. Every day and every hour have our lives been forfeited. If God had bidden us die any morning or any evening, he had still been just and good. But he yet allows our blood to flow warm in our veins, and the heart to beat high with life in our bosoms. In all this how strong a testimony of the Divine goodness ! But our wonder must increase. God has not only spared us, and defended us from harm, but has with his bounty rendered our lives comfortable and happy. We have been surrounded with every thing that could sweeten life. Our friends have smiled upon us and loved us. " God has fed us with the finest of wheat, and with the honey out of the rock has he satisfied us." We have Bat peaceably in our dwellings, and have seen the rich harvests ripen- ing in our fields, while other dwellings have resounded with dying groans, and other fields have been fattened with human gore. Thus God has employed his wisdom and power in making rebels happy. 390 THE MERCIES OF GOD If all this does not excite our gratitude, the beasts of the stall will find a tongue to reproach us : for " the ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his master's crib." But, to crown our other mercies, to blacken our ingratitude, and raise our wonder to its climax, God offers us eternal life through his Son. We are pressed with the obligations of dying love. The Holy Spirit, with kind intent, has come down among us. Through all the past year he has been knocking at the door of some of our hearts. And perhaps many present have continued to reject his kindest entreaties. And still Divine compassion waits to save. Thus after our cup has run over with earthly blessings, God has opened to us all the treasures of heaven. First he fills our table with his fruits, and his wines, and then invites us to the marriage supper of the Lamb. Here is unparalelled benevolence. No world has known the like. The angels have seen nothing like it in heaven, devils have heard of nothing like it in hell. That God should be kind to the good is to be expected ; but that infinite wis- dom and love should exhaust their skill to make a rebel happy, is enough to excite wonder in the breast of Gabriel. Having thus nourished and brought us up as children, had not the Lord a right to expect obedience 1 Are we not the basest of creatures if we do not love and serve him'? I appeal to conscience, which God has placed as his witness, in your bosom. What de- mand does that messenger of heaven make upon you to-day I Should not the passing hours be spent in God's praise 1 If other- wise employed, will not the God of Israel be angry 1 And yet we know that none will give him praise but those who love him. All others will profane this day, and thus provoke his wrath. I pro- ceed to the other part of my subject. II. While God has been exhibiting all this parental affection, we have rebelled against him. Every breach of God's law, every de- parture from duty, every unholy affection and improper action is rebellion. In our case, as in that of Judah, when God complained by the prophet, we exhibit degeneracy as well as rebellion. We have departed from the piety and rectitude of our forefathers. 1 shall at present mention some of the prevailing sins of our land, by which jt is manifest that we are both a degenerate and rebellious people. And while I proceed, every one must allow his con- science to do its office. It is to no purpose that the gospel is preached, unless the truth is felt. NOT OBEDIENTLY RECIPROCATED. 391 The first sin I mention as proving our degeneracy and rebellion, is the want of family religion in our land : instance family prayer. While we are commanded to pray with all manner of prayer, lift ing up holy hands to God, many families entirely neglect the duty. From no domestic altar ascends their morning and evening sacri- fice. They rise with the sun, and address themselves to the busi- ness of the day, without asking God to watch or guide them. I fear some of my hearers did not pray in their families this morning. God only knows. And no doubt as many will retire this evening, without thanking God for preserving goodness, or engaging any heavenly guard to watch the sleeping pillow. Now if parents do not pray in their families, we cannot hope that they do it in their closets. That parent who finds secret prayer delightful, will en- deavor by example to teach his children prayer. It is reported that some professors of religion have no prayer in their families, and ask no blessing over their food. Some are said to pray only on the Sabbath, and ask a blessing over one meal in the day. Why not, with the same propriety, pray once in the year, and ask only an annual blessing: over the ingathered harvest 1 This would cut the business short. In this point we have degenerated. It is said that among our forefathers there was no family without a domestic altar, no little helpless immortals without a father's prayers. They partook not of the Divine bounty till they had blessed the Giver. Could they return they would blush to own their offspring. How can the Christian neglect duties so plain 1 How can the father, whose title implies the warmest affection, let his children retire at night, till he has committed them to the care of God \ If neglected by the father, how can the mother, a name yet more tender, lay her little ones upon their pillows, till she has put them under the care o( the Watchman of Israel. How do careless pa- rents know that their children will live till the morning ? And should they die on that night, when they were not the subjects of parental prayer, how must those parents feel I With what heart- rending anguish must they convey their bodies to the grave. The neglect of this duty in particular, and of family religion in general, is doubtless a crying sin, which proves our apostacy and rebellion, and must draw down Divine judgments. 2. Another common sin, equally manifesting degeneracy and re- bellion, is the neglect of discipline in families and churches. Many families have no government. The children never feel restraint. and so never learn obedience. The consequence is, they often 392 THE MERCIES OF GOD despise their parents, and prove scourges to society. The world is the loser by their existence. They live only to cumber the ground, and reproach their parents. How ashamed ought parents to be of such children ! and how afraid should society be of such parents ! In Churches the same neglect of discipline prevails. Some, who have no pretensions to heart religion, are admitted to the communion. Many are seen there who are not moral. Yes ! the the lips of profaneness touch the symbols of a dying Christ ! Hands polluted with the intoxicating bowl, and trembling under its dire effects, are moved to the sacred cup ! The scorner, in many places, takes his seat among the followers of the Lamb ! The very disciples of Iscariot, who envy Jesus a throne with the Father, and would pluck every gem from his crown ; who trample upon truth ; and would gladly extirpate the Church, or at least kindle a hell in her bosom — these come forward, with a brazen front, and commemorate the dying love of Christ! Were He to come and put himself again in the power of sinners, would not many of our communicants leave the sacrament and go to crucify him 1 In the days of our forefathers, there was not this want of discipline. Every family was a little Church, in which pious parents bent every effort to make their children like themselves. Departure from duty met reproof. The child who would disobey a parent, disrespect superiors, disturb devotion, or profane the Name of God, would meet the frowns of his play-fellows. The church-member who walked disorderly was reproved, and at once either reclaimed or cut off. None came to the Lord's ta- ble, who were not strictly moral and hopefully pious. They had no idea, in those days, that unrenewed men had any right to the children's bread. If they were correct, we are degenerate. It would be happy for the Church and the world, if that golden age could return. And return it must ; discipline must be administer- ed, before there will be a reformation of morals, or any extensive revival of religion in our land. And have we not reason to believe that a reformation in this matter must precede the removal of those judgments which we begin to feel. If God frowned because he disapproved, why smile till he approve ? 3. The profanation of the Sabbath is another general sin, proving us degenerate and rebellious. Once that day was respected in Ame- rica. The man who did not regard the Sabbath was not esteemed. The person who walked the streets on tint day, unless to or from NOT OBEDIENTLY RECIPROACTEl 393 the house of God, was considered a disturber of the public peace.* Then the waterman anchored his vessel in the harbor, till the hours of Sabbath were by ; the traveler delayed his journey, and the young laid aside their pastimes. Now the sailor begins his voy- age, the traveler pursues his journey, young men their pleasures, and children their sports on that sacred day. On many public streets the way to the temple is obstructed with teams, and as you enter the very doors of the sanctuary, your ears are assailed with the oaths of the heaven-abandoned teamsters. The inn- keeper and his family can never hear the gospel ; they might as well live in India : they must be at home to serve the Sabbath- breaker. In many parts of our land the evening of the Sabbath is not regarded. And there are none who dare oppose this flood of corruption. One plea is, there are no laws. If we have no laws sufficient to enforce the observance of the Sabbath, and our legislators refuse to enact any, we must be a very corrupt people ; if we have, and dare not enforce them, then our corruption is incurable. In either case, we have a striking demonstration that we are a rebellious and degeneTate people. 4. "Because of swearing the land mourneth." This sin proves us degeneiate and rebellious. The profane oath used to be the sub- ject of public prosecution. Men dared not take in vain the name of the Lord their God. When respect for the great Jehovah did not restrain, the fear of man did. But the gold has become dim. In many awful instances, the child who has just begun to speak, is taught to swear. The evening streets profanely echo with the names of the eternal God. The inn, formerly the peaceable asy lum of the pious traveler, is now often rendered intolerable by resounding oaths and curses. What sin can be more daring \ It is a direct attack upon a holy God. It evinces a heart desperately rebellious. Its prevalence evinces a state of society monstrously degenerate. 5. Another sin, equally proving us rebellious and degenerate, is intemperance-! This is a growing sin, which should alarm every friend to human happiness. It prevails among both sexes,| and in * In one of the lanrest States in the Union, a public officer stopped the Lieu- tenant-Governor, as lie was walking out on the Sabbath, ami obliged him to return. t It is .credibly reported, that in thefirst settlement of this country, spirituous liquor was kept only by the apothecaries, as a medicine. | It is ascertained to be fact, that under the pretem f the sick headache, many ladies of fashion retire i<> -hep oir the fumes of excessive drinking. 50 39* THE MERCIES OF GOu all classes of society. Numberless families in our country are rendered miserable by this unnatural iniquity. To-day they are happy and useful, to-morrow lost. Intemperate creatures are now found in every place. They come to our holy communion, they are entrusted with public offices, they officiate in our churches, and have, in some distressing instances, made their way into the sacred desk, and have there stood in the place of God's ambas- sador. 6. Another sin which proves us degenerate and rebellious, is the existence of two hostile political parties. The manner in which these parties treat each other, prove us a vicious race. Each accuses the other of designing the ruin of his country, of being vile, and false, and under foreign influence. Now if both divisions speak truth, in bringing this charge, then we are all an abandoned people j if one party only speak truth, still about half of us are irrecoverably lost ; and if neither keep the truth, then " all men are liars." Take either ground, and we are a wicked race. An unhappy result of this political division is, that we have corrupted the press. It is almost impossible to learn truth from the public gazettes. By party prejudice and rage, facts are discolored. The honest man dares not confide in what he reads. On either side the plainest facts are sometimes obstinately and perseveringly de nied : — I do not charge it all to the editors, nor dare I attempt to exonerate them. Once things were not so. Our fathers knew but one party . they were Americans. They contended only for the interests of their own country. Every public paper was the vehicle of truth. If one said, " I saw it written thus in the newspaper ," there were none to contradict. Nothing was written there that was not be- lieved'to be truth. But that golden age is gone. Truth, unable to breathe our polluted atmosphere, has taken its flight. As if the tongue, that " world of iniquity," could not sufficiently dis perse falsehood, men have taught the paper and ink to lie ; and yet there is not a shadow of evidence, that there may not be on both sides of the question, the firmest friends and vilest enemies of their country. Here I could enumerate many other sins ; among which are conspicuous a disposition in professors of religion to conform to the world, the little regard paid to an oath, a proneness in minis- ters to seel popularity rather than usefulness, to consult the taste rather than the good of their hearers, and the prevailing propensity to asperse character: — I am ashamed to name any more. NOT OBEDIENTLY RECIPROCATED. 39f) These sins have offended God, and he has come out of his holy- place to punish us. If we do not repent, how can we hope that God will not treat us as he has other wicked nations, and discharge upon us, ultimately, the full vials of his wrath. Is there not occa- sion why this day should be devoted to God 1 If he be for us, none can be against us ; but if God forsake us, we are as stubble, and can be trodden down by any foe that he may commission. And can we hope that he will continue to protect us, when disci- pline and prayer are neglected ; when the name, the worship, the Sabbath, and the sacred honor of God are disregarded ; and when every sin that can be named prevails? Will he continue to shield us by his power, when no longer his people 1 Will he be "a wall 01 fire round about us," when no longer " the glory in the midst of us 1" As the Lord liveth, our sins have placed us in danger. Is it not then a time when all classes of men should fear before the Lord? Ought not the ministers of the Gospel to take their stand between the porch and the altar, and cry, with incessant tears, " Lord, spare thy people, and give not thy heritage to re- proach." Have they not reason to fear that the ark of God may be taken from us, and carried to the heathen 1 Alas ! if we look round us must we not fear that the divine glory is now hovering over the threshold, in the attitude of departing. Since our iniqui- ties put us in danger, may every watchman be awake upon his watch-tower, and be ready to give the alarm, that if he cannot save others, he may at least free his own skirts from the blood of souls. And shall not parents, who look forward to the destinies of a rising offspring, which they are about to leave in the midst of dan- gers like these ; parents to whom God has committed in charge souls more precious than material worlds, — shall they not this day mourn over their own sins and the sins of their children 1 Shall they not bring them in faith and prayer to the arms of a compas- sionate God. My dear fathers and mothers, soon opportunity to pray for your children will be gone. Your withering locks will soon lie in the dust. We do hope that before your dissolution ar- rives, we shall be the subjects of your earnest prayers. We en- treat you to pray for us to-day. My Christian friends, it will become us to lie low in the dust to-day, and to review all our sins, by which perhaps wc have stum- bled the mpenitent, and provoked our kind Redeemer. Think, brethren, of the impending dangers. Everything dear to the pious heart is at stake ; the country bought with the blood of our fathers ; 396 THE MERCIE3 OF GOD NOT OBEDIENTLY RECIPROCATED. yes, and the American Churches bought with richer blood. As we inquire now respecting the seven Churches of Asia, others may, another day, inquire, "Where are now the once nourishing Churches of America V 0, is this ground, made sacred by the impress of a Savior's feet, to be trodden down by a savage band 1 Is this temple of God to become, ever, a Mahometan mosque. After God has baptized it with his Spirit, will he suffer it to be- come a heathen temple 1 "0! tell it not in Gath! Publish it not in the streets of Askelon !" The enemies of truth will triumph. Christians, pray this day for Zion. Go to your closets, while others are abusing the day, and deplore the prevailing iniquities, and weep over a people, who by their sins, are destroying them- selves. If God will not forgive us, and still be for us, we die. And the prayers of the saints must bring the blessing down. One word to the impenitent. This is an important day for you, but I fear that some of you may this day do your souls much injury The saints consider your danger very great, and many a prayer has ascended this morning from the " dwellings of Jacob" in your be- half. If ruin comes upon our land, you have no place of refuge. The Christian has a strong tower, into which he can run and be safe; but destruction will overtake you if out of Christ. O! what need have you to be afflicted, and mourn, and weep! All your sins are still written against you Not one of all the myri- ads is pardoned. See to it that you do not act today so as to pro- voke God to anger, and perhaps induce him to abandon you for ever. May we all so spend the day as to do our country good, and promote our future eternal blessedness. SERMON XXXI V. THE INDUSTRIOUS YOUNG PROPHETS. ISAIAH VI. 1-3. And the sons of the prophets said unto Eliaha, Behold now, the place where we dwell with thee is too 6lrait for us. Let us <;o, we pray thee, unto Jordan, and take there every man a beam, and let us make us a place there where we may dwell. And he answered. ye. And one said, Be content, I pray thee, and go with thy servants, and he answered, I will go. About nine hundred years before Christ, there was at Jericho or Gilgal, some place near to Jordan, a school of the prophets, at the head of which was the worthy and venerable Elisha. The govern- ment of Israel was in the hands of Jehoram, a degenerate son of the impious Ahab. It was a time of general corruption; the prophets were treated with neglect ; and the honors due to God were given to an idol. Still the prophets were employed in pro- moting the worship of God, and their number increased till they had occasion to enlarge the place of their tent. In the simple and interesting history of this enterprise, we learn, that the prophets, though poor, and not held in very high estimation in that degene- rate age, were pious, honest, and industrious. They seem to have dwelt together, that under the tuition of their honored father, they might become prepared to teach and prophecy in Israel and the neighboring countries. They were, no doubt, at this time, frequently consulted by the leaders of Israel, notwithstanding their degeneracy and corruption. I presume it can need no apology, if I glance from this school of the prophets to the edueation of a gospel ministry. 0 could I, in the transition, bring with me into gospel times the faith of Eli- sha, and transfer into my audience the zeal of his associates! Then the building we propose to erect would soon rise, and the Church, down to the latest ages, feel and rejoice iu the benevolent enterprise. I shall take occasion to remark in tin1 First place, That, a j> to this moment, very inadequate provision is made for replenishing the gospel ministry. This treasure is commit- ted to earthen vessels; ministers are dying men. \\ lien we have served the Church a few days, we go the way of all the earth, and * Delivered at the lay ig of the corner-i*one of Amherst College, Aug. '.', 1820. 398 THE INDUSTRIC JS YOUNG PROPHETS. the places that knew us know us no more for ever. But the Churches must still have a ministry ; and that ministry be com- posed of men, not angels ; men educated by liuman means, not inspired with miraculous gifts. Hence there must be made a perpetual effort to create this supply of pastors and teachers, for the perfect- ing of the saints, and for the edifying of the body of Christ. But the present ratio of supply is entirely inadequate to the exigencies of the Church. On this subject there needs no other argument but a statement of facts, of which there could be presented a list that would move any but a heart of iron. A very few of these facts, drawn from the very best authorities, I will take the liberty to mention. The nine millions of souls in these United States, have the ser- vice, it it believed, of only about two thousand five hundred minis- ters who are competent to preach the gospel. But if instead of this number we had nine thousand, each must then have the care of one thousand souls. But in a large proportion of our country, owing to the scattered state of its population, five hundred souls would be an extensive charge. Hence, nine thousand ministers, in addi- tion to all we have, would be but a bare supply for this district of the Church of Christ. But this number would equal that of the ministers educated in times past in all the colleges in the United States in nearly twenty years. While, then, we might be prepar- ing this supply, many ministers will go to their graves, and others be disabled, and our population will have almost doubled. We are assured, that in the three southernmost of the Atlantic States, containing, perhaps, a million and a half of souls, there are but one hundred and ten competent ministers ; while in one district of South Carolina, containing nine hundred square miles, there is but one place of worship, and (hat not used, and not one Christian church or minister of any denomination. In the whole of Indiana, Mississippi, Louisiana, Alabama, Illinois, Michigan and Missouri, a district of country large enough for a continent, and containing at least three hundred and fifty thousand souls, there are not twenty competent ministers ; of course, but one to more than twenty thousand. In East Tennessee, there are in seventeen counties more than one hundred thousand, while fourteen of these counties arc without one regular minister of the gospel. In the west of Virginia, in eight counties, are forty-seven thousand souls connected with no religious society; and four whole counties without any religious institutions whatever. In another district there are fifty-three thousand souls, in another twenty thousand, THE INDUSTRIOUS YOUNG PROPHETS. 399 and in another still sixty thousand, all in about the same deplorable condition. In Pennsylvania there are extensive districts in which there never was a school, where more than half the adults can neither read nor write, m;my never saw a Bible nor any book, nor ever heard a sermon. One district, of forty thousand souls, lias but one fixed pastor. In the state of New-York theru could be settled immediately, were they to be found, two hundred ministers. And if we should survey the limits of New-England, we should see some dreary moral deserts. In the two oldest counties of New-Hampshire, there are about forty-five towns without a min- istry. But I have not time to enlarge. Allowing that these state- ments may be in many respects not exactly correct, still they are evidence of a wide and fearful desolation. If but the one half is true, it presents to the eye of charity a moral landscape of wide and fearful dimensions.* If you could read the epistles that pour these complaints into our ears, you would weep if you ever did, or would die with shame, or would rise to a tone of charity that many have not reached. Now these desolate places must be cultivated, these wastes of death must be fertilized. But where are they to find a ministry 1 The common resources are utterly inadequate to this home supply. But in the mean time we need missionaries to send to the heathen. Of these there are six hundred millions who pay their supreme homage to stocks and stones. The United States, it is computed, ought to despatch to their help at least two thousand missionaries, and will do it, if the time has come, as we presume it lias, when the Christian community, with the charter of eternal life in their hands, can sleep no longer. And still the ministry must be replenished at home. If the pro- bability is, that we shall feel it our duty soon to support among the heathen, a number of missionaries greater than that of the min- isters now within our limits, pray from what resource can we ob- tain that enormous supply ? To export the whole of our ministry, would render our own country the valley of death. It is impossi- ble not to see that the Christian churches have neglected then- duty too long. We must be more thoroughly awake soon, or nothing but a boundless desolation stares us in the fare. The wastes of death are already so wide that they almost outmeasure • We arc happy to say that the state of things, in all these cases, are greatly altered for the better, and thai this institution, notwithstanding its youth, has had its full «have in producing these happy re 400 THE INDUSTRIOUS YOUNG PROPHETS. the hope of cultivation, and they are daily augmenting their horrid circumference. Our children, xohoi vc .shall hare done all that we can, are very likely to be among those who shall cry for the bread of life, and perish before their cry is heard. When they shall have attended our funeral, they may retire to the west, and there pine away in their sins, while there falls upon their ears no sound of mercy, and their eyes see not upon the mountains the feet of him that bringeth glad tidings, that publisheth peace, that saith to Zion, Thy God reigneth. We may miss our children in heaven, and know then, but know too late, that they have perished through our negligence. While we thus weep over the fearful dclinquen cies in the ministry of reconciliation, it is cheering to know, II. That we have the materials and the means of an abundant supply. When I speak of the materials, my eye is searching among the churches for the happy subjects of our late revivals. Many of them I perceive are in the vale of poverty, and would rejoice to be useful, if they might presume to hope that they could be equipped for the work, and that God would employ them in his service. They are waiting, it is presumed, till this institution rise, and some kind voice invite them to come and take sanctuary under its covert. If they could equip themselves they would ; or if they dared to hope that they were worthy, they would pour their cry into our ears, and give us no rest till we had made them the reci- pients of our charity. A few years since, if we had been awake to this interest, it would not have been easy to find materials. God had suffered our youth to grow up in unbelief, and thus had chastised us for our negligence. But, anticipating the close of our portentous slumber, his mercy has waked, and prepared the rising generation to be educated, and employed to lead to conquest and to glory the sacramental hosts of God's elect. If we were prepared and would enter to-morrow one hundred upon our open- inf list of beneficiaries, it is presumed they could readily be found, and their hearts would leap with joy to know that they might be furnished to the good work of pointing sinners to the Savior. And we have abundantly the means. If each person in the United States would give one cent a year for this purpose, it would amount to ninety thousand dollars annually, a sum the interest of which would discharge annually and for ever the ex penses of more than fifty beneficiaries; or if tin- principal should be expended, it would support for one year nine hundred. If each church member in the United States should contribute to this THE INDUSTRIOUS YOUNG rROPHETS. 