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 BX 9815 .P7 1834 
 Priestley, Joseph, 1733- 
 
 1804. 
 Views of Christian truth, 
 
 piety, and morality 
 
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VIEWS 
 
 CHRISTIAN TRUTH, PIETY, 
 
 MORALITY, 
 
 SELECTED FROM THE WRITINGS OF 
 
 / 
 
 DR. PRIESTLEY. 
 
 A MEMOIR OF HIS LIFE, 
 BY HENRY WARE, Jr. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE : 
 
 JAMES MUNROE AND COMPANY. 
 
 1834. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1834, 
 
 Bv James Munroe and Company, 
 
 in llie Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts 
 
 Cambridge .- 
 Manson, Emerson, and Grant, Printers. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 It is many years ago that the idea of the present publi- 
 cation occurred to me. In looking at some of the works 
 of this voluminous writer, I perceived that there were 
 many passages, now unknown, which, if collected together, 
 would form a valuable volume of religious instruction, ac- 
 ceptable to devout readers and honorable to the memory 
 of the distinguished author. Various circumstances de- 
 layed the execution of the design, and I had finally com- 
 mitted it to the charge of a friend who proposed to do it 
 at his leisure. Meantime some recent abusive notices of 
 Priestley recalled my attention to the subject, and seemed 
 to present a fitting occasion for a work which would 
 at once instruct and animate religious readers, and do 
 something toward vindicating the character of an injured 
 man ; a man, who, with all his errors, and they seem to 
 me to have been many, was yet distinguished for a pure 
 and unalienable devotion to the cause of Christianity, a 
 strong piety, an incorruptible love. of truth, and an integ- 
 rity and simplicity truly apostolic. Little as I can sym- 
 pathise with many of his favorite views, I can still less 
 sympathise with the injustice which consigns so much 
 excellence to calumny and disgrace. 
 
 I am not insensible to the hazard which he runs 
 who attempts to shield a name which has been aban- 
 doned to theological reproach. He is quite as likely to 
 draw the obloquy on himself as to remove it from the 
 
IV PREFACE. 
 
 former victim. But, notwithstanding, it seems to me 
 that true goodness ought to be honored wherever found, 
 and that he who honors ought to be ready to vindicate 
 it at whatever hazard. They who can admire Fenelon 
 with all his Catholic errors, ought not to be ashamed of 
 their admiration for Priestley with all his Protestant errors. 
 It is not the error, in either case, which is admired ; it is 
 the virtue which is seen to exist in the midst of and in spite 
 of the error. If my love of Fenelon does not cause me 
 to be identified with his Romanism, neither ought my 
 respect for Priestley to make me responsible for his ob- 
 noxious peculiarities. And while the beautiful writings of 
 the Catholic Archbishop are familiarly read among us in 
 spite of his adherence to the Pope, let the simple pages of 
 the English Divine, less beautiful indeed but not less tme 
 and wholesome, find an entrance equally unprejudiced to 
 our tables and our hearts. It is but the demand of com- 
 mon justice. I cannot believe that the Christian world 
 will be deterred for ever firom giving heed to it. 
 
 With these few words of explanation, I commend this 
 humble effort to the candor of the Christian public, and the 
 blessing of Almighty God. 
 
 H. W. Jr. 
 
 Cambridge, ^pril 26, 1834. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Memoir of Dr. Priestley. - - - - - - vii 
 
 The Duty of not Living to Ourselves. A Sermon. - - 1 
 
 The Danger of Bad Habits. A Sermon. - - - 28 
 
 Habitual Devotion. ------ 41 
 
 Social and Public Worship. - - - - - 53 
 
 Ostentation in Religion. ----- 60 
 
 Family Worship. - - - - - - -63 
 
 Observance of the Lord's Day. - - . - 65 
 
 The Lord's Supper. - - - - - - 67 
 
 Study of the Scriptures. ----- 71 
 
 The Christian Character. - - - - - - 75 
 
 The Christian in the World. 79 
 
 Religious Use of the World. - - - - - 87 
 
 Christianity Elevates the Character. - - - - 89 
 
 The Christian Character, how Formed. - - - - 96 
 
 The Christian Character not appreciated by the World. - 101 
 
 The Christian ready to suffer for his Faith. - - - 103 
 
 Forgiveness of Injuries. . - - - . 106 
 
 Charity the Debt of the Rich to the Poor. - - - -107 
 
 The Objects of Education. - - - - - 110 
 
 Of Instruction in the Principles of Morals and Religion. - - 113 
 
 The Importance of Early Religious Instruction. - - 120 
 
 Infidelity. 126 
 
 Tendency to Atheism in Modern Unbelievers. - - 130 
 Duty of Christians respecting the present prevalence of Infidelity 141 
 
 Superior Value of Revealed Religion. - - - 148 
 Divine Mission of Moses. ------ 158 
 
 The Character of Christ. - - - .- - 162 
 The Spread of Christianity a Proof of its Truth. - - - 166 
 Religious Knowledge, — Addressed to the Youth of his Congre- 
 gation in Leeds. ------ 171 
 
 Character of the Rev. Richard Price, D. D. - - - 175 
 
 Character of the Rev. Robert Robinson. ... 184 
 
 Miscellaneous Thoughts. -.-... 189 
 
MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. 
 
 Dr. Priestley was born at Fieldhead, near Leeds in York- 
 shire, on the 13th of March, old style, 1733. He received 
 impressions of religion and truth from the instructions of his 
 mother, who died when he was seven years old. She was a 
 sincerely religious woman, who carefully taught him the 
 Assembly's Catechism, and was so anxious to impress on him 
 ideas of right, that she once made him carry back to his 
 uncle's house a pin which he had picked up when playing 
 there with his cousins. Two years after her death, he was 
 adopted by an aunt, Mrs. Keighly, with whom he afterwards 
 lived as her own child, and of whom he always spoke in the 
 most grateful terms, saying that she was truly a parent to 
 him. She was, as his parents had been, a devoted Calvinist, 
 though not of the most exclusive character ; she maintained 
 constant intercourse and friendship with several of the most 
 heretical ministers in the vicinity. Thus he was brought up, 
 as he tells us,* " with sentiments of piety, but without big- 
 otry ; and having, from his earliest years, given much attention 
 to the subject of religion, he was as much confirmed as he 
 well could be in the principles of Calvinism, all the books 
 that came in his way having that tendency." His brother 
 records of him, " At four years of age he could repeat the 
 Assembly's Catechism without missing a word. When about 
 six and a half, he would now and then ask me to kneel down 
 with him while he prayed." 
 
 * Memoirs of his ow^n Life, p. 7. (London, 1809). 
 
VIU MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. 
 
 He had an early love for learning, and made rapid pro- 
 gress in his studies, allowing himself very little time for recre- 
 ation. Between the ages of eleven and thirteen, he read 
 most of the works of Bunyan, as well as other writers on reli- 
 gion, besides the common Latin authors, and at an early age 
 learned Hebrew, Chaldee, Syriac, and Arabic. The dispo- 
 sition of his mind was wholly toward divinity, and all the cir- 
 cumstances of his situation favored the growth of a religious 
 character, and a disposition to religious inquiry. Before going 
 from home to pursue his studies, he was desirous of becoming 
 a communicant. But the elders of the church refused him, 
 because he could not agree that " all the human race (sup- 
 posing them not to have any sin of their own), were liable to 
 the wrath of God and the pains of hell forever, on account of 
 the sin of Adam only." Some time before this, as he relates, 
 he had been much distressed that he could not feel a proper 
 repentance for the sin of Adam. But he had now learned to 
 think differently on the subject, and pursuing his inquiries 
 became a decided Arminian. 
 
 It was the earnest desire of his aunt and other friends, 
 that he would place himself in the Academy at Mile-end, 
 under the care of Dr. Conder. But this he resolutely oppos- 
 ed ; because he would there not only be required to relate 
 his experience, but " to subscribe his assent to ten printed 
 articles of the strictest Calvinistic faith, and repeat it every 
 six months." The consequence was that he nearly lost his 
 education ; but it was at length decided that he should go to 
 Daventry. This was in September, 1752. The three years 
 which he spent at that institution, he always looked back 
 upon with great satisfaction. The method of theological 
 instruction was very free, variety of sentiment existed upon 
 many important questions both among teachers and pupils, 
 liberty of opinion and discussion was fully allowed, and every 
 inquirer arrived at his results after an opportunity for a 
 thorough and unbiassed investigation. The result in the 
 case of young Priestley was, that he still further modified the 
 
MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. IX 
 
 opinions both religious and philosophical of his early educa- 
 tion, and he left the institution an Arian and a Necessarian. 
 His diligence in study may be inferred from the fact, that, 
 besides his stated duties, he read in company with a fellow- 
 student, ten folio pages of Greek every day, besides a Greek 
 play every week, and composed the first copy of his " Insti- 
 tutes of Religion." 
 
 On leaving the Academy he took charge of a small con- 
 gregation at Needham. But an impediment in his speech 
 rendered him unpopular in the pulpit, and his heretical opin- 
 ions caused him to be shunned when he attempted to open a 
 school ; and at the end of three years he removed to Nant- 
 wich, in Cheshire, where the congregation was still smaller 
 than in Needham, consisting of only about sixty persons. 
 Here he remained three years, teaching a school of about 
 thirty-six pupils from seven in the morning till four in the 
 afternoon, and then giving instruction in a private family till 
 seven in the evening. He appears to have obtained no small 
 reputation as a teacher, and in September, 17G1, he was re- 
 moved to the office of Tutor in the languages at the Academy 
 in Warrington. 
 
 Here he married in 17G2, and lived happily for six years. 
 As a teacher he was indefatigably laborious, not confining 
 himself to his own department, that of the languages ; but 
 lecturing also on oratory, history, civil law, and anatomy. 
 His lectures on oratory and on history were afterwards pub- 
 lished. It was during this period, that, in one of his annual 
 visits to London, he became acquainted with Dr. Franklin, 
 and was induced to compose the " History of Electricity," 
 and to interest himself more than he had ever yet done in 
 philosophical experiments. It is one among a multitude of 
 proofs of his versatility and power of despatch, that he com- 
 posed and printed this large and valuable work in less than 
 twelve months, though engaged five hours daily in lecturing 
 in the Academy. 
 
 In 1767 Dr. Priestley accepted an invitation to take the 
 
K MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. 
 
 pastoral charge of Mill-hill Chapel at Leeds, whither he re- 
 moved in September, and where he remained for six years. 
 Here he was as indefatigable a minister as he had been a 
 tutor at Warrington. " I continued six years," he says, 
 " very happy with a liberal, harmonious, and friendly congre- 
 gation, to whom my services, of which I was not sparing, 
 were very acceptable. Here I had no unreasonable prejudi- 
 ces to contend with, so that I had full scope for every kind of 
 exertion ; and I can truly say that I always considered the 
 office of a Christian minister the most honorable of any on 
 earth, and in the studies proper to it I always took the greatest 
 pleasure." These studies he had never remitted in the midst 
 of his previous occupations ; but he now devoted himself to 
 them with more exclusive attention, and pursued them 
 widely. From this time his publications became more fre- 
 quent, and on a great variety of subjects. Now it was that he 
 planned and commenced the publication of his " Theological 
 Repository." And as if all this variety of labor was nothing, 
 he here entered on that course of patient and ingenious ex- 
 periments in Natural Philosophy which were attended with 
 so brilliant success, and have given him a high place among 
 the great discoverers and philosophers of modern times. His 
 first publication on the subject was a small pamphlet in 1772. 
 The next year he communicated an account of his experi- 
 ments to the Royal Society, and received the honor of the 
 gold medal. He mentions in his Memoirs the pleasant cir- 
 cumstance, that the person in Leeds who alone gave him 
 any aid in his experiments was a zealous methodist, Mr. Hey, 
 who had written against him on some theological ques- 
 tions. 
 
 At this time it was proposed to him as a man of science 
 that he should accompany the second expedition of Captain 
 Cook to the South Seas, and he began to make arrangements 
 for the voyage ; but some clergymen in the Board of Longi- 
 tude objected on account of his religious principles, and 
 Dr. Forster received the appointment; — "a person," says 
 
MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTEEY. 
 
 Priestley with a characteristic candor, " far better qualified 
 for the purpose." 
 
 In May, 1773, Dr. Priestley resigned his charge at Leeds. 
 His labors had been various and successful, and evidently 
 conducted on the principle which he lays down in these 
 words : " The greatest ambition of Christian ministers should 
 be to render their respective churches examples to others in 
 regularity of discipline, and in the most effectual modes of 
 instruction adapted to every age, and especially to persons in 
 younger life." In order to effect this end, he had instituted 
 in his own congregation a series of measures, of which his 
 sermon gives a brief occount, and which we quote as furnish- 
 ing a good idea of the manner in which he executed his im- 
 portant functions. 
 
 " Perceiving, upon my first coming among you, that very 
 few, in proportion to the number of the congregation, re- 
 ceived the Lord's Supper, I published " A Free Address " to 
 you upon the subject, calculated, as I thought, to explain 
 the nature of that institution, to answer the objections you 
 might have to the celebration of it, especially those which 
 remained from the ignorance and superstition of the dark 
 ages of Christianity, and to set the advantage and obligation 
 of communicating in a clear and strong light. I have had 
 the satisfaction to find that my endeavours, in this respect, 
 have not been wholly without effect, though by no means so 
 great as I wished, or indeed expected." 
 * # * 
 
 " Being sensible how much is incumbent upon masters of 
 families, and how much is in their power, with respect to 
 the care of their children and servants, in instructing them, 
 attending to their morals, and keeping up the worship of 
 God in their families, I published a plain and earnest Address 
 to you on this subject also, together with short " Forms of 
 Prayer," for all the usual occasions of a family ; and I took 
 what care I could to have it put into the hands of every mas^ 
 
XU MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. 
 
 ter of a family among you. Whether this attempt has had 
 
 any good effect, is known to God and your own consciences." 
 
 * * * 
 
 " The great profligacy of the present age being manifestly 
 owing to a want of moral and religious principles, imbibed 
 in early years, and it being impossible to inculcate these 
 principles with sufficient force and effect by discourses from 
 the pulpit, which are almost necessarily miscellaneous and 
 unconnected, I formed, and have carried into execution, a 
 pretty extensive plan of Religious Instruction, advancing, in a 
 regular progress, from infancy to years of perfect manhood. 
 
 For this purpose I thought it convenient to divide the 
 younger part of my hearers into three classes. The first 
 consisted of children, for whose use I printed a short and 
 very plain Catechism, containing such a view of the princi- 
 ples of religion as, I think, the youngest children that have 
 attained to the use of speech, may be made to understand. 
 The second consisted of young persons more advanced in 
 years, for whom I drew up another Catechism, consisting 
 of a set of questions only, peculiarly calculated, as I think, 
 to bring them very early, and pretty thoroughly acquainted 
 with the Scriptures, the genuine source of all religious knowl- 
 edge. 
 
 The third class consisted of young men, from the age of 
 sixteen or eighteen, to about thirty, for whose use I com- 
 posed a set of Lectures, which I delivered in the way of con- 
 versation, in which I endeavoured to demonstrate to them, 
 in a regular manner, the principles of natural religion, the 
 evidences, and the doctrines of revelation, and which I con- 
 cluded with a view of the corruptions of Christianity, histori- 
 cally deduced. By this means, I am satisfied, from the 
 trial that I have now made of it, that young persons may 
 most easily be brought to understand their religion as Chris- 
 tians, Protestants, and Dissenters. 
 
 The peculiar advantages of this mode of instruction, and 
 
MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. XUl 
 
 a more distinct account of the nature of it, I explained in an 
 " Essay on the best Method of communicating Religious Knowl- 
 edge to the Members of Christian Societies." Part of this 
 Course of Lectures I have already published, under the 
 title of " Institutes of Natural and Revealed Religion," and I 
 intend, God willing, to publish the remainder in due time. 
 
 In part, to avoid obvious inconveniences, and partly for 
 want of a room sufficiently large for the purpose, I confined 
 these lectures, for the first time of reading them, to young 
 men ; but I should have been glad if, at the second time of 
 reading them, I could have contrived to instruct the young 
 women, either at the same time or separately. 
 
 It is with great satisfaction that I can say, with respect to 
 most of the young men of this congregation, that they have 
 given due attendance on these lectures ; and I flatter myself 
 that, by the attention which they gave to them when they 
 were delivered, and which, I hope, they will still continue to 
 give to them when they are printed, they will find their time 
 and pains not ill bestowed. 
 
 With respect to children of the first class, I must own 
 that I had not all the encouragement that I wished, and still 
 less with respect to the second ; owing, perhaps, to the 
 parents not sufficiently entering into the nature of a thing 
 so new to them as this was ; for I am unwilling to suppose 
 that they were averse to taking the pains, which they must, 
 at least at the first, have necessarily done, to prepare their 
 children for this kind of exercise. 
 
 It is acknowledged by all, that the general plan and dis- 
 cipline of our societies has deviated very far indeed from 
 that of the primitive churches, which consisted "of persons 
 whose object it was to watch over and edify one another, 
 and especially that a very unequal part of the burden is 
 now thrown upon the minister ; since he is generally so 
 situated, that he cannot, with the least probability of suc- 
 cess, interpose his advice or admonition where it may be 
 most wanted. I therefore wrote and published an Address 
 
XIV MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. 
 
 to you, and other Christian societies, upon that subject, 
 proposing what appeared to me a better constitution of a 
 Christian church, by means of which the original and pro- 
 per ends of Christian societies might be more effectually 
 answered. 
 
 I am afraid we are gone too far from the primitive insti- 
 tutions of Christianity to expect a revival of them in this 
 age; but I hope that the idea I then endeavoured to give 
 you of the obligation that naturally lies upon every member 
 of a Christian society, who, on any account whatever, has 
 influence in it (without any formal nomination to an office) 
 to contribute all that may be in his power to the real benefit 
 of it, by instruction, reproof, or any other way, will not be 
 wholly without effect; and that you will, in general, be 
 more attentive to the important Christian duty of ' provoking 
 to love and to good works, exhorting one another daily while 
 it is called to-day, lest any be hardened by the deceitfulness 
 of sin.' 
 
 Lastly, perceiving in this neighbourhood, and, in some 
 measure, among yourselves, the progress of what appears to 
 me to be a spurious and mischievous set of notions in reli- 
 gion, inspiring very unworthy ideas of the Divine Being 
 and the maxims of his government, which cannot but have 
 an unfavourable effect upon the disposition of men's minds, 
 and consequently upon their conduct in life ; I published, 
 in the cheapest form that I could, and, in order to give as 
 little offence as possible, without my name, a serious " Appeal 
 to the Professors of Christianity," upon this subject. This, 
 and other small pieces, written in pursuance of the same 
 design, I have had the satisfaction to find, have been the 
 instrument, in the hands of Divine Providence, of enlight- 
 ening the minds of many in the knowledge of what I believe 
 to be his truth, and I hope they will still continue to pro- 
 duce the same effect. 
 
 I was the more willing to publish something of this kind, 
 as it has always been my opinion, and my practice has been 
 
MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. XV 
 
 agreeable to it, to keep all subjects of religious controversy, 
 as much as possible, out of the pulpit ; and yet it was to be 
 wished, that persons of plain understandings, who were dis- 
 posed to read and inquire for themselves, might have an 
 opportunity of seeing the foundation, in ^reason and the 
 Scriptures, of those doctrines which alone can render the 
 Divine Being the object of filial reverence, love, and confi- 
 dence ; and likewise be able to answer those who allege 
 detached passages of Scripture, in favor of long-established 
 corruptions ; passages often ill translated, but more often 
 wretchedly interpreted." 
 
 For some years after leaving Leeds, Dr. Priestley resided 
 with Lord Shelburne, at his very urgent solicitation, as libra- 
 rian and literary companion. With him, in 1774, he made 
 a tour to the continent, and spent a month in Paris, where of 
 course he had ready access to the scientific and philosophic 
 circles of that great city. Here he found, as he anticipated, 
 not a little infidelity. 
 
 " As I was sufficiently apprized of the fact, I did not won- 
 der, as I otherwise should have done, to find all the philo- 
 sophical persons to whom I was introduced at Paris, unbe- 
 lievers in Christianity, and even professed Atheists. As I 
 chose on all occasions to appear as a Christian, I was told by 
 some of them that I was the only person they had ever met 
 with, of whose understanding they had any opinion, who pro- 
 fessed to believe Christianity. But on interrogating them on 
 the subject, I soon found that they had given no proper atten- 
 tion to it, and did not really know what Christianity was. This 
 was also the case with a great part of the company that I saw 
 at Lord Shelburne's. But I hope that my always avowing 
 myself to be a Christian, and holding myself ready on all 
 occasions to defend the genuine principles of it, was not with- 
 out its use. Having conversed so much with unbelievers, at 
 home and abroad, I thought I should be able to combat their 
 prejudices with some advantage, and with this view I wrote, 
 while I was with Lord Shelburne, the first part of my " Let- 
 
XVI MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. 
 
 ters to a Philosophical Unbeliever," in proof of the doctrines 
 of a God and a Providence ; and to this I have added, during 
 my residence at Birmingham, a second part, in defence of the 
 evidences of Christianity. The first part being replied to by 
 a person who called himself Mr. Hammon, 1 wrote a reply to 
 his piece, which has hitherto remained unanswered. I am 
 happy to find that this work of mine has done some good, and 
 I hope that in due time it will do more. I can truly say, 
 that the greatest satisfaction I receive from the success of my 
 philosophical pursuits, arises from the weight it may give to 
 my attempts to defend Christianity, and to free it from those 
 corruptions which prevent its reception with philosophical 
 and thinking persons, whose influence with the vulgar and 
 ths unthinking is very great." 
 
 From Paris he wrote to Mr. Lindsey as follows : 
 " I am quite tired of the idleness in which I spend my time 
 here, and long exceedingly to be about my experiments, or 
 some composition. Upon my journey I have read and studied 
 the Gospels very much, and should like exceedingly to print 
 the Greek text, in the order of a harmony, with my disserta- 
 tions from the " Repository " prefixed. It would certainly add 
 much to the satisfaction of reading the Life of Christ, to have 
 the whole narrative in one continued story, and the variations 
 in separate columns. I will, at least, cut to pieces, and put 
 together, one copy for my own use. In reading over the gos- 
 pel of John, I think I perceive that one of his principal objects 
 was to show what opportunities the Jews had for knowing the 
 divine mission of Christ, and consequently how inexcusable 
 they were in their rejection of him ; and the supposition of 
 this gospel being written after the destruction of Jerusalem, 
 suggests a reason for his having such an object in view. 
 
 The more .attention I give to the study of the Scriptures, the 
 more attached I am to it ; and I hope the time will come when 
 I shall apply myself to it chiefly. At present I read chiefly 
 with a practical view ; and the attentive consideration of the 
 facts in the gospel history has certainly the strongest tendency 
 
MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. XVll 
 
 to impress the heart and influence the life in the most favor- 
 able manner. The more I read the history of the death of 
 Christ, in particular, the more reasons I think I see why he 
 was to sufl^er ; at least I see the old ones in a stronger light 
 and feel more of their force. Other studies, and other pursuits 
 that to many others are very proper and useful, appear to me 
 to be altogether insignificant compared to these. 
 
 I am here in the midst of unbelievers, and even atheists. 
 I had a long conversation with one, an ingenious man, and 
 good writer, who maintained seriously that man might arise, 
 without any Maker, from the earth. They may despise me ; 
 I am sure I despise and pity them." 
 
 About the same time he wrote thus to another friend. 
 " I was more shocked at the superstition of the Catholics 
 than I expected to have been ; but found some of their priests 
 very intelligent and candid, and some of them as truly Chris- 
 tian characters, in all respects, as any sort can boast ; but 
 these, I believe, are few. The generality, I have reason to 
 think, from the inquiries I have made, are either very stupid, 
 or infidels. Their philosophers are almost universally the 
 latter. 
 
 " I had a conversation of two hours with a most ingenious 
 man, and a considerable writer, who maintained that man 
 might have sprung out of the earth by spontaneous genera- 
 tion ; and I was told by another, that I was the first believer 
 in Christianity that he had met with of whose understanding 
 he had any opinion. I always told them very freely, that I 
 could easily account for their infidelity by the very corrupted 
 state of their established religion, farther than which they 
 plainly had not looked ; and that they could not pretend to 
 have studied the subject as myself and other believers in 
 England had done. However, I left them all as I had found 
 them ; and whether they think better or worse of me on that 
 account, I am very indifterent. They could not possibly, 
 however, have shown more respect to any body, than they did 
 to me, especially on account of my Observations on Air, which 
 h 
 
XVIU MEMOIR OP DR. PRIESTLEY. 
 
 have engaged the attention of almost all the philosophers on 
 the continent. 
 
 " I saw a good deal of several of the present leading states- 
 men of France. They are, in general, philosophical people, 
 very honest and economical, friends of commerce and of 
 peace. The king is, on all hands, agreed to have nothing 
 at all in him, and while he is in good hands, all will do well. 
 But there are many persons disaffected, intriguing, lovers of 
 war, and violent enemies of England. If these get into power, 
 which is far from being impossible, we shall certainly have a 
 war, and the economy of the present ministers will have 
 brought the nation into excellent order for it. 
 
 " The present French ministry are great friends of tolera- 
 tion. A person who is very much in their confidence told 
 me, he hoped that in ten years all religions would have a full 
 toleration in France ; but that, I am convinced, will be push- 
 ing things too fast for that country. At present they are mis- 
 erably hampered by the censeurs of the press. The person 
 who has translated my Treatise on Air, could not obtain leave 
 to insert that paragraph in the preface in which I speak of the 
 consequence of the spread of knowledge with respect to reli- 
 gion. A person is translating my Essay on Government ; but 
 he must print it in Holland, and get it into France clandes- 
 tinely. 
 
 " Upon the whole, I thought the country by no means a de- 
 sirable one to live in, or to stay much in, and I wonder much 
 at the taste of my countrymen, who spend so much of their 
 time, and of their money, there." 
 
 Dr. Priestley, in several of his works, recurs to the impres- 
 sions which he received during this visit to Paris; and there 
 can be no doubt that this was one of the circumstances which 
 instigated him to that perpetual warfare against infidelity, 
 and that earnest, never-ceasing defence of Christianhy, by 
 which his career was distinguished. 
 
 On his return from Paris, he took up his abode at Calne, 
 Wiltshire, in the neighbourhood of which place was the resi- 
 
MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. XIX 
 
 dence of Lord Shelburne. Here he spent the summer seasons 
 of the year, and in winter accompanied his lordship to Lon- 
 don. This mode of life continued for about six years ; dur- 
 ing which time he continued his philosophical experiments 
 and theological inquiries, and published frequently on various 
 subjects. While at Leeds he had become satisfied that the 
 Arian doctrine was untenable and had adopted the Humani- 
 tarian ; he now engaged in studies relative to the nature of 
 man, and came to the persuasion that " man is wholly mate- 
 rial, and that the only prospect of immortality is from the 
 Christian doctrine of a Resurrection." The publication of 
 these opinions increased the odium with which he was re- 
 garded, and he was represented as an unbeliever in revela- 
 tion, and no better than an atheist. The question of mate- 
 rialism was made the subject of an amicable controversy be- 
 tween himself and his friend Dr. Price, " and remains a 
 proof of the possibility of discussing subjects mutually consid- 
 ered as of the greatest importance, with the most perfect 
 good temper and without the least diminution of friendship." 
 About this time, also, he carried on a discussion in an equally 
 friendly tone with Dr. Newcome, afterwards archbishop, on 
 the duration of our Saviour's ministry. 
 
 On relinquishing his situation with Lord Shelburne, in 
 1780 (who settled on him an annuity for life of one hundred 
 and fifty pounds). Dr. Priestley took up his abode at Bir- 
 mingham. He selected this place because of the facility it 
 afforded him in his philosophical inquiries by furnishing the 
 best workmen of every kind, and because of the distinguished 
 chemists whose society he could there enjoy. There, too, 
 he found a select and valuable religious circle, with whom 
 he met statedly once a fortnight, and with whose aid he re- 
 commenced the publication of the "Theological Repository." 
 But he could not long continue a private man. He soon 
 received an urgent invitation to become minister of the New 
 Meeting, as colleague with Mr. Blythe ; an invitation which 
 he accepted, with the understanding that Mr. Blythe should 
 
XX MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. 
 
 perform the duties of the pastoral care, while he himself should 
 be limited to those of the pulpit and the instruction of the 
 young. This last was now, as it had been at Leeds, a favor- 
 ite object with him, and he gave much time to reduce it to a 
 thorough and effective system. Few men perhaps have been 
 more successful than he in conducting this part of duty, or 
 have received warmer and more lasting expressions of gratitude 
 from those whom he thus benefited. In a letter of Mr. Lind- 
 sey, during a visit to Birmingham in 1783, he says — "I 
 was surprised on the Sunday afternoon, in going into the 
 meeting for my hat, to see near thirty young ladies, some of 
 them, I was told, married, seated, to be instructed in the 
 principles of Christianity. This was the third class that had 
 been before him that day ; and this is his usual work every 
 Sunday, added to his officiating to the whole congregation 
 one part of it." 
 
 Another measure in which he interested himself for the 
 advantage of the congregation was an attempt to revive some 
 system of church discipline among them. He was strongly 
 persuaded that great injury had resulted to the Dis.senters, 
 and to the cause of religion among them, from their negli- 
 gence in this particular ; and had some time before set forth 
 his views in an Essay on Church Discipline. He now urged 
 the subject on the attention of his congregation in a sermon, 
 which was published at their request, and the suggestions of 
 which he had the satisfaction of finding readily adopted. 
 
 This period of his ministry in Birmingham was marked 
 by the same industrious habits of study which had distin- 
 guished the preceding portions of his life. Among the most 
 important of his works were the " History of the Corruptions 
 of Christianity," and the " Hi.story of Early Opinions re- 
 specting Jesus Christ ; " works which gave rise to that cele- 
 brated controversy in which Dr. Horsley was particularly 
 notorious. This period was likewise distinguished by numer- 
 ous publications on the Evidences of Christianity, and by an 
 annual pamphlet entitled " Defences of Unitarianism ; " hav- 
 
MEMOIR OF 0R, PRIESTLEY. XXI 
 
 ing for its object to examine and reply to whatever had been 
 written against Unitarianism during the preceding year. So 
 much activity and perseverance on his part tended to excite 
 the severe displeasure of his theological opponents, especially 
 of those who were connected with the established church ; 
 and he was attacked and answered in the most virulent style 
 of party denunciation. Dr. Horsley especially, and two cler- 
 gymen of Birmingham, Mr. Madan and Mr. Burn*, gained a 
 sad preeminence by the abusiveness of their manner, and did 
 their full share toward exasperating the public mind, and 
 bringing on the catastrophe which followed. 
 
 The state of the times was peculiar, full of causes of con- 
 vulsion and peril. The French Revolution was breaking out, 
 and the whole English community was agitated by sympathy 
 and alarm. Priestley, with his friends, took side with those 
 who saw every thing to hope from this political movement, 
 and thus made himself obnoxious to the party in power, who 
 saw every thing to fear and abhor. At the same time the 
 Dissenters were strenuously exerting themselves to extort 
 from Parliament an acknowledgment of their rights and a 
 restoration to perfect religious liberty ; and here, too, Priest- 
 ley made himself obnoxious to those in power, who saw noth- 
 ing in the acknowledgment of these claims, but the ruin of 
 the church and the overthrow of Christianity. Upon these 
 subjects Priestley published very little ; but that little attract- 
 ed great attention from the eminence of the man, and was 
 offensive from the plain and unguarded style of remark which 
 
 * At a public meeting in 1825, Mr. Burn took occasion to recur to 
 his share in these controversies. He said, " that had ho to live his 
 past life over again, he should have to correct the asperity of feelings 
 and expressions which it was his misfortune to have used in his con- 
 troversies with a late respectable and highly talented individual (Dr. P.) 
 Whatever degree of error there might have been in that procedure, h« 
 begged to say that it did not arise from any disrespect to that highly 
 respected individual, but from what he then considered to be his 
 duty." 
 
XXU MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. 
 
 was characteristic of him. Passages were unfairly quoted 
 and commented on in the House of Commons, and pains 
 taken to convince the people everywhere that he, with other 
 Dissenters, was engaged in a plot for the destruction of the 
 church and the establishment of republican government. It 
 consequently became a favorite toast of the day, " Damnation 
 and confusion to the Presbyterians." To fan the flame yet 
 more, falsehoods of the most atrocious character respecting 
 him were published and circulated, and caricature prints 
 were scattered abroad to help persuade the multitude that he 
 was an atheist. One of these was entitled. Sedition and Athe- 
 ism defeated. Silas Deane is represented on his death-bed. 
 A clergyman stands by him, holding up his hands and ex- 
 claiming, " No God ! Avho taught you that doctrine ? " The 
 dying man replies, " Dr. Priestley." A note is annexed to 
 the print, saying, " The particulars of this awful and inter- 
 esting conversion to atheism may be seen in a pamphlet en- 
 titled Theodosius, and sold with or without the print." This 
 pamphlet was industriously circulated, and Dr. Priestley was 
 obliged to publish a formal refutation of the unprincipled 
 slander. 
 
 In a ballad written and sung against the Dissenters at 
 this time, was the following stanza. 
 
 " Sedition is their creed ; 
 
 Feigned sheep, but wolves indeed, 
 
 How can we trust .■' 
 Gunpowder Priestley would 
 Deluge the throne with blood, 
 And lay the great and good 
 Low in the dust." 
 
 " Dr. Priestley," said one of the pamphlets printed at this 
 time, " seems a chaos in miniature, not worth God's notice, 
 has neither belief nor understanding given him. For a 
 careful analysis proves his spirit of the order of rebelling 
 angels, his principles frothy and fiery, like fixed and inflam- 
 mable air, mixed with gunpowder, his body a terra damnata, 
 
MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. XXlll 
 
 and the whole compound a devil incarnate." The clergy 
 lent themselves eagerly to this work. It was continually 
 sounded from their pulpits in Birmingham and in other pla- 
 ces, that he was a declared enemy to revelation and a setter 
 up of reason in its stead ; that he had publicly said, he would 
 never rest till he had pulled down that impostor Jesus Christ ; 
 and a preacher in Bristol even reported from the pulpit, that 
 he had said he would rather be damned than be saved by 
 Jesus Christ. By such means was the public mind poisoned 
 and inflamed. The passions of the vulgar were worked up 
 to the proper pitch. On the walls of the houses, along the 
 streets, were written in large characters, Bladan for ever, 
 damn Priestley, no Presbyterians, damn the Presbyterians ; 
 and even the boys, leaving their play as he passed by, once 
 followed him shouting Damn Priestley, damn him, damn 
 him, for ever, for ever, for ever. It had thus become evident 
 that only a fit occasion was wanting, and the populace would 
 be found prepared for any act of violence that might be de- 
 sired at their hands. Such an occasion arose. 
 
 It was proposed by the friends of the Frencli Revolution 
 in Birmingham to celebrate that great event by a public din- 
 ner, on the 14th of July, 1791. This was the occasion seized 
 upon for unchaining the fury of the party mob. It was un- 
 derstood and spoken of in London beforehand. A clergyman 
 at Worcester said " it was brewing," the day before it hap- 
 pened. When the day came, between eighty and ninety 
 gentlemen dined, as they had proposed, at the hotel. 
 
 " When the company met," says Dr. Priestley, in his own 
 account, " a crowd was assembled at the door, and some of 
 them hissed, and showed other marks of disapprobation, but 
 no material violence was offered to any body. Mr. Keir, a 
 member of the church of England, took the chair ; and when 
 they had dined, drank the toasts, and sung the songs which 
 had been prepared for the occasion, they dispersed. This 
 was about five o'clock, and the town remained quiet till about 
 eight. It was evident, therefore, that the dinner was not the 
 
XXIV MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. 
 
 proper cause of the riot which followed : but that the mischief 
 had been pre-concerted, and that this particular opportunity 
 was laid hold of for the purpose. 
 
 Some days before this meeting, a few copies of a printed 
 hand-bill of an inflammatory nature had been found in a 
 public-house in the town, and of this, great use was made to 
 inflame the minds of the people against the Dissenters, to 
 whom, though without any evidence whatever, it was confi- 
 dently ascribed. The thing itself did not deserve any notice, 
 and paragraphs of as seditious a nature frequently appear in 
 the public newspapers and other publications,'and (as would, 
 no doubt, have been the case with this) are neglected and for- 
 gotten. But the magistrates of Birmingham, and other known 
 enemies to the Dissenters, were loud in their exclamations 
 against it, though perhaps fabricated for the use that was 
 made of it ; and a copy was ofiiciously sent to the secretaries 
 of state, who ordered a strict inquiry to be made, after the 
 author, printer, or distributor ; and in consequence of this, a 
 reward of a hundred pounds was offered for the discovery of 
 any of them. 
 
 In consequence of all this preparation, we were informed 
 that, though the trade of Birmingham had never been more 
 brisk, so that hands could not be found to manufacture the 
 goods that were ordered, many of the public-houses were that 
 day full of people, whose horrid execrations against the Dis- 
 senters were heard into the streets ; and it has been asserted, 
 that some of the master manufacturers had shut up their work 
 shop, and thereby left their men at full liberty for any mis- 
 chief 
 
 It has since appeared, that besides the dinner at the hotel, 
 there were also meetings of the opposite party on this 14th of 
 July ; some of whom had distributed copies of a letter signed 
 by Dr. Tatham. This seemed to increase the animosity of 
 the lower class of people, with whom the common alehouses 
 were filled. Some of these meetings did not rise from their 
 entertainment so early, or with so much sobriety, as those who 
 
MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. XXV 
 
 dined at the hotel ; and it was at the breaking up of their 
 companies that the riots commenced. Let the impartial, 
 then, judge to which of the dinners the riot that followed is to 
 be ascribed. 
 
 Mr. Adam Walker, the ingenious and well-known lecturer 
 in Natural Philosophy, was passing through the town with his 
 wife and family, and dined with me at my own house, for the 
 last time, on that day. Before dinner, I had walked to the 
 town with him, and they left me in the evening. Some time 
 after this, three of my intimate friends, whose houses were 
 situated near the same road, and farther from the town than 
 mine, called upon me to congratulate me, and one another, 
 on the dinner having passed over so well ; and after chatting 
 cheerfully some time on the subject, they left me just as it 
 was beginning to be dark. 
 
 After supper, when I was preparing to amuse myself, as 
 I sometime"S did, with a game of backgammon, we were 
 alarmed by some young men rapping violently at the door ; and 
 when they Avere admitted, they appeared to be almost breath- 
 less with running. They said that a great mob had assem- 
 bled at the hotel, where the company had dined ; that after 
 breaking the windows there, they were gone to the New 
 Meeting and were demolishing the pulpit and the pews, and 
 that they threatened me and my house. That they should 
 think of molesting me, I thought so improbable, that I could 
 hardly give any credit to the story. However, imagining 
 that perhaps some of the mob might come to insult me, I was 
 prevailed upon to leave the house, and meant to go to some 
 neighbour's at a greater distance from the town ; but having 
 no apprehension for the house itself, or any thing in it, I only 
 went up stairs, and put some papers and other things of value, 
 where I thought that any persons getting into the house would 
 not easily find them. My wife did the same with some things 
 of hers. I then bade the servants keep the doors fastened ; 
 if any body should come, to say that I was gone, and if any 
 stones should be thrown at the windows, to keep themselves 
 
XXVI MEMOIR OP DR. PRIESTLEY. 
 
 out of danger, and that I did not doubt but they would go 
 away again. 
 
 At this time, which was about half-past nine o'clock, Mr. 
 S. Ryland, a friend of mine, came with a chaise, telling us 
 there was no time to lose, but that we must immediately get 
 into it and drive off. Accordingly, we got in with nothing 
 more than the clothes we happened to have on, and drove from 
 the house. But hearing that the mob consisted only of people 
 on foot, and concluding that when they found I was gone 
 off in a chaise, they could not tell whither, they would never 
 think of pursuing me, we went no farther than Mr. Russell's, 
 a mile on the same road, and there we continued several 
 hours, Mr. Russell himself, and other persons, being upon the 
 road on horseback to get intelligence of what was passing. 
 I also more than once walked about halfway back to my own 
 house for the same purpose ; and then I saw the fires from 
 the two meeting-houses, which were burning down. 
 
 About twelve we were told that some hundreds of the mob 
 were breaking into my house, and that when they had de- 
 molished it they would certainly proceed to Mr. Russell's. 
 We were persuaded, therefore, to get into the chaise again, 
 and drive off; but we went no farther than Mr. Thomas 
 Hawkes's, on Moseley-Green, which is not more than half a 
 mile farther from the town, and there we waited all the night. 
 
 It being remarkably calm, and clear moonlight, we could 
 see to a considerable distance, and being upon a rising ground, 
 we distinctly heard all that passed at the house, every shout 
 of the mob, and almost every stroke of the instruments they 
 had provided for breaking the doors and the furniture. For 
 they could not get any fire, though one of them was heard to 
 offer two guineas for a lighted candle ; my son, whom we 
 left behind us, having taken the precaution to put out all the 
 fires in the house, and others of my friends got all the neigh- 
 bours to do the same. I afterwards heard that much pains 
 was taken, but without effect, to get fire from my large elec- 
 trical machine, which stood in the library. 
 
MEMOIR OP DR. PRIESTLEY. XXVU 
 
 About three o'clock in the morning, the noises ceased ; and 
 Mr. Russell and my son coming to us, said that the mob was 
 almost dispersed, that not more than twenty of them remain- 
 ed, and those so much intoxicated, that they might easily be 
 taken. We, therefore, returned with him, and about four 
 o'clock were going to bed at his house. But when I was un- 
 dressing myself for that purpose, news came that there was a 
 fresh accession of some hundreds more to the mob, and that 
 they were advancing towards Mr. Russell's. On this we got 
 into the chaise once more, and driving through a part of the 
 town distant from the mob, we went to Dudley, and thence 
 to my son-in-law's, Mr. Finch, at Heath-Forge, five miles 
 farther, where we arrived before breakfast, and brought the 
 first news of our disaster. 
 
 Here I thought myself perfectly safe, and imagining that 
 when the mischief was over (and I had no idea of its going 
 beyond my own house), and supposing that, as the people 
 in general would be ashamed and concerned at what had 
 happened, I might return ; thinking also that the area within 
 the walls of the meeting-house might soon be cleared, I 
 intended, if the weather would permit, to preach there the 
 Sunday following, and from this text — " Father, forgive 
 them, for they know not what they do." 
 
 At noon, however, we had an express from Stourbridge, 
 to acquaint us that the mob had traced me to Dudley, and 
 would pursue me to Heati<. To this I paid no attention, nor 
 to another fi-om Dudley in the evening to inform us of the 
 same thing ; and being in want of sleep, I went to bed soon 
 after ten. But at eleven I was awaked, and told that a third 
 express was just arrived from Dudley, to assure us that some 
 persons were certainly in pursuit of me, and would be there 
 that night. All the family believing this and urging me to 
 , make my escape, I dressed myself, got on horseback, and 
 with a servent rode to Bridgenorth, where I arrived about two 
 in the morning. 
 
 After about two hours' sleep in this place, I got into a 
 
XXVIH MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. 
 
 chaise, and went to Kidderminster, on my way to London. 
 Here I found myself among my friends, and, as I thought, 
 far enough from the scene of danger, especially as we con- 
 tinually heard news from Birmingham, and that the mischief 
 did not extend beyond the town. Hearing, particularly, that 
 all was quiet at Dudley, I concluded that there could be no 
 real cause of apprehension at Heath; and, being unwilling 
 to go farther than was necessary, I took a horse, and arrived 
 there in the evening. 
 
 There, however, I found the family in great consternation 
 at the sight of me ; and Mr. Finch just arriving from Dudley, 
 and saying that they were in momentary expectation of a riot 
 there, that the populace were even assembled in the street, 
 and were heard to threaten the meeting-house, the house of 
 the minister, and those of other principal Dissenters, and that 
 all attempts to make them disperse had been in vain, — I 
 mounted my horse again, though much fatigued, and greatly 
 wanting sleep. 
 
 My intention was, to get to an inn about six miles on the 
 road to Kidderminster, where I might get a chaise, and in it 
 proceed to that town. No chaise, however, was to be had ; so 
 that I was under the necessity of proceeding on horseback, 
 and neither the servant nor myself distinguishing the road in 
 the night, we lost our way, and at break of day found ourselves 
 on Bridgenorth race-ground, having ridden nineteen miles, till 
 we could hardly sit our horses. 
 
 Arriving at this place a second time, about three o'clock 
 in the morning, we with some difficulty roused the people at 
 an indifferent inn, and I immediately got into bed, and slept 
 a few hours. After breakfast, we mounted our horses, and I 
 got a second time to Kidderminster. There, finding that if I 
 immediately took a chaise, and drove fast, I might get to 
 Worcester time enough for the mail-coach, I did so ; and 
 meeting with a young man of my own congregation, he ac- 
 companied me thither ; which was a great satisfaction to me, 
 as he acquainted me with many particulars of the riot of which 
 
MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. XXIX 
 
 I was before ignorant. At Worcester I was just time enough 
 for the coach, and fortunately, there was one place vacant. 
 I took it, and, travelling all night, I got to London on Monday 
 morning, July 18. 
 
 Here I was in a place of safety, and had leisure for rest 
 and reflection. I can truly say, however, that in all the 
 hurry of my flight, and while the injuries I had received were 
 fresh upon my mind, I had not one desponding or unbenevo- 
 lent thought. I really pitied the delusion of the poor incen- 
 diaries, and the infatuation of those who had deluded them, 
 and never doubted but that, though I could not tell how or 
 when, good would arise from this, as well as from every other 
 evil. The magnanimity of my wife was never shaken ; and, 
 as at other times, she then felt more for others than she did 
 for herself It was a distressing circumstance, that our daugh- 
 ter was expecting to be brought to bed in about a month, so 
 that she was full of alarm, and her mother could not leave 
 her to accompany me. We were, however, as happy as we 
 could be in this state of forced separation ; I with my old 
 friends in London, and she either with our daughter, or with 
 one of the most friendly, generous, and worthy families in 
 the world, the neighbourhood of Birmingham." 
 
 " In this situation, what I regretted most was the loss, as 
 I then supposed, of all my manuscript papers,* for which 
 no reparation could be made. — Let any man of letters, ar- 
 
 * They consisted of the following particulars : 
 
 I. My "Diaries " from the year 1/52, containing the particulars of 
 almost every day ; and at the beginning of each of them I had given 
 the state of my mind, of my afi'airs in general, and of my prospects, 
 for that year; which it was often amusing, and also instructive to me, 
 to look back upon. 
 
 II. Several large "' Common-place Books," containing the fruits of 
 my reading almost ever since I could read WTtli any degree of judg- 
 ment. 
 
 III. The " Register of my Philosophical Experiments, and Hints for 
 new ones." 
 
 IV All my Sermons, Prayers, and Forms for administering the 
 
XXX MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. 
 
 Ik 
 
 rived, as I am, to near the age of sixty, consider what must 
 have been my accumulation of curious papers of various 
 kinds, from the variety and extent of my pursuits, (greater, 
 unquestionably, than those of most men now living,) and 
 think what I could not but have felt for their loss, and their 
 dispersion into such hands as they fell into, and who make. 
 
 Lord's Supper, &c., many of which I had, with great expense, got 
 transcribed into !i fair long hand. 
 
 V. " Notes and a Paraphrase on the whole of the New Testament, 
 excepting the Book of Revelation." The whole of it had been deliv- 
 ered from the pulpit, and in a preface to another work, I had prom- 
 ised to publish it. I was within five days (employing my amanuensis 
 three hours a-day) of having the whole fairly transcribed for the press. 
 I had also " Notes on all the Psalms," which I had delivered from the 
 pulpit. 
 
 VI. " A New Translation of the Psalms, Proverbs, and Ecclcsias- 
 tes ; " having undertaken, in conjunction with several other Unitari- 
 ans, to make a new translation of both the Old and New Testa- 
 ment. 
 
 VII. " A Series of Letters to the Members of the New Jerusalem 
 Church," which was lately opened in Birmingham. These were fairly 
 transcribed, and were to have gone to the press the Monday follow- 
 ing ; and being on the most friendly terms with the minister and prin- 
 cipal members of that church, I had made an appointment to meet them 
 on the preceding Friday, to read the work to them from the manu- 
 script, in order to be satisfied that I had not misstated any of their 
 doctrines, and that I might hear their objections to what I had written. 
 A rough draft of a great part of these " Letters " happened to be pre- 
 served, in consequence of taking a copy of them by Messrs. Boulton 
 and Watt's machine, and from this I have lately published them. 
 
 VIIL "Memoirs of my own Life, to be published after my death." 
 
 IX. A great number of Letters from my friends and learned for- 
 eigners, with other papers. 
 
 X. A short account of all the persons whose names are introduced 
 into my " Chart of Biography," which I intended to publish, though 
 not very soon. 
 
 XL " Illustrations of Hartley's Doctrine of Association of Ideas, an d 
 farther Observations on the Human Mind," the publication of which 
 I had promised in the Preface to my " Essay on Education." This 
 would, perhaps, have been the most original, and nearly the last of 
 
MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. XXXI 
 
 as I hear, the most indecent and improper use of them. This 
 makes the case much worse than that of mere plunder, and 
 the destruction of books and papers by Goths and Vandals, 
 who could not read any of them. It was, however, no small 
 satisfaction to me, to think that my enemies, having the 
 freest access to every paper I had, might be convinced that I 
 had carried on no treasonable correspondence, and that I 
 had nothing to be concerned about besides the effects of their 
 impertinent curiosity. 
 
 The destruction of my library did not affect me so much 
 on account of the money I had expended upon it, as the 
 choice of the books ; having had particular objects of study, 
 and having collected them with great care, as opportunity 
 served, in the course of many years. It had also been my 
 custom to read almost every book with a pencil in my hand, 
 marking the passages that I wished to look back to, and of 
 which I proposed to make any particular use ; and I fre- 
 quently made an index to such passages on a blank leaf at 
 the end of the book. In consequence of this, other sets of 
 the same work would not, by any means, be of the same value 
 to me ; for I have not only lost the books, but the chief fruit 
 of my labor and judgment in reading them. 
 
 Also my laboratory not only contained a set of the most 
 valuable and useful instruments of every kind, and original 
 substances for experiments, but other substances, the results 
 
 my publications. The hints and loose materials for it were written 
 in several volumes, not one scrap of which is yet recovered. 
 
 XII. Besides these, I had what had cost me much labor, though, as I 
 did not mean to make any public use of them, I do not much regret their 
 loss, viz. a large course of " Lectures on the Constitution and Laws of 
 England," and another on " The History of England," which I had 
 read when I was tutor at WaiTington, and of which a syllabus may be 
 seen in the former editions of my "Essay on Education." [1765.] In 
 the same class of manuscripts, not much to be regretted, I place a 
 great variety of miscellaneous juvenile compositions and collections, 
 of which I occasionally made some, though not much, use. 
 
 XIII. My " Last Will, Receipts, and Accounts." 
 
XXXii MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. 
 
 of numerous processes, reserved for farther experiments, aa 
 every experienced chemist will suppose ; and these cannot 
 be replaced without repeating the process of many years. 
 No money can repair damages of this kind. Also several 
 of my instruments were either wholly or in part of my own 
 construction, and such as cannot be purchased any 
 where." 
 
 " One of the most mortifying circumstances in this calamity, 
 was the dispersion of a great number of letters from my pri- 
 vate friends, from the earliest period of my correspondence, 
 into the hands of persons wholly destitute of generosity or 
 honor. These letters I had carefully arranged, so that I 
 could immediately turn to any of them, when I wished to 
 look back to them, as a memorial of former friendships, or for 
 any otlier purpose. But they were kept in a box which was 
 ordered by my last will to be burned without inspection. 
 Now, however, letters which I did not wish even my execu- 
 tors to see, were exposed, without mercy or shame, to all the 
 world. No person of honor will even look into a letter not 
 directed to himself But mine have not only been exposed 
 to every curious, impertinent eye, but, as I am informed, are 
 eao-erly perused, commented upon, and their sense perverted, 
 in order to find out something against me. 
 
 Some of my private papers are said to have been sent to 
 the secretary of state. But secretaries of state, I presume, a^;e 
 ii-entlemcn, and consider themselves as bound by the same 
 rules of justice and honor that are acknowledged to bind 
 other men, and therefore, if this be the case, these papers will 
 certainly be returned to me. 
 
 Of this kind of ill usage, I do not accuse the illiterate 
 mob who made the devastation ; for few of them, I suppose, 
 could read ; but those persons of better education into whose 
 hands the papers afterwards came. Had persons of this class 
 interposed and exerted themselves, they might, no doubt, 
 have saved the greatest part of this, to me most valuable prop- 
 erty, for the loss of which (but more especially for the un- 
 
MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. XXXlll 
 
 generous use that was made of it) no compensation can be 
 made me." 
 
 " That the true source of the late riots in Birmingham was 
 religious bigotry, and the animosity of the high-church party 
 against the Dissenters, and especially against the Presbyte- 
 rians and Unitarians, and not the commemoration of the 
 French Revolution, is evident from all that has passed before, 
 at, and after the day. 
 
 In the public-houses where the people were inflaming 
 themselves with liquor all that day and some time before, 
 there were heard execrations of the most horrid kind against 
 the Presbyterians. One person was heard not only to wish 
 damnation to them, but that " God Almighty would make a 
 week's holiday for the purpose of damning them." The mob 
 did not arrive at the hotel till more than two hours after the 
 company had left it, and there they demanded only myself, 
 who had not been there. No part of their vengeance fell 
 upon any churchman, whether at the dinner or not. After 
 demolishing the two meeting-houses, and every thing belong- 
 ing to me, their next objects were the houses of Mr. Taylor 
 and Mr. John Ryland, who were well known to have been 
 much averse to the scheme of the dinner ; and durino- the 
 whole course of the outrages, the constant cry was Church 
 AND King, and Down with the Presbyterians. 
 
 That the celebration of the French Revolution was not 
 the true cause of the riots, has indeed sufficiently appeared 
 from the narrative part of this work. That the plan was laid 
 some time before, and that proper persons were provided to 
 conduct it, is probable from this circumstance, that those in 
 the mob who directed the rest (who were evidently not of the 
 lowest class, and who were sometimes called their leaders), 
 were not known to hundreds of all descriptions of the inhab- 
 itants of the town, who observed them attentively ; so that 
 persons who were no Dissenters, concluded that they came 
 from a distance, and probably from London. The proper 
 Birmingham mob were often persuaded to desist from their 
 
XXXIV MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. 
 
 attempts, till they were joined by these men, who both insti- 
 gated them to mischief and directed them how to proceed in 
 the shortest and most effectual manner." 
 
 " The exultation of the high-church party, not only in Bir- 
 mingham, but through the kingdom in general, on the suc- 
 cess of this crusade, was undisguised and boundless. All 
 the newspapers both in town and country, in the conduct of 
 which they had particular influence, were full of the grossest 
 abuse of the Dissenters, and especially of myself, and such 
 narratives of the proceedings were published as cannot be 
 accounted for from mistake or misapprehension, but must 
 have been wilfully fabricated for the worst of purposes. 
 
 There were many of the high-church party who did not 
 hesitate to say that, if the mischief had terminated with the 
 destruction of my house, and every thing belonging to me, 
 all had been well. Some openly lamented that the mob had 
 not seized me, or that I had not perished in the conflagra- 
 tion. One clergyman in a public assize sermon called our 
 sufferings wholesome correction ; and another declared that, if 
 all my writings were put together, and myself were placed 
 on the top of them, he should rejoice to set fire to the pile. 
 
 Many of the high-church party were so for from lamenting 
 my sufferings, or complaining of the illegal manner in which 
 the mischief was done, that they scrupled not to justify it, 
 on the pretence, though absolutely groundless, that my writ- 
 ings were hostile to the state ; if not directly, yet indirectly 
 so, as being hostile to the church." 
 
 " But though many of the clergy expressed the most ran- 
 corous sentiments against us, there have appeared on this 
 occasion among them men of the most liberal minds and 
 principles, who expressed the greatest abhorrence of the con- 
 duct and sentiments of the rest of their body, and who, 
 together with some generous-minded laity of the Establish- 
 ment, were among the first to afford me the most substantial 
 assistance." 
 
MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. XXXV 
 
 The following letters written at this time are interesting, 
 as helping to display the character of the occasion and of the 
 man. 
 
 "To Rev. T. Lindsey. 
 
 Dudley, July 15, 1791 . 
 Dear Friend, 
 
 When I wrote my last, little did I foresee what soon after 
 happened ; but the will of God be done. 
 
 The company were hardly gone from the inn, before a 
 drunken mob rushed into the house, and broke all the win- 
 dows. They then set fire to our meeting-house, and it is 
 burned to the ground. After that they gutted, and some 
 say burned, the old meeting. 
 
 In the mean time, some friends came to tell me that I and 
 my house were threatened, and another brought a chaise to 
 convey me and my wife away. I had not presence of mind 
 to take even my MSS. ; and after we were gone, the mob 
 came and demolished every thing, household goods, library, 
 and apparatus. Indeed, they say the house itself is almost 
 demolished, but happily no fire could be got, so that many 
 things, but I know not what, will be saved. 
 
 We thought that when it was day, the mob would disperse, 
 and therefore we kept in the neighbourhood ; but finding 
 they rather increased, and grew more outrageous with liquor, 
 we were advised to go off", and are now on our way to Heath. 
 
 My wife behaves with wonderful courage. The recollec- 
 tion of my lost MSS. pains me the most, especially my Notes 
 on the New Testament, which I wanted only five days of get- 
 ting all transcribed. But, I doubt not, all will be for good in 
 the end. I can hardly ever live at Birmingham again. 
 
 In great haste, with my wife's best respects, yours and Mrs. 
 Lindsey's most affectionately. 
 
 I am impatient to hear from you and my son at Manches- 
 ter. We left William safe, though he had been in the mob." 
 
XXXVl MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. 
 
 " To Mr. Russell. 
 
 London, July 29, 1791. 
 Dear Sir, 
 I AM willing to hope, from the account of Mr. Lewis and 
 others, that your inquiry goes on pretty well, though not so 
 well as you once expected. Every thing I find, as I expected, 
 depends upon yourself, and I much fear your health will suffer 
 by your constant exertions. I hope, however, you are ap- 
 prised of this, and that you are not insensible how much de- 
 pends upon your valuable life. May God preserve you, and 
 give a happy termination to this affair. 
 