401 object annually one dollar, it would probably raise tbe sum of four hundred thousand dollars, and support four thousand students. Most congregations, beside supporting the ministry, could defray the expenses of one student annually, and thus furnish every seven years one minister. In one timely shower of ruin, God cauld re- store all we had expended for years ; or by warding off one storm, could save for us a far greater amount. The man who could lose an ox every year, and not be poor, or could bear the expense of one fit of sickness, could pour the price of that ox, or the expenses of that visitation, into the treasury of the Lord, and not be poor. But if half the number who could make this sacrifice, would do it, and devote the avails to this object, we could, very soon tenfold the number of our ministers, and make the desert and the solitary place glad. If one can spend idly, in the course of the year, ten days, and not be poor, he could employ those days, and not be poor, in earning something for this benevolent purpose. But if half who actually make this sacrifice should thus employ their time, the treasury of the Lord would soon be full. 1'' the youth who annually spend ten dollars in mere extravagances, would give the one half of this expenditure to educate pious and worthy young men for the gospel ministry, there would be mad* no far- ther calls upon the Christian public. If farmers would cultivate each a nuarter acre of their waste lands in the best manner, and give the proceeds to the Lord, it would probably tenfold th« sum that has usually been given for all the benevolent purpose* for which contributions have been made. If the extra crops or the present year, were devoted to the Lord, and expended in thrusting forth laborers into his harvest, the fields that are white would soon be gathered in. Were that sum saved, which is annual. v lost, by mere negligence, it would for ever supply the churcher with a well-educated ministry, would furnish an army of evange- lists, and would fertilize the wastes of a moral world. Instead of its being the fact, as the covetous daily plead, that our resources are exhausted, they are really yet untouched. The man can hardly be found, who has denied himself a comfort to revive a famishing world. And, as it will always happen, those who com plain ihe most have done the least, and most of those who complain, have done nothing. The man who loves to do good with Ins wealth is attentive to every call of charity, and has made every benevolent institution feel the effects of his liberality and his prayers, is grieved that he does so little, and has never been heard to say, that the calls upon ! lis charity have beco ne so frequent as 51 4-02 THE INDUSTRIOUS YOUNG PROPHETS. to be oppressive. That we have the means abundantly, of making exertions that we have never made, none can doubt. III. It is our duty to tise these means, and supply ourselves and others with a well educated ministry. The duty of preparing our- selves a ministry admits of no controversy. If a congregation in each thirty or forty years wears out a minister in their service, it is but honest to calculate, that such a congregation should, in every such period, in addition to supporting the ministry already in their employ, educate one, that the list may be kept full. The only question is, Shall we provide a surplus, for those who are destitute of a ministry, and cannot be expected to supply them- selves 1. A very little reflection, it would seem, must render this matter plain. If we look about us upon the waste places, we shall feel that we are imperiously urged to provide them a supply of pastors. There are Churches very near us, which have been so unhappy as to lose the blessing they once enjoyed. Perhaps the surviving members had no partnership in the sin that stripped them of the ministry. They are begging for help, would do all in their power to provide themselves the gospel and its ordinances ; but when they have done all they can do, they still hunger for the bread of life. The Domestic Missionary Society, instituted for their relief, have assured us, that, although their funds have been low, much of the time since their organization they have done nothing, because men could not be found suitable for the scriu'ce. When I read of this fact, it had on my ear the effect of a dying groan, and stole through the heart like the cold stream of death. Said I to myself, Are the Churches that our fathers planted, which they watered with their tears, in whose bosom they expired, and in whose prosperity, though now in heaven, they have still a deep and unalienable interest — are they to become extinct ! Is that covenant broken, which it was promised should be perpetual ? Had their Redeemer said, "I have graven thee on the palms of my hands, thy walls are continually before me," and has that city been demolished, and have those walls been thrown down \ Have the children who there received the seal of the covenant, no promise left on which to hang their hopes? If we are to do good to all men, but especially to those who are of the household of faith, to help them to re-establish in their temples the ministry of reconcilia- tion is the first duti/ of piety, and the first dictate of humanity. They hunger and thirst after the bread of life, have received a pledge THE INDUSTRIOUS YOUNG PROPHETS 403 that God will sanctify them through liis truth, and cannot he de- nied the blessing requisite to the fulfilment of this promise. Or if we turn our eye to those who have gone to the western woods we shall see opened before us a field which we dare not refuse to cultivate. They have been used to the blessings of a Christian land, have heard and loved the Church-going, bell, have enjoyed schools, academies and libraries, and have been revived by the ordinances, and must they now be excluded for ever from these privileges! They cannot educate for themselves a ministry, nor build in the wilderness the unnumbered conveniences they left behind. They have turned their eye to us, and if we refuse them help we cover them with unmingled despair. They have thus hc- fore them none but the comfortless prospect of seeing their child- ren become wild men, their hand against every man, and every man's hand against them ; nor this the least; for, without the gos- pel, there is nothing before their dear devoted offspring but the blackness of darkness for ever. The mother, that had devoted her children to God, and has gone witlvthem into the western wilds, must now die crushed with the tremendous thought, that she became a mother, merely that she might people the realms of death. Already she has hung her harp upon the willows, and there it must hang, till some kind missionary enters the door of her cabin, and wipes away her tears ; and this missionary we must educate. Ten long years must still roll away before he arrives, and she in the mean time, bleached by the frosts of age, trembles on the brink of the grave, but dare not die till her hopes are accomplished, and her children saved. And who are these inhabitants of the forest 1 They are our fathers and mothers, our brethren and sisters, our children, our friends and neighbors. They were born in the houses we occupy, have gone from our families and our bosom, were the companions of our childhood and our youth. We took sweet counsel together, and went to the house of God in company. Hence the cry they utter sounds in our ears loud and eloquent as the shrieks ol death. If we do not hear nor help them, then the mother has forgol her suck- ing child, and feels no compassion for the son of her womb. Do you say, They shall have a gospel ministry ! My heart responds, They shall. But I hear too the voice of the savage, sounding from the b of that trackless forest still beyond. And there is in that cry a wild and native eloquence. "You have stripped us of our hunting ground ; all in life that 404 THE INDUSTRIOUS YOUNG PROPHETS. we held dear ; you have corrupted our morals ; our tribes, already incalculably diminished, have nothing before them but the dreary of being swallowed up, unless it be the more fearful appre- ; n of perishing for ever in our sins. Once we were the heirs of your soil, we now only ask to die the heirs of that salvation, which is revealed to you in your Bibles." A cry like this has been uttered and is heard. Already the heralds of salvation have gone to look up the remnants of their depopulated tribes, and point them to a Savior. Their sun is setting in the west, and we should give evidence that we had their unpitying nature as well as their s ril, were we willing to see it go down in total darkness. If the few that remain may live for ever, it alleviates the retrospect of their wrongs, and creates one luminous spot in the Egyptian cloud that hangs over the place of their fathers' sepulchres. I would give any price for their forgiveness and their blessing ; and it cheers my heart that my country is beginning to pay the long ar- rears which are due to that injured people. Now suppose, that not merely from the west, but from other heathen lands, we hear a cry for the gospel If the millions of India ask us to send them back in Bibles and missionaries the wealth we have imported from their shores, we can say to them, " Be ye warmed and be ye fed ? If Palestine, and the shores of the Medi- terranean, are seen pining with spiritual famine, and should beg us to send them that bread of heaven which their forefathers sent to ours, would there be no eloquence in that prayer 1 Or if Africa, poor ill-fated Africa, should beg us to make them a Sabbath and build them a sanctuary, and send them a Bible and a missionary ; would they deserve no answer 1 Or if they should be too much oppressed to utter any cry, and we should only know that their highest Deity is a serpent, and their richest hope the repose of the grave, can we pass by on the other side I Their sons have served our fathers - ; we have taught them nothing but our vices ; and if now, , when the promise is about to be fulfilled, and Ethiopia is stretch- ing out her hands unto God, we should refuse them the o-ospel, how can we answer for the stripes, and chains, and servitude, and famine, with which we have taxed them ? What defence can we make when their compasssionate Redeemer shall advocate their cause. Poor Africa must share, though late, the blessings of the gos- pel ; it must be sent to the shores of Palestine, must be propagat- ed in India, must sound through every isle of the ocean, and must goy with ;ts stores of blessings, to every section of this dark and THE INDUSTRIOUS YOUNG PROPHETS. 40f) desolate world. But it cannot be sent ; the miseries that it would alleviate must remain without a cure, till there is a great augment- ation of the army of evangelists. Hence we 77??/?' use the materi- als and employ the means in our power to equip young men for this service. And every year's delay will bury millions who have never heard of Christ, and have no faith in his blood. Hence we are urged to the work, by all that is fleeting in time, by all that is valuable in the soul, by all that is bright and rich in the thought of heaven, and by all that is dark and dreary in the idea of hope- less perdition. IV. Union in the Christian world will insure success. Said the young men to the aged and venerable Elisha, " Be content, we pray thee, and go with thy servants." There was union ; and very soon the trees of Jordan fell, and the school of the prophets was builded. How simple, how interesting, and how full of instruc- tion is this page of sacred story ! How the venerable prophet, as he bore up a beam from the wood, evinced his faith in the cove- nant, nerved the young men to exertion, and magnified his office ! Let the Christian world unite, and the work we propose will be easy. When all shall do a little, none will be burdened. We can educate teachers for ourselves, and furnish a surplus for the out- casts of Israel. And to do it all we hardly need deny ourselves a single comfort. We hav s only to gather up the fragments and let nothing be lost, and they will feed millions of the hungry. When we can unite in the effort, it will be easy to do all that duty ami that benevolence require. The waste places will be repaired, the desti- tute will be furnished with the bread of heaven, the heathen will be tamed to civility, and will burn their temples and their idols, Ethiopia will stretch our her hands unto God, the posterity of Abraham will own their allegiance to their Savior, and be grafted into their own olive tree, the Turk and the Aral) will ex- change the mosque and the Koran for the sanctuary and the Bible, the Tartar will pitch permanently his tent about the house of the missionary, and Jesus, the long neglected Redeemer, will receive the kingdom, the power and the glory for ever. And there is nothing visionary in all this. It is all promised, it is all expected, it will soon transpire ; and the man who will not believe, like the infidel of Samaria, may die in the gate, while the perishing inhabitants of a world are rushing to the banquet of the Lamb. The angel, flying through the midst of heaven, and having the everlasting gospel to preach to them that dwell on the earth, 4-06 THE INDUSTRIOUS YOUNG PROPHETS. will publish it to every kindred, and nation, and tongue, and people. This angel is the gospel ministry, and this prediction is fast accomplishing. Will any ask, What has all this to do with the present occasion 1 The answer is obvious. You have met to lay the foundation of an institution, designed to recruit the ranks of the gospel ministry. There are many who would become soldiers of the cross, if any would equip them. The subscribers to this generous fund, and the founders of this noble edifice, have in view this single object. fi is an institution, in some respects, like no other that ever rose ; designed to bestow gratis a liberal education upon those who will enter the gospel ministry, but who are too indigent to defray the expense of their own induction. It has been founded, and must rise by charity. And every man who shall bring a beam or a rock, who shall lay a stone or drive a nail, from love to the kingdom of Christ, shall not fail of his reward. I believe this institution will collect about it the friends of the Lord Jesus,- who will be fed by their philanthropy and watered by their prayers, and will yet be- come a fountain pouring forth its streams to fertilize the bound- Irss wastes of a miserable world. In vision I see it among the first institutions of our land, the younger sister and the best friend of our theological seminaries, the centre of our education societies, the solace of poverty, the joy of the destitute, and the hope and the salvation of perishing millions.* Connected as it is with the recruit of the ministry, the salvation of souls, and the glory of the Lord Jesus Christ, it will rise, and will soon have a claim upon the charity, the prayers, and the tears of the whole Christian community. If some who may aid in the work have other motives than the glory of God, still I will hope, and I do believe, that the great mass of the donors have their eye upon the future glories of Immanuel, and are erecting this insti- tution as a monument to his honor. And having put their hand to the plough, they will not look back. They will still enlarge their charities, and increase their hopes, till this sacred spot, where they are erecting the school, has attracted the gaze, and gladdened the aehinc hearts of believers in every destitute section of our land. The subject now makes its appeal to all classes of men, to all ti e tender relationships of life, and to all the sympathies of human * We are happy to say that this prediction has been fulfilled long before this lime. THE INDUSTRIOUS YOUNG I'ROPHETS. 407 nature. Its first appeal is to the churches of our Lord Jesus Christ. They are the sacred depositaries of divine truth, and are obligated to perpetuate the ministry of reconciliation. Here you may edu- cate your children, born in your late revivals, and committed to your care to train up for the Lord. Here you see revived the hope and the promise of your future prosperity. "Thy children shall all be taught of the Lord, and great shall be the peace of thy children." Here we hope will be educated many of your future pastors. You have here an additional pledge, that God has not forsaken you, and that he will never leave the vine he has planted in this western world, to be trodden down by the boar of the wood, or wasted by the lapse of time, or the ravages of death. " Thy teachers shall not be removed into a corner any more, but thine eyes shall see thy teachers." And congregations have a singular interest. You have had just occasion to fear that you might one day become waste places, through a lack of pastors. But the thought must be dreadful, whether you regard a future life, or only the present. When the lips which now address you in your respective sanctuaries, are cold in death, and you are met to pay the last offices of affection to your deceased pastors, how it would darken the glooms of that evening, and lessen your hopes of salvation, to apprehend a famine of the word. But the most judicious, till the Church waked to the duty of educating herself a ministry, feared all this. The increase of our population, and the urgent claims of the heathen and the destitute, seemed to leave us, till we discovered this remedy, no- thing to look for but ultimate desertion and ruin. For with the gospel, it was known there would desert us the Sabbath and all those institutions which are the glory of our land. Hence the very infidel, who has no hope for himself and his children beyond the grave, but would have them civil, and decent, and wealthy, and happy in the present life, has a deep interest in this institu- tion. But the subject addresses itself specially to believers. You love the Lord Jesus Christ, and love his Church, and have a deep in- terest in whatever has respect to his honor. And the eternal life of souls is near your heart. If this institution then promises to promote either of these objects, it will be dear to your hearts. And you know the ministry is appointed for the perfecting of the saints and for the edifyimr of the body of Christ. Of course an institution designed to enlarge this ministry, is connected inti- mately with your best interests, your highest pleasures, and your 408 THE INDUSTRIOUS YOUNG PROPHETS. richest hopes. And as you shall see its walls rise, we shall pre- sume on your co-operation and your prayers. The inhabitants of this whole vicinity have a deep interest in this institution. It will not confine its blessings to you, but it wilj offer you its benefits with the fewest inconveniences. If God has given your children his grace, you have here an opportunity to educate them at your own threshold. And if you are too poor to purchase the privilege, still this institution opens to you its doors Nor is the thought to be despised, that here there will be collected those who* have an interest at the throne of grace, and whose daily supplications must bring a blessing upon the whole vicinity. To parents this subject cannot want interest. If there should be no prospect that our own children be here prepared for useful- ness, still the institution will stand, we trust, when our bodies have mouldered in the grave, and be a nursery for our children's child- ren down through many generations. In an age like this, preg nant with such high and holy promise to the rising generation, it is a blessing to be a parent. We may have higher hopes than any ao-e that has gone by, that God will pour out his Spirit upon our seed, and his blessing upon our offspring. The friends of correct sentiment will rejoice to see a school of the prophets opened among a people who believe the truth, and in a neighborhood where there is a pious and orthodox ministry, where prevail the doctrines of our forefathers, and where the as- surance is so strong, that these same funds shall never be per- verted from their original design. We have seen error attempting to roll its desolating flood through our churches. We have seen orostituted to the vile purpose of disseminating false doctrines, funds that were consecrated to the interests of truth. We have seen the Redeemer degraded to a mere attribute, an angel, a man, and even a sinner, by the very charities that were intended to give him a throne in every heart, and an altar in every house. We have seen fountains, opened by the liberality of a pious ancestry, so poisoned, that every stream they issued carried sterility and death through the provinces they were designed to fertilize. Next to the grace of God, and relying on his blessing, the best means of cleansing those waters, or damming these streams, is to prepare for the churches a full supply of scribes well instructed in the kingdom of God. And the hope could hardly be stronger, that the funds here deposited for that purpose, will be for ever held sacred to the design for which they were consecrated. The poor will feel a special interest in every transaction relative THE INDUSTRIOUS YOUNG PROPH5TS. 40(> to this institution. The fund subscribed is exclusively for then., and can never be diverted from their use. Here then is one in- stitution where envy can have no employ. Tht rich would nol be willing that the Christian public should educate tieir children, they would prefer to purchase the benefit. Once it was said, " To the poor the gospel is preached" now the poor may become qualified to preach the gospel. They may dispense the blessings which it has been their province to receive, may teach where it was their privilege to learn, may become beneficiaries to an extent that shall qualify them to become benefactors. Here, if you cannot educate your own children, and God has given them his grace, and they are otherwise qualified, you may send them to live by the temple and feed upon its offerings, till they are prepared to be prophets in Israel. 0, it must carry hope and joy into the habitations of poverty to day, to know that there is laid the foundation of an in- stitution, destined to pour its blessings exclusively upon the indi- gent ! This is a blessing that has lain so beyond their hopes as to have hardly been an object of their prayers. Before they have called, God has answered. Hence, to the full extent of their power they will pour into this fund the little streams of their cha- rity, and will watch the progress of its rising honors and its grow- ing interests with paternal fondness and solicitude. Nor will the rich have any feelings but those of pleasure. All other institutions have opened their doors to them, while this one. which promises promotion to the children of their poorer neigh- bors, will receive their patronage and their prayers. Nor can they know but their posterity may be poor, and one day hang their last hope on the promised aid of this kind and benevolent insti- tution. I cannot suppress my wish to recommend this institution to the patronage of females. They have recently signalized themselves as the friends of religion and of the gospel ministry. Many an ambassador of the cross owes his courage and his success, to their charities and their prayers. Here they will, have opportunity, I hope, to see some of their noblest wishes gratified. Here they may consecrate their charities, and toward this place may turn their eye when they pray, and find their spirits cheered, their prayers answered, and their hopes accomplished. In the zeal they show for these objects, they evince that they know how to appre- ciate their own comforts. The gospel, in addition to the promise of eternal life, renders them free, respected, and happy, in the life that now is. 52 4-10 THE IiNDUSTKlOUS YOUNG PROPHETS. This institution has a claim upon the patriot. No country is so blessed as when science and religion blend their influences, and shower upon society their united blessing. But tliis school, more than any other, will tend to that balance of influence, and approx- imate us toward that equality, which is ever the basis of a govern- ment like ours. It will raise the poor, widen the bonds of affec- tion, and vastly increase the amount of happiness. We hope to enlist in this benevolent design the whole aggregate of patriotism within the compass of its influence. The ministers of Christ will say, God speed, to an enterprize calculated to increase the laborers in the vineyard. We shall thus give evidence to the world, that all we say respecting the scarcity of ministers we fully believe ; for if things were otherwise, we could not act more unwisely for our own interest than to thus raise up rivals, who might rob us of our parishes and our bread. How it must gladden our aged fathers, to see an institution rise, designed to prolong the cry of glad tidings, which begins to die away upon their palsied lips. When they can address sinners no more, and can only cast an eye over the valley of vision, and sur- vey the vast fields of the slain, it will rejoice their hearts to see other prophets taking their stand by the side of that valley, intend- ing to prolong the prophecy till the dry bones have become living men. When the aged Elisha went with the young prophets to the banks of Jordan, to cheer them in their toils, and aid them with his counsels and his prayers, he showed a strong regard to the future welfare of Israel, and deeply engraved his memory upon the hearts of the young prophets. Unless I greatly mistake the feel- ings of my aged fathers, their eyes will be bright with joy while they see these walls go up. They will fall on their knees, and spread their hands toward heaven, and give us their dying bless- ing; and may their prayers return into their own bosom. If now, in my concluding remarks, I should address you as Christians, I would say, This institution, if permitted to rise, (and we look to God for this permission,) and if not grossly perverted from its original design, is connected intimately with the disper- sion of that Egyptian darkness which lias so long brooded over an apostate world ; with all that is interesting in the rescue of the idolater from his gods, the Papist from his relics and his saints, the Jew from his Talmud, the Mahometan from his Koran, the African from his chains, and the assassin from his pistol and his knife. You have enlightened views of your Maker, have a Bible, a sabbath, and a sanctuary, can feast at the table of the Lord, and THE IxNDUSTRIOUS YOUNG PROPHETS. 