 On Wednesday I dined with Mr. Sheridan, in order, as he 
 said, to meet Mr. Fox, who, however, was not there, but de- 
 sired Mr. Sheridan to tell me that he was ready to take the 
 matter up in the House of Commons in whatever manner we 
 should think proper. They conceive that the encouragement 
 oriven by the court to the high-church party was intended to 
 crush Mr. Fox, and those who took our part, and to intimi- 
 date both them and us. I cannot, however, think that there 
 is much in this, and I am very unwilling to connect our 
 cause with that of any political party, as, upon the face of it, 
 it is evidently of a purely religious nature. I therefore differ 
 from most of our friends here, and wish, with you, to show 
 no distrust of government, since our end will be answered, 
 whether they appear in earnest to redress our grievances or 
 not. Our tribunal is our country and the world ; and before 
 this our court, as well as ourselves, must appear, and we can- 
 not doubt an equitable decision. 
 
 The same bad spirit pervades the whole kingdom, though 
 the storm was, I doubt not, directed to break out here. Had 
 Dr. Price been living, it is taken for granted that Hackney 
 would have suffered as much as Birmingham, and that the 
 College would not have been spared. Mr. Walker's letter, 
 which I enclose, and which I wish you to preserve, will show 
 
MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. XXXVU 
 
 you the spirit that prevails at Manchester, and we have simi- 
 lar accounts from all the west of England. It is, indeed, an 
 alarming crisis that things are come to. But we cannot 
 doubt that a wise and good Providence superintends and 
 directs the whole. I long to be with you on many accounts. 
 Mr. Keir thinks it had better be soon than later. It may, 
 however, be, advisable to defer it, till the legal inquiry be 
 over. 
 
 With my earnest prayers and best wishes, and with re- 
 spects to all my friends, especially my fellow-sufferers, I am, 
 dear Sir, yours sincerely." 
 
 No reflection need be made on this disgraceful history ex- 
 cepting in the words of Robert Hall, who says, that " to the 
 unenlightened eyes of posterity it will appear a reproach, that 
 in the eighteenth century, an age that boasts its science and 
 improvement, — the first Philosopher in Europe, of a charac- 
 ter unblemished and of manners the most mild and gentle, 
 should be torn from his family, and obliged to flee an outcast 
 and a fugitive from the murderous hands of a frantic rabble ; 
 — but when they learn that there were not wanting teachers 
 of religion who secretly triumphed in these barbarities, they 
 will pause for a moment and imagine that they are reading 
 the history of Goths or of Vandals." 
 
 But there were every where some to be found to sympathize 
 with the sufferer, and addresses of condolence and respect 
 were made to him from public bodies, religious, political, 
 and scientific, both in England and in France. Of all these, 
 none, he says, gave him so much satisfaction as those from 
 his late congregation, and especially from the young persons 
 belonging to it who had attended his classes for religious 
 instruction. His whole correspondence with them is de- 
 lightful and affecting. The following extract of the second 
 letter from the young people is a specimen. 
 
XXXVlll MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. 
 
 " From the Young People of the New Meeting. 
 
 Birmingham, August 22, 1791. 
 Dear and respected Sir, 
 
 Permit us to indulge our feelings in again addressing you. 
 
 When assurances of gratitude and attachment are not 
 necessary, there is a gratification in expressing the prevail- 
 ing sentiments of the heart; and when you, Sir, are the 
 object, we feel no common ardor. We have too much con- 
 fidence in your goodness, and have had too many proofs of 
 your affectionate regard to our happiness, to imagine you will 
 think us troublesome. 
 
 We have received your affectionate and animating letter. 
 Our tears spoke our feelings. We cannot express them. Lan- 
 guage is feeble and inadequate. But we will bind your in- 
 structions to our hearts. While we remember whose pupils 
 we have been, we cannot act unworthily. We can never 
 sufficiently express our sense of the obligation you have con- 
 ferred upon us, but we dwell upon the subject with too much 
 pleasure to omit any opportunity of renewing it. To you, Sir, 
 we are indebted for the desire of improvement. You have 
 given us habits of employing our leisure hours in the cultiva- 
 tion of our understandings, in pursuits that afford delight and 
 advantage, and which are calculated to raise us higher in the 
 scale of being. The love of virtue you have implanted in 
 us by precept and example. We will guard and cherish it ; 
 and while we enjoy the fruits of it, our souls exulting shall 
 bless you. You have deprived adversity of its sting, and have 
 enabled us to extend our views with satisfaction beyond the 
 world, by impressing our minds with the strongest evidence of 
 the great truths of Christianity. These advantages, Sir, we 
 have received from you. We feel their importance, and will 
 diffuse them as far as our influence extends. It shall be our 
 grand object to endeavour to follow your example in a firm 
 adherence to what we believe to be the cause of truth, in pre- 
 serving our minds open to conviction, and in the cultivation 
 
MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. XXXIX 
 
 of fortitude, patience and charity. We have, indeed , no slight 
 trial of the latter, when we behold the enlightened and benev- 
 olent friend of all mankind, whose life has invariably exhib- 
 ited, and whose instructions have ever enforced, the practice 
 of every mild and gentle virtue, treated with a cruelty which 
 would disgrace a barbarous age. But we will remember our 
 principles, the principles. Sir, we have imbibed from you, and 
 will say, in the language of philosophy and Christianity, De- 
 luded men, we pity you : may your hearts be turned, and 
 your errors forgiven !" 
 
 It is gratifying to know that these addresses were not con- 
 fined to one party, but that many forgot their differences and 
 prejudices in the desire to do justice to an injured man. 
 " However some of us," they say, " may differ from you in 
 several doctrinal opinions, we are well convinced of the integ- 
 rity of your character, and think ourselves highly obliged to 
 you for your services in the cause of religious and civil lib- 
 erty. In this cause we respect you as a confessor ; and ad- 
 mire the magnanimity and meekness, equally honorable to 
 the man and the Christian, with which you have borne the 
 losses you have sustained. The approbation of your own 
 mind, the esteem of the friends of freedom, and the persua- 
 sion that your personal misfortunes, under the direction of a 
 wise and benevolent Providence, will finally prove conducive 
 to public good, will, we doubt not, still continue to afford you 
 support, and enable you to rejoice, even in tribulation." 
 
 It was not by words only that he was cheered in his trial. 
 He received relief in large donations of money from various 
 persons and bodies of men ; among the rest a subscription of 
 thirty pounds from a society of Calvinists. So that his pe- 
 cuniary losses were made up to him, as he states, though 
 what was awarded to him by the courts of law fell two thou- 
 sand pounds short of them. His friends in London gave him 
 an asylum ; and after it was found tl\at it would be impossi- 
 ble for him to return to Birmingham, the congregation in 
 Hackney, recently under the charge of Dr. Price, invited him 
 
Xl MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. 
 
 to become their pastor, and he was settled there in Novem- 
 ber the same year. Here then, four months only after the 
 riots, he was quietly seated again at his wonted employments ; 
 knowing that the most virulent ill will was existing towards 
 him in various quarters, and subjected to many vexatious 
 annoyances, yet calmly and happily pursuing his studies as 
 a philosopher and divine, and seeking as always to do good 
 to the world by the eftbrts of his pen. " I found myself," he 
 says, " as happy as I had been at Birmingham ; and, con- 
 trary to general expectation, I opened my lectures to young 
 persons with great success, being attended by many from 
 London ; and though I lost some of the hearers, I left the 
 congregation in a better situation than that in which I found it. 
 On the whole, I spent my time even more happily at 
 Hackney than ever I had done before, having every advan- 
 tage for my philosophical and theological studies, in some 
 respect superior to what I had enjoyed at Birmingham ; espe- 
 cially from my easy access to Mr. Lindsey, and my frequent 
 intercourse with Mr. Belsham, professor of divinity in the 
 New College, near which I lived. Never, on this side the 
 grave, do I expect to enjoy myself so much as I did by the 
 fireside of Mr. Lindsey, conversing with him and Mrs. Lind- 
 sey on theological and other subjects, or in my frequent walks 
 with Mr. Belsham, whose views of most important subjects 
 were, like Mr. Lindsey's the same with my own." 
 
 But after a little more than two years, he was convinced 
 that continuance in this situation was impossible, and he pre- 
 pared to withdraw from it. We give the account in his own 
 words.* " After the riots in Birmingham, it was the expecta- 
 tion, and evidently the wish of many persons, that I should im- 
 mediately fly to France or America. But I had no conscious- 
 ness of guilt to induce me to fly from my country.! On the 
 
 • Preface to his Fast Sermon, 1704. 
 
 t " If, instead of flying from lawless violence I had been flying from 
 public justice, I could not have been pursued with more rancor, 
 
MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. xli 
 
 contrary, I came directly to London, and instantly, by means 
 of my friend, Mr Russell, signified to the king's ministers, 
 that I was there, and ready, if they thought proper, to be in- 
 terrogated on the subject of the riot. But no notice was 
 taken of the message. 
 
 Ill treated as I thought I had been, not merely by the 
 populace of Birmingham, for they were the mere tools of 
 their superiors, but by the country in general, which evidently 
 exulted in our sufferings, and afterwards by the representa- 
 tives of the nation, who refused to inquire into the cause of 
 them, I own I was not without deliberating upon the subject 
 of emigration ; and several flattering proposals were made 
 me, especially from France, which was then at peace within 
 itself, and with all the world ; and I was at one time much 
 inclined to go thither, on account of its nearness to England, 
 the agreeableness of its climate, and my having many friends 
 there. 
 
 But I likewise considered that, if I went thither, I should 
 have no employment of the kind to which I had been accus- 
 tomed ; and the season of active life not being, according to the 
 course of nature, quite over, I wished to make as much use 
 of it as I could. I therefore determined to continue in Eng- 
 land, exposed as I was not only to unbounded obloquy and 
 insult, but to every kind of outrage ; and after my invitation 
 
 nor could my friends have been more anxious for my safety. One 
 man, who happened to see me on horseback on one of the nights in 
 which I escaped from Birmingham, expressed his regret that he had 
 not taken me, expecting probably some considerable reward, as he 
 said, it was so easy for him to have done it. My friends earnestly 
 advised me to disguise myself, as I was going to London. But all 
 that was done in that way, was taking a place for me in the mail- 
 coach, which I entered at Worcester, in another name than my own. 
 However, the friend who had the courage to receive me in London, 
 had thought it necessary to provide a dress that should disguise mo, and 
 also a method of making my escape, in case the house should have 
 been attacked on my account ; and for some time my friends would 
 not suffer me to appear in the streets." 
 
xlii 
 
 MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. 
 
 to succeed my friend, Dr. Price, I had no hesitation about it. 
 Accordingly I took up my residence where I now am, though 
 so prevalent was the idea of my insecurity, that I was not 
 able to take the house in my own name ; and when a friend 
 of mine took it in his, it was with much difficulty that, after 
 some time, the landlord was prevailed upon to transfer the 
 lease to me. He expressed his apprehension, not only of 
 the house that I occupied, being demolished, but also a capi- 
 tal house in which he himself resides, at the distance of no 
 less than twenty miles from London, whither he supposed the 
 rioters would go next, merely for suffering me to live in a 
 house of his. 
 
 But even this does not give such an idea of the danger 
 that not only myself, but every person and every thing that 
 had the slightest connexion with me, were supposed to be in, 
 as the following. The managers of one of the principal "char- 
 ities among the Dissenters applied to me to preach their an- 
 nual sermon, and I had consented. But the treasurer, a man 
 of fortune, who knew nothing more of me than my name, 
 was so much alarmed at it, that he declared he could not 
 sleep. I therefore, to his great relief, declined preaching 
 at all. 
 
 When it was known tliat I was settled where I now am, 
 several of my friends, who lived near me, were seriously ad- 
 vised to remove their papers, and other most valuable effects, 
 to some place of greater safety in London. On the 14th of 
 July, 1792, it was taken for granted by many of the neigh- 
 bours, that my house was to come down, just as at Birming- 
 ham the year before. When the Hackney association was 
 formed, several servants in the neighbourhood actually re- 
 moved their goods ; and when tliere was some political meet- 
 ing at the house of Mr. Breillat, though about two miles from 
 my house, a woman whose daughter was servant in the house 
 contiguous to mine, came to her mistress to entreat that she 
 might be out of tiie way ; and it was not without much diffi- 
 culty that she was pacified, and prevailed upon to let her 
 
MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. 
 
 xliii 
 
 continue in the house, her mistress saying that she was as safe 
 as herself. 
 
 On several other occasions the neighbourhood has been 
 greatly alarmed on account of my being so near them. Nor 
 was this without apparent reason. I could name a person, 
 and to appearance a reputable tradesman, who, in the com- 
 pany of his friends, and in the hearing of one of my late con- 
 gregation at Birmingham, but without knowing him to be 
 such, declared that, in case of any disturbance, they would 
 immediately come to Hackney, evidently for the purpose of 
 mischief In this state of things, it is not to be wondered at, 
 that of many servants who were recommended to me, and 
 some that were actually hired, very few could, for a long time, 
 be prevailed upon to live with me. 
 
 These facts not only show how general was the idea of 
 my particular insecurity in this country ; but what is of much 
 more consequence, and highly interesting to the country at 
 large, an idea of the general disposition to rioting and vio- 
 lence that prevails in it, and that the Dissenters are the ob- 
 jects of it. Mr. Pitt very justly observed, in his speech on 
 the subject of the riots at Birmingham, that it was " the effer- 
 vescence of the public mind." Indeed the effervescible matter 
 has existed in this country ever since the civil wars in the 
 time of Charles I. and it was particularly apparent in the 
 reign of Clueen Anne. But the power of government under 
 the former princes of the House of Hanover, prevented its 
 doing any mischief The late events show that this power 
 is no longer exerted as it used to be, but that on the contra- 
 ry, there prevails an idea well or ill-founded, that tumultuary 
 proceedings against Dissenters, will not receive any effectual 
 discouragement. After what has taken place with respect 
 to Birmingham, all idea of much hazard for insulting and 
 abusing the Dissenters, is entirely vanished ; whereas the dis- 
 position to injure the Catholics was effectually checked by 
 the proceedings of the year 1780. From that time they have 
 been safe, and I rejoice in it. But from the year 1791, the 
 
Xliv MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. 
 
 Dissenters have been more exposed to insult and outrage than 
 ever. 
 
 Having fixed myself at Clapton, unhinged as I had been, 
 and having lost the labor of several years, yet flattering my- 
 self that I should end my days here, I took a long lease of my 
 house, and expended a considerable sum in improving it. I 
 also determined, with the assistance of my friends, to resume 
 my philosophical and other pursuits ; and after an interrup- 
 tion amounting to about two years, it was with a pleasure 
 that I cannot describe, that I entered my new laboratory, 
 and began the most common preparatory processes, with a 
 view to some original inquiries. With what success I have 
 labored, the public has already in some measure seen, and 
 may see more hereafter. 
 
 But though I did not choose (notwithstanding I found my- 
 self exposed to continual insult) to leave my native country, I 
 found it necessary to provide for my sons elsewhere. My 
 eldest son was settled in a business, which promised to be 
 very advantageous, at Manchester ; but his partner, though a 
 man of liberality himself, informed him, on perceiving the 
 general prevalence of the spirit which produced the riots in 
 Birmingham, that, owing to his relationship to me, he was 
 under the necessity of proposing a separation, which accord- 
 ingly took place. 
 
 On this he had an invitation to join another connexion, in 
 a business in which the spirit of party could not have much 
 affected him ; but he declined it. And after he had been 
 present at the assizes at Warwick, he conceived such an idea 
 of this country, that I do not believe any proposal, however 
 advantageous, would have induced him to continue in it ; so 
 much was he affected on perceiving his father treated as I 
 had been. 
 
 Determining to go to America, where he had no prospect 
 but that of being a farmer, he wished to spend a short time 
 with a person who had greatly distinguished himself in that 
 way, and one who from his own general principles, and his 
 
MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. xlv 
 
 friendship for myself, would have given him the best advice 
 and assistance in his power. He, however, declined it, and 
 acknowledged some time after, that had it been known, as it 
 must have been, to his landlord, that he had a son of mine 
 with him, he feared he should have been turned out of his 
 farm. 
 
 My second son, who was present both at the riot and the 
 assizes, felt more indignation still, and willingly listened to a 
 proposal to settle in France ; and there his reception was but 
 too flattering. However, on the breaking out of the war 
 with this country, all mercantile prospects being suspended, 
 he wished to go to America. There his eldest and youngest 
 brother have joined him, and they are now looking out for a 
 settlement, having as yet no fixed views. 
 
 The necessity I was under of sending my sons out of this 
 country, was my principal inducement to send the little prop- 
 erty that I had out of it too ; so that T had nothing in England 
 besides my library, apparatus, and household goods. By 
 this, I felt myself greatly relieved, it being of little conse- 
 quence where a man, already turned of sixty, ends his days. 
 Whatever good or evil I have been capable of, is now chiefly 
 done ; and I trust that the same consciousness of integrity, 
 which has supported me hitherto, will carry me through any 
 thing that may yet be reserved for me. Seeing, however, no 
 great prospect of doing much good, or having much enjoy- 
 ment here, I am now preparing to follow my sons ; hoping to 
 be of some use to them in their present unsettled state, and 
 that Providence may yet, advancing in years as I am, find 
 me some sphere of usefulness with them. 
 
 As to the great odium that I have incurred, the charge of 
 sedition, or my being an enemy to the constitution or peace 
 of my country, is a mere pretence for it ; though it has been 
 so much urged, that it is now generally believed, and all 
 attempts to undeceive the public with respect to it, avail 
 nothing at all. The whole course of my studies, from early 
 life, shows how little politics of any kind have been my ob- 
 
Xlvi MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. 
 
 ject. Indeed, to liave written so much as I have in theology, 
 and to have done so much in experimental philosophy, and 
 at the same time to have had my'mind occupied, as it is sup- 
 posed to have been, with factious jMilitics, I must have had 
 faculties more than human. Let any person only cast his 
 eye over the long list of my publications, and he will see that 
 they relate almost wholly to theology, philosophy, or general 
 literature. 
 
 I did, however, when I was a younger man, and before it 
 was in my power to give much attention to philosophical pur- 
 suits, write a small anonymous political pamphlet, " On the 
 State of Liberty in this Country," about the time of Mr. 
 Wilkes's election for Middlesex, which gained me the ac- 
 quaintance, and I may say the friendship, of Sir George 
 Saville, and which I had the happiness to enjoy as long as he 
 lived. 
 
 At the request also of Dr. Franklin and Dr. Fothergill, I 
 wrote an Address to the Dissenters on the subject of the aj>- 
 proaching rupture with America, a pamphlet which Sir 
 George Saville, and my other friends, circulated in great 
 numbers, and it was thought with some effect. 
 
 After this, I entirely ceased to write any thing on the sub- 
 ject of politics, except as far as the business of the " Test 
 Act," and of "Civil Establishments of Religion," had a con- 
 nexion with politics. And though, at the recommendation 
 of Dr. Price, I was presently after this taken into the family 
 of the Marquis of Lansdowne, and I entered into almost all 
 his views, as thinking them just and liberal, I never wrote a 
 single political pamphlet, or even a paragraph in a newspa- 
 per, all the time that I was with him, which was seven years. 
 
 I never preached a political sermon in my life ; unless such 
 as I believe, all Dissenters usually preach on the fifth of No- 
 vember, in ffivor of civil and religious liberty, may be said to 
 be political. And on these occasions, I am confident, that I 
 never advanced any sentiment but such as, until of late years, 
 would have tended to recommend, rather than render me ob- 
 
MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. xlvii 
 
 noxious, to those who direct the administration of this coun- 
 try. And the doctrines which I adopted when young, and 
 which were even popular then (except with the clergy, who 
 were at that time generally disaffected to the family on the 
 throne), I cannot abandon, merely because the times are so 
 changed, that they are now become unpopular, and the ex- 
 pression and communication of them hazardous. 
 
 Farther, though I by no means disapprove of societies for 
 political information, such as are now every where discoun- 
 tenanced and generally suppressed, I never was a member of 
 any of them; nor, indeed, did I ever attend any public meet- 
 ing, if I could decently avoid it, owing to habits acquired in 
 studious and retired life. 
 
 From a mistake of my talents and disposition, I was invited 
 by many of the departments in France, to represent them in 
 the present National Convention, after I had been made a 
 citizen of France, on account of my being considered as one 
 who had been persecuted for my attachment to the cause of 
 liberty here. But though the invitation was repeated with 
 the most flattering importunity, I never hesitated about de- 
 clining it. 
 
 I can farther say with respect to politics, concerning 
 which, I believe, every Englishman has some opinion or 
 other (and at present, owing to the peculiar nature of the 
 present war, it is almost the only topic of general conversa- 
 tion), that, except in company, I hardly ever think of the sub- 
 ject, my reading, meditation, and writing, being almost 
 wholly engrossed by theology and philosophy ; and of late, as 
 for many years before the riots in Birmingham, I have spent 
 a very great proportion of my time, as my friends well know, 
 in my laboratory. 
 
 If, then, my real crime has not been sedition, or treason, 
 what has it been ? For every effect must have some adequate 
 cause, and therefore the odium that I have incurred, must 
 have been owing to something in my declared sentiments or 
 conduct, that has exposed me to it. In my opinion, it can- 
 
xlviii 
 
 MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. 
 
 not have been any thing but my open hostility to the doc- 
 trines of the established church, and more especially to all 
 civil establishments of religion whatever. This has brought 
 upon me the implacable resentment of the great body of the 
 clergy ; and they have found other methods of opposing me 
 besides argument, and that use of the press, which is equally 
 open to us all. They have also found an able ally and cham- 
 pion in Mr. Burke, who (without any provocation except that 
 of answering his book on the French Revolution) has taken 
 several opportunities of inveighing against me, in a place 
 where he knows I cannot reply to him, and from which he 
 also knows that his accusation will reach every corner of the 
 country, and consequently thousands of persons who will 
 never read any writings of mine. They have had another, 
 and still more effectual vehicle of their abuse, in what are 
 called the treasury newspajjers, and other popular publica- 
 tions. 
 
 By these and other means, the same party spirit which 
 was the cause of the riots in Birmingham, has been increas- 
 ing ever since, especially in that neighbourhood. A remark- 
 able instance of this may be seen in a " Letter" addressed, 
 but not sent to me, from Mr. Foley, rector of Stourbridge, 
 who acknowledges the satisfaction that he and his brethren 
 have received from one of the grossest and coarsest pieces of 
 abuse of me that has yet appeared, which, as a curious speci- 
 men of the kind, I inserted in the " Appendix of my Appeal," 
 and in which I am represented as no better than Guy 
 Fawkes, or the devil himself. This very Christian divine 
 recommends to the members of the established church, to de- 
 cline all commercial dealings with the Dissenters, as an effec- 
 tual method of exterminating them. This method has been 
 actually adopted in many parts of England. Also great num- 
 bers of the best farmers and artisans in England, have 
 been dismissed because they would not go to the established 
 church. " Defoe's Shortest Way with the Dissenters," would 
 have taught the friends of the church a more effectual method 
 
MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. xHx 
 
 still. And yet this Mr. Foley, whom I never saw, and who 
 could not have had any particular cause of enmity to me, 
 had, like Mr. Madan of Birmingham, a character for liberal- 
 ity. What, then, have we to expect from others, when we 
 find so much bigotry and rancor in such men as these ? 
 
 Many times, by the encouragement of persons from whom 
 better things might have been expected, I have been burned 
 in efhgy along with Mr. Paine ; and numberless insulting and 
 threatening letters have been sent to me from all parts of the 
 kingdom. It is not possible for any man to have conducted 
 himself more peaceably than I have done all the time that I 
 have lived at Clapton, yet it has not exempted me not only 
 from the worst suspicions, but very gross insults. A very 
 friendly and innocent club, which I found in the place, has 
 been considered as jacobin, chiefly on my account ; and at 
 one time there was cause of apprehension that I should have 
 been brought into danger for lending one of Mr. Paine's 
 books. But with some difficulty the neighbourhood was sat- 
 isfied that I was innocent. 
 
 As nothing had been paid to me on account of damages 
 in the riot, when I published the second part of my " Appeal 
 to the Public " on the subject, it may be proper to say, that 
 it was paid some time in the beginning of the year 1793, 
 with interest only from the first of January of the same year, 
 though the injury was received in July, 1791 ; when equity 
 evidently required, that it ought to have been allowed from the 
 time of the riot, especially as, in all the cases, the allowance 
 was far short of the loss. In my case it fell short, as I have 
 shown, not less than two thousand pounds. And the losses 
 sustained by the other sufferers far exceeded mine. Public 
 justice also required that, if the forms of law, local enmity or 
 any other cause, had prevented our receiving full indemnifi- 
 cation, it should have been made up to us from the public 
 treasury , the great end of all civil government being protec- 
 tion from violence, or an indemnification for it. Whatever 
 d 
 
1 MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. 
 
 we might in equity claim, the country owes us, and, if it be 
 just, will some time or other pay, and with interest. 
 
 I would farther observe, that since, in a variety of cases, 
 money is allowed where the injury is not of a pecuniary 
 nature, merely because no other compensation can be given, 
 the same should have been done with respect to me, on ac- 
 count of the destruction of my manuscripts, the interruption 
 of my pursuits, the loss of a pleasing and advantageous situ- 
 ation, &C. &c. and had the injury been sustained by a clergy- 
 man, he would, I doubt not, have claimed, and been allowed, 
 very large damages on this account. So far, liowever, was 
 there from being any idea of the kind in my favor, that my 
 counsel advised me to make no mention of my manuscript 
 " Lectures on the Constitution of England," a work about as 
 large as that of Blackstone (as may be seen by the syllabus 
 of the particular lectures, sixty-three in all, published in the 
 first edition of my " Essays on a Course of Liberal Education, 
 for Civil and Active Life"), because it would be taken for 
 granted, that they were of a seditious nature, and would 
 therefore have been of disservice to me with the jury. Accord- 
 ingly they were, in the account of my losses, included in the 
 article of so much paper. After these losses, had there been 
 nothing but the justice of my country to look to, I must 
 have sunk under the burden, incapable of any farther exer- 
 tions. It was the seasonable generosity of my friends that 
 prevented this, and put it in my power, though with the una- 
 voidable loss of nearly two years, to resume my former pursuits. 
 
 A farther proof of the excessive bigotry of this country is, 
 that, though the clergy of Birmingham resenting what I ad- 
 vanced in the first part of my " Appeal, " replied to it, and 
 pledged themselves to go through with the inquiry along with 
 me, till the whole truth should be investigated, they have 
 made no reply to the " Second Part of my Appeal," in which 
 I brought specific charges against themselves, and other per- 
 sons by name, proving them to have been the promoters and 
 abettors of the riot ; and yet they have as much respect shown 
 
MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. U 
 
 to them as ever, and the country at large pays no attention 
 to it. Had the clergy been the injured persons, and Dissen- 
 ters the rioters, unable to answer the charges brought against 
 them, so great would have been the general indignation at 
 their conduct, that I am persuaded it would not have been 
 possible for them to continue in the country. 
 
 I could, if I were so disposed, give my readers many more 
 instances of the bigotry of the clergy of the church of Eng- 
 land with respect to me, which could not fail to excite, in 
 generous minds, equal indignation and contempt ; but I for- 
 bear. Had I, however, forseen what I am now witness to, I 
 certainly should not have made any attempt to replace my 
 library or apparatus, and I soon repented of having done it. 
 But this being done, I was willing to make some use of both 
 before another interruption of my pursuits. I began to phi- 
 losophize and make experiments rather late in life, being 
 nearly forty, for want of the necessary means of doing any 
 thing in this way ; and my pursuits have been much inter- 
 rupted by removals (never indeed chosen by myself, but 
 rendered necessary by circumstances), and my time beinar 
 now short, I hoped to have had no occasion for more than one, 
 and that a final remove. But the circumstances above men- 
 tioned have induced me, though with great and sincere 
 regret, to undertake another, and to a greater distance than 
 any that I have hitherto made. 
 
 I profess not to be unmoved by the aspect of things exhib- 
 ited in this discourse. But notwithstanding this, I should 
 willingly have awaited my fate in my native country, whatever 
 it had been, if I had not had sons in America, and if I did not 
 think that a field of public usefulness, which is evidently 
 closing upon me here, might open to more advantage there. 
 
 I own also, that I am not unaffected by such unexampled 
 punishments as those of Mr. Muir, and my friend, Mr. Pal- 
 mer, for offences, which, if, in the eye of reason, they be any 
 at all, are slight, and very insufficiently proved ; a measure so 
 subversive of that freedom of speaking and acting, which has 
 
lii MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. 
 
 hitherto been the great pride of Britons. But the sentence of 
 Mr. Winterbotham, for delivering from the pulpit what I am 
 pursuaded he never did deliver, and which, similar evidence 
 might have drawn upon myself, or any other Dissenting 
 minister who was an object of general dislike, has something 
 in it still more alarming. But I trust that conscious inno- 
 cence would support me as it does him, under whatever pre- 
 judiced and violent men might do to me, as well as say of me. 
 But I see no occasion to expose myself to danger, without 
 any prospect of doing good, or to continue any longer in a 
 country in which I am so unjustly become the object of gen- 
 eral dislike, and not retire to another, where I have reason to 
 think I shall be better received. And I trust that the same 
 good Providence which has attended me hitherto, and made 
 me happy in my present situation and all my former ones, will 
 attend and bless me in what may still be before me. In 
 all events, the will of God be done. 
 
 I cannot refrain from repeating again, that I leave my 
 native country with real regret, never expecting to find any 
 where else society so suited to my disposition and habits, 
 such friends as I have here (whose attachment has been more 
 than a balance to all the abuse I have met with from others), 
 aud especially to replace one particular Christian friend, in 
 whose absence I shall, for some time at least, find all the 
 world a blank. Still less can I expect to resume my favor- 
 ite pursuits with any thing like the advantages I enjoy here. 
 In leaving this country, I also abandon a source of mainte- 
 nance, which I can but ill bear to lose. I can, however, truly 
 say that I leave it without any resentment or ill will. On 
 the contrary, I sincerely wish my countrymen all happiness ; 
 and when the time for reflection (which my absence may 
 accelerate) shall come, they will, I am confident, do me more 
 justice. They will be convinced that every suspicion they 
 have been led to entertain to my disadvantage, has been ill 
 founded, and that I have oven some claim to their gratitude 
 and esteem. In this case, I shall look with satisfaction to the 
 
MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. Hii 
 
 time when, if my life be prolonged, I may visit my friends in 
 this country ; and perhaps I may, notwithstanding my re- 
 moval for the present, find a grave (as I believe is naturally 
 the wish of every man) in the land that gave me birth." 
 
 As the time drew near when he was to sail, testimonials of 
 respect and regret poured in upon him from various quarters. 
 Of these one of the most gratifying was from Cambridge. 
 " A few gentlemen of the University, of all ranks," (to use 
 the words of one of them), "justly indignant that this great 
 philosopher and most amiable man should be banished his 
 country by a church-and-king mob, connived at, if not en- 
 couraged by, the government of the day," presented him on 
 his departure a handsome silver inkstand, with this inscrip- 
 tion : " To Joseph Priestley, LL. D. &lc. on his depar- 
 ture into exile, from a few members of the University of 
 Cambridge, who regret that this expression of their esteem 
 should be occasioned by the ingratitude of their country." 
 
 On the 30th of March, he delivered his farewell sermon at 
 Hackney, from Acts xx. 32. His chapel was crowded, as it 
 had been for many successive Sabbaths, by those who were 
 anxious to receive the last instructions of so eminent a 
 teacher. The next Sabbath, April 6, he passed in the family 
 of his friends in Essex street, and worshipped in Essex street 
 chapel. It was his last day in England. He sailed the 7th 
 of April, and arrived at New York, after a long and unpleas- 
 ant voyage, the 4th of June. While at sea he wrote his 
 " Observations on the prevalence of Infidelity," and occu- 
 pied himself in the study of the New Testament ; " which," 
 he says in a letter to Mr. Lindsey, " I think I read with more 
 satisfaction than ever. Unbelievers, I am confident, do not 
 read it, except with a predisposition to cavil." In another 
 letter, immediately on his arrival, he writes thus. 
 
 " Our society in the cabin was agreeable enough, though 
 the majority were aristocratically inclined ; but all in the 
 steerage were zealous republicans, and persons of good char- 
 acter, and several of good property. In the steerage, also, 
 
liv 
 
 MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. 
 
 there was more religion than in the cabin, but they were uni- 
 versally Calvinists, though the majority very moderate, as 
 you will suppose from their applying to me to perform divine 
 service to them ; which I did with much satisfaction, when 
 the weather and other circumstances would permit, several in 
 the cabin joining us, though some of them were unbelievers, 
 but for want of information. This is the case with Mr. Lyon, 
 a most excellent man, who is now reading my " Sermons on 
 the Evidences of Revelation," and, I hope, to good purpose. 
 He, like thousands of others, told me that he was so much dis- 
 gusted with the doctrinesof the Church of England, especially 
 the Trinity, that he considered the whole business as an 
 imposition, without farther inquiry. 
 
 The confinement in the ship would not have been dis- 
 agreeable if I could have written with convenince, but I 
 could do little more than read. I read the whole of the 
 Greek Testament, and the Hebrew Bible as far as the first 
 Book of Samuel ; and, I think, with more satisfaction than 
 ever. I also read through Hartley's second volume, and, for 
 amusement, I had several books of voyages, and Ovid's Meta- 
 morphoses, which I read through. I always admired his 
 Latin versification. If I had a Virgil, I should have read 
 him through, too. I read a great deal of Buchanan's poems, 
 and some of Petrarch dc remediis, and Erasmus's Dialogues ; 
 also Peter Pindar's poems, which Mr. Lyon had with him, 
 and which pleased me much more than I expected. He 
 is Paine in verse. Though it was particularly inconvenient 
 to write long hand, I composed about as much as will make 
 two sermons on the causes of infidelity, which will make a 
 proper addition to the volume of my discourses. If I do not 
 print them here, I will send you a copy. Now that I have 
 access to the first volume of Hartley, in the fine edition Mrs. 
 Lindsey gave me, I think I can improve what I wrote. The 
 second volume I had in the ship, was an odd volume of the 
 set that was distroyed in the riot." 
 
 " I never saw any place that I liked so well as New York. 
 
MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. Iv 
 
 It far exceeds my expectations, and my reception is too flat- 
 tering, no form of respect being omitted. I have received 
 two formal addresses, to which I have given answers. More, 
 I hear, are coming ; and almost every person of the least con- 
 sequence in the place, has been, or is coming, to call upon 
 me. This is rather troublesome, but it shows the difference 
 of the two countries. Every thing that bore the name of 
 king or queen is changed, as streets, &c., &c., and yet this 
 is the most aristocratical place on the continent. I am lodged 
 in the house which was the head-quarters of generals Howe 
 and Clinton, in view of the bay, Vi'hich is the finest prospect 
 (hat I remember ever to have seen. 
 
 This must be a glorious country, and I doubt not of find- 
 ing a peaceable and useful establishment in it. When that 
 is accomplished, my only wish will be to have you, and a few 
 other Christian friends, to come and end their days with us. 
 But we must not promise ourselves too much in this world. 
 
 Say for me every thing that a greatful heart can dictate, 
 both for myself, my wife, and my son, to Mrs. Rayner. 
 Yours and Mrs. Lindsey's most affectionately ." 
 
 Again he writes, June 15. 
 
 " We have now been here near a fortnight, and I begin to 
 expect to hear from you, which is the greatest satisfaction that 
 I expect in this country ; but I sometimes think that every 
 thing here is so promising and every thing with you so threat- 
 ening, that perhaps even you and Mrs. Lindsey may be in- 
 duced to end your days with us. To accomplish this, I 
 should at any time come over and fetch you. Indeed, the 
 difference between the aspect of things here and with you is 
 not to be expressed. I feel as if I were in another world. I 
 never before could conceive how satisfactory it is to have the 
 feeling that I now have, fiom a sense of perfect security and 
 liberty, all men having equal rights and privileges, and speak- 
 ing and acting as if they were sensible of it. Here are no 
 beggars to be seen, and families are easily maintained by any 
 kind of labor ; and whether it be the effect of general liberty, 
 
Ivi 
 
 MEMOIR OP DR. PRIESTLEY. 
 
 or some other cause, I find many more clever men, men ca- 
 pable of conversing with propriety and fluency on all subjects 
 relating to government, than I have met with any where in 
 England. T have seen many members of Congress on their 
 return from it, and without exception, they seem to be men of 
 first rate ability, though some of them plain in their manners. 
 
 With respect to myself, the difference is great indeed. In 
 England, I was an object of the greatest aversion to every 
 person connected with government ; whereas here, they are 
 those who show me the most respect. With you, the Episco- 
 pal church is above every thing. In this city, it makes a de- 
 cent figure, but the Presbyterians are much above them, and 
 the governor (Clinton), who is particularly attentive to me, 
 goes to the meeting-house." 
 
 After a short visit at New York and Philadelphia, Dr. 
 Priestley took up his permanent residence at Northumber- 
 land. His situation and mode of life there may be seen in 
 the letters which he wrote from that place in October and 
 December. 
 
 " The greatest inconvenience attending this situation is a 
 want of a ready communication with Philadelphia. There 
 are no stage-wagons ; and the only method of sending heavy 
 goods is by land in the wagons that carry corn to Middle- 
 town, on the Susqueliannah, and thence by water hither ; 
 and the water is so low at this time of the year, that it is not 
 navigable. It is expected to rise a little towards the end of 
 this month ; but the best time for it is in the spring, and till 
 midsummer ; but then there are few wagons going to Mid- 
 dletown. 
 
 Inconvenient as this circumstance and some others make a 
 residence in this place, I prefer it on the whole. Philadel- 
 phia is unpleasant, unhealthy, and intolerably expensive ; and 
 there I should have little command of my time. Here I can 
 command the whole ; and when I get my books and instru- 
 ments, I hope to do as much as ever I have done. In the 
 mean time, I am not idle. I have some books, and every 
 
MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. Ivii 
 
 day do something towards the continuation of my Church 
 History. I shall finish the next period which will carry the 
 History to the rise of Mahometanism, in about a month, task- 
 ing myself every day. My materials will not carry me much 
 farther. 
 
 I never read so much Hebrew as I have since I left Eng- 
 land. I have nearly finished all the Old Testament, and I 
 never read it with so much satisfaction, especially the proph- 
 ecies, which I am now attending to. I think I shall read 
 more or less of the Hebrew Bible as long as I live ; and shall, 
 when I get my Polyglots, and other helps, take much pleasure 
 in translating more than I undertook before. Having leisure 
 for miscellaneous reading, I have read almost the whole of 
 Tacitus, which I had not done before, and I admire him 
 more than I expected. I shall read many of the best ancient 
 writers, especially the historians, when I get my library. 
 
 I have nearly printed the Continuation of my Letters to the 
 Philosophers and Politicians of France, and to a Philosophical 
 Unbeliever ; the latter in answer to Mr. Paine's Age of Rea- 
 son ; which is much read, and has made great impression 
 here ; nor will you wonder at it, when you consider what 
 kind of Christianity is preached here. I am told that the 
 Quakers read it with great avidity, and they have no knowl- 
 edge at all of the proper evidence of Christianity, or the doc- 
 trines of it. Many of them, therefore, in this country, either 
 actually are, or are easily made unbelievers. There are 
 great expectations, I am told, from my answer to Paine, and 
 I hope it will do good. 
 
 I told you that when I came hither I was asked to preach 
 at the Presbyterian meeting-house ; but though I am sure I 
 said nothing which could give any Christian just offence, they 
 never asked me again, and I have contented myself with read- 
 ing a sermon in my own house. Yesterday, however, the 
 officer of a company of soldiers who are passing this way re- 
 quested me to preach to them, and they got the use of the 
 meeting-house, and some of the people of the place attended ; 
 
Iviii MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. 
 
 but little can be done before I get a place to myself, which, 
 if a few persons from England join us, will soon be accom- 
 plished, especially if the college be established here, and of 
 this no doubt is now entertained ; and the person whose 
 property the greatest part of the town is, has consented to 
 give the ground to build it on. We therefore hope to have 
 the buildings raised the next year, and begin some business, 
 when I hope to be of some use. In the spring, however, I 
 shall go to Philadelphia, and preach a sermon, which I have 
 already composed and transcribed, from ^f#.s xvii. 18-20; 
 but I want your cool judgment in this and all my other com- 
 positions. I feel myself as a ship without a rudder." 
 
 Again. " Though I am far from being so happy as I was 
 at Hackney, near you and Mr. Belsham, I have a tolerable 
 prospect of being more comfortable when I have got my house 
 built ; but I foresee much trouble, as well as expense, attend- 
 ing it. My instruments must remain unpacked, at least in a 
 great measure, till then, and my books are chiefly in a barn 
 and a garret, so that it is not very ea.sy to come at them all. 
 In this respect, however, I do pretty well, and by doing my 
 different tasks every day, have the satisfaction of thinking I 
 do .some business, without which I should have little enjoy- 
 ment of life. 
 
 I shall get well acquainted with the Hebrew Bible, a large 
 portion of which I read the first thing every morning, and I 
 give some hours every day to my Church History. The great 
 number of unbelievers here will keep up my attention to the 
 evidences of revelation, and I think I may perhaps add another 
 part to my Letters to a Philosophical Unbeliever, on the sub- 
 ject of prophecy. I like Bicheno's idea of the seven thunders 
 meaning the seven wars wliicli have taken place since the 
 conquests of the Turks, but there is little else that I admire in 
 him. T have had some of the same thoughts that Mr. Gam- 
 ham has entertained ; but I cannot say that they give me the 
 same satisfaction that they do him, and I think he hazards a 
 great deal in foretelling the duration and the issue of the pres- 
 
MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. 
 
 lix 
 
 ent war against the French. I am endeavouring to settle my 
 opinion of the most probable interpretations of the principal 
 prophecies in Daniel and the Revelation, and when I have 
 done it, shall write to you more fully on the subject. I have 
 no satisfaction like that which attends the study of the Scrip- 
 tures. 
 
 Since I wrote last, I have a prospect of being employed as 
 a preacher here. I have a service every Lord's day at my 
 son's house ; and several persons, the most respectable in the 
 place, have desired to attend, and even, I hear, talk of build- 
 ing a place of worship for me. To this I shall contribute 
 pretty largely myself, and shall feel most happy in being so 
 employed, and in instructing such young persons as will 
 attend me." 
 
 In February, 1796, he visited Philadelphia, and delivered a 
 course of Lectures on the Evidences of Revealed Religion. 
 The congregation that attended, says a lady who was present, 
 were so numerous that the house could not contain them, so 
 that as many were obliged to stand as sit, and even the door- 
 ways were crowded with people. During this visit he at- 
 tended the debates of Congress, on the ratification of Jay's 
 treaty. The passage in which he speaks of them in writing 
 to Mr. Lindsey is not without interest. 
 
 " After a long discussion, the House of Representatives 
 have voted, by a majority of three, for carrying the treaty 
 with England into execution. Having much leisure, I have 
 attended to hear much of the debate, and have heard as good 
 speaking as in your House of Commons, and much more de- 
 corum. A Mr. Ames speaks as well as Mr. Burke ; but, in 
 general, the speakers are more argumentative, and less rhe- 
 torical. And whereas there are not with you more than ten 
 or a dozen tolerable speakers, here every member is capable 
 of speaking, which makes interesting debates tedious. A 
 good account of the speeches is taken by short-hand writers, 
 who have a desk for the purpose, and, I believe, many of the 
 speakers correct them afterwards. As the speeches on this 
 
Ix 
 
 MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. 
 
 occasion are printed, I will send them to you. The mem- 
 bers for the northern states are in general in favor of the 
 treaty, and those from the southern, against it. I am well 
 acquainted with both, and they do not avoid one another, as 
 tlie heads of parties do in England ; and when once any 
 thing is decided by fair voting, all contention ceases." 
 
 In the course of the next year Dr. Priestley's situation was 
 rendered yet more solitary by the death of his youngest son 
 and of his wife. These were severe trials, and he often 
 pathetically alludes to them in his letters, showing how deeply 
 he was afflicted and how a Christian faith and hope sustained 
 him. " The time is fast approaching with respect to me," 
 he says, in a letter to Mrs. Barbauld, " when our intercourse 
 from which I have derived so much satisfaction, will be re- 
 newed with advantage, and to this future scene late events 
 have drawn my attention in a more particular manner than 
 ever. How much to be pitied are they who are not Chris- 
 tians ! What consolation can they have in their sorrows ? 
 Mine have sometimes such a mixture of joy, as hardly to de- 
 serve the name." " The death of my wife," he says some 
 months afterward, " has made a great change in my feel- 
 ings ; though I never felt so sensibly the happy effects of 
 religion." 
 
 In 1797 he again passed some time in Philadelphia, 
 preaching on the Evidences of Christianity, and publishing 
 remarks on the infidel writings of Volney, who was then in 
 that city. The subject of infidelity was that which now 
 supremely interested him. He took little notice of those who 
 were disposed to treat him as a heretic. " Except avowing 
 my sentiments, which I thought it necessary to do, in a sin- 
 gle discourse last year, I pay no attention whatever to the 
 Orthodox, and confine myself to the unbelievers, as by much 
 the more formidable enemy of the two." "While I am 
 preaching and writing against the common enemy, they are 
 preaching and writing against me." That any unbeliever can 
 be pious and habitually devout (without which every charac- 
 
MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. Ixi 
 
 ter must be very imperfect) is what I have not yet seen any 
 appearance of." 
 
 " How insignificant," he exclaims, " are all subjects, com- 
 pared to those which relate to religion ! And yet I am per- 
 suaded I have more pleasure in my philosophical pursuits 
 than any of my unchristian brethren. My views of these 
 subjects give a dignity and importance to them, which, in the 
 eye of the unbeliever, it is impossible they should have." In 
 a similar strain he writes, on hearing of the death of Mrs. 
 Lindsey. " The loss of near friends and the society to which 
 we have been long accustomed, weans us from the world. I 
 have hardly a wish to stay behind, already. When a few more 
 of my friends are gone, I shall wish to go too ; and I think of 
 our meeting in another state much more than ever. What 
 an unspeakable blessing is the knowledge of Christianity. 
 What a pearl of great price do unbelievers reject ! I have 
 now very little real satisfaction in any studies that are foreign 
 to this. I think I should even drop my philosophical pur- 
 suits, but that I consider them as that study of the works of 
 the great Creator, which I shall resume with more advantao-e 
 hereafter." 
 
 In January, 1800, he wrote thus to Mr. Lindsey. 
 
 " Your account of my daughter's illness affects me much. 
 So few recover from consumptions, that I have no expecta- 
 tion of it in her case. She will, however, be freed from much 
 trouble in this life, and be well prepared for another ; and 
 such is my situation here, and so near am I to the same 
 catastrophe, that such an event affects me much less than it 
 would otherwise do. The removal of a very few more would 
 make me wish to follow them. I have no desire to live on 
 account of any enjoyment that I can reasonably expect in 
 this life ; but while I am capable of doino- any o-ood, I 
 wish to have the opportunity. 
 
 From how much trouble has my wife been relieved ! She 
 had a great mind ; but the events that have taken place since 
 her death would have affected her deeply. My trials, now 
 
Ixii MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. 
 
 towards the close of life, are as great as I can bear ; though 
 I doubt not that a wise and good Providence overrules all 
 events, and I have daily a more habitual respect to it. Noth- 
 ing else could support me. I have often said, and I see more 
 reason for it continually, and in my own case, that many 
 events are more to be lamented than the death of children 
 and friends. In that case the mind is relieved from farther 
 anxiety ; and though we have reason to be satisfied when we 
 have done what we think to be our duty, it is not such a sat- 
 isfaction as leaves the mind fully at ease. 
 
 We are frail, imperfect beings, and our faith is at best but 
 weak, and requires to be strengthened by reading and reflec- 
 tion. I never omit reading, and I do it with more satisfac- 
 tion than ever, a considerable portion of Scripture every day, 
 and by this means my mind is much relieved ; and having 
 good health, my spirits are naturally good. Besides, I often 
 think how small a proportion my afflictions bear to those of 
 many others, and to the great mass of distress that I cannot 
 help thinking is coming on a great part of the world, in which 
 many of the worthiest persons must be involved. 
 
 Notwithstanding all my troubles, I have much to be thank- 
 ful for, especially the means of study, in a valuable library 
 and apparatus, of both which I endeavour to make the best 
 use that I can. I sometimes flatter myself that I could be of 
 some use to the cause of Christianity in France ; and with 
 any reasonable prospect of that, I would cheerfully abandon 
 every thing here, and devote myself wholly to it, whatever I 
 miorht suffer in consequence of it ; but I must wait the call 
 of God, in the course of his providence. Here I hope I 
 have done some good, and have laid the foundation for more ; 
 but it is not what we expected. We must not, however, 
 despair of the cause. It is advancing, like the planets, when 
 they seem to be stationary, or even retrograde." 
 
 The calm and happy state of mind in which this good man 
 approached old age, is rendered evident from the passages 
 now cited. He was in trouble, and in comparative solitude; 
 
MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLKY. Ixiii 
 
 but his faith cheered him ; his interest in high thoughts made 
 him happy. His friends sometimes urged his return to 
 Europe, but he preferred to retain his retirement and repose. 
 "Another removal," he said, "would be the termination of 
 all my labors and pursuits in this world ; and these I will not 
 give up, while I am capable of doing any thing. And I 
 thank God, I never had better health ; though I am not 
 strong, or capable of bearing much bodily exercise, and can- 
 not keep to one thing so long as I used to do. By great 
 regularity in the distribution of my time, and having few 
 avocations, I do almost as much business of one kind or 
 another as I ever did, and I read very little for amusement." 
 
 His state of feeling is further depicted in a letter to Mrs. 
 Lindsey, May 8, 1802, after hearing of the illness of her 
 husband. 
 
 " I cannot express how much I was affected on reading 
 your letter, though I was apprized of the situation of my 
 best friend by the letters of Mr. Belsham, so that I had 
 no reason to expect any different account. But the few 
 lines he added, with his own hand, quite overcame me ; and 
 if I read them, as I shall do, a hundred times, I shall have 
 the same emotions. Such friendship as his and yours has 
 been to me, can never be exceeded on this side the orave, 
 and, independent of the real emolument, has been a source of 
 such satisfaction to me as I have not derived from any other 
 quarter. 
 
 And yet what I feel is not properly grief, for, considering 
 how near we both must be to the close of life, in which we 
 could not promise ourselves much more enjoyment, or be of 
 much more use, what remains cannot, according to the com- 
 mon course of nature, be of much value ; and therefore the 
 privation of it is no great loss ; and considering how soon we 
 may expect, and I hope without much presumption, to meet 
 again in more favorable circumstances, the causes of joy may 
 almost be allowed to balance those of grief 
 
 If you saw me now, you would not flatter me with the 
 
Ixiv MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. 
 
 prospect of long surviving my excellent friend. Judging from 
 my illnesses the last year, and my present feelings, I am far 
 from expecting it myself, and, indeed, as it will be the will of 
 God, whatever the event be, and, therefore, no doubt for the 
 best, I cannot say that I greatly wish it. My labors, of what- 
 ever kind, and whatever be their value, must be nearly over." 
 And in a letter to Mr. Lindsey a few weeks later. 
 
 " Dear Friend, jYorthvmberland, Ju7ie 26, 1802. 
 
 Whether it be you or Mrs. Lindsey that is my correspon- 
 dent, I consider it as the same thing. You are alike my 
 friends, and my best friends ; and, whoever survives, this cor- 
 respondence will not, I hope, cease, on this side the grave, 
 while it is possible to continue it. This great change, to 
 which we are making near approaches, I regard, I hope I 
 may say, with more curiosity than anxiety. It is the wise 
 order of Providence that death should intervene between the 
 two different modes of existence ; and what engages my 
 thoughts is, the change itself, more than the mere manner of 
 making it. I look at your portrait, and that of Dr. Price, 
 and Mr. Lee, which are always before me, and think of my 
 deceased friends, whose portraits I have not, with peculiar 
 satisfaction, under the idea that I shall, at no great distance, 
 see them again, and I hope with pleasure. But, how we 
 shall meet again and how we shall be employed, we have lit- 
 tle or no ground even for conjecture. It should satisfy us, 
 however, that we shall be at the disposal, and under the gov- 
 ernment, of the same wise and good Being who has superin- 
 tended us here, and who best knows what place and employ- 
 ment will best suit all of us. 
 
 The more I think of the wonderful system of which we are 
 a part, the less I think of any difficulties about the reality or 
 the circumstance of a future state. The resurrection is, 
 really, nothing, compared to the wonders of every day in the 
 regular course of nature ; and the only reason why we do not 
 wonder is, because the appearances are common. Whether 
 it be, because I converse less with men, in this remote situa- 
 
MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. IxV 
 
 tion, I contemplate the scenes of nature, as the production of 
 its great Author, more, and with more satisfaction, than I 
 ever did before ; and the new discoveries that are now mak- 
 ing in every branch of science, interest me more than ever in 
 this connexion. I see before us a boundless field of the 
 noblest investigation ; and all that we yet know appears to me 
 as nothing, compared to what we are wholly ignorant of, and 
 do not, as yet, perceive any means of access to it." 
 
 Also, in a letter dated Northumberland, July 3, 1802. 
 
 " How rejoiced I was to receive your letter, written wholly 
 with your own hand, after your late alarming attack ! I now 
 hope I shall have more of them ; and nothing on this side the 
 grave gives me more satisfaction ; and yet, considering how 
 soon we may hope to meet again, the separation by death 
 should not give us much concern. While we live, we ought 
 to value life, and friendship, especially Christian friendship, 
 as the balm of it. But we have a better life in prospect, and 
 therefore should not regret the parting with the worse, pro- 
 vided we have enjoyed it properly, and improved it so as to 
 have ensured the better. Absolute confidence does not be- 
 come any man, conscious, as we all must be, of many imper- 
 fections, of omissions, if not of commissions ; but surely a 
 general sincere endeavour to do what we apprehend to be our 
 duty, will authorize so much hope as may be the reasonable 
 foundatioriof joy, with respect to a future state, without being 
 chargeable with arrogance or presumption. 
 
 You could not have made choice of a more pleasing or 
 interesting subject than that of the work which you have 
 happily completed, which, as I believe it is in Philadelphia, 
 I expect soon to receive. It occupies my own thoughts, I 
 may say, almost constantly, and is the greatest source of sat- 
 isfaction that in my present situation, and under my late 
 trials, I enjoy. Indeed, the reflection that we are under the 
 government of the wisest and best of Beings, and that nothing 
 can befal us without his permission, is sufficient to banish the 
 very idea of evil, and to make us regard every thing as a 
 
IXVl MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. 
 
 good for which we ought to be thankful. At the moment, 
 none who have the hearts and feelings of men, but must 
 grieve for many things that he sees and feels ; but Christian 
 principles soon bring relief, and are capable of converting all 
 sorrow into joy. But this will be in proportion to the strength 
 of our faith, in consequence of the exercise of it, when, ac- 
 cording to Hartley, speculative faith is converted into prac- 
 tical." 
 
 " The more I contemplate the great system, the more sat- 
 isfaction I find in it ; and the structure being so perfect, there 
 cannot be a doubt but that the end and use of it, in promoting 
 happiness, will correspond to it. These views, as I take more 
 pleasure than ever in natural history, contribute much to 
 brighten the evening of my days. But my great resource is 
 the Scripture, which I have not, of a long time, passed a 
 single day without reading a portion of, and I am more in- 
 terested in it continually. I seem now to see it with other 
 eyes, and all other reading is comparatively insipid." 
 
 Thus serenely and happily, with a cheerful confidence in 
 divine Providence and a bright hope of heaven, did the life 
 of this Christian philosopher gently draw to its close. Con- 
 stantly occupied with important studies and strongly inter- 
 ested in great truths, he hardly allowed himself to remember 
 the trials and privations of his lot, while he acknowledged 
 its blessings with strong expressions of admiration and grati- 
 tude. 
 
 During a visit to Philadelphia, in 1801, he had a severe 
 ;ind dangerous fever, from the effects of which on his consti- 
 tution he never perfectly recovered. He again visited that 
 city in the spring of 1803, but from that time his health was 
 sensibly declining. His digestive powers were impaired, and 
 lie had a difficulty in swallowing food, which increased to 
 such a degree that he finally came to live exclusively on 
 liquids. In June he was much injured by a fall which lamed 
 him. He had become quite deaf, but his eyes were good, 
 and he continued busily engaged with his studies, and said 
 
MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. Ixvii 
 
 that he was only anxious to live long enough to complete the 
 printing of the works in which he was engaged. His ' Church 
 History ' and ' Notes on the Scriptures ' were those which for 
 some time had principally occupied him ; he was now pre- 
 paring his ' Comparison of the Greek Philosophy with Christi- 
 anity.' Feeble as he had become, he did not remit his dili- 
 gence. " To give some idea," says his son, " of the exer- 
 tions he made even at this time, it is only necessary for me to 
 say, that besides his miscellaneous reading, which was at all 
 times very great, he read through all the works quoted in his 
 comparison of the different systems of the Grecian philoso- 
 phers with Christianity, composed that work, and transcribed 
 the whole of it, in less than three months. He took the pre- 
 caution of transcribing one day in long hand, what he had 
 composed the day before in short hand, that he might by that 
 means leave the work complete as far as it went, should he 
 not live to complete the whole. During this period, he com- 
 posed in a day his second reply to Dr. Linn." 
 
 The remainder of the history must be given in his son's 
 own words. 
 
 " In the last fortnight in January [1804] he was troubled 
 with alarming fits of indigestion ; his legs swelled nearly to his 
 knees, and his weakness increased very much. I wrote for 
 him, while he dictated, the concluding section of his " New 
 Comparison," and the Preface and Dedication. The finish- 
 ing this work was a source of great satisfaction to him, as he 
 considered it as a work of as much consequence as any he 
 had ever undertaken. The first alarming symptom of ap- 
 proaching dissolution, was his being unable to speak to me 
 upon my entering his room, on Tuesday morning, the 31st of 
 January. In his diary I find he stated his situation as fol* 
 lows : ' 111 all day — not able to speak for nearly three hours.' 
 When he was able to speak, he told me he had slept well (as he 
 uniformly had done through the whole of his illness ; so that 
 he never would suffer me, though I frequently requested he 
 would do it, to sleep in the same room with him) that he feJt 
 
Ixviii MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. 
 
 as well as possible ; that he got up and shaved himself (which 
 he never omitted doing every morning, till within two days of 
 his death) ; that he went to his laboratory, and then found 
 his weakness very great ; that he got back with difficulty ; that 
 just afterward his granddaughter, a child of about six or seven 
 years old, came to him to claim the fulfilment of a promise 
 he had made her the evening before, to give her a five-penny 
 bit. He gave her the money, and was going to speak to her, 
 but found himself unable. He informed me of this, speaking 
 very slowly a word at a time ; and added, that he had never 
 felt more pleasantly in his whole life, than he did during the 
 time he was unable to speak. After he had taken his medi- 
 cine, which was bark and laudanum, and drank a bason of 
 strong mutton broth, he recovered surprisingly, and talked 
 with cheerfulness to all who called upon him, but as though 
 he was fully sensible that he had not long to live. He con- 
 sented for the first time that I should sleep in the room with 
 him. 
 