411 entertain hopes of a rich and happy immortality. I plead for those who are immortal like you, and like you must die, and be judged, but have never learned the true character of God, nor heard the story of a Savior, nor have discovered any escape from the glooms of the sepulchre ; who look to that home as the seat of perpetual darkness, forgetfulness and silence ; who have never kept a day of rest, and can hope to remit their toils, their cares and their mis- eries, only when their heads shall slumber on the turf. Religion would make them as happy as you, and heaven as blessed. But I do not appeal exclusively to piety, but to all the tender feel- ings of humanity. When you cast your eye over the dark places of the earth, which are full of the habitations of cruelty, every aspect of wretchedness which you descry, gives importance to the transactions of this day. We plead for the unhappy, for the lost, and the miserable. I think I see, without the aid of inspiration, a band of missionaries, educated in this school, issuing forth to chase misery from this polluted world. You are a father, are loved by your children, and cherished with that tenderness which your infirmities and your age require ; we plead for fathers, who in their declining years are deserted by their children, and left to perish by the frosts of age, who are borne to the bed of some river, that they may be swept away by the tide, and become the food of the shark or the alligator. You are a mother, and perhaps a widow, and your children would shrink from no sacrifice that might prolong your life, or soothe your pains or your cares ; I plead for mothers whose offspring are monsters, and can force them at the point of the spear upon the flames that are consuming the corpse of a husband, and can drown their dying shrieks in acclamations of infernal joy. You was left in your infancy an orphan, and have found in this inhospitable svorld a guardian and a friend, who has nursed your childhood, and watched your youth, and reared you to respectable and promising manhood ; I plead for orphans, \vli<> have no home but in the place of sculls, no house but the house of silence, where sleep the ashes of a merciless mother, no friend but death, who stops the rage of hunger, blunts the edge of care, extinguishes the fire of affection and hope, and finds the wretched a covert and a calm amid the clods of the valley. If the relief of miseries like these has the least connection with the events of this day, these events will have some claim upon the sympathy of every feeling heart. If we might only hope, that by means of this institution, one more missionary, than would other 412 THE INDUSTRIOUS YOUISG PR01 HETS. wise be educated, will enter the fields of labor, and go to some one province of this dark world, and there create a light that shall guide home to heaven one benighted. soul, it would be worth all the pains and the wealth that shall be expended in founding this school. "The redemption of the soul is precious and it ceaseth for ever." You might cover that field with silver and gold, and if the whole would buy off one soul from perdition it would be well expended. And I must believe that more than one missionary will be sent, and more than one sinner be redeemed, by the means that are here providing ; and in the boundless joys thus generated, shall find all the reward I wish, for any plea I can offer, or any exertions I can make, to advance this interest. If we are utterly mistaken, and any feel otherwise, we rejoice that the field of labor is large. They may glorify God in some other way, may feed the poor, disperse the Scriptures, support the missionaries already educated, or educate others in some other school. Or if any will neither aid this charity nor any other, and their consciences will approve of their neutrality, they shall re- ceive no reproach from us if they do nothing. If we are disposed to do good, and our motive is the glory of God, it will ill become us to reproach others. To their own master they stand or fall. In the mean time, I hope that those who cannot conscientiously labor with us, will utter no reproaches, nor make any effort to dam the streams of charity that might flow to this centre, and issue hence to carry their fertilizing influence through the wastes of this miserable world. If once the object was good, it is so still. If unhappily some may not have had in view the Divine glory in their most zealous efforts, still the character of the institution is not changed, nor its importance diminished, nor its claims cancel- led. I close with one remark to the friends of this institution. How important is it, that we suitably prize and improve the ministry established among us. What will it avail us that we have pitied the destitute, and the heathen, if at last we die impeni- tent, and sink below them in perdition. We may send them the Bible and the ambassador of peace, and still neglect that book and that ministry, and die unsanctioned. The ministry can be a bless- ing to the heathen, only as it may become the means of their con- version ; hence to feel anxious for them, and found an institution with a view to furnish them a ministry, and yet under the full ad- vantages of that ministry live without God ami without Christ in the world, is to act with unpardonable disregard of our first best duty. It would be a fearful event, if finally we should lift up our THE INDUSTRIOUS YOUNG PROPHETS. 413 voice and weep and say, "My mother's children made me the keeper of the vineyards, but mine own vineyard have I not kept." Each of us has a soul that must live for ever, that must be washed in a Savior's blood, or must endure the terrors of his wrath ; to save this soul is our first concern, and we may wake in its interests too late. If we should give all our goods to feed the poor, and our bodies to be burned, and yet lack that charity to which salvation is promised, we should die fools at the last. It is true that the religion of the gospel is benevolent ; it is true that the covetous man is an idolater, and has not eternal life abiding in him, but there is also a religion which all evaporates in care for the safetv of others, which has little to do with the closet, or the heart, or the Bible, or heaven. 0 let this day bring us all to our knees. Let the walls of this edifice be bedewed with the tears of repent- ance, and may we all be pillars or polished stones in the mystical temple, which Christ is erecting, that when the top-stone is laid we may be there to aid the shout, Grace, grace unto it. " Amen even so come. Lord Jesus, come quickly." SERMON XXXV. THE NATURE AND RESULTS OF SAXCTZFICATION. john xvrr. ]7. Sanctify them through thy truth; thy word is truth. Our Lord Jesus Christ was a perfect man. This we must be- lieve as confidently as we believe his divinity, else we shall have confused ideas of many portions of divine truth. And as he was a perfect man, and would be in all things a pattern of what his people should be, he must have a perfect religious character, and perform the Christian duties as far as they would be applicable to his exalted nature. Hence, we often find him engaged in prayer. Whatever difficulty there may be in the idea of a divine Re- deemer's praying, the fact we are bound to believe. In his infe- rior character as Mediator, he acted by commission from the Father, and would take instructions from him, and put confidence in him. When the last scene was coming on, and he knew that soon he must hang upon the tree, he offered that memorable prayer from which the text is selected. He prayed most tenderly for Ids people ; and among the first blessings asked, he prayed for their sanctification through the truth. There cluster about this subject many interesting questions, to some of which I purpose to turn your attention. I. What do the Scriptures mean by sanctification \ Sometimes it means being set apart to sacred use. Thus every seventh day is sanctified. " God blessed the seventh day, and sanctified it " Thus the tabernacle and temple, the priests and altars, and sacrifi- ces, and all the sacred things of the Jewish dispensation were sanctified. God speaks of sanctifying his name, which he does when by his judgments lie rebukes the gainsayers, and stills their blasphemies. He thus convinces men that he is holy. I could name many other uses of the term sanctification; but its principal use, and that intended in the te.Tt, is, in application to the work of rendering an unholy creature holy. Men are by nature THE NATURE AXD RESULTS OF SANCTIFICM HON. 415 unholy. They exercise forbidden affections, and do not put forth the affections that God requires. The prayer of Christ in the text was. that his followers, through the instrumentality of truth, might be made what God requires them to be ; having the affections of the heart, and, of course, the deeds of the life, conformable to the divine law. II. Another question may here very properly be, — When does this holiness begin 1 And the answer is obvious. It begins at the moment of regeneration. Till then, all the exercises are unholy ; for " the carnal mind is enmity against God." Nor is there any degree of alarm, or any amount of conviction, that can generate one holy affection in the heart, previously to this period. Of course all the prayers offered, and all the exertions made, prior to this change, are unregenerate prayers and exertions. Nor can it be believed, consistently with correct Scripture views, that, ante- rior to this moment, there is any approximation toward correct feeling. No alarm, nor the most distinct conviction, can bring an unregenerate man to feel any more correctly toward God, or any holy object, than he did in a state of carelessness and security. And although we would not pretend to say that the Divine influence in the hour of awakening may not restrain the sinner, and hold him back from the blasphemous thoughts and affections which he might otherwise put forth, yet in all this there is no holiness. And then it may be a question whether the sinner, under alarm, does not wax worse and worse, till the moment of passing from death unto life. If he has more light — if he sees more distinctly the objects of his implacable hatred, does he not obviously rise in his hatred, till it is changed into love ? This point, however, il i ■ not my object to press. We must concede that holiness I when the heart is changed. III. Is it always small in its beginning ? Does that text in which the kingdom of God is compared to a grain of mustard seed, and that other where it is compared to leaven, teach us that grace in the heart is thus small at the first 1 Or do they illustrate the pri- mitive smallness of the Christian Church, and its ultimate growth and enlargement ! They may be in. ■•mm to apply in both c but aside from these texts, we are taught unequivocally in the Scriptures, that the believer is, at the first, sanctified but in ;i small degree, and that he "grows in grace" till he arrives at the fulness of the stature of o perfect man in Christ Jesus. He is at the 416 THE NATURE AND RESULTS OF SANCTIFICATION. a "babe, and has need of milk, and not of strong meat." After wards, he " forgets the things that are behind, and reaches forth to those things that are before, and presses toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus." The light that has shined in upon him shines "brighter and brighter unto the perfect day." Hence, we gather, that though the work of re- generation is from its very nature instantaneous, the work of sanc- tification is progressive, and is, at the first, comparatively small. IV. But how will this comport with what believers have thought was their experience — that at the first they felt a glow of holy af- fection, which they termed their first love, which afterward they lost \ And the Scriptures, they have supposed, favored the idea. " Thus saith the Lord, I remember thee, the kindness of thy youth. the love of thine espousals, when thou wentest after me in the wilderness, in a land that was not sown." But was that love of espousals, thus accredited to Israel, all holy love 1 — or was it not, in great part at least, merely that natural joy which might arise from the comfort, and pride, and novelty of their emancipation ? It surely soon vanished, and they murmured, and made them gods, under whose guidance they purposed to return to Egypt. And that whole congregation, you know, died in the wilderness. They were, evidently, as a body, destitute of holiness; hence their love of espousals must be explained as something else than delight in God. But why may not the same be said often of that joy with which the heart of the new-born seems to overflow 1 Can we be allowed to believe it is all holy love to God 1 There can be, as yet, but little knowledge of God, or of truth. Hence that strong affection can hardly be allowed to flow wholly from objects so dimly seen. Is there not often far greater probability, that it is the mere effu- sion of animal affection \ Or, at leasr, that it has far more of na- ture in it than of grace. There may not seem, afterword, the same hilarity ; but is there not more knowledge of truth and duty, and more stability in the way of God, more fixed principles of ac- tion, more humility, and more undeviating confidence in the Sa- vior 1 In which position would the believer most readily go to the stake, and lay down his life for hi> Master '. when, during the first month of his regeneracy, he lills the air with his song ! or, when a few years afterward, he has learned the corruption of his heart, and at times, perhaps, hardly dare hope that he is born of God '. THE NATURE AND RESULTS OF SA NOTIFICATION. 4] 7 May not the joy abate, and there be, at the same time, an increase of the principle of holiness that develops a heavenly mind 1 Sure- ly it is the believer of continued experience, and not the man re- newed but yesterday, that is rooted and grounded in the trutl who cannot be driven about with every wind of doctrine. Whether this question is decided right, however, I wish each one to judge for himself. V. Another question arising out of this subject is — does the good man at all times advance in holiness? and arc we so to un- derstand that text, " The righteous shall hold on his way" ! Here, perhaps, again, it is not easy to come at what we are sure is truth. I have believed that it is otherwise, and that, while there are times when the good man progresses rapidly, there are other times when he makes no progress, and others, again, when the progress of ho- liness, if I may so speak, is backward. Thus Israel, sometimes, bent their track directly to the promised land, at other times did not move for many days, and at other times marched retrograde. So we have seen the plant spring up and grow as if life was in it. and then perhaps for weeks seem stationary, and then again with- ering under drought, and seemingly about to perish. Whether these analogies may teach us truth or mislead us, still I have be- lieved it thus with the child of God. And the only position con- tested, 1 believe, is, whether the Christian is ever in the way to do himself essential injury. That broad promise, "All things shall work together for good to them that love God," has been used as implying the negative. That the promise is true, and that the full import of it will be accomplished, there cannot be a doubt. But what is its import 1 Does God merely promise, in this pre- cious text, that all the events of Ids prmud'nce shall conspire to bring his people to a higher seat in heaven 1 Or does he promise all this, and more too, that their very backsliding shall conspire to the same result 1 Would he promise, that if they forsake him, and sin by going after their idols, this very sin shall tend to purify them! Would it be safe to trust a wandering believer with such a promise in his hand ! Is it reasonable to believe that it will tend to the health and growth of the heavenly mind, to have it wounded, and polluted, and ensnared by transgression ! Have we any assurance that Peter and David might not have reached i nobler Christian stature, if they had stood linn in the hour of temptation? 1 confess, I thb*k there is no such assurance 53 418 THE NATURE AND RESULTS OF SANCTIFICATION Do not facts warrant us to believe that Christian minds of the same powers and opportunities, have made different degrees of ad- vance in the ways of God 1 The one is seen to climb the steeps of Zion, with brisk and steady step, and far outgo the other, while in us there appears no reason why the other might not have lea in the enterprise. The professor who comes at length to the grave in old age, and, as we hope, a believer, but who can look hack upon whole years of relapse and of wandering, has he those marks of maturity, and that animating hope, and that strong and conquering faith, seen in the man who moved steadily on in the ways of God, till his Master called him 1 You are thinking, per- haps, while you read, of two old men, contemporaries who died, it may be in the same year, members of the same communion, the one having hardly deviated from the path of life an hour, while the other has seemed to be alternately a Christian or a worldling, as the times were. Now which of them seemed manifestly to fall asleep in Jesus, while the other was saved perhaps, though as by fire 1 You have all answered me. Pass through our Churches, and tell me where is the venerated man of God, who is to the world around him a walking conscience, and carries heaven on his brow, in whose life there have not been some dark seasons of marked, and guilty, and hurtful relapse 1 Let me say, I do not believe that the Christian does make uniform progress in holiness, but does some times become stationary, and sometimes retrograde in the heavenly road. VI. Are we then to believe, that while every Christian in heaven will be perfect, there will still be a difference in their Christian sta- ture, and their amount of enjoyment proportioned to their industry in acquiring holiness in the present life 1 Ou this point there can be very little doubt. There will be a difference in heaven among re- deemed spirits, as one star differeth from another star in glory. Doubtless God will have employment for them all in his kingdom. As in a building there is a variety of materials, places to fill requir- ing more and less strength, but all necessary ; so in that mystic temple whose topstone is to be laid in heaven with shouting, Grac unto it, there may he required, to give it its greatest strength and beaut y, souls of very different capacities. VII. It is then obvious that we are ourselves selecting the posi- tion we shall occupy in heaven, if any. On our industry wi THE NATURE AND RESULTS OF S/i NOTIFICATION. 419 pend our growth ; and on our growth our station in the kingdom of the Redeemer. And how can men be indifferent what is the position they shall hold among the redeemed in heaven ! Increas- ing holiness bears its present fruits, gives its immediate as well as its future rewards. In what other enterprise, then, shall we be so ambitious to succeed as in this 1 If there is any one thing stir- prising above all others, it is that believers in Christ should be slow to put on his image. The Psalmist would never be satisfied till he awaked from death in the likeness of his Redeemer. There is surely no joy like that which is begotten by a holy temper : — hence, how can one who has tasted this joy, find any other plea- sures, which, for a single hour, can become its substitute] Let me close by presenting a few motives to engaging with ardor in this heavenly enterprise. 1. I have hinted that we shall be happy in proportion as we are holy. We are mistaken in supposing that any particular circum- stances are requisite to render us happy. There is but one thing requisite, likeness to Jesus Christ. And this is a happiness within the reach of us all, in proportion as we are willing to exercise his temper, and copy his example, and put on his image. Hence that rich and precious intimation* " Christ in you the hope of glory." 2. We shall be useful, other things being equal, in proportion as we are holy. No good man can be satisfied who feels himself to be living to no purpose. Find me the Christian who is never hap- py, and, sure as life, he is never useful. He is a cumberer of the ground, and can never reflect on the day that has gone by with pleasure. The man who is not aiming to bless his generation may dig after comforts, but he can never find them. He may read all the promises over, day by day, but there will not be found a word of consolation for him. He might derive more from some act of real Christian benevolence, than he does from a whole Bible full of consolations : and to be holy is the way to be useful. To fol- low Christ has an eloquence in it that no exhortation, nor argu- ment can hold out. "Be ye followers of me, as dear children." 3. There is dignity and character in being holy, that nothing else can produce. What man is great like him who walks in the con- sciousness of exercising the same affections that Christ dor-; ! In what matter should not men feel indifferent, rather than ho willing to be losers in this mighty concern 1 How can it seem a small thing, whether we put on, or not, the character that glows in the view of heaven] the character that he wears who receives the homage 420 THE NATURE AND RESULTS OF SANCTIFICATION. of all the redeemed, and is adored by cherubim and seraphim 1 How comparatively trifling a matter is it, that we are honorable in the estimation of those who judge according to the outward ap- pearance. The apostle could say to his enemies, It is a small thing that I should be judged of you, or of man's judgment. How noble his character, while he thus regarded supremely the inward adornings of holiness ! Would we then aim at character — charac- ter that will stand the test when worlds are burned up — let us press on after holiness SERMON XXXVI. THE MEANS OF SANCTIFICATION. JOHN XVII. 17. Sanctify them through thy truth ; thy word is truth. The grand purpose for which God gave to men a revelation of his will, was, that the truth thus revealed might be the medium of their sanctification. It is hence spoken of as the sword of the Spirit, the Sanctifier. If it be asked, Why God does not make men holy without the use of truth, we answer, that he would not thus treat them as moral agents. There must be in that case a mere act of his sovereignty, and man become virtuous without de- sign. Indeed, it seems to me to be keeping within the record to say, that men cannot be saved without a knowledge of Divine truth, in consistency with the nature God has given them, and the heaven he has provided for holy beings. The very nature of holi- ness implies that men have felt the force of truth, and yielded voluntarily to its influence. To repent implies, that we see the truths, that the law is good, and that we have broken it, while we were under the most sacred obligations to obey it. And faith im- plies, that we feel distinctly the truths, that we are lost, that Christ is able and willing to save, and has warranted us to make application to him. Hence men cannot be forcibly made to repent and believe, not acting themselves, voluntarily, in view of truth, without an infringement of their agency. Or, rather, such faith and repentance, if we could suppose its existence, would not be their own act, and could not, on the Gospel plan, avail them to salVation. Let us then inquire, how and why Divine truth is used in rendering men holy. I. It presents to view the objects of holy affection. To lovt God is a holy affection. But God cannot be loved, till men are acquainted with his character. In his word, his character is all presented. Had we no Bible, we might see his mighty power and Godhead in the works of creation ; but only in the oracles of God do wo see his whole character. There every attribute is written, 422 THE MEANS OF SA .NOTIFICATION. and the full Deity made known. Now, if we have vhat temper to which goodness is lovely, we shall not fail to love him. The complete character of the Lord Jesus Christ is, in the same book of God, revealed for our faith. We can see for ourselves, whether he has those attributes we can love, and is such a Savior as we can trust in. There could be no faith in him without this delineation of his character. The Christian character, also, is presented in the Bible, as the object of our affectionate regard. We there learn the divine law, and have opportunity to approve : and the same may be said in reference to every holy object on which God requires us to place our esteem And we learn, too, in the same book, the objects ive are required to hate ; fur holiness consists in feeling disgust towards the ob- jects of unrighteousness, as well as complacency in righteous- ness. There we learn the temper of our hearts, and all the moral wrong in ourselves that we are to loathe and repent of. Thus a primary use of truth in our sanctification is to present us with the character of the objects toward which we are to exercise holy affections, the objects we are required to love, and the objects we are required to hate. II. Another use of truth is to present motives to the exercise of the right affections. The Bible amply assures us, that holiness is a lovely attribute of character. It is what renders God lovely, and angels, and the whole family of the redeemed. Hence holi- ness is indispensable to good character ; and here is a motive to aim at a high standard of holiness. The Bible assures us, that only where there is holiness there is happiness. This begets the peace and joy that reign in heaven ; while its opposite has occasioned the ruin of this world, and the miseries of hell. These facts are so amply illustrated in the word of God, as to show the loveliness of virtue, and the hatefulness of vice, thus presenting us new motives to become holy. The Bible presents motives to holiness, by drawing out holiness and depravity to their final result in heaven and in hell. In the one world, holi- ness has produced its full effect in the everlasting peace and bless- edness of its population ; in the other, too, its full effect in the unspeakable misery of its hopeless inmates. Thus Bible truth presents men with motives to become holy, and being urged home oy the Spirit of God upon the understanding and conscience, is the medium of sanctification. THE MEANS OF SANCTIFICATIOM. 423 III. As holiness must beget the love of holiness, it must also produce love to that truth which is the medium of its own produc- tion. The Christian, then, wishing to progress in that holiness which is begun in him, will be the friend of Bible truth, will aim to grow in the knowledge of it. As this is seen to be the medium of his cleansing, and as he now aspires to be clean, he must desire to know more of truth. All Bible truth will please him, for it all has one and the same effect, his cleansing. He will thus be a diligent student of the Bible, and will never feel that he knows enough of it, while there remains in his heart or life one moral pollution to be cleansed away. IV. It will follow then, of course, that the Christian who is a child in Bible knowledge, will be a child in holiness. To the same extent that he remains ignorant of divine truth, he will remain un- sanctified ; and men will learn, without inquiring of him, how much attention he gives the sacred valume. Apparent exceptions to this position are easily explained. We have seen men of small intel- lect and small acquisitions in science, generally, who yet appeared to be rapidly growing in holiness. In such cases, it will always be found, on a close acquaintance, that, though the man may have no general knowledge, he is daily conversant with the testimonies of the Lord. If one will learn sanctifying truth, he may become sanctified, though he may remain ignorant of other truth. We fre- quently meet with the contrast of this case ; men possessing a large amount of general knowledge, but knowing little about their Bible ; in which case there will not be seen much advancement in the stature of piety. If we are acquainted merely with men and money; though we may be ac ite worldlings, this knowledge will not tend to purify the heart. The knowledge that will render us holy is to be gathered from the word of the Lord. " Sanctify them through thy truth." V. It would seem to be a truth unquestionable that the man who is under the process of sanctification, will have an increasing thirst for a knowledge of divine truth, till he dies. As the heart be- comes purified, the love of truth, the means of its purifying, must increase. And let the thirst for truth increase, and it needs no ar- gument to prove that men will grow in the knowledge of it. We shall find, then, no believer who thinks he knows enough of the Bible, no man, however old, or infirm, or poor, or occupied, or neglected, if he has begun to be sanctified, who will not wish, by 424 THE .MEANS OF SANCTIFICATIO.W learning more truth, to nourish the spiritual life that is begun. More a*.id more, as the cleansing operation goes on, and he feels the pleasure of being holy, will his mind be open to conviction, and the truth become adapted to his taste as the honey and the honeycomb. The love of truth, in the aged believer, becomes his strongest appetite. Old men are not accustomed, you know, to abandon, in their latter years, the objects of their appetite. How often do they rather become the slaves of some strong governing principle, which is seen at last to be mightier in death than ever! And in the man of God, who is struggling with his corruptions, and desperately bent on the masteiy, the appetite for truth must be the ruling passion while his eye can see or his ear hear, or his mind perceive, or his heart and conscience be impressed. He will carry his Bible with him to his death-bed, and put it by his pillow, Mid glance his dying eye upon its pages, and ask the by-standers to teach him, and will be digesting some heavenly truth when life goes out ; and the nourishment afforded his soul, by that last re- flection, will add the finishing stroke to his sanctification. How can it be otherwise 1 Whomsoever it may condemn, though it tear from myself the last hope I have, still it must be true, that as grace advances in the heart, the love of truth will be enkindled. As there can be no natural health, and the bodyr cannot be strong and vigorous after the appetite is gone ; so is there no spiritual health, and the inner man is sickly and nerveless, where the:e is no relish for truth. The case cannot be, where there is growth in grace accompanied with a disrelish for the study of divine truth. VI. It would seem, then, that it cannot be a light thing to reject, or disrelish any doctrine of the Bible. Every doctrine must have its use in rendering men holyr, else it had not been taught in that Bible sent to sanctify the world. God knew exactly what the case required, what system of truth the Spirit could use to the best ad- vantage, in rendering the world holy, and this he has published. Hence, no part of it may be rejected as unwholesome, or innutri- tious. Suppose a table spread, day by day, byr one who perfectly knew our constitutions, knew any disease that might be lurking about the body, or any danger of the season or the climate that needed to be guarded against, and we should presume to say, that one article upon the table was injurious to health, and never taste it ; how exactly would the case resemble that of the man who ima- gines he has found, in the book of sanctifying truth, one doctrine of pernicious tendency. How arrogant, in the preacher of the THE MEANS OF SANCl'IFICATION. J. '25 gospel, to lay his hand on any doctrine which he may not preach, or any duty he may not enforce, or promise or threatening which he may not deal out to the friends or the foes of God ! And how mistaken his people, who would have him suppress any paragraph, or hold back any doctrine or maxim of the word of the Lord ! Who can judge as well as he who gave the word"? Who, among the army that publish it, or the multitude who hear it, can tell bet- ter than he, what kind of truth is suited to the exigency of a be- trayed and ruined world 1 VII. It would seem, then, a matter of course, that sanctification will be going on among the various classes of Christians, more or less prosperously, in proportion to the amount of truth embraced in their system. We may even determine, by this criterion, what denomination is built the most substantially on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ himself being the chief cor- ner-stone. There may be in a human system some truth, but not the whole truth. There may be so much error as shall greatly counteract the effect of truth. The system thus made out may be somewhat calculated to sanctify ; and yet not the best calculated. It may nourish a sickly and palsied religion, while it can never pro- duce the strong, and vigorous, and useful man of God. It may contain truth enough to bring men to heaven, and yet never pro- duce, to shine in the firmament of God, many stars of the first magnitude. In choosing our religion this one question should be kept prominently in view : which is that that makes the most en- lightened, the most benevolent, the most holy and heavenly temper 1 for there we shall assuredly find the most truth and the least error. VIII. Slight not believers be sooner ripe for heaven 1 or, rather, might they not all be qualified in the time that God allows them, after their second birth, for a higher seat in heaven than they do ordinarily reach 1 Yes. They could learn more truth, could learn it faster, and digest it better, and grow more vigorously, and pass earlier the boundaries of Christian childhood, and thus arrive ear- lier at the fulness of the stature of perfect men in Christ Jesus. 1. May not that truth which is learned before regeneration, oper- ate afterward to the forwarding of the believer in holiness 1 Yes. It matters not how early truth is known. Give it then a free en- trance at the first opening of the mind, and pray that it may please the Spirit of God to use it for sanctification. The smallest lad in 54 426 THE MEANS OF SANCT1FICATI0N. the school may be learning now what will be useful and r.recious truth to him, when he shall be shining a mighty orb in his profes- sion, or afterward in heaven. 2. Is there not more hope, then, that the children in our Sab- bath-schools will be converted, than those who are to-day lining the fields, and fishing along the banks of the brook 1 No doubt. They will have treasured up truth to exert a sanctifying and ele- vating influence when the times of refreshing shall come from the presence of the Lord. 3. Will not revivals prevail in the next generation, among a younger class of sinners than in times past 1 Doubtless. As we approach the millenium, and the Sabbath-schools shall have ma- tured minds earlier for reading and reflecting, a younger and still younger generation will be sanctified, till our revivals will all be in the Sabbath-schools ; and God will at length ordain praise, according to his promise, from the mouths of babes and sucklings. 4. And shall we not have then in our churches more active young men, and a race of fathers and mothers that shall shine brighter in the Church of God 1 Yes, young men will be indeed " strong," and the patriarchal age will return, and every gray head will indicate the presence of wisdom and holiness ; thus, there will be far more select and pure assemblages for the supper of the Lamb. 5. And will not this be then a holier and happier world 1 So the prophet sung: " The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid, and the calf, and the young lion, and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them." 6. And will there not then ascend to God nobler recruits of the family of believers than in any of the ages that have gone by '! Yes ; new constellations will appear in heaven. And the various successions of the sanctified that shall then, at different times, come home to glory, will for ever shine more brilliantly in the kingdom of their Father. 7. And can we do nothing to hasten on that day, and swell the hallelujahs of heaven'? Yes; let us seize the dear youth or child, wIki a year or two hence will feel himself too old to be a scholar, and press him into the Sabbath-school and Bible class, and have his mind imbued with holy truth, before he irets that, palsying maxim, u too oA/." Let ns all gird ourselves anew; let us cheer- fully discharge every obligation ; and let it be our holy ambition to share largely in the coming glory. They that lie wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament ; and they that turn many to right* tousness, as the stars for ever and ever. SERMON XXX VII. THE GREAT PHYSICIAN. PSALMS CI II. 3. Who healeih all thy diseases. This Paalm appears to have been a song of thanksgiving on bein<* recovered fro n sickness. Hence it is full of those tender recol- lections that are prone to recur to the pious mind in such a sea- son." " He will not always chide, neither will he keep his anger for ever." "He hath not dealt with us after our sins, nor rewarded us according to our iniquities." " Like as a father pitieth his child- ren, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him : for he knoweth our frame, he remembereth that we are dust." With a mind filled with such reflections, David came with his thank-offering to God, and called upon his soul, and all that was within him, to bless that infinite goodness which preserved him in the time of his calamity. It is, however, quite immaterial on what occasion the Psalmist ascribes to God the praise of healino- all his diseases. In nothing, perhaps, can pious minds see more distinctly the good hand of God, than in the plagues and pains to which sin has subjected their dying bodies. I. Disease itself affords us one of our richest luxuries. This remark will seem more paradoxical than it really is. But I pre- sume no one who has been laid upon the bed of pain, will consider the proposition false. There are moments, when, as the poet sings, We shift from side to side by tarns, And 'tis a poor relief we ?ain, To change the place but keep the pain. In the attacks of disease, the jaded spirit is restless and perhaps rebellious. A day has sometimes seemed an age, and a night a little eternity. The sun has seemed to stop in his course, and the moon has delayed her going down. The index that told of the passing hoi;rs, seemed riveted to the point where it stood. 428 THE GREAT PHYSICIAN. But the paroxism subsides, and the pleasure then felt in a single moment, outweighs an hour of perfect health. To be able to breathe without a groan, is then more pleasant, than when one may wander the fields in May, and catch the richest, softest zephyr that ever fanned creation. In these precious intervals, every minute gathers the comforts of an hour, and every hour the plea- sures of a month. It is impossible to describe, to one who has not known the joy of a kind and timely release from the fierceness of disease, the exquisite enjoyments of such an hour. And in this we see the goodness of God. " Sorrow may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." There may remain still great weakness, and much, that in other circumstances, would be called distress; but this is all forgotten amid the luxury of a temporary release, and a hope still better. One that has entirely escaped those severe attacks which immediately strip life of its comforts, darkens every prospect, and unhinges the mind from the pursuit of science, friendship, and piety, has failed to enjoy one of the sweetest repasts ever tasted, except in some hours of divine re- freshment. Now, how good is God, that, since we deserve and expect to be scourged, he should mingle, with the pains and mis- eries of the sick-bed, such high enjoyments ! Should enable us to extract from the very agonies of a tortured body, high and precious delights ! If I should look through the fields of creation, for some one high and paramount testimony of the Divine beneficence, be- side the gift a Savior, I should despair of finding one that would lead me more promptly to absolute assurance of God's love, than I am led by the seasons of gracious relief that interlard the ago- nies of the sick-bed. But for these relaxations from suffering, how soon would nature sink, even by the slightest disease ! How many days would one endure the unceasing rage of a burning fever X the perpetual throbbing of a mangled limb \ the gripe of a cholic 1 or even the aching of a tooth 1 How soon would life go out in agony, with any disease that attacks us, did not nature re- cruit her strength, while the disease intermits its rage. A few hours, when the pains have been unceasing, have often brought to the sepulchre the very champions of our race, men who had seemed to defy death, in any other armor, but the forked lightning, or the eruptions of some treacherous iEtna or Vesuvius. Now, ;i 442 THE MAM OF GOD DEVELOPED. not rendered tenfold more the children of hell, than previously to their having been discipled ; let me ask whether the means of grace used with them, are thus increased 1 and whether their pros- pects of heaven are thus brightened 1 That same gospel, which would induce the unsanctified, without being renewed, to avow themselves believers, and thus teach them in the outset to utter a lie ; would not be very likely to teach, them much truth, after their being drawn within the covenant. And moreover, if an impression contrary to truth must be made to bring them to the house of God, or within the enclosures of a Christian church, it is very doubtful, whether they would after- ward listen seriously to the truth. The same pleasant song that charmed them at the first, must continue to hold them, or they would escape like the bird from the grasp of the charmer. They must have a gospel as false throughout, as was that first lesson, that induced them to quit visibly the fellowship of infidelity. And if so, they remain in all the darkness of their former state, with no more chance of being enlightened, than under the ministration of a Bramin, or a Mufti. Or suppose your polished and soothing preacher has done his part, and induced the infidel to abandon his creed, for some general confession of the truth of the Bible, its doctrines having been frittered down till he is satisfied ; and he has exchanged the school of infidelity for the Church of Christ ; — ■ suppose this done, and the child thus born delivered over to be nursed, and reared, under a better gospel ; let me ask, if that on.e fatal error, which he has adopted, will not operate like a corrupt leaven, to poison the whole system of truth. You may bring the man to the sanctuary, where is taught the faith once delivered to the saints, and chain him to his pew, and pour in truth upon his car for half a century, and still you will never reach his conscience, till you make him feel, and he becomes willing to learn, that his heart is alienated from God, and that the profession he has made is a lie. You must teach him that the whole head is sick, and the whole heart faint; that he is an alien from the commonwealth of Israel, and is not, and never has been, in covenant with God ; and thus at the very first push of truth, thrust him from his strong hold, or he stands shielded against any attack that can be made upon him by the true gospel. Thus in order to make him listen to the truth, or in other words, to furnish him better means of grace, you bring him up to the communion table, and when there you can make him feel DOthing, till you show him, that the incense nnd the sacrifice he offers is abomination to the Lord. THE MAN OF GOD DEVELOPED 443 It docs seem to me that when you have made the unrenewed man a professor of godliness, you have placed him where he can- not be taught the gospel. You have prepared him a shield for his conscience and his heart, that will effectually protect him, against any thrust that truth can make. It is then doubted, whether seal- ing ordinances are at all likely to become means of grace, to wick- ed men, who are admitted to those ordinances, while in impeni- tence and unhelief. I take it for granted, what is too evident to -admit a doubt, that a mere profession does not alter the man's moral character in the least. He believes no truth that he did not believe before, is as much an infidel as ever, and does no duty that he did not ; unless you please to say that coming to the communion is a duty, and this we deny. To do so is duty, if the heart be right with God, not otherwise. Indeed nothing is done, that deserves the name of duty while God is not feared and loved. And nothing will he at- tempted to be done in this case, merely because God commands it, but all because consistency of conduct requires it. There may be some attempt at prayer, and greater punctuality in attending upon a preached gospel, but it must all be, from the very nature of the case, a show of piety. The profession has not altered the man, either in heart or conduct, enough to give him another cha- racter, either in the view of God or man. How then are his means of holiness, or his chance of heaven at all altered for the better \ Beside there is produced by attending upon ordinances, when there is no piety, a positive hardness of heart, and obtuseness of conscience, which tends to remove the man farther than ever from God. It is trifling with the most holy things, and the man who shall do this, must rise to a pitch of profanity and of daring, that cannot fail to beget an abiding insensibility. It is like the deed of Uzziah, king of Judah, who, for daring to assume the priest's office, was made a leper, and continued so all his life. God will be sanctified in them that draw near to him. Thus are we driven to the conclusion, that when the ungodly come to the consecrated elements, their means of grace are not increased, while their pros- pects of heaven are greatly darkened. I close with one general REMARK. How above all price is an honest and distinguishing gospel. In the 1. Place, such a gospel is the only true gospel. My audience, I 444" THE MAN OF GOD DEVELOPED. hope, are persuaded, that we have a distinguishing Bibta. God intended, when he inspired his word, to give us, not the means of guessing at the truth, but of knowing it. " Ye shall know the truth and the truth shall make you free." Hence he has made his word plain, so that the wayfaring man, though a fool, shall not err. Now we should depart from honesty, to either teach, or suffer our- selves to be taught, indistinctly, from this plain Bible. There must be some base design, when the truth of God, that stands in- telligible on the record, is rendered obscure and confused in the lips of the publisher. The doctrines clearly taught in the Bible, must be made evident by the preacher ; and the characters, there distinctly marked, not be by him blended and confounded : else we can easily be sure, that we have not before us the honest legate of the skies. 2. It is only an honest and distinguishing gospel, that does honor to the Savior. Its grand object is to redeem men from all iniquity, and purify to the Lord Jesus Christ a peculiar people, zealous of o-ood works. The Church it gathers, and feeds, and comforts, has on the image of her Lord, stands out from the world, an illustrious monument of his sanctifying power, and tells all the generations that pass by, how holy, and how glorious, and how mighty, is her Redeemer. Christ has declared that his people are like him, he is formed in them the hope of glory. But if you mix up the Church with the world, and the people of the saints of the Most High can- not be known from the multitudes with whom they are amalga- mated, and you call this whole mass the Church, which is expect- ed to wear the image of her Lord, then you grossly libel his cha- racter. If the ungodly, as they look upon this Church, are to learn from its character, what is the character of the Savior; and from its conduct, what is the life and conversation he would approve ; and from its temper, what is the Spirit of Christ; then is the Savior degraded and abused by such a Church, and the whole design of lis mission covered with reproach. He came to save his people from their sins. Arc these, then, the people he has saved ! these worldlings I these profane men \ these gamblers 1 these covetous men 7. these ambitious men ! these proud, litigious, thoughtless, prayerless men 1 Are all these the saved of Jesus Christ ? this the multitude that he has washed from their sins in his blood! ! Thus an indistinct gospel builds up a worldly Church, and that Church by its open, and barefaced, and abounding iniquities, brings reproach and contempt upon its Redeemer. But let the Church THE MAN OF GOD DEVELOPED 44-5 be pure as he would have it, be composed of only such as will put on his image and glory in being like him ; then the world will take knowledge of them that they have been with Jesus, and he will be honored in the house of his friends. 3. It is only an honest and distinguishing gospel that will be useful. It gives tbe means of knowing their own character. Its very first object is to distinguish between the clean and the unclean, be- tween him that serveth God, and him that serveth him not. Then the Christian discovers that he is in Christ Jesus, and takes the comfort of it ; and the unregenerate learn that they are in the gall of bitterness, and under the bonds of iniquity, and feel the pain of it, and apprehend the danger of it. He will have many a song, and they feel many a pang under such a gospel; he may have high hopes of future blessedness, and they many strong anticipations of the wrath to come. A gospel that is not distinguishing, by building up a worldly Church, withholds from sinners one of the mightiest means of grace. There is nothing that so much affects men, as to see reli- gion embodied, and acted out by the people of God. The gospel then presents itself to their consciences in a living shape, and carries with it an influence that is irresistible. There the law is, and there the gospel is, right before their eyes all day in their houses, and in their streets ; and they must die or embrace it. But under a loose and indistinct gospel, there is no such example, and of course no such influence exerted. If there should be some few in the Church, who honor the religion they profess, which is not very likely under a gospel that does not feed them with the truth, still their influence will not be felt. They will be nicknamed, and des- pised, and cast out, as sour, unsocial and austere beings, of whom none may speak kindly, and with whom none will associate. Thus the ungodly under such a gospel, lack one of the most efficacious means of grace. Hence under such a gospel there is no reason to hope, that sin ners will repent and turn to God, and live. Men will not be alarmed till they know their danger, nor will know their danger till they learn their true character. Hence under a gospel, that does not distinguish, that rears not a pious Christian Church, that mixes up the Lord's people with the world, calls the whole con- gregation brethren, and deals out the promises without discrimina- tion ; sinners cannot be said to enjoy the means of grace, will never 446 THE MAN OF GOD DEVELOPED. become alarmed, and will never repent, and will die in their sins and where Christ is they can never come. To the people of God, who are under a process of sanctifica- tion through the truth, it is of unspeakable importance that thev enjoy a distinguishing gospel. Else they will ripen but slowly for heaven, will not enjoy the comforts of religion, nor be extensively useful. To place them under a tame and temporizing gospel, is like the attempt to grow plants in the shade. They may just live, but they can neither be vigorous nor healthful. Place the men of heavenly birth, where they can have the whole truth, and feel its influence. Then they " spring up, as willows by their water-courses." Every day advances them in the Divine life. Their religion is healthful and vigorous, and there is reason to believe that they will feel the blessed effects for ever. They will be, when they die, better pre- pared for heaven, will take a higher station, and shine more illus- triously in the celestial firmament. O, then, suffer not a Christian for a icorld, to spend his days un- der a loose and indiscriminating gospel. Advise him to sell all he has and buy a better gospel, or go where the truth is proclaimed, that they may daily feel its influence, "till we all come in the unity of the faith, and of the knowledge of the Son of God, unto a perfect man, unto the measure of the stature of the fulness, ot Christ." Amen. SERMON XXXIX. MAN HIS BROTHER'S KEEPER.— No. I. GENESIS IV. 9. Am I my brother's keeper ? Thus early did the apostacy of the human family display itself in murder, in falsehood, in supreme selfishness, and in gross and daring impudence. Cain, you know, had murdered his brother, and he now lies in the hope to conceal it from God, and impudent- ly repels the insinuation that it was at all his business to he his brother's guardian. He would have no care of his brother; he might die or live, it was no matter that concerned him. His own interest was care enough for him ; his brother must be his own keeper. This same principle of depravity, supreme selfishness, has ever predominated in the breast of the human family, and may be placed at the head of the causes that operate to make and keep the world miserable. Yet the question put to Cain implies that God will govern us by another law. We are to know what has be- come of our brother. His life and health and happiness is to be the object of our care, and that by the authority of God himself. As he would not suffer Cain, so neither will he suffer us to throw off this obligation. And what then becomes of the argument by which men quiet their consciences, while they make no exertion to bless or save the human family ? When God shall make inqui- sition for blood, and shall inquire of us as he did of the first mur- derer, Where are all those millions of heathen that lived in your day '• what reply shall we make 1 When he inquires, Where are all those profane men and Sabbath-breakers that lived in your time ! Where are all those intemperate men that came under your notice, and formed a character for perdition with your connivance I Shall we be able to wield successfully that argument of Cain, >v Am [ my brother's keeper I" Or is there some other law like this, "Let no man seek" his own, but every man another's.'" W ealth is here added by the translators, but it applies as well to other things as to wealth. We are to seek another's health, and happiness, and salvation, as well as our own. " Whatsoever ye would that others should do to you, do ye even so to them." 448 man ins brother's keeper. Perhaps by some such law God will at last deal with us, and not by that contracted self-love which Cain made his only law of life and action. And if so, why should men act on a principle now, that must be abandoned in the day of retribution 1 One would not like to enter upon some litigated case, having planned his defence on a principle totally different from that on which alone his cause can stand. Wisdom would dictate a far other course. We are all looking forward to the judgment of the great day, and it will come whether we look for it or not, and God has given us the prin- ciples on which he will proceed. By these, then let us prejudge ourselves, that in the great day we may stand. On application to the law and the testimony we shall find that God has made us all our brother's keeper. And would we know who is our brother, the same book will bring within the circle of our brotherhood the whole human family. Hence the obligation to do good to all men as we have opportunity, will come down a mighty burden if you please, upon all our shoulders. Cain de- fended himself on a spurious principle, and the judgment of God overthrew it. There is not, then, a man in our streets but is obli- gated to look so far into his neighbor's concerns, as to know, if possible, whether there is not some good he should do him. God will not consider it a wanton interference, an abridgement of our neighbor's liberty, if we so far interest ourselves as to settle the question that there is no point in which we can bless him. Did we see his house on fire in the night time, we should haste to it, and burst open his door, and if he slept too soundly to be waked, should throw him out of his house, and none would consider it a gratuitous intermeddling in another man's matters. But the law of God does not say that we may interfere merely to promote his wealth. Can we in any point do him good ? If so, the obligation rests on us. Now apply this principle to the case of that multitude who are scorching up their vitals by intemperance. Is it abridging their liberties if we interpose 1 Can it be viewed as wanton officious- ness if we snatch the cup from their lips 1 Suppose it a quicker poison that would take life in an hour, might we then dash the cup away 1 Suppose the father drinking it would poison and kill his whole family ; might we then be so officious as to pity his wife and children, and rudely force the potion away from him 1 Suppose it a razor or a halter, instead of the cup, and you must become officious or his wife is a widow in an hour, and his children orphans ; may you act in that case ! Will one oppose MAN HIS BROTHER'S KEEPER. 449 the man who is opening his jugulars, and must be a corpse in an hour, and at the same time furnish the instrument to another with which he opens a vein that will dispatch him in a week 1 By what kind of consistency do men sustain this mode of reasoning 1 Does God see any difference in these cases 1 Or has mere human sophistry separated what God hath joined together 1 Let us look a little while at the right we have, and the obligation we are under, to interfere in the case before us, and. dam, divert, or dry up that flood of intemperance that is pouring desolation upon society. On this subject we claim in our favor every law of na- ture, of God, and of man. We claim the obligation of every law of kindness, humanity, self-preservation, and necessity. And we know of no law that bears in any shape upon our case, that does not declare most unequivocally our duty in this matter. Let us look, I. At the law of God. Whether the divine law will be felt on this subject or not, its authority should be read. Many will plead that it principally enjoins abstaining from injuring our fellow men. We assert that it enjoins more, and renders duty positive exertion to do them good. " Thou shalt in any wise rebuke thy neighbor, and not suffer sin upon him." Here is authorized and even en- joined the very attack we would make upon this vice. And we have here the rule of our perseverance ; we are not to cease while sin is upon him. " Them that sin rebuke before all, that others may fear." Here we are authorized, if the case requires, to make our rebuke loud and public. Good magistrates are represented as being a terror to evil doers, as enjoined of God to use coercion to keep men back from sin. The discipline of Christ's church is founded in the principle that it is right to hold men back from doing wrong by all the moral force that can be applied. The laws of Israel required even that men be held back from sin by the ap- prehended punishment of death. The parent must inform against his disobedient child, even when the issue must be that his child be stoned to death. The sacrednessof the Sabbath was by divine direction guarded by the sanction of death. Thus we sufficiently see that the law of God enjoins more upon men than merely ab- staining from injuring their fellow-men, enjoins also the duty of keeping them back from sin. Not merely may I not kill, but 1 must hinder one from killing himself. Not merely may I not steal, but I must hold back my neighbor from theft. Not merely may 1 not, by any possible construction, put the cup to my neigh- 57 450 MAN HIS BROTHER'S KEEPER bor's mouth, but must, if possible, prevent him from putting the cup to his own mouth. The law of God is not that tame negative, spiritless code that some would render it, but is exceeding broad, and hinds to all those actions that comport with its spirit. There is no fear, then, that by any moral power we shall put forth m reclaiming the world from its beastly indulgences, we shall not be sustained by the law of God. We shall be condemned if we do not put forth such power by that very law. 1 remark, II. That the religion of Jesus Christ embodies, as one of its first principles, the duty of restraining men from sin. It is difficult to view the operations of this religion as distinct from the operations of the law of God. Its uniform aim is, as far as it relates to men, to render them holy and happy. To do this it would enlighten the world ; warn them of the coming judgment ; exert all possible restraining moral influence over the wicked passions, and place before men every fascinating motive to flee from the wrath to come. The spirit of Jesus Christ characterizes this religion. He came from heaven purposely that he might throw himself between the sinner and the misery he earns, and thus block up the way of death with his own body and blood. And he stands and pleads with wretched men. " 0 that thou hadst hearkened to my com- mandments, then had thy peace been as a river, and thy right- eousness like the waves of the sea." " Come unto me all ye that labor and are- heavy laden, and I will give you rest." " Turn ye, turn ye, why will ye die." The religion of the gospel is a benevolent religion. Its posses- sor is not content to be happy alone, but would extend his own enjoyment to the whole race of the apostacy ; would rouse a dor- mant world from the sleep of death, and break them off from the habits that are destroying them. He has read in the sacred book that no drunkard shall inherit the kingdom of God ; hence he sees heaven shut for ever against the whole multitude, and nothing be- fore them but weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth. Here piety becomes tenderly and laboriously compassionate. It cares for the sufferings of the body, bul holds it to he an infinitely more important object to save the soul from death. And there is one thought on this subject that has amazing weight. Intemperance excludes men, if not wholly from the house of God, yet very lamentably from the means of grace. Where is the in- temperate man that has not vacated his sn:1t in the church meet- in?, in the conference room, and in the place of prayer \ Who MAX HIS BROTHER'S KEEPER. 4-51 of them attend regularly the means of grace, as those who hope to be sanctified through the truth ] And they will be found to have commenced a very loose discharge of the duties of the family and the closet, if indeed these duties are not wholly abandoned ' The Bible is rend but little, and very few of its precious truths are treasured up, and reflected on and prayed over. The time that all these require is lost in unprofitable talk in the place of idle concourse. Thus all hope of heaven is cut off. The Sabbath be- comes a perverted institution, and furnishes, instead of leisure to seek and serve the Lord, opportuniiy to drink and perish. Could you know the true reason in every case why men desert the sane- tuary, you would find in many cases, that the insidious practice of mingling strong drink, and the temptation offered of thus de- voting the sacred day of the Lord unobserved by men, are gene- rating this habit. That day when the last and best excuse that tipplers have for the practice, will not apply that it renders them strong to labor, is spent in beastly indulgences. Thus God is twice insulted, nay, three times. The body that should be the temple of the living God is polluted ; and he that pollutes the vemple of God, him shall God destroy. The fruits of the earth, tfrown by the divine agency, are perverted from their benevolent designation. And the Sabbath of the Lord, made for man, to in- -truct him and fit him for the kingdom of God, is abused to a pur- pose more vile than any day of the seven. How God will feel while men thus employ the very hours he consecrated, in selling their souls into bondage to the devil, it can be easily conceived. Now the heart of piety bleeds over the miseries that are coming upon this infatuated multitude, and all the laws of piety urge the believer to step in and stay the plague. I remark, III That the laws of humanity give us the right, and impress the obligation to be active in putting a period to the preval of this destructive vice. The intemperate man, beast as he has made himself, is still a brother. He descended with us from the same common parent, nor can we by any process of reasoning throw off the relationship he sustains to us. Could he be meta- morphosed into a brute, and all the relationships that tie him to men he dissolved, when he becomes intemperate, the case would alter. Then humanity would make upon us its smaller claim as when a beasl sutlers, or as when a serpent dies. Till then the claim of kindred calls for pity. How ruined is the man who has accustomed hi nself to the arti- 4 52 MAN HIS BROTHER S KEENER ficial stimulus till the habit is fixed ! The money that should buy him food and raiment, buys him disease and pain, and desponden- cy. That labor that should earn his family reputation and plea- sure, and health, and science, goes to pull down their habitation, and cover them with rags, and feed them coarsely and scantily, and plunge them from respectable life into poverty and wretched- ness. The man himself is ruined ; his health, his ambition, his intellect, and more and worse than all he can have no part in the kingdom of God. And down toward the same ruin he drags, with all the power he has, his hapless family. Suppose him to have a wife how altered is her prospect. She married a man ; his face was human, his breath was sweet, his heart was affectionate, his countenance spoke the kindest emotions. He promised her his heart for life, and she gave him hers. But she now embraces a savage, and must wither under his insults if not his blows, and must sue a bill from him, or wear out life in the den of a tiger. And must see her children, the pledges of an honest affection, under the training of a brute : must know that little short of a miracle can rear them to comfort, or knowledge, or character. Her high hopes for them are sunk, and she becomes thankful if she may but keep them with her and furnish a rag to cover them, and a piece of bread to feed them. She must see her comforts all torn from her, the very bed she brought to him, and the conve- niences her father gave her. She had begun to move in circles oi high character, and had taken an elevation from which she must now come down. She was the mistress of her house, but is now a menial. And all this, were it all, would be comparatively nothing. She must see her companion come down from independence to ary, from reputation to neglect, from health and promise to disease and gloominess, and death and hell. Once, perhaps, she hoped to live with him in heaven, but as no drunkard shall inherit the kingdom of God, she abandons this hope, and tries now to save her children. Here again her burden is a world. How can she hope to counteract the influence of a father's example, and un- teach a father's precepts, and neutralize a father's influence. She tlways told her children to obey their father, but if they obey him now they must die with him and be damned with him. Thus she surveys her household with despair and sees not but that every star of her night must be covered with a deep and dark cloud. She was the mother of a promising family, and dwelt in a comfortable habitation. But her miserable associate involved his interest, and mortgaged his dwelling, and sold his lands, and gave MAN HIS BROTHER S KEEPER. 453 up his business, and she must now try to keep herself warm in that darksome hovel. T see her, on some cold December's even- ing, returning from the wood with her fagots, that she may keep the life-hlood flowing warm in the veins of her infant. And I see her little bare-foot lads trying to repair their father's wron?, bear- ing on behind her some brushes for the fire. Poor lads, they hope their father will come directly and bring them home some bread. Ah, he comes yonder, but has spent the shilling to glut his appe- tite, and another is leading him home. Go now and meet that abused wife at her door, and enter with her and take the inventory of her table, and if your heart does not ache, it is made of marble. There is nothing there to eat : if there is, the mother earned it last night when she should have been allowed to sleep. Go now and visit her father's house, and see how many comforts lay around her cradle ; how overflowing is the table where she Mras reared ; how full of all life's dainties that house where she, in an evil hour, committed her person to that being who now holds her as with the paw of a panther; and then if there is anything you will not do that can be done to stay other wives from such a destiny, and other children from such a famine, then feel that you lack the common sympathies of humanity. What can possibly give us a right to interfere, and save a fellow creature, if we have none in this case 1 Where can the laws of humanity operate 1 Might I tear that imploring female from the jaws of a wolf, or the mouth of a crocodile, or the rush of a cataract 1 And by what law? The law of humanity 1 And is this law so binding that I must even risk my life ? Well, she may die a slower death, by the abuses of an intemperate husband, but not a surer one ; and her children may not as certainty perish as if already in the em- brace of a bear, but the danger, if they are young when the father becomes a brute, is not much less imminent. When, then, may the laws of compassion operate — when are they binding as the very law itself of God, if not in this case 1 To publish the tippler, or dash in pieces his bottle, or refuse him a shelter in your house, or employ in your service, are deeds direct of compassion, if by such means we may have the remotest hope of forcing him to the necessity of abandoning his cups. If we may not do this without intrusion upon his rights, then we may not cut the halter he is hanging on ; may not dull the blade he has whetted to butcher himself; may not extinguish the brand with which he intends to set his house or a world on fire ; may not seize the maniac and put a chain on him ; may not hunt down the 454 MAN HIS BROTHER'S KF.ErEh. tiger who is lurking in our village for some haple&s lad whom he may tlevour. To deprive him of citizenship, and put a guardian over him, and a prison wall around him, are the kindest deeds, i[ his beastly appetite has deprived him of the power of self-govern- ment. We should pray that the very same deeds may be done to us when we shall have unmanned ourselves, and rendered coercive measures of restraint indispensable. To all these measures the laws of humanity propel us. Why have a prison for the thief, and none for the inebriate'? The thief is the less dangerous man. He will do his deeds in the dark, and will not contaminate our children by his example. Why incarcerate the robber ? He but causes property to change own- ers, while the drunkard breaks in upon the more sacred compact of marriage, sunders the parental and filial relationships, and robs the domestic circle of its comforts. The highwayman robs the si ranger, the drunkard his own family. The former takes the booty and is gone ; the drunkard stays to rob again and again of every shilling that is earned by his family, or given them in cha- rity, till he has stripped the bed from under them, and the clothes from off them, and the bread from their mouths, and stays not till, if possible, he has rifled them of home, and character, and hope, and salvation. Where then is the robber with whom humanity requires us to wage war rather than with the man who is thus spoiling his own house 1 I know not where that compassion has originated that will tolerate a man in plundering his own house, but will hang him if he forcibly take a dollar from the stranger on the highway; that will suffer him to totally destroy the reputation of his family, but will imprison him and fme him till he is a beg- gar, if he slander the reputation of your daughter; that will per- mit him to wield day after day the weapon of death over his own poor wife and hapless children, but will fasten him up with iron bars and bolts if he once thrust the knife at your bosom. I believe our apathy on this subject a sin that the whole sober community will have to answer for in the day of retribution. God has constituted us our brother's keeper, and will ask us directly, Where is Abel, thy brother I in a tone of remonstrance that will shake a thousand worlds. I will hint at one other law that binds us to assume this guardianship of our fellow-men. IV. I refer to the law of self-preservation. I name this last, not because the most binding, but as that law which all men are least reluctant to obey. While we suffer the sin of inebriation to pre- MAN HIS BROTHER'S KEEPER. -lOD vail, we are filling the land with paupers. Who are they that be- come a public charge ! Why, perhaps nine times in ten, the intemperate, or their families, or their descendants, to whom this vice has bequeathed penury. And who must be taxed to support them 1 Why the sober, civil community. From their table must go the bread to feed them, and from their forests the fuel to warm them, and from their earnings the raiment to cover them, and from their hearts the pity that relieves them in sickness, sorrow, and death. And the burden is increasing daily. Our children, if we train them soberly, may have to labor one day in seven to save from starvation the descendants of that mass of drunkards who now reel through our streets, and disturb the quiet of our even- ings with their oaths and imprecations. Ah, and more yet, our supineness is multiplying crimes and criminals. Whence the murders that so increase in our land, till they have tenfolded since our recollection 1 Whence the grow- ing insecurity to travelers, and the frequency of mail robberies \ Whence that amount of theft around us, till every door must be barred, and property watched with a sleepless eye \ Whence the petty frau .Is in commerce 1 Whence the multiplied litigations, till some towns are about bankrupt through their influence 1 3f ninety-nine-lumdredths of all this be imputed to the unnatural and monstrous use of ardent spirits, it would not come far short of the truth. Hence the tax upon the civil community to prosecute and im- prison that army of convicts which we do not assign to the halter. May we not then try to save our property 1 Must we levy a per- petual assessment upon our children's children, down to the end of time, for the support of every child whose miserable father shall please, by his vices, to place upon our charity. We have pitied the English nation while their poor tax has covered at length the whole produce of their soil ; but intemperance is doing the same deed for us. And if we are not wise enough, I hope our child- ren will be, to exclude this canker-worm from our entire territory. In the mean time, intemperance is opening hard by our house a deep and dark gulf for our offspring. We intend to educate them respectably, and to hold them distant from the drunken ami mis- erable community around us. But how know we that some inci- dent may not throw down our children into this community I How know we that some son of ours, while in the field with a tippler, may not learn to taste the cup, and at length scorch up his vitals with the liquid fire 1 How know we that some daughter 456 MAW his brother's keeper. of ours, now sweet and lovely, may not at length come under the paw of some tiger-like inebriate j be lashed like a slave, and starved like a criminal, and thrown naked and exposed to the cold of winter by her inhuman husband 1 How know we that some large branch of our family may not become sunken down to pro- verbial meanness and degradation by this iniquity 1 and our very name be used, as we know other names to be, as expressions of all that is degraded and vicious, and improvident, and mean in human nature. In view of such possibilities, shall we still adhere to the plea of that first murderer, "Am I my brother's keeper 1" What concern of mine is it 1 And who will say I have exaggerated. Have you not known some family that was promising to thus sink and rise no more 1 This subject presents the retailer of ardent spirits in a painful and distressingly interesting attitude. I address him in the next dis- course. SERMON XL.» MAN HIS BROTHER'S KEEPER.— No. II. EZEKIEL III. 20. His blood will I require at thy hand. Is it lawful in the sight of conscience and of God, to vend ardent spirits ? Every man should be able to justify himself in the business he pursues, and when he cannot, by good and substantial arguments, should abandon it. It is a fearful thing to persevere in any course that conscience disapproves. There can be in such a case, neither peace with ourselves nor fellowship with God. Darkness, deep and ominous, must shroud our path till it is illuminated by the law of the Lord. Can the vender of ardent spirits justify his employment \ If he surveys the ground on which he stands, will he not become con- vinced that very soon it must sink under him \ Dear fellow-men, the Christian public has treated your case and character with great forbearance, because perhaps we had all been measurably in the same condemnation. You vended the poison, and too many of us suffered our money to buy it, and our families to use it. We approved of your offering it for sale, and you ap- proved of our drinking it. Thus we fostered the sin between us, as in that noted case in Scripture applying to a somewhat different subject, " That they may do evil with both hands earnestly, the prince asketh and the judge asketh for a reward ; and the great man, he uttereth his mischievous desire ; so they wrap it up." The importer and the distiller, and the retailer, asked a reward, and the mistaken community of purchasers uttered their mischievous de- sire, and so we wrapped it up. When at length we began to wake to the subject, we could not immediately require you, at perhaps a great pecuniary loss, to quit the trade, till we had begun to practice some self-denial, and had abandoned the use. But if we are all under the same obligation to elevate public sentiment, the dealer must not continue in the trade till there is no one to buy, and then quit from neces-ity, else nei- * This Berraon was written at a time when many conscientious i pie were engaged 'n the traf- fic of ardent spi -us, and at about tii" commencement of the temperance reformation. 