 On Wednesday, February 1 , he writes, ' I was at times 
 much better in the morning : capable of some business : 
 continued better all day.' He spake this morning as strong as 
 usual, and took in the course of the day a good deal of nour- 
 ishment with pleasure. He said, that he felt a return of 
 strength, and with it there was a duty to perform. He read 
 a good deal in ' Newcome's Translation of the New Testa- 
 ment,' and ' Stevens's History of tlie War.' In the afternoon 
 he gave mo some directions how to proceed with the printing 
 his work, in case he should die. He gave me directions to 
 stop the printing of the second volume, and to begin upon the 
 third, that he might see how it was begun, and that it might 
 serve as a pattern to me to proceed by. 
 
 On Thursday, the 2d, he wrote thus for the last time in his 
 diary : ' Much worse : incapable of business : Mr. Kennedy 
 came to receive instructions about printing, in case of my 
 death.' He sat up, however, a great part of the day,, was 
 cheerful, and gave Mr. Cooper and myself some directions. 
 
MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. txiX 
 
 with the same composure as though he had only been about 
 to leave home for a short time. Though it was fatiguing to 
 him to talk, he read a good deal in the works above men- 
 tioned. 
 
 On Friday he was much better. He sat up a good part of 
 the day reading ' Newcome ; ' * Dr. Disney's Translation of 
 the Psalms ; ' and some chapters in the ' Greek Testament,' 
 which was his daily practice. He corrected a proof sheet of 
 the ' Notes on Isaiah." When he went to bed he was not 
 so well ; he had an idea he should not live another day. At 
 prayer-time he wished to have the children kneel by his bed- 
 side, saying it gave him great pleasure to see the little things 
 kneel ; and, thinking he possibly might not see them again, 
 he gave them his blessing. 
 
 On Saturday, the 4th, my father got up for about an hour 
 while his bed was made. He said he felt more comfortable 
 in bed than up. He read a good deal, and looked over 
 the first sheet of the third volume of the ' Notes,' that he 
 might see how we were likely to go on with it ; and having 
 examined the Greek and Hebrew quotations, a.nd finding 
 them right, he said he was satisfied we should finish the work 
 very well. In the course of the day he expressed his grati- 
 tude in being permitted to die quietly in his family, without 
 pain, with every convenience and comfort he could wish for. 
 He dwelt upon the peculiarly happy situation in which it had 
 pleased the Divine Being to place him in life ; and the great 
 advantage he had enjoyed in the acquaintance and friendship 
 of some of the best and wisest men in the age in which he 
 lived, and the satisfaction he derived from having led an use- 
 ful as well as a happy life. 
 
 On Sunday he was much weaker, and only sat up in an 
 armed chair while his bed was made. He desired me to read 
 to him the eleventh chapter of John. I was going on to read 
 to the end of the chapter, but he stopped me at the fortyfifth 
 verse. He dwelt for some time on the advantage he had de- 
 rived from reading the scriptures daily, and advised me to do 
 
IXX MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. 
 
 the same ; saying, that it would prove to me, as it had done 
 to him, a source of the purest pleasure. He desired me to 
 reach him a pamphlet which was at his bed's head, ' Simp- 
 son on the Duration of Future Punihment.' — ' It will be a 
 source of satisfaction to you to read that pamphlet,' said he, 
 giving it to me, ' it contains my sentiments, and a belief in 
 them will be a support to you in the most trying circum- 
 stances, as it has been to me. We shall all meet finally ; we 
 only require different degrees of discipline, suited to our differ- 
 ent tempers, to prepare us for final happiness.' Upon Mr. 
 
 coming into his room, he said, ' You see, Sir, I am still 
 
 living.' Mr. observed, he would always live. ' Yes,' 
 
 said he, ' I believe I shall ; and we shall all meet again in 
 another and a better world.' He said this with great ani- 
 mation, laying hold on Mr. 's hand in both his. 
 
 Before prayers he desired me to reach him three publica- 
 tions, about which he would give me some directions next 
 morning. His weakness would not permit him to do it at 
 that time. 
 
 At prayers he had all the children brought to his bedside 
 as before. After prayers they wished him a good night, and 
 were leaving the room. He desired them to stay, spoke to 
 them each separately. He exhorted them all to continue to 
 love each other. 'And you, little thing,' speaking to 
 Eliza, ' remember the hymn you learned ; " Birds in their lit- 
 tle nests agree," &c. I am going to sleep as well as you : 
 for death is only a good, long, sound sleep in the grave, and 
 we shall meet again.' He congratulated us on the dis- 
 positions of our children ; said it was a satisfaction to see 
 them likely to turn out well ; and continued for some time to 
 express his confidence in a happy immortality, and in a 
 future state, which would afford us an ample field for the exer- 
 tion of our faculties. 
 
 On Monday morning, the sixth of February, after having 
 lain perfectly still till four o'clock in the morning, he called 
 to me, but in a fainter tone than usual, to give him some 
 
MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. Ixxi 
 
 wine and tincture of bark. I asked him how he felt. He 
 answered he had no pain, but appeared fainting away gradu- 
 ally. About an hour after, he asked me for some chicken- 
 broth, of which he took a tea-cup full. His pulse was quick, 
 weak, and fluttering, his breathing, though easy, short. 
 About eight o'clock, he asked me to give him some egg 
 and wine. After this he lay quite still till ten o'clock, when 
 he desired me and Mr. Cooper to bring him the pamphlets we 
 had looked out the evening before. He then dictated as 
 clearly and distinctly as he had ever done in his life, the ad- 
 ditions and alterations he wished to have made in each. 
 Mr. Cooper took down the substance of what he said, which, 
 when he had done, I read to him. He said Mr. Cooper had 
 put it in his own language ; he wished it to be put in his. I 
 then took a pen ^and ink to his bed-side. He then repeated 
 over again, nearly word for word, what he had before said : 
 and when I had done, I read it over to him. He said, ' That 
 is right ; I have now done.' About half an hour after, he de- 
 sired, in a faint voice, that we would move him from the bed 
 on which he lay to a cot, that he might lie with his lower 
 limbs horizontal, and his head upright. He died in about 
 ten minutes after we had moved him, but breathed his last so 
 easy, that neither myself or my wife, who were both sitting 
 close to him, perceived it at the time. He had put his hand 
 to his face, which prevented our observing it." 
 
 It is not intended elaborately to draw the character of 
 Dr. Priestley. This is sufficiently disclosed in the narrative of 
 his life and by the tone of his writings. They show that he 
 was a man of various talents, and indefatigable industry in 
 the use of them. His theological and miscellaneous writings 
 have been collected in twenty-four large octavo volumes, and 
 his other works would nearly equal these in quantity. The 
 whole number of his publications exceeded one hundred and 
 thirty. He was enabled to effect so much by strict habits of 
 method and a great facility in labor ; which enabled him, 
 though accomplishing more than most men, to have as much 
 
Ixxii 
 
 MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. 
 
 leisure as any. His remarkable rapidity in thinking and 
 writing was undoubtedly a snare to him, as it sometimes be- 
 trayed him into carelessness and error, though the instances of 
 this are certainly far fewer than has been sometimes repre- 
 sented. His favorite subjects of study were those of natural phi- 
 losophy, especially chemistry, and revealed religion. In the 
 former, he was a great discoverer, and has been called the Fa- 
 ther of modern chemistry. To the latter he applied himself with 
 an earnest faith and devoted attachment, which increased as he 
 advanced in life, and which displayed itself in perpetual efforts 
 to make known its evidences and to advance its interests. 
 When one perceives how this was the object nearest his heart, 
 and how much of his time and labor was occupied in writing 
 and publishing against infidelity, he cannot but feel amazed 
 and mortified at that violence of theological party spirit which 
 classes this defender of the faith with unbelievers. His peculiar 
 views of Christianity were undoubtedly very far from agreeing 
 with those which generally prevail, and they were oftentimes 
 expressed in bold and unmeasured language, adapted to 
 shock prejudice rather than to conciliate and convince. This 
 was his fault ; from which both his reputation and his princi- 
 ples have suffered. But it grew out of that frankness and 
 simplicity which so eminently distinguished him, and which 
 made him to his friends the object of such confidence and 
 attachment. Simple as a child, he knew no disguise; he ex- 
 posed himself naked, unguarded, heedless, to all alike, not 
 weighing words or calculating consequences, but uttering 
 whatever lay in his thought at the moment in the first words 
 that occurred to him. There was something in this childlike, 
 confidential, unsuspicious mode of intercourse extremely win- 
 ning to those who were intimately associated with him ; and, in 
 connexion with his cheerfulness, equanimity, and gentleness, 
 it made him an object of the deepest and most enthusiastic 
 attachment. Few have ever had warmer friends. But it 
 obviously exposed him to misapprehension and cavil from 
 those who knew him not, and who regarded his opinions with 
 
MEMOIR OP DR. PRIESTLEY. Ixxiii 
 
 aversion. They put a wrong construction upon it and were 
 exasperated by it ; and they have signally punished him for 
 it, by culling from his works a quantity of his hasty and rash 
 expressions, and publishing them to the world as the delib- 
 erate judgments of those who adopt liberal opinions in re- 
 ligion. And as he was equally undisguised and unwary in 
 his remarks on the faults of his own friends, they have not 
 failed to triumph in what they regard as his testimony to the 
 evil consequences of his religious system. These citations 
 from his works, not very numerous after all, have been copied 
 from one writer to another, till they have become a sort of 
 stock-in-trade in controversy, and may be expected to appear 
 as a matter of course in every new writer whose purpose is to 
 cast obloquy on Unitarian views. 
 
 Certainly there are some of his speculations and modes of 
 speculating, there is much in his hastiness and something in 
 his offensiveness, which are not to be imitated or approved. 
 But, alas, how few controversial writers have a right to cast 
 the first stone ! and he certainly is not to be judged for this 
 fault without reference to his known disposition and charac- 
 ter. And respecting these, as they appeared in ordinary and 
 private life, there is but one testimony. Those who least 
 favored his theological opinions were among the first to 
 acknowledge and honor his worth as a man. Robert Hall, 
 as remarkable for his hearty abuse of Unitarianism as for his 
 talents and eloquence, could not withhold his eulogy of the 
 character of Priestley.* " The religious tenets of Dr. Priest- 
 ley appear to me erroneous in the extreme ; but I should 
 be sorry to suffer any difference of sentiment to diminish my 
 sensibility to virtue or my admiration of genius. From him 
 the poisoned arrow will fall harmless." — " Distinguished 
 merit will ever rise superior to oppression, and draw lustre 
 from reproach." 
 
 The language of the celebrated and learned Dr. Parr was 
 
 * See also above, p. xxxvii. 
 
Ixxiv MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. 
 
 equally strong. " Let Dr. Priestley," he says, " be confuted 
 where he is mistaken ; let him be exposed where he is super- 
 ficial ; let him be repressed where he is dogmatical ; let him 
 be rebuked where he is censorious. But let not his attain- 
 ments be depreciated — because they are numerous, almost 
 without a parallel. Let not his talents be ridiculed — be- 
 cause they are superlatively great. Let not his morals be 
 vilified — because they are correct without austerity, and 
 exemplary without ostentation — because they present, even 
 to common observers, the innocence of a hermit, and the sim- 
 plicity of a patriarch ; and because a philosophic eye will at 
 once discover in them the deep fixed root of virtuous princi- 
 ple, and the solid trunk of virtuous habit." 
 
 Indeed such was the influence of his character, that the 
 strongest prejudices gave way on a personal acquaintance, 
 and were changed to affection and respect. A gentleman 
 of Philadelphia who knew him well, has recorded the two fol- 
 lowing anecdotes.* 
 
 " The first of these anecdotes," he says, " was related to 
 me a very few years ago by the late Rev. William Rogers^ 
 D. D., a Baptist minister, whose sentiments were highly 
 Calvinistic, but who was strongly attached to Dr. Priestley, 
 and took pleasure in cultivating his acquaintance. The 
 doctor, when in Philadelphia, would occasionally call on 
 Dr. Rogers, and without any formal invitation pass an evening 
 at his house. One afternoon he was there when Dr. Rogers 
 was not at home, having been assured by Mrs. Rogers that 
 
 her husband would soon be there. Meanwhile, Mr. , a 
 
 Baptist minister called, and being a person of rough manners, 
 Mrs. Rogers was a good deal concerned lest he should say 
 something disrespectful to Dr. Priestley in case she introduced 
 the Doctor to him. At last, however, she ventured to an- 
 nounce Dr. Priestley's name, who put out his hand ; but 
 
 * Mr. James Taylor. See Rutt's Life and Correspondence of 
 Priestley, Vol. II. 2G4, 343. 
 
MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEif. IxXV 
 
 instead of taking it, the other immediately drew himself back, 
 saying, as if astonished to meet with Dr. Priestley in the 
 house of one of his brethren, and afraid of being contaminated 
 by having any social intercourse with him, ' Dr. Joseph 
 Priestley ! I can't be cordial.' 
 
 It is easy to imagine that by this speech Mrs. Rogers was 
 greatly embarrassed. Dr. Priestley observing this, instantly 
 relieved her by saying, and with all that benevolent expression 
 of countenance and pleasantness of manner for which he was 
 remarkable, ' Well, well, Madam, you and I can be cordial ; 
 
 and as Dr. Rogers will be soon with us, Mr. and he 
 
 can converse together, so that we shall all be very com- 
 fortable.' Thus encouraged, Mrs. Rogers asked Dr. Priestley 
 some questions relative to the Scripture prophecies, to which 
 he made suitable replies; and before Dr. Rogers arrived, 
 
 Mr, was listening with much attention, sometimes 
 
 making a remark, or putting a question. The evening was 
 passed in the greatest harmony, with no inclination on the 
 
 part of Mr. to terminate the conversation. At last 
 
 Dr. Priestley, pulling out his watch, informed Mr. that 
 
 as it was ten o'clock, it was time that two old men like 
 them were at their quarters. The other at first was not 
 willing to believe that Dr. Priestley's watch was accurate ; 
 but finding that it was correct, he took his leave with apparent 
 regret, observing, that he had never spent a shorter and more 
 pleasant evening. He then went away, Dr. Priestley accom- 
 panying him until it became necessary to separate. Next 
 morning he called on his friend Dr. Rogers, when he made 
 the following frank and manly declaration : ' You and I well 
 know that Dr. Priestley is quite wrong in regard to his the- 
 ology ; but, notwithstanding this, he is a great and good 
 man, and I behaved to him at our first coming together like 
 a fool and a brute.' " 
 
 " A gentleman of New York, of excellent understanding, 
 but a confirmed Calvinist, with whom I was in habits of 
 friendly intercourse, although he had never seen Dr. Priest- 
 
IxXVi V MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. 
 
 ley, would frequently speak of him as a person of no vital 
 religion, and as one with whom he would not choose to be- 
 come intimately acquainted. Having occasion to visit Phil- 
 adelphia, he called on me immediately on his arrival. Dr. 
 Priestley was spending the afternoon with me, and my friend 
 being seated next to the doctor, seemed so much engaged in 
 conversation with him, that he had little to say to any one 
 else. On taking his leave, to my astonishment he exclaimed, 
 ' Who is that delightful old gentleman I have been convers- 
 ing with 1 ' for when introduced he had not attended to the 
 name. As I naturally concluded that the bare mention of 
 this would instantly destroy the charm, I was in no haste to 
 gratify his curiosity ; but when the question was repeated 
 and answered, he replied, with his usual frankness, ' All 
 that I have formerly said respecting Dr. Priestley is nonsense. 
 I have now seen him for myself, and, remember, I will never 
 forgive you if you do not put me in the way of seeing more of 
 him.' 
 
 At Philadelphia, Dr. Priestley's name is often mentioned 
 with admiration and warm feeling by those who knew his 
 worth, and who, notwithstanding their difference of religious 
 belief, courted his society, and cultivated iiis friendship. A 
 very few years ago, when a young popular preacher spoke of 
 Dr. Priestley in the pulpit as similar to Hume and Voltaire, 
 the injustice of the comparison was openly complained of by 
 many worthy persons of different denominations, who were 
 old enough to remember with what ability and effect Dr. 
 Priestley had pleaded the cause of divine revelation at Phila- 
 delphia, particularly in those discourses delivered in 1796." 
 
 Mr. W. Matthews, who was persuaded one Sunday after- 
 noon to accompany a friend to Dr. Priestley's chapel in Bir- 
 mingham, has told us what became of his previous impres- 
 sions respecting him. He had been accustomed to hear him 
 preached against as " a demon of heresy," " a proud and 
 haughty scorner." 
 
 " When we entered the place," he says, "we found a man 
 
MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. Ixxvil 
 
 of about the middle stature, slenderly made, remarkably placid, 
 modest, and courteous, pouring out, with the simplicity of a 
 child, the great stores of his most capacious mind to a con- 
 siderable number of young persons of both sexes ; whom, 
 with the familiarity and kindness of a friend, he encouraged 
 to ask him questions, either during the lecture or after it, if 
 he advanced any thing which wanted explanation, or struck 
 them in a light different from his own. The impression 
 made upon us was so strong, that we never failed afterwards 
 to attend on such occasions in order to profit by his lessons, 
 and we frequently went to hear him preach, until he was 
 driven from the town in 1791. 
 
 His lectures were peculiarly instructive, and the general 
 tenor of his sermons was practical, urging to the cultivation 
 of universal benevolence, the earnest pursuit of knowledge, 
 and the most unrestrained free inquiry upon all important 
 subjects. He was the most unassuming, candid man I ever 
 knew ; and never did I hear from his lips, either in lecture 
 or sermon, one illiberal sentiment, or one harsh expression 
 concerning any persons who differed from him, not even of 
 the individuals who were so much in the practice of abusing- 
 him and traducing his character." 
 
 " My acquaintance with Dr. Priestley," says Mr. Taylor, 
 in a letter recently received, " commenced early in 1797 ; 
 it soon became intimate, and, during his subsequent vis- 
 its to Philadelphia, in 1801 and 1803, I enjoyed much of 
 his company. He was easy of access, and his conversation 
 was peculiarly attractive. He was neither reserved nor 
 talkative. Although his stores of knowledge were uncom- 
 monly great, he made no display of his attainments ; yet, 
 when called on, he was never unwilling to contribute his 
 share to the entertainment or instruction of those with 
 whom he was associated. He exacted neither homage nor 
 deference ; it seemed as if he was utterly unconscious of 
 having risen far above the common level. The expression of 
 his countenance was that of sedateness and benignity, and 
 
IXXX MEMOIR OF DR. PRIESTLEY. 
 
 the eulogy of a friend, or the censures of an enemy, or even 
 the delineation of an impartial witness. We know him only 
 from our own observation. It is the object of these pages to 
 present the subject of them to the observation of men. Here 
 he may be fairly seen. No man is more exactly discerned in 
 his writings than Dr. Priestley. As one of his respectful and 
 admiring opponents, Toplady, said of him, " He is like a 
 piece of crystal, which one can take up in his hand and look 
 through." His works show him as he is, without disguise. 
 And as our object is not to eulogize indiscriminately an im- 
 perfect man any more than to join an indiscriminate outcry 
 against him ; but simply to do an act of common justice by 
 putting in a fair light the virtues of his extraordinary life ; we 
 are satisfied that the method here pursued is the most faith- 
 ful, as it certainly must be the most interesting. 
 
VIEWS 
 
 OF 
 
 CHRISTIAN TRUTH, PIETY, AND 
 MORALITY. 
 
 THE DUTY OF NOT LIVING TO OURSELVES. 
 
 A SERMON. 
 
 Romans, xiv. 7. 
 For none of us liveth to himself, and no man dieth to himself. 
 
 It is the excellence of our rational nature, that by it we are 
 capable of living to some known end, and of governing our 
 lives and conduct by some rule ; whereas brute creatures 
 necessarily live and act at random, just as the present appe- 
 tite influences them. Let us, then, my brethren, make the 
 most of this our prerogative, by proposing to ourselves the 
 noblest end of human life, and engaging in such a course of 
 actions as will reflect the greatest honor upon our nature, and 
 be productive of the most solid and lasting happiness, both in 
 the performance and the review of them. 
 
 Agreeably to this, let the principal use we make of our 
 understanding be, to discover what the great end of life is ; 
 1 
 
» THE DUTY OF NOT LIVING TO OURSELVES. 
 
 and then let us use the resolution and fortitude that is either 
 natural to us, or acquired by us, in steadily conforming our- 
 selves to it. 
 
 But, as the regular investigation of the rule of life from the 
 light of nature only, may be tedious, and perhaps at last 
 unsatisfactory ; let us, without waiting for the result of such 
 an inquiry upon the principles of reason, take a more clear 
 and sure guide, the Ploly Scriptures, in so important a subject, 
 and see afterwards whether reason and experience will not 
 give their sanction to that decision. 
 
 The great end of human life is negatively expressed by 
 the apostle Paul in my text, " None of us liveth to himself, 
 and no man dieth to himself; " and if we attend to the con- 
 nexion of these words, we shall find what, in the apostle's 
 idea, is the true end to which men ought to live. 
 
 The apostle is here treating of a controversy which had 
 arisen in the Christian church, about the lawfulness of eating 
 meat sacrificed to idols, and keeping holy certain days, 
 together with some other ceremonious observances, and ex- 
 horting both parties to do nothing that might give offence, or 
 be a snare to the other, lest, by their means, any one should 
 perish for whom Christ died. 
 
 As the best foundation for mutual tenderness and charity, 
 he reminds them that both parties acted, with regard to all 
 ritual observances, as they imagined was the will of Christ. 
 "He that observeth a day, observeth it to the Lord; and he 
 that observeth not a day, to the Lord he observeth it not." 
 And after giving his sanction in the fullest manner to this 
 maxim, and deciding, with respect to this particular case, 
 that all Christians ought to act according to the will of 
 Christ, and consult the good and the peace of their fellow- 
 Christians ; he declares in general, that " no man liveth to 
 himself, and no man dieth to himself; but whether we live, 
 we live unto the Lord, or whether we die, we die unto the 
 Lord ; " that is, in all our actions, our views sliould not be 
 directed to ourselves, but to the interest of our holy religion. 
 
THE DUTY OF NOT LIVING TO OURSELVES. 6 
 
 And as the Christian religion has for its object the happiness 
 of mankind, (since Christ cime to bless us in turning us 
 away from our iniquities,) it is the same thing as if he had 
 said, The great scope of all our conduct should be the real 
 welfare of ail to whom our influence can extend. 
 
 We should, therefore, my brethren, according to this apos- 
 tolical maxim, by no means confine our regards to ourselves, 
 and have our own pleasure, profit, or advantage in view in 
 every thing we undertake ; but look out of, and beyond our- 
 selves, and take a generous concern in the happiness of all 
 our brethren of mankind ; make their sorrows our sorrows, 
 their joys our joys, and their happiness our pursuit : and it is 
 in this disinterested conduct, and in this only, that we shall 
 find our own true happiness. 
 
 That this is the true rule of human life, will appear, 
 whether wc consider the course of nature witliout us, the 
 situation of mankind in this world, or take a nearer view of 
 the principles of human nature. And we shall likewise find 
 that several considerations, drawn from the Holy Scriptures, 
 will farther confirm and illustrate this maxim of human con- 
 duct, which was first suggested by them. 
 
 1. This disinterested conduct of man is most agreeable to 
 the course of nature without us. There is no part of the 
 creation but, if it be viewed attentively, will expose the sel- 
 fishness and narrow-mindedness of men : for among all that 
 infinite variety of things and creatures which present them- 
 selves to our view, not one of them appears to have been 
 made merely for itself, but every thing bears a relation to 
 something else. They can hardly be said to aflbrd any 
 matter for contemplation singly, and are most of all the objects 
 of our admiration when considered as connected with other 
 things. The primary uses of things are few, butthe secondary 
 uses of every thing are almost infinite. Indeed, the secondary 
 uses of things are so many that we are lost in the multiplicity 
 of them ; whereas we can give no answer, if we be asked 
 what is the primary use of any thing, but this general one, 
 
4 THE BUTY OF NOT LIVING TO OURSELVES. 
 
 vi^hich will equally suit every thing, — that every creature 
 which is capable of happiness, was made to enjoy that share 
 of it which is suited to its nature. 
 
 Now what do we mean when we say that the several parts 
 of nature are adapted to one another, but that they are made 
 for the use of one another ? I shall mention only a few of 
 these mutual relations and uses ; beginning with those parts 
 of nature which are the most remote from one another, and 
 whose mutual relations and uses are the least obvious, and so 
 proceed to those in which they are more obvious. The sun, 
 the moon, the planets, and comets, are strictly connected, and 
 combined into one system. Each body, though so exceed- 
 ingly remote from the rest, is admirably adapted, by its situa- 
 tion, magnitude, and velocity in its orbit, to the state of the 
 whole, in those respects and many others. This connexion, 
 probably, also extends to the remotest bodies in the universe ; 
 so that it is impossible to say that the withdrawing of any one 
 would not, in some respect or other, affect all the rest. 
 
 The clouds and the rain are designed to moisten the earth, 
 and the sun to warm it ; and the texture and juices of the 
 earth are formed so as to receive the genial influences of 
 both, in order to ripen and bring to perfection that infinite 
 variety of plants and fruits, the seeds of which are deposited 
 in it. Again, is not each plant peculiarly adapted to its 
 proper soil and climate, so that every country is furnished 
 with those productions which are peculiarly suited to it ? 
 Are not all plants likewise suited to the various kinds of ani- 
 mals which feed upon them ? So that, though they enjoy a 
 kind of life peculiar to themselves, and all the influences 
 they are exposed to are adapted to promote that life, they 
 themselves are as much adapted to maintain that higher kind 
 of life which is enjoyed by creatures of the animal nature. 
 
 The various kinds of animals are, again, in a thousand 
 ways adapted to, and formed for the use of, one another. 
 Beasts of a fiercer nature prey upon the tamer cattle : fishes 
 of a larger size live almost wholly upon those of a less : and 
 
THE DUTY OF NOT LIVING TO OURSELVES. 5 
 
 there are some birds which prey upon land animals, others 
 upon fishes, and others upon creatures of their own species. 
 
 That brute animals are excellently adapted to the use of 
 man, and were, therefore, made to be subservient to the use 
 of man, man will not deny. The strength of some, and the 
 sagacity of others, are as much at our command, and are as 
 effectually employed for our use, as if they belonged to our- 
 selves. We can even turn to our advantage every passion of 
 their nature, so that we can safely repose the greatest confi- 
 dence in many of them. They are the guardians of our pos- 
 sessions and of our lives. They even enter into our resent- 
 ments, and, at our instigation, take part in our revenge. 
 
 Having now advanced to man, the chief of this lower 
 creation, and shown that all creatures of the vegetable and 
 merely animal nature, live and die for his use, pride might 
 bid us here break off the chain of mutual relations and uses, 
 which we have been pursuing thus far, and leave man in the 
 enjoyment of his superiority ; but, — beside that it is contrary 
 to the analogy of nature, in which we see nothing but what 
 has innumerable secondary relations and uses, that man only 
 should be made for himself ; — 
 
 2. The situation of man in this world, or the external cir- 
 cumstances of human nature, still oblige us to assert with 
 Paul, that " no man liveth to himself, and no man dieth to 
 himself" Man himself is but a link, though the highest link 
 of this great chain, all the parts of which are closely con- 
 nected by the hand of our divine Author. Nay, the more 
 various and extensive are our powers, either for action or 
 enjoyment, on that very account, the more multiplied and 
 extensive are our wants ; so that, at the same time that they 
 are marks of our superiority to, they are bonds of our connexion 
 with, and signs of our dependence upon, the various parts of 
 the world around us, and of our subservience to one another. 
 
 In fact, every time that we gratify any of our senses, though 
 it be in consequence of the exertion of our own powers, 
 we are reminded (if we will be so just to ourselves as to take 
 
b THE DUTY OF NOT LIVING TO OURSELVES. 
 
 the hint) of our dependence upon something without us ; for 
 the means of our gratification are, in all cases, evidently 
 without ourselves. 
 
 If we be served by the vegetables and the animals which 
 this earth affords, we are obliged, in our turn, to favor their 
 propagation, to promote their cultivation, and to preserve 
 them in a healthy and vigorous state ; and employment of 
 this kind doth, in fact, take up a great part of our attention 
 and labor. We must make the creature in some measure 
 happy, if we would be effectually served by it. And the 
 attention which domestic animals give to us, and their anxiety 
 for us, is not to be compared to the attention we bestow on 
 them, and the anxiety we undergo on their account. 
 
 But my subject leads me to attend to the connexion which 
 man has with man, rather than with the inferior part of the 
 creation, though it seemed not improper to point out that. 
 In general, nothing can be more obvious than the mutual 
 dependence of men on one another. We see it in the most 
 barbarous countries, where the connexions of mankind are 
 the fewest and the slightest. This dependence is more sen- 
 sible, indeed, in a state of infancy, when the least remission 
 of the care of others would be fatal to us ; but it is as real 
 and necessary, and even vastly more extensive, though less 
 striking, when we are more advanced in life, especially in 
 civilized countries. And the more perfect is the state of civil 
 society, the more various and extended are the connexions 
 which man has with man, and the less able is he to subsist 
 comfortably without the help of others. 
 
 The business of human life, where it is enjoyed in per- 
 fection, is subdivided into so many parts, (each of which is 
 executed by different hands,) that a person who would reap 
 the benefit of all the arts of life in perfection, must employ, 
 and consequently be dependent upon, thousands ; he must 
 even be under obligations to numbers of whom he has not 
 the least knowledge. 
 
 These connexions of man witli n»an are every day growing 
 
THE DUTY OF NOT LIVING TO OURSELVES. 7 
 
 more extensive. The most distant parts of the earth are now- 
 connected : every part is every day growing still more neces- 
 sary to every other part ; and the nearer advances we make to 
 general happiness, and the more commodious our circum- 
 stances in this world are made for us, the more intimately and 
 extensively we become connected with, and the more closely 
 we are dependent upon, one another. 
 
 By thus tracing the progress of man to that state of happi- 
 ness which he now enjoys, we may be led to think that, in 
 pursuing it still farther, to a more happy state of being, 
 adapted to our social natures, we shall find ourselves still 
 more variously and intimately connected with, and more 
 closely dependent upon one another ; which affords a far 
 nobler and more pleasing prospect to a person of an enlarged 
 mind and of a social and benevolent disposition, than he 
 could have from supposing that, after death, all our mutual 
 connexions will be broken, and that every good man will be 
 made transcendently happy within himself, having no inter- 
 course, or at least necessary intercourse, with any being be- 
 sides his Maker. 
 
 By these arguments, which are drawn from facts that are 
 obvious to every person who attends to the external circum- 
 stances of mankind, it is plain that no man can live of him- 
 self; and even that the rich are, in fact, more dependent 
 upon others than the poor; for, having more wants, they 
 have occasion for more and more frequent supplies. Now it 
 will easily be allowed, that every reason why we cannot live 
 of ourselves, is an argument why we ought not to live to 
 ourselves: for certainly no one receives an obligation, but he 
 ought to confer one. Every connexion must, in some measure, 
 be mutual. And, indeed, the circulation of good offices 
 would in a great measure cease, if the passage were not as 
 open and as free from obstruction, in one part of the common 
 channel as another. The rich, if they would receive the 
 greatest advantages from society, must contribute to the hap- 
 piness of it. If they act upon different maxims, and think to 
 
8 THE DUTY OF NOT LIVING TO OURSELVES. 
 
 avail themselves of the pleasures of society without promoting 
 the good of it, they wi-ll never know the true pleasures of 
 society. And, in the end, they will be found to have enjoyed 
 the least themselves, who have least contributed to the enjoy- 
 ment of others. 
 
 Thus it appears, from a view of the external circumstances 
 of mankind, that man was not made to live to himself The 
 same truth may be inferred, 
 
 3. From a nearer inspection of the principles of human 
 nature, and the springs of human actions. 
 
 If any man look into himself, and consider the springs and 
 motives of his own actions, he will find that there are prin- 
 ciples in his nature which would be of no use, were the inter- 
 course he has with his fellow-creatures cut off; for that, both 
 the efficient and the final causes of their operations are with- 
 out himself They are views of mankind and their situations, 
 which call those principles into action ; and if we trace the 
 operation of them, we shall clearly see that, though they be 
 strictly connected with private happiness, their ultimate and 
 proper object is the happiness of society. 
 
 What other account can we give of that impulse which we 
 all, more or less, feel for society? And whence is that rest- 
 less and painful dissatisfaction which a man feels when he is 
 long excluded from it, but that, in such a solitary condition, 
 his faculties have not their proper exercise, and he is, as it 
 were, out of his proper element ? 
 
 Whence is that quick sensibility which we are conscious 
 of, with respect to both the joys and the sorrows of our fellow- 
 creatures, if their happiness or misery were a matter of indif- 
 ference to us ? Can we feel what is sometimes called the 
 contagion of the passions, when we find that our minds 
 ontract a kind of gloom and heaviness in the company of the 
 melancholy, and that this melancholy vanishes in company 
 which is innocently cheerful, and question the influence 
 of social connexions ? Much less can the reality or the 
 power of the social principle be doubted when a fellow- 
 
THE DUTY OF NOT LIVING TO OURSELVES. 9 
 
 creature in distress calls forth the most exquisite feelings of 
 compassion, attended with instant and strong efforts towards 
 his relief. 
 
 So essential a part of our nature are these social passions, 
 that it is impossible for any man wholly to escape the influ- 
 ence of them ; but if we would be witness of their strongest 
 effects, and see them branched out into that beautiful subor- 
 dination which corresponds to all the varieties of our mutual 
 relations, we must look into domestic life. There we shall 
 clearly see that the most frequent and almost the only causes 
 of man's joys and sorrows are the joys and sorrows of others, 
 and that the immediate aim of all his actions is the well-being 
 and happiness of others. 
 
 Doth not the sense of honor in the human breast derive all 
 its force from the influence which social connexions have 
 over us ? Of what use could it be, but to beings formed for 
 society ? What do we infer from our dread of infamy, and 
 from our being so strongly actuated by a passion for fame, 
 and also from the universality and extent of this principle, 
 but that our nature obliges us to keep up a regard to others in 
 our whole conduct, and that the Author of nature intended we 
 should ? And is it not a farther evidence of the ultimate 
 design of this principle, that, in general, the means of being 
 distinguished, at least of gaining a solid and lasting reputa- 
 tion among men, is to be useful to mankind ; public utility 
 being the most direct road to true fame 1 
 
 Every noble and exalted faculty of our nature is either 
 directly of a social nature, or tends to strengthen the social 
 principle. Nothing can be more evident than that the dic- 
 tates of conscience strongly enforce the practice of benevo- 
 lence ; and the pleasures of benovolence certainly constitute 
 the greatest part of those pleasures which we refer to the 
 moral sense. They must necessarily do so, while the founda- 
 tion of all virtue and right conduct is the happiness of society ; 
 for then every reflection that we have done our duty, must be 
 the same thing as a reflection that we have contributed what 
 was in our power to the good of our fellow-creatures. 
 
10 THE DUTY OF NOT LIVING TO OURSELVES. 
 
 Lastly, of what doth devotion itself consist, but the exercise 
 of the social affections ? What are the dispositions of our 
 minds which are called forth into action in private or public 
 prayer, but reverence for true greatness, humility, gratitude, 
 love, and confidence in God, as the greatest and best of 
 beings ; qualities of the most admirable use and effect in 
 social life. 
 
 I may add, that not only are the highest and the worthiest 
 principles of human conduct either truly social, or a reinforce- 
 ment of the social principle, but even the lowest appetites 
 and passions of our nature are far from being indifferent to 
 social connexions, considerations, and influences. That the 
 pleasures we receive from the fine arts, as those of music, 
 poetry, and painting, and the like, are enjoyed but very im- 
 perfectly except in company, is very evident to all persons 
 who have the least taste for those pleasures. I may even 
 venture to say, that there is hardly a voluptuary, the most 
 devoted to the pleasures of the table, but indulges himself 
 with more satisfaction in company than alone. 
 
 Having given this general view of the social turn of our 
 whole natures, whereby we are continually led out of our- 
 selves in our pursuit of happiness ; I shall now consider far- 
 ther, how all our appetites and passions, which are the 
 springs of all our actions, do, in their own nature, tend to 
 lead us out of ourselves, and how much our happiness depends 
 upon our keeping their proper objects in view, and upon our 
 minds being thereby constantly engaged upon something for- 
 eign to themselves ; after which I shall show what are the 
 fittest objects thus to engage our attention. 
 
 In order to preserve mutual connexion, dependence, and 
 harmony among all his works, it has pleased our Divine 
 Author to appoint, that all our appetites and desires, to what- 
 ever sense, external or internal, they be referred, should 
 point to something beyond ourselves for their gratification ; so 
 that the idea of self is not in the least necessary to a state of 
 the highest enjoyment. 
 
THE DUTY OF NOT LIVING TO OURSELVES. 11 
 
 When may men be said to be happy, but when their facul- 
 ties are properly exercised in the pursuit of those things which 
 give them pleasure ? I say the pursuit rather than the enjoy- 
 ment, not because enjoyment makes no part of our happiness, 
 but because the vigorous and agreeable sensations with which 
 our minds are impressed during the pursuit of a favorite 
 object are generally, at least in this life, of vastly more con- 
 sideration. The pleasure we receive the instant we arrive at 
 the height of our wishes may be more exquisite, but the others 
 are of much longer continuance ; and, immediately upon the 
 gratification of any of our desires, the mind is instantly reach- 
 ing after some new object. 
 
 Supposing now the mind of any person to be fully and 
 constantly engaged in the pursuit of a proper object, to the 
 possession of which he is sensible he every day makes near 
 approaches, and his desires be not so eager as to make him 
 uneasy during the pursuit ; what more is requisite to make him 
 as happy as his nature can bear ? He will not be the less 
 happy because the object he is in pursuit of is foreign to him- 
 self; nor would it make him any happier to have the idea of 
 its contributing to his happiness. Nay, it may be shown, 
 that it were better for us in general, with respect to real 
 enjoyment, never to have the idea of the relation which the 
 objects of our pursuit bear to ourselves; and this is most of all 
 evident with respect to the higher pleasures of our nature, 
 from which we derive our greatest happiness. 
 
 Our benevolence, for instance, leads us immediately to 
 relieve and oblige others. Pleasure, indeed, always attends 
 generous actions, and is consequent upon them ; but the 
 satisfaction we receive in our minds from having done kind 
 offices to others, is far less pure, and less perfectly enjoyed, 
 if at all, when we had this, or any other private gratification, 
 in view before the action. 
 
 In like manner, he who courts applause, and does worthy 
 actions solely with a view to obtain it, can have no knowledge 
 of the genuine pleasure arising either from the good action 
 
12 THE DUTY OF NOT LIVING TO OURSELVES. 
 
 itself, or the applause that is given to it ; because he is sen- 
 sible, in his own mind, that if those persons who praise his 
 conduct were acquainted with the real motive of it, and 
 knew that he meant nothing more, by his pretended acts of 
 piety and benevolence, than to gain their applause, they 
 would be so far from admiring and commending, that they 
 would despise him for it. 
 
 It is evident, for the same reason, that no person can enjoy 
 the applause of his own mind on account of any action which 
 he did with a view to gain it. The pleasures of a good con- 
 science, or, as they are sometimes called, those of the moral 
 sense, can not be enjoyed but by a person who steadily 
 obeys the dictates of his conscience, and uniformly acts the 
 part which he thinks to be right, without any view to the 
 pleasure and self-satisfaction which may arise from it. 
 
 The idea of self, as it is not adapted to gratify any of 
 our appetites and can contribute nothing towards their gratifi- 
 cation, can only occasion anxiety, fear, and distrust about 
 our happiness, when it is frequently the subject of our 
 thoughts. The apprehension and dread of misery (which is 
 certainly the occasion of most of the real trouble and misery 
 of man in this life) is beyond measure increased from this 
 source ; and the effects of it are most sensibly felt both in 
 the lesser and greater scenes of our lives. 
 
 It is chiefly an anxious solicitude about ourselves, and 
 the appearance we shall make in the eyes of others, which 
 is the cause of that affectation and constraint in behaviour 
 which is so troublesome to a person's self, and so ridiculous 
 in the eyes of others. This trifling remark, being so fre- 
 quently verified, may serve to show that these sentiments are 
 by no means merely speculative ; but that they enter into 
 the daily scenes of active life. Indeed they are in the high- 
 est sense practical, and upon them depend those maxims of 
 conduct which contain the great secret of human happiness, 
 and which are confirmed by every day's experience. 
 
 That the idea of self, frequently occurring to our minds in 
 
THE DUTY OF NOT LIVING TO OURSELVES. 13 
 
 our pursuit of happiness, is often a real and great obstruction 
 to it, will be more obvious from a short series of plain facts 
 and examples, which I shall therefore mention. 
 
 Why are brute creatures, in general, so contented and 
 happy in their low sphere of life, and much more so than the 
 mind of man could be in their situation 1 Is it not because 
 their views are perpetually fixed upon some object within their 
 reach, adapted to their desires; and that the abstract idea 
 of self, together with the notion of their being in the pursuit 
 of happiness, and liable to be disappointed in that pursuit, 
 never comes in their way to interrupt the uniform and 
 pleasurable exertion of their faculties in the pursuit of their 
 proper objects? 
 
 The days of our infancy are happy for the same reason, 
 notwithstanding the imperfection of our faculties, and the 
 greater proportion of pains and disorders we are then liable 
 to. Those years of our lives slide away in unmixed enjoy- 
 ment, except when they are interrupted by the actual sensa- 
 tions of pain ; for we are then incapable of suifering any 
 thing from the fear of evil. It is not till after a considerable 
 time that we get the abstract idea of self; an idea which the 
 brutes, probably, never arrive at, and which is of excellent 
 use to us, as will be shown in its proper place, in our pursuit 
 of happiness ; but is often abused to the great increase of our 
 misery, as will appear by the facts we are now considering. 
 
 Why are persons, whose situation in life obliges them to 
 constant labor either of body or mind, generally more happy 
 than those whose circumstances do not lay them under a ne- 
 cessity to labor, and whose own inclination does not lead 
 them to it ; but because the former have their thoughts con- 
 stantly employed in the pursuit of some end, which keeps 
 their faculties awake and fully exerted 1 And this is always 
 attended with a state of vigorous, and consequently pleasur- 
 able, sensations. Persons thus employed have not much 
 leisure to attend to the idea of self, and that anxiety which 
 always attends the frequent recurring of it ; whereas, a per- 
 
14 THE DUTY OF NOT LIVING TO OURSELVES. 
 
 son who has no object foreign to himself, which constantly 
 and necessarily engages his attention, cannot have his facul- 
 ties fully exerted ; and therefore his mind cannot possibly be 
 in that state of vigorous sensation in which happiness consists. 
 The mind of such a person, having nothing without him 
 sufficient to engage its attention, turns upon itself. He feels 
 he is not happy, but he sees not the reason of it. This again 
 excites his wonder, vexation, and perplexity. He tries new 
 expedients : but as these are only temporary, and generally 
 whimsical choices, none of them have sufficient power'to fix 
 and confine his attention. He is still perpetually thinking 
 about himself, and wondering and uneasy that he is not 
 happy. This anxious, perplexed state of mind, affecting the 
 nervous system, necessarily occasions a more irritable state of 
 the nerves and of the brain, which makes the unhappy per- 
 son subject to more frequent alarms, to greater anxiety and 
 distress, than before ; till, these mental and bodily disorders 
 mutually increasing one another, his condition is at length 
 the most wretched and distressing that can be conceived. 
 No bodily pain, no rack, no torture, can equal the misery and 
 distress of a human being whose mind is thus a prey to itself. 
 No wonder that, in this situation, many persons wish the utter 
 extinction of their being, and often put a period to their lives. 
 
 This is certainly the most deplorable situation to which a 
 human being can be reduced in this world, and is doubly the 
 object of our compassion, when the disorder has its seat origi- 
 nally in the body, in such a manner as that no endeavours to 
 engage a man's thoughts upon other objects can force his at- 
 tention from himself 
 
 It is no wonder that we see more of this kind of unhappi- 
 ness in the higher ranks of life, and among persons who are 
 in what is called easy circumstances, than in any other. 
 Indeed, the case is hardly possible in any other than in easy 
 circumstances ; for, did a man's circumstances really find 
 constant employment for his thoughts, were his business so 
 urgent as to leave him no leisure for suspense and uncer- 
 
THE DUTY OF NOT LIVING TO OURSELVES. 15 
 
 tainty what to do, it is plain, from the preceding principles, 
 that such anxiety and distress could not take place. It is 
 well known that the mind suffers more in a state of uncer- 
 tainty and suspense, for want of some motive to determine a 
 man's choice, than he can suffer in the vigorous prosecution 
 of the most arduous undertaking. I appeal to men of leisure, 
 and particularly to persons who are naturally of an active and 
 enterprising disposition, for the truth of this fact. 
 
 These principles likewise, as is evident without entering 
 into a detail of particulars, furnish us with a good reason 
 why we generally see fathers and mothers of large families 
 infinitely more easy, cheerful, and happy than those persons 
 who have no family connexions. The greater affluence, ease, 
 and variety of pleasures which these can command, (subject 
 to the inconveniences I have mentioned, and which are com- 
 monly visible enough in the case I refer to,) are a poor equi- 
 valent for the necessary, constant, and vigorous exertion of 
 their faculties, and, consequently, the strong sensations and 
 lively enjoyments which a variety of family cares, conjugal 
 and parental tenderness, supply for the others. 
 
 This would be the case universally, where large families 
 could subsist, if the parents had sufficient employment, and 
 if an early-acquired taste for superfluities had not taken too 
 deep root in their minds. 
 
 Happy is it for the world, and a great mark of the wisdom 
 and goodness of Divine Providence, that men's minds are so 
 constituted, that tliough they be in easy circumstances, they 
 are never completely satisfied. The passions of most men 
 are still engaging them in a variety of pursuits, in which 
 they are as eager, and which they prosecute with as much 
 alacrity and earnestness, as if necessity compelled them to 
 it ; otherwise, every person who could live easy would be 
 inevitably miserable. 
 
 Infinitely happier would it be for themselves, and for the 
 world, if all their pursuits were such as would give them 
 satisfaction upon the reflection as well as in the pursuit, and 
 
16 THE DUTY OF NOT LIVING TO OURSELVES. 
 
 be of real advantage to the rest of mankind ; which two cir- 
 cumstances never fail to coincide. However, with regard to 
 a person's self in this life, any end is unspeakably better than 
 no end at all ; and such is the wise appointment of Provi- 
 dence, that bad ends tend in a variety of ways to check and 
 defeat themselves, and to throw the minds of men into better, 
 nobler, and more satisfactory pursuits ; a consideration which 
 cannot fail to suggest, to a benevolent and pious mind, a 
 prospect of a future happy and glorious state of things. 
 
 It may be said, that if happiness consist in or depend 
 upon the exertion of our faculties upon some object foreign 
 to ourselves, it is a matter of indifference what the object be. 
 I answer, that during the pursuit it is nearly so, and univer- 
 sal experience, I imagine, will justify the observation. This 
 is the reason why we see men equally eager, and equally 
 happy in the pursuit of a variety of things which appear 
 trifling to one another. Thus the florist, the medalist, the 
 critic, the antiquary, and every adept in the minuter branches 
 of science, all enjoy equal happiness in the pursuit of their 
 several objects; and as much as the historian, the astronomer, 
 the moralist, or the divine, who refers his nobler studies to no 
 higher end, and to whom they only serve as an exercise of his 
 faculties. 
 
 But though an eager pursuit tends to keep the mind in a 
 state of vigorous and lively sensation, that pursuit only can 
 give us the maximum, the highest possible degree of happi- 
 ness, which has the following characters : It must be at- 
 tended with the probability of success, consequently it must 
 be generally successful ; and it must also terminate in such 
 gratifications as are least inconsistent with themselves, or 
 with the other gratifications of which our nature makes 
 us capable. And it may be demonstrated (though I shall not 
 undertake to do it particularly in this place) that no pursuits 
 answer to this description but those in which the love of 
 mankind, the love of God, or the dictates of conscience, 
 engage us. 
 
THE DUTY OF NOT LIVING TO OURSELVES. 17 
 
 For in all other pursuits, such as those of sensual pleasure, 
 the pleasures of imagination and ambition, we are liable to 
 frequent disappointments ; the gratifications in which they 
 terminate are inconsistent with themselves, and with each 
 other; and they almost entirely deaden and disqualify the 
 mind for the nobler pleasures of our nature. It is the love 
 of God, the love of mankind, and a sense of duty, which en- 
 gage the minds of men in the noblest of all pursuits. By 
 these we are carried on with increasing alacrity and satisfac- 
 tion. Even the pains and distresses in which we involve 
 ourselves by these courses are preferable to the pleasures at- 
 tending the gratification of our lower appetites. 
 
 Besides, these noble pursuits, generally at least, allow us 
 even more of the lower gratifications of our nature than can 
 be obtained by a direct pursuit of them ; for a little expe- 
 rience will inform us, that we receive the most pleasure from 
 these lower appetites of our nature, as well as from the high- 
 est sources of pleasure we are capable of, when we have their 
 gratification least of all in view. There can be no doubt, 
 for instance, but that the laborer who eats and drinks merely 
 to satisfy the calls of hunger and thirst, has vastly more pleas- 
 ure in eating and drinking, than the epicure who studies the 
 pleasing of his palate. 
 
 They are the pleasures of benevolence and piety which 
 most effectually carry us out of ourselves ; whereas every 
 other inferior pursuit suggests to us, in a thousand respects, 
 the idea of self, the unseasonable intervention of which may 
 be called the worm which lies at the root of all human bliss. 
 And never can we be completely happy till we " love the Lord 
 our God with all our heart, with all our soul, with all our 
 strength, and our neighbour as ourselves." 
 
 This is the Christian self-annihilation, and a state of the 
 most complete happiness to which our natures can attain : 
 when, without having the least idea of being in the pursuit 
 of our own happiness, our faculties are wholly absorbed in 
 those noble and exalted pursuits in which we are sure not 
 
18 THE DUTY OF NOT LIVING TO OURSELyES. 
 
 to be finally disappointed, and in the course of which we 
 enjoy all the consistent pleasures of our whole nature. When 
 rejoicing with all that rejoice, weeping with all that weep, 
 and intimately associating the idea of God, the Maker of all 
 things, our father and our friend, with all the works of his 
 hands, and all the dispensations of his providence, we con- 
 stantly triumph in the comfortable sense of the Divine pres- 
 ence and approbation, and in the transporting prospect of 
 advancing every day nearer to the accomplishment of his 
 glorious purposes for the liappiness of liis creatures. 
 
 If this be the proper and supreme happiness of man, it 
 may be asked of what use is the principle of self-interest ? I 
 answer, that though an attention to it be inconsistent with 
 pure, unmixed happiness, yet a moderate attention to it is of 
 excellent use in our progress towards it. It serves as a scaf- 
 fold to a noble and glorious edifice, though it be unworthy of 
 standing as any part of it. It is of more particular use to 
 check and restrain the indulgence of our lower appetites and 
 passions, before other objects and motives have acquired a 
 sufficient power over us. But though we ought, therefore, to 
 exhort those persons who are immersed in sensuality and gross 
 vices, to abandon those indulgencies out of a regard to their 
 true interest, it is advisable to withdraw this motive by de- 
 grees. However, as we shall never arrive at absolute perfec- 
 tion, we necessarily must, and indeed ought to be influenced 
 by it, more or less, through the whole course of our existence, 
 only less and less perpetually. 
 
 The principle of self-interest may be regarded as a medium 
 between the lower and the higher principles of our nature, 
 and, therefore, of principal use in our transition, as we may 
 call it, from an imperfect to a more perfect state. 
 
 Perhaps the following view of this subject may be the 
 easiest to us : A regard to our greatest happiness must ne- 
 cessarily govern our conduct with respect to all those virtues 
 which are termed private virtues, as temperance, chastity, 
 and every branch of self-government; but it always does 
 
THE DUTY OF NOT LIVING TO OURSELVES. 19 
 
 harm as a motive to the social virtues. When, therefore, 
 self-government, which is our first step towards happiness, 
 is established, we ought to endeavour to excite men to ac- 
 tion by higher and nobler motives ; for, with regard to all 
 those virtues, the ultimate object of which is not private hap- 
 piness, an attention to self-interest is of manifest prejudice 
 to us, and this through the whole course of our lives, imper- 
 fect as we are, and as much occasion as we have for every 
 effectual motive to virtue. 
 
 We are now come, in the last place, to see what considera- 
 tions, drawn from the Holy Scriptures, will farther confirm 
 and illustrate this maxim of human conduct, which was first 
 suggested by them. 
 
 That the Scriptures join the voice of all nature around us, 
 informing man that he is not made for himself; that they in- 
 culcate the same lesson which we learn both from a view of 
 the external circumstances of mankind, and also from a 
 nearer inspection of the principles of human nature ; will be 
 evident, whether we consider the object of the religion they 
 exhibit, (that is, the temper to which we are intended to be 
 formed by it,) or the motives by which it is enforced and re- 
 commended to us in them. 
 
 That the end and design of our holy religion. Christians, 
 was to form us to the most disinterested benevolence, cannot 
 be doubted by any person who consults the Holy Scriptures, 
 and especially the books of the New Testament. 
 
 There we plainly see the principle of benevolence repre- 
 sented, when it is in its due strength and degree, as equal in 
 point of intenseness to that of self-love. " Thou shalt love thy 
 neighbour as thyself" The plain consequence of this is, that 
 if all our brethren of mankind with whom we are connected, 
 have an equal claim upon us, (since our connexions are daily 
 growing more extensive, and we ourselves are, consequently, 
 growing daily of less relative importance in our own eyes,) 
 the principle of benevolence must, in the end, absolutely 
 swallow up that of self-love. 
 
20 THE DUTY OF NOT LIVING TO OURSELVES. 
 
 The most exalted devotion, as even superior both to self- 
 love and benevolence, is always every where reconunended 
 to us : and the sentiments of devotion have been shown greatly 
 to aid, and, in fact, to be the same with those of benevolence ; 
 and they must be so, unless it can be shown that we have 
 some senses, powers, or faculties, which respect the Deity only. 
 
 In order to determine men to engage in a course of dis- 
 interested and generous actions, every motive which is calcu- 
 lated to work upon human nature is employed. And as 
 mankind in general are deeply immersed in vice and folly, 
 their hopes, but more especially their fears, are acted upon 
 in the strongest manner by tlie prospect of rewards and pun- 
 ishments. Even temporal rewards and punishments were 
 proposed to mankind in the earlier and ruder ages of the 
 world. But as our notions of happiness grow more enlarged, 
 infinitely greater, but indefinite objects of hope and fear are 
 set before us. Something unknown, but something un- 
 speakably dreadful in a future world is perpetually held up to 
 us, as a guard against the allurements to vice and excess 
 which the world abounds with ; and still farther to counteract 
 their baleful influences, the heavenly world (the habitation of 
 good men after death) is represented to us as a place in 
 which we shall be completely happy, enjoying something 
 which is described as more than eye hath seen, ear heard, 
 or than the heart of man can conceive. 
 
 These motives are certahily addressed to the principle of 
 self-interest, urging us out of a regard to ourselves and our 
 general happiness, " to cease to do evil, and learn to do well." 
 And, indeed, no motives of a more generous nature, and 
 drawn from more distant considerations, can be supposed 
 sufficient to influence the bulk of mankind, and " bring them 
 from the power of sin and Satan unto God." 
 
 But when, by the influence of these motives, it may be 
 supposed that mankind are in some measure recovered from 
 the grosser pollutions of the world, and the principle of self- 
 interest has been played, as it were, against itself, and beeu 
 
THE DUTY OF NOT LIVING TO OURSELVES. 21 
 
 a means of engaging us in a course and habit of actions 
 which are necessarily connected with, and productive of, 
 more generous and noble principles, then these nobler prin- 
 ciples are those which the sacred writers chiefly inculcate. 
 
 Nothing is more frequent with the sacred writers than to 
 exhort men to the practice of their duty as the command of 
 God, from a principle of love to God, of love to Christ, and 
 of love to mankind, more especially of our fellow-Christians, 
 and from a regard to the interest of our holy religion ; mo- 
 tives which do not at all turn the attention of our minds 
 upon themselves. This is not borrowing the aid of self-love 
 to strengthen the principles of benevolence and piety, but it 
 is properly deriving additional strength to these noble disposi- 
 tions, as it were, from within themselves, independent of 
 foreign considerations. 
 
 We may safely say, that no degree or kind of self-love is 
 made use of in the Scriptures but what is necessary to raise 
 us above that principle. And some of the more refined kinds 
 of self-love, how familiar soever they may be in some sys- 
 tems of morals, never come in sight there. We are never 
 exhorted in the Scriptures to do benevolent actions for the 
 sake of the reflex pleasures of benevolence, or pious actions 
 with a view to the pleasures of devotion. This refined kind 
 of self-love is nowhere to be found in the Scriptures. 
 
 Even the pleasures of a good conscience, — though they be 
 of a more general nature, and there be less refinement in 
 them than in some other pleasures which are connected 
 with the idea of self, and though they be represented in the 
 Scriptures as the consequence of good actions, and a source 
 of joy, as a testimony of a person's being in the favor of 
 God, and in the way to happiness, — are perhaps never di- 
 rectly proposed to us as the reward of virtue. This motive 
 to virtue makes a greater figure in the system of the later 
 Stoics (those heathen philosophers who, in consequence of 
 entertaining the most extravagant idea of their own merit, 
 really idolized their own natures to a degree absolutely 
 
22 THE DUTY OF NOT LIVING TO OURSELVES. 
 
 blasphemous) than m the Scriptures. And if we consider 
 the nature of this principle, we shall soon be sensible that if 
 it be inculcated as a motive to virtue, and particularly the 
 virtues of a sublimer kind, it should be with great caution, 
 and in such a manner as shall have the least tendency to 
 encourage self-applause ; for does not self-applause border 
 very nearly upon pride and self-conceit, and that species of 
 it which is called spiritual pride, and which is certainly a 
 most malignant disposition ? 
 
 If this same principle have power to excite such ridicu- 
 lous vanity, intolerable arrogance, inveterate rancour, and 
 supercilious contempt of others, when it has nothing but 
 the trifling advantage of skill in criticism, a talent for poetry, 
 a taste for belles lettres, or some other of the minuter parts 
 of science to avail itself of ; what have we not to dread from 
 it, when it can boast of what is universally acknowledged to 
 be a far superior kind of excellence ? 
 
 To guard against this dangerous rock, so fatal to every 
 genuine principle of virtue, the utmost humility, self-diffi- 
 dence, and trust in God, are ever recommended to us in the 
 Holy Scriptures. Good men are taught to regard him as 
 the giver of every good and every perfect gift. They are 
 represented as disclaiming all the merit of their own good 
 works, and expecting all favor and happiness, private or 
 public, from the free goodness and undeserved mercy of 
 God. When we have done all that is commanded us, we 
 must say we are unprofitable servants ; we have done only 
 that which it was our duty to do. 
 
 In the representation which our Saviour has given us of 
 the proceedings of the last great day of judgment, it is in 
 this respect that the temper of the righteous is contrasted 
 with that of the wicked ; though that was not the principal 
 design of the representation. The righteous seem surprised 
 at the favorable opinion which their Judge expresses of them, 
 and absolutely disclaim all the good works which he ascribes 
 to them. " When saw we thee," say they, "an hungered, 
 
THE DUTY OF NOT LIVING TO OURSELVES. 23 
 
 and fed thee ; or thirsty, and gave thee drink ; vi'hen saw 
 we thee a stranger, and took thee in, or naked, and clothed 
 thee ; or when saw we thee sick and in prison, and came 
 unto thee?" Whereas the wicked are represented as equally 
 surprised at the censure our Lord passes upon them, and 
 insist upon their innocence, saying, "When saw we thee an 
 hungered, or athirst, or a stranger, or naked, or sick, or in 
 prison, and did not minister unto thee ? " 
 
 This, too, is the excellent moral conveyed to us in the 
 parable of the Pharisee and the Publican, and the import of 
 one of the blessings which our Lord pronounced in a solemn 
 manner at the beginning of his ministry on earth, " Blessed 
 are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven ; " 
 and also the spirit of many of our Lord's invectives against 
 the pride and hypocrisy of the Scribes and Pharisees. 
 
 No other vice seems capable of disturbing the equal and 
 generous temper of our Lord. Other vices rather excite his 
 compassion ; but pride, together with its usual attendant, 
 hypocrisy, never fails to rouse his most vehement indigna- 
 tion : insomuch, that before we attend to the heinous nature 
 and dreadful consequences of those vices, we are apt rather 
 to blame our Lord for intemperate wrath upon these occa- 
 sions, and to wonder why a person, who otherwise appears to 
 be so meek, should, in this case only, be so highly provoked. 
 
 How severely doth he check the least tendency towards 
 pride and ambition in his own disciples, whenever he dis- 
 covers in any of them a disposition to aspire to distinction 
 and superiority ; closing his admonition, on one remarkable 
 occasion, with these words, which are characteristic of the 
 temper of his religion : " He that is greatest among you 
 shall be your servant. Whosoever shall exalt himself shall 
 be abased, and he that shall humble himself shall be exalted." 
 
 What temper can be supposed more proper to" qualify us 
 for joining the glorious assembly of the spirits of just men 
 made perfect, and perhaps innumerable orders of beings far 
 superior to us, both in understanding and goodness, when 
 
24 THE DUTY OF NOT LIVING TO OURSELVES. 
 
 all the splendor of the invisible world shall be thrown open 
 to us, but a spirit of the deepest humility, and the purest 
 benevolence ? This alone can dispose us truly to rejoice in 
 the view of every kind and degree of excellence, wherever 
 found, without the least uneasiness arising from pride, envy, 
 jealousy, or dislike ; all which vicious qualities of the mind 
 are nearly connected together. And how can a spirit of 
 true humility and pure benevolence, which cannot exist 
 without humility, be attained, if our regards be perpetually, 
 or frequently, directed to ourselves? Where self is con- 
 sidered, pride, vanity, or self-conceit, with all their hateful 
 consequences, seem, in some degree, to be unavoidable. 
 
 Whoever, therefore, lays the foundation of human virtue 
 on the principle of self-interest, or, what is nearly the same 
 thing, self-applause, is erecting a fabric which can never 
 rest on such supports; and he will be found, in fact, to have 
 been pulling down with one hand what he was endeavouring 
 to build up with the other. 
 
 To draw to a conclusion. This doctrine abounds with the 
 noblest practical uses, and points out directly the great rule 
 of life and source of happiness; which is to give ourselves 
 wholly up to some employment, which may, if possible, 
 engage all our faculties, and which tends to the good of so- 
 ciety. This is a field which is open to the exertion of all 
 human powers, and in which all mankind may be equally, 
 mutually, and boundlessly happy. 
 
 This will render all expedients to kill time, unnecessary. 
 With our affections and our faculties thus engrossed by a 
 worthy object, we scarce need fear being ever dull, pensive, 
 or melancholy, or know what it is to have our time hang 
 heavy upon our hands. And I think I may so for presume 
 upon the known connexion of mind and body, as to say that 
 this is the best preservative against hypochondriacal disorders, 
 to which persons whose situation in the world doth not lead 
 them into the active scenes of life, are peculiarly subject. 
 Every day passed in the steady and earnest discharge of a 
 
THE DUTY OF NOT LIVING TO OURSELVES. 25 
 
 man's known duty, will pass with uniform cheerfulness and 
 alacrity. And in the glorious, animating prospect of a future 
 happy state of mankind, on which, in a humble trust and 
 confidence in the assistance and grace of God, he has spent 
 all his cares and exerted all his powers, that joy w^ill spring 
 up in his heart here, which will hereafter be " unspeakable 
 and full of glory." 
 
 If troubles and persecutions arise on account of our ad- 
 hering to our duty ; if we be opposed in the prosecution of 
 laudable undertakings, or suffer in consequence of under- 
 taking them ; the true piety of a person who habitually 
 lives to God, and not to himself, is capable of converting 
 them all into pure, unmixed joy and transport. Then the 
 human mind, roused to the most intense exertion of all its 
 faculties, burdened with no consciousness of guilt, referring 
 itself absolutely to the disposal of its God and Father, dis- 
 trusting its own powers, and confiding in the infinite power, 
 wisdom, and goodness of God, — acquires a fervor of spirit, a 
 courage, fortitude, and magnanimity, tempered w'ith the most 
 perfect serenity, and the greatest presence of mind, that is 
 sufficient, and more than sufficient, to bear a man through 
 every difficulty, and even to convert all pain into pleasure. 
 His highly agitated state of mind, in those trying circum- 
 stances, is almost pure rapture and ecstasy. 
 
 In those circumstances, which appear so distressing, num- 
 bers, I doubt not, have been able, according to our blessed 
 Saviour's direction, to " rejoice and be exceeding glad, know- 
 ing that their reward was great in heaven " ; and have expe- 
 rienced more real comfort, peace of mind, and inward joy, in 
 the greatest adversity, than they had ever felt in the days of 
 their prosperity. Yea, what is related by historians of some 
 Christian and Protestant martyrs appears to me not incredi- 
 ble ; namely, that in the midst of flames they have felt no 
 pain. Their minds were so intensely agitated, and so wholly 
 occupied with opposite sensations of the most exalted nature, 
 as to exclude all external sensation whatever, vastly more 
 
26 THE DUTY OF NOT LIVING TO OURSELVES. 
 
 than we can form any idea of from the trances and reveries 
 which any person was ever subject to. 
 
 What the extraordinary exercises of devotion are able to 
 do upon extraordinary occasions, the habitual, moderate 
 exercise of piety, will be able to do in the ordinary course 
 and the common troubles of our lives ; so that it may not 
 only be compared to a strong cordial, to be applied Avhen 
 the mind is ready to faint under adversity, but to that food 
 which is the daily support of our lives. 
 
 To have God alioays in our thoughts is not possible in this 
 world. Present objects, to the influence of which we are 
 continually exposed, must necessarily engage a great part of 
 our attention ; and worldly objects, by continually engrossing 
 our thoughts, are apt to become of too great importance to us. 
 We grow anxious about them, and our minds are harassed 
 and fatigued with a constant and close attention to them. 
 Now it is when the mind is in this state, or rather tending 
 towards it, that the benign influences of devotion are, in the 
 ordinary course of our lives, the most sensibly felt ; when the 
 mind, looking off", and above all worldly objects, and deeply 
 impressed with a sense of the infinite power, wisdom, and 
 goodness of God, unburdens itself of every anxiety, and casts 
 all its cares upon its heavenly Father ; and when the preced- 
 ing tumult and disorder in the passions, only serve to aug- 
 ment that unspeakable joy, satisfaction, and confidence, with 
 which a deep sense of the presence and providence of God 
 inspires the soul. 
 
 The relief a benevolent mind feels from communicating 
 its troubles and cares to an intimate friend, in whose wisdom 
 and integrity he can confide, though of the same nature, is 
 but a faint image of what the truly pious soul feels in the 
 delightful seasons of the devout intercourse which he main- 
 tains with his God. 
 
 This is a perpetual source of joy and satisfaction to a truly 
 devout mind, which the wicked, those persons who live to 
 themselves and not to mankind or to God, intermeddle not 
 
THE DUTY OF NOT LIVING TO OURSELVES. 27 
 
 with. Not even an idea of that sweet tranquillity, exalted 
 joy, and calm fortitude which true devotion inspires, can be 
 communicated to another who hath had no experience of it 
 himself. This is truly of those things which St. Paul says 
 "the natural man" cannot comprehend, and that "they are 
 foolishne-ss to him, because they are spiritually discerned." 
 
 I would be no advocate for enthusiasm. The fervor of 
 devotion cannot always be kept up. That is inconsistent 
 with the condition of our nature, and far from being neces- 
 sary in our present state : but that cheerful serenity and 
 composure in which moderate acts of devotion leave the mind, 
 is an excellent temper for entering upon, and persevering 
 with spirit and alacrity in, any useful and honorable under- 
 taking. 
 
 The sum of this practical doctrine, suggested by revela- 
 tion and confirmed by reason and observation, is, that no 
 man can be happy who lives to himself; but that true happi- 
 ness consists in having our faculties wholly engrossed by some 
 worthy object, in the pursuit of which the strongest and best 
 of our affections have their full play, and in which we enjoy 
 all the consistent pleasures of our whole nature ; that though 
 a regard to our greatest happiness be of excellent use, (par- 
 ticularly about the beginning of our progress towards perfec- 
 tion and happiness, in bringing our inferior appetites and pas- 
 sions into due subjection to the superior powers of our nature,) 
 yet that self-love, or a regard to ourselves, is very apt to 
 grow too intense, and is, in fact, the cause of a great deal of 
 the useless anxiety, perplexity, and misery there is in the 
 world, and that, therefore, it ought to be our care, that our 
 minds be engrossed as much as possible by other objects ; 
 and that even motives to virtue, which turn our attention 
 frequently upon ourselves, should be used with caution ; for 
 fear of feeding that vanity and self-conceit, which we ought 
 to study every method of repressing, as the greatest bane of 
 true religion, being most opposite to the genuine temper of 
 Christianity, and the most destructive of human happiness. 
 
THE DANGER OF BAD HABITS. 
 
 A SERMON. 
 
 Hosea, iv. 17. 
 Ephraim is joined to idols. Let liim alone. 
 
 Ephraim is here put for the whole kingdom of Israel, of 
 which it was a part ; and this awful sentence pronounced 
 upon it was delivered during its declension, and not long 
 before its final dissolution by the kings of Assyria. 
 
 Many prophets had God sent to this unhappy nation, and 
 by repeated messages had he expostulated with them, from 
 time to time, for their crying wickedness and provocations. 
 They had had line upon line, and precept upon precept ; but 
 all had been to no purpose. They showed no sign of repen- 
 tance, but " held fast their iniquity, and v/ould not let it go," 
 till the Divine patience and forbearance were wearied out. 
 Mercy could plead for them no longer ; their fate was deter- 
 mined ; and the execution of the just judgments of God upon 
 them was only delayed, but was sure to take place in the 
 end. 
 
 This is the case of a whole nation abandoned of God in this 
 fearful manner. But whatever has been the case of one 
 nation, may not only be tiie case of another nation, but also 
 that of any individual ; and it is the possibility of this being 
 the case of our own nation, or of ourselves, that it makes to 
 demand our attention. To the Almighty, with respect to 
 
THE DANGER OF BAD HABITS. 29 
 
 moral government, a nation is as one man, and one m'an as 
 a whole nation. He punishes vice, and he rewards virtue, 
 in both ; and whatever is agreeable to wisdom and equity in 
 the case of a nation, is likewise agreeable to wisdom and 
 equity with respect to individuals. Supposing, therefore, 
 that the cases are exactly similar, I shall, in discoursing from 
 these words, 
 
 1. State the case with as much exactness as I can ; 
 
 2. Show the probability and danger of it with respect to 
 
 human nature; and, 
 
 3. Consider the equity and propriety of it with respect to 
 
 to God, applying the whole doctrine to the cases of 
 individuals. 
 
 In the first place, I am to state this case with as much 
 exactness as I can. 
 
 In general, when any person is in the condition of Ephraim, 
 in my text, so that God shall, as it were, say of him, "he is 
 joined to idols," (he is joined to his lusts and vices,) " Let him 
 ; lone," his day of trial and probation may be said to be, to 
 all important purposes, expired. He is no longer a subject 
 of moral government, because he is utterly incapable of 
 amendment, which is the end of all moral discipline ; and 
 though, through the goodness of God, which is over all his 
 works, he may live many years longer, yet his final doom 
 is in reality fixed ; his sentence is irrevocable, and the exe- 
 cution of it only deferred. 
 
 Not that the reformation of any sinner is ever naturally 
 impossible, or that, if he truly repent, he shall not find favor 
 at the hand of God : for " nothing is impossible with God," and 
 " a truly humble, penitent, and contrite heart he will never de- 
 spise, whenever, and wheresoever he finds it. But the change 
 may be morally impossible, or not to he e^cpected according to 
 the usual course of things ; and this is sufficient to authorize 
 us to make use of the language. 
 
 Supposing a man to have lived so long in the habits of 
 vice, as to have lost all relish for every thing that is good. 
 
30 THE DANGER OF BAD HABITS. 
 
 that he has no pleasure in the company of the sober, the 
 virtuous, and the pious, but only in that of those who are- as 
 abandoned as himself, and that the greatest satisfaction he 
 has is in corrupting others, (and farther than this depravity 
 cannot go;) supposing that, in the course of his life, this 
 man, besides every advantage for instruction, had experienced 
 a great variety of prosperity and adversity ; and yet that pros- 
 perity, instead of making him more thankful and obedient to 
 God, made him forget him the more ; and that afflictions, in- 
 stead of softening and bettering his heart, only served to harden 
 it and make it worse. Do I say that this abandoned wretch 
 cannot be reformed, that God cannot, by any methods what- 
 ever, work upon his heart, and bring him to serious thought 
 and reflection ? By no means. That would be to limit the 
 power of God, to whom all things are possible. He can 
 work miracles, if he should think proper so to do. But then 
 I say this would be a proper miracle, such as, at this day, 
 we are not authorized to expect. And judging by what we 
 see actually to take place, and what we must conclude to be 
 just and right, God may, and probably will, leave such a one 
 to himself He may determine to try him no longer by any 
 of those methods of liis providence which are usually em- 
 ployed for the purpose of reclaiming sinners. 
 
 For instance, afflictions, and especially bodily sickness, 
 are a great means of softening and bettering the minds of 
 men ; but God may resolve that he shall be visited with no 
 remarkable sickness, till he be overtaken with his last ; or 
 he may cut him off by a sudden and unexpected death, in 
 the mid.st of his crimes. The death of our friends, or any 
 calamities befalling them, have often been the means, in the 
 hands of Divine Providence, of bringing to serious thought 
 and reflection those who have survived those strokes; but 
 God may resolve never to touch him in so tender a part, but 
 rather make use of his death as a warning and example to 
 others. 
 
 Now when a man is thus left of God, and no providential 
 
THE DANGER OF BAD HABITS. 31 
 
 methods are used to reclaim him, we may conclude that he is 
 irrecoverably lost. It is, in fact, and according to the course 
 of nature, (and we know of no deviations from it since the 
 age of the apostles,) absolutely impossible that he should 
 repent, or be reformed. And though he should continue to 
 live ever so long after God has thus forsaken him, he is 
 only, in the awful language of Scripture, treasuring up " wrath 
 against the day of wrath ; " and there remains nothing for 
 him but " a fearful looking-for of judgment," and of that " fiery 
 indignation " which shall consume the adversaries of God. 
 
 Having thus stated the nature of this awful case, and 
 shown in what sense, and on what account, it may be said 
 that it is quite desperate and hopeless, viz. because it may 
 be morally impossible that he should ever truly repent and 
 be reformed, by reason of God's withdrawing those provi- 
 dential methods by which he uses to work upon men's hearts, 
 and to bring them to serious thought and reflection ; I come, 
 
 2dly. To consider the probability and danger of the case 
 with respect to human nature ; how far men are liable to fall 
 into this fearful condition, and by what means they fall into it, 
 
 A man's case may be pronounced to be thus desperate, 
 when his mind is brought into such a state, as that the neces- 
 sary means of reformation shall have lost their effect upon 
 him ; and this is the natural consequence of confirmed habits 
 of vice, and a long-continued neglect of the means of reli- 
 gion and virtue ; — which is so far from being an impossible 
 or improbable case, that it is a very general one. 
 
 In order to be the more sensible of this, you are to con- 
 sider that vice is a habit, and therefore of a subtle and in- 
 sinuating nature. By easy, pleasing, and seemingly harmless 
 actions, men are often betrayed into a progress which grows 
 every day more alarming. Our virtuous resolutions we may 
 break with difficulty. It may be with pain and reluctance 
 that we commit the first acts of sin, but the next are easier 
 to us ; and use, custom, and habit, will at last reconcile us 
 to any thing, even things the very idea of which might at 
 first be shocking to us. 
 
32 THE DANGER OF BAD HABITS. 
 
 Vice is a thing not to be trifled with. You may, by the 
 force of vigorous resolution, break off in the early stages of 
 it ; but habits, when they have been confirmed and long 
 contmued, are obstinate things to contend with, and are 
 hardly ever entirely subdued. When bad habits seem to be 
 overcome, and we think we have got rid of our chains, they 
 may perhaps only have become, as it were, invisible ; so that 
 when we thought we had recovered our freedom and strength, 
 so as to be able to repel any temptation, we may lose all 
 power of resistance on the first approach of it. 
 
 A man who has contracted a habit of vice, and been aban- 
 doned to sinful courses for some time, is never out of danger. 
 He is exactly in the case of a man who has long labored 
 under a chronical disease, and is perpetually subject to a 
 relapse. The first shock of any disorder a man's constitution 
 may bear ; and, if he be not naturally subject to it, he may 
 perfectly recover, and be out of danger. But when the gene- 
 ral habit is such as that a relapse is apprehended, a man's 
 friends and physicians are alarmed for him. 
 
 The reason is, that a relapse does not find a person in the 
 condition in Avhich he was when the first fit of illness seized 
 him. That gave his constitution a shock, and left him 
 enfeebled, so as to be less able to sustain another shock ; and 
 especially if it be more violent than the former, as is gene- 
 rally the case in th.ose disorders. 
 
 In the very same dangerous situation is the man who has 
 ever been addicted to vicious courses. He can never be 
 said to be perfectly recovered, whatever appearances may 
 promise, but is always in danger of a fatal relapse. He 
 ought, therefore, to take the greatest care of himself He 
 is not in the condition of a person who has never known 
 the ways of wickedness. He ought, therefore, to have the 
 greatest distrust of himself, and set a double watch over his 
 thoughts, words, and actions, for fear of a surprise. For if 
 once, through the force of any particular temptation, he 
 should fall back into his former vicious courses, and his 
 
THE DANGER OF BAD HABITS. 33 
 
 former disposition should return, his case will probably be 
 desperate. He will plunge himself still deeper in wicked- 
 ness ; and his having abstained for a time, will only, as it 
 were, have whetted his appetite, and make him swallow down 
 the poison of sin by larger and more eager draughts than 
 ever. 
 
 Such persons may be so entirely in the power of vicious 
 habits, that they shall be in no sense their own masters. They 
 may even see the danger they are in, wish to free themselves 
 from the habits they have contracted, and yet find they 
 have no force, or resolution, to relieve themselves. They 
 are not to be rescued from the snare of the destroyer, and 
 brought to their right mind, but by some uncommon and 
 alarming providence, which is in the hands of God, and 
 which he may justly withhold, when his patience and long- 
 suffering have been much abused. Justly may he say to 
 such an habitual sinner, as he did to Ephraim in my text, 
 he is joined to idols, he is joined to his lusts, let him alone. 
 He is determined to have the pleasure of sin, let him receive 
 the wages of sin also. 
 
 This brings me to the third head of my discourse, in which 
 I propose to consider the equity of the proceeding with res- 
 pect to God. 
 
 It may be said that it is not agreeable to equity, for God 
 to favor some with the means of improvement, and suffer 
 others to abandon themselves to destruction, without a pos- 
 sibility of escaping. But I answer, that the persons whose 
 case I have been describing, have had, and have outlived, 
 their day of grace. God has long exercised forbearance 
 towards them, but they have wearied it out ; and it could 
 not be expected to last for ever. They have had gracious 
 invitations to repentance, but they have slighted them all : 
 they stopped their ears, and refused to return. They have 
 been tried with a great variety both of merciful and of afflic- 
 tive providences, but they made no good use of them. *' Why 
 3 
 
34 THE DANGER OF BAD HABITS. 
 
 then," as the prophet says, " should they be stricken any more, 
 when they will only revolt more and more ? " 
 
 A day of trial and probation, or what is frequently called 
 a day of grace, must necessarily have some period. Else 
 when would the time of retribution, when would the time 
 of rewards and punishments, take place 1 A state of trial 
 necessarily respects some future state, in which men must 
 receive according to their deeds. But this state of trial it 
 has pleased God to make of uncertain duration ; no doubt, 
 to keep us always watchful, having our accounts always in 
 readiness, because in such an hour as we think not, our Lord 
 may come and require them. The state of trial, therefore, 
 is with some, of much longer duration than it is with others; 
 and God is the sovereign arbiter of every thing relating to 
 it. He makes our lives longer or shorter, as seems good in 
 his sight, and at death, a state of trial ends of course. We 
 may, therefore, as well pretend to question the justice and 
 equity of God's cutting us off by death when and in what 
 manner he pleases, as arraign his justice in sealing up our 
 doom, though while we live, whenever he pleases. 
 
 No doubt God gives to every person a sufficient trial ; for, 
 " he is not willing that any should perish, but had rather 
 that all should come to repentance." We may, therefore, 
 assure ourselves, that he will not cease to endeavour to pro- 
 mote the reformation of a sinner by all proper means, till he 
 shall become absolutely incorrigible, and the methods taken 
 to reclaim him would be abused and lost. And if we consider 
 that every means of improvement neglected, adds to a man's 
 guilt and aggravates his condemnation ; it may even appear 
 to be mercy in the Divine Being to grant a person no farther 
 means of improvement, after it has been found, by actual 
 trial, that they would only have been abused, and therefore 
 have proved highly injurious to him. Not but that it might 
 have been sufficient to silence every cavil of this kind, to say, 
 as Paul does on a similar occasion, " Who art thou, O man, 
 that repliest against God ; " or with Abraham, " Shall not the 
 
THE DANGER OF BAD HABITS. 35 
 
 Judge of all the earth do that which is right 1 " But it is 
 proper to show, that, in the midst of judgment, God remem- 
 bers mercy. 
 
 There is a very pathetic description of the case of a 
 sinner who, after a relapse into vicious courses, is justly 
 abandoned of God to seek his own destruction, in a parable 
 of our Saviour's, formed upon the popular opinion of the 
 Jews of his age concerning demons, or evil spirits : " When 
 the unclean spirit is gone out of a man, he walketh through 
 dry places, seeking rest, and findeth none. Then he saith, 
 I will return into my house from whence I came out ; and 
 when he is come, he findeth it empty, swept, and garnished. 
 Then goeth he, and taketh with himself seven other spirits 
 more wicked than himself, and they enter in, and dwell there, 
 and the last state of that man is worse than the first." The 
 application of this parable either to the case of the Jew^s (for 
 whom it seems to have been originally intended) or to par- 
 ticular persons, who, after a seeming reformation, have re- 
 lapsed into vicious courses, is too obvious to be particularlv 
 dwelt upon. 
 
 To come, therefore, to a general application of this doc- 
 trine : Let all persons who are sensible of the folly and evil 
 of sinful courses, and of the danger of persisting in them, 
 make a speedy and effectual retreat. Let us do nothino- by 
 halves. To be lukewarm in religion, is, in effect, to have no 
 religion at all. We must give God our hearts ; we must 
 give him an undivided affection ; for we cannot truly love 
 God and Mammon, or the world, at the same time. In this 
 unsettled and fluctuating disposition, temptations will have 
 a great advantage over us. We shall ever be in danger of 
 throwing off all restraint, and of running into every kind of 
 riot and excess, till nothing on the part of Divine Providence 
 shall occur to reclaim us. 
 
 In reality, my brethren, and to every valuable end and 
 purpose, the term of our trial and probation does generally 
 expire long before the term of our natural lives. For how 
 
36 THE DANGER OF BAD HABITS. 
 
 kw are there whose characters, whose dispositions, or habits 
 of mind, undergo any considerable change after they are 
 grown to man's estate ! Our tempers and general characters 
 are usually fixed as soon as we have fixed ourselves in a 
 regular employment and mode of life; for, after this, we 
 yee almost every person continue the very same to the end 
 of his life. Some remarkable providential occurrence, some 
 fit of sickness, or some unforeseen misfortune of any kind, 
 may alarm those who have been addicted to vicious courses, 
 and for a time bring them to serious thought and reflection ; 
 but if they be turned thirty or forty years of age, how soon 
 do the serious purposes, which they then form, go off, and 
 their former modes of thinking and living return ! Not 
 only with respect to temper and disposition of mind, as it 
 relates to virtue or vice, but with respect to those habits 
 which are indifferent to morals, we see that, excepting one 
 case perhaps in a thousand, they are not subject to change 
 after the period that I have mentioned. Any habits that 
 we contract early in life, any particular bias or inclination, 
 any particular cast of thought, or mode of conversation, even 
 any particular gesture of body, as in walking, sitting, &.c. 
 we are universally known by among our acquaintance, from 
 the time that we properly enter life, to the time that we have 
 done with it ; as much as we are l)y the tone of our voice, 
 or our handwriting, which, likewise, are of the nature of 
 habits or customs. 
 
 These observations may be applied in a great measure 
 even to matters of opinion, (though, naturally, nothing seems 
 to be more variable,) as well as to mental and corporeal 
 habits. A man who has studied, or who fancies he has 
 studied, any particular subject, sooner or later makes up his 
 mind, as we say, with respect to it ; and after this, all argu- 
 ments, intended to convince him of his mistake, only serve 
 to confirm him in his chosen way of thinking. An argu- 
 ment, or evidence of any kind, that is entirely new to a 
 man, may make a proper impression upon him ; but if it has 
 
THE DANGER OF BAD HABITS. 37 
 
 been often proposed to him, and he has had time to view 
 and consider it, so as to have hit upon any method of evad- 
 ing the force of it, he is afterwards quite callous to it, and can 
 very seldom be prevailed upon to give it any proper atten- 
 tion. This consideration accounts, in some measure, both 
 for the great influence of Christianity on its first publication, 
 when the doctrines were new and striking, and also for the 
 absolute indifference with which the same great truths are 
 now heard in all Christian countries. 
 
 It accounts also for the more striking effect of the preach- 
 ing of the Methodists, than ours. They find people utterly 
 ignorant, to whom the truths, the promises, and the threaten- 
 ings of the gospel are really new ; whereas we have to do 
 with persons who have heard them from their infancy, and 
 have, alas! acquired a habit of disregarding them. But 
 then our people having, in general, been brought up in 
 habits of virtue, such great changes of character and conduct 
 are less necessary in their case. It is to be regretted, how- 
 ever, that they too seldom exceed that mediocrity of charac- 
 ter which they acquire in early life. I speak of the generality 
 among us ; for others are remarkable exceptions, persons 
 of disinterested and heroic virtue, in fidl proportion to the 
 superior advantages which they enjoy. 
 
 The resistance which the mind makes to the admission of 
 truth, when it has been strongly prejudiced against it, is 
 evident both with respect to the oelief of Christianity in 
 general, and of particular opinions relating to it. There are 
 many persons by no means defective with respect to judg- 
 ment in other things, of whose conversion to Christianity we 
 can have no more reasonable expectation, than of the sun 
 rising in the west, even though they should consent to hear 
 or read every thing that we could propose to them for that 
 purpose. There are also many conscientious and intelligent 
 Roman Catholics, absurd as we justly think their principles 
 to be, who would deliberately read the best defences of 
 Protestantism without any other effect than that of being 
 
38 THE DANGER OF BAD HABITS. 
 
 more confirmed in their prejudices against it. The same 
 may be said of persons professing other modes of faith, so 
 that their persuasions are not to be changed, except by such 
 a method as that v/hich was applied for the conversion of the 
 apostle Paul. The same observation may also be applied to 
 many opinions, and especially to a general bias or turn of 
 thinking in matters of a political nature, and even in subjects 
 of philosophy or criticism. 
 
 Facts of this kind, of which we are all witnesses, and 
 which come within the observation of every day in our lives, 
 show, in a very striking light, what care we ought to take 
 in forming our first judgments of things, and in contracting 
 our first habits, and therefore deserve the more especial 
 attention of young persons ; for we see that when these 
 principles and habits are once properly formed, they are 
 generally fixed for life. Whatever is fact with respect to 
 mankind in general, we ought to conclude to be the case 
 with respect to ourselves ; that the cause is in the constitu- 
 tion of our common nature, and dependent upon the funda- 
 mental laws of it, and, no doubt, a wise and useful part of it; 
 and we must not expect that miracles will be wrought in our 
 favor. 
 
 To show that there is the greatest advantage, as well as 
 some inconvenience, resulting from this disposition to fixity, 
 as we call it, in our own nature, let it be observed, that if 
 there was nothing fixed or permanent in the human charac- 
 ter, wc should find the same inconvenience as if any other 
 law of nature was unsettled. We should be perpetually at 
 a loss how to conduct ourselves, how to behave to mankind 
 in general, and even to our own particular friends and ac- 
 quaintance, especially after having been for any space of 
 time absent from them. We do not expect to find persons 
 the very same in all changes of condition or circumstances, 
 as in sickness and health, prosperity and adversity, &.c. ; 
 but then we generally know what kind of change to expect 
 in them in those circumstances, and we regulate our con- 
 
THE DANGER OF BAD HABITS. 39 
 
 duct towards them by our experience of the usual effect of 
 similar changes. 
 
 These observations, when applied to opinions, may serve 
 to amuse us, but when they are applied to practice, they 
 ought seriously to alarm us. Let all those, therefore, who 
 being at all advanced in life, see reason to be dissatisfied 
 with themselves, with their disposition of mind, and their 
 general conduct, be alarmed ; for there is certainly the 
 greatest reason for it, probably much more than they are 
 themselves aware of Persons in this state of mind always 
 flatter themselves with a time when they shall have more 
 leisure for repentance and reformation ; but, judging from 
 observation on others, which is the surest guide that they 
 can follow (infinitely better than their own imaginations,) 
 they may conclude that it is almost a certainty that such a 
 time will never come. 
 
 If they should have the leisure for repentance and refor- 
 mation which they promised themselves, it is not probable 
 that sufficient strength of resolution will come along with it. 
 Indeed, all resolutions to repent at a future time are neces- 
 sarily insincere, and must be a mere deception, because 
 they imply a preference of a man's present habits and con- 
 duct, that he is really unwilling to change them, and that 
 nothing but necessity would lead him to make any attempt 
 of the kind. In fact, he can only mean that he will discon- 
 tinue particular actions, his habits or temper of mind remain- 
 ing the same. 
 
 Besides, a real, effectual repentance or reformation is 
 such a total change in a man as cannot, in the nature of 
 things, take place in a short space of time. A man's habits 
 are formed by the scenes he has gone through, and the im- 
 pressions which they have made upon him ; and when 
 death approaches, a man has not another life, like this, to 
 live over again. He may, even on a death-bed, most sin- 
 cerely wish that he had a pious and benevolent disposition, 
 with the love of virtue in all its branches : but that wish, 
 
40 THE DANGER OF BAD HABITS. 
 
 though it be ever so sincere and earnest, can no more pro- 
 duce a proper change in his mind, than it can restore him to 
 health, or make him taller or stronger than he is. 
 
 The precise time when this confirmed state of mind takes 
 place, or, in the language of Scripture, the time when any 
 person is thus left of God, or left to himself, cannot be de- 
 termined. It is necessarily various and uncertain. But in 
 general we may say, that when any person has been long 
 abandoned to vicious courses, when vice is grown into a 
 habit with him, and especially when his vices are more pro- 
 perly of a mental nature, such as a disposition to envy, 
 malice, or selfishness (which are the most inveterate, the 
 most difficult to be eradicated of all vices,) when neither 
 health nor sickness, prosperity nor adversity ; when neither 
 a man's own reflections, the remonstrances of his friends, 
 nor admonitions from the pulpit, have any visible effect upon 
 him ; when, after this, we see no great change in his worldly 
 affairs or connexions, but he goes on from day to day, from 
 month to month, and from year to year, without any sensible 
 alteration ; there is reason to fear that he is fallen into this 
 fatal security, that he is, as it were, fallen asleep, and that 
 this sleep will be the sleep of death. 
 
 However, a shadow of hope is not to be despised. One 
 chance in a thousand is still a chance ; and there are persons 
 whose vigor of mind is such, that, when sufficiently roused, 
 they are equal to almost any thing. Let those, therefore, 
 who see their danger at any time of life, be up and doing, 
 working out their salvation with fear and trembling, that, if 
 possible, they may flee from the wrath to come. 
 
HABITUAL DEVOTION. 
 
 God, my Christian brethren, is a being with whom we 
 all of us have to do, and the relation we stand in to him is 
 the most important of all our relations. Our connexions 
 with other beings and other things are slight and transient, 
 in comparison with this. God is our maker, our constant 
 preserver and benefactor, our moral governor, and our final 
 judge. He is present with us wherever we are ; the secrets 
 of all hearts are constantly known to him, and he is of purer 
 eyes than to behold iniquity. Here, then, is a situation, in 
 which we find ourselves, that demands our closest attention. 
 The consideration is, in the highest degree, interesting and 
 alarming ; knowing how absolutely dependent we are upon 
 God, that " in him we live, and move, and have our being," 
 and knowing also, that by vice and folly we have rendered 
 ourselves justly obnoxious to his displeasure. 
 
 Now, to think, and to act, in a manner corresponding to 
 this our necessary intercourse with God, certainly requires 
 that we keep up an habitual regard to it ; and a total, or 
 very great degree of inattention to it, must be highly crimi- 
 nal and dangerous. Accordingly, we find in the Scriptures, 
 that it is characteristic of a good man, that " he sets the Lord 
 always before him," and that "he acknowledges God in all 
 his ways." Whereas, it is said of the wicked, that " God 
 is not in all their thoughts , " and elsewhere, that " there is 
 no fear of God before their eyes ; " that " they put the thoughts 
 of God far from them, and will not the knowledge of the Most 
 High." 
 
42 
 
 HABITUAL DEVOTION. 
 
 This circumstance seems to furnish a pretty good test of 
 the state of a man's mind with respect to virtue and vice. 
 The most abandoned and profligate of mankind are those 
 who live without God in the world, entirely thoughtless of 
 his being, perfections and providence ; having their hearts 
 wholly engrossed with this world and the things of it; by 
 which means those passions which terminate in the enjoy- 
 ment of them, are inflamed to such a degree, that no other 
 principle can restrain their indulgence. These persons may 
 be called practical atheists ; and the temper of mind they 
 have acquired, often leads them to deny both natural and 
 revealed religion. They secretly wish, indeed they cannot 
 but wish, there may be no truth in those principles, the ap- 
 prehension of which is apt to give them disturbance ; and 
 hence they give little attention to the evidence that is pro- 
 duced for them, and magnify all the objections they hear 
 made to them. And it is well known, that, in a mind so 
 strongly biassed, the most cogent reasons often amount to 
 nothing, while the most trifling cavils pass for demonstra- 
 tion. It is the same with respect to any other speculation, 
 when the mind has got a bias in favor of any particular con- 
 clusion. 
 
 On the other hand, a truly and perfectly good man loves, 
 and therefore cherishes, the thought of God, his father and 
 his friend ; till every production of divine power and skill, 
 every instance of divine bounty, and every event of divine 
 providence, never fails to suggest to his mind the idea of 
 the great Author of all things, the Giver of every good and 
 every perfect gift, and the sovereign Disposer of all affairs and 
 of all events. Thus he lives, as it were, constantly seeing 
 Him who is invisible. He sees God in every thing, and he 
 sees every thing in God. He dwells in love, and thereby 
 dwells in God, and God in him. And so long as he con- 
 siders himself as living in the world which God has made, 
 and partaking of the bounty with which his providence sup- 
 plies him ; so long as he is intent upon discharging his duty, 
 
HABITUAL DEVOTION. 43 
 
 in the situation in which he believes the Divine Being has 
 placed him, and meets with no greater trials and difficulties 
 than, he is persuaded, his God and Father has appointed for 
 his good ; it is almost impossible that the thought of God 
 should ever be long absent from his mind. Every thing he 
 sees or feels will make it recur again and again perpetually. 
 His whole life will be, as it were, one act of devotion ; and 
 this state of mind, being highly pleasurable, and his satisfac- 
 tion having infinite sources, will be daily increasing, so as to 
 grow more equable, and more intense, to all eternity ; when 
 it will be joy unspeakable, and full of glory. 
 
 1. An habitual regard to God in our actions tends greatly 
 to keep us firm in our adherence to our duty. It has 
 pleased Divine Providence to place man in a state of trial 
 and probation. This world is strictly such. We are sur- 
 rounded with a great variety of objects, adapted to gratify a 
 variety of senses, with which we are furnished. The pleas- 
 ures they give us are all innocent in moderation, and they 
 engage us in a variety of agreeable and proper pursuits. 
 But our natures are such, as that the frequent indulgence 
 of any of our appetites tends to make its demands inordi- 
 nate, and to beget an habitual propensity to indulge it ; and 
 this proneness to the excessive indulgence of any of our 
 passions enslaves our minds, and is highly dangerous and 
 criminal. By this means we too often come to forget God 
 our maker, to injure our fellow-creatures of mankind, and 
 to do a still greater and more irreparable injury to ourselves, 
 both in mind and body. 
 
 It has pleased Almighty God, therefore, from the concern 
 he had for our good, to forbid these immoderate indulgences 
 of the love of pleasure, riches, and honor, by express laws, 
 guarded with the most awful sanctions. Now we are cer- 
 tainly less liable to forget these laws, and our obligation 
 to observe them, w hen we keep up an habitual regard to 
 our great Lawgiver and Judge ; when we consider him as 
 
44 HABITUAL DEVOTION. 
 
 always present with us ; when we consider that his eyes are 
 in every pLace, beholding both the evil and the good ; that he 
 sees in secret, and will one day reward openly. In this man- 
 ner we shall acquire an habitual reverence for God and his 
 laws, which will end in an habitual obedience to them, even 
 without any express regard to their authority. Thus we 
 should certainly be less likely to neglect the request of a 
 friend, or the injunction of a master, if we could always 
 keep in mind the remembrance of our friend or master; 
 and a constant attention to them would certainly give us a 
 habit of pleasing them in all things. 
 
 2. An habitual regard to God promotes an uniform cheer- 
 fulness of mind ; it tends to dissipate anxiety, or melan- 
 choly, and may even, in some cases, prevent madness. 
 Without a regard to God, as the maker and governor of 
 all things, this world affords but a gloomy and uncomforta- 
 ble prospect. Without this, we see no great end for which 
 we have to live ; we have no great or animating object to 
 pursue ; and whatever schemes we may be carrying on, our 
 views are bounded by a very short and narrow space. To 
 an atheist, therefore, every thing must appear little, dark, 
 and confused. And let it be considered that, in proportion 
 as we forget God, and lose our regard to him, we adopt the 
 sentiments and views of atheists, and shut our eyes to the 
 bright and glorious prospects which religion exhibits to us. 
 
 Religion, my brethren, the doctrine of a God, of a provi- 
 dence, and of a future state, opens an immense, a glorious, 
 and most transporting prospect ; and every man, who is 
 humbly conscious that he conforms to the will of his Maker, 
 may enjoy and rejoice in this prospect. Considering our- 
 selves as the subjects of the moral government of God, we 
 see a most important sphere of action in which vvc have to 
 exert ourselves ; we have the greatest of all objects set before 
 us, " glory, honor, and immortality ; an inheritance incorrupti- 
 ble, undefiled, and that fadeth not away," as the reward of 
 our faithful perseverance in well-doing ; and we have a 
 
HABITUAL DEVOTION. 45 
 
 boundless existence, an eternity, in which to pursue and 
 enjoy this reward. 
 
 These great views and objects, the contemplation of which 
 must be habitual to the mind which keeps up an habitual 
 regard to God, cannot fail to diminish the lustre of the things 
 of time and sense, which engage our attention here below ; 
 and while they lessen our solicitude and anxiety about them, 
 they must cure that fretfulness and distress of mind which is 
 occasioned by the disappointments we meet with in them. 
 
 3. An habitual regard to God fits a man for the business 
 of this life, giving a peculiar presence and intrepidity of 
 mind ; and is, therefore, the best support in difficult enter- 
 prises of any kind. A man who keeps up an habitual 
 regard to God, who acknowledges him in all his ways, and 
 lives a life of devotion to him, has a kind of union with God ; 
 feeling, in some measure, the same sentiments, and having 
 the same views. Hence, being, in the language of the 
 apostle, " a worker together with God," and therefore being 
 confident that God is with him and for him, " he will not fear 
 what man can do unto him." Moreover, fearing God, and 
 having confidence in him, he is a stranger to every other fear. 
 Being satisfied that God will work all his pleasure in him, by 
 him, and for him, he is free from alarm and perturbation, and 
 is not easily disconcerted, so as to lose the possession of his 
 own mind. And having this presence of mind, being con- 
 scious of the integrity of his own heart, confiding in the fa- 
 vor of his Maker, and therefore, sensible that there is noth- 
 ing of much real value that hs can lose, he will have leisure 
 to consider every situation in which he finds himself, and be 
 able to act with calmness and prudence, as circumstances 
 may require. 
 
 * * * 
 
 Having thus considered the important effects of an habitual 
 regard to God in all our ways, I come to treat of the most 
 proper and effectual methods of promoting this temper of 
 mind. 
 
46 HABITUAL DEVOTION. 
 
 1. If you be really desirous to cultivate this habitual 
 devotion, endeavour, in the first place, to divest your minds 
 of too great a multiplicity of the cares of this world. The 
 man who lives to God, in the manner which I have been 
 endeavouring to describe, lives to him principally, and loves 
 and confides in him above all. To be solicitous about this 
 world, therefore, as if our chief happiness consisted in it, 
 must be incompatible with this devotion. We cannot serve 
 God and Mammon. If we be Christians, we should con- 
 sider, that the great and professed object of our religion, 
 is the revelation of a future life, of unspeakably more im- 
 portance to us than this transitory world, and the perishable 
 things of it. As Christians, we should consider ourselves 
 as citizens of heaven, and only strangers and pilgrims here 
 below. We must therefore see, that, as Christians, there is 
 certainly required of us a considerable degree of indifference 
 about this world, which was only intended to serve us as a 
 passage to a better. 
 
 The Divine Being himself has made wise provision for 
 lessening the cares of this world, by the appointment of one 
 day in seven, for the purpose of rest and avocation from 
 labor. Let us then, at least, take the advantage which this 
 day gives us, of "calling off our eyes from beholding vanity," 
 and of " quickening us in the ways of God." 
 
 This advice I would particularly recommend to those 
 persons who are engaged in arts, manufactures, and commerce. 
 For, highly beneficial as these things are, in a political view, 
 and subservient to the elegant enjoyment of life, they seem 
 not to be so favorable to religion and devotion, as the busi- 
 ness of agriculture ; and for this reason, therefore, probably 
 among others, the Divine Being forbade commerce to the 
 people of the Jews, and gave them such laws as are chiefly 
 adapted to a life of husbandry. The husbandman is in a 
 situation peculiarly favorable to the contemplation of the 
 works of God, and to a sense of his dependence upon him. 
 The rain from heaven, and various circumstances relating to 
 
HABITUAL DEVOTION. 47 
 
 the weather, &c., on which the goodness of his crops depends, 
 he receives as from the hand of God, and is hardly sensible 
 of any secondary or more immediate cause. If he under- 
 stand any thing of the principles of vegetation, and can 
 account for a k\v obvious appearances upon what we call the 
 laws of nature ; these laws he knows to be the express 
 appointment of God ; and he cannot help perceiving the 
 wisdom and goodness of God in the appointment ; so that 
 the objects about which he is daily conversant, are, in their 
 nature, a lesson of gratitude and praise. 
 
 Besides, the employment of the husbandman being chiefly 
 to bring food out of the earth, his attention is more confined 
 to the real wants or at least, the principal conveniencies, of 
 life; and his mind is not, like that of the curious artist and 
 manufacturer, so liable to be fascinated by a taste for super- 
 fluities, and the fictitious wants of men. 
 
 Nor, lastly, does the business of husbandry so wholly 
 engross a man's thoughts and attention, while he is employed 
 about it, as many of the arts and manufactures, and as 
 commerce necessarily does. And it should be a general rule 
 with us, that the more attention of mind our employment in 
 life requires, the more careful should we be to draw our 
 thoughts from it, on the day of rest, and at other intervals of 
 time set apart for devotional purposes. Otherwise, a worldly- 
 minded temper, not being checked or controlled by any thing 
 of a contrary tendency, will necessarily get possession of our 
 hearts. 
 
 2. This brings me to the second advice, which is, by no 
 means to omit stated times of worshipping God by prayer, 
 putlic and private. Every passion and affection in our 
 frame is strengthened by the proper and natural expression 
 of it. Thus frequent intercourse and conversation with 
 those we love promote friendship, and so also the inter- 
 course we keep up with God by prayer, in which we express 
 our reverence and love of him and our confidence in him, 
 promotes a spirit of devotion, and makes it easier for the 
 
48 HABITUAL DEVOTION. 
 
 ideas of the Divine Being and his providence to occur to 
 the mind on other occasions, when we are not formally 
 praying to him. Besides, if persons whose thoughts are 
 much employed in the husiness of this life, had no time set 
 apart for tlie exercises of devotion, they would be in danger 
 of neglecting it entirely ; at least, to a degree that would be 
 attended with a great diminution of their virtue and happiness. 
 But, in order that the exercises of devotion may be the 
 most efficacious to promote the true spirit and general habit 
 of it, it is advisable that prayers, properly so called, that is, 
 direct addresses to the Divine Being, be short. The strong 
 feelings of reverence, love, and confidence, which ought to 
 animate our devotions, cannot be kept up in such minds as 
 ours, through a prayer of considerable length ; and a tedious 
 languor in prayer is of great disservice to the life of religion, 
 as it accustoms the mind to think of God with indifference ; 
 whereas, it is of the utmost consequence, that the Divine 
 Being always appear to us as an object of the greatest im- 
 portance, and engage the whole attention of our souls. 
 Except, therefore, in public, where prayers of a greater 
 length are, in a manner, necessary, and where the presence 
 and concurrence of our fellow-worshippers assist to keep up 
 the fervor of our common devotion, it seems more advisa- 
 ble, that devotional exercises have intervals of meditation, 
 calculated to impress our minds more deeply with the sen- 
 timents we express ; and that they be used without any 
 
 strict regard to particular times, places, or posture of body. 
 
 * * * 
 
 3. In the course of your usual employments, omit no 
 proper opportunity of turning your thoughts towards God. 
 Habitually regard him as the ultimate cause, and proper 
 author of every thing you see, and the disposer of all events 
 that respect yourselves or others. This will not fail to make 
 the idea of God occur familiarly to your mind, and influence 
 your whole conduct. 
 
HABITUAL DEVOTION. 49 
 
 4. In a more especial manner, never fail to have recourse 
 to God upon every occasion of strong emotion of mind 
 whether it be of a pleasurable, or of a painful nature. When 
 your mind is laboring under distressing doubts and great 
 anxiety, or when you are in any way embarrassed in the 
 conduct of your affairs, fly to God, as your friend and father, 
 your counsellor and your guide. In a sincere and earnest 
 endeavour to discharge your duty, and to act the upright 
 and honorable part, commit your way unto him, repose your- 
 selves upon his providence, confiding in his care to overrule 
 everything for the best; and you will find a great, and almost 
 instantaneous relief. Your perturbation of mind will sub- 
 side, as by a charm, and the storm will become a settled calm. 
 Tumultuous and excessive joy will also be moderated by this 
 means ; and thus all your emotions will be rendered more 
 equable, more pleasurable, and more lasting. And this is 
 produced not by any supernatural agency of God on the 
 mind, but is the natural eflTect of placing entire confidence 
 in a Being of perfect wisdom and goodness. 
 
 But the capital advantage you will derive from this prac- 
 tice will be, that the idea of God being, by this means, 
 associated with all the strongest emotions of your mind, 
 your whole stock of devotional sentiments and feelings will 
 be increased. All those strong emotions, now separately 
 indistinguishable, will coalesce with the idea of God, and 
 make part of the complex train of images suggested by the 
 term, so that you will afterwards think of God oftener, and 
 with more fervor than before ; and the thought of him will 
 have greater influence with you than ever. 
 
 5. In order to cultivate the spirit of habitual devotion, 
 labor to free your minds from all consciousness of guilt 
 and self-reproach, by means of a constant attention to the 
 upright and steady discharge of the whole of your duty. 
 In consequence of neglecting our duty, we become back- 
 wards, as we may say, to make our appearance before God. 
 We cannot iook up to him with full confidence of hia 
 
 4 
 
50 HABITUAL DEVOTION. 
 
 favor and blessing ; and are, therefore, too apt to omit 
 devotion entirely. Besides, we always feel an aversion to 
 the exercise of self-abasement and contrition, which are all 
 the sentiments that we can with propriety indulge in those 
 circumstances ; especially as we have a secret suspicion, 
 that we shall, for some time at least, go on to live as 
 we have done ; so that rather than confess our sins, and 
 continue to live in them, we choose not to make confession 
 at all. 
 
 But this, my brethren, is egregious trifling, and highly 
 dano-erous. Thus, at best, all improvement is at a stand 
 with us, if we be not going fatally backwards in our moral 
 state. If this be our character (as I believe it is, more or 
 less, that of a very great number even of those I have called 
 the better sort of the middle classes of men) let us in time, 
 and in good earnest, cast oif all our sins, negligences, and 
 follies, by true repentance. Let us draw near, and acquaint 
 ourselves with God, that we may be at peace. You can 
 have no true peace, assurance, or satisfaction of mind in 
 this life without it : for, if you be of the class I am now 
 referring to, it is too late for you to have a perfect enjoy- 
 ment of a life of sin and dissipation. And between that 
 kind of peace, or rather stupor, which those who are aban- 
 doned to wickedness, those who are wholly addicted to this 
 world and make it their sole end (or those who are grossly 
 ignorant of religion) enjoy, and that inward peace and satis- 
 faction which accompanies the faithful and earnest discharge 
 of every known duty, there is no suflicient medium. You 
 may go about seeking rest in this wide space, while your 
 hearts are divided between God and the world, but you will 
 find none ; whereas, the fruit of righteousness, of a sincere 
 and impartial, though imperfect, obedience to the law of God, 
 is peace and assurance for ever. 
 
 6. To facilitate the exercise of devotion, cultivate in your 
 minds just ideas of God with whom you have to do upon 
 those occasions, and divest your minds, as far as possible, of 
 
HABITUAL DEVOTION". 51 
 
 all superstitious and dishonorable notions of him. Consider 
 him as the good Father of the prodigal son, in that excellent 
 parable of our Saviour. Let it sink deep into your minds, as 
 one of the most important of all principles, that the God with 
 whom we have to do, is essentially, of himself, and without 
 regard to any foreign consideration whatever, " abundant in 
 mercy, not willing that any should perish, but that he had 
 rather that all should come to repentance ; " and then, not- 
 withstanding you consider yourselves as frail, imperfect, and 
 sinful creatures ; and though you cannot help accusing your- 
 selves of much negligence, folly, and vice ; you may still 
 approach him with perfect confidence, in his readiness to 
 receive, love and cherish you, upon your sincere return to 
 him. 
 
 In this light our Lord Jesus Christ always represented " his 
 Father and our Father, his God and our God." This is the 
 most solid ground of consolation to minds burdened with a 
 sense of guilt ; and what is of great advantage, it is the most 
 natural, the most easy and intelligible of all others. If 
 once you quit this firm hold, you involve yourselves in a 
 system, and a labyrinth, in which you either absolutely find 
 no rest and wander in uncertainty and horror ; or, if you do 
 attain to any thing of assurance, it is of such a kind, and in 
 such a manner, as can hardly fail to feed that spiritual pride 
 which will lead you to despise others ; nay, unless counter- 
 acted by other causes, too often ends in a spirit of censo- 
 
 riousness, hatred, and persecution. 
 
 * * * 
 
 We well know, my Christian brethren, what it is that the 
 Lord our God requires of us, in order to live and to die in 
 his favor ; namely, " to do justly, and to love mercy, and to 
 walk humbly with our God." To this plain path of duty, 
 then, let us adhere, without being anxious about any thing 
 farther. Whether we have those fervors of devotion which 
 some feel, and are apt to be proud of, or not, we shall expe- 
 rience that great peace of mind which all those have who 
 
52 HABITUAL DEVOTION. 
 
 keep God's law ; and having lived the life of the righteous, 
 our latter end will also be like his ; the foundation of our joy 
 being " the testimony of our consciences, that in simplicity 
 and godly sincerity, — we have had our conversation in the 
 world." 
 
 It is true, we are imperfect, sinful creatures ; but, not- 
 withstanding this, we have all possible encouragement given 
 us to trust in the abundant mercy of our gracious God and 
 Father, in that mercy which is essential to his nature, as a 
 Being who is infinitely good, and who is love itself; and 
 which, if we could entertain the least doubt concerning it, 
 he has fully declared to all the world, by Moses and the 
 prophets, by Jesus Christ and hife apostles, whom he sent 
 into the world to preach the grateful doctrine of repentance 
 and remission of sins, thereby to redeem (that is, to deliver) 
 us from all iniquity and to reconcile us to God. Animated, 
 therefore, by the glorious promises of the gospel, let us, my 
 Christian brethren, be " steadfast, unmoveable, always 
 abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that our labor 
 shall not finally be in vain in the Lord." 
 
SOCIAL AND PUBLIC WORSHIP. 
 
 If an attention be paid to the real principles of human na- 
 ture, which Mr. Wakefield calls the character of the human 
 mind, it appears to me, that we must perceive the wisdom 
 of all the usual means of virtue, and of social prayer among 
 the rest, as what every man, be his attainments what they 
 will, really needs, and may usefully avail himself of Every 
 passion or affection of our minds is strengthened by proper 
 exercise ; and all the social passions (and those of devotion 
 are all of this class) are best e.xercised in company. Will 
 any person pretend that he can be so cheerful alone, as in the 
 company of those who are as much exhilarated as himself? 
 Does not every man feel the glow of patriotism with double 
 fervor when others join him in expressing the same patriotic 
 sentiments ? Is not this the principle on which all clubs, 
 and social meetings of that kind, are formed ? Must not, 
 then, the sentiments of devotion be felt with peculiar fer- 
 vor when others join us in them, either in hymns or in 
 prayer ? Let any man go into a Catholic church, abroad, 
 where he will see, as I have done, the natural expressions of 
 devotion, unrestrained by shame, and where there is no sus- 
 picion of hypocrisy, and say whether he be not excited to 
 devotion by the sight. If he do not choose to go into a 
 church, he may be some judge in this case by seeing even 
 the counterfeit devotion of an actor on the stage, or viewing 
 it in a good picture, 
 
54 SOCIAL AND PUBLIC WORSHIP. 
 
 Certainly there are seasons in which it is best for a man 
 to be alone, and to pour out his heart before his Father, who 
 seeth in secret; but at other times, especially when the 
 mind is less disposed to fervor, it is equally advantageous 
 to join in the common forms of adoration, confession, thanks- 
 giving, and petition, with others. We also feel the senti- 
 ments of brotherly love with peculiar warmth when we pre- 
 sent ourselves at the same time in the presence of our com- 
 mon Father, and jointly express the feelings that belong to 
 our common and most interesting relation to him. This 
 practice must, in a more especial manner, tend to repress all 
 resentment, and promote compassion and good-will. We 
 are all the offending children of the same Parent, and equally 
 stand in need of the same indulgence and mercy : let us 
 therefore join in supplicating it together. 
 
 I do not say that our present forms of devotion will suit 
 a man in the more advanced state of being to which he will 
 be raised in the state after death, because I know nothing of 
 that state ; but they appear to be well adapted to human 
 nature in this present state ; and we shall consult our im- 
 provement infinitely better by conforming to them, than 
 by attempting to get above them, and disregarding them. 
 Besides, the bulk of mankind will never be in that high 
 class of Christians which does not stand in need of the usual 
 modes of improvement ; and, in whatever rank our vanity 
 may lead us to place ourselves, we should consider how our 
 example may affect them. 
 
 You may think that you can employ your time more use- 
 fully in your closet than you can do in the church, or the 
 meeting-house ; and in some cases no doubt you may ; there 
 being no general rule without some exceptions ; and essential 
 social duties may well occasionally supersede the attendance 
 on public worship. But, in general, I am well persuaded 
 that a man cannot spend his time to better purpose than by 
 setting an example of a regard to the forms of religion to 
 those who look up to him ,• to say nothing of the improve- 
 
SOCIAL AND PUBLIC WORSHIP. 55 
 
 ment that he may himself receive there, if he give due atten- 
 tion to the duties of the place. If he be inattentive to them, 
 he may feel his time pass irksomely enough ; and, as far as 
 his own improvement is concerned, it might have been bet- 
 ter for him to have been elsewhere ; but the same objection 
 will lie against any other duty, in any other place. 
 