58 4-5S MA.\ HIS BROTHER'S KEEPER. ther God, nor man, nor his own conscience, will allow him any credit. The reformation must feel somewhere, and at some time, your influence, or we shall fear that the enterprise was effected against your wishes. If you will sell the last gill you can, and make the lasl man drunk that will give you opportunity, and put in your purse the last penny that you can make the trade earn you, we shall doubt whether, if God had left it to you, the world would ever have been reformed. Part of the community, and we hope, by this time, the large part, are mourning that you have not aban- doned the trade long since ; the residue may possibly hope you never will. In which of these divisions is there the most prayer 1 I think there can be little doubt. And you are choosing to which of these very opposite communities you will belong. Every prayer offered for the upbuilding of the Church is against you, and so is every desire that the world may be peaceful, and industrious, and happy, and holy. And it would seem as if one would hate to pocket his earnings in the face of so much prayer. You are aware that very few good men are now your customers in this article, and that the number is still diminishing. But this, it would seem, must give you rather a direful view of your calling. The godly may not come around you. It has been whispered to them from heaven, that they may not come into your secrets, nor join their honor to your tippling and drunken assemblies. You are employed, it seems, on the dark side of that line, that separates the children of light from the children of darkness. Your stand is at the trip, where you draw off, and deal out to the most ruined part of your race, poverty, and pain, and decrepitude, and blind- ness, and infamy, and despair, and shame, and death. And nil this is not all, for in addition to the present plagues which your trade inflicts upon men, it promises, assuredly, to undo them for ever. It seals them over to the adversary, and confirms them the enemies of all righteousness, through all the future pe- riods of their being. And what a horrid occupation must that be that so mars and spoils the works of God. What if the light of the last day should break in upon you with the cup of lirpiid fire in your hand, reaching it out to one who i> at that instant hurried away to the judgment, to answer for the sin of making himself a beasl at your bar, must you not follow on or go befoie him, and answer for the sin of vending the fire. Are you not the very man whom the Scriptures reprobate for putting the cup to your neigh- bor's mouth. If you will attend awhile, we will review the argu- ments by which you arc sustained in the practice. MAN HIS BROTHER'S KEEPER. 459 !. A vender of ardent spirits, on being asked why he continued m the traffic, responded, / am sustained by the public authorities. They have licensed the trade, and I pay over to them a certain part of the profits. I can show you their hand and seal. But have they pledged themselves to answer for you when God shall come and make inquisition for blood 1 and when the vaga- bond husband with his haggard wife and beggared offspring, shall cry to heaven for vengeance on the man that pilfered them of bread, and clothed them with rags, and covered them with infamy 1 I know they may have then gone out of office, and others may occupy their seats. Corporations, I know have their life time, and their office is temporary, and their account will be sum- med up in eternity. But do they incur any moral responsibility for the correctness of this enterprise 1 Will they stand between you and harm, in the great day of account ] I know they have underwritten for your honesty and integrity, and for your good moral character, and have made oath to all these points, but as to the lawfulness of the enterprise in the sight of God, have they under- written here 1 Or have they left you to settle this matter with God. And besides it is said corporate bodies have no souls. Of course they have no conscience, and will not come into the judgment, and will not be present to respond for you when you shall be charged with pouring a stream of death through the streets and lanes of our beloved country. They will have sunk down into common men, and will be judged not as public men, but as private citizens. But to be serious, 0 what a day the last day will lie when every one must answer for the sins done in the body. But if the men who signed your papers shall be condemned with you, as guilty accomplices in your work of death, what then 1 Can you apply any remedy to the fatal and final mistake in that evil hour ! I would certainly handle your conscience kindly, but I would do it honestly, because I shall be at the court on that day, and must be condemned with you, if I handle deceitfully the word of the Lord, or cry peace ami safety when sudden destruction comes upon you. I would rather become security for every demand and every claim that may come against you in these minor courts, than answer for the charge of making one drunkard, or one homeless and hopeless and vagabond child, or one broken-hearted mother. I had rather he your city scavenger than your mayor and your alderman on t"rms like these. If the license you have, will be current onlv i» a humop court, und heaven's King will despise it, I would go and 460 man his brother's keeper throw it down on the table of the corporation, and would go net, and before I commenced the sale, would demand a new revelation from heaven, that should contain at least a clause like this — Thus saith the Lord, They who license others to commit sin are answerable for the sin, and they alone, and let all the people say Amen II. Another, on being asked why he continued the trade, made answer, That it was profitable, and that he chose to reap the, profits. Or as one might honestly interpret his language, he cared not whether it was right or wrong. He would have been willing if he might have been paid for his labor, to have manned the guillotine, or to have kindled the fires of the auto-de-fe. If he could make a afood trade of it, would buy in the fagots, that were destined to be used in burning a world. But it is believed there are very few such men so lost from reason, hope and heaven. And with this few we will not spend our time at present. III. Another, on being asked, replied, The trade supports my fam- ily, and propped his argument by Scripture : " If any provide not for his own, and especially for those of his own house, he hath denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel." He faltered as he uttered the text, seeming to doubt whether God inspired it to fos- ter the crime of drunkenness. A very simple comment would say, It surely must be of some consequence, how we provide. May a man steal his bread, and purloin the garment that warms his children! One may not provide for his family by gambling, nor by extortion, nor by robbery, nor by usury. By none of these means, is it believed that one could lawfully make the provision enjoined in the text. Thus the argument goes for nothing, if we are required to use Christian discretion as to the manner in which this provision shall be made. We may not do evil that good may come, unless we would have our damnation just. The end will not sanctify the means. That end which is not achieved by mea- sures of righteousness, is not pursued with regard to the authority of God. IV. Another trader replied, This is the business I was hred to. So King Alexander and the man of Elba, and Cesar and Sennacherib, were practised, if not bred, to the art of blotting out nations, and nouring out human gore, and must he sustained in the trade 01' blood, because they were bred to it. And Alexander the copper- smith, must oppose thn p-ospel, because else he should have no MAN HIS BROTHERS KEEPER. 46] shrines to make for Diana. Did he reason well, or did he proba- bly lose his soul 1 That you was bred to the business of making or vending ardent spirits, may involve your parents in guilt, but it cannot exonerate you from the guilt of doing what you know is wrong. It surely is your business to inquire whether your calling involves the orood or the injury of the world, whether you promote its health, its character and comfort, or its undoing. Whether you aid its popu- lation on to heaven or perdition. Are you exonerated from any such inquiry 1 You give us then the very answer that the high- wayman will, I pursue the business I was bred to. And when you have answered his argument and persuaded him to be an honest man, I will use your reasons, and convince you that you ought im- mediately to attempt some other business. V. Another retailer when inquired of why he continued in the trade made answer, There is no other business I can do. My trade in this article is my only path to competency. We may then surely ask you, whether you have tried, and settled the question beyond controversy, that you must sell rum or starve, that is, you must do what God forbids or die 1 Here I would remark that one should not come to this conclusion till he has made an effort. It surely seldom happens under the government of God, that men can adopt no legitimate means of earning their bread. Should the gambler, and the actor, and the slave-dealer, and the privateers-man become convinced that their calling is mischievous, and ask God to direct them to an honest livelihood, would there be nothing they could do but die! Would he leave to bejorary or starvation, the man who was devoutly pray- ing— "Give us in a lawful and proper manner, day by day our dai- ly bread \ Why, this question is answered in a moment. And were we obliged lo answer in the negative, and duty was certainly associated with death, then we should say die. That man blesses the world and dies at a good old age who dies rather than sin. And as martyrdom has advanced many a cause it may possibly advance yet the cause of temperance. VI. One brandy merchant made answer, when asked why he continued the trade, That good men had employed themselves in ma- nufacturing and vending ardent spirit, and still had gone to heaven. That is, he would continue in what might be forbidden of God, provided it would be possible to reach heaven at hist. Now we admit the possibility you plead, b it we must tell you that good 462 man his brother's keeper. men in days past had less light on this subject than we have, and may have done in a measure harmlessly, what you may do unpar- donably. What is comparative innocence in some circumstances may be the deadliest guilt in others. Had Paul done, after he was enlightened, the same things that he had done before, he had done them to his own undoing. And he assures us, under the in- spiration of the Holy Ghost, that lie obtained mercy because he did it ignorantly in unbelief. Had John Newton, when engaged in the slave trade, been enlightened as he was afterward, he pro- bably had never lived to sing as he did of the grace and mercy of God. Moreover, no man in his right reason, would act on the prin- ciple here avowed. He would not commit theft, and robbery, and murder and adultery, because men may have committed these dark deeds, and still, perhaps, have gone to heaven. The very men I reason with, would turn pale to hear these crimes palliated by the same arguments that sustain the practice of vending this article of death. One may have done in his ignorance, even conscientiously, what to do now would cost him his soul. " The times of this ignorance God winked at, but now commandeth all men every where to repent." Be it that there may be some good men even yet in the trade, one would hardly dare to sin, because good men will sin with him. I would not engage in unlawful commerce, were it possible that an angel would share the profits with me. The rich man in the gospel had accomplished associates till the day he perished. The argument proves, merely, that good men may have mistaken their duty, or may have known their duty, and for a time, had not suf- ficient moral courage to do it. Could we know the views that, such men will have of the traffic, when they shall see the world on fire, their views then might decide our duty. VII. Another merchant was heard to say, If I should pour upon the ground the store of this article, that I have on hand, I should wrong my creilitors. Let me just ask that man a question or two. Did yon purchase that store of provisions since you doubted whether the trade was right \ And did you determine that you would sell it right or wrong. How then can you answer to Cod rnd your own con- science, for the sin of buying it I A mighty sin may have beer, committed before you come to the question of selling, I mean tbe sin of buying. If your own conscience met you, and the law of MAN HIS BROTHER S KEEPER. 463 God, and poured their rebukes upon you for the sin of buying, you may so heighten the iniquity by selling, that God shall never grant you forgiveness. And God may punish you in the very aet, and cause the trade which you pursue with hesitancy and doubt, to conduct you speed- ily to bankruptcy. God will not, I think, if he intends your sal- vation, prosper you in a business that is keeping the world depraved. Is not such the character of your present customers, that you must needs be afraid of failure if you trust them 1 And then to be closeted with such men, as your business now brings about you, how degrading, even Were you in no danger from them. But should it be, that you have greatly offended God already by the traffic, the sale of the stock you have on hand in spite of a disapproving conscience, may remove you beyond the hope of forgiveness. At the most, you cannot calculate with any certainty that another month's continuance in the trade, may not undo you for eternity. I knew the following affecting case, most intimately. A mer- chant had come to the resolve to make no further purchase when he had sold out the stock of spirit that he had on hand. But while he was doing this, his largest customer in this article be- came by the too free use of it, a blind man, and must now go sightless, groping his gloomy way to the grave, if indeed with the loss of his eyes, he does not part with his life too, and go down at last to perdition. Ah ! what you ought to do with the stock on hand, would be a question easily settled were the world on fire, or could you see the Son of Man coming in the clouds of heaven. If the loss of it would render you a bankrupt, I know not that the case is altered the dust of the balance. Arc you not your brother's keeper < i Money is not to be placed in the scale against duty, a moment. If the loss would not render you a bankrupt, pour it out ; if other- wise, give it up to your creditors, and advise them to pour it out. And let it be at no hour of the day, nor day of the week, nor week of the year, nor year of time, when you ever embark in another recruit, and our prayer shall be that God will bless you. VIII. But another dealer was heard to say, If I overnment like ours, will always have a legislature that live at peace with its corruptions The men in office will duly 59 466 MAM HIS BROTHER S KEEPEB. represent their constituents, and wear, at least, all the vices pre- valent among the people. Hence a good influence must travel upward, and reach the legislature by individual impulse. As said already, men have consciences, legislative and corporate bodies have none. Men, too, expect a future judgment, but cor- porate and legislative bodies fear only a loss of their influence, office and salary. Vice may flow down, therefore, but virtue must climb. When far more than a moiety of our population are strictly temperate, and have no interest to serve by conniving at lust, especially when the better part shall feel that their interest would be served by having the community temperate, then, it will be popular to legislate on this subject, and the authorities of our land will make whatever enactments we pray for. Only let the people quit drinking, and the venders quit selling, and then, w)ien we stand in no need of their help, our legislative bodies will be the perfect sycophants of the temperate, as they are, and long have been, of the drunken community. Thus the de- strover will be strangled in his dotage, but every man of discern- ment must see that the power and influence that shall do the work, must be individual, and not legislative. XII. But said one, (not the last by ten thousand,) my property is my <>wn, and 1 will not permit my enjoyment of it to be abridged by your hypocritical and fanatical opinions. Your property your own I ! You do not mean that you created it, nor yet that independently of God you earned it, or gained it. If your wealth was throuofh the products of the earth, it was God that sent the showers, and shaped the seasons, and tempered the atmosphere, and grew your wheat for you. If it was through suc- cess in trade, it was God that lifted you up, that furnished you with the mind you used, and directed the gale that blew your commerce home, and stayed the storm that might have wrecked your fortune in a moment. If gotten by toil, then it was God that nerved the arm to labor, and built, and sustained every muscle and sinew thai went to the work, and made the heart beat, and the lungs heave, and forced the life stream along in its dark and mys- terious channel. If you mean any thing that contradicts all this, your property is not your own, but the Lord's. The silver and gold are His. His are all the beasts of the forest, and the cattle upon a thousand hills. If we are God's stewards, and our wealth is his, we may not use it in contravention of his authority and. still expect that man ins brother's keeper. 46*3 he will give us day by day our daily bread. He will rather blast us with the breath of his mouth, and destroy us with the bright- ness of his coming. Oh! how terrible is that account, which we must give at last of the manner in which we have squandered the Lord's money, in trying to undo a world that God would render blessed. It seems to me, that there is an inference, plainly de- ducible from the word of the Lord, like this : " If God spared not his own Son, but freely gave him up for us all,"' in what light will he regard the man whose whole powers are bent to counteract by every possible means in his power, the purposes of his mercy. When he shall make inquisition for blood, will not the whole cata- logue of venders stand out in bold relief, on the tablet of the judg- ment. [ think 1 see a reason, why the very men who have incn their estate by this traffic, should be, now the light has broken in, among the first to see, and cure the plague. If the subject should press any consciences in our land, it should be the consciences of the men who are living at ease on the gains of this trade. Their motives to feel, and act, it would seem, must be weighty as a world. Let me present a few of these motives. Retailers ! Ye know not what ye do. You cannot fully estimate the amount of mischief you may have done to families, and to souls already. You must live, if God will let you, and your of}'- spring, in the society which your traffic is corrupting. The plague may reach some child or friend of yours, and he may quit lift- in the cabin of the debauched, and moulder in a drunkard's grave. This world belongs to the Lord Jesus, while your trade is increas- ing its alienation from him. The misery produced by ardent spir- its is causing a thousand hearts to ache, and we wish some evi- dence that yours ache. The retailer brings about him a commu- nity in which his soul cannot live, and be in health. An estate gotten by a traffic that is cursing the world, cannot go down to posterity with the blessing of God. Many things indicate thai the entire world will soon be subdued to the Lord Jesus, but this can- not he, and the trade in alcohol continue. The dying groans ol the thirty thousand drunkards, who perish annually in our land. should move you. The moans of their widows and orphans move you. That " drunkards shall not inherit the kingdom of God," should move you. " Wo to him that giveth his neighbor drink," should move you. God will make you your brother's keeper. I have learned that a poor woman went to a neighboring grog shop, and requested the 46S man his brother's keeper. dealer not to sell any more rum to her husband, as it sometimes rendered him a madman. A few days afterward in a rum excited frenzy, he plunged the knife into her throat. She stayed the blood with her hand, and ran to the shop, and there poured out her life- stream at the feet of the wretch who had just pocketed the price of her blood. Not long since the following tragedy was acted over in New York. One of our builders was suddenly called to the death-bed of his child. A man in his service, supposing that his employer would naturally return no more to the building during that day, determined to spend it in the pleasures of a debauch. When men have made up their minds to be drunkards, they will not stick at all at a lie. He hasted off to one of our good moral characters, whom the authorities of the city have licensed to sell ardent spir- its, and in his employer's name asked for a quart of rum. I do not know that he offered, as the reason for getting it, that his em- ployer's child was at. the point of death, a very common subter-. fuge in these days, but he was denied the rum because he had no order to this effect. He went, however, to .another dealer and procured the quart, and drank it, I know not whether at one draught or four, and immediately sunk into an apoplectic slumber, pro- found as the sleep of death, and came not back again to reason, till he awoke in the world of wo. This remark is made in the firm belief of that section in the book of God which declares that no drunkard hath inheritance in the kingdom of God. The miser- able man seems to have been mad on his own destruction. I!e did the deed in the very face of death. He would have feared to play the fool, had not his employer been called to the death- bed. If he had feared death as much, or had any fear of God be- fore his eyes, he might have escaped perdition at that time. Or had he been a man of truth, then he had lived, or had the man, or rather the woman, that sold him the quart, for it was a woman, had there been the fear of God in her heart, then he had lived. Poor soul ! he had several chances of living, but they all failed. And let me say here— though I am quite ashamed to suppose that a woman would encourage that sin that is binding her sex in chains of iron — the woman who sold him the potion that brought him to a premature grave, had lived with an intemperate husband, who in a lit of intoxication, had burned the building that stood on the very ground where she sold the rum. . Thus men and women too, it seems, can sport with lire-brands, arrows, and death. It would seem that otto had had tin? means of being warned and wak« MAN HIS BROTHER'S KEEPER. 469 ened, if any warning would render woman wise. But s.ie took up her husband and buried him, and then went to selling rum. I sincerely hope she will not follow him to the drunkard's orave. When her bed was on fire first, and then her house, and she at length a widow, who would have dreamed that she would hai ployed herself in selling liquid fire! 0 temporal 0 more-! I passed it a few evenings since, the evening of the Sabbath, and saw at her door two sturdy sons of Erin fisting and biting each other, like sons of Belial, and screaming at each bite, and pounce like panthers on some craggy rocks of the Alps. We called the watch, and had them put where they would get sober, and where they would have opportunity to meet the police, all breakfasted and warm, and answer to the board, who gave them license to be riotous, for the tumult of the Sabbath evening. 0, how it sickens the heart to know one such case all through ! I remember that it was a law in Israel, that in an extreme case, when a house had the leprosy, it should be cleansed by beino- burnt to ashes. But it seems that even burning does not cleanse the modern leprosy. The disease outlives the fire, and comes up from the ashes like the fabled Phcenix, all fledged for a renewed occu- pancy. I suppose it finds a covert in the crumbling walls and burning timbers, and comes out again to infect the timbers and walls that are used in repairing the ruins. I fear nothing will cure it but the heat of that pit, " the pile whereof is fire and much wood, and the breath of the Lord like a stream of brimstone doth kindle it." In a town at the north, where the cause of temperance gained a few years since a sudden and powerful ascendancy in the public mind, there died arum-seller, in circumstances that made a power- ful impression on many minds. Another family lived in the house with him, and one day the lad}'' of that family, perceiving by what she heard and saw, that something was going on that was wrong, burst suddenly into his apartment, and found him hanging by the neck. She called her husband, who immediately cut him down. But as as it was his purpose to die as soon as he could recover strength, he broke from the embrace that held him, ran to a shelf, seized a razor, and hastily opened a jugular vein, and died in a few seconds. The history of the transaction is short. The man had begun to be intemperate, was a customer at his own bar, and very soon per- ceived that he must feel the pressure of the hard times, which tip- pling always produces, especially when one becomes an inebriate +70 MAN HIS BROTHER'S KEEPER at his own bar. He had been observed to be gloomy, but I do nwt remember that any apprehensions as to such a result had been en- tertained till the fatal moment when he was found hanging by the neck. How long he had been in the trade I do not remember, nor can I judge to what extent he had offended the Lord, by the ruin he had brought upon other families. He was a dealer in the arti- cle: and I remember that the society afterwards formed in that town, calculated, that every trader in the town manufactured, at the least calculation, one confirmed drunkard every three years, and sent one family down into the vale of beggary and rags and wretchedness. If, then, unless this calculation was erratic and wild, he had been a dealer in the article three years, and I know not but he had twenty, he had probably ruined one family, and God in righteous indignation made him a victim to his own traffic. I would willingly have thrown a veil over this scene, and saved his widow, who has married honorably, and his children, who, for might I know, are doing well, the pain of applying this scrap of history to their own case, were it not that we have been silent too long already, and indulged our sense of delicacy till we have al- lowed the plague to spread through every limb of our rising and otherwise happy republic. But we must be no longer so much afraid of wounding the sensibility of the living, as not to expose the speaking facts which have transpired in the madness and ruin that men have brought upon themselves and others by the sale of strong drink. If we had only courage enough to dig through the wall, and lay open the chamber of imagery, as the prophet was directed to do, and see the train of misery and death that moves in the wake of every rum-dealer in the land, the tale would make the ears of every one who heard it tingle. Oh ! he has the heart of a tiger, and blood is his legitimate prey. When we see how with a spirit of cold moneyed calculation, he can take the lovely woman and the beloved wife and crucify her husband, and turn her from her home, to starve and freeze, and make her children beg- gars and homeless and fatherless at a price at which one would hardly cut off the head of a dog, we are amazed at the long-suf- fering patience of God. And I know not whether he even weeps at the outrages he commits. Were 1 not the subject of feelings too strong to trust myself, I would stop and address him if I might in a voice loud enough to reach the two oceans. I would say, that the man who is destined to such a business, ought to have been whelped by a wolf and destined to wear his teeth and his ap- petite, that his personal equipments might agree with his office, MAN HIS BROTHER S KEEPER. 471 and herd him with his kind. I would train him to his work in the business of a blood-hound, that he might scent his prey afar off. 1 would at least have liiin bred a hangman, and spend the whole foun- tain of his tears before he should be placed at the tap. Then his employment and his soul would be in unholy symphony. But I must return from my impassioned feeling, or you will say I rail. In our country every man must be free. True, but the term is abused. One ought not to free to make disastrous inroads upon every family that he may have it in his power to destroy. He ought not to be free to do this even if the father of that family is willing that it should be done. If one had power sud- denly to convert men into panthers, and could obtain license so to do, he ought not to feel himself at liberty to do it, till the whole community around him are consulted on the question whether it would be safe to have a panther run at large. To be free is not to be free to destroy, and he has not this kind of freedom even with regard to the soil he owns. He may not so use it as to in- jure his neighbor, lie may not dig a deep pit and leave it open. He may not overthrow a building, even if he will, and can operate only on his own premises. He may not incautiously blast the pon- derous rock that may lie in his own territory. He may not be • Tree to remove some natural embankment that wards off a stream which, when turned upon his neighbor's habitation, would endan- ger the life of his family. One may not have the freedom to set fire to his own house. He may not fall the tree that may even throw down his neighbor's enclosures. Free as we are in this country, we are free only to use our own things so as not to injure our neighbor. And on this principle it is easy to show the extent to which men are free to sell ardent spirits. Having finished my rhapsody last evening at rather a late hour, under strongly excited feelings, I retired to my bed, and fancied myself employed in advocating the cause of an injured man. He had been prosecuted for a libel by one of our retailers who would impede the cause of reform by bringing odium upon the man who ventured to rebuke his iniquitous traffic. It ran as follows, as nearly as I can remember. May it please the court. I have risen to advocate the cause of an injured man. You have heard the testimony, and the wretch stands before you. What has his history been but that of a miser, a swindler, a calumniator, a robber, and a bear. I know the court feel clement while I name that man after the blackest prowler of the desert. He has lived to counteract the benevolence of God, 472 MAN HIS BROTHEIl's KEEPER. and send want and misery, and infamy and death, into habitations, otherwise the abode of comfort and hope. It has been his employ- ment, the work he delights in, and what his soul is shaped to, to barter disease, and famine, and riot, and ruin, for farms, and dwell- ings, and moneys, to hoard up, and boast of, and buy a name with, and friendship, and influence. 1 will not name his calling, for he disgraces even that, and there are men in it whose shoe latchet he may not unloose. The power of calculating his own interest is the only one of his soul that he has cultivated. He would depopu- late the world, if he could hold in fee simple the whole territory. Principle he has none. What is right, or virtuous, or decent — he never once asks himself, when money can be had. He would ruin his family to gain pelf, would school his offspring in his own house with the tippler, the lewd, and the lost, and then wonder why he has not better children. All the degraded pay court to him, will serve him because he feeds their appetites, and blunts their reason, and kills the keenness of their consciences, and smiles on their deeds of darkness and desperation. A friend he has not, nor cares to have, unless that friend will help him heap up gold. His very advocate is bought over to him by the fee, and has cursed his client as he passed him a thousand times, loudly and fearlessly. If you would kill the charm that his money has, his cringing advocate would rise, and put ofFhis hypocritical face, and shout a loud and long amen to every execration I can dash upon him. How has he treated my client, and why 1 hated him, insulted him, belied him, excited others to do the like deeds, and all the while be buying eulogies for himself by his drams. And for what all this ! For knowing him too well, for rebuking him too sharply, for holding out no Bible hope to him, for unbaring perdition to him, for hurting his fraudulent gains, by advocating a virtue that will not be duped by his money, and forming a public opinion that desecrates him, and last and most of all, by exhibiting a manliness of deportment, and a rigidness of morals, that casts upon him a shade dark as the sulphurous smoke of the pit. The court will not rebuke me. They ought so to do, were I speaking of a man. But they know, and the jury know, that my client has encountered a bear, who cannot be made more black, nor mischievous, nor deformed, than he really is. I submit the case. I need not have said any thing. The jury will stay in their box and write their verdict. They will rescue MAN HIS BROTHER'S KEEPER. 473 my client from the claws of the Ursus, and beat him off to go and hunt other prey, with his teeth blunted, and his nails shortened, and his track scented, as he traces his future midnight routes. Justice will overtake him now and hereafter. Now, by your ver- dict, and hereafter, by the storra of rebuke that will brood over him. His ill-gotten estate will go to the winds. Some heir of his will squander it as fast as he obtained it, and send his father's name with it into oblivion. Ah ! but 1 just now remember that he will be tried by a higher court, and have a being when the moon is turned to blood Let me say to him, Poor man, think of that last day Will your abuse of my client ease your expiring pillow X Will it stay the rage of the fever ( Will it cool your burning tongue I Will it .ight up your dying chamber 1 Will it bribe off death, and hold at bay his angels 1 Will it illumine your avenue to the dark world, or up- ward to a better! No. 60 SERMON XL I. TRUE PIETY PEACEFULLY PLEASANT. ROMANS VIII. 6. Hut to be spiritually minded is life and peace. We have here precisely the contrast of the dark picture con- tained in the former clause. That we may not mistake the cha- racter drawn in this clause of the text, we have the description in the verse preceding : " While they that are after the flesh mind the things of the flesh, they that are after the spirit mind the things of the spirit." They dwell with delight on the character o^ God, the plan of mercy, and the glories of heaven. Their thoughts and their affections are spiritual. They are frequently conversant with the things unseen, and find a real substance in all the objects of faith. With them, the body, with all its wants and cares, is a minor consideration, while the amazing interests of the soul are paramount to all other interests. To them the duties of religion are pleasant, and the cares and vexations of this life unpleasant. when they intrude upon the thoughts and cares of a better. To be thus spiritually minded is life and peace j or the life of true piety is a life of peaceful pleasure. This sentiment we shall illustrate. 1. A life of holiness is calculated to fill the mind with the rich- est enjoyment, and raise it to its highest state of improvement. The objects of contemplation that lie before the believing mind are dignified, and worthy its occupancy. The mind was made capable of dwelling with interest and profit on nobler objects than we can see or handle —objects thai can be seen only by the eye of faith. Hence the mind connected with a heart that is holy, rises above all that is created, and employs its powers in contem- plating; the glory of God, and the emanations of that glory which are spread over other beings. Some object of sense may be the vehicle that conveys the mind to God ; and when there it finds an infinite resource of all that is grand and rich. His attributes have each their attractive charms. To gaze upon but one would he all the heaven that a finite creature wouh' need. But the whole TRUE PIETY PEACEFULLY PLEASANT. 17 j combined become a cluster whose brightness entrances every power of the mind, and oblige it to forget itself — lost in a gran- deur, a greatness, and a glory which no language can describe. The plan of redemption which discloses the doctrine of a Trinity, and raises a hope in the breast of sinners, opens before the be- lieving mind a scene which it would love to linger through all the ages of its duration. Here the spiritual mind feasts, and grows, and lives. It is an atmosphere far above that which breathes about the carnal mind. It is true that the good man has too many thoughts that are earthly, sensual, and grovelling. He is too often conscious of starving a heavenly mind by detaining it on earth, and filling it with sublunary cares. But, habitually, the good man has some rich and noble thoughts every day, and grieves when they do not return every hour. He has laid up his treasure in heaven, a treasure to which his earthly good things will not compare, and about that treasure his mind loves to hover and play. Now who does not see that a mind thus occu- pied, has a more dignified employ than one that exhausts all its energies in the contemplation of what can moulder and rot. W hilt the one may be said to live, the other is subjected to death. In these sublime contemplations the reasoning powers find a profita ble employment, calculated to give them life and vigor. No man reasons correctly, who does not give to unseen things a paramount value. Nor has any man a subject worthy to employ his powers of research, who has always dwelt upon the objects of a created world It is the Christian who can the sooner mature his mental energies. When the great Newton was wandering about among the stars, had he not been the friend of God, and seen his hand in every law lie discovered, he would still have died as a child, and would have carried an infant mind to the judgment. But every tiling he saw bore the impress of an unseen agency, and led his mind up to the Author. The doctrines of the Bible, the duties and the destinies of men, employ to advantage the energies of a spiritual mind When it can there trace the history of Providence, or force its way down through the dark track of prophesy, it finds all its pow- ers put in requisition to vindicate the ways of God, to discover the designs of his mercy, and date the period of his forbearance, and its own deliverance. Thus to be spiritually minded is life, inas- rauch as it gives the intellect a proper employ, and best promotes the improvement of this noble power of the man. •2. A life of piety furnishes the heart with those affections which give it the highest pleasure, and best promote its improvement. *7G TRUE PIETY PEACEFULLY PLEASANT. There is no small object in God's kingdom. If he is not the im- mediate object of the affections of his people, still they have a no- ble object. If they love his law, bis gospel, his government, his Church, or even the humblest individual in his household, tliere is no one of these affections of which angels would be ashamed. " There is joy in tbe presence of the angels of God, over one sin- ner that repenteth." The objects of Christian affection are all of that nature that God highly approves, and to which heaven is closely assimilated. How altered is the man, who, from having placed his warmest regards on the dying objects of time and sense, is brought by the grace of God to love these higher, better objects ; who, having long employed his heart in exercises of pride, envy, covetousness, wrath, malice, lust, and every other base and sordid affection, is brought to the exercise of love, joy, and peace ; who having in- dulged unbelief and all the catalogue of wrong affections that fol- low in the tram, is now adding " to his faith, virtue ; and to virtue, knowledge ; and to knowledge, temperance; and to temperance, patience; and to patience, godliness ; and to godliness, brotherly kindness ; and to brotherly kindness, charity." It is impossible not to see that such a heart is more at rest, has a nobler employ- ment, breathes a higher, purer atmosphere, and enjoys a better peace, than tbe man who suffers his affections to linger about the objects of sense. Occasionally his enjoyment bears a very near relation to heaven itself. God is pleased to disclose his character, and grant a glimpse of his glory, and before it every object that was ever loved disappears, as the stars are hid by the beams of the sun. But these seasons are too short, and cannot be mentioned as the habitual condition of a believer. Still in the darkest hour, tbe be lievei bas heavenly affections, and may be said to live, while the unbeliever, in his happiest hours, is the prey of spiritual death. 3. Piety cultivates a better conscience than can be found in the carnally minded. The Christian is the only man who considers conscience his friend, who esteems it a blessing that God has placed this monitor in his bosom, and who expects with pleasure its admonitions. He aims to have his conscience enlightened. lakes proper pains to acquaint himself with duty, treasures up the truth, and with a moral sense thus illuminated, guides himself by its dictates. It becomes his habit to submit every moral act to ,*.!(' decisions of this internal court. Thus preserving a pure con ice, it often approves of his deeds, and when polluted is sprin TRUE PIETY PEACEFULLY PLEASANT. 477 kled again from dead works to serve the living God By latch a course, thin power of the soul is honored and improved, till the man carries the law with him, and is enabled, in a good degree, to square his life by its precepts. You will perceive that it is my aim to describe the thing as it should be. Too often, however, the good man does not cultivate that tenderness of conscience, which his comfort requires should exist. It was so polluted be- fore his conversion, and has even now so little light, that it may almost be said the light that is in him is darkness. The Christian, however, has one happy resort. When he has defiled his con- science, he applies afresh to the blood of sprinkling, is forgiven, and has peace of conscience. Probably Christians greatly differ in this respect, and no doubt they differ as widely in this aggre- gate of their joy. Other things being equal, he is far the happiest man who has the purest conscience, who most promptly applies for its decision, and most cheerfully obeys its dictates. Still, in every good man, conscience is more or less honored and culti- vated, while in the opposite character, it is hated and neglected, as heaven's unwelcome sentinel. 4. A life of piety promotes happiness. To be spiritually minded is life and peace. This is a point that will be generally conceded. It is said, however, that there are some whom religion has made unhappy. They are cut off* from the pleasures of sense, while their hopes of glory, and their enjoyment of God are too inoperat- ive to render them happy. That in many cases this appears to be true, there can be no doubt ; but there can be as little doubt that the failure is chargeable, not to religion, but to its absence. Great peace have they that love thy law, and nothing shall offend them. Said our Lord to his disciples, "Peace I leave with you ; my peace I o-ive unto you." And of all believers it is said, that they have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Now it would be infidelity to doubt whether God will fulfil his promises. In Christ they are all yea and amen. In these doubtful cases, then, we are to fear, either that the heart is not yet renewed, or that sin is still indulged, for which God in righteousness withholds his comforts. There is opened before the believer a vast resource, of comfort. He has joy in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, whom having not seen we love, and in whom though now we see him not, yet believing we rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory. He has fellowship with the Father, and with his Son Jesus Christ. He finds a friend and a brother in every follower of the Lord Jesus. 478 TRUE PIETY PEACEFULLY PLEASANT. He enjoys the ministry of angels. He is conscious of penitence, and has ordinarily a hope of forgiveness. He is permitted through rich grace to cast an eye forward toward heaven as his everlasting home. He may have many trials in the present life; but the pro- mise is, — and on this promise he lives, — that all things shall work- together for good to them that love God. Darkness may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning. He will be likely to have his enemies, but no weapon formed against him shall prosper He will be tempted, but with every temptation God will make a way of escape. In a little wrath God may hide his face from him for a moment, but with everlasting kindness will he have mercy upon him. His shoes shall be iron and brass, and as his day is so shall his strength be. God will be with him in six troubles, and in seven he will not forsake him. This charter reads, " When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee, and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee ; when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burnt — neither shall the flames kindle upon thee. For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways : they shall bear thee up in their hands, lest t lion dash thy foot against a stone.'1 " Therefore let no man glory in men, for all things are yours, whether Paul, or Apollos, or Cephas, or the world, or life, or death, or things present, or tilings to come ; all are yours, and ye are Christ's and Christ is God's." The promise and the persuasion is, that " neither death, nor life, nor angels nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord." The covenant that binds him to his Lord is an everlasting cove- nant, well ordered in all things, and sure. Hence, while he is as- sured that to live is Christ, he is equally confident that to die would be train. What he shall be it does not yet appear. He has about him a body of sin and death, has many fears that he may perish at last, and often, perhaps, refuses the comforts o fie red him, because his prospects of heaven are so clouded that he dares not to rejoice. Could he know that when the earthly house of this tabernacle is dissolved, he has a building of God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens, this would fill up the catalogue of his com- forts. As things are, hr would not quit his hold of heaven for a thousand worlds. And if he must wade them in his own tears, if to save his soul he must let every creature comfort go, still the hope of heaven can make amends. TRUE PIETY PEACEFULLY PLEASANT. 479 If, in this shaded description of the good man, any of you sup- pose that I have made him, and left him unhappy, then is there a doubt whether you are of the character I have described. In ihe midst of his tears the good man is happy. He weeps because he is a sinner, and because he hopes he is forgiven. He is troubled on every side, but not distressed , lie is perplexed, but not in de- spair; persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroy- ed. His light afflictions are but for a moment, and will work out for him a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. Thus, to be spiritually minded, is life and peace. I close with one REMARK. If thus abundant are the joys of the spiritually minded in this life, how unspeakable must be the glory of the life to come. The Christian, when he escapes from this dark world, will leave behind him this dying body. It is now a clog and a vexation to his hea- venly mind. When the spirit may be willing, the flesh is weak. But the long expected moment arrives soon, when this mortal shall put on immortality, and death be swallowed up in victory. This weary head, as said the dying Harriet,* will soon rest sweetly on the bosom of Jesus. We read, They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more. The inhabitants of the heavenly world shall no more say they are sick. The weary are to be at rest. Every tear shall be dry. The disembodied mind will be greatly enlightened. There will not hang over it those dark mists that now becloud every prospect. The ways of God will be illuminated, and the wisdom of all his purposes appear. No more shall it be said that clouds and dark- ness are round about him, or be doubted whether righteousness and judgment are the habitations of his throne. The believer will no longer see through a glass darkly, but face to face. He will then be satisfied, having awaked from death in the likeness of his Redeemer. Which leads me to say farther, he will be free from sin. He will no longer tire under the body of this death. I shall be like him, said one of his holy family, for I shall see him as he is. What un- utterable joy must this thought create. There can be no hope so rich as thai ihe day is coming when I shall no more oflfend my Savior by sin, when my conscience will be no more polluted, and my peace destroyed by disobedience. One might wish all the * Harriet Newell. 4<80 TRUE PIETY PEACEFULLY PLEASANT. years annihilated that separate him from that happy hour. How does the animated soul leap forward to embrace the pleasures of that lovely moment. Yes, my brother, you may hope that one day sin will no more have dominion over you. If it seems a bles- sing too rich for such a worm as you, then you have only to adore the grace thnt issued this doom. Just so kind are the designs of God. And if his grace does not draw forth our warmest gratitude the very stones of the street will cry out. Here when the Christian quits the body he will leave behind him all his fears. The fear that he may yet perish sometimes fills him with agony. He would give a world to have this one ques- tion settled. Conceive, brethren, how you must feel if one day you shall find yourselves in heaven. You will look back, and the danger is all over. It was night about you, but the true light has come. You passed close by the margin of the pit, but God cover- ed it with his hand. You was condemned, but the Lord Jesus rjave his life for your ransom. You grieved the Spirit, but he did not utterly forsake you. You became cold, and he revived you ; you wandered, and he brought you back with stripes. Of all the wonders of heaven, you will say, this is the greatest, That 1 am here. They went to perdition from my neighborhood, some of my own mother's children have perished, and I in heaven. And why, Lord Jesus, why me. Why was I pressed on to this abode of joy, while my own brother is lost, and my father is lost, and she that be? r me, and bent over me and heard my dying lips, have missed th< way, and can never mingle their song with mine. Blesse Je'is, thou hast been my deliverer. SERMON XLII. THE ENEMIES OF THE CHURCH MADE TO PROMOTE HER INTERESTS. ISAIAH X. 5 — 12. O Assyrian, the rod of mine anger, and the staff in their hand is mine indignation. I will send him against an hypocritical nation, and against the people of my wrath will I give hiin a charge, to take the spoil, and to take the prey, and to tread them down like the mire of the streets. How- beit he meaneth not so, neither doth his heart think so; but it is in his heart to destroy and cut off nations not a few. For he saith, are not my princes altogether kings ? Is not Calno as Carche- mish ? ia not Hamath as Arpad 1 is not Samaria as Damascus'? As my hand hath found the kingdoms of the Idols, and whose graven images did excel them of Jerusalem and of Samaria ; shall I not, as t have done unto Samaria and her idols, so do to Jerusalem and her idols'? Winn lore it shall come to pass, that when the Lord hath performed his whole work upon Mount Zion, and on Jerusalem, I will punish the fruit of the stout heart of the king of Assyria, and the glory of his high looks. We sometimes discover, in a scrap of sacred story, a rich and lucid comment upon the essential doctrines of revelation. The simple statements of facts, dissipates the darkness that obscured the ways of God, and removes the cloud behind which rolls the wheels of Providence. Let us only read of what God, by his im mediate agency, or by the agency of others, has done, and wc shall find very little mystery in all he has said. The doctrines are noth- ing more than the general principles of the Divine administration. The moment men put themselves in the attitude of quarrel with what God has said, they invariably tax themselves with the neces- sity of denying what he has done. The father who returns to his house, and finds his beloved child a corpse, and still denies the sovereignty of God, proves himself a pitiable reasoner. A doc- trine so pointedly illustrated, can no longer be matter of doubt, unless he choose to believe a lie. ■182 THE ENEMIES OF THE CHURCH The lustory of the Assyrian invasion, foreseen and described by the prophet in the text and context, is one of those expository Scriptures, which illustrate and confirm, what are erroneously termed the hard doctrines of revelation. < !od is here seen in the attitude of administering correction to his people, and using wick- ed men as the staff, destined like any other rod to be committed to the fire, when the children are reduced to obedience. If instead of intending to bless the people of God, they mean not so, mean no service to their .Maker, but their own elevation, intend to in- jure whom they hate, all this does not disqualify them to be the sword of the Lord. There is something fearfully interesting in the Divine sovereignty, thus illustrated by the very finger of God himself. We must either believe what God has spoken on this subject, or deny what he has done, and what he is doing daily before our very eyes. I must detain you a few moments, on the historical facts in the case, and then notice more largely the doctrines they inculcate. I. We attend to the historical facts, God had a church in the family of Abraham, but they were so wicked, that he styles them in the text a hypocritical nation. He would correct them for their sins, and would employ for this purpose Sennacherib the king of Assyria, the very staff they had leaned on. But that prince would intend no such good to the covenant people of God ; his object would be devastation and plunder. It was in his heart to destroy and cut off nations not a few. He boasted, and heaven knew his impudence, that his power was great, his victories numerous and splendid, his princes, monarchs, and the gods all too weak to re- sist him. And the worst is yet to be spoken, he threatened that he would do to Jerusalem's God as he had done to the deities around him. How contemptible must he have appeared to him who sitteth in the heavens. Thus the axe boasted itself against him that hewed with it, the saw against him that shook it, and the rod threatened him who lifted it up. God now resolved that when lie had chastised Israel for their idolatry, and their waywardness, he would curse tin1 Assyrian for his pride. He might live till he had performed all the Divine will upon Mount Zion, and upon Jerusalem, then God would punish the fruit of his stout heart, and bring down the glory of his high looks. God would make him Know that he was a mere worm, that an Almighty arm, and not his own, had gotten him his victories, and MADE TO PROMOTE HER INTERESTS. 483 that all his wrath toward the people of God, must meet a final and a fearful judgment. When God speaks in the text of sending that proud and impious man, to chastise his people, we are not to understand that God would command him to go, or justify the motives by which he would be actuated. God does not punish as zcrime, the very dee 1 which his injunction renders duty. It is believed that nothing more is meant, than that God would so order events, that the \ - syiian should hope to gratify his avarice and his pride in hum- bling Jerusalem. The history tells for itself, that the king had onrj purpose, and the King of kings another, and that God kept his own purpose a secret from the miscreant whom he used as his rod. Why was he not sent of God, precisely in the same sense as God hardened the heart of Pharaoh \ by the concurrence of events, that should have produced a contrary resolve. The Egyptian's heart was hardened by means that should have softened it : by al- ternate judgments and mercies, that should have rendered him one of the holiest men that has lived. So the Assyrian was sent, by an agency that should have rendered him Jerusalem's warmest friend. God had given him victory over the idols whose shrines he had assaulted, and made him rich with the spoil. He should then have honored the God of battles, and should have come to Jerusalem to worship his Benefactor. He should have been con- tent, when he had been suffered to spoil the temples of idolatry. But these very successes made him covet the treasures of Jeru- salem, and thus had the very opposite effect which they should and would have had, upon a benevolent and holy mind. There is a parallel case in Jeremiah. The Church had forfeited the favor of God, and must go into captivity. Babylon must lead them captive, and when Israel should be humbled, must be punished for making war with the people of God. Read the twenty-fifth chapter of Jeremiah, and you will have the facts in a shape more interesting, than that in which any comment can place them. Thus God employs wicked men in the service of his people, while they mean far otherwise, and are in fact the agents of anoth- er prince. Still God holds them accountable, restrains their wrath when it will not praise him, and finally does his whole pleasure, precisely as though the agents he employed were his trusty and devoted servants. How calculated are such facts to begel respect for the character and ways of God! How do they corrob the doctrines of revelation, and humble the pride of man! It is a solemn and bitter reflection, that the people of (I<»d must 4S4 THE ENEMIES OF THE CHURCH be so frequently and severely chastised. That God should terra them a hypocritical nation, and the people of his wrath, and let loose upon them the armies of idolatry, to scatter and peal them. But God will assuredly take care of his own people, and though many may perish who profess his name : still where he has begun a good work, he will not fail to employ the best means and the best agents, till the work be consummated, and the happy subjects are brought home to his kingdom. II. There are several doctrines that these facts inculcate, which now claim our particular attention ; each prominently suggested in the text. There is an important sense in which unregenerate men are the servants of the most high God. He employs them to bless his people. They mean not so. While they are doing their work, God restrains them. When their work is done, as God intended it should be, he will punish them for not doing his pleasure from right motives. 1. There is an important sense in which unregenerate men are the servants of the most high God. This general truth is seen distinct- ly in the service done by the Assyrian for backsliding Israel. God would send him, and would give him a charge, to take the spoil, and to take the prey, and to tread them down like the mire of the streets. In support of the proposition, that ungodly men are the servants of the Lord, we say, He gave them being. He made all things for himself, yea even the wicked for the day of evil. If men have become alienated in their hearts, still God is their rightful Sover- eign. His propriety in them is original and unalienable. If they have entered into the employ of the adversary, still God has given them no discharge from his service. His right to them as his creatures can admit of no question. And it will not be denied that men, however offensive their cha- racter in the sight of God, are dependant on him as their Pre- server and Benefactor. " In him we live, and move, and have our being." Said the Psalmist, "The eyes of all wait on thee, and thou givest them their meat in due season. Thou openest thine hand, ami satis fi est the desire of every living thing." Thus wicked men are the property of God, and are preserved by him, two essen- tial relationships between the master and his servants. And he has occasionally styled them his servants. " I will send ami t.nce al. the families of the north, saith the Lord, and Nebu- chadnezzar, the king of Babylon, my .servant and I will bring them MADE TO PROMOTE HER INTERESTS. 485 against this land." His anointed, and his shepherd, are terms which God applied to Cyrus. And he commissioned the prophet to say to Israel, " The sons of strangers shall build up thy wall, and their kings shall minister unto thee — For the nation and kingdom that will not serve thee shall perish." Thus the world, from its crowned heads to its meanest vassals, are constituted the servants of the Church of God. And he assigns the ungodly their work, as the master does the servant. The law of God, in all its minute detail, is the rule of duty to every ungodly man. And he has sometimes specified the service which he required of individual sinners, still withholding from them a knowledge of his purpose. Sennacherib must scourge the backsliding Church, Nebuchadnezzar carry them to Babylon, and Cyrus restore them, and rebuild their city and their temple. Nebuchadnezzar was sent to punish the iniquity of Tyre, and was then directed to take Egypt as a prey. Thus have the enemies of God been assigned sometimes a specific task, as the master de- cides in what field each servant of his shall toil. And God sits in judgment upon the service which unregenerate men do for him. I refer now, not to the last judgment, but to decisions which God passes, and punishments which he inflicts in the pre- sent life. Nor yet do I refer to judgments, which God inflicts upon the wicked generally, but to those instances when he has ter- ribly reproved them, for not doing to his mind the very work as- signed them. I shall notice here but a single case — Nebuchadnez- zar, the king- of Babylon, was the Lord's sword to punish Israel, and all the nations bordering upon Israel. So eminently was he sustained as the Lord's servant, to scourge the nations, that de- struction was threatened to every nation that did not submit to him. And still, in performing the very service for which he was thus made great, he so offended God as to render his overthrow as conspicuous as had been his pride, his insolence, and his oppressions. I remark once more, in confirmation of the fact that wicked men are God's servants, that he rewards them for their labors. For the hard service which the king of Babylon performed against Tyre, in which every head was made bald, and every shoulder pealed, lie was commissioned to go and take the spoil of Egypt as his reward. Indeed, so extensively was that man employed by the God of heaven, to scourge the enemies of Israel, and his own Church when they needed chastisement, that there went out in his behalf this wonderful edict : " I have given all these lands into the hands 48G l'HE ENEMIES OF THE CHURCH of Nebuchadnezzar, the king of Babylon, my servant, and the beasts of the field have I given him also, to serve him ; all nations shall serve him, and his son, and his son's son, until the very time of his land come." — " The nations that bring their neck under the yoke of the king of Babylon, and serve him, those will I let remain still in their own land, saith the Lord ; and they shall till it and • luell therein." Even Israel was commanded, "Bring your necks under the yoke of the king of Babylon, and serve him, and his people, and live" I will mention only one other case, out of scores that might he mentioned, where God rewarded a wicked man, for services done him. Jehu seems not to have been a man of God, but for the service he performed, in cutting off the house of Ahab, and destroying idolatry, his children, to the fourth gene- ration, should sit upon the throne of Israel. It is believed by many, that .the promise contained in the fifth commandment, and all those which secure present prosperity to the liberal, are often fulfilled to ungodly men, who from wrong motives, have honored their parents, or been generous to the Church and people of God. Perhaps many a wealthy man in our land, who yet has no treasure laid up in heaven, has received his wealth of the Lord, in reward for deeds of kindness done his people, or exertions made to extend and bless his kingdom. With the measure they mete, it shall be measured to them aofain. If, without loving God, they will feed his children, and sustain his ministers, and spread his gospel, he will, without loving them, fill their barns with plenty, and cause their presses to burst out with new wine. It was perishable treasure that they loaned to him, in perishable materials he will reward them a thousand fold. But the wealth he bestows, since they gave him not their hearts, can- not be accounted a covenant blpssing. It may be so abused in their hands, as to ripen them for an earlier destruction. May the mercy of a pardoning God prevent ! Thus do we argue, that wicked men are God's servants. He gave them being, is their preserver, and benefactor ; has styled them his servants, has appointed them their work, sits in judg- ment upon the services they render him, and rewards them for their labors. I have not said they were servants in the same sense in which his people receive this appellation. Unhappily it is in a widely different sense. The one accomplishes his purposes with no such design, and is rewarded with the meat that perishes ; the other receives the law at his mouth, does his will with design, MADE TO PROMOTE HER INTERESTS. 487 and has for his reward the meat that endure th to everlasting life I proceed to the 2. Prominent suggestion of the text, God employs wicked men ta bless his people. If God would say to his Church once, " For the nation and kingdom that will not serve thee shall perish ;" why has he not thus published to the world a permanent and established principle of his government ! And if nations hold their being and their prosperity, on the condition that they subserve the interests of God's people, why do we not infer with assurance, that indi- viduals are under the same law? Hence all the ungodly, and especially those who shall die in their sins, live to serve the Church of our Lord Jesus Christ. Tbis subject is illustrated in the parable of the tares and the wheat ; they must both grow together till the harvest. It is easy to see how grieved and injured would be many of the people of God, were not his enemies permitted to live. Remove the wicked husband, and the pious wife is a widow, poor, and dependant, and exposed to temptation and reproach ; while her children, the seed of the covenant, are perhaps removed from her, must be unedu- cated, be reared without the means of grace, and in a world, cold, and inhospitable like this, might be constrained to beg their bread. Thus the promise of God would come to the ground. In other cases, one who is not born of God may be, as it re- gards temporalities, the support of a Christian Church. His death might remove its faithful pastor, and the people perish for lack of vision. On the exertions of one wricked man may depend, in a variety of ways, the instruction of a vast number of the rising ge- neration. God, then, will sustain him in life, and fill his store- house with good things, and bless him, that he may bless others, and continue him down to the extremest old age. It may happen that one who does not love God may be a valu- ible citizen or statesman. The pressure of government may be ipon his shoulders, and a state or kingdom be greatly injured by his death, and ultimately the church suffer. Let both then ur good. Trials may come from a quarter unexpected, and from chose who owe us the kindest treatment. We took sweet counsel with them, and went to the house of God in company. Be it even so, still faith assures us that their injuries will bless .us, will sane- WRATH CONQUERED BY LOVE. 507 tify us, and help us on in our preparation for the enjoyment of God in his kingdom. This one question settled, and I will inflict no wound upon my adversary. He is doing me everlasting o-ood, and though he mean not so, still I cannot injure him who is con- strained to be my benefactor. I will forgive him before he asks forgiveness, and will exert myself to induce him to pass on to heaven with me. And if unsuccessful, still the promise, " I will never leave thee nor forsake thee," will bear(my spirits up through the darkest and dreariest hour. 5. It should ever be our reflection in the hour of attack, that to be like Christ, we must not resist evil. " He was led as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth." He passed meekly through torrents of abuse. It poured in upon him, wave after wave, but he stood, a rock. When they would catch him in his words, he spoke wisely and kindly. When they would stone him, he inquired for which of his kind deeds they did it. When that fiend of midnight betrayed him, after joining in the Pascal supper, and having long borne the badge of discipleship, how meekly he inquired, "Betray est thou the Son of Man with a kiss 1" Now would we be followers of the Lord Jesus, the track is plain; we must not suffer ourselvei to be overcome of evil. Finally, there is the direct command of God. No precept can be more binding than the text. To indulge a vindictive spirit is an infringement upon the Divine prerogative. "Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord." There is a day of retribution ap- pointed, and one is constituted judge who cannot err. In the hour of conflict we have only to refer men to that day when every wrong will be rectified. And if our sufferings are prolonged, still the years of heaven will run on till they are all forgotten. A Christian is but a pardoned rebel, and may not avenge himself. And all others may well fear to be vindictive, lest wrath come upon them to the uttermost. With the same measure that we mete, it shall be measured to us again. III. How may toe overcome evil with good? To do this will re- quire the sacrifice of bad passions. The unrenewed heart has a keen relish for revenge. Not the most delicious food pleases the palate better. But this malicious appetite the grace of <;<> I must subdue, ere the heaven-born principle in the text can be adopted : a sufficient reason why the heathen have never imbibed the spirit of meekness. Parents taught their chil Iren to retain anger. In- 508 WRATH CONQUERED BY LOVE. stance the father of Annibal, whose dying injunction to his son was, that he should never forgive the Romans : this precept he must swear he would obey. And many children learn of their parents now the same lesson. They are apt to learn, and they often have precept and practice to teach them. " Cursed parents ! Cursed children !" But let the heart be once subdued by the grace of God, and the lesson of the text is easily learned. The doctrine is simply this. If one treats us unkindly, we must treat him well. If he defame, let us say the kindest things possible of him. If he hurt our in- terest, let us advance his. If he expose our faults, let us cover his. If he will not oblige us, we must do kindnesses to him. If he deals reproach, we must practice no retort. If he curse us we must pray for him ; if he hunger we must feed him, and if he thirst give him drink. If he smite us on the one cheek, turn the other. In one word, when he has done his best to injure us, let us do our best to bless and comfort him. It may be well, when possible, to do another good in the very article in which he has intended our hurt. This will be entering tin' list with him, and will bring our virtues into a close compari- son with his iniquities ; thus shall we heap coals of fire on his head, and he be not a rock, shall melt and subdue him. When we would overcoire an enemy with kindness, we make his conscience our ally, and bring him to hate himself and respect us. Then his weapons recoil upon his own head, and his violent dealings come down upon his own pate. We conquer him by love. But in every effort of this nature we must feel kindly. A conn terfeit affection will not bear us through. The heart must he primarily consulted in every such act of Christian revenue. Else the hypocrisy will be evident, and the defeat certain. When Paul said to the high priest, who had commanded him to be unlawfully smitten, " God shall smite thee, thou whited wall," he neither obeyed the injunction of the text, nor was in a proper state of mind to obey it. Not even piety will render it certain that we shall feel kindly under abuse. In the blessed Jesus we have the only example that never failed. He was proof against every attack. The only case in which he exhibited the appearance of anger, was when his Father's house was made a den of thieves; and then he was angry without sin. Let our temper be like his, and we shall find it easy to do right ; and to be like him, we are infinitely obligated. It may greatly help us, when w come in contact with unhal- WRATH CONQUERED BY LOVE. 509 lowed passions, to reflect, that not certainly is the mnn our enemy, who may be tempted to treat us unkindly. When he has done us this one injury, if we bear it with a Christian temper, he may re- main kindly disposed to us, may become a firm and steady friend : while our wrath and revenge may erect him into a subtle and dan- gerous enemy. He may have made his onset upon us in an hour of irritation, and may be in an hour, more ashamed of himself than we are of him. Is the offender an ungodly man, there is a single thought that must prepare us to meet his rage with calmness. He has no treasure in the heavens. He is passing on to the blackness of darkness for ever. We shall see him when a few days have gone by, unless the grace of God prevent, covered with shame and con- fusion. His harvest will be passed and his summer ended, and he not saved. And can we be angry to-day with one who is to perish to-morrow \ Can any sensation but pity control us, while we see a deluded man raving on the very threshold of perdition 1 Or is the offender a Christian, then how it should shame us to become angry with him. Angry with a brother, a follower of the Lord Jesus ! He could not intend me wrong ; his judgment erred ; he will as'< forgiveness, before the sun goes down, of God and of me. The followers of the Lord Jesus bite and devour one an- other ! " 0, tell it not in Gath ; publish it not in the streets of Aska'lon !" The Savior must not be so wounded in the house of his friends. Let me have, [ will not say my religion, let me have my reason in exercise, and I will bear any thing from a child of God. For my right hand, I will not raise it against one who is heir with me to an inheritance in the skies, and is to help me adore the Lamb for ever. Joint heirs with Jesus Christ ! what, a binding influence has this thought upon Christian hearts. REMARKS. 1. How highly should we value our Bibles which teach us this amiable lesson. But for this book, we had never learned how to re- ceive an injury, or forgive one. It belongs not to human nature, untaught from heaven, to invent such a sentiment as the text. Our parents hail been tierce and cruel, and they had taught US to he implacable, had not the Bible been the associate of oar home. And how this one heavenly principle lessens the miseries o| hu- man life ! \\<\v many the wrongs it obliterates, and how many ol the social en I >arments it begets ! Precious book, be thou the in* mati- of my bosom, till the spirit shall quit its house of clay ! 2. This subject will teach us to pity the heathen. Their end- 510 WRATH CONQUERED BY LOVE. less quarrels are because they have no Bible. They would let their children, their widows, their sick, and their aged live, if they had a Bible. They would forgive their enemies and be meek, and benevolent, and gracious, had they not been without the book that leaches these heavenly lessons. Send them a few of your Bibles, and they will soon beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning-hooks, and those vast fields of blood will be transformed into the garden of the Lord. He will accompany his word with his Spirit. 3. How happy the period of the Millenium. The Bible will then have its legitimate influence, and there will prevail the very spirit inculcated in the text. In what noble figures does the prophet teach us this truth, " The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid ; and the calf and the young lion and the Catling together ; and a little child shall lead them. And the cow and the bear shall feed ; their young ones shall lie down together ; and the lion shall eat straw like the ox. And the sucking child shall play on the hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall put his hand on the cocatrice-den. They shall not hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain : for the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea." You have often read this precious text. How happy the eyes that are not closed upon the scenes of life, till that sweet morning has come, and all these tumults, that keep this world a wilderness, have subsided ! May some favored child of mine live to see that happy period. 4. Let us learn, brethren, whether that day approaches. It will not burst upon us in a moment. There will be a gradual increase of that spirit which the text inculcates; till every parent will teach it to his children, and every child will love to learn. From the family circle it will spread out over the whole land, and render it Immanuel's land, a mountain of holiness and a habitation of right- eousness. Do we see an increase of this spirit \ Do we feel it in our hearts 1 Does it go out to view in our daily deportment ! Then the day approaches. 5. This subject will try our piety. Can we overcome evil with good 1 Does the tiger or the lamb, predominate in our social in- tercourse 1 When we receive abuse, with what temper do we act 1 To this test our religion must nt last be brought, and by this and other similar tests, the question must be decided, whether we can be happy with angels, or must make our bed in the pit. Will God sanctify us by his Spirit, and fit us all to dwell in u peaceful happy world. Amen. SERMON XL IV. A BRAND PLUCKED FROM THE FIRE. LUKE XXIII. 43. To-day shall thou be with me in Paradise. The sc^ne of the crucifixion was, in many respects, the most awfully interesting that ever human eyes witnessed. Many thino-s combined 10 create this interest : the time, the place, the motley mixture of character among both the persecuted and the perse- cutors, the miracles wrought, the worlds interested in the event, all conspired to render the moment like no other since the wheels of time began to move. Angels gazed, and devils, at the whole scene, and probably every world in being was interested. And yet, in all this scene, it has seemed to me that the redemp- tion of the dying thief was one of the most interesting circum- stances. Here was seen all the