 The mind is improved by a repetition of good impressions. 
 We all know that a serious turn of mind is acquired by read- 
 ing serious books, and by serious conversation ; and that 
 levity of mind is acquired by impressions of an opposite 
 nature ; and if every person be the better for hearing a good 
 discourse, on a moral subject, when the attention is not 
 fatigued by the length of it, some real improvement may 
 be had from a repetition of the same sentiments and ideas 
 expressed in the form of a prayer, provided that be not too 
 long. 
 
 There appear to me to be unreasonable complaints of 
 long prayers, when pious discourses, of much greater length, 
 are not particularly complained of; and a prayer may be 
 considered as a particular mode of presenting the same pious 
 sentiments to the mind, so that the hearer of it may be 
 edified, whether he join in it so as to make it his own prayer 
 or not. If this exercise, which requires a considerable effort 
 of the mental faculties, be omitted, the mind, in a passive 
 state, will still be subject to the impression of useful senti- 
 ments, and may derive considerable advantages from the 
 
 service. 
 
 * * # 
 
 It is even wise in a man to use some little effort with him- 
 self, and not to desist from religious exercises on the first 
 symptoms of weariness, but to persevere in his attention to 
 what he hears ; and this is no more than we are obliged to 
 do in a thousand other cases, and what we find our account 
 in. An exercise of any kind that is tiresome at first may 
 not only cease to be tiresome, but even become pleasant, so 
 that we cannot well do without it ; and if it be omitted, we 
 
56 SOCIAL AND PUBLIC WORSHIP. 
 
 shall feel a vacuity which nothing else can supply. This 
 will be equally the case with religious exercises ; and is it 
 not desirable that the mind be brought into such a state as 
 not only to bear, but to relish, religious exercises of all 
 kinds ; since it must be an effectual security to virtue ? We 
 know by reading and observation, that some persons have 
 been able to relish nothing so much. Our Saviour could 
 continue a whole night in prayer to God ; and the apostle 
 exhorts us, no doubt from his own practice, to pray without 
 ceasing; and, allowing for strong expressions, there must 
 surely be some meaning in such language as this. 
 
 If we discontinue religious exercises in public, we shall 
 in time become less disposed to them in private, and be in 
 danger of losing all sense of habitual devotion, except Avhat 
 may remain from former good impressions. Habits of piety 
 or benevolence require not only to be formed, but to be kept 
 up and invigorated by repeated acts ; and sure I am, that 
 this habitual devotion, which is the highest attainment of 
 man, and the most perfective of his rational nature, can never 
 be acquired or kept up without such frequent meditation on 
 subjects of religion, reading the Scriptures, and actual or 
 virtual prayer, as will not in general be attained without the 
 aid of public worship, in which the attention will be necessa- 
 rily solicited at least by proper objects ; where the Scriptures 
 are always more or less read, where proper discourses are 
 delivered, and where the Supreme Being is invoked, and 
 numbers join in the same forms of adoration. 
 
 In all matters of great importance, it is our wisdom not 
 to depend wholly on voluntary acts, but to lay ourselves 
 under a kind of necessity of doing tliat which is only ulti- 
 mately, and not immediately and obviously beneficial to 
 us. If a young person had nothing of the nature of a task 
 imposed upon him, he would hardly be brought to learn 
 any thing. Before he could be brought to apply from free 
 choice, the proper season of acquiring some branches of 
 knowledge would be past, and could never be recalled. 
 
SOCIAL AND PUBLIC WORSHIP. 57 
 
 Now, in many respects, we are all but children and in our 
 noviciate, and we shall act a very unwise part, if we leave 
 those practices which furnish the elements of religious feel- 
 ings and habits, to our own arbitrary pleasure. In this case 
 the practice will often be neglected, and, consequently, the 
 habit will never be formed. 
 
 It is happy for many persons that the force of custom 
 operates as a kind of law, and obliges them to attend to acts 
 of public and private devotion from their early years, and 
 even through the whole of life. By this means they are 
 continually kept within the influence of good impressions, 
 the silent operation of which is unspeakably beneficial to 
 them. It may sometimes subject them to pass an hour in 
 a manner rather unpleasant to them, but by degrees they 
 become reconciled to it; so that, from being irksome, it 
 becomes tolerable, and from tolerable, such as, whether 
 positively pleasurable or not, they do not know how to do 
 without. However, by this means they are kept out of the 
 paths of vice, and in the practice of virtue. 
 
 I own myself to be so far from Christian perfection, that 
 I think myself happy in such a necessary mode of spending 
 my time, especially on Sundays, as serves to keep up a 
 constant attention to my situation as an accountable being, 
 to my relation to God, and my dependance upon him, so 
 that I cannot be long without being reminded of my destina- 
 tion to a future and everlasting state ; as by this means I 
 hope I am more in the way of acquiring those sentiments 
 and habits which will qualify me for it. Let others fancy 
 that they can do without these ordinary helps ; I cannot but 
 think there would be more wisdom in a greater distrust of 
 themselves. " Happy is he that feareth always." 
 
PRAYER FOR TEMPORAL BLESSINGS. 
 
 In what unqualified, and therefore indecent, manner, some 
 persons may pray for health, or for any thing else, I cannot 
 say, and therefore cannot defend. But that health, or any 
 other temporal blessing, or what is usually deemed such, 
 may be very innocently prayed for, I have no doubt, if we 
 conduct ourselves by scripture precept or example. Heze- 
 kiah prayed most earnestly for recovery from sickness, that 
 is, for health and life, and was not censured, but graciously 
 heard. David both prayed and gave thanks for the same 
 blessing, and others of a similar nature ; and our Lord 
 authorizes us to pray for our daily bread, which is the means 
 of supporting health and life. 
 
 If the mere possibility of any thing being no blessing, but 
 a curse to us, be a reason why we should not pray for it, 
 such is our ignorance, that we ought to forbear to pray for 
 any thing. What is there in nature that is absolutely, and 
 universally, either good or evil 1 Certainly not life itself, or 
 any thing that contributes to the preservation of it. Nay, 
 as we ought, in strictness, to judge of moral as of natural 
 things, can any person be absolutely certain that he shall 
 not be ultimately better, as Peter probably was, for falling 
 by any particular temptation ? Might he not, therefore, on 
 this principle, question the propriety of our Saviour's direc- 
 tion, to pray that we be not led into temptation ? Surely, 
 
PRAYER FOR TEMPORAL BLESSINGS. 59 
 
 then, seeing to what it leads, we cannot be too careful how 
 we give way to the idea of aiming at a degree of refinement 
 and perfection, in the method of devotion, unknown to Christ 
 or the apostles, so as to think ourselves at liberty to depart 
 from their principles and practice. 
 
 We are certainly allowed by an universal and most indul- 
 gent Parent, who knoweth our frame, (and the practice is 
 abundantly authorized in the Scriptures,) to indulge our natu- 
 ral wishes for whatever appears to us to be good for us at 
 the time, and also to express that wish in the form of a 
 prayer ; but always with due submission to the will of God, 
 who knows better than we do what is really good for us. 
 Christ even prayed to be excused the pains of a violent death, 
 though he had been apprized that it was the wise intention 
 of God that he should submit to them, and was prepared so 
 to do. To pretend to greater refinement and greater strength 
 of mind than this, is unnatural. We only deceive and injure 
 ourselves by the attempt. 
 
OSTENTATION IN RELIGION. 
 
 You think, that by refusing to pray in public, you avoid 
 ostentation, which is certainly a bad thing, and ought, no 
 doubt, to be guarded against. But an apparent indifference 
 to religion is another bad thing, and therefore ought likewise 
 to be guarded against ; and how is it to be known that a 
 man is devout at all, if no person ever see, or know him to 
 be so ? To avoid ostentation on this rigorous idea, not only 
 must a man never pray out of his closet, but be careful that 
 it be not known that he prays, even there ; because his 
 retiring for that purpose will, if it be known, have the same 
 effect. And since the same reason requires that similar 
 precautions be taken with respect to alms-giving, and every 
 other moral virtue, how is the religious man to be distin- 
 guished from the irreligious, at least from the careless and 
 indifferent ? Is no man ever to discover any zeal for religion, 
 or is his zeal to be shown in words only, and never by his 
 actions, lest his conduct should savor of ostentation ? 
 
 Our Lord absolutely requires of his disciples, that they 
 should confess him before men ; for that, otherwise, he will 
 not confess or acknowledge them before his heavenly Father 
 and the holy angels. But how is this to be done upon the 
 plan of refraining from all public worship, and even from 
 celebrating the Lord's Supper ? Is there to be no outward 
 badge or visible token of a man's being a Christian ? Is he 
 to wait till he be interrogated on the subject? The primitive 
 Christians thought and acted very differently. 
 
OSTENTATION IN RELIGION. 61 
 
 Ostentation of religion is not the vice of the present age. 
 Mankind in general are verging to the opposite extreme. 
 You may even attend to the whole conversation and con- 
 duct of many persons, who make profession of Christianity, 
 and even habitually attend public worship, and, except in 
 that single circumstance, you would not be able to discover 
 whether they were Christians or not. How much more 
 difficult, then, must it be to discover the Christianity of 
 the man who does not attend Christian worship, never joining 
 in the devotions of his fellow-christians, either in the church, 
 or in his family ! Ostentation of religion has existed in this 
 country, especially among the Puritans and Dissenters ; but 
 there are few traces of it to be found at present. The pe- 
 culiar practices mentioned with ridicule and contempt by 
 Mr. Wakefield, (but which I own I should look upon with 
 respect,) I never heard of before. Why, then, so much pre- 
 caution against a vice from which there is no danger ? It is 
 like directing our whole force to the defence of one side of a 
 fortress, when the enemy is making a breach at the opposite 
 side. 
 
 Let us consider a little what is the ground of this so much 
 dreaded ostentation. It is a man's valuing himself on some- 
 thing that is uncommon ; not on doing what is merely proper 
 in itself, and simply his duty, but something more than is 
 expected of him. But is this the case with respect to the 
 homage we owe our Maker ? Why should it be deemed a 
 subject of ostentation to acknowledge the being and provi- 
 dence of God, and our obligation and subjection to him? Is 
 this a thing so extraordinary as to afford just cause of boast- 
 ing ? And if I do acknowledge the being and providence of 
 God, and should not be ashamed to profess it, if I were inter- 
 rogated on the subject, where can be the impropriety of doing 
 it in the most public, as well as in the most private manner ? 
 If I wish, as I think I ought to do, that my belief, and corres- 
 ponding practice, should be known, for the sake of any influ- 
 ence that it may have on others, am I not under obligation to 
 
62 OSTENTATION IN RELIGION. 
 
 do it in public, that my neighbours and the world may know 
 that I do it? David thought himself bound in duty to do 
 this " in the presence of all the people." Daniel was not 
 content with praying in secret at the court of Babylon, but 
 chose to pray in such a manner as to show that he was neither 
 ashamed nor afraid to do it ; and he is not blamed for his 
 ostentation on that account. 
 
 When you have considered with attention what I have 
 advanced in these Letters, in favor of public worship, I 
 flatter myself you will be convinced of the reasonableness 
 and real value of it ; and not be carried away, as young 
 persons are apt to be, with what has nothing to recommend 
 it besides its novelty, seeming liberality, and remoteness 
 from vulgar prejudice. Be especially upon your guard 
 against that dislike of restraint which is peculiarly incident 
 to youth, and suspect yourself, and suspend your determi- 
 nations, when the experience of mankind is against you. 
 An institution recommended by the constant observance of 
 all acres and all nations, and especially all Christians, and 
 which has never been objected to before yesterday, will 
 probably be found to have serious uses, and certainly should 
 not be abandoned till after a very deliberate examination. 
 
FAMILY WORSHIP. 
 
 Family prayer, if not of absolute necessity, is of great use 
 in all Christian families. Dr. Hartley, one of the most ju- 
 dicious, as well as most pious of men, says, " I believe it may 
 be laid down as a certain fact, that no master or mistress of 
 a family can have a true concern for religion, or be a chUd 
 of God, who does not take care to worship by family prayer. 
 Let the observation of the fact determine." I would not 
 choose to express myself quite in this manner, since much 
 must be allowed for the different circumstances of families ; 
 but thus much may certainly be said with truth, — that if the 
 practice of family prayer, or any other mode in which we give 
 evidence to the world that we are Christians, be forborne 
 through shame, or a com.pliance with the modes of the world, 
 we have no just claim to the title and privilege of Christians, 
 but fall under the awful sentence of Christ, " Whosoever 
 shall be ashamed of me, and of my words, in this — genera- 
 tion, of him will the Son of Man be ashamed, when he cometh 
 in the glory of his Father, with the holy angels." 
 
 Every practice by which we declare our belief of Chris- 
 tianity, such as attending Christian worship, receiving the 
 Lord's Supper, or performing any other acknowledged Chris- 
 tian duty, tends to strengthen our faith, to inspire the pro- 
 per spirit of the profession, and secure the performance of 
 every duty which it enjoins ; and, therefore, should by no 
 means be neglected by us. 
 
64 FAMILY WORSHIP. 
 
 Thus should we be urgent, even to exhort one another, and 
 all should gladly and thankfully receive " the word of exhort- 
 ation ; " to " be steadfast, unmoveable, always abounding in 
 the work of the Lord, knowing that our labor will not be in 
 vain in the Lord." 
 
 The author of this epistle says, We should exhort one 
 another " so much the more as we see the day " (meaning, 
 no doubt, the great day, or the second coming of Christ) 
 "approaching." If this motive had weight in the times of 
 the apostles, it must have more now ; since that great day, 
 which will " try every man's work of what sort it is," must 
 be nearer than it was then ; and though this time was not 
 known to our Lord himself, but only the signs of its approach, 
 many intelligent Christians, who are attentive to the signs of 
 the times, are of opinion that it cannot now be far distant, 
 and may be expected even in the present generation. But 
 since the coming is certain, though the time be uncertain, 
 let us be ready, that, when our Lord shall return and take 
 account of his servants, we may be found without spot, and 
 not be ashamed before him at his coming. 
 
OBSERVANCE OF THE LORD'S DAY. 
 
 If one day in seven be appointed to be a season of rest 
 from labor, and for serious recollection of mind, by that 
 Being who has made us capable both of labor and of reflec- 
 tion, let us conscientiously appropriate this, as well as every 
 other portion of our time, to the use for which it was in- 
 tended, and for which, we may therefore presume, it is really 
 wanted ; and let us not, out of too great a dread of supersti- 
 tion (wliich ought certainly to be guarded against, in this as 
 well as in every thing else), pass into the contrary extreme, 
 of a gross abuse of a divine ordinance, and a scandalous 
 licentiousness of conduct. 
 
 Works of necessity and mercy are allowed to be a sufficient 
 reason for setting aside the distinction of the Lord's day from 
 the rest ; but that journey, for instance, cannot be said to 
 be necessary, for which nothing but convenience can be 
 pleaded ; neither can it be necessary to confine yourselves 
 at home by taking a medicine on that day, when your health 
 would not suffer by its being taken on the day before, or 
 the day after. Also a cold, or other slight indisposition, is 
 with a very ill grace pleaded as an excuse for absence from 
 public worship, by those who are known to run much greater 
 risks on other accounts. I wish it were merely a matter of 
 doubt, whether, in many cases, the plea of necessity be justly 
 alleged, and that it could be supposed that persons acted 
 according to their judgments, though biassed by their in- 
 clinations. But, alas ! so generally, and so manifestly, is 
 business of a nature altogether foreign to the proper desigri 
 5 
 
66 OBSERVANCE OF THE LORd's DAY. 
 
 of the Lord's day thrown into it, by many persons, that it 
 cannot be accounted for but by supposing it to be the effect 
 of particular design and contrivance ; which, being a wilful 
 neglect of an acknowledged duty, certainly argues a want of 
 the fear of God, and the absence of religious principle, 
 properly so called. 
 
THE LORD'S SUPPER. 
 
 The Lord's supper, consisting of eating bread, and drink- 
 ing wine, is a religious rile instituted by Christ, in com- 
 memoration of his death ; the breaking of the bread, more 
 especially representing the wounding of the body of Christ, 
 and the pouring out of the wine the shedding of his blood ; 
 and this rite is to continue to be celebrated by the disciples 
 of Christ till his second coming. 
 
 The design of this institution being to serve as a memo~ 
 rial, or record, of that important fact of the death of Christ, 
 it may be considered as one monument of the truth of the 
 Christian religion, as was observed in a preceding part of 
 this work. 
 
 Being more especially a memorial of the death of Christ, 
 in which he chiefly manifested the love that he bore to man- 
 kind, it furnishes the most proper opportunity of recollect- 
 ing the love of Christ, and rejoicing in the consideration of 
 the blessings of his gospel. 
 
 Since this rite is peculiar to Christians, it likewise serves 
 as a public declaration of our being Christians ; and is, con- 
 sequently, a recognising of the obligation we are under to 
 live as becomes Christians : for no man can say that he is a 
 Christian, and especially in a public and solemn manner, 
 without acknowledging that he is obliged to live as becomes 
 a Christian. Joining habitually in public worship, implies 
 very much the same thing. 
 
 Lastly, as, in this rite, we more especially commemorate 
 the death of Christ, it serves to remind us, that we are the 
 
68 THE lord's supper. 
 
 professed disciples of a crucified Master; and, therefore, 
 must not expect better treatment from tliis world than our 
 Lord met with from it : that we must lay our account with 
 meeting with hardships, reproach, and persecution, as i:e did, 
 and that we should contentedly and patiently bear them, 
 rather than quit the profession of our faith, or do any thing 
 unworthy of it; in full assurance that, if "we suffer" v/ith 
 Christ, " we shall also reign with him," and " be glorified 
 together." 
 
 This rite having such excellent moral uses, and the cele- 
 bration of it being an express command of Christ, who said, 
 " Do this in remembrance of me," I do not see how any 
 person, professing Christianity, can satisfy himself with 
 refusing to join in it. In the primitive times, the celebra- 
 tion of the Lord's supper made a part of the ordinary service 
 every Lord's day, and every person who was thought worthy 
 to be considered as a member of a body of Christians par- 
 took of it. Whenever, indeed, any person professing Chris- 
 tianity behaved in a manner unworthy of the Christian 
 name, so as to be in danger of bringing a reproach upon it, 
 he was excommunicated ; in consequence of which, he was 
 cut off from joining in any part of Christian worship, and 
 from this among the rest ; but there was no distinction made 
 between this and other parts of the service, especially the 
 prayers of the church. An excommunicated person was 
 one who was publicly declared not to belong to a Christian 
 society : and, therefore, the church would not consent to 
 any thing that should imply their acknowledging him in the 
 character of a brother, and declined associating with him. 
 The reason of this conduct was most evident ; because the 
 o-ood name of Christians, and of Christian societies, was a 
 thing of the greatest consequence to the propagation of 
 Christianity in those early times ; and it ought to be con-' 
 sidercd, at all times, as a matter of great consequence. 
 
 Considering that Christ absolutely requires of all his dis- 
 ciples the most jopen and public profession of his religion, 
 
THE LORD S SUPPER. Oy 
 
 notwithstanding all the hazards to which it may expose 
 them, and has declared, that unless we " confess him before 
 men," he will not acknowledge us before his heavenly 
 Father; it certainly behoves all Christians to take this, as 
 well as every other method, of declaring, in a public manner, 
 their profession of Christianity. Moreover, as baptism is 
 generally administered in infancy, and is not the act of the 
 person baptized, it seems necessary that there should be 
 some public act, by which those who are baptized in their 
 infancy should openly, and in their own persons, declare 
 themselves Christians ; and the most proper manner of doing 
 this is certainly the receiving of the Lord's supper. 
 
 According to the custom of the primitive church, a cus- 
 tom so ancient and uncontroverted, as, with me, to carry 
 sufficient evidence of its having been an apostolical one, all 
 persons who are baptized, children as well as others, should 
 receive the Lord's supper. It is nothing less than the 
 revival of this custom that will secure a general attendance 
 upon this ordinance ; and no objection can be made to it, 
 except what may, with equal strength, be made to bringing 
 children to public worship at all, since they are as incapable 
 of understanding the one as the other. Nor would this 
 ancient and useful custom have been ever laid aside, if it 
 had not been for the introduction of a train of .superstitious 
 notions, which made this plain and simple ordinance appear 
 continually more mysterious and awful; till, at length, the 
 monstrous doctrine of transubstantiation was completely es- 
 tablished. 
 
 Indeed, it is not a little remarkable, that the custom of 
 giving the eucharist to children, was not finally abolished in 
 any place till that doctrine had obtained the full sanction of 
 the church of Rome ; and that it maintains its ground to 
 this very day, in all those Christian churches which were 
 never subject to that anti-christian power, whose spiritual 
 usurpations and corruptions of the gospel have been immense, 
 and have extended to almost every thing belonging to it. 
 
70 THE lord's supper. 
 
 Such, and so simple, is the Christian rite of the Lord's 
 Supper. For surely, then, all who have any value for Chris- 
 tianity will attend upon it, as wearing the proper badge of 
 their profession. Be the moral use of this rite more or less, 
 or even nothing at all, yet that it was appointed to be ob- 
 served by one who had a right to appoint it, viz. the Founder 
 of our faith, cannot be questioned. 
 
 One reason why it is so much neglected, is evidently an 
 indifference to Christianity, in consequence of which none 
 of its ordinances will be attended upon, any farther than 
 public decency requires. But with many this neglect is 
 owing to a secret superstition, as if there was something 
 peculiarly hazardous in attending upon it unworthily in con- 
 sequence of the apostle Paul saying, in his account of it, 
 that such Avould receive judgment to themselves ; (for so it 
 ought to be rendered, and not damnation, as in our version.) 
 But from his account of the irregularities of the Corinthians 
 in their celebration of this ordinance, it is evident that by 
 unworthily he meant improperly , not distinguishing it from 
 a common entertainment ; and that by judgment he either 
 simply meant censure, or some temporal judgment, with which 
 he supposed that they were visited on that account. It has 
 no reference whatever to the state of man after death. Our 
 only danger arises from professing Christianity itself, without 
 living as becomes Christians ; and this obligation affects all 
 who will call themselves Christians, whether they attend to 
 this particular ordinance or not. 
 
STUDY OF THE SCRIPTURES. 
 
 It will be inquired by what means the influence of the 
 world can be counteracted, or by what means a due attention 
 to Christian principles can be well secured. I answer, the 
 principal means to effect this great purpose, and one that 
 will naturally lead to every other, is a familiar acquaintance 
 with the Scriptures. The zealous Christian will make these 
 books his constant companions. With the pious Psalmist, 
 " his delight will be in the law of the Lord, and in his law 
 will he meditate day and night." 
 
 Be assured that in reading the Scriptures ever so often, 
 you will always find something new and interesting. Many 
 difficulties you will, no doubt, meet with, as may be ex- 
 pected in books of such great antiquity, written, many of 
 them, in a language which is but imperfectly understood, 
 and abounding with allusions to customs, with which we, 
 in this part of the world, are unacquainted, and which, being 
 in many respects the reverse of ours, will of course appear 
 unnatural. But new light is thrown upon things of this 
 nature every day. Many difficulties are already cleared up 
 in the most satisfactory manner ; and in the mean time every 
 thing of this nature may be safely neglected, or referred to 
 farther consideration, especially if you read for the purpose 
 of moral improvement ; the greatest part of the Bible being 
 perfectly intelligible to every capacity, and in the highest 
 degree useful and edifying. 
 
 A familiar acquaintance with the Scriptures will preserve 
 upon the mind a lively sense of God and his moral govern- 
 
72 
 
 STUDY OF THE SCRIPTURES. 
 
 ment. It will continually bring into view, and give you a 
 habit of contemplating the great plan of providence, respect- 
 ing the designs of God in the creation of man, and his ulti- 
 mate destination. You will by this means have a clearer 
 view of the Divine wisdom and goodness in the government 
 of the world, even in the most calamitous events, as in the 
 corruption of true religion, as well as in the reformation of 
 it. You will perceive signs of order in the present seem- 
 ingly disordered state of things, and will rejoice in the pros- 
 pect of the glorious completion of the scheme, in universal 
 virtue and universal happiness. Such views of things as 
 these, which will be perpetually suggested by the reading of 
 the Scriptures, have the greatest tendency to ennoble and 
 enlarge the mind, to raise our thoughts and affections above 
 the low pursuits which wholly occupy and distract the minds 
 of the bulk of mankind ; they will inspire a most delightful 
 serenity in the midst of the cares and troubles of life, and 
 impart a joy which the world can neither give nor take away. 
 
 If, however, notwithstanding these recommendations, the 
 Scriptures, and other works illustrative of their contents, 
 have not engaged the attention, it behoves every person who 
 really wishes to imbibe the spirit of Christianity, to make 
 himself well acquainted with them, and to persist in the 
 reading and study of them, till he finds himself interested in 
 their contents, and imbibe the pious and benevolent temper 
 which is so conspicuous in the writers. And how irksome 
 soever, through disuse and other causes, the readino- of the 
 Scriptures, and of other books which have the same ten- 
 dency, may for some time be, perseverance will overcome 
 it ; and then, if I may speak from experience, no reading 
 will be so interesting or pleasing, and the satisfaction will 
 increase with every fresh perusal. 
 
 This circumstance enables us to account for the peculiar 
 pleasure that David and other pious Jews appear to have 
 derived from reading the Scriptures. They had few other 
 books ; so that if they read at all, they must have read them 
 
STUDY OF THE SCRIPTURES. 
 
 73 
 
 perpetually in their own houses, as well as have heard them 
 constantly read in the synagogues, from the time that they 
 had such places of public worship, which they certainly had 
 from the time of the Babylonish Captivity. At this day, 
 there are so many other books to engage the attention, that, 
 in too many cases, they totally exclude the reading of that 
 which is of infinitely more value than all the rest. 
 
 But whatever be the leisure that any person can command 
 for reading, some portion of it should by all means be appro- 
 priated to that kind of reading, the object of which is to 
 increase the knowledge which relates to our profession as 
 Christians. And this will lead to a course of reading both 
 curious and interesting, especially such as makes us ac- 
 quainted with the progress of Christianity in the world. No 
 kind of reading tends so much to counteract the influence 
 of the world and its principles as the lives of eminent Chris- 
 tians ; and most of all, the martyrs, whose piety, patience, 
 and fortitude, in cheerfully abandoning life and every thing 
 in it, for the sake of conscience, cannot fail to inspire some- 
 thing of the same excellent spirit ; and this once fully im- 
 bibed, will enable a man to behave as becomes a Christian 
 in every situation, of prosperity as well as of adversity, in 
 life or in death. 
 
 Compared to the strong feelings with which such works 
 as these are read by persons who have acquired a true relish 
 for them, all other reading is perfectly insipid ; and a truly 
 pious Christian, who has few books beside the Bible, has 
 little cause to envy the man of letters, in whose ample 
 library the Bible is not to be found. What is there of 
 pathetic address in all the writings of the admired ancients, 
 compared to the Book of Deuteronomy by IMoses ? And 
 what is all their poetry, compared to the Psalms of David, 
 and some parts of Isaiah? And yet, such is the power of 
 association and habit, that, by persons of a different educa- 
 tion and turn of mind, those parts of Scripture which are 
 by some read with emotions of the most exalted and pleas- 
 
74 STUDY OF THE SCRIPTURES. 
 
 urable kind, will be perused with perfect indifference, and 
 even disgust : and if such persons be advanced in life, so 
 that their habits are confirmed, the endeavour to communi- 
 cate to them a relish for such writings, will be altogether in 
 vain. Of such persons we may say with Bacon's brazen 
 statue, Time is past. 
 
 So strongly is my mind impressed with a sense of the im- 
 portance of the habitual reading of the Scriptures, both from 
 considering the nature of the thing, and from the best atten- 
 tion that I have been able to give to particular characters 
 and facts ; that I do not see how those persons who neglect 
 it, and who have no satisfaction in habitually meditating on 
 the infinitely important subjects to which they relate, can 
 be said to have any thing of Christianity besides the name. 
 They cannot feel the influence of its doctrines, its precepts, 
 or its motives, when they give no attention to them ; and, 
 therefore they cannot derive any advantage from Christi- 
 anity, except such as accrues to all the nominally Christian- 
 ized part of the world, in improving the general character, 
 manners and customs of it ; but which, as it has not arisen 
 from any attention that they have given to it, cannot entitle 
 them to the character or rewards of true Christians; such as 
 those who have lived as pilgrims and strangers here below, 
 and as citizens of heaven ; who, though living in the world, 
 have had their affections on things above ; whose treasure, 
 the object of their chief care and pursuit, has been not in 
 the things of this world, but in heaven. They may not be 
 rejected by Christ as workers of iniquity, but they have no 
 title to the appellation of good and faithful servants to a 
 Master whom they have never truly loved or respected, and 
 hardly even thought of; and, therefore, cannot expect to 
 partake in the joy of their Lord. 
 
THE CHRISTIAN CHARACTER. 
 
 He only is justly entitled to the honorable appellation of a 
 Christian who postpones every thing else to it, and who sets 
 no value upon any thing else when set in competition with it. 
 Whether this be our case, will appear by the share that 
 Christianity has in our thoughts. Whatever it be that a man 
 chiefly values, he oftenest thinks of; and if his attention be 
 called off to other things, it will be detained no longer than 
 is necessary. His favorite object, whatever it be, will per- 
 petually recur to his mind, and it will not be in the power of 
 any thing to exclude it long. 
 
 We may judge of this by the attention which men of the 
 world give to riches in general, or to any particular estate 
 they may wish to purchase, or by the attention which a per- 
 son of a scientific turn of mind gives to his favorite objects, 
 whether it be collecting what he thinks curious, or investi- 
 gating what he thinks important ; it will chiefly occupy his 
 thoughts. Now a Christian may attend to these things, and 
 many others, (for the occasions and business of life are vari- 
 ous, and no one object, though the greatest, can possess the 
 mind always,) but with him every thing of this kind, and the 
 world itself, which contains them all, will be of no more than 
 secondary consideration. They occupy and amuse him for 
 a time, but he abandons them without regret when his more 
 favorite business and pleasure call him. So much was the 
 mind of pious David occupied with a sense of God, his pro- 
 vidence, and religion in general, that he says the law of God 
 
76 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN CHARACTER. 
 
 was his meditation day and night ; and he frequently men- 
 tions the pleasure he took in thinking of God in the night 
 watches, whenever he could not sleep. Till this be our case, 
 we cannot be said to have attained a proper habitual devotion. 
 
 Now, such is the unavoidable influence of the world 
 around us, that this state of mind is not to be attained with- 
 out many efforts, or a course of discipline, in which the mind 
 must be at first constrained to look off from the things of 
 time to those of eternity. But repeated acts will at length 
 beget any habit. And when, by this means, we shall come 
 habitually to set our affections on things above, where Christ 
 is at the right hand of God, our most pleasing meditations, 
 the subjects to which our minds will naturally revert when 
 no other shall be particularly pressing for attention, will be 
 those v;hich relate to religion. Something concerning God, 
 or concerning Christ and the gospel, will first present them- 
 selves, and be uppermost in our thoughts ; and whenever 
 they are diverted to other objects (which is unavoidably the 
 case in the usual business and commerce of the world,) they 
 will recur with double strength and pleasure. It Avill be like 
 the sight of a friend after a short absence. 
 
 Indeed, we make quicker advances in the divine life, as it 
 may properly be called, by means of these intervals, in which 
 the mind is occupied by the cares, or even the innocent 
 pleasures, of life, than when we endeavour always to preserve 
 a frame of direct devotion : for then, like the perpetual pre- 
 sence of the nearest friend, it would become dull and insipid. 
 That generous, invigorating ardor, which is experienced by 
 men of true piety, who mix with the world and exert them- 
 selves to be useful in it, is unknown to the professed devotee, 
 who abstracts himself from the world, in order, as he thinks, 
 to give himself wholly to God. This frame of fervent devo- 
 tion advances like the tide in the ocean, with intervals of 
 recess between each flow. In this, I am confident, that I 
 speak to the experience of all who cultivate a habit of devo- 
 tion, and who attend to their own feelings. 
 
THE NOMIiNAL CHRISTIAN. 
 
 The real difference between a merely nominal believer 
 and an unbeliever is very small, and of little consequence, 
 compared to the difference between the merely nominal and 
 the real Christian. What are the generality of Christians, in 
 what are called Christian countries? They are, in fact, 
 persons who mind nothing but their business, or their pleas- 
 ure, without giving any attention to the principles of Chris- 
 tianity at all. It is by no means the subject of their daily 
 thoughts, it supplies no motives to their actions, it contributes 
 nothing to moderate their joys, or to alleviate their sorrows. 
 It neither enables them to bear the troubles of life, nor does 
 it give them any solid hope in death. Whereas the real 
 Christian, as the apostle says, " rejoices as though he rejoiced 
 not and weeps as though he wept not, because the fashion of 
 this world passeth away," and the Lord is at hand. He is 
 ever " looking to that blessed hope, even the glorious appear- 
 ing of the great God, and his Saviour Jesus Christ; " and has 
 peace and joy in believing. 
 
 Christianity is less to be considered as a system of opinions, 
 than a rule of life. But of what signification is a rule, if it 
 be not complied with? All the doctrines of Christianity have 
 for their object Christian morals, which are no other than the 
 well-known duties of life ; and the advantage we derive from 
 this religion is, that the principles of it assist us in maintain- 
 ing that steady regard to the providence and moral govern- 
 ment of God, and to a future state, which facilitates and en- 
 sures the practice of those duties ; inspiring greater piety 
 
78 THE NOMINAL CHRISTIANS. 
 
 towards God, greater benevolence to man, and that heavenly 
 mindedness which raises the heart and affections above those 
 mean and low pursuits which are the source of almost all 
 vices. But Christian principles not reflected upon or attended 
 to, cannot be accompanied with any advantage of this kind ; 
 and better, surely, were it to make no profession of any prin- 
 ciples, than to live without a due regard to them. Better, 
 therefore, were it for any person to be an unbeliever in Chris- 
 tianity, than to be a Christian, and live as if he had not been 
 one. He deprives himself of all apology or excuse for his 
 bad conduct. And it would, I fear, be happy for thousands 
 of professing Christians, if they had been born and lived 
 among heathens. 
 
 We cannot too much impress upon our minds, that religion 
 of any kind is only a mean to a certain end, and that this end 
 is good conduct in life. Consequently, if this end be not 
 attained, we not only lose the advantage of the means, or 
 instrument, of which we were possessed, but are chargeable 
 with the guilt of such neglect, are guilty of an ungrateful 
 contempt of the means that were afforded us for the greatest 
 and best of purposes ; and can we expect that this will go 
 unpunished 1 
 
THE CHRISTIAN IN THE WORLD. 
 
 Christianity does not operate as a charm. The use of it 
 does not resemble that of a badge, or a certificate, to entitle 
 a man to any privilege. It is of no use but so far as it enters 
 into the sentiments, contributes to form the habits, and directs 
 the conduct of men ; and to do this, it must really occupy 
 the mind, and engage its closest attention : so that the max- 
 ims of it may instantly occur the moment that they are called 
 for ; and therefore in whatever it be that the true Christian 
 and the mere man of the world really differ, the difference 
 could not fail to appear. If there was any gratification or 
 pursuit, that did not suit the Christian character, though oth- 
 ers might indulge in it without scruple, and despise all who 
 did not ; the true Christian would be unmoved by such ex- 
 amples, or such ridicule. His habitual fear of God, and his 
 respect for the commands of Christ, would at all times render 
 him superior to any such influence. Whatever his Christian 
 principles called him to do, or to suffer, he would be at all 
 times ready to obey the call. 
 
 For any principles to have their practical influence, they 
 must at least be familiar to the mind, and this they cannot be 
 unless they be voluntarily cherished there, and be dwelt 
 upon with pleasure, when other objects do not necessarily 
 obtrude themselves. Consider, then, how many objects are 
 perpetually occupying the minds of men in the present state 
 of things in the Christian world, and how forcible their hold 
 is upon them, and consequently, how difficult it must be to 
 prevent their all-prevailing influence, to the exclusion of that 
 of Christianity. 
 
80 THE CHRISTIAN IN THE WORLD, 
 
 The age in which we live, more than any that have pre- 
 ceded it, may be said to be the age of trade and commerce. 
 Great wealth is chiefly to be acquired by this means. It is, 
 at least, the most expeditious way of acquiring a fortune, with 
 any regard to the principles of honor and honesty. But to 
 succeed to any great extent in mercantile business of any 
 kind, especially now that such numbers of active and sensi- 
 ble men are engaged in the same, a man must give almost 
 his whole attention to it, so that there will be little room for 
 any thing else to occupy his mind. If he do not literally, in 
 the language of Scripture " rise up early," and " sit up late," 
 it will occupy his thoughts when his head is upon his pillow. 
 His anxiety will often keep him awake. Even at that season 
 of rest he will be considering whether it will be prudent to 
 make this or that purchase, whether this or that man may be 
 safely trusted, whether there will not be too much hazard in 
 this or that undertaking, and a thousand things of this nature. 
 
 If such a person's business allow him any leisure he is 
 fatigued, and wants amusement, and cannot bear any thing 
 that makes him serious. He therefore engages in parties of 
 pleasure, and various entertainments, that, even more than 
 business, exclude all thoughts of religion. And in this course 
 of alternate business and mere amusement or feasting, do 
 many meti of business proceed day after day, and year after 
 year, till Christianity is as foreign to their thought as if they 
 had been heathens. 
 
 If the man of business have any turn for reading, and that 
 not for mere amusement, it is history, or politics, something 
 relating to the topics of the day, but not the Bible that he 
 reads. To this, if he have not read at school, many a man 
 of business is an utter stranger ; and though in this book, 
 God himself speaks to men, concerning their most important 
 interests, their duties here, and their expectations hereafter, 
 they will not listen even to their Maker. On Sundays, 
 which the laws of most Christian countries prevent men from 
 giving to business, many never go to any place of Christian 
 
THE CHRISTIAN IN THE WORLD. 81 
 
 worship; but to relieve themselves from the fatigues of the 
 week, make that their day of regular excursion, in company 
 with persons of similar occupations ; and their conversation, 
 if not irreligious and profane, is at least on topics altogether 
 foreign to religion. 
 
 * * * 
 
 The times in which we live may, in a very remarkable de- 
 gree, be said to be the age of politics, and, from the very 
 extraordinary state of the world, it is in some degree neces- 
 sarily f o. Greater events are now depending than any that 
 the history of any former age can show ; and the theory and 
 practice of the internal government of countries, the circum- 
 stances that tend to make governments stable, and the people 
 prosperous and happy, concerning which there is endless 
 room for difference of opinion, occupy the thoughts of all men 
 who are capable of any reflection. No person can even read 
 the common newspaper, or see any mixed company, without 
 entering into them. He will, of course, form his own opinion 
 of public men and public measures ; and if they be different 
 from those of his neighbours, the subjects will be discussed, 
 and sometimes without that temper which the discussion of 
 all subjects of importance requires. Consequently, the sub- 
 ject of politics, in the present state of things, is with many as 
 much an enemy to religion as trade and commerce, or any 
 other pursuit by which men gain a livelihood. Many persons 
 who read, find nothing that interests them but what relates to 
 the events of the time or the politics of the day. 
 
 This state of things might lead men to look to the hand 
 of God, and a particular providence, which is evidently bring- 
 ing about a state of things far exceeding in magnitude and 
 importance, any thing that the present or any former genera- 
 tion of men has seen. And a person of an habitually pious 
 disposition, who regards the hand of God in every thing, will 
 not take up a newspaper without reflecting that he is going to 
 see what God has wrought ; and considering what it is that 
 he is apparently about to work. To him, whatever wishes he 
 6 
 
82 THE CHRISTIAN IN THE WORLD. 
 
 may, from his imperfect view of things, indulge himself in, 
 (which, however, will always be with moderation and sub- 
 mission,) all news is good news. Every event that has actu- 
 ally taken place, as it could not have been without the per- 
 mission (which is in fact the appointment) of God, he is per- 
 suaded is that which was most fit and proper for the circum- 
 stances, and will lead to the best end ; and though for the 
 present it may be calamitous, the final issue, he cannot 
 doubt, will be happy. 
 
 But mere men of the world look no farther than to men, 
 though they are no more than instruments in the hand of 
 God ; and consequently, as the events are pleasing or dis- 
 pleasing to them, promising or unpromising, their hopes and 
 fears, their affections or dislikes, are excited to the greatest 
 degree ; so as often to banish all tranquillity of mind and 
 cool refiection. And certainly, a mind in this state is not 
 the proper seat of religion and devotion. All the thoughts of 
 such persons are engaged, and their whole minds are occu- 
 pied by objects, which not only exclude Christianity, but 
 such as inspire a temper the very reverse of that of a Chris- 
 tian, which is peculiarly meek, benevolent, even to enemies, 
 and heavenly-minded, — a disposition of mind which we 
 should in vain look for in the eager politician of these times. 
 * * * 
 
 In this state of things can we wonder at the progress of 
 infidelity ? Those who are entire strangers to it, see that it 
 has little influence on the hearts and lives of those with whom 
 they converse ; so that whether it be true or false, they think 
 it to be of little consequence, and not vvorLli the trouble of a 
 serious investigation. And many persons who had nominally 
 Christian parents, giving no more serious attention to Chris- 
 tianity than they see their parents and others give to it ; ob- 
 servinnr none of its exercises, or only in the most superficial 
 manner; seldom attending public worship; never reading 
 the Scriptures, or any book relating to religion, either ex- 
 plaining its evidences, or enforcing its duties, which they 
 find to interfere with their inclinations, get a dislike to the 
 
THE CHRISTIAN IN THE WORLD. 83 
 
 subject ; and in this state of mind a mere cavil or a jest, such 
 as are to be found in tlie writings of Voltaire and other mod- 
 ern unbelievers, has the force of argument. With many per- 
 sons, too, in the upper ranks of life, Christianity being the 
 belief of the common people, on whom they look down with 
 contempt, has more weight in their rejection of it than they 
 will acknowledge, or than they may even be aware of them- 
 selves. 
 
 Now, as I observed before, Christianity, though not abso- 
 lutely and expressly rejected, is of no use, unless it influence 
 the temper of our minds and our conduct in life ; if it lays no 
 restraint on the love of pleasure, the love of gain, or the pur- 
 6uits of ambition, but leaves men as worldly-minded in all 
 respects as those who never heard of it ; as much as if they 
 had never heard of that future state which is brought to light 
 by it, and which in the gospel is held up as a constant and 
 most interesting object of attention and contemplation, to all 
 Christians. We should never forget that religion is only a 
 means to a certain end ; and if we do not make this use of it, 
 it would have been better for us never to have had it, or to 
 have known it ; since, then, we should have had one talent 
 less than we now have to be accountable for. And if it be 
 true that God has revealed his will to men, and sent messen- 
 ger after messenger to promote the virtue and happiness of 
 his rational offspring, he knew that such an extraordinary 
 dispensation was necessary for us, and we cannot be innocent 
 if we neglect to attend to it, and to make the proper use of 
 it ; unless we be so situated as never to have heard of it. 
 * * * 
 
 And certainly it requires no small degree of fortitude and 
 resolution to appear so singular, as a sincere and zealous 
 Christian must sometimes do, among persons of a different 
 character. He must be content to be thought righteous over 
 much ; to be considered as a man of a weak mind, and de- 
 void of spirit, and of those qualities which recommend men to 
 the admiration of the world. For though virtue, as it is com- 
 monly understood, has the sanction of general estimation, and 
 
84 THE CHRISTIAN IN THE WORLD. 
 
 persons accounted vicious are universally censured, the vir- 
 tues that are most admired are not always Christian virtues, 
 and give more indulgence to the passions, (as to those of 
 revenge, and a love of what is called pleasure, of various 
 kinds,) than Christianity allows. And there is not perhaps 
 any vice besides that of a mean selfishness, that is equally 
 condemned by Christianity and the voice of the world. We 
 see that even murder, in the form of a duel, passes without 
 any censure at all. Nay, the spirit with which men fight 
 duels is applauded ; while the meekness, though it be real 
 magnanimity, showing a due command of temper, which 
 overlooks insults, and pi'eserves a kindness for those who offer 
 them, is branded as meanness of spirit. Voluptuousness to a 
 really criminal excess passes with so light a censure, that, 
 when any person is said to be no man's enemy but his own, 
 he is not thought at all the worse of on that account, espe- 
 cially as it is often accompanied with a contempt of money, 
 and a love of society like his own. Profaneness is too gen- 
 erally considered as no vice at all, but only, at the worst, a 
 foolish and unmeaning custom. 
 
 In these circumstances, a profound reverence for the name 
 and attributes of God, the great duty of not living to our- 
 selves, but of the appropriation of the whole of a man's time, 
 fortune, and ability of every kind to the good of others, the 
 love of God with the whole heart, and our neighbour as our- 
 selves, including in the word neighbour every person to whom 
 it is in our power to render any service ; the obligation of 
 sacrificing every thing in life, and even life itself, for the sake 
 of conscience, in the cause of truth and right, with a view to 
 a recompence, not in this world, but another, which Christi- 
 anity requires of us ; are things quite above the comprehension 
 of mankind in general. And whatever men cannot attain 
 themselves, they think to be romantic and absurd, a kind of 
 Quixotism in morals, and a just object of ridicule and contempt. 
 
 Since, then, what is called the world, and the prevailing 
 maxims and customs of the times in which we live, give us 
 no assistance, but must operate as an impediment in our 
 
THE CHRISTIAN IN THE WORLD. 8S 
 
 Christian course, we must surmount this great difficulty by 
 our own voluntary exertions, taking to our aid those helps by 
 which Christian principles are most effectually impressed and 
 kept in view. Something of this kind is absolutely neces- 
 sary, because no end can be gained without employing the 
 proper means ; and if any thing that does not necessarily ob- 
 trude itself, requires to be attended to, it must be purposely 
 brought before the mind by reflection, reading, or conversa- 
 tion ; to do this most effectually, some time must be set apart 
 for the purpose. Also those intervals of time which are not 
 engaged by necessary business, should not be wholly given to 
 mere amusement, (though something of this kind is necessary 
 for such beings as we are,) but be employed to some serious 
 purpose. 
 
 If, then, we call ourselves Christians, we must ever bear 
 in mind, that, though we live in the world, that is, with men, 
 who have no views or prospects beyond it, whose chief pur- 
 suits are riches, honors, or pleasures, — these are but secon- 
 dary things for us. We are to receive them thankfully, and 
 above all, to improve them properly, if, in the course of 
 Divine Providence, they fall to our lot ; but we are, at the 
 same time, to be always looking be3'ond them to a more en- 
 during substance, to a treasure in heaven, to honors that are 
 unfading, which come from God and not from man, and to 
 that pleasure which is at his right hand for evermore, accom- 
 panied with that inward satisfaction of mind, which always 
 attends the possession of a good conscience. And we ought 
 ever to be ready even to renounce all the advantages, hon- 
 ors, and pleasures of the world, when they come in competi- 
 tion with our duty, and our obedience to the commands of 
 Christ. We must not hold even life itself so dear to us, as 
 that we should no< be ready to part with it (and, in whatever 
 manner those who in this world have the power over life 
 shall please) rather than make shipwreck of faith and a good 
 conscience. If in the hour of trial we deny Christ, he will 
 also deny us. 
 
THE CHRISTIAN IN THE WORI-D. 
 
 It is much easier to preserve these just views of the object 
 and end of our profession in an openly hostile, than in a 
 seemingly friendly world, from the constant opposition of 
 principles and objects in the former circumstances. In this 
 case, that is, in a state of persecution, whether we volun- 
 tarily attend to it or not, we cannot help seeing, and reflect- 
 ing continually, that this world is not our home. While we 
 preserve the profession of our faith uncorrupted, and while 
 we retain our integrity in asserting that faith, without any 
 of those unworthy artifices, whereby too many evade the con- 
 sequences of a frank and open declaration of their real prin- 
 ciples, we see there is no state of enjoyment or repose to be 
 looked for here ; and we therefore naturally, and indeed 
 necessarily, look forward to " that rest which yet remainetb 
 for the people of God," where alone " the wicked cease from 
 troubling." In this situation we want no motives to cultivate 
 that temper and disposition of mind, wliich alone can qualify 
 us for the happiness of that heavenly state. 
 
 But when the world is not apparently hostile to us, it is 
 most of all truly so. For then it is, that, not being molested 
 by the world, at the same time that we are subject to the 
 influence of it, being " men of like passions with others," the 
 same things that strike others, strike us. By mixing with 
 the world and sharing the emoluments of it, we naturally 
 become fond of them, and attached to them ; and with cer- 
 tain limits this is unavoidable and not amiss. But is it in 
 human nature, without particular efforts with ourselves, to 
 which the bulk of mankind are much averse, to keep within 
 the bounds of moderation, and not to become too much 
 attached to the world, and those things of it which are foreign 
 to our main object and ultimate views? Living with the 
 world, we naturally live as the world does, and become grad- 
 ually, in all respects, like the world ; and the great objects of 
 our Christian profession, being too long kept out of sight, 
 lose their influence, and we are in danger of abandoning the 
 pursuit of them altogether. 
 
RELIGIOUS USE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 The world in which we live, with all the influences to 
 which we are subject, may be equally our friend or our 
 enemy, according to the use we make of it. It is wonder- 
 fully adapted, by the exercise it gives to our faculties, and to 
 our passions and affections, to establish, strengthen, and set- 
 tle us in the habit and practice of all virtue, and to raise us 
 to a pitch of excellence to which Adam in paradise could 
 never have attained ; but then it is equally possible that, by 
 sloth and indulgence, we may debase our natures to a degree 
 equally wonderful. The knowledge and belief of Christi- 
 anity itself, as well as every other advantage of which we are 
 possessed, is also capable either of promoting the moral per- 
 fection of our natures, and our fitness for immortal happiness, 
 or of making us the proper objects of a greater condemnation 
 than that of Sodom and Gomorrah in the day of judgment. 
 
 It behoves us, then, to consider our situation and all our 
 privileges very attentively, that we may make the best use of 
 them. It is not in our option to be in any oth r circum- 
 stances than those in which our Maker has placed us. It 
 will also avail us nothing to hide any talent in a napkin. As 
 we have received it, we must give an account of the use we 
 make of it. 
 
 We are likewise ignorant of the time when this account 
 will be called for ; and great and serious as the business of 
 life is, the time allowed for the despatch of it is both short 
 and uncertain ; but though short, it is sufficient for the pur- 
 
bo RELIGIOUS USE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 pose of it, if it be rightly improved ; and then the uncertainty 
 of its duration is a circumstance that does not need to give 
 us any concern. " At such an hour as vi^e think not, the 
 Judge may come ; " but then, " blessed are those servants 
 whom the Lord, when he cometh, shall find watching." 
 
CHRISTIANITY ELEVATES THE CHARACTER. 
 
 Christianity is the last dispensation of God to mankind ; 
 and it doth not seem possible, that more ample provision 
 should be made to enlarge the views and comprehension of 
 the human mind, in order to fix its attention upon great and 
 remote objects, and raise it above the influence of present 
 and temporary things. 
 
 A true Christian, like his great Master, is not of this world, 
 but a citizen of heaven. He considers himself as a stranger 
 and pilgrim here below, and lives by faith, and not by sight. 
 Let him be ever so poor and despised here, he looks upon 
 himself as an heir of immortal glory and felicity, of an inheri- 
 tance incorruptible and undefiled, and that fadeth not away, 
 reserved in heaven for him. He may see his body decaying 
 with old age, wasting with a disorder, or mangled with tor- 
 ture, and every way at the mercy of his enraged persecutors ; 
 but he rejoices in the firm belief and expectation of its rising 
 again incorruptible at the last day, and that when Christ, 
 who is the resurrection and the life, shall appear, he also shall 
 appear with him in glory. 
 
 What an elevation of thought and sentiment is here ! 
 How must this faith make us overcome the world, and ren- 
 der us superior to its allurements or its threats ! With this 
 enlarged comprehension of mind, which brings the future 
 consequences of his actions into immediate prospect, it is 
 impossible that a sincere Christian should live addicted to 
 vicious gratifications and pursuits, which he must see to 
 be destructive of these his animating hopes ; and he must 
 
90 CHRISTIANITY ELEVATES THE CHARACTER. 
 
 necessarily grow more in love with that temper and conduct 
 which is, with the greatest propriety, called Christian, and 
 which ensures to him these glorious expectations. As He 
 who has called him to these great privileges is holy, so will he 
 also be holy in all manner of conversatioji. It will be his 
 daily endeavour to cultivate that holiness of heart and life, 
 without which, he is sensible, no man can see the Lord. With 
 this hope set before him, all the afflictions of this present life 
 ♦vill seem light, trifling, and not worthy to be named with, 
 but will be absolutely lost in the consideration of, that eter- 
 nal weight of glory which awaits his patient continuance in 
 well-doing. 
 
 This superiority to present and temporary things, which 
 is attained by truly Christian principles, is of the most 
 rational nature, being of the same kind with that which is 
 acquired by experience, and which necessarily results from 
 the structure of our minds, and the circumstances in which 
 Divine Providence has placed us in this world : for it is 
 only perfecting the association of those ideas which have 
 a real connexion, and uniting in our minds the several parts 
 of one whole, and things which nothing but time separates. 
 If it be compared with that kind of superiority which might 
 be acquired by other principles, those of the Stoics, for in- 
 stance, its advantage vv'ill appear to be exceedingly great. 
 
 The Stoic affects to despise pain, because, according to 
 his arbitrary definition of things, it cannot be called an evil, 
 and does not depend upon himself Having imagined, 
 though without any ground, that every man's happiness 
 must, in any case, arise from himself (in exclusion even of 
 the Divine Being,) he thinks it absurd to complain of any 
 thing which he could not help. Complaint implies a sense 
 of unhappiness ; and this, according to his hypothesis, can 
 never take place without his own consent. If his wife or 
 child be in the most dreadful agonies, he looks, or affects to 
 look, on their condition with the greatest tranquillity and 
 the most unfeeling indifference, satisfied that sickness and 
 
CHRISTIANITY EI-KVATES THE CHARACTER. 91 
 
 pain are not in the catalogue of things within his power, and 
 that the sufferers themselves are not unhappy, since mis- 
 fortancs are unavoidable, and he knew that his wife or child 
 were not naturally exempt from them. When he dies, he 
 expects that his soul, being a particle detached from the 
 Universal Mind, will be absorbed in it again, and tliat his 
 separate consciousness will be lost for ever. 
 
 These arc the gre it outlines of the famous philosophical 
 system of Zeno, which is said to have made so many great 
 men ; but it has certainly no foundation in nature. The 
 principles of it can never have been really felt, and all the 
 boasted effects of it must have arisen from conceit and 
 obstinacy. 
 
 How differently, and how much more naturally, does the 
 Christian think and act in the cases above mentioned ! He 
 does not pretend to deny the evidence of his senses, nor 
 has recourse to whimsical distinctions; and, not liaving 
 maintained that pain is no evil, he finds himself under no 
 necessity of behaving as if he was unaffected by it. He 
 owns that present sufferings are not joyous, but grievous; 
 but he still thinks them nothing in comparison with the 
 glory that shall be revealed, and therefore he endures pUiently 
 for righteousness' sake, in a firm belief of being more tlian 
 recompensed for them at the resurrection of the just. It his 
 friends be in distress, he has no principles that lead him to 
 check, but, on the other hand, such as encourage him freely 
 to indulge his natural sympathy with them ; and these 
 feelings will certainly prompt hiui to exert himself to the 
 utmost in their favor. At the same time, he will not fail 
 to exhort his friends to the duties of Christian patience and 
 fortitude, inculcating the great Christian doctrine of the 
 transitoriness of this world, and its subserviency to another. 
 When he dies, he indulges no extravagant, but really uncom- 
 fortable conceit, about being absorbed in the Divine Muid ; 
 but believes that he shall, in his own person, rise again from 
 the dead, when he shall resume and retain his own separate 
 
93 CHRISTIANITY ELEVATES THE CHARACTER. 
 
 consciousness, live again under the government of that God 
 whose goodness he has experienced and whose friendship 
 he has secured, know all his virtuous friends once more, and 
 rejoice with them through all eternity. 
 
 If we consider the principles of morals in the heathen 
 world, we shall see the manifest advantage there is over it 
 in the plan of revelation. The views of the heathens upon 
 this subject were exc'edingly confined, and did not require 
 that comprehension of mind which is necessary to the prac- 
 tice of those duties that were enjoined both in the Jewish 
 and Christian systems. The great duties of piety, consist- 
 ing in the fear and love of God, and a cheerful reliance on 
 his providence, were, in a manner, unknown in ancient 
 times beyond the boundaries of Judea. And what can more 
 evidently tend to enlarge the comprehension and faculties 
 of the human mind, than the regards which are due to the 
 Maker and Governor of the world ? 
 
 While the attention of the heathens was wholly engrossed 
 by sensible things, those who were favored with Divine 
 revelation, even in its most imperfect state, were engaged in 
 the contemplation of their invisible Author. They con- 
 sidered the enjoyments of life as the effects of his bounty, 
 and all the events of it as taking place according to the wise 
 appointment of his providence. Thus was the power of 
 association enabled to present to their minds the ideas of 
 great and remote objects, by which their sentiments were 
 influenced and their conduct directed. By this means, 
 limited as were the views of the ancient patriarchs, their 
 conceptions were far more enlarged, and consequently their 
 minds more intellectual, than those of the gentile world. 
 
 It is true that all the heathens were prone to supersti- 
 tion, and that a great number of their actions were influenced 
 by regards to invisible agents ; but (not to say, what is very 
 probable, that their religion was, in this respect, a corrup- 
 tion of the patriarchal) all the gods they had any idea of, 
 at least all with whom they maintained any intercourse, were 
 
CHRISTIANITY ELEVATES THE CHARACTER. 93 
 
 local and territorial divinities, liable to the influence of low 
 and vulgar passions, and limited in their powers and opera- 
 tions. It was not possible, therefore, that their theology 
 should suggest such sublime ideas, as must have been con- 
 ceived by the Jews, from the perusal of the books of Moses ; 
 in which we find the idea of one God, the Creator and Lord 
 of heaven and earth, who established and who controls 
 the laws of nature, and who superintends the affairs of the 
 whole world, giving the kingdoms of it to whomsoever he 
 pleases ; a Being of unspotted purity, and a fri(!nd and pro- 
 tector of all good men. So far were the notions which the 
 gentiles entertained of their gods below the conceptions of 
 the Jews, concerning their Jehovah, the Lord of heaven and 
 earth, who brought them out of the land of Egypt, out of the 
 house of bondage, destroying their enemies in the Red Sea, 
 and feeding them with bread from heaven for the space of 
 forty years ; that they could hardly have had any ideas to 
 some of the finest expressions which occur in the sacred 
 books of the Jews, as, " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God 
 with ail thy heart ; " and many others, which express senti- 
 ments of the most pure and exalted devotion. 
 
 If any people have exalted and sublime ideas, they are 
 sure to be found in their poetry ; but how poor and low is 
 the sacred poetry of tlie heathens in comparison with the 
 Psalms of David ! The poems of Homer, of Hesiod, or of 
 Callimachus in honor of the Grecian gods, can hardly be 
 read without laughter ; but the book of Psalms (the greatest 
 part of which were written long before the works of any of 
 those Grecian poets, and by persons who had travelled and 
 seen far less than they had done) cannot be read without 
 the greatest seriousness, and are still capable of exciting 
 sentiments of the warmest and most exalted, and yet the 
 most perfectly rational devotion. They give us the most 
 sublime ideas of the infinite power, wisdom, and goodness 
 of God. This difference between the poetry of the Jews 
 and the Greeks, in favor of the former, is so great, that I 
 
94 CHRISTIANITY ELEVATES THE CHARACTER. 
 
 think it cannot be accounted for without the supposition of 
 Divine communications. In point of genius, the Greeks seem 
 to have been evidently superior, and they were certainly pos- 
 sessed of the art of composition in much greater perfection. 
 
 Whence, then, could arise so manifest an inferiority in 
 thi respect ? It must have been because the Jevvisli theo- 
 logy gave that nation ideas of a Being infinitely superior to 
 themselves, the contemplation of which, with that of his 
 works and of his providence, would tend to improve and 
 exalt their faculties ; whereas, the heathen theology gave 
 them no ideas of beings much superior to the race of man. 
 In general, the gods of the Greeks and Romans were sup- 
 posed to have been mere men, beings of the same rank and 
 condition with themselves ; and, though their powers were 
 supposed to be enlarged upon their deification, their passijns 
 and morals were not at all improved, but continued just the 
 same as before, so that their greater powers were employed 
 about the gratification of the lowest appetites. This theo- 
 lotry, therefore, could not infuse that noble enthusiasm which 
 was inspired by the Jewish religion, but must rather have 
 tended to debase their faculties. 
 
 That extensive and perfect benevolence, which is so strong'y 
 inculcated in the New Testament, implies more enlarged 
 sentiments, and greater perfection of the intellectual facul- 
 ties, than that more limited benevolence, which is treated of 
 by the heathen moralists, which was hardly ever thought 
 to extend farther than to a love of one's own countrymen, 
 and which admitted slaves to none of the privileges of men, 
 but considered them as no other than the property of their 
 masters. But, in the eye of a Christian, Jew and Gentile, 
 Barbarian, Scythian, bond and free, are all equal. The 
 boasted attachments of private friendship are not more en- 
 dearino- than that mutual love which Christ recommends to 
 his disciples. But, whereas private friendship was, with 
 the Greeks and Romans, the perfection and almost the end 
 of all virtue, the brotherly love of Christians is only considered 
 
CHRISTIANITY ELEVATES THE CHARACTER. 95 
 
 as a branch of a more extensive benevolence, and leads to 
 the love of all the human race. 
 
 It is evident that the duties of contentment, trust in 
 Divine Providence, meekness, patience, forbearance and 
 forgiveness of injuries, are more insisted on by Christ and 
 his apostles, than by any of the heathen philosophers ; 
 and these virtues certainly require a greater comprehension 
 of mind than any other social duties. Children are quick 
 ill their resentments, their anger is presently excited, and 
 they are unable to conceal what little malice or revenue 
 they are capable of; but in proportion as men advance in 
 age, in experience, and consequently in intellect, they are 
 able to overlook affronts, and to suspend, or wholly to 
 stifle their resentments ; because they are able to take in 
 more distant consequences of passions and actions ; and the 
 sentiments which are suggested by these extensive views, 
 moderate and overpower those which are prompted by their 
 present sensations. 
 
 Christianity, therefore, by extending these duties, sup- 
 poses, and thereby favors and promotes a still greater advance 
 in intellectual perfection. To act like a Christian, a man 
 must be possessed of true greatness of mind, a self-command, 
 fortitude, or magnanimity, which is infinitely more superior 
 to the disguised revenge of which some are capable, and 
 which they can brood over for years, than this is superior to 
 the quick resentments of children. It requires a more just 
 knowledge of things, more experience, and more foresight. 
 
 Thus does the Christian scheme appear to be perfectly 
 consonant to nature. It supposes a series of dispensations, 
 in which the human mind is operated upon, and its improve- 
 ment promoted in a manner analogous to that in which it ia 
 actually operated upon, and its improvement promoted every 
 day. As the one, therefore, is conducted according to the 
 ordinary providence of the Divine Being, the other is what 
 might be expected from his extraordinary dispensations. 
 Both these schemes have the same great object in view, and 
 in both of them the same end is gained by the same methods. 
 
THE CHRISTIAN CHARACTER, HOW FORMED. 
 
 Such is the importance of religion (being, in fact, the 
 great business of human life), and such the fascination of the 
 cares of this world, that it behoves us to be continually upon 
 our guard, lest the scenes through which we must necessarily 
 pass, draw off our attention from things of infinitely more mo- 
 ment, though more distant ; and thus the great end and pur- 
 pose of our being be sacrificed to what is merely accidental or 
 instrumental to it. 
 
 It is our consolation, however, that almost all our diffi- 
 culties in the conduct of life, as it respects futurity, have 
 no other source than want of attention of mind to the sub- 
 ject. For, so absolutely inconsiderable are the things of this 
 life, in comparison with that which is to succeed it, that even 
 an imperfect apprehension of the nature of our situation (if, 
 in consequence of being sufiiciently impressed and attended 
 to, it be allowed to have its proper influence on our minds) 
 would be sufficient to keep us in the path of our duty. But 
 without attention and consideration, no motives, however 
 just and weighty, can have any effect. 
 
 In reality, men miscarry, and miss the great end of their 
 being, only in consetiuence of acting precipitately , and with- 
 out attending to the necessary consequences of their actions. 
 In other words, it is when they act irrationalhj , like brute 
 beasts, governed by mere appetite and passion. And when 
 they act in this manner, is it to be wondered at, that they do 
 not attain the proper happiness of rational and intelligent 
 beings ? 
 
THE CHRISTIAN CHARACTER, HOW FORMED. 97 
 
 It is with great propriety, therefore, that faith is repre- 
 Bented in the Scriptures as the great principle of the Chris- 
 tian life; that it was by faith, or in consequence of a firm 
 belief in futurity, depending upon the promise of God, that 
 all the worthies of the Old Testament were enabled to dis- 
 tinguish themselves as they did ; and that it is still by faith 
 that we Christians are to overcome the world. 
 
 Now this efficacious faith is not a single act, or effort of 
 the mind, or a simple conviction that a future event will take 
 place, (for then every man who, if he were interrogated, 
 would answer that he was a Christian, would be a good man,) 
 but it is such a full persuasion of mind, and such a lively ap- 
 prehension of a distant event, as shall give it its just influ- 
 ence, the same that it would have near at hand ; and this 
 can only be acquired by frequent attention to it, and medita- 
 tion upon it. 
 
 Could this great end be attained, were truly Christian 
 principles and prospects sufficiently impressed on our minds, 
 it would be impossible for us to be guilty of any base or 
 criminal action ; and the great motives to the love of God 
 and of our fellow-creatures, not being counteracted by any 
 foreign influence, but having their natural and uncontroled 
 effect upon the mind, we should " love the Lord our God with 
 all our hearts, and our neighbour as ourselves." And when 
 those governing principles had taken deep root in our minds, 
 they would lead to the practice of the whole of our duty ; 
 and, our hearts and affections being engaged, every thing 
 right and good would be easy and pleasant to us. 
 
 If these maxims be true, a great deal must be done by a 
 man before he can be a Christian in the proper sense of the 
 word, that is, " not in name and profession only, but in deed 
 and in truth ; " because a habit and temper is to be formed* 
 which can only be produced by the long continuance of pro- 
 per actions. A truly Christian character is not to be formed 
 but by a course of discipline and exercise, calculated to keep 
 the mind continually impressed with a lively sense of the 
 7 
 
f^' 
 
 -i I) ;, 
 
 98 THE CHRISTIAN CHARACTER, HOW FORMED. 
 
 great truths of Christianity ; so as to overpower the influence 
 of the objects which surround us, and which are continually 
 soliciting our attention. 
 
 If there be any one error in religion more dangerous in its 
 tendency than others, it is the opinion which, in some form 
 or other (and it is capable of endless modifications) has ex- 
 isted almost from the commencement of Christianity, viz. 
 that religion properly so called, or that which renders a man 
 acceptable in the sight of God, and fits him for heaven, is not 
 a habit or disposition of mind, such as I have now mentioned, 
 which evidently requires time and care to form ; but some 
 H !■- sincrle act, or effbrt, whether proceeding from a man's self, or 
 from God. 
 
 If this be the case, the whole may commence and termi- 
 nate in the shortest space of time, and it may as well take 
 place at the last hour of life, as at any other. Consequently, 
 in the prospect of this, men may continue to live in sin, 
 secretly flattering themselves with the hope of a late but 
 effectual repentance. But if repentance consist of a change 
 of disposition and conduct, it is not even possible that a late, 
 or what we call a death-bed, repentance, can be an effectual 
 one. For true repentance can only take place in conse- 
 quence of just views of things, sufficiently impressed upon 
 the mind by careful reflection ; and since it is not a momen- 
 tary operation, but a fixed character that is wanted, it is, in 
 reality, but very little that can be done at any one particular 
 time. 
 
 A man, for instance, may at any time resolve to change 
 his conduct ; but that does not amount to an actual change. 
 He may perform any single action ; but a single action, 
 thontrh it may lead to, does not constitute a habit; and even 
 a habit, or course of actions, must be continued a considera- 
 ble time before it can be quite easy and familiar to him, so 
 that his heart and affections shall be engaged in it; and then 
 only is the character properly formed. Again, this charac- 
 ter, arising from a fixed attachment of mind to our duty, ad- 
 
THE CHRISTIAN CHARACTER, HOW FORMED. 99 
 
 mits of degrees ; for it may bo a very weak or a very strong 
 attachment ; and our future reward will be in proportion to 
 to the strength and confirmed state of all our good habits and 
 dispositions : for, as great as is the diversity of human char- 
 acters in this life, it is probable that the justice and wisdom 
 of God will provide as great a diversity in their future retri- 
 bution. 
 
 Besides, the opinion that the great business of religion is 
 the work of a moment, unavoidably subjects men to the 
 grossest and most fatal delusions. Indeed, how can it be 
 otherwise, when the thing to be attained passes wholly within 
 a man's own breast, and is generally spoken of as a thing 
 that is incapable of verbal description ; the consequence of 
 which must be, that persons of a warm imagination will pre- 
 sume, on any insignificant emotion, that they have experi- 
 enced this happy change, and valuing themselves upon it, 
 will be apt to condemn and despise the rest of the world ; 
 while persons of a timid disposition will be tormented with 
 doubts and despair. Not being content to judge of their 
 hearts by their lives, they will be perpetually seeking for 
 something that no man in his sober senses ever imagined he 
 had found. 
 
 All the representations which are given by our Saviour of 
 the effect of the gospel, either in the hearts of individuals, or 
 in the world at large, (which correspond to one another,) 
 give us the idea of something that has a gradual progress, 
 and no where of a sudden instantaneous effect. Thus we 
 find it compared to seed sown in the ground, to a small 
 quantity of leaven, to laboring in a vineyard, «Si-c. all of 
 which require a considerable time before a sensible effect is 
 produced. 
 
 The doctrines of the gospel, though established by mira- 
 cles, did not produce their effect on the minds of men by a 
 miraculous, but by a natural power. Indeed, external mira- 
 cles would have been superfluous upon this scheme ; since 
 God, by internal miracles only, might have converted tha 
 
100 THE CHRISTIAN CHARACTER, HOW FORMED. 
 
 whole world. The gospel had that effect, and that only, 
 which the ground on which it was sown admitted. The new 
 views which it opened to mankind induced most of those who 
 were convinced that it was of God, to come to a resolution to 
 change their former conduct ; but neither could their mere 
 belief of Christianity, nor their consequent resolution, actu- 
 ally profit them, till it had time to bring forth the proper 
 fruits of it, viz. good works and a change of character. And 
 when men did thus become Christians, still the apostles never 
 ceased urging them, not only to act up to their profession, but 
 to go on to perfection, comparing the Christian course to a 
 race, or other exercise, which required the greatest and most 
 unremitted exertion of all their powers. 
 
 If I be asked How this end is to be attained, or, in the 
 language of the apostle, how we must gird up the loins of our 
 minds, by what means is this lively and efficacious faith in 
 the great practical principles of religion to be acquired ? I 
 answer, with Paul, that faith comes by hearing ; supposing 
 the consequence of hearing to be believing, and that believ- 
 ing operates as it ought to do : for it naturally arises from 
 giving sufficient attention of mind to the evidence on which 
 our faith rests, and from frequent meditation on the objects of 
 our faith ; and it cannot be produced by any other means. 
 
THE CHRISTIAN CHARACTER NOT APPRECIATED BY 
 THE WORLD. 
 
 Notwithstanding this state of outward rest, and though 
 no person is directly persecuted for being a Christian, yet 
 the strict profession of Christianity is, in reality, at all times 
 in a state of persecution. The world in general is but nomi- 
 nally Christian, and perhaps will never be wholly otherwise : 
 for the great bulk of mankind, even in countries termed 
 Christian, have other objects than Christianity, and, indeed, 
 think very little about it. In consequence of this, a true 
 Christian, one who values his religion as he ought to do, who 
 feels as he ought to feel, and who acts as he ought to act, will 
 be regarded with dislike. His conduct will be a reproach to 
 that of others, and he will never be caressed like a man 
 whose virtue is of a more pliable kind, and who can accom- 
 modate himself to the prevailing taste. 
 
 To a certain degree, the principles of honor, integrity, and 
 benevolence, will always be admired, and make a man 
 esteemed. But that kind of honor, and that kind of gener- 
 osity which the world most admires, is very consistent with 
 many things with which a true Chrisian cannot comply. The 
 common hero of our stage is by no means a Christian char- 
 acter. And let a Christian behave in a manner the farthest 
 from stiffness and moroseness, his sentiments are so elevated, 
 compared with those of mere men of business or pleasure, 
 that they cannot long accord together ; and the latter being 
 the more numerous will be able to keep themselves in coun- 
 tenance, and will regard others with aversion and disgust. 
 Now the man who is so much a Christian as to be unmoved 
 
102 THE CHRISTIAN CHARACTER NOT APPRECIATED. 
 
 by this contempt of the world, and who can bear to be ridi- 
 culed for his principles at present, would, I doubt not, be 
 
 able to die for them. 
 
 * * * 
 
 The influence of the world, pleasure, ambition, and emol- 
 ument, being the same upon the human mind that it ever 
 was, it must produce the same characters. Consequently, 
 we must not be surprised, if there should be the very temper 
 of the Scribes and Pharisees of our Saviour's time, in the 
 rulers of Christian nations, and at the head of Christian estab- 
 lishments. On the other hand, as Christianity was by our 
 Saviour compared to a net, which took in fishes of all kinds, 
 good and bad, we may expect that (as in that early age) the 
 profession of Christianity, and even in time of persecution, 
 will not always purify the mind ; but that there will be some 
 unworthy characters in all Christian churches. At the same 
 time, therefore, that we justly guard against others, let us look 
 well to ourselves. 
 
THE CHRISTIAN READY TO SUFFER FOR HIS FAITH. 
 
 This, you may say, was requisite in the circumstances in 
 which the apostle wrote, Christianity being then in a state of 
 persecution, which no person retaining the profession of it 
 could avoid ; but now that the church is at rest from persecu- 
 tion, those sufferings are no longer necessary, and we may 
 be, at this day, as good Christians without any hardships, as 
 in those days they who were exposed to them could be. 
 
 I am far from saying that this is not possible ; but many 
 persons, I fear, deceive themselves by this view of things, 
 and imagine that much less is now necessary to make a 
 Christian than really is so. Whereas, the terms on which 
 we become Christians (and, of course, become entitled to the 
 rewards of Christianity in a future world) are the very same 
 that they ever were, and, upon the whole, perhaps not less 
 difficult. As it greatly behoves us to form just ideas on this 
 subject, I shall endeavour to give you some assistance with 
 respect to it ; and for this purpose, I beg you will attend to 
 the following observations. 
 
 In the first place, though the actual suffering of the loss of 
 goods, of liberty, of life, or of reputation (which is often more 
 valuable than life) be not always required of Christians, the 
 temper of mind which would enable them to bear the loss of 
 all these, if the sacrifice should be demanded, is always re- 
 quired of us. AH Christians are required now, as much as 
 in the times of the apostles, to cultivate a superiority of mind 
 to this world, and all the enjoyments and pursuits of it. They 
 are required to have their affections so set on heaven, and 
 
104 THE CHRISTIAN READY TO SUFFER FOR HIS FAITH. 
 
 heavenly things ; they are so to liave their treasure and their 
 <jitizenship in heaven, as that no earthly consideration shall 
 be able to make them swerve from their duty. If any thing 
 as dear to them as a right hand, or a right eye, would lead 
 them to wrong conduct, they must cut it off, and cast it from 
 them. They must not even hold their lives dear unto them, 
 if it would prevent their finishing their course, or discharging 
 the duty of a Christian, and that with joy, in every situation in 
 which it shall please Divine Providence to place them. Our 
 particular duties change with our circumstances, but the 
 principle which leads to all duty, must ever be the same. 
 This never changes ; and where it really exists, it will not 
 fail to make our duty, in all cases, eligible and joyful. A 
 good man and a good Christian fears nothing but God, and 
 hates nothing but sin. 
 
 Have we, then, my Christian brethren, this principle of 
 duty within us 1 Have we that steady attachment to Chris- 
 tianity, and that firm faith in a future life, and the rewards 
 which Christ has promised to his disciples there, that would 
 enable us to bear persecution, and even death, rather than 
 swerve from it? If we have, we are Christians, and shall 
 andoubtedly receive the proper rewards of Christianity,, 
 whether we be actually called to sufier persecution and death, 
 or not ; as that soldier who keeps his rank, and holds himself 
 ready to engage when called upon, is justly entitled to share 
 the rewards of victory with those of his fellow-soldiers who 
 liappencd to be called to the hottest action ; because he 
 would have engaged, and with as much alacrity, if it had 
 been his place. 
 
 But, my brethren, (and it behoves us seriously to question 
 ourselves on the subject,) if we be not ready and determined, 
 vi'hen called upon, to bear persecution, and even unto death 
 in the cause of Christ, we arc not true Christians. If we be 
 not prepared to suffer with Christ here, neither shall we reign 
 and be glorified with him hereafter. If, in such a case, we 
 would, in fact, deny him, he also will deny us. And though 
 
THE CHRISTIAN READY TO SUFFER FOR HIS FAITH. 105 
 
 it does not now appear to the world, or may not even be 
 known to ourselves, what our behaviour in time of persecution 
 for conscience' sake would be, it is always known to God. 
 He sees and judges by the heart, and whatever our final des- 
 tination may be, we shall then be satisfied of the equity of hia 
 
 decision. 
 
 *■ * * 
 
 The principles and prospects of Christianity are, in them- 
 selves, so great, and so far overbalance all the things of the 
 present life, that they only require to be sufficiently attended 
 to, to make any person do or bear any thing for their sake. 
 
 What hardships will not men undergo, and what risk, 
 even of life, will they not run, in order to obtain a great 
 estate, and much more a crown, in this world? In such a 
 case as this, the mere pain of dying would not be regarded 
 by them, if they were sure that they should not actually die, 
 but that, after this suffering, they should certainly gain their 
 purpose. This we see in history, and in common life, con- 
 tinually. There can be no doubt, therefore, but that if the 
 same persons had the same firm faith in the future glorious 
 rewards of Christianity that they have with respect to the 
 things of this life, it would enable them to do and to suffer as 
 much in order to obtain them. 
 
 It is only a deficiency of faith that makes persons shrink 
 from persecution and death in the cause of Christianity. 
 Because, in reality, all the pains of this transitory life are 
 nothing in comparison of that eternal weight of glory which 
 awaits those who have faith and patience unto death, with 
 respect to another. 
 
FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. 
 
 As to the motives for the forgiveness of injuries, what 
 should operate more powerfully upon Christians than the ex- 
 ample of Christ, from whom we are denominated ? And very 
 ill shall we be entitled to the name of Christians, if we do not 
 adopt the sentiments, follow the example, and obey the pre- 
 cepts of Christ. What are the injuries that we have received, 
 great as they have been, compared to his, to say nothing of 
 the difference of our characters and deserts, his superiority 
 with respect to which ought not only to have exempted him 
 from injuries, but ensured to him the gratitude and best offi- 
 ces of his countrymen and the world. Instead of this, as 
 soon as ever he made himself conspicuous, though it was by 
 the most exemplary virtue and universal beneficence, he be- 
 gan to be envied, hated, and ill-treated, by the priests and 
 leading men of his nation ; (the church, as we may say, and 
 the state;) and this malignity against him increased in pro- 
 portion as I e distinguished himself, till they carried into exe- 
 cution their diabolical purpose of putting him to a cruel and 
 ignominious death. 
 
 Notwithstanding this, in the very moment of his greatest 
 agony, he could pray, in the words of my text, " Father, for- 
 give them, for they know not what they do." What dignity, 
 my brethren, what greatness of mind, what self-command, 
 what benevolence, and what piety, were here ! All that we can 
 feel or do, will fall far short of this. But, nevertheless, let us 
 strive to come as near to it as we can ; for this is to approach 
 the Divine character and conduct, which he imitated, and 
 taught his followers to imitate, when he exhorted them to be 
 " merciful, as our Father who is in heaven is merciful, and 
 perfect, as he is perfect." 
 
CHARITY THE DEBT OF THE RICH TO THE POOR. 
 
 The rich, therefore, reflecting on the wise intentions of 
 Providence, should not suppose that they have an absolute 
 exclusive right to their superfluity ; the wise should not be 
 wise for themselves alone, nor should the powerful protect 
 themselves only from insults and injuries. Our common 
 Parent had far other and more extensive views in appointing 
 this inequality. It was no less than to bind all the parts of 
 the great whole more strictly together, to make the one more 
 dependent upon the other ; and by an exchange of good offi- 
 ces, easy to some, and necessary to others, give scope to the 
 increase of generosity on one side, of gratitude on the other, 
 and of benevolence on both ; thus to advance them in real 
 dignity and excellence of character, and thereby bring them 
 to a near resemblance to Himself, the pattern of all perfection 
 and excellence, to Him who is supremely, and, strictly speak- 
 ing, alone good, as being the source of all goodness, who " is 
 good to all, and whose tender mercies are over all his works." 
 
 Had all men been equally well provided for, they would 
 have been independent of one another, and of course unsocial 
 and unfriendly, and therefore might have been disposed to 
 avoid, rather than to court, that society of which they stood 
 in no need ; and a spirit of envy and hatred might have been 
 the result. But the wants of some teach them humility, 
 patience, and gratitude, excellent moral qualities ; and the 
 sight of distress softens the heart, and excites to acts of kind- 
 ness in others, which strengthens the principle of benevo- 
 lence, and thus meliorates the disposition, consequently the 
 
108 CHARITY THE DEBT OF THE RICH TO THE POOR. 
 
 characters of both are improved, and it is not easy to say 
 which is the more so, by this circumstance of inequality in 
 the distribution of the gifts of Providence. 
 
 Let not the rich man make a boast of his charity, as if he 
 gave what he was under no obligation to give , for, strictly 
 speaking, it is a debt which he owes to the needy. Benevo- 
 lence being the great law of our natures, and the happiness 
 of all being the great object of the Divine government, what- 
 ever it be that promotes this end, is the proper duty of all, 
 according to their respective abilities to contribute to it ; and 
 any person is guilty of a breach of trust, who refrains from 
 doing it. All the good that any man can do, he ought to do. 
 The Divine Being, our common Parent, expects it of him, as 
 a member of his large family ; and if he "judge the world in 
 righteousness", as he assuredly will, he will punish the person 
 who does less than it was in his power to do, as having neg- 
 lected a duty that was incumbent on him. 
 
 In whatever manner any person becomes possessed of 
 wealth, it is the gift of God. If it have accrued to him from 
 superior ingenuity or superior industry, that very superior 
 ingenuity and spirit of activity, are alike the gift of God, 
 who makes one man to differ in these respects, as well as 
 others, from another man ; so that, as the apostle says, God 
 may say to any man, " What hast thou that thou didst not 
 receive?" And *' if thou didst receive it, why dost thou 
 glory, as if thou hadst not received it 1 " Consequently, not 
 to make that disposition of our wealth which the Giver of it 
 intended that we should, is to be guilty of ingratitude to God, 
 and real injustice to man. It is to act the part of an unfaith- 
 ful steward. For in this light, and no other, ought we to 
 consider ourselves with respect to every thing that we have to 
 spare, after the supply of our own wants. 
 
 Neither let the rich boast of their independence with re- 
 spect to the poor. In fact they are more dependent upon the 
 poor, than the poor are upon them ; and were all persona 
 reduced to a level, every advantage of which they now boast 
 
CHARITY THE DEBT OF THE RICH TO THE POOR. 109 
 
 would vanish. They must then labor for themselves, and do 
 for themselves those menial offices which are now done for 
 them by others. But, happily for us all, there is such a 
 foundation laid in the course of nature and the order of Provi- 
 dence, for that inequality in the conditions of men, which has 
 60 excellent an effect in binding us all together, in making 
 our connexion both necessary and mutually advantageous, 
 that no institutions of man can destroy it ; though, as we are 
 in duty bound, we may lessen the evils that necessarily arise 
 from it. 
 
THE OBJECTS OF EDUCATION. 
 
 The general object of education is evidently to qualify 
 men to appear to advantage in future life; which can only be 
 done by communicating to them such knowledge, and lead- 
 ing them to form such habits, as will lead them to be most 
 useful hereafter : and in this the whole of their future being, 
 to which their education can be supposed to bear any rela- 
 tion, is to be considered. 
 
 If I knew that my child would die when he had attained 
 to the age of five or six years, and that his existence would 
 then terminate ; I should certainly make no provision respect- 
 ing him for any thing beyond that term, but endeavour to 
 make him as happy as I could during the short period in 
 which he could enjoy any thing. I would, for the same rea- 
 son, provide for him only such gratifications as his infant 
 nature was capable of 
 
 Again, if I knew that he would attain to the age of man- 
 hood, but that then his existence would not be prolonged any 
 farther; I should endeavour, as well as I could, to qualify him 
 for acting such a part as would be useful to himself and oth- 
 ers in that period, but should never think of extending my 
 plan so far as to enable him to pass a comfortable old age, a 
 term of life to which I knew he never would arrive. 
 
 For the same plain reason, a man who believes that the 
 whole period of his own existence, and that of his oflspring, 
 is confined to the present life, would act very absurdly if he 
 should train up his children with a view to a future life, ex- 
 cept so far as he should think that such a farther, though a 
 
THE OBJECTS OF EDUCATION. Ill 
 
 chimerical, object, might be subservient to his proper conduct 
 in the present life. 
 
 These are obvious considerations, which ought to have 
 their weight with all rational beings ; and according to them, 
 the mere man of the world must allow, that a Christian, — who, 
 as such, believes that himself and his offspring are destined 
 to exist in a future life, and that the principles and habits that 
 we form here have a decisive influence on our happiness 
 hereafter, — would act irrationally, if he did not use his utmost 
 endeavours to give his children such principles and habits, as 
 would secure to them an interest in a future world. Such a 
 regard to the principles of truth, of right, and of virtue, as 
 would lead a man to be a martyr to them, would be absurd in 
 an unbeliever ; because he would sacrifice his all for no real 
 advantage ; but it would be most wise, and therefore right, in 
 a Christian, who believes that such a glorious sacrifice, and 
 the disposition of mind that leads to it, would secure him an 
 everlasting recompence in a future state. Moreover, since a 
 Christian regards this life, principally, as it is sub.servient to 
 another, which is of infinitely more value, he must consider 
 tlie duties of religion as the first thing to be attended to by 
 him, and must be taught to disregard all authority that would 
 enjoin upon him a conduct which would be detrimental to his 
 greatest and ultimate interest ; because he will gain more by 
 his steadiness in his regard to a higher authority, than he can 
 lose by opposing an inferior power. 
 
 The first thing, therefore, that a Christian will naturally 
 inculcate upon his child, as soon as he is capable of receivino- 
 such impressions, is the knowledge of his Maker, and a 
 steady principle of obedience to him ; the idea of his living 
 under the constant inspection and government of an invisible 
 Being, who will raise him from the dead to an immortal life, 
 and who will reward and punish him hereafter according to 
 his character and actions here. 
 
 On these plain principles I hesitate not to assert, as a 
 Christian, that religion is the first rational object of education. 
 
112 THE OBJECTS OF EDUCATION. 
 
 Whatever be the fate of my children in this transitory world, 
 about which I hope I am as solicitous as I ought to be, I 
 would, if possible, secure a happy meeting with them in a 
 future and everlasting life. I can well enough bear their 
 reproaches for not enabling them to attain to worldly honors 
 and distinctions ; but to have been in any measure acces- 
 sary, by my neglect, to their final perdition, would be the oc- 
 casion of such reproach and blame, as would be absolutely 
 insupportable. 
 
OF INSTRUCTION IN THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS 
 AND RELIGION. 
 
 It has been a maxim hastily adopted, and with great plau- 
 sibility supported, by some men of genius, that nothing should 
 be inculcated upon children which they cannot perfectly un- 
 derstand and see the reason of But, in fact, it has not been 
 applied to any subject but that of religion, the doctrines of 
 which are said to be too abstruse for their comprehension. 
 Had the application of the maxim been made universal, the 
 absurdity and impracticability of it could not but have been 
 immediately perceived. In reality, we act upon the very 
 contrary maxim in every thing that respects children, espe- 
 cially very young children ; and there is not, in the nature of 
 things, a possibility of doing otherwise. Thus the ear of a 
 child is accustomed to the sounds of all kinds of words long 
 before he can possibly have any idea of their meaning. 
 
 It is upon this plan that the great business of education at 
 large is conducted by Divine Providence. Appearances are 
 continually presented to our view long before we are able to 
 decypher them or to collect and apply the instruction which 
 they are adapted to give us ; and the gradual decyphering of 
 appearances, which we have long contemplated without un- 
 derstanding, contributes considerably to the pleasure of the 
 discovery, and enhances the value and use of it. It is the 
 same with children when they decypher our language ; and 
 they are enabled to do it by the very same process, namely, 
 comparing the different circumstances in which we use the 
 sajne expression^ 
 
 8 
 
114 OF INSTRUCTION IN THE PRINCIPLES 
 
 Besides, the mind may be very usefully impressed, and a 
 foundation may be laid for future instruction, though no de- 
 terminate ideas be communicated ; and if, by accustoming 
 children to the outward forms of religion only, as by making 
 them keep silence,^ and kneel when others pray, &c. a gen- 
 eral notion be gradually impressed upon their minds, that 
 some reverence is due to a power which they do not see, and 
 that there exists an authority to which all mankind, the rich 
 and great, as well as the poor and mean, must equally bow, 
 a good end will be gained. Besides, by this means, a me- 
 chanical habit will be formed, which will not be laid aside, 
 till, by degrees, they come to know the reason of it, and to 
 enter into it with understanding and pleasure ; whereas they 
 would not have had the same advantage for a rational knowl- 
 edge and practice without that previous and mechanicat 
 habit. Thus a child who is made to bow mechanically upon 
 being introduced into a room, or to persons of certain ranks 
 and characters, before he can be sensible of the full meaning 
 of it, afterwards enters more easily into those sentiments of 
 decency and respect for stations and characters which distin- 
 guish the civilized from the uncivilized part of mankind. 
 Thus, also, the custom of making bonfires on the fifth of 
 November, in which children are as active as men, is of use 
 to inspire them, at an earlier period than they would other- 
 wise be capable of it, with an abhorrence of popery and arbi- 
 trary power, and makes them enter into those sentiments with 
 much more warmth than they would otherwise have done. 
 
 Was the thing itself but of trifling consequence in the con- 
 duct of life, children might, without much inconvenience, be 
 suffered to be unacquainted with any principles of religion, 
 till they were capable of a rational inquiry into them, and a 
 regular investigation of them ; bat, considering that religion 
 is of unspeakable consequence in the conduct of life, inspir- 
 ing just sentiments concerning God and our fellow-creatures, 
 just notions of the business and end of life, and enforcing the 
 obligations of conscience, in order to our attaining the proper 
 
OF MORALS AND RELIGION. 115 
 
 dignity and true happiness of our rational nature here, and 
 infinitely superior felicity hereafter ; we ought not, surely, to 
 neglect any part of a process which is naturally adapted to 
 gain so great an end. Indeed, I believe that no person, who 
 had himself a just sense of the importance of religion, ever 
 imagined that there was any sort of impropriety in the reli- 
 gious instruction of his children. 
 
 It may be said that, in this method, we take an unfair ad- 
 vantage of the imbecility of the rational faculties, and incul- 
 cate truth by such a kind of mechanical prejudice as would 
 enforce the belief of any thing ; and this is readily acknowl- 
 edged, without any confession of impropriety in the thing. 
 For the whole of our treatment of children is necessarily of a 
 piece with this, prejudicing them in favor of our own opinions 
 and practices ; so that there is hardly any thing that a child 
 does not believe before he is acquainted with the proper 
 grounds on which his belief ought to rest. It is sufficient for 
 him that he has the authority of his parent, or tutor, for it ; 
 and till he finds that he has been misled by his parent or 
 tutor, he can never entertain any suspicion of them, or see 
 any reason for examining and questioning what they assert. 
 Rational conviction is generally preceded by such doubts and 
 suspicions as a child cannot possibly have entertained. Can 
 there be any reason then why we sliould avail ourselves of 
 the authority of a parent in other things, and make an excep- 
 tion with respect to religion only ? 
 
 Besides, when the thing is rightly understood and consid- 
 ered, it will appear not to be so very difficult a matter to give 
 even a child very useful notions of religion, and such as he 
 shall sufficiently understand ; as that there is a being caHed 
 God, who made him and all things ; that this Being, though 
 invisible himself, sees us wherever we are, and that he will 
 make us happy if we be good, and miserable if we be wicked. 
 If it should appear that, for some time, a child conceives of 
 God as of a man who lives above the clouds, and from thence 
 sees every thing that is done upon the earth, there will no ma,-. 
 
116 OF INSTRUCTION IN THE PRINCIPLES 
 
 terial inconvenience attend it ; because it is only a sense of the 
 power, the providence, and the government of God that is of 
 principal importance to be inculcated. What else he is, or 
 where he is, signifies very little in this case. A child may 
 also be made to understand that this God gave a commission 
 to a man, called Jesus Christ, to teach mankind his will and 
 to persuade them to practise it ; that he was put to death by 
 wicked men who would not hearken to him ; but that God 
 raised him from the dead, and will send him again to raise 
 all the dead ; when he will take the good with him into 
 heaven, a place of happiness, and send the wicked into hell, 
 a place of punishment. 
 
 There is nothing in all this but what a child, who has 
 attained to the use of speech, may be made to understand 
 sufficiently ; and yet, in fact, this is the substance of all that 
 is most important in religion. When children come to read, 
 they may easily be taught that the Bible contains several 
 books written by good men, which give an account of the 
 creation of the world, of what God has done for mankind, 
 what he enjoins us to do here, and how he will dispose of us 
 hereafter, together with the history of the prophets, of Jesus 
 Christ, of his apostles, and of good men in all ages ; and they 
 may be made to read the Scriptures, with the seriousness and 
 respect that is due to them. No other history was ever writ- 
 ten with such plainness and simplicity, no style is so easy as 
 that of the historical books of Scripture ; and with a little 
 judgment in selecting, and skill in explaining a few things 
 and expressions, any child that can read may be instructed in 
 the principles of religion from the Bible with peculiar advan- 
 tage ; and his mind will be impressed with greater force by 
 reading the words of God, and of his prophets, than those 
 which proceed from any less authority. 
 
 Some may object to the scheme of inculcating the princi- 
 ples of virtue from a regard to any mere authority, or even 
 from the consideration of rewards or punishments ; thinking 
 it better to have them inculcated at the very beginning, from 
 
OP MORALS AND RELIGION. 117 
 
 the most generous principles only, so as to make children 
 love virtue for its own sake. But such persons do not under- 
 stand, or do not consider, the true origin of our affections. 
 For the most disinterested of them become so by degrees 
 only, and are far otherwise at their first formation. Except 
 the mere gratification of our corporeal senses, we at first value 
 and pursue every thing for some other end than itself, and 
 afterwards come to value it for its own sake. A child has no 
 love or affection for any person whatever, till he has felt their 
 importance to himself, in the manner described before ; and 
 by degrees, dropping that immediate bond of union, he loves 
 others without any regard to himself. 
 
 This process admits of the easiest illustration from what is 
 known concerning the passion for money, which is acquired 
 so late in life, that the whole process of it may be easily ob- 
 served. Originally, money is not valued but for its use to 
 procure us the gratification of a desire of something else ; but, 
 by the force of habit, misers come to make that an end, which 
 at first was only a means, and are eagerly bent upon the ac- 
 cumulation of wealth as such, without ever thinking whether 
 themselves, or any person for whose welfare they are solici- 
 tous, be likely to make any use of it. 
 
 If, therefore, we should follow nature, we must instruct 
 children by the very same process. To talk to them of doing 
 what is right, for its own sake, cannot have any influence 
 upon them for the present. They must first of all have much 
 easier lessons given them, and make farther advances as they 
 are able. If any good be done by inculcating these refined 
 maxims of conduct upon children, it must be by means of 
 authority only, a child not being capable of comprehending 
 any other reason why he should adopt them ; and therefore 
 they are very improperly urged by those, who object to the 
 use of authority in teaching religion. 
 
 Whatever objection any person may have to the use of 
 authority to inculcate the principles of religion or the maxims 
 of right conduct upon children, all persons find themselves 
 
118 
 
 OP INSTRUCTION IN THE PRINCIPLES 
 
 obliged to have recourse to it, because they are not always 
 able to explain to a child, their reasons for his acting as they 
 prescribe; but content themselves with hoping that, when he 
 has, by any means, been accustomed to do what it is his duty, 
 interest, and happiness to do, he will in time be able to see 
 that his duty, interest, and happiness are concerned in it, and 
 therefore will be able to persevere from a regard to those bet- 
 ter motives. In like manner, it behoves every wise parent to 
 make use of his own authority, together with that of God, and 
 also of the prospect of rewards and punishments, both here 
 and hereafter, in order to enforce upon his child that course 
 of conduct, which he wishes him to pursue from more ingen- 
 uous principles, as soon as he shall be capable of it. 
 
 Besides, the submission to competent authority is of itself 
 right and our duty ; and a habit of ready submission in this 
 case will be of great use in the course of our lives. It ought, 
 therefore, by all means, to be inculcated upon young persons ; 
 and this is best done, and the habit most effectually formed, 
 by actually enforcing it, — esj>ecially where no other method 
 can be taken to engage them to do their duty from conviction 
 and inclination ; and frequent occasions for this interposition 
 of mere authority will occur, after persons are passed the 
 years of infancy. For as reason acquires strength, the pas- 
 sions acquire strength also; insomuch that the aid of author- 
 ity will be very useful till the full term at which the laws of 
 this country impower a man to act for himself Many per- 
 sons, who are now arrived to the age of forty or fifty, may re- 
 collect occasions, on which they are thankful or would have 
 been thankful for the control of another, when passion had 
 blinded their own judgment, at, or even after, twenty-one 
 years of age. 
 
 I will add, as an argument that must more especially en- 
 force the religious instruction of children, that, in fact, a 
 man has no choice, but whether his child shall imbibe the 
 principles of true or false religion, i. e. what he himself shall 
 deem to be so ; as it will be absolutely impossible to keep the 
 
OF MORALS AND RELIGION. 119 
 
 minds of his children free from all impressions of this kind, 
 unless they converse with nobody but himself, and a few select 
 friends, who may be apprized of his scheme, and concur with 
 him in it. Nay, if children go to any school, or be allowed 
 to converse with the servants or dependants of his parent 
 which cannot be entirely prevented, he must lose no time, and 
 be very attentive and assiduous, or his good impressions will 
 come too late to efface the bad ones, to which they will have 
 been exposed. Things being thus circumstanced, no person, 
 who considers the irreparable injury that may be done to the 
 mind by enthusiastic and superstitious notions of religion, can 
 hesitate about what he has to do in this case. 
 
THE IMPORTANCE OF EARLY RELIGIOUS 
 INSTRUCTION. 
 
 The great importance of an early religious education may 
 appear from this consideration, that the impression which 
 ideas make upon the mind does not depend upon the defini- 
 tions of them, but upon sensations, and a great variety of ideas, 
 that have been associated with them ; and these associations 
 require time to be formed and cemented. The idea of God 
 may be defined, and explained to a man of the world, who 
 has hardly ever heard, and seldom thought of him ; but the 
 impression that is made upon his mind when the name of God 
 is, at any time, mentioned to him, cannot be the same with 
 that which will be felt by a person who has been accustomed 
 to hear and think of God from his infancy, who has been 
 much conversant in the Scriptures, and has lived in a gen- 
 eral habit of devotion. In the mind of such a person the idea 
 of God must have acquired a thousand associations, which, 
 though they arc infinitely complex, will be felt as one sensa- 
 tion ; but, from the nature of the thing, it is impossible that 
 it should be ever fully explained, or comn)unicated to another. 
 The analysis of such an idea is far too difficult a problem for 
 any human sagacity; or if the thing were possible, the doing 
 of it would not enable a person to communicate the sensa- 
 tions that entered into it ; because the same events in life 
 would be necessary to it ; and without these the same result- 
 ing ideas and impressions cannot be obtained. 
 
 For this reason no two persons can have precisely the same 
 idea of any thing about which they are much conversant ; far 
 
EARLY RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION. 121 
 
 the minute associations which enter into it will be different, 
 though they may have a great resemblance ; and perhaps 
 there is no object of our thoughts from the impression of 
 which men feel more differently, than the idea of God ; 
 though the impression made by it on the minds of persons 
 educated in a similar manner will be nearly the same, so that 
 by using the same words they may communicate what may, 
 with sufficient propriety, be called the same feelings to each 
 other. 
 
 This observation, which appears to me of considerable im- 
 portance, I shall endeavour to illustrate by a case that very 
 much resembles it. All persons know what is meant by the 
 iexm. father, and if they are asked, would define it in the same 
 manner ; but the man who has never known a father of his 
 own, or, which is nearly the same thing, has had little con- 
 nection with him, no dependence upon him, or particular ob- 
 ligation to him, will by no means have the same feelings 
 when the word is pronounced to him, with the man who was 
 brought up in a constant uninterrupted intercourse with a 
 father, and has been the object of innumerable endearments 
 and kind offices, and who has likewise frequently felt the 
 effects of paternal correction. Every instance of this nature 
 has an effect, and therefore leaves an impression upon the 
 mind, which is not wholly lost. For though it soon becomes 
 separately indiscernable, it makes part of an infinitely com- 
 plex sensation, and is one of the elements of what is called 
 filial affection, or that mixture of love and reverence which is 
 the necessary result of paternal care properly conducted. 
 Now the most transient idea suggested by the word father 
 will excite in the mind of such a son a secondary idea, 
 which, though it does not affect the definition of the term, is, 
 however, inseparable from it ; and if dwelt upon, it will un- 
 fold itself into a most exquisite and incommunicable feeling. 
 To have this feeling a man must have lived a whole life in a 
 particular manner. 
 
122 THE IMPORTANCE 
 
 In like manner, besides those ideas annexed to such words 
 as God, religion, future life, &bc. which can be communi- 
 cated to others by their definitions, there are what are some- 
 times called secondary ideas, or feelings, which are aggre- 
 gate sensations, consisting of numberless other sensations 
 and ideas, which have been associated with them, and which 
 it is absolutely impossible for one person to communicate to 
 another ; because the same education, the same course of 
 instruction, the same early discipline, the same or similar cir- 
 cumstances in life, and the same reflections upon those cir- 
 cumstances, must have concurred in the formation of them. 
 They are, however, these infinitely complex and indescriba- 
 ble feelings that often give those ideas the greatest force, and 
 their influence upon the mind and conduct ; because disposi- 
 tions to love, fear, and obey God have a thousand times fol- 
 lowed those complex feelings, and pious and worthy resolu- 
 tions have been connected with them. 
 
 On this account, persons whose education has been much 
 neglected, but who begin to hear of religion and apply them- 
 selves to it late in life, can never acquire the devotional feel- 
 ings of those who have had a religious education ; nor can it 
 be expected that they will be uniformly influenced by them. 
 They may use the same language, but their feelings will, not- 
 withstanding, be very different. 
 
 The difference is, however, nothing more than is observed 
 in other similar cases. A man, who has from his infancy 
 been conversant with any thing, will have ideas of it very dif- 
 ferently modified from those of the person who has acquired 
 them by the information of others, or later in life. A person 
 who has been bred in a camp will have very different ideas of 
 every thmg relating to war from those who have only heard 
 or read of such things, or who have seen something of war 
 later in life; and the ideas of the former cannot, in the nature 
 of things, be communicated with precision toothers ; because 
 the component parts of those ideas, or rather the feelings. 
 
OF EARLY RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION. 123 
 
 were acquired by passing through a variety of scenes which 
 made a deep impression upon the mind, and therefore left 
 traces proportionably deep. 
 
 I shall conclude with observing, that the influence of gen- 
 eral states of mind, turns of thought, and fixed habits, which 
 are the consequence of them, is so great, that too much atten- 
 tion cannot be given to education, and the conduct of early 
 life. Supposing the present laws of our minds to continue 
 (and there is no more reason to expect a change in them than 
 in any other of the laws of nature), our happiness to endless 
 ages must depend upon it. It is a necessary consequence of 
 the principle of association, that the mind grows more callous 
 to new impressions continually ; it being already occupied 
 with ideas and sensations which render it indisposed to re- 
 ceive others, especially of a heterogeneous nature. 
 
 We, in fact, seldom see any considerable change in a per- 
 son's temper and habits after he has grown to man's estate. 
 Nothing short of an entire revolution in his circumstances 
 and mode of life can effect it. This analogy will lead us 
 to consider the state of our minds at the commencement of 
 another life (being produced by the whole of our passage 
 through this) as still more fixed, and indisposed to any change 
 for the better or worse. Consequently, our happiness or 
 misery for the whole of our existence depends, in a great 
 measure, on the manner in which we begin our progress 
 through it. 
 
 The effects of religious impressions made upon the mind 
 in early life may be overpowered for a time by impressions of 
 an opposite nature, but there will always be a possibility of 
 their reviving in favorable circumstances ; i. e. in circumstan- 
 ces in which ideas formerly connected with religious impres- 
 sions will necessarily be presented to the mind, and detained 
 there. Let a man be ever so profligate, his friends may 
 always have hopes of his being reclaimed, if he had a reli- 
 gious education, and his religious impressions were not 
 effaced very early. But if no foundation of religion has been 
 
124 THE IMPORTANCE 
 
 laid in early life, many of the most favorable opportunities of 
 being brought to a sense of their duty are lost upon them. 
 For in the minds of such persons there are no religious im- 
 pressions, not even in a dormant state, and capable of being 
 revived by circumstances that have the most natural and the 
 strongest connections with them. Also ideas of religion,^ 
 like those of other objects with which we form an acquaint- 
 ance too late in life, will never make much impression ; and 
 being foreign, and dissimilar to all the other impressions with 
 which the mind has been occupied, they will never be able 
 to take place for a sufficient length of time ; other associa- 
 tions continually taking place to the exclusion of these. 
 
 Besides, as the objects about which we are much conver- 
 sant are apt to become magnified in our minds, as persons 
 unavoidably value their own professions and pursuits, and the 
 more in proportion as they have less knowledge of others ; 
 habits and practices that are really vicious, ultimately perni- 
 cious in society, and quite opposite to every thing of a reli- 
 gious nature, will have formed unnatural associations with 
 ideas of honor, spirit, and other things of a similar kind ; so 
 that some virtues and religious duties, as humility, modesty, 
 temperance, chastity, &c. will never appear to them respec- 
 table and engaging ; and, on account of the connexion of 
 these virtues with others, every thing belonging to strict 
 morals and religion will be regarded with aversion and con- 
 tempt. This turn of thinking may, for want of early reli- 
 gious impressions, be so confirmed that nothing in the usual 
 course of human life shall be able to change it. The very 
 things that are the means and incitements to religion and de- 
 votion in previously well-disposed minds, have the very op- 
 posite effect on others. Thus we see that the reading of the 
 devotional parts of Scripture, of incidents in the life of Christ 
 and the apostles, the meditation upon which fills the minds of 
 some with reverence and devotion, even to ecstasy, are read 
 by others with ridicule or disgust. No argument can be of 
 any use to such persons, because the thing that is wanting is 
 
OF EARLY RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION. 125 
 
 a proper set of associated feelings arising from actual impres- 
 sions, the season for which is over, and will never return. 
 The contempt of religion in such persons is only increased 
 by endeavours to persuade them of its value ; so that it is 
 much more advisable, when persons are got to a certain pitch 
 of infidelity and profligacy, to let them alone, and entirely 
 cease to remonstrate with them on the subject. The very 
 discoursing about religion only revives such ideas as they 
 have formerly connected with it, and which renders the sub- 
 ject odious to them. 
 
 The plain inference from all this is, that if we wish that 
 religious impressions should ever have a serious hold upon 
 the mind, they must be made in early life. Care, however, 
 must be taken, lest, by making religious exercises too rigor- 
 ous, an early aversion be excited, and so the very end we have 
 in view be defeated. 
 
INFIDELITY. 
 
 If I be asked why I write so much as I do, on the 
 subject of the Evidences of Christianitj/ (for many of my 
 publications relate to it,) I answer, that both its infinite im- 
 portance and the extraordinary crisis of the times call for it 
 from every person who conceives that he has any prospect of 
 being heard and attended to. There is no subject whatever 
 with respect to which I am more ftdly satisfied myself ; and 
 few persons, I imagine, will pretend that they have given so 
 much attention to it as I have done. It does not, however, 
 follow from this circumstance, that I have viewed it in every 
 possible light, and that others may not discover what I have 
 overlooked. I have therefore wished to promote the most 
 free and open discussion of it, and have not failed to invite, 
 nay, to provoke, this examination, on every proper occasion. 
 
 When, however, we have done all that we can, we must 
 leave the event to a wise Providence, whose instruments we 
 are, and which has, no doubt, the best ends to answer both 
 by the promulgation of Christianity, and the present remark- 
 able progress of infidelity. And believing this,, we should 
 not, after doing what we conceive to be our duty, make our- 
 selves unhappy ; though influenced, as we necessarily are, by 
 the objects that are nearest to us, it must give pain to every 
 zealous Christian to see so many persons, for whose in- 
 tellectual and moral improvement he is concerned, and 
 especially his near friends and relations, carried away by the 
 torrent, which he sees to sweep before it every principle that 
 he feels to be most valuable and useful to himself; leaving 
 
INFIDELITY. 127 
 
 them mere worldly-minded beings instead of heavenly-minded, 
 bounding their prospects by the grave, when his own most 
 pleasing prospects are beyond it. 
 
 When I read the Scriptures, in which I have increasing 
 satisfaction as I advance in life, the animating accounts 
 which there abound, of the perfections and providence of 
 God, extending to all the affairs of individual men as well 
 as those of states and kingdoms ; and especially the glorious 
 prospects that are there given us of the future state of things 
 in the world, with respect to the great events which seem now 
 to be approaching ; and the light that is thrown over the state 
 beyond the grave, so encouraging to every virtuous endeavour ; 
 I cannot help wishing that all persons might partake with 
 me in them, and I feel the most sensible concern for those 
 who cannot do it. Unbelievers cannot have the solid con- 
 solation that Christians have, under all the troubles of life, 
 especially those that are endured for the sake of a good con- 
 science, arising from the persuasion that all things are work- 
 ing together for their good, if not here, yet assuredly hereafter. 
 Least of all can the unbeliever, at the approach of death, sing 
 the triumphant song of the Christian, " O grave, where is thy 
 victory 1 O death, where is thy sting? " 
 * * * 
 
 I wish it were possible for me to convey to my philosophical 
 unbelieving friends, the feeling I have of the value of Chris- 
 tianity, a value which is enhanced by the experience of a 
 pretty long and various life, in which Christian principles 
 have been of the most substantial use to me, both in prosperity 
 and in adversity; and, as they have supported me through 
 life, they will, I doubt not, afford consolation in the hour of 
 death. But it is not in the power of language to express all 
 that I feel on this subject. Such complex feelings as I wish 
 to communicate, have been formed by associations that have 
 been accumulating in a long series of events and reflections ; 
 in reading, thinking, and conversation, &c. ; so that a man 
 must have lived in a great measure as I have lived, and 
 
128 INFIDELITY. 
 
 consequently have felt what I have felt, before he can be 
 impressed as I am, with the language appropriated to religion, 
 and especially the language of the Scriptures. What im- 
 presses me with the deepest reverence, would be heard by 
 many with indifference or contempt. 
 
 My reader may make an experiment, as it were, on his 
 own feelings, by attending to the prayer of Jesus, in the 
 seventeenth chapter of John's Gospel, and the language of 
 Paul, in those epistles which he wrote from Rome a short 
 time before his death. 
 
 But animating and encouraging as their language is, to 
 those who, like Jesus and Paul, have in some measure de- 
 voted their lives and employed their best talents, to the same 
 great purposes, it cannot be felt, and will be but imperfectly 
 conceived, by others. Some persons, however, who have not 
 taken their place in the seat of the scorner, if their early 
 education has not been very unfavourable, and especially if 
 they have been so happy as to have met with disappointments 
 in life, may conceive that there is something enviable in the 
 state of mind in which their language could be adopted. 
 * # * 
 
 Young persons are apt to be dazzled with the reputation 
 of several unbelievers, who have been greatly overrated by 
 their friends. I feel no disposition to detract from their 
 merit in any respect, though I think integrity the most im- 
 portant qualification in searching after truth. But, however 
 brilliant may have been the talents of some unbelievers (I 
 speak only of writers), they are not the men to whom the 
 world is most indebted for making real advances in useful 
 knowledge. In this respect I will venture to say, that 
 nothing of much consequence has been done by any of them. 
 Mr. Hume, I have shown in my "Letters to a Philosophical 
 Unbeliever," did not advance a single step in metaphysics, 
 in which he held himself out as having done the most. The 
 excellence of Voltaire was that of a poet and a lively writer. 
 D'Alembert can hardly be classed among writers in defence 
 
INFIDELITY, 129 
 
 of infidelity; but his merit, besides that of an elegant writer 
 in prose, is that of a mathematician, and he did not much 
 advance the bouuds of that branch of knowledge. The 
 rest have no claim to reputation, but as writers against reve- 
 lation. And what were any or all them, compared with 
 Newton, Locke, or Hartley, who were equally eminent as 
 divines and as philosophers? 
 
 But what young persons entering upon life should be most 
 influenced by (if by anything besides the mere love of truth,) 
 is the tendency of any system to promote virtue and happiness. 
 In this respect what can we infer concerning Voltaire and 
 D'Alembert, from their own letters, but that they were men 
 full of self-conceit, despising even all unbelievers besides 
 themselves, full also of jealousy and malignity, perpetually 
 complaining of the world, and of all things in it; and if we 
 join to them their correspondent and admirer (but one whom 
 it is evident they did not much admire), the late king of 
 Prussia, we shall not add much to the mass of moral re- 
 spectability or real happiness. No Christian, in the hum- 
 blest and most afflicted situation in life, need to envy them. 
 I would not exchange my own feelings, even those in sit- 
 uations in which they would have thought me an object of 
 compassion, for all the satisfaction they could have enjoyed 
 in the happiest scenes of their lives. To social beings the 
 great balm of life is friendship, founded on real esteem and 
 affection, and of this they evidently had very little ; whereas 
 the attachment that I feel for many of my Christian friends, 
 though now separated from me by the ocean, and some of them 
 by death, is, I am confident, a source of infinitely greater sat- 
 isfaction to me, than all their friendships ever were, or could 
 be of, to them. 
 
TENDENCY TO ATHEISM IN MODERN UNBELIEVERS. 
 
 The progress of infidelity in the present age is attended 
 with a circumstance which did not so frequently accom- 
 pany it in any former period, at least in England, which is, 
 that unbelievers in revelation generally proceed to the dis- 
 belief of the being and providence of God, so as to become 
 properly Atheists. Hov/ever, when the subject is duly con- 
 sidered, it will be found that the same disposition and turn 
 of mind which leads to Deism, will naturally, in the present 
 state of knowledge, lead to Atheism. 
 
 Whatever exceptions there may be to the observation, it 
 is for the most part true, that a wish to reject revelation 
 precedes the actual rejection of it. The belief of it is felt 
 as a restraint, which many persons are desirous of throwing 
 off, and this is more effectually done on the atheistical than 
 on the deisiical system. I must be allowed to take it for 
 granted, because I am confident that, with few exceptions 
 (and I should rejoice if I could think they were more), it is 
 a fact, that it is the too strict morals of the Scriptures that 
 displeases the generality of unbelievers. The rule of life 
 prescribed in those books is more definite and less easily 
 evaded, than that which is perceived by the mere light of 
 nature, which is too easily made to bend to men's inclinations ; 
 so that they who profess to follow that only, find no great 
 difficulty in justifying to themselves any indulgence to which 
 they are much inclined, and which Christians of every de- 
 nomination condemn. And for the same reason that an un- 
 believer, viciously inclined, prefers natural to revealed re- 
 
TENDENCY TO ATHEISM IN MODERN UNBELIEVERS. 131 
 
 ligion, he will prefer no religion at all, or pure atheism, 
 which rejects every i.lea of a future state, to deism which 
 admits of it. 
 
 While the rewards of virtue and the punishments of vice 
 are supposed to take place in this life only, and are seen to 
 be what they really are, very various and uncertain, a regard 
 to them will not be sufficient to control strong natural in- 
 clinations. We see every day that, though habitual intem- 
 perance occasions diseases and premature death, thousands, 
 who yet are as far from courting disease or death as other 
 persons, persist in sensual indulgence ; thinking at the time 
 that in each particular transgression of the rules of temperance, 
 there is little, if any thing, criminal ; that it is a thing which 
 affects themselves only ; and flatter themselves that the con- 
 sequences will either not take place with respect to them, or 
 will be inconsiderable, so as to be overbalanced by the present 
 enjoyment. Now were all consideration of religion removed, 
 men would have no more restraint with respect to any practice 
 whatever, to which they were naturally inclined, than they 
 usually have with respect to excess in eating and drinking. 
 They would have no dread of future punishment, and would 
 flatter themselves with the hope of escaping any temporal in- 
 convenience. 
 
 While the belief of the being of a God, of a providence, and 
 of a future state, were articles of faith with those who rejected 
 revelation (which was the case with all the celebrated unbe- 
 lievers in England in the last and beginning of the present 
 century), there was a considerable restraint upon men's con- 
 duct. It is true that the rule of moral duty is less accurately 
 defined on the principles of the mere light of nature, than on 
 those of revelation, and therefore unbelievers could without 
 self-reproach take greater liberties in their conduct than 
 Christians ; but still there v/ould remain a suspicion, that the 
 Supreme Being, who would hereafter call them to account for 
 their conduct, might judge differently from what they did ; 
 and as they would not be able at all times to secure the ap- 
 
132 TENDENCY TO ATHEISM 
 
 probation of their own minds in their reflections on their 
 conduct, so fully as they could wish to do it, they might 
 dread the more impartial judgment of God. But this appre- 
 hension and restraint, to whatever it might amount, would be 
 wholly remo-ved on the supposition of there being no God, no 
 providence, or future state. A vicious unbeliever in revela- 
 tion would therefore naturally not be displeased on finding 
 the evidence for this belief weaker than he had thought it to 
 be, and rejoice when he could think it to be of no weight at 
 all. And this shows the natural tendency of deism to atheism. 
 If a man be an unbeliever in a future state, it is of little or no 
 consequence with respect to his conduct, whether he believe 
 in the being of a God or not ; because on that supposition this 
 belief would add nothing to the sanctions of virtue. 
 
 Or, supposing the disposition, or bias, that leads a man to 
 infidelity be not a propensity to any kind of vicious indul- 
 gence, but only a wish to be considered as a person free from 
 vulgar prejudices, and one who thinks for himself; he will be 
 farther removed from the vulgar by rejecting the belief of a 
 God, a providence, and a future state, than by the rejection of 
 revelation only. If he have any thing of this disposition, 
 which is felt in a greater or less degree by most persons of 
 liberal education, or who have much intercourse with the 
 fashionable world, he will feel more pride and self-complacence 
 in proportion as he recedes farther from the ideas and senti- 
 ments of those whose education has been more confined, and 
 who have seen less of the world than he has done. 
 * * * 
 
 M. Volney's account of the primitive condition of man, 
 without any known author or guide, is not a little curious. 
 He says " it is a sufficient answer to all systems which sup- 
 pose the interposition of a God, in the origin of the world, 
 ' that man receives all his ideas by means of his senses ; ' 
 that ' at his oi igin man was formed naked, with respect to 
 body and mind, thrown by accident upon the earth, confused 
 and savage, an orphan abandoned by the unknown power 
 
IN MODERN UNBELIEVERS. 133 
 
 which produced him. He found no being descended from 
 the heaven to inform him of his wants, which he learns only 
 from his senses, or of his duties, which arise only from his 
 wants. Like other animals, without experience of the past, 
 or foresight of the future, he wandered in the midst of the 
 forest, guided and governed by the affections of his nature. By 
 the pain of hunger he was led to his food, and to provide for 
 his sustenance ; by the intemperature of the air he wished to 
 cover his body, and he made himself clothes ; by the attraction 
 of pleasure he approached a being like himself, and per- 
 petuated his species.' " 
 
 M. Volney did not, surely, consider that the first man, let 
 him have had a maker or no maker ; let him have dropped 
 from the clouds, or have risen out of the earth ; let him 
 have been produced in a state of infancy or of manhood ; 
 yet that, without instruction, he must have perished before 
 he could, by his own sensations and experience, have ac- 
 quired knowledge enough to preserve his life. The pain 
 of hunger would have come upon him long before he could 
 have learned to walk, or have got the use of any of his 
 limbs ; and the more fidl grown he was at the time of his 
 production, the more difficult would his learning to walk, 
 or even to crawl, have been. Man, therefore, must have 
 had a guide as well as a maker; and divine interposition 
 was absolutely necessary at his entrance into life. M. Vol- 
 ney's idea was evidently that of a Robinson Crusoe, thrown 
 upon an uninhabited island, with all the knowledge that he 
 had acquired in the course of his former life. His primitive 
 man must have been produced with the instinctive knowledge 
 of a gardener at least. He must have been able to distinguish 
 fruits that were wholesome from those that were noxious, and 
 have got, by some means or other, the use of his limbs, his 
 eyes, and other senses, before it would have been in his power 
 to avail himself of that knowledge. 
 
 Let M. Volney consider what he himself, with his present 
 strength of muscles and acuteness of intellect, could have 
 
134 TENDENCY TO ATHEISM IN MODERN UNBELIEVERS. 
 
 done, in the situation of his primitive man. Let him have 
 been left on the earth in ever so favorable a climate, 
 and in ever so warm and comfortable a place, so as to want 
 no clothing ; yet, having no ideas but such as he got by the 
 impression of the objects around him, he would have been no 
 better than a great sprawling infant. By the stimulus of 
 light he would have opened and shut his eyes, but would 
 have had no idea of the relative distances of any objects. 
 The nearest tree, the remotest hill, and even the heavenly 
 bodies would have seemed to be in the same plane and all 
 contiguous to him. He might have moved his arms and legs 
 in an automatic manner, but he would not have been able to 
 rise from the ground. He would have felt the pain of hunger ; 
 but though the most proper food should have happened to be 
 ever so near to him, he could not have known, without expe- 
 rience, that eating would remove that pain. He would there- 
 fore have lain a helpless prey to the first wild beast, if there 
 were any, that should have happened to find him. If it 
 should have happened that a female, of the same size, had 
 been produced at the same time, and have been dropped by 
 another accident (the chance of which must have been very 
 small indeed) ever so near him ; being equally ignorant, they 
 would have been equally helpless, and must soon have perished 
 together, without any perpetuation of the species. All would 
 have been to begin again, and to no better purpose. 
 
 If M. Volney will give himself time to think a little more 
 clo.sely on this important subject, he will find that Divine 
 interpositions must have been necessary at least at the for- 
 mation of man, or that his formation would have been in vain; 
 and if they were necessary then, they may have been ex- 
 pedient, since that time. Moses's account of the primitive 
 state of man, though not without its difficulties, is certainly 
 much more probable than that of M. Volney. Indeed, no 
 hypothesis can well be more improbable than his. 
 
THE PREVALENCE OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 Ardently as the zealous Christian must wish for the 
 extension of his religion, and the universal prevalence of 
 those principles which he conceives calculated to enlighten 
 his own mind, to cheer his heart under all the vicissitudes of 
 life, and to give him hope even in death ; and much as he 
 will, consequently, lament the prevalence of principles which 
 have an opposite tendency ; yet, upon a more extensive view 
 of the subject, he will see no reason to be disturbed or 
 alarmed at the present aspect of things. 
 
 The prevalence of infidelity, great as it certainly is, can 
 never be universal. Admitting revealed religion to be ever 
 so ill-founded, no better, for example, than the heathenism 
 of the Greeks and Romans, yet being the faith of the bulk 
 of the common people in all countries called Christian, and 
 they having a strong attachment to it, it may be taken for 
 granted that they will long continue to believe it ; since it is 
 universally true that the common people, who receive their 
 opinions and practices from their ancestors, and are little dis- 
 posed to speculate, are very backward to change them, and 
 retain them a long time after the more thinking and inquis- 
 itive abandon them. This we see to be the case even when 
 the new religion has something the most inviting to offer in 
 the place of the system that is to be given up. Heathenism 
 continued in many villages of the Roman empire six hundred 
 years after the promulgation of Christianity. But as modern 
 unbelievers do not pretend to have any thing to propose as an 
 
136 THE PREVALENCE OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 equivalent to what the Christian mus^ abandon, it may be 
 expected to continue much longer in the world, and inde- 
 pendently of any rational evidence in its favor. 
 
 But the rational Christian, having no doubt of the truth 
 of his religion, is confident that it will finally prevail, and by 
 its own evidence, when it comes to be attended to, bear 
 down all opposition. It will be sufficient to all impartial per- 
 sons, even those who have not the leisure, or the means, of 
 entering into the historical investigation themselves, that the 
 truly intelligent, the inquisitive, the candid, and the virtuous, 
 will be the friends of revelation ; and that the firm belief of it 
 tends to form a character superior to that of unbelievers, in- 
 spiring a dignity and elevation of mind incompatible with any 
 thing mean or base. 
 
 The true Christian, having a constant respect to God, a 
 providence, and a future state, feels himself less interested 
 in the things that excite the avarice, the ambition, and other 
 base passions of men ; and consequently his mind, elevated by 
 devotion, more easily expands itself into universal benev- 
 olence, and all the heroic virtues that are connected with 
 it. The Christian, believing that every thing under the 
 govennnent of God will have a glorious termination in uni- 
 versal virtue and universal happiness, easily yields himself 
 the willing instrument in the hands of Providence, for so 
 great a purpose; and considering himself as, with the apostle, 
 a worker together \uth God, he will live a life of habitual de- 
 votion and benevolence ; sentiments which are inconsistent 
 with a propensity to sensual and irregular indulgence. 
 
 On the other hand, the generality of unbelievers will ap- 
 pear to be persons to whom the subject of religion is on 
 some account or other, unpleasant ; who, therefore, give but 
 little attention to it or its evidences, and therefore cannot be 
 deemed competent judges of them, whatever be their ability 
 or knowledge in other respects. A great proportion of them, 
 it cannot be denied, are also profligate and licentious in their 
 
THE PREVALENCE OP INFIDELITY. 137 
 
 manners; and seldom or never looking to God, or a provi- 
 dence, they must have their views greatly contracted, and of 
 course shew other symptoms of a little and narrow mind. 
 
 If any persons will say that the principles of Christianity 
 tend not to elevate but to debase the human character, I 
 cannot help, from my own very different views of things, 
 concluding his mind is under some very improper influence, 
 such as prevents his forming a true judgment in one of the 
 clearest of cases. If he be capable of understanding Hart- 
 ley's Theory of the Mind, he may see what I have advanced 
 on this subject demonstrated, as far as any thing relating to 
 the affections of the mind is capable of demonstration. He 
 may see the pleasures of sensation, imagination, ambition, self- 
 interest, sympathy, theopathy, and the moral sense, rise in 
 due gradation, and the three last-mentioned to coalesce and 
 absorb the former, as the human character advances in excel- 
 lence ; the consequence of which is a capacity for higher 
 and more durable gratifications with respect to a man's self, 
 and superior qualifications and dispositions for communica- 
 ting happiness to others. 
 
 Also, the great views opened to us in revelation, and in 
 revelation only, are necessary, as I have shewn in my " Dis- 
 courses on the Evidence of Revealed Religion," to enlarge 
 the comprehension of the human mind, and thereby to give 
 us the same kind of superiority over other men, that men in 
 general have over brutes. Unbelievers in revelation and a 
 future state will have very little inducement to think of God, 
 or of a providence ; and consequently, with very few excep- 
 tions, they become not only practical, but speculative atheists. 
 It is impossible, therefore, that they should attaiu that state 
 of habitual devotion, or that constant regard to God, that 
 lively sense of his intimate presence with them, and government 
 over them, which is necessary to great excellence of character, 
 and which has an intimate connexion with the most disin- 
 terested and active benevolence. 
 
138 THE PREVALENCE OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 I am far, however, from being unwilling to acknowledge, 
 that there are many persons, of whose understandings I have 
 the highest opinion, but whose objects of attention have been 
 wholly different from mine, who will be so far from concurring 
 with me in this opinion, of the superiority of the Christian 
 character, that they will treat it with contempt ; and unless 
 all their habits of living and thinking (which go together), 
 could be reversed, there is no prospect of leading them to 
 entertain different ideas. In this case there is no remedy. 
 We must continue to differ. They will make light of my 
 opinion on the subject, and I shall consider them with com- 
 passion ; hoping, however, that in a future period of their 
 existence, even they will come to feel and think as I do, and 
 that we shall all see reason to rejoice in reflecting on the 
 wonderful, but eventually successful methods, by which such 
 a glorious catastrophe will have been brought about. 
 
 Considering the many disadvantages luider which the de- 
 fence of Christianity now labors, especially from a prevailing 
 aversion to the subject, and a consequent indisposition to give 
 that attention to its evidences which the importance of it 
 requires ; seeing so many excellent defences of it pass un- 
 heeded, or without any considerable effect, except confirming 
 the faith of those who are already Christians ; I say, judging 
 from this aspect of things, I am inclined to think that the 
 final triumph which is destined for the Christian religion, and 
 which is the subject of so many prophecies, will not be left to be 
 accomplished by the slow process of argumentation (which, 
 however, would no doubt produce the same effect in a suffi- 
 cient length of time), but by another age of miracles, more 
 illustrious than any that have yet been displayed, and which 
 is also the subject of several prophecies ; especially that of Joel, 
 quoted by Peter on the day of Pentecost, which I do not 
 think has yet had its proper accomplishment. " It shall 
 come to pass in the last day, that I will pour out my 
 spirit on all flesh," &c. ; and that this glorious time will 
 
THE PREVALENCE OF INFIDELITY. 139 
 
 be preceded by the personal appearance of Christ descending 
 in the clouds of heaven, and coming to exercise his proper 
 kingdom. 
 
 This second coming of Christ, and the commencement of 
 the millenium, we are led by a whole series of prophecies 
 to expect immediately after the overthrow of the present Euro- 
 pean monarchies, which are evidently tottering to their base. 
 Judging also by what we see, there is no prospect of the gen- 
 eral conversion of the Jews but in such a manner as the apos- 
 tle Paul was converted, that is, by the personal appearance 
 of Christ himself; when, and not before, they will say, 
 "Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord." 
 
 According to the same spirit of prophecy, the destruction 
 of popery, or Paul's man of sin, is not to be effected but by the 
 appearance of Christ himself; and this event may not be very 
 distant. In short, all things seem to be approaching in an 
 extraordinary manner, but by the operation of natural causes, 
 to the very state that v/as foretold so many ages ago, as to 
 precede those glorious and happy times, when " the whole 
 earth" will be filled with " the knowledge of the Lord;" 
 when there will be, though in fact here below, " new heav- 
 ens and a new earth, in which will dwell righteousness." 
 
 In the mean time, Christianity will serve to discriminate 
 the characters of men. It will in general be cheerfully em- 
 braced by the worthiest and the best of men, and it will be 
 the means of making them worthier and better, while it will 
 be rejected by the unworthy ; and this rejection, accompa- 
 nied with a less restrained indulgence of their appetites, and 
 their giving with more eagerness into a variety of worldly 
 pursuits, will tend to debase their character stdl more. And, 
 from the knowledge that I have of men, it is evident to me 
 that this is the case in fact. 
 
 That Christianity should have this twofold effect is not ex- 
 traordinary. It is necessarily the case, in the wise plan of 
 Providence, with every other means of virtuous improvement. 
 Neither prosperity nor adversity are ever sent in vain, never 
 
140 THE PREVALENCE OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 leaving any man as they found him, but always making him 
 either better or worse. Prosperity may either make a man 
 more grateful to God, and more benevolent to man ; or it 
 may make him proud, insolent, and unfeeling ; and adversity 
 may either make him humble and resigned, or fretful, peev- 
 ish, and malevolent. 
 
 The intelligent Christian will also see a valuable purpose 
 answered by the present prevalence of infidelity. It is a 
 striking fulfilment of the prophecies of our Saviour ; who, 
 though he foretold that his church should never fail, likewise 
 intimated that, at his second coming, he should not find much 
 faith (or a general belief and expectation of his coming) in 
 the eaith. It is likewise a confirmation of what the apostles 
 have written concerning the apostacy of the latter days. In 
 the mean time, the prevalence of infidelity is the most effica- 
 cious means of purifying our religion from the abuses and 
 corruptions which at present debase it; and especially of over- 
 turning the civil establishments of Christianity in all Chris- 
 tian countries, whereby the kingdom of Christ has been made 
 a kingdom of this world, having been made subservient to 
 the corrupt policy of men, and in every respect the reverse of 
 what it originally was. 
 
 Thus are unbelievers employed by Divine Providence to 
 reform the Cliristian church. They will do it far more effec- 
 tually than its friends would have done; and this will pave 
 the way for its universal prevalence hereafter. Thus the cor- 
 ruptions and abuses of Christianity produce infidelity ; and 
 this infidelity is the means, in the wise order of Providence, 
 of the complete cure of those corruptions and abuses, with 
 only a temporary and partial injury to that religion, of which 
 they are so great an incumbrance. 
 
DUTY OF CHRISTIANS RESPECTING THE PRESENT 
 PREVALENCE OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 In this state of the open rejection of Christianity by 
 so many persons of the most conspicuous characters, it is the 
 peculiar duty of every Christian to make the most open pro- 
 fession of his religion, without being moved by the apostacy 
 of ever so great a number, or the obloquy or ridicule to 
 which he may be exposed on that account ; remembering the 
 awful denunciation of our Saviour, " Whosoever shall be 
 ashamed of me, and of my words — of him also will the Son 
 of Man be ashamed, when he cometh in the glory of his 
 Father, with the holy angels." 
 
 In order to make this open profession of Christianity to 
 the most advantage, it is necessary that Christians should 
 assemble for the purpose of public worship, though in the 
 smallest numbers ; letting it be known that there is such 
 worship, and that others may attend if they please. A 
 Christian who is not known to be such, except by the general 
 uprightness of his conduct, will no doubt be respected, but 
 not as a Christian. It will not be known on what principles 
 he acts, and therefore others will be but little wiser or better 
 by his means. But a Christian church, a number of persons 
 regularly meeting as such, to encourage and edify one 
 another, reading the Scriptures, and administering Christian 
 ordinances, is, as our Saviour said, " a city set on a hill," 
 which " cannot be hid ; " and when our light thus shines 
 before men, others will not only see our good works, but also 
 the principles from which they proceed, and thus be led to 
 
142 DUTY OF CHRISTIANS RESPECTING THE 
 
 glorify our Father who is in heaven. For the same reason, 
 when a spurious and corrupt Christianity is most prevalent, 
 the more intelligent Christians should separate themselves, 
 and form other societies for public worship, that unbelievers 
 may have an opportunity of judging between them, and not 
 be led to take it for granted that there is no Christianity, but 
 such as they perhaps justly reject. 
 
 Every Christian shoulr), as far as possible, make him- 
 self master of the arguments in favor of his religion, that he 
 may appear not to be governed by a principleof implicit faith, 
 but, as the apostle Peter says, " be ready always to give an 
 answer to every man that asketh him a reason of the hope 
 that is in him." And the main argument for the truth of 
 Christianity (but from tie discussion of which all unbelievers 
 have hitherto shrunk) is very plain and intelligible. It is the 
 certain belief of the great facts on which it is founded, by 
 those wlio must have known the truth of the case, and who 
 were most nearly interested to ascertain it. If, on such un- 
 deniable evidence, it be true, that Christ wrought real mira- 
 cles, that he died and rose from the dead, the Christian reli- 
 gion is true ; and we may depend upon it that, according to 
 his repeated declarations, he will come again, to raise all the 
 dead, to judge the world, and to give to every ma« according 
 to his works, (which is all that is of most consequence in 
 Christianity,) whatever unbelievers may find to object to the 
 system in other respects. 
 
 But we should most carefully bear in mind, that in the 
 defence of Christianity, as in our whole conduct, we should 
 show a disposition worthy of it. Besides that uniform supe- 
 riority of mind to this world, which removes us to the great- 
 est distance from every thing mean and base ; besides that 
 spirit of habitual devotion and universal benevolence which 
 raises the human character to the highest pitch of moral e.K- 
 cellence, (of the most important elements of which, unbeliev- 
 ers, who have not the enlarged views that Christianity opens 
 to us, are necessarily destitute,) let our behaviour towards 
 
PRESENT PREVALENCE OF INFIDELITY. 143 
 
 unbelievers themselves be the reverse of what theirs generally 
 is towards Christians, and which is so conspicuous in the 
 writings of Voltaire and others. Let there be nothing in it 
 of their sarcastic turn of mind, which implies both contempt 
 and malevolence. Let it be with that meekness and benevo- 
 lence which the apostles so strongly recommended. (1 Peter, 
 iii. 15; 2 Tim. ii. 25.) Let every thing we say on the subject, 
 or do with respect to it, discover the greatest good-will and 
 friendly concern for those who differ from us, though in a 
 matter of so much consequence. Let us consider them as 
 persons who are unhappily misled by false views of things, 
 and whom, if they be of a candid disposition, a juster view 
 will set right; but whom an angry or contemptuous opposition 
 would irritate and alienate more than ever. 
 
 Let us regard Christianity itself as only a means of virtue 
 and moral improvement, and therefore let us rejoice if infi- 
 delity do not (as, however, it is too apt to do), lead men into 
 vice. Unbelievers may be men of decent and valuable char- 
 acters, though destitute of the more sublime virtues which 
 give the greatest dignity to human nature, and fit them in a 
 more eminent manner for the peculiar employment, and the 
 peculiar happiness, of a future state. Let us also indulge the 
 pleasing hope, that hereafter, though not at present, their 
 minds, if not essentially depraved, wanting only that farther 
 light which will irresistibly burst upon tliem hereafter, they 
 will be every thing that we can wish for them ; and therefore 
 that, though we differ at present, we shall sometime hence 
 rejoice together. We are all brethren, children of the same 
 Father ; and though differing ever so much in other respects, 
 should regard and love one another as such. Besides, how 
 can we show our superiority or greater comprehension of 
 mind, arising from a habit of attending to great and distant 
 objects and looking beyond ourselves, but by greater meek- 
 ness, forbearance, candor, and benevolence towards men ; as 
 well as by greater resignation, and habitual devotion with 
 
144 DUTY OF CHRISTIANS RESPECTING THE 
 
 respect to God, and a greater command over our appetites 
 and passions in general ? 
 
 We should ever bear in mind, thiat superior knowledge 
 implies superior obligations. As to believe in a God, and yet 
 live as without God in the world, is worse than being an 
 atheist ; so to profess Christianity, while its principles have 
 no influence upon us, not improving our dispositions and con- 
 duct, is much worse than not to believe it at all. A profli- 
 gate unbeliever is much more excusable than a worldly- 
 minded, immoral Christian, a Christian destitute of candor 
 and benevolence. 
 
 Christians surrounded by unbelievers, perhaps without 
 any opportunity of attending public worship, and the received 
 custom of the times excluding the mention of any thing re- 
 lating to religion in conversation, should be careful to con- 
 firm and strengthen their own faith by a voluntary attention 
 to the principles and evidences of it. Faith, as Dr. Hartley 
 has shown, admits of degrees ; and between a merely rational 
 faith (or the simple assent of the mind to a speculative truth), 
 and practical faith (or that cordial reception of it which 
 warms the heart and influences the conduct), the difference is 
 almost infinite. The former, as it respects Christianity, is of 
 very little value, as we see in the generality of Christians, 
 who being wholly immersed in the aff'airs of the world, and 
 giving little or no attention to their Christian principles, are 
 little, if at all, the better for them. Nay, they are the more 
 criminal on this account ; being possessed of so great a treas- 
 ure, and making no proper use of it. The latter only is that 
 faith which the apostle says, works by love, which purities the 
 heart and reforms the life ; and it cannot be formed and kept 
 up in the actual circumstances of life, without great and un- 
 remitted attention. 
 
 A person, therefore, who wishes to be a Christian to any 
 good purpose, must make it his daily practice to read the 
 Scriptures, and other books which tend to interest him in 
 
PRESENT PREVALENCE OF INFIDELITY. 145 
 
 their contents. Much of the time that his necessary busi- 
 ness, whatever it be, allows for reading, lie will with peculiar 
 satisfaction devote to this ; and he will not satisfy himself 
 with saying that, having once read the Scriptures and well 
 enough remembering their general contents, he has no occa- 
 sion to look into them any more. The consequence of the 
 frequent reading of the Scriptures, and books relating to 
 Christianity, will be, that his religion, or something relating 
 to it, will be the subject to which his thoughts will naturally 
 turn, whenever the business of life does not call them an- 
 other way ; and even in the midst of business he will have 
 many moments of pleasing and serious reflection, which will 
 have a happy effect in preserving that equanimity which is 
 so desirable amidst the vicissitudes of this life, preventing 
 undue elation in prosperity, and depression in adversity ; from 
 that sense of the wise and impartial providence of God super- 
 intending all events, and the happy termination to which all 
 things arc tending, which this practice will naturally impress 
 upon his mind. 
 
 If a Christian have any friends, whose views of things are 
 similar to his own, he will naturally resort to them, and they 
 will strengthen each other's faith, hope, and joy, by convers- 
 ing on the subject of religion ; as persons of the same senti- 
 ments and views in politics, inflame their ardor in a common 
 cause by frequent intercourse and conversations. I am even 
 not altogether without hope, that this open rejection of Chris- 
 tianity by such great numbers, and the contempt with which 
 it is treated by them, will operate like persecution of other 
 kinds, and animate the zeal of its rational and steady friends ; 
 and also, that this zeal may lead to methods of extending the 
 knowledge of Christianity and its evidences, to others who 
 are but imperfectly acquainted with them, which may end in 
 the rechristianizing of the world, and that on principles bet- 
 ter founded, and therefore more stable than ever. 
 
 But to effect this desirable end, it is necessary, that Chris- 
 tians make their religion a primary object, and consider every 
 10 
 
146 DUTY OF CHRISTIANS RESPECTING THE 
 
 thing relating to this life as subordinate to it ; as, if there be 
 a future life, of so much more value than this, they reasona- 
 bly ought to do. Let "the children of this world," as our 
 Saviour calls them, give their whole attention, as they do, to 
 the perishable things of it; but let "the children of light," 
 the heirs of immortality, habitually look above and beyond it, 
 to that "treasure in heaven which faileth not," that "inheri- 
 tance which is incorruptible, undefiled, and which fadeth not 
 away," not indeed the object of sense, but of faith, and surely 
 reserved in heaven for us. 
 
 There is no great danger of leading any person by these 
 representations to make his religion too much an object, so 
 as to neglect the proper business of this life ; though, with 
 some persons of a peculiarly melancholy turn of mind, and 
 especially after meeting with misfortunes in life, this has 
 been the case. The constant presence of things seen and 
 temporal, gives them a decided advantage over things unseen, 
 though eternal, especially in these times, in which all monk- 
 ish maxims are justly exploded, and the duties of all intelli- 
 gent Christians connect them with the world and the business 
 of it; so that we cannot have any serious apprehension of this 
 inconvenience, which, however, it is proper to guard against. 
 Indeed, I cannot conceive that any of those whom I call 
 rational Christians, whose religion is free from the gross ab- 
 surdities that have long prevailed in the Christian world, and 
 which have brought it into the state of discredit in which it 
 now is, are in any danger of this extreme ; and these are the 
 only persons by whom I have any expectation that an ad- 
 dress from me will be attended to. 
 
 Lastly, let the rational Christian, who justly disclaims 
 such doctrines as those of original sin, arbitrary predestina- 
 tion, the Trinity, and vicarious satisfaction, as the grossest 
 corruptions of his religion, and the principal cause of its pre- 
 sent rejection, (and which on this account his regard for 
 Christianity requires that he should take every opportunity 
 of exposing,) be equally prepared to meet the too vehement 
 
PRESENT PREVALENCE OF INFIDELITY. 147 
 
 zeal of the defenders of these doctrines (who are at present 
 the great majority of the nominally Christian world), persons 
 who will not scruple to treat him as a deist or atheist ; and 
 also the hatred of the real deists and atheists of the age. 
 For if he be zealous and active in promoting what he deems 
 to be pure Christianity, their sentiments concerning him will 
 not deserve a softer name. However the malignity of both 
 are alike insignificant, considering the great object we have 
 in view, and they are infinitely overbalanced by the solid sat- 
 isfaction which arises from the cordial esteem of a small num- 
 ber of judicious Christian friends, who will approve of our 
 conduct, and join us in it ; to say nothing of the exquisite 
 delight which arises from the consciousness of a steady and 
 undaunted pursuit of what is true and right, the hope we 
 entertain of the approbation of our Maker, and the glorious 
 reward of immortality. 
 
SUPERIOR VALUE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 
 
 So little of religion, properly so called, have men ever de- 
 rived from the light of Nature, and so little are those who re- 
 ject Revelation really influenced by any religious principle, that 
 the true state of the question, in fact, is, whether it he better 
 for man to have the religion that is taught in the Scriptures, 
 or none at all. They who reject revelation may not absolutely, 
 and in words, reject the belief of a God and of a providence ; 
 (though we see in the example of the French philosophers, 
 and many others, that this is generally the case ;) they are not 
 influenced by that belief Nor can we wonder at this, when 
 they certainly have not, in fact, any expectation of a future 
 state, which, as I shall shew, was never taught to any useful 
 purpose but by revelation. Religion implies the belief of the 
 being and providence of God, and such a respect for the will 
 of God as will effectually control a man's natural inclinations, 
 and direct his conduct; restraining him from irregularities to 
 which he is naturally prone, and exciting him to actions to 
 which he is naturally averse. But as men in general are 
 governed either by strong natural appetites, or a vjew to their 
 interest, it cannot be expected that virtue alone, without any 
 hope of future reward or punishment, can have such charms 
 for them, that they will abandon their pleasure, their ease, or 
 their advantage, for the pure love of it. Supposing that men 
 miffht arrive at a knowledge of the will of God with respect 
 to their conduct in life ; they would not feel any sufficient obli- 
 gation to conform to it, without the great sanction of future 
 rewards and punishments. Mere authority, as that of a pa- 
 
SUPERIOR VALUE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 149 
 
 rent, or of a magistrate, is little or nothing without the power 
 of rewarding and punishing. Nothing, therefore, but a firm 
 belief in a future state of retribution can be expected to 
 restrain men from giving into those indulgences to which they 
 have a strong propensity. 
 
 1. With respect to every article of religion, the light of 
 nature is far from being sufficiently clear and distinct, so as to 
 be inferred with certainty by the most intelligent of men. 
 With respect to what is most essential to human happiness, 
 the wisest of men do not appear to have been, in fact, supe- 
 rior to the bulk ; having, in a variety of respects, laid down the 
 most erroneous rules for the conduct of men. Plain as the 
 most important maxims of morality are, there is not one of 
 them, but what the most enlightened not only of the ancient 
 philosophers, but of modern unbelievers, have controverted. 
 What we call conscience, and which we might expect to be a 
 better guide, in this respect, than even reason, is by no means 
 the same uniform principle in all men. It is formed by vari- 
 ous associations of ideas, depending on the circumstances of 
 our education, so that things which absolutely shock some 
 persons, are not felt as at all improper by others. There is, 
 therefore, something wanted superior to the dictates of reason, 
 or natural conscience; and this can only be revealed religion, 
 or the authority of our Maker, which must be obeyed without 
 reasoning. Men will, no doubt, dispute even about the will 
 of God, when it is most clearly revealed, as they do concerning 
 the most express laws that are ever made by men ; but if this 
 be done with respect to the articulate voice of God, it will be 
 done to a much greater extent, and with much more plausibil- 
 ity, to the inarticulate voice of nature, which every person 
 will interpret as he is previously inclined. 
 
 If, when men are hurried on by passion or swayed by 
 interest, they will transgress such positive and acknowledged 
 commands, as thou shalt not commit adultery, thou shalt not 
 steal, &c., as we see that, in fact, they do, it will not, how- 
 ever, be without reluctance and remorse ; and therefore, trans- 
 
150 SUPERIOR VALUE OP REVEALED RELIGION. 
 
 gressions will be less frequent and less flagrant, and repent- 
 ance and amendment may be more reasonably expected to 
 follow. But, where no such positive command is acknowl- 
 edged to exist, and the voice of nature alone is to be con- 
 sulted about the proper conduct of life, most men will mis- 
 take their own inclination for the voice of nature, and con- 
 sequently sin without reluctance or remorse. Of this it would 
 be easy to give instances in the clearest of all cases ; but this 
 would take up too much of our time, and something of this 
 was mentioned in my last discourse. 
 
 2. Still less would men, by the mere light of nature, have 
 ever attained to any satisfactory conclusion with respect to 
 the ultimate design of the Author of nature in the formation 
 of man. I mean the prolongation of his existence beyond 
 the grave. On this most interesting of all questions nature is 
 altogether silent. Judging from appearances, as the brutes die, 
 so does man ; and all his faculties and powers die with him. 
 That at death any thing escapes, unaffected by this catas- 
 trophe, is a mere arbitrary supposition, unsupported by any 
 appearance, or probability of any kind. 
 * * * 
 
 Supposing that it were possible, by the mere light of nature, 
 to arrive at the belief of a future state ; yet judging from 
 present appearances, it could not be the future state announced 
 in the Scriptures, a state in which virtue will find an ample 
 recompence, and vice its just punishment, but only such a 
 life as this and in all other respects resembling the present; 
 which is the belief of the North-American Indians, and most 
 other barbarous nations. If, because we dislike any thing in 
 the present system, we entertain an idea that the incon- 
 venience complained of will be removed in a future state ; 
 where is the evidence that, under the same powers or prin- 
 ciples of nature, whatever they are, things will be ordered in 
 a better manner 1 Is it possible to infer from what we see 
 (and we have nothing else by which to guide our conjectures), 
 that those evils which the Author of nature has thought 
 
SUPERIOR VALUE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 151 
 
 proper, for whatever reason, to introduce or to permit here, 
 will not be continued there also? If we say, that it is not 
 agreeable to justice that good and bad men should be treated 
 as they are here ; where is the evidence, from any present ap- 
 pearances, that the Author of nature intended that they 
 should ever be treated otherwise 1 Left to the light of nature, 
 we could only reason from what we know, and this would lead 
 us to expect that, if there be any life after death, it will be 
 similar to the present. It is only from the express assurance 
 of the Author of nature, communicated by revelation, that 
 we believe the future state will be better than the present, 
 that in it the righteous will be fully rewarded, and the wicked 
 punished. It is evident, therefore, that when we abandon 
 revelation, we give up all religion properly so called, all that 
 can have any salutary influence on the hearts and lives of 
 men. 
 
 3. With respect to men, there is certainly a great advan- 
 tage in precepts and commands, promises and threatenings, 
 being delivered in tcwrds, proceeding as from a real person, 
 it being by this means that instructions are delivered with the 
 greatest distinctness. It may, indeed, be said, and with 
 truth, that nature speaks to men and that nature teaches 
 and nature threatens; but, besides that the information is 
 more indistinctly communicated, it is in a manner less apt to 
 make an impression and command respect. It is, therefore, 
 of great advantage that the attention of men be directed to 
 something beyond mere nature, viz. to the Author and Lord 
 of nature ; and that he be considered not as an allegorical per- 
 sonage, but a real, intelligent Being, capable of communi- 
 cating his will in words, and such signs as men are daily 
 accustomed to, and apt to be impressed by. 
 
 Besides, all men feel an unavoidable propensity to address 
 themselves to the Being on whom they depend ; and without 
 some mode of intercourse with him, they would soon lose 
 sight of him, as a child would of his father, if he never saw 
 him, and had no access to him. Without an idea of God, 
 
152 
 
 SUPERIOR VALUE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 
 
 different from what we could collect from the contemplation 
 of nature, there would be no such thing hs pi'ayer. Indeed, 
 unbelievers in revelation ridicule the idea of prayer as unnat- 
 ural and absurd, though all nations, without exception, have 
 had recourse to it ; which is a clear proof that it is natural, 
 as every thing that is universal must be. 
 
 Authority is best supported by a mixture of affection, but 
 there cannot be any thing of this except towards a being re- 
 sembling other beings which have been the object of our 
 affection, and which have engaged our confidence. And in 
 revelation, but by no means in nature, the Supreme Being 
 appears to us in the familiar character of a parent, — a person 
 with whom we can have communication who may be con- 
 ceived to be always present with us, who encourages us to 
 address ourselves to him, who always hears us, and some- 
 times answers us. By this means God easily becomes the 
 object of real affection and attachment. Here we find a solid 
 foundation for love and fear, which arc the chief motives for 
 men's actions. 
 
 * * * 
 
 4. They who give so decided a preference to the light of 
 nature, the appearances of which are uniform, to that of rev- 
 elation, which supposes an occasional departure from the 
 usual course of nature, betray their ignorance of the nature 
 of man, by whom all uniform appearances are apt to be disre- 
 garded, but who never fail to be struck by what is unusual. 
 Does not every human being see the regular rising and setting 
 of the sun, the periodical returns of summer and winter, seed- 
 time and harvest; but how few ever think of the wisdom or 
 benevolence of these appointments ! They content themselves 
 with observing effects, and directing their conduct by them, 
 without ever reflecting on the cause. But whenever any thing 
 unusual happens, when comets arr; seen, or eclipses of the 
 sun or moon take place, their attention is forcibly arrested ; 
 and after reflecting on the cause of the extraordinary appear- 
 ances, they may be induced to give some attention to those 
 
SUPERIOR VALUE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 153 
 
 that are constant. I shall illustrate this by a case which I 
 have put on a former occasion. 
 
 Let a person unacquainted with clocks, watches, and other 
 machines, be introduced into a room containing many of them, 
 all in regular motion. He sees no maker of these machines, 
 and knows nothing of their internal structure ; and as he 
 sees them all to move with perfect regularity, he may say, on 
 the principles of the atheistical system, that they are auto- 
 mata, or self-moving machines ; aild so long as all these ma- 
 chines continue in regular motion, and he knows nothing of 
 the making of them, or the winding of them up, this theory 
 may appear plausible. 
 
 But let us suppose that, coming into this room again and 
 again, and always attending to the machines, he shall find 
 one of them much out of order, and that at length its motion 
 shall entirely cease ; but that, after continuing in this state 
 some time, he shall again find it in perfect order, moving as 
 regularly as ever. Will he not then conclude that some per- 
 son, whom he has not seen, but probably the maker of the 
 machines, had been in the room in his absence ? The res- 
 toration of motion to the disordered machine would impress 
 his mind with the idea of a maker of them, in a much more 
 forcible mannrr than his observing the regular construction 
 and uniform motion of them. It must convince him of the 
 existence of some person capable of regulating, and, there- 
 fore, probably of making these machines, whether he should 
 ever see this person or not. 
 
 Thus do miracles prove the existence of a God, in a shorter 
 and more satisfactory manner than the observation of the 
 uninterrupted course of nature. If there be a Being who 
 can control the course of nature, there must be one who 
 originally established it ; in whatever difficulty we may still 
 be left with respect to his nature, and the manner of his exis- 
 tence. 
 
 * * # 
 
 5. No less are they mistaken who imagine that the evidences 
 
154 
 
 SUPERIOR VALUE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 
 
 of revealed religion have more of difficulty in them than those 
 of natural religion ; by which we mean the arguments from 
 nature, for the being, perfections, and providence of God. 
 On the contrary, far greater difficulties occur with respect to 
 these, than with respect to the others, and all that can be said 
 is, that great difficulties must give way to greater. Far am I 
 from supposing that the evidence for the being of a God is 
 not demonstrative, since marks of design, with which the 
 world abounds, necessarily imply a designing or intelligent 
 cause. But notwithstanding this, we can never fully satisfy 
 ourselves with respect to the objection of the atheist, that if 
 the universe require a cause, this cause must require another ; 
 and if the author of nature, or the being we call God, exist 
 without a cause, so may the universe itself 
 
 All we can say in answer to this is, that whatever difficulty 
 we may labor under with respect to this subject, which will 
 always be above our comprehension, the actual existence of 
 a visible world, and of marks of design in it, cannot be de- 
 nied, and, therefore, whether we be able to proceed any 
 farther or not, we must acknowledge a designing cause ; 
 otherwise we might say that a house had no architect, or a 
 child no father. If the eye of a man require no designing 
 cause, neither would a telescope, which is an instrument of a 
 similar nature, evidently adapted to answer a similar purpose. 
 And at this supposition every mind would revolt. 
 
 More and greater difficulties occur when we proceed to 
 the consideration of the unity, the omnipresence, the constant 
 agency, and, what is of more consequence still, the benevo- 
 lence of the Supreme Being, on the principles of the light of 
 nature. So forcibly were the minds of men, in the early 
 ages, impressed with a view of the evils which abound in the 
 world, and so inconsistent did they conceive them to be with 
 the designs of a benevolent Author, that they supposed there 
 was an original principle of Evil, independent of that of Good. 
 And they who supposed there was a multiplicity of deities 
 (to which they were led by the extent and variety they ob- 
 
SUPERIOR VALUE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 155 
 
 served in the works of nature), imagined some of them to be 
 of a benevolent, and others of a malevolent disposition. That 
 the Author of nature is one, that he is simply, invariably, 
 and infinitely good, and that all the evils we see and experi- 
 ence are calculated to promote good, are great and sublime 
 truths, which we derive from revelation only ; though, on a 
 strict examination, they appear not to be inconsistent with 
 the appearances in nature. 
 
 On the other hand, the evidences of revelation are level to 
 every capacity. That it is the Author of nature who inter- 
 poses, must be evident from every interruption of the usual 
 course of it; for no other than he who established the laws of 
 nature can control them ; and though there may be some 
 difficulty in distinguishing some preternatural appearances 
 from such as are merely unusual, this cannot be the case with 
 respect to numberless others. If it was a fact that the Israel- 
 ites walked through the Red Sea and the river Jordan ; if all 
 the first-born of the Egyptians, and the first-born only, of man 
 and beast, died in one night, and that announced before- 
 hand ; if an articulate voice was actually heard to pronounce 
 the ten commandments from Mount Sinai, so as to be heard 
 by two millions of people, there could be no doubt of a Divine 
 interposition in any of the cases. And the same may be said 
 of numberless other facts in the Scripture history. If the 
 facts be ascertained, there can be no doubt concerning their 
 cause. 
 
 Now, all facts may be ascertained by sufficient testimony, 
 or that of a competent number of credible witnesses ; that is, 
 of persons who were in circumstances not to be imposed upon 
 themselves, and who had no apparent motive to impose upon 
 others. This is fully equal to the evidence of a man's own 
 senses. Nay, there are many persons who would distrust 
 their own eyes and ears, rather than those of other persons, 
 who, they thought, were better judges than themselves. 
 
 Though single persons may be imposed upon in a variety 
 of ways, or may take it into their heads, for reasons which it 
 
156 
 
 SUPERIOR VALUE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 
 
 is not in the power of any man to investigate, to impose upon 
 others ; this can never be said to be the case with respect to 
 thousands who believe, or attest, things evidently contrary to 
 their interest and previous inclinations. That great numbers 
 of persons, and others in succession to them (all of whom had 
 sufficient opportunity to investigate any particular fact, which 
 required no other evidence than that of the senses, and who 
 were interested in the investigation, their fortunes or their 
 lives depending upon it) should persist in their attestation of 
 it would be a greater miracle, more contrary to what we 
 know of human nature, than any fact contained in the Scrip- 
 ture history. 
 
 As to the evidence of a future state, what are all the argu- 
 ments derived from the light of nature compared to that 
 which is furnished by the gospel, which is therefore justly 
 said to " bring life and immortality to light " 1 There we 
 see a person commissioned by God, teaching the doctrine 
 with the greatest plainness and emphasis, enforcing it by mir- 
 acles, among which was the raising of several persons from a 
 state of doath to life ; and, what was infinitely more, submit- 
 ting to die himself in the most public and indisputable man- 
 ner, and rising to life again at a fixed time. Had mankind 
 in general been asked what evidence would satisfy them, they 
 could not have demanded more. 
 
 Whether, therefore, we consider the precepts of religion, 
 that is, the rules of a virtuous and happy life, the authority 
 requisite to enforce the observance of them, the motives by 
 which they are enforced, or the evidence of their truth, re- 
 vealed religion has unspeakably the advantage of natural ; 
 and therefore so far is the scheme of revelation from being 
 improbable a priori, that it must appear such as a wise and 
 good Being, who was acquainted with human nature, and 
 wished to engage the attention of men, and impress their 
 minds with sentiments of reverence of himself, and respect 
 for such laws as were calculated to promote their greatest 
 happiness, would adopt in preference to any other ; being the 
 
SUPERIOR VALUE OP REVEALED RELIGION, 157 
 
 best adapted to gain his end. It was of the greatest importance 
 to mankind to be made acquainted with those moral princi- 
 ples and rules of conduct on which their happiness depended, 
 and which they would never have discovered of themselves j 
 to have their attention drawn to them in the most forcible 
 manner, and to have the most satisfactory evidence of their 
 truth ; and this is what we find in revelation, and in revela- 
 tion only. It is therefore, as the apostle justly calls it, " the 
 wisdom and the power of God," though objected to and ridi- 
 culed by light and superficial men. 
 
DIVINE MISSION OF MOSES. 
 
 Such a firm persuasion in the whole Jewish nation, cir- 
 cumstanced as they are well known to have been, on the 
 supposition that the events above recited never took place, 
 and that the written history of them is not authentic, would 
 be a miracle of a much more extraordinary nature than any 
 of those that are objected to, and a miracle without any 
 reasonable object ; for what rational end could have been 
 answered by such a supernatural infatuation (for it could 
 not have been any thing less) as should induce a whole nation 
 firmly to believe all the particulars that I have recited, viz. 
 the account of all the plagues of Egypt, their passing through 
 the Red Sea and the river Jordan, the Divine Being speaking 
 to them from Mount Sinai, and this last instance of the mirac- 
 ulous fall of the walls of Jericho, without any human means, 
 and that the books containing the history of these particulars 
 were written and published while the memory of the things re- 
 corded in them was recent ; when, if the account had been 
 fabulous, it must have been exceedingly easy to have exposed it ? 
 
 No nation in the world, not even the most credulous (and 
 the Jews have always been the least so,) could have been im- 
 posed upon in so gross a manner. And this was not in one 
 particular, but in many ; and those on the largest scale, the 
 farthest in the world from resembling tricks of legerdemain, 
 such as may be exhibited before a few persons in a private 
 room. But, for the satisfaction of all mankind in future ages, 
 it was requisite that those miracles, which ushered in the first 
 dispensation of revealed religion, should be so circumstanced 
 
DIVINE MISSION OF MOSES. 159 
 
 with respect both to number and magnitude, as to be out of 
 the reach of all reasonable objection, though not of mere cavil ; 
 and such is actually the case. We may even venture to say, 
 that had the most skeptical person in the world been asked 
 what he himself would have wished to have been done in order 
 to satisfy him that the Author of nature had really interposed 
 in the government of the world, he could not have pitched 
 upon more striking things, as an evidence of it, than the ten 
 plagues of Egypt, the passage of the Red Sea and the river 
 Jordan, the articulate and audible voice from Mount Sinai, 
 pronouncing not a kw words only (for in that the hearing 
 might be deceived), but so many as composed the ten com- 
 mandments, and lastly, the falling of the walls of Jericho ; 
 all of them exhibited in the presence of a whole nation, and 
 some of them even more nations than one. 
 
 In order to satisfy distant ages that such things as these 
 really took place, what more could have been demanded 
 than that the history of them should be committed to writing 
 while the facts were recent ; that solemn customs should 
 be instituted at the very time for the purpose of commemo- 
 ratiug them ; that a nation the least disposed to the religion 
 which all this apparatus was provided to establish, should 
 receive the history as genuine, and reluctantly adopt the 
 religion thus enjoined them ; and that, notwithstanding their 
 many deviations from it, owing to the seductive nature of the 
 rites of other nations they should, by faith in this history, be 
 brought back to the strict observance of it and continue in it 
 to this day, a period of about four thousand years. 
 
 Nothing but a due attention to this remarkable state of 
 things is necessary to ensure the firm belief of the whole, to 
 the most skeptical of mankind. And in due time we cannot 
 doubt but that this due attention will be given to this history, 
 and to that of the propagation of Christianity in conjunction 
 with it; and then all mankind will, of course, become wor- 
 shippers of the God of Abraham, of Isaac, of Jacob, and of 
 Jesus Christ j and this faith cannot but be attended with a 
 
160 DIVINE MISSION OF MOSES. 
 
 great improvement in the moral conduct of men, such as will 
 ensure to them the truest enjoyment of this life, and immortal 
 happiness in the life to come. 
 
 * * * 
 
 Though the history of the deliverance of the Israelites 
 from their state of bondage in Egypt, and their settlement in 
 the land of Canaan, be an extraordinary one, abounding with 
 miraculous events, which require a proportionably clear evi- 
 dence, we have seen that the evidence of the facts is as full 
 and clear as the case, or as any case, can require ; and the 
 object of the whole scheme to which these fevents were an 
 introduction, was of proportional importance. It was nothing 
 less than to impress upon mankind the belief of the existence 
 and providence of the one true God, the purity of his wor- 
 ship, the knowledge of our moral duty in this life, and of 
 our expectations in another. For this great purpose it pleased 
 God to make one nation the medium of all his communica- 
 tions with mankind, and to distinguish them by a particular 
 providence that they might appear in the most conspicuous 
 light to tlie whole world, and attract universal attention. 
 This the nation of the Jews has done to a considerable de- 
 gree in all ages. Originally they were situated in the very 
 centre of all the civilized nations of the world, and as civ- 
 ilization extended, they by one means or another became 
 most wonderfully dispersed through all countries ; and at this 
 day they are almost literally every where the most conspicu- 
 ous, and in the eye of reason and religion, the most respecta- 
 ble nation on the face of the earth. 
 
 It has been by means of prophets of this nation, and espe- 
 cially Jesus Christ, that the world has been recovered, as far as 
 this recovery has taken place, from the deplorable state of su- 
 perstition and idolatry into which it was universally sunk. This 
 nation had originally as much to learn concerning God, a 
 providence, and a future state, as any other, and they had not 
 naturally any better sources of information ; but having been 
 taught of God, they or their disciples are the instructors of 
 
DIVINE MISSION OF MOSES. 161 
 
 all the world ; and the lessons they give us are equally in- 
 structive, whether they themselves have suffered for their dis- 
 obedience or flourished in consequence of their obedience. 
 And the most important and convincing of all the lessons 
 they are destined to give the world, what we have reason to 
 believe will put an end to all infidelity, will be the result of 
 their promised restoration to their present desolated country, 
 from their present miserable, despised, and dispersed condi- 
 tion ; for who but he who alone can see into futurity, could 
 foresee an event so distant and so complicated 1 And as their 
 dispersion and preservation correspond, * * * ^vith such 
 wonderful exactness to ancient prophecies, their is no reason- 
 able cause of doubt but that their restoration and future 
 flourishing state will correspond to the many predictions con- 
 cerning it, with equal exactness. With those who, for want 
 of attention (for it cannot be owing to any thing else), are 
 unbelievers at present, the issue of the whole must rest on 
 this future event, which cannot fail to arrest and most forcibly 
 engage the attention of all mankind. 
 
 U 
 
THE CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 
 
 The very character of Jesus Christ is so exceedingly unlike 
 any other character whatever in the whole history of man- 
 kind; there is something in it so remarkably great and extra- 
 ordinary, especially such an amazing mixture of dignity and 
 condescension ; that we cannot suppose that such men as the 
 Evangelists should have conceived it, or have supported it so 
 uniformly as they have done on a great variety of occasions. 
 The fact demonstrates that they must have had an original 
 to copy after. In this case they must have written from their 
 memories, and not from imagination. 
 
 I would not scruple to appeal to any person, whose moral 
 sentiments have not been perverted, whether he can possibly 
 reconcile the character of Christ, the doctrines which he 
 taught, and his general conduct, with that of an enthusiast 
 or an impostor, and consequently whether his history does 
 not on this account bear internal marks of truth. He taught 
 and laboriously inculcated the precepts of the purest mo- 
 rality. He did not puzzle his hearers with subtle distinc- 
 tions in morals, but insisted chiefly upon great and general 
 principles, as the love of God, the love of mankind, and 
 universal purity of heart, which are calculated to form a 
 complete character, adapted to every station and condition 
 in life ; and he more especially enforced those virtues which 
 are the least ostentatious, but the most essential to true great- 
 ness and excellence of character ; viz. the forgiveness of inju- 
 ries, humility, contentment, and resignation to the will of 
 God. 
 
THE CHARACTER OP CHRIST. 163 
 
 He never consulted his own ease or pleasure, but constantly 
 labored and felt for others, going about doing good to the 
 souls and bodies of men. He spared neither the faults of his 
 friends, nor the vices of his enemies, though the former were 
 ever so dear to him, and the latter ever so powerful and 
 inveterate. He discovered the most astonishing wisdom and 
 presence of mind, whenever ensnaring questions were put to 
 him. He sought no worldly emoluments or honors, but per- 
 sisted in a course of life which rendered him in the highest 
 degree obnoxious to those who were in power ; and when he 
 deemed the great purpose of his useful life to be accomplished, 
 he no longer secreted himself from the malice of his per- 
 secutors, but in a firm belief, and with a peremptory decla- 
 ration, that he should rise to the most distinguished greatness, 
 and that he should raise all his disciples and friends to similar 
 honors in a future life, he submitted, with inimitable calm- 
 ness and composure, to a most cruel and ignominious death. 
 
 If there be any truth in history, all this, and much more 
 than this was unquestionably fact. Now, what is there in 
 human nature, or in the history of mankind, that can lead 
 us to imagine that the man who could act this part should 
 solemnly assert that he was commissioned by God to do it 
 without really having such a commission ? A good man will 
 immediately say, if Divine interpositions be possible in them- 
 selves, and if God has ever spoken by man, Jesus Christ 
 must certainly have been the man ; and an intelligent per- 
 son perceive that the time in which he lived was the most 
 proper time for his appearance. The man whose life and 
 conversation is agreeable to the gospel, and who feels that he 
 enjoys the advantages of his being and condition, to the great- 
 est perfection, in consequence of it, must feel what will be to 
 him the most irresistible evidence, that the gospel proceeds 
 from the Giver of every good and perfect gift. He has the 
 witness in himself, and has peace and joy in believing. 
 * * * 
 
 Let all these circumstances be duly considered, the ob- 
 
164 THE CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 
 
 scure birth and mean occupation of Jesus, in a distant and 
 despised country ; his high pretensions to be the Jewish 
 Messiah, without any assumption of kingly power, univer- 
 sally deemed to be most essential to that character ; his 
 claim to a kingdom, though not of this world, and to the 
 power of raising the dead and judging the world, when he 
 had nothing but the certain prospect of a violent death before 
 him ; his undertaking to overthrow all the religions of the 
 heathen world, firmly attached as the several nations were to 
 them, — religions which had kept their ground, from time im- 
 memorial, notwithstanding a long period now boasted of as the 
 most enlightened of any till the present ; when there had not 
 been from the beginning of the world an example of any 
 nations voluntarily changing their religion ; his holding out to 
 his disciples nothing but persecution in this world and happi- 
 ness in another; his having no secrets; his discovering no 
 anxiety about the evidences of his divine mission, joined with 
 his calm good sense, his exalted piety, his general benevo- 
 lence, and the strong affection he always showed to his 
 friends and followers ; let all these circumstances, I say, be 
 considered, and, without attending to his miracles and his 
 success, it must surely be thought impossible that this man 
 could have been an impostor, and meant to deceive the 
 world. This internal evidence added to external, on which 
 I have already enlarged, viz. from miracles and prophecy ,^ 
 must be abundantly sufficient to satisfy any reasonable and 
 candid inquirer, with respect to the truth of Christianity, and 
 of revealed religion in general. 
 
 * * * 
 
 Thus have I given a sketch of the history of Jesus, from 
 which we may form a just idea of his real character ; and let 
 those who are best acquainted with human nature say, 
 whether it does not bear every mark of true greatness, even ex- 
 ceeding any that ever existed before or since. Jesus appears 
 to have been free from every human weakness, and to have 
 been actuated by every sentnnent that is justly entitled to tlie 
 
THE CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 165 
 
 denomination of great; as being remote from common attain- 
 ments, and arising from the greatest comprehension of mind 
 which is oidy acquired by just and enlarged views of things, 
 respecting alike God and man, this life and another. 
 
 To persons of sufficient knowledge and candid reflection, 
 this consideration affords satisfactory proof of the truth of 
 Christianity. The Evangelists were not men who were capa- 
 ble of devising such a character as this, or of inventing a 
 series of actions and discourses indicating such a character. 
 It is a great unique, of which they could not have formed any 
 conception.* And if such, indeed, was the character of Jesus, 
 the question to the philosophical inquirer is. How could it 
 have been formed ? For so remarkable an effect must have 
 had an adequate cause. The answer is obvious. It could 
 only have arisen from the firmest persuasion, in the mind of 
 Jesus, of a divine mission, and consequently, of a great future 
 reward, which would abundantly overbalance all the sufferings 
 of this life. 
 
 * "Wliat sweetness, what purity in his manners ! What an affecting 
 gracefulness in his delivery ! What sublimity in his maxims ! What 
 profound wisdom in his discourses! What presence of mind, what 
 subtilty, what truth in his replies ! How great the command over his 
 passions ! Where is the man, where the philosopher, who could so 
 live, and so die, without weakness, and without ostentation ? Where 
 could Jesus learn, among his competitors, that pure and sublime mo- 
 rality, of which he only hath given us both precept and example ? 
 Shall we suppose the Evangelic History a mere fiction? Such a sup- 
 position, in fact, only shifts the difficulty without obviating it. It is 
 more inconceivable that a number of persons should agree to write 
 such a history, than that one only should furnish the subject of it. 
 The Jewish authors were incapable of the diction, and strangers to 
 the morality contained in the Gospel, the marks of whose truth are 
 60 striking and inimitable, that the inventor would be a more astonish- 
 ing character than the hero." — Rousseau's Letter to the Archbishop 
 of Paris, 17C3, p. 63. 
 
THE SPREAD OF CHRISTIANITY A PROOF OF 
 ITS TRUTH. 
 
 I WOULD farther observe, that this state of things affords a 
 strong presumptive proof of the truth of Christianity. The 
 heathen religion liad every advantage of antiquity, learning, 
 and power ; and yet could not prevail against the new relig- 
 ion, with the heavy disadvantage of having a crucified Jew 
 for its founder. Christianity had no advantage from power, 
 till by its own evidence only, and in opposition to every kind 
 of power, it had prevailed so much as to make it the interest 
 of the ruling powers to espouse it. 
 
 With respect to the conduct of Divine Providence, I would 
 observe, that the sufferings of Christians, as well as those of 
 Christ himself, though so great and of such long continu- 
 ance, were necessary to the firm establishment of Chris- 
 tianity ; and that this was necessary to the happiness of man- 
 kind in future ages. For, to the confirmation of their faith 
 it was absolutely necessary, that no person, to the end of 
 time, should ever be able to say, that Christianity had estab- 
 lished itself in the world by means of power, of policy, or of 
 learning ; and that its evidences had not been rigorously ex- 
 amined at a time when every means of examination were 
 existing, and also when both its friends aud enemies were 
 sufficiently interested in the examination. 
 
 Now the persecution of Christians, from the very origin of 
 their religion at Jerusalem, in the very midst of its most 
 inveterate enemies, and for more than two centuries after 
 this, through the whole extent of the Roman empire (the 
 
THE SPREAD OP CHRISTIANITY, &C. 167 
 
 power of which over all its subjects was by its constitution 
 perhaps greater than any that had ever existed in the world 
 before, or that has existed, even since) ; a period also that 
 was far from being unfavorable to learning and inquiry, not 
 preventing, but evidently promoting the spread of Christianity ; 
 is the most incontestable proof, that neither arguments, nor 
 force, though both were exerted to the utmost, could prevail 
 against it. On the other hand, the Christians, who had no 
 alternative but abandoning their religion or their lives, would 
 not certainly choose the latter without what appeared to them 
 to be sufficient reason, and such as they had not taken up 
 lightly, and without the most careful examination. Because 
 we do not see that, in any other cases, men deliberately throw 
 away their lives; and especially that they submit to long-con- 
 tinued torture, without cause. 
 
 This was the state of things between the friends and the 
 enemies of Christianity, while the facts were recent, capable 
 of the most easy investigation, and the witnesses were numer- 
 ous. And that they who did inquire with a proper temper of 
 mind were really satisfied with respect to these facts, is evident 
 from their continuing to profess themselves Christians notwith- 
 standing all the discouragements they lay under, and by their 
 daily making converts of others. It is of the greatest importance 
 to observe, that the things to be examined were ^Ihin facts, 
 with respect to which one man's understanding is just as good 
 as that of any other. Whatever learning or genius could do 
 was at first entirely against Christianity, because its origin 
 was wholly with the illiterate ; but at length the learned them- 
 selves, of every class, attached as they were to their respective 
 favorite systems, were induced to abandon them in favor 
 of a religion which, both on account of its tenets and of its 
 founder and preachers, they had at first held in the greatest 
 contempt. 
 
 A man who can say that, in these circumstances, Chris- 
 tianity made its way in the world, as it is known to have 
 done before the reign of Constantine, without its being 
 
168 THE SPREAD OF CHRISTIANITY 
 
 founded on truth, must say that human nature was not the same 
 thing then that it is now. And the man who can seriously 
 assert this, will not be much attended to by other men. He 
 must, in fact, believe infinitely more miracles, and of a more 
 stupendous nature, than the Christian admits, and these both 
 without evidence and without an object. He must be a be- 
 liever in the absolute and proper infatuation of the greater 
 part of the subjects of the Roman empire for the three first 
 centuries : nothing less than this will account for unquestion- 
 able facts, upon his hypothesis. 
 
 I must observe again, and enlarge a little upon the obser- 
 vation, that the things to be examined into by the friends or 
 the enemies of Christianity, were not truths of an abstract or 
 metaphysical nature, with respect to which any man or any 
 number of men may form wrong judgments, and become 
 tenaciously attached to them ; but simply the truth of facts, 
 which it requires nothing more than common sense to judge 
 of; and likewise such an application of common sense, or un- 
 derstanding, as all men are continually exercising, and there- 
 fore with respect to which they are the least liable to make 
 a mistake, and form a wrong judgment. 
 
 What they had to inquire into was simply this ; whether 
 Christ, with whom many of them were personally acquainted, 
 wrought real miracles, whether he rose from the dead, and 
 whether the apostles and others continued to work miracles 
 in support of his divine mission afterwards. With the truth 
 or untruth of these facts, the apostles themselves and all their 
 contemporaries must either have been acquainted, or might 
 easily have satisfied themselves. They could not therefore 
 have been imposed upon themselves with respect to the facts ; 
 nor can it be imagined that the thousands of that generation 
 who suffered, and many of whom died, in the cause of Chris- 
 tianity, could have any motive to impose upon others. We 
 do not indeed think it necessary to trouble ourselves to inves- 
 tigate the causes of the sentiments and conduct of single per- 
 sons, or of a few persons ; because their faculties may be de- 
 
A PROOF OF ITS TRUTH. 169 
 
 ranged, or they may have been subjected to such particular 
 influences as cannot possibly be known, except perhaps to 
 those who have attended them from their infancy, and have 
 been acquainted with their whole history. But this can never 
 be said of so many persons, of all descriptions, as are well 
 known to have embraced Christianity in the very age of the 
 apostles, except by persons whose own minds are deranged, 
 and therefore whose objections it is to no purpose to consider, 
 or reply to. 
 
 But supposing the thousands and tens of thousands who 
 embraced Christianity in the age of the apostles, to have been 
 properly infatuated so as to believe that they actually saw 
 and heard things that had no existence ; the next generation 
 had sufficient leisure and sufficient opportunity to inquire 
 into the facts, and this most extraordinary one, of the infatua- 
 tion of their predecessors, among the rest ; and they were 
 sufficiently interested so to do, when, if they embraced Chris- 
 tianity, they had nothing before them but the fate of preced- 
 ing Christians. Yet we see that the inquiries that were made 
 in the second generation, and all the succeeding ones, after 
 the apostles, continually added to the number of Christians ; 
 who kept uniformly increasing, among the learned and un- 
 learned, the high and the low, the rich and the poor, till, 
 notwithstanding all their hardships, they, or their friends, 
 became the more powerful part of the Roman empire. 
 
 To suppose that Christianity could have propagated itself 
 in this manner, without being founded in truth, is to suppose, 
 as I observed before (and because it cannot be too much 
 attended to, I mention it again) more miracles, and those of a 
 more extraordinary nature, than are believed by Christians; 
 miracles of which no evidence can be given, and for which 
 no reason can be assigned. For it must be supposed that all 
 these innumerable converts to Christianity in the early ages 
 imagined that they had heard and seen what they never had 
 heard or seen ; or that they had inquired into the truth of 
 recent facts, when they had made no inquiry at all, and that 
 
170 THE SPREAD OF CHRISTIANITY, &LC. 
 
 they sacrificed their ease, their liberty, their property, and 
 many of them their lives, for a mere fancy, an illusion of the 
 brain. Their minds must therefore have been under a 
 proper and miraculous infatuation, and for no purpose but 
 to subject them to the most grievous sufferings, and to delude 
 mankind in all future ages. 
 
 Now, between this strange and incredible supposition, and 
 the truth of the gospel history, there is no medium. Ad- 
 mitting the facts which are related by the Evangelists, and 
 the author of the Acts of the Apostles, every thing that has 
 followed to the present times is easy and natural. The con- 
 version of the first Christians, obstinate and reluctant as many 
 of them were, the conversion of others by them, and all the 
 subsequent events, have an adequate cause, so that without 
 supposing any farther miracles, all things have come by a 
 regular progress, each step of which is perfectly intelligible, 
 to the state in which we see them to be at present. But on 
 no other hypothesis can present appearances, what we our- 
 selves now see, be accounted for. On the other supposition 
 (which, if they reflect at all, must be that of all unbelievers) 
 we see the most wonderful change in the history of the world, 
 a revolution in the minds of men, of all nations and all de- 
 scriptions, produced by supernatural delusion ; that is, a great 
 effect without any cause, that a man in his sober senses would 
 think of alleging for it. 
 
RELIGIOUS KNOWLEDGE, — ADDRESSED TO THE YOUTH 
 OF HIS CONGREGATION IN LEEDS. 
 
 It is the earnest wish of my heart, that your minds may 
 be well established in the sound principles of religious knowl- 
 edge ; because I am fully persuaded, that nothing else can 
 be a sufficient foundation of a virtuous and truly respectable 
 conduct in life, or of good hope in death. A mind destitute 
 of knowledge (and, comparatively speaking, no kind of 
 knowledge besides that of religion deserves the name), is 
 like a field on which no culture has been bestowed, which, 
 the richer it is, the ranker weeds it will produce. If nothing 
 good be sown in it, it will be occupied by plants that are use- 
 less or noxious. 
 
 Thus, the mind of man can never be wholly barren. 
 Through our whole lives we are subject to successive im- 
 pressions ; for either new ideas are continually flowing in, 
 or traces of the old ones are marked deeper. If, therefore, 
 you be not acquiring good principles, be assured that you 
 are acquiring bad ones; if you be not forming virtuous habits, 
 you are, how insensibly soever to yourselves, forming vicious 
 ones ; and, instead of becoming those amiable objects in 
 yourselves, and those valuable members of society, which 
 nature and the God of nature intended that you should be, 
 you will be at best useless cumberers of the ground, a dead 
 weight upon the community, receiving support and advantage, 
 but contributing nothing in return ; or you will be the pests 
 of society, growing continually more corrupt yourselves, and 
 contributing to the corruption of others. 
 
172 
 
 RELIGIOUS KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 Finding yourselves, therefore, in such a world as this, in 
 which nothing is at a stand, it behoves you seriously to re- 
 flect upon your situation and prospects. Form then, the gen- 
 erous resolution (and every thing depends upon your resolu- 
 tion) of being at present what you will certainly wish you 
 had been some years hence ; what your best friends now wish 
 you to be ; and what your Maker has intended, fitted, and 
 enabled you to be. 
 
 Above all things, be careful to improve and make use of 
 the reason which God has given you, to be the guide of your 
 lives, to check the e.vtravagance of your passions, and to 
 assist you in acquiring that knowledge, without which your 
 rational powers will be of no advantage to you. If you would 
 distinguish yourselves as men, and attain the true dignity 
 and proper happiness of your natures, it must be by the exer- 
 cise of those faculties which are peculiar to you as men. If 
 you have no higher objects than the gratification of your ani- 
 mal appetites and passions, you rank yourselves with the brute 
 beasts ; but as you will still retain that reflection which they 
 have not, you will never have that unallayed enjoyment of a 
 sensual life which they have. In fact, you are incapable of 
 the happiness of brute animals. Aspire, therefore, to those 
 superior pursuits and gratifications for which you were 
 formed, and which are the prerogative and glory of your 
 natures. 
 
 Let me urge you, my younger hearers, to a more than ordi- 
 nary attention to regularity and propriety of behaviour, be- 
 coming men and Christians, that your conduct may be no 
 disgrace to the rational and liberal sentiments which I trust 
 you have imbibed. Let it be seen, that when God is consid- 
 ered as the proper object of reverence, love, and confidence, 
 as the benevolent Father of all his offspring of mankind, and 
 their righteous and impartial moral Governor, the principle of 
 obedience is the most ingenuous and effectual. Cherish the 
 most unfeigned gratitude to the Father of lights, that your 
 minds are no longer bewildered with the gloom and darkness, 
 
RELIGIOUS KNOWLEDGE. 173 
 
 in which our excellent religion was, for so many ages, involv- 
 ed ; but let this consideration be a motive with you to walk 
 as becomes so glorious a light. If your conduct be such as, 
 instead of recommending your own generous principles, fur- 
 nishes an excuse to others for acquiescing in their prejudices 
 and errors, all the dishonor which is thereby thrown upon 
 God, and the injury which will be done to the pure religion 
 of Jesus Christ, by keeping it longer in a corrupted state at 
 home and preventing its propagation abroad, will be your 
 peculiar guilt, and greatly aggravate your condemnation. 
 
 Value the Scriptures, as a treasury of Divine knowledge, 
 consisting of books which are eminently calculated to inspire 
 you with just sentiments, and prompt you to right conduct; 
 and consider them also as the only proper authority in mat- 
 ters of faith. 
 
 In a thing so interesting to you as the business of religion, 
 affecting the regulation of your conduct here, so as to prepare 
 you for immortal happiness hereafter, respect no human au- 
 thority whatever. Submit to those who are invested with the 
 supreme power in your country, as your lawful civil magis- 
 trates ; but if they would prescribe to you in matters of faith, 
 say, that you have but one Father, even God, and one Mas- 
 ter, even Christ, and stand fast in the liberty with which he 
 has made you free. Respect a parliamentary king, and 
 cheerfully pay all parliamentary taxes ; but have nothing to 
 do with a parliamentary religion, or a parliamentary God. 
 
 Religious rights and religious liberty are things of inesti- 
 mable value. For these have many of our ancestors suffered 
 and died ; and shall we, in the sunshine of prosperity, desert 
 that glorious cause, from which no storms of adversity or per- 
 secution could make them swerve ? Let us consider it as a 
 duty of the first rank with respect to moral obligation, to 
 transmit to our posterity, and provide, as far as we can, for 
 transmitting, unimpaired, to the latest generations, that gen- 
 erous zeal for religion and liberty, which makes the memory 
 of our forefathers so truly illustrious. 
 
174 RELIGIOUS KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 So long as it shall please that God, in whose hand our 
 breath is, and whose are all our ways, to continue me in 
 that relation, in which I think myself happy in standing to 
 you at present, I trust that I shall not fail to endeavour to 
 impress your minds with a just sense of what you owe to 
 God, to your country, and to mankind. Let it be our mutual 
 care to derive the most durable advantage from our present 
 temporary connexion, by growing continually more estab- 
 lished, strengthened, and settled in the habit and practice of 
 all the virtues which become us as men and as Christians ; 
 that we may secure a happy meeting and mutual congratula- 
 tion in the future kingdom of our Lord and Saviour. 
 
CHARACTER OF THE REV. RICHARD PRICE, D. D. 
 
 We are now, my Christian brethren, assembled on the 
 mournful occasion of the decease of a truly excellent man ; 
 one who stood in the endearing relation of pastor to this con- 
 gregation,* but in a much more important relation to his 
 country, and even to the world. If, after this, I may add, as 
 an excuse for those who have made choice of me to addrses 
 you on the occasion, he was one with whom I had been con- 
 nected by an acquaintance of more than thirty years, and an 
 intimate friendship of more than twenty. In consequence of 
 this, I have never failed to occupy his place of preacher to 
 you, on my annual visits to the metropolis ; and if a circum- 
 stance, which adds something to the impression on my own 
 mind, may be mentioned on the occasion, this is the very day 
 on which, if our friend had been alive and well, I should of 
 course have preached for him. Little did I expect, when I 
 set out on my journey, that this would be his Funeral Ser- 
 mon ; for at that time there were hopes of his recovery, and 
 about a month before, there was no more appearance of his 
 approaching dissolution, than there is of that of any of ours at 
 present. For though he was not of a robust constitution, and 
 was drawing toward the usual term of human life, he had of 
 late years recovered a better state of health and spirits than 
 had generally fallen to his share ; so that, judging by appear- 
 ances, he might have lived happily to himself, and usefully to 
 the world, many years longer. May the reflection lead us all 
 to the true wisdom of considering our latter end, that we may 
 hold ourselves in constant readiness for our summons hence ; 
 
 * At Hackney, near London. 
 
176 CHARACTER OF DR. PRICE. 
 
 since, at such an hour as we think not, that summons may 
 come. 
 
 * * * 
 
 The virtues of Dr. Price, I may say, without being charged 
 with extravagant panegyric or flattery, which should be far 
 from this sacred place, as it was remote from his pure and 
 simple mind, will live in the memory not only of the present, 
 but of future generations. For few persons in the private 
 walks of life, in no public office or employment, and wholly 
 remote from courts, were ever more generally known or 
 respected. His labors made him in pretty early life the ben- 
 efactor of mankind. Not only was his object in his more 
 abstruse mathematical studies, the benefit of his countrymen, 
 by reducing to greater certainty, and setting in a clearer light 
 than had ever been done before, the doctrine of Annuities, and 
 many interesting subjects, for which thousands in this coun- 
 try have reason to thank him ; but so ardent was his zeal for 
 the natural rights of men, and so forcibly and effectually did 
 he plead the cause of liberty, civil and religious, that no 
 inconsiderable proportion of the human race acknowledged 
 his writings to have been of eminent use to their attainment 
 of those great blessings; and the most august assembly in the 
 world, by which I wish to be understood the National Assem- 
 bly of France, have justly styled him the Apostle of Liberty. 
 Not that he added much to the clearness of its principles ; 
 but strongly feeling their force, he inspired all his readers 
 with the same ardent love of it and zeal for it, so as to make 
 liberty appear more desirable, and tyranny more detestable ; 
 and in this respect, though dead, he yet speaketh. 
 
 In the writings of Dr. Price, men and citizens may ever 
 see their rights and magistrates their duty ; and so plainly 
 and forcibly are these lessons given, that our children may 
 understand and feel them. That the great end of civil soci- 
 ety and the object of all civil government is the public good ; 
 that every form of government is excellent in proportion as it 
 is adapted to gain this end ; that all persons employed and 
 
CHARACTER OF DR. PRICE. 177 
 
 paid by the public, are the servants of the public, that they 
 are accountable to the public, and of course punishable for 
 their neglect of duty, are now considered as axioms, as indis- 
 putable as any in geometry ; and the writings of Dr. Price 
 have contributed more than those of any other person, I may 
 almost say, living or dead, to make them generally under- 
 stood, and what is more, to their importance being truly felt. 
 It may be considered as a universal truth, that no man can 
 rise to great eminence without having enemies in proportion 
 to it ; and kw men have had more of this honorable appen- 
 dage to real merit than Dr. Price. He long stood the object 
 of reproach and calumny to the interested tools of power, to 
 the prejudiced and to the timid. And on this account some 
 may think it necessary to apologize for his conduct, in the 
 writings to which I now refer, especially as his profession was 
 that of a preacher of the gospel of peace. But I cannot apol- 
 ogize for public virtue and public spirit, in any man. It is 
 universally praiseworthy, and a just subject of encomium. 
 
 Whatever else we be, we are all members of society, and 
 citizens of the world ; and as such, we are bound to consult 
 the public welfare, as far as we have an opportunity to pro- 
 mote it; which was eminently the case of Dr. Price. His 
 character and his writings gave him access to men in, power, 
 and who have influence in public affairs, not only in England, 
 but also in America, and in France, not to mention other 
 countries ; and his wise counsels were not always without 
 effect. But persons in less conspicuous situations are justi- 
 fiable, and more than justifiable, for their endeavours to serve 
 the public, be they more or less attended to ; and in every 
 free, that is, in every equitable and just government, the voice 
 of every man interested in it will be heard and attended to in 
 proportion to his interest. 
 
 These duties respecting the public need not to interfere 
 
 with those of a more private nature. Did our deceased 
 
 friend, notwithstanding his attention to politics, neglect any 
 
 part of his duty as a minister of the gospel, or a member of 
 
 12 
 
178 CHARACTER OF DR. PRICE. 
 
 society in any other respect 1 You know that he was ever 
 exemplary in them all. Was the strain of his pulpit discourses 
 ever factious? Did they tend to make you discontented with 
 government, or inflame your passions against those who had 
 the administration of it ? You know the contrary. The mild 
 but warm benevolence of his own heart he diff"used into yours. 
 It was his business and delight, on all occasions, to inculcate 
 the great duties of piety and resignation to God, and good-will 
 to all men, together with that happy equanimity which pre- 
 pares the mind for all events, prosperous or adverse, public or 
 private. You could not, I am confident, leave this place, 
 after attending his services in it, without feeling yourselves 
 more meek and placid, more disposed to forbearance and for- 
 giveness, than to revenge. 
 
 But from one species of reproach and abuse, to which most 
 declaimers against government are subject, Dr. Price was 
 universally exempted. His bitterest enemies, in their great- 
 est violence, never taxed him with it. I mean his having in- 
 terested views. His patriotism, though warm, was ever of the 
 purest kind, looking to nothing for himself; and when he had 
 the freest access to men in power, never using it for his own 
 emolument, or that of his nearest friends. In this situation 
 he conferred favors, but never received any. So generally 
 was his character in this respect known, that when he gave a 
 great part of his time to the service of his country, in calcula- 
 tions, for judgment and accuracy in which he was the only 
 man particularly l(X)ked up to by those who composed the 
 legislature of his country, no pecuniary reward was ever 
 thought of by him, or for him. He gave his labors in the 
 same disinterested manner to several private societies wha 
 wished to establish funds for the benefit of their posterity, and 
 in return had nothing but the warmest acknowledgments for 
 the most important services. In calculations of this kind the 
 merit of Dr. Price stands unrivalled, and would be alone suf- 
 
CHARACTER OF DR. PRICE. 179 
 
 ficient to transmit his name with the greatest respect to future 
 ages. 
 
 In this disinterested manner did Dr. Price uniformly act, 
 though his circumstances were by no means what the world 
 would call affluent, considering that he lived near the metro- 
 polis, and in the society of the most opulent in it. But his 
 style of life was of the simplest kind, and he was rich, as 
 almost any man may be, by his moderation and economy. 
 From a moderate income he had a very considerable surplus, 
 in the distribution of which he was most judicious and lib- 
 eral. When, in my great intimacy with him, I was some 
 years ago remonstrating against one particular instance of his 
 liberality, he told me he made it a rule to expend one fifth of 
 his income in some form of charity, and only wished to pro- 
 duce the greatest good by it ; but that, had he had children, 
 he would have contented himself with giving a tenth. 
 
 Here, my brethren, is an example worthy of imitation by 
 the most opulent among you, and which, as Dr. Price is now 
 dead, I think it not amiss to hold out to you, and to the 
 world. But, alas ! the greater part of those who are possessed 
 of wealth, instead of enlarging their fortunes and their means 
 of doing good, by diminishing their wants and their expendi- 
 ture, are ever stretching them to the utmost bounds and 
 beyond the bounds of their incomes ; though the evident con- 
 sequences of this conduct, is their own infinite embarrass- 
 ment, and a total incapacity of doing good to others. This, 
 however, is a duty incumbent upon all who have, or who 
 might command, the means of it ; a duty enjoined by the 
 great Being who, for the wisest purposes, viz. for promoting 
 general virtue, for the exercise of patience, humility, and grati- 
 tude in some, and of generosity in others, has appointed that 
 inequality which we see to prevail in the conditions of men 
 on the face of the whole earth. 
 
 Such glorious characters, however, there are in the world, 
 though little known in the bustle and glitter of public life ; 
 
180 CHARACTER OF DR. PRICE. 
 
 persons who spend even more on others, than they do on 
 themselves ; who really consider themselves as merely stew- 
 ards of the bounty of Divine Providence and almoners of the 
 Almighty, entitled only to their portion for their care of the 
 distribution. Such was Mr. Howard, the intimate friend of 
 Dr. Price ; and such are others, whose names it is their wish 
 to remain unknown, but which will be proclaimed at the 
 resurrection of the just, when they who have sowed bounti- 
 fully shall also reap bountifully, and when they who are rich 
 now, but who make no generous or wise use of their riches, 
 will wish that they had been poor. The good deeds of such 
 men, though buried in oblivion now, all live unto God. They 
 are preserved in the book of his remembrance, and in that 
 book the characters are indelible, as the volume is imperish- 
 able. 
 
 Dr. Price's piety, which is the surest foundation of all vir- 
 tue, was no less, though it was less conspicuous, than his be- 
 nevolence. The peculiar fervor of his devotion, ever ex- 
 pressed in the most natural and unaffected manner, you must 
 have constantly observed in the pulpit, and in all his public 
 services of which prayer made apart; and the deep sense that 
 he had of the constant presence and providence of God was 
 always apparent in his conversation on religious subjects. 
 But such marks of strong devotional feelings as he discovered 
 when he was under less constraint, in the more private devo- 
 tions of his family (of which .some of his more familiar reli- 
 gious friends must have been occasionally witnesses), I have 
 seldom seen in any other person ; and as he was too apt to 
 look at the dark side of things, sentiments of the deepest rev- 
 erence, and the most entire submission to the Divine will, 
 were most predominant on such occasions. I can compare 
 the earnest manner in which he always expressed himself at 
 those times, to nothing but what we may conceive to have 
 been that of our Saviour in the garden, when, in prayer to 
 his Almighty Father, he said. Not my will, but thine be done. 
 — No doubt he felt more intensely still in his more private 
 
CHARACTER OF DR. PRICE. 181 
 
 devotions, when, with or without the use of words, he poured 
 out his whole heart to his Father who seeth in secret. It was 
 evident to all his acquaintance, that his devotion was both ' 
 intense and habitual, the idea of God and his providence 
 being never long absent from his mind. No person well ac- 
 quainted with Dr. Price could say, that rational sentiments of 
 Christianity are unfriendly to devotion. 
 
 Perhaps the sentiments of no man's mind were ever more 
 clearly perceived in the natural expression of them, than those 
 of Dr. Price. It was impossible to converse with him, and 
 not apply to him the character which our Saviour gave to 
 Nathaniel, of a man without guile. Such simplicity of man- 
 ners, with such genuine marks of perfect integrity and benev- 
 olence, diffused around him a charm, whiclv the forms of po- 
 liteness can but poorly imitate. Accordingly, his society was 
 coveted by those who were bred in courts, as superior to any 
 thing they found in the most polished circles. 
 
 As a preacher, without any thing that is termed oratory, 
 he never failed to gain universal attention ; and what he de- 
 livered in his plain and artless manner, coming evidently from 
 the heart, made a deeper impression than those discourses 
 which are heard with the loudest bursts of applause. I am 
 confident that all that you who have attended upon his minis- 
 try can wish for in a speaker, is such a delivery as his, which 
 to appearance had nothing in it that was striking, or pecu- 
 liarly excellent, because it was unstudied. 
 * * * 
 
 Notwithstanding Dr. Price's ability, whicl\ however was 
 the least article in his praise, and the confidence which, on 
 that account, he might be supposed to place in his own judg- 
 ment, which no man took more pains to form, he was remark- 
 ably diffident of himself, and in public controversy his natu- 
 rally ingenuous temper led him to express his doubts in the 
 frankest manner ; and though, when he thought his argu- 
 ment well-founded, he made use of pretty strong language, he 
 did not think the worse of his antagonists in a moral respect. 
 
182 CHARACTER OF DR. PRICE. 
 
 The topics on which he engaged in controversy with myself 
 were those on which it is well known that he laid peculiar stress. 
 He thought some of them to be of great importance even in a 
 practical view; and yet my openly differing from him with 
 regard to them, made no change whatever in his respect for 
 me. Nay, if I might judge from appearances, which in him 
 were never deceitful, it increased that respect. Nor, which is 
 another usual effect of public controversy, did he in conse- 
 quence of it become more tenacious of the opinions for which 
 he contended. Judging by the same sure appearances, he 
 became in consequence of it more doubtful, and on many 
 occasions, with his usual ingenuousness, never scrupled to 
 acknowledge it ; though it did not appear that his opinions 
 were materially changed. That this circumstance did not 
 diminish my respect for him, is not to be wondered at. 
 Besides I did not lay the same stress on the points in dispute 
 that he did. In real candor, I question whether Dr. Price 
 ever had a superior. 
 
 The greatest defect in Dr Price arose from an excess of 
 this amiable virtue of candor. He could hardly see a fault 
 in those to whom he was much attached. Of this pleasmg 
 foible I myself was happy to have the advantage. 
 
 Dr. Price's extreme unwillingness to disoblige any person, 
 was the occasion of no small trouble and embarrassment 
 to him. His well known public spirit and benevolence brought 
 upon him many applications for advice and assistance and 
 many requests of personal interviews, which he did not know 
 how to decline. In this case alone did he want firmness of 
 mind. In the cause of truth or public liberty, no man had 
 less concern about what any person thought, or said of him ; 
 but he could not without great pain to himself, do any thing 
 that had the appearance of being unkind, or uncivil. On this 
 principle he sacrificed much of his own ease and satisfaction 
 to that of others. He often complained to me, and I doubt 
 not to others of his friends, of his want of resolution in this 
 
CHARACTER OF DR. PRICE. 183 
 
 respect, and the great loss of time, which he could very ill 
 spare, by this means. 
 
 Humility is a virtue nearly allied to canlor and benevo- 
 lence, and I never knew a person less sensible of his own 
 excellencies, or so little elated by the great celebrity to which 
 he attained (and this was greater than any dissenting min- 
 ister ever acquired before him), as Dr. Price was. 
 
 But with the greatest disposition to please, and to comply 
 with others as far as he innocently could, he never made a 
 sacrifice of his opinions to complaisance, but on all p-oper 
 occasions openly avowed every important principle that he 
 held. Conversing much with the world at large, and of 
 course with many unbelievers, he always appeared a zealous 
 Christian, and with bigots, a rational one ; so that to the 
 latter he was, from very early life, an object of dislike ; and 
 his zeal for what are usually called liberal opinions in reli- 
 gion, was as great as theirs for those of an opposite kind. 
 
CHARACTER OF THE REV. ROBERT ROBINSON. 
 
 He was a wonderful example of a man rising to consider- 
 able eminence by his own exertions. His education was no 
 other than tliat of a grammar school,* and his first serious 
 turn was given to him by the preaching of Mr. Whitefield.t 
 
 * Mr. Robinson was educated under the Rev. Joseph Brett, at Seam- 
 ing in Norfolk, where the late Mr. Norris, [who founded a Divinity 
 Professorsliip at Cambridge,] the present Lord High Chancellor, 
 [Tiiurlow], and most of the gentlemen of that county, received the 
 rudiments of learning. There Mr. Robinson was taught the Latin, 
 Greek, and French languages, and he was a great favorite with his 
 master on account of his " large capacity, uncommon genius, and 
 refined taste," which were the words his master used when speaking of 
 him at twelve years of age. He added, that " he e.xpected great 
 honor from him in future life." This was when Mr. Robinson was 
 intended for the church ; and it does not appear that he was ever en- 
 gaged in business. (P.J Advertisement. He was bound apprentice to 
 " a hair-dresser in Crutched Friars " in 1749; but his master appears to 
 have given up his indentures some time before the expiration of the 
 term. — Dyer's Mem. p. 11. See ibid. pp. 8-11. Brief Mem. pp. 
 xiii. -XV. 
 
 \ See Dyer's Mem. pp. 18-25. In Mon. Repos. VIT. G78, G79, 1 
 mentioned my t 'o short acquaintance with this extraordinary man, and 
 described a curious record in my possesion. It is in a copy of Jen- 
 nings's " Life of Cotton Mather." At the beginning of the book is 
 written Robert Robinson, 1754, prefixed to the verse Ilcb. vi. 12. The 
 
CHARACTER OF ROBERT ROBINSON. 185 
 
 But he gradually devoted himself wholly to the work of the 
 ministry among the Baptists, and in the discharge of the 
 duties of it, especially in his labors among the lower ranks 
 of people, he greatly distinguished himself. What you saw 
 and heard of him here would give you no idea of what 
 he had been. For, the disorder to which he had been more 
 than a year subject, and which, it is said, was brought on 
 by intense, and I may say intemperate application to study, 
 had weakened his mind, as well as his body, and, as is always 
 the case, much more than he was himself aware of; though 
 he still retained a fluency of speech and a command of 
 language, that few can boast. When he was in his prime, 
 he used, without any art, or ostentation of oratory, perfectly 
 to command the attention of his audience; and always speak- 
 ing extempore, he could vary his style and address, accord- 
 ing to his hearers, in a manner that was truly wonderful. 
 His writings discover equal powers of imagination and of judg- 
 ment. His Sermons, preached in the villages near Cam- 
 bridge, [*] are remarkable for their plainness and propriety. 
 But at the time that they were composed he had not acquired 
 all the sentiments that he had before he died. What most 
 of all distinguished Mr. Robinson was his earnest love of 
 truth, and his laborious search after it. Educated in Calvinistic 
 
 account of his birth and parentage, and what he considered as hia 
 nero birth, is thus written by himself at the end of the book : 
 
 " Robertus, Micliaelis Mariaeque Robinson Filius. 
 
 Natus Svvaffliami, Comitatu Norfolciae, 
 
 Saturni die, Sep 27, 1735. 
 
 Renatua Sabbati die, Maii 24, 1742, 
 
 Per prsedicationem poteiiteni Georgii Whitefield. 
 
 Et, gustatis doloribus Renovationis, duos annos menses 
 
 Que septem, absolutioneni plenam gratuitamque 
 
 Per sanguinem pretiosam Jesu Christi 
 Inveni, (Tuesday, Dec. 10, 1755,) cui sit honor 
 Et gloria, in sccula seculorum. Amen." 
 
 [• Republished in this country a few years since.] 
 
186 CHARACTER OF ROBERT ROBINSON. 
 
 principles, he was the greatest part of his life very zealous in 
 the propagation of them. I myself remember hearing him 
 many years ago explaining the Calvinistic doctrine of justifi- 
 cation, to a crowded and very attentive audience in London. 
 Mr. Lindsey's resignation of his living in the Church of 
 England and his writings in defence of Unitarianism, exciting 
 a good deal of attention, Mr. Robinson published a book 
 entitled " A Plea for the Divinity of Christ," one of the 
 most plausible of the treatises on that side of the question, and 
 the only one that Mr. Lindsey thought proper to reply to. 
 For this work Mr. Robinson was very much caressed by the 
 friends of the established Church ; and on this account, I 
 believe it was, that he had the offer of considerable prefer- 
 ment in the Church of England, which, however, with great 
 magnanimity, he rejected.* Notwithstanding his long attach- 
 ment to the doctrine of the Trinity, yet continuing to read 
 and think on the subject, he came at length to change his 
 opinion, and before he died he was one of the most zealous 
 Unitarians. f The subject of the Divine Unity was generally 
 uppermost in his mind, and he urged it not only in season, 
 
 but, as you would observe, even out of season. 
 
 * * * 
 
 Mr. Robinson has long been distinguished as a writer ; and 
 
 * " Handriome proposals were readily made him, but were modestly, 
 though firmly, rejected. On Dr. Ogdon's addressing him, ' Do the 
 Dissenters know tlie worth of the man ? ' Robinson replied, ' The man 
 knows the worth of the Dissenters.' " — Dyer's Mem. pp. 198, 199. 
 
 1 I have tlie happiness to think that this important change in Mr. 
 Robinson's sentiments was in some measure occasioned by my own 
 writings. For in the only letter that I ever received from him (which 
 was in answer to one that I was desired to write, in order to invite 
 him to preach our charity sermon) he says what, without mentioning his 
 name, I have already quoted in the Prifacc to my Letters to Mr. Bum: 
 " I am indebted to you for the little I know of rational, defensible 
 Christianity. But for your friendly aid I fear I should have gone from 
 enthusiasm to Deism ; but a faith founded upon evidence rests on a 
 rock." 
 
CHARACTER OF ROBERT ROBINSON. 187 
 
 his zeal as a Dissenter soon brouglit upon him the peculiar 
 indignation of the friends of the Establishment. Upon every 
 occasion of any thing being brought before Parliament in 
 favor of the Dissenters, his Plan of Lecture?, on the Principles 
 of Nonconformity (which I would take this opportunity of 
 recommending to you) has never failed to be produced by 
 our enemies, as an evidence of our hostile intentions with 
 respect to the established Church. But it is no proof of the 
 excellence of that establishment, that so acute an observer as 
 Mr. Robinson, and who, I believe, had himself been a member 
 of it, should come to think so ill of it. Severe as his cen- 
 sures are, I have no doubt of their being perfectly just ; and 
 in matters of religion, there is certainly no room for complai- 
 sance. Let every thing of this nature be most rigorously ex- 
 amined, and let it stand or fall by its own merit. 
 
 I would particularly recommend to your imitation Mr. Rob- 
 inson's exemplary conduct in the education that he gave to his 
 numerous family, notonly in religion, but in all branches of use- 
 ful knowledge ; by no means neglecting his daughters. To 
 their understandings his good sense taught him to give the same 
 cultivation as to those of his sons, that is, the highest of which 
 they were capable. Getting over a vulgar and debasing pre- 
 judice (that women, being designed for domestic cares, 
 should be taught nothing beyond them), and finding his daugh- 
 ters capable of it, he himself taught them the learned and the 
 modern languages, and he got them instructed by others in 
 mathematics and philosophy. Certainly, the minds of women 
 are capable of the same improvement and the same furniture 
 as those of men ; and it is of importance that, when they 
 have leisure, they should have the same resource in reading^ 
 and the same power of instructing the world by writing, that 
 men have ; and that, if they be mothers, they be capable of 
 assisting in the instruction of their children ; to which they 
 have generally more opportunity to attend than the fathers- 
 
 In all labors proper for his station, and for the public. 
 
18S CHAnACTER OF ROBERT ROBINSON. 
 
 Mr. Robinson was most abundant.* In this let us imitate 
 him. Whatever our respective callings may be, let us, like 
 him, faithfully and assiduously discharge the duties of them. 
 Our Master is now absent, l>ut he will in due time make 
 his appearance. May we so conduct ourselves, as not to be 
 ashamed before him at his coming. Warned, more espe- 
 cially, by the suddenness of the death of Mr. Robinson, and 
 that of many others of which we are continually hearing, 
 let us see that we be always ready ; since at such an hour 
 as we think not, the Son of Man may come. 
 
 * To recommend just notions of civil government, he published, in 
 1782, that Political Catechism which was honored by the public cen- 
 sures of Burke. To serve the cause of justice and humanity, he pre- 
 pared the petition, from Cambridge, against the Slave Trade : one of 
 the earliest presented to the House of Commons ; and in 1788, he 
 preached and published a Sermon, entitled " Slavery inconsistent with 
 the Spirit of Christianity," from Luke, iv. 18. The preacher happily 
 remark.^, that " a proclamation of liberty to captives meets the wishes 
 of both sufl'erers and spectators, and grates only on the ears of a tyrant 
 who makes slaves, and masters who hold them in servitude," 
 
MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 
 
 If we consider the great prize for which we contend, that 
 life and immortality are set before us, we cannot think that 
 we can sacrifice too much to it, though we should be required 
 to abandon life and all the enjoyments of it. We are in real- 
 ity, no Christians except in name, unless Christianity be the 
 primary object with us, and every thing else be a secondary 
 pursuit. And they who think they can give their time, their 
 talents, and their heart to the world, and seldom think of any 
 thing else, and yet imagine they may secure the happiness 
 ofhe&ven after all, will find that they miserably deceive them- 
 selves. This is the reason why our Lord says " It is easier 
 for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich 
 man to enter the kingdom of God," because riches naturally 
 engage much of a man's thoughts, care, and affection, and 
 leave him little time to attend to better things. Indeed, the 
 rich seldom think that there are any better things than riches, 
 even though they never find themselves happy or satisfied 
 with them ; on the contrary a true Christian will take more 
 thought how to spend his wealth properly than to add to it. 
 By this rule, then, let us try ourselves. 
 
 We ought therefore to consider well with ourselves, 
 whether we are determined to maintain the profession and 
 practice of Christianity at all risks. Without this we are no 
 Christians, but merely men of the world, who follow the mul- 
 titude which happens to be what is called Christian ; but who 
 from the same principle would have been pagans and Ma- 
 
190 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 
 
 hommedans. To be Christians indeed, we must be so in 
 principle and from reflection, weighing well the truth and 
 value of the profession, and determined to give up every 
 thing, even life itself, that may be required by it. 
 
 The surest criterion of our advancing in real excellence 
 and perfection of character, is our acquiring a disposition to 
 think less of ourselves and of our own happiness, and more 
 of that of others. 
 
 If the zeal of this apostle, his unwearied labors, his patient 
 suffering, and prudent conduct, could not save him from con- 
 tinual opposition, and even from those who professed the 
 same gospel with liimself, why should we wonder at the 
 like happening at this day, when Christians are much more 
 divided among themselves, and when there are consequently 
 many more occasions of offence. It ought to satisfy every 
 man, as it did the apostle Paul, that he can acquit himself to 
 his own conscience, and to God who knows the heart. What- 
 ever we suffer from friends or enemies, while we act in this 
 manner, we shall be abundantly recompensed at a future 
 day. 
 
 If, therefore, I mean to follow Christ, I must be more 
 especially upon my guard against adopting that mode of faith 
 or practice which it is my interest, or which it is fashionable, 
 for me to adopt; it being a priori, probable, that what "is 
 hio-hly esteemed among men, is abomination in the sight of 
 God." The true Christian must obey God, and not man ; he 
 must not " follow a multitude to do evil," and must be con- 
 tent to " take up his cross," suffer persecution, and follow 
 Christ here, if he would reign \vith him hereafter. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 191 
 
 Let it appear that the principal object of your attention is 
 the proper duty of your profession, and let no taste you may 
 have for the polite arts, as music, painting, or poetry, nor a 
 capacity for the improvements in science, engage you to 
 make them more than an amusement to you, or, at the most, 
 any more than an object of secondary consideration. Let 
 not even the study of speculative theology prevent your ap- 
 plying yourself chiefly to the advancement of virtue among 
 your hearers. Let your conduct demonstrate, that you con- 
 sider one soul reclaimed from vicious habits, or even one per- 
 son's mind confirmed in any good resolution, as a greater 
 acquisition to you, than the detection of any speculative 
 error, the illustration of any known truth, or the discovery of 
 any new ones. 
 
 How many are there who, in the most solemn forms, sub- 
 scribe to articles of faith which they do not believe, when they 
 would not on any account make a false declaration in any 
 other form 1 This conduct, however, is such as no person 
 can justify ; and all that can be said in excuse for it is, that 
 it is doing evil that good may come. 
 
 To me, I cannot help saying, it appears that the present 
 state of Christianity is rather critical, and very much re- 
 quires to be looked into by all its real and sincere friends. 
 Men of good sense and of cultivated minds in other respects, 
 cannot but be aware of many things which are evidently ab- 
 surd in the prevailing tenets of the great part of Christians ; 
 and while no real friend of Christianity has the courage to 
 show them that the things they dislike and object to, do not 
 belong to that religion, it can be no wonder that they conceive 
 a prejudice against the whole scheme, and become secret, if 
 
192 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 
 
 not open and avowed infidels. That this is the case at this 
 day, not with the unthinking and profligate only, but with 
 many persons of reading, of reflection, and of the most irre- 
 proachable conduct in life, is well known. It is also appa- 
 rent, that the number of such persons is daily increasing; 
 and unless some remedy be applied to the growing evil, we 
 shall, in time, be in the condition of our neighbours the Pa- 
 pists, with whom the thinking men, in the church as well as 
 among the laity, are generally infidels, and all the unthink- 
 ing are bigots. 
 
 / It has pleased the Divine Being, for good and obvious rea- 
 sons, not to make the terms of salvation so very determinate, 
 as that a man shall be able to pronounce with absolute cer- 
 tainty concerning the future state of himself or others, while 
 we are in this life. It is evidently the best for us to be never 
 without the influence of hope and fear ; and therefore all 
 that we have authority to say from the Scriptures, is, that 
 when we have a fixed resolution to do our duty, as far as it is 
 known to us, we have a reason to hope ; and that when we 
 either have not that resolution, or when our virtuous purpo- 
 ses are easily overborne by the influence of temptation, we 
 have reason to fear. This is the nearest that any man can 
 judge, even in his own case ; and by this rule let every man 
 examine himself, though not with a view to church com- 
 munion. All that otliers can see or judge is, whether a 
 man's conduct in life be such as is unworthy of their society; 
 that is, in this case, contradictory to his profession as a 
 Christian, and such as would be in danger of corrupting or 
 disgracing them. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 193 
 
 Much as I differ from Mr. Wesley in religious sentiments, 
 I have the highest opinion of his integrity, and I consider his 
 services of more importance than those of many benches of 
 bishops. I doubt not he intends great good, and, in my 
 opinion, he will be the cause, in the hands of Providence, of 
 much more good than he intends or wishes. 
 
 It is true I am an avowed enemy to the Church establish- 
 ment of this country, but by no means to any who belong to 
 it. I write against Calvinism, but have the greatest respect 
 for many Calvinists, and wish to make them exchange their 
 darkness for my light. I am also an enemy to atheism and 
 deism, but not to atheists and deists. I have a particular 
 friendship for many of them, in this country and in other 
 countries, and I write to inform and reclaim them. There 
 is nothing personal in all this. They think as unfavorably 
 of my system as I do of theirs. Let points of difference be 
 freely discussed. Truth will be a gainer by it. But let us 
 respect one another, as we respect truth itself; love all and 
 wish the good of all, without distinction. This is true can- 
 dor, and consistent with the greatest zeal for our particular 
 opinions. 
 
 As the Indian said to the Spanish priest, who would have 
 persuaded him to be baptized in the article of death, threat- 
 ening that if he did not submit to that ceremony, he would 
 certainly go to hell, whither all his ancestors went before 
 him, that " he chose to go to his ancestors, rather than to 
 any place whither the Spaniards went ; " so. Sir, judging 
 of the tree by its fruits, I shall willingly take my chance with 
 pious, virtuous, and candid Unitarians, with such men as 
 Dr. Lardner, Dr. Jebb, &i,c. who brought no railing accusa- 
 13 
 
194 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 
 
 tions against any man (though sentenced by your church 
 "without doubt to perish everlastingly ") rather than with 
 those who scruple no misrepresentation or abuse to promote 
 their cause, though in itself it should be ever so good. Fear- 
 ing God, and respecting his truth, I hope I shall never fear 
 what man may say of me, or do to me ; least of all in another 
 world, where, happily, your power does not extend. 
 
 If any writings can be said to authenticate themselves, by 
 internal marks of their being written by the persons whose 
 name they bear, and at the time to which their contents 
 refer, they are the books of the Scripture. It is not possible 
 for any person of tolerable judgment in such things, to read 
 them with due attention, and not acknowledge this, whatever 
 maybe his opinion of them in other respects. There are, 
 however, in all these books such genuine marks of integrity 
 and piety, as must satisfy any reasonable person that no im- 
 position or deception of any kind (if in their circumstances 
 it had been possible, which it evidently was not) was intended 
 by the writers. They relate nothing but what they knew or 
 believed to be true, and, situated as they were, they could not 
 have been deceived themselves ; so that without external evi- 
 dence (which however is abundant) all persons who feel as 
 they felt with respect to God and man, cannot help receiv- 
 ing their testimony to the most wonderful of the facts they 
 relate without hesitation. Writing from the heart, they wrote 
 to the hearts of all persons whose characters are like their own. 
 
 The doctrine of modern unbelievers, with respect to mor- 
 als, is far from being a confirmation of what was so confi- 
 dently advanced by their predecessors, concerning the clear- 
 ness and sufficiency of the light of nature on that important 
 
MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 195 
 
 subject ; for they are discordant in the extreme, and many of" 
 them such as would have shocked Lord Herbert and Lord 
 Shaftesbury, almost as much as they do Christians ; for, to 
 say nothing of the little account the generality of unbelievers 
 make of the vice of sensual indulgence of any kind, even 
 the most unnatural, the latest writers of this class exclude 
 gratitude from the rank of virtues, and deny the obligation of 
 promises, oaths, and even of the bonds of matrimony, plead- 
 ing for a community of women ; principles which, if acted 
 upon, would soon throw the world into the greatest confu- 
 sion, and reduce men to the condition of brute beasts, and in 
 the end to universal hostility, though they are inconsistently 
 advocates for universal peace. 
 
 The moral uses of the very few positive institutions in the 
 Christian religion, are sufficiently obvious ; but admitting 
 that they were not so, it ought to suffice us that they are 
 enjoined by a competent authority ; and the man who can 
 knowingly transgress any one acknowledged command, 
 though, to his apprehension, ever so unmeaning, is certainly 
 destitute of respect to the authority by which it is enjoined, 
 and of a principle of obedience in general ; which with re- 
 spect to God, is in the highest degree criminal and danger- 
 ous. You do not yourselves always give to a servant, or a 
 child, the reasons of your commands, and yet you justly 
 expect implicit obedience ; and you would consider their 
 peremptory disobedience as deserving of the severest punish- 
 ment, though the thing itself should be ever so trifling. 
 
 Better had it been for you to have believed in three, or 
 three hundred gods, and those of wood and stone, than to 
 believe in the one only living and true God, and, at the same 
 
196 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 
 
 time, live as without him in the world, entirely thoughtless 
 of his being, character, and government, as if you were not 
 accountable to him for your conduct. Infinitely better were 
 it for you to believe whatever the most stupid of mankind 
 have believed concerning God, than disregard his laws, pro- 
 fane his name, or neglect his worship. 
 
 Better were it for you to have believed in a revengeful, im- 
 placable object of worship, than to believe in a God truly mer- 
 ciful and gracious, who freely, and for his goodness' sake 
 only, forgives all the sincerely penitent, and has sent his Son 
 to live and die in order to bring men to repentance, and, 
 at the same time, not to be solicitous to become the proper 
 objects of mercy, or not to imitate such an amiable pattern 
 and be merciful as your Father who is in heaven is merciful ; 
 freely, and without any satisfaction, forgiving, as you your- 
 selves hope to be forgiven. In short, better were it for you 
 to believe all the absurdities of the Church of Rome than not 
 to add purity of heart and life to purity of doctrine and wor- 
 ship. 
 
 Think not, however, my brethren, that the most fervent 
 zeal for what are apprehended to be the genuine doctrines 
 of the gospel, is at all inconsistent with true Christian charity ; 
 which always judges of particular persons according to the 
 advantages they have enjoyed, and of the final state of men 
 by their sincerity only. And, for my own part, I have no 
 doubt but that, though the Church of Rome be the proper 
 Antichrist of the apostles, not only innumerable zealous papists 
 but even some popes themselves, and since the time of the 
 Reformation, will sit down with Luther, with Calvin and with 
 Socinus, in the kingdom of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. 
 Known unto God alone are the hearts of men ; and the man 
 who honestly pursues truth, and who acts according to the 
 best lights that God gives him an opportunity of acquiring, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 197 
 
 will be he whom the God of truth and uprightness will approve ; 
 and none will suffer a greater or more just condemnation, 
 than those who hold the truth in unrighteousness. 
 
 Much rather would I be in the case of many worthy persons 
 in the Church of England, or the Church of Rome, who, at 
 the same time that they are fully sensible of the corruptions 
 and errors of the system in which they are entangled, are not 
 able to break their chains, than, from a spirit, the reverse of 
 that of the gospel, make an improper use of my own liberty 
 by insulting them. Many, very many, it cannot be doubted, 
 would have the courage to die at a stake, in times of serious 
 persecution, who in such times as ours, have not the mental 
 fortitude to act the part of a Robinson, a Jebb, an Evanson, 
 or especially a Lindsey. No person educated a Dissenter 
 can pretend to such merit as this, because none of us have 
 been in their circumstances; and I hope there may be great 
 merit in human characters far short of theirs. 
 
 I hope I shall always consider speculation as subservient to 
 practice. The most exact knowledge of truth, and the great- 
 est zeal for it, will avail nothing without the practice of those 
 virtues which the most uninstructed of mankind perfectly 
 understand. Nay, the more knowledge we have of the Chris- 
 tian religion, of the general plan and object of it, the more 
 inexcusable shall we be, if we do not, in the first place, take 
 care to impress our hearts with that love of God, and that 
 unreserved devotedness to his will, which our Saviour calls 
 the first and greatest of all commandments, and also with that 
 disinterested good-will to our fellow-creatures, which he calls 
 the second great commandment, and like unto it. 
 
 He was himself equally exemplary] with respect to them 
 both ; and it is in vain for us to pretend to be Christians if 
 we do not study to resemble him (whom alone we are to 
 
198 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 
 
 acknowledge in the character of Lord and Master) in the 
 disposition of our minds, and in the conduct of our lives. 
 
 A principle of religion will ever put a man upon a va- 
 riety of active and vigorous pursuits. No truly pious and 
 good man can be an idle man. He will fully employ all his 
 power of doing good ; he will not keep his talent hid in a 
 napkin ; and, far from complaining that time hangs heavy on 
 his hands, he will rather complain that he has not time 
 enough for the execution of half his benevolent purposes. 
 
 In this Christian country, the Christianity of the greater 
 number is only a secondary consideration with them. The 
 great objects with the bulk of mankind are pleasure, profit, 
 or honor. Religion, by which I mean a regard to God 
 and a future life, is so little thought of or attended to by 
 them, that it is no sensible check to their pursuits, and en- 
 forces no moderation in their gratifications. Consequently, 
 a man who thinks, who feels, and who acts as really becomes 
 a Christian, who sets God always before him, whose views are 
 primarily directed to a future life, and who habitually consid- 
 ers himself as a pilgrim and stranger here below, is a char- 
 acter of which they have no conception. Such views, and a 
 conduct governed by them, they cannot enter into. To them, 
 therefore, it must appear either folly or hypocrisy, and of 
 course will be treated by them with contempt or hatred. 
 Their being nominally Christians themselves will not make 
 them look with more respect upon those who are truly and 
 practically so. 
 
' MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 199 
 
 The principles and prospects of Christianity are, in them- 
 selves, so great and so far overbalance all the things of the 
 present life, that they only require to be sufficiently attended to 
 to make any person do or bear any thing for their sake. 
 What hardships will not men undergo, and what risk, even 
 of life, will they not run, in order to obtain a great estate and 
 much more a crown, in this world 1 In such a case as this, 
 the mere pain of dying would not be regarded by them, if 
 they were sure that they should not actually die, but that, 
 after this suffering, they should certainly gain their purpose. 
 This we see in history, and in common life, continually. 
 There can be no doubt, therefore, but that if the same per- 
 sons had the same firm faith in the future glorious rewards 
 of Christianity that they have with respect to the things of 
 this life, it would enable them to do and to suffer as much 
 in order to obtain them. 
 
 It is only a deficiency of faith that makes persons shrink 
 from persecution and death in the cause of Christianity. 
 Because, in reality, all the pains of this transitory life are 
 nothing in comparison of that eternal weight of glory which 
 awaits those who have faith and patience unto death, with 
 respect to another. 
 
 As we must not make use of violence or abuse ourselves, 
 so we should take it patiently when it is offered by others. 
 It is generally a proof that our adversaries have nothing 
 better to offer, and therefore is a presumption that we have 
 truth on our side ; and surely the sense of this may well 
 enable us to bear up under any insult to which we may be 
 exposed. The apostles rejoiced that they were counted wor- 
 thy to suffer shame in the cause of Christ ; and so shall we, 
 if we have their temper, and the same firm persuasion that 
 the cause in which we engage is a good one, and, conse- 
 quently, that in proper time it will appear to be so ; when 
 
200 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 
 
 the insult and reproach that have been thrown upon us all 
 will recoil upon those who had recourse to them. 
 
 To an attentive reader there needs no other evidence of 
 the authenticity of the books of Moses than the manner in 
 which they are written ; especially his most earnest and affec- 
 tionate address to the people before his death, contained in the 
 book of Deuteronomy, in which he constantly appeals to the 
 people with respect to what themselves had seen and heard, 
 and makes the most natural observations upon it. I should 
 think it barely possible for any person to read only that book 
 through with attention, and remain an unbeliever in the great 
 events alluded to in it, and related more at length in the pre- 
 ceding books. There is nowhere extant, since the art of 
 writing was known, and since the art has been most im- 
 proved, a mode of address more expressive of genuine and 
 excellent sentiments, than what we find in this, the oldest of 
 all writers. 
 
 That such men as Jesus and the apostles should either form 
 such a scheme as that of the regeneration of the world (for 
 Christianity pretends to nothing less), when it required ages 
 to effect it, or should finally succeed in it notwithstanding all 
 the obstacles that lay in their way, is something more extraor- 
 dinary, more out of the course of nature, and therefore more 
 properly miraculous, than any thing recorded in the gospels, 
 and consequently, less credible. 
 
 Nothing can be more sublime in itself, or tend more to 
 elevate the mind that contemplates it, than the idea of one 
 great Being, one all-comprehensive Mind, equal to the whole 
 
MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 301 
 
 work of creation and providence. By the utmost efforts of 
 our minds, we cannot attain to more than a very imperfect 
 idea of such a Being as this ; but the very attempt to con- 
 template it, fills the mind with the deepest reverence and the 
 most joyful confidence, and likewise tends to engage our 
 obedience to his will ; also in the habitual endeavour to re- 
 semble the great object of our worship, we shall study to 
 purify ourselves, even as he is pure. 
 
 It seems to be the intention of Divine Providence, that 
 every thing should be brought to perfection by degrees. If 
 we have any faith in history and prophecy, the last age of 
 the world is to be infinitely preferable to any thing that we 
 have yet experienced ; and certainly the present state of things 
 is preferable to any that is past. By means of Christianity 
 chiefly, the great Governor of the world is gradually bringing 
 on a state of universal peace and happiness, which must, as 
 I have observed, imply the abolition of slavery, as well as of 
 every other evil. But God works by instruments ; and his 
 instruments in things that respect mankind, are chiefly men. 
 
 We are all sensible how capable the condition of men is of 
 improvement ; and yet even among those who are themselves 
 enlightened and well-intentioned, how few are there who are 
 sufficiently active, so that when they see an evil, they will 
 seriously use their endeavours to remedy it ; and when they 
 see any great good to be attained, will excite themselves to 
 attain it ! Wealth is a much easier sacrifice than labor, 
 and yet how little of this is well applied ! What immense 
 sums are daily squandered away on frivolous and unworthy 
 objects, to speak in the most favorable manner, and how 
 little of it (and much of that little with grudging, or with 
 
202 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 
 
 some sinister view which takes much from the merit of the 
 action) is applied to honorable and public uses! so few there 
 are who attend to the advice of the apostle, exhorting every 
 person to mind not his own things only, but every man also 
 the things of others. 
 
 Better, infinitely better, were it to die rich in good works 
 and thus make the world your heirs, than give wealth to indi- 
 viduals, for whose conduct and liberality you cannot answer, 
 and whose independence on personal exertion may do them 
 more harm than good. It is, no doubt, the duty of every man 
 to provide for his own, and especially his children and nearest 
 relations ; but wisdom, and even true affection, will set bounds 
 to that provision, and leave them a sufficient motive for indus- 
 try and economy. Every man, however attached to his own 
 offspring, or near relations, has a clear right to consider him- 
 self as a member of the community at large ; and it is even 
 incumbent upon him to set his successors an example of that 
 generosity and public spirit, in which, if he be a wise and 
 liberal man himself, he must wish that they would follow his 
 steps. 
 
 It is well known that there are states of mind, in which no 
 attention will be given to any thing that is offensive to it. A 
 philosopher of great eminence, having advanced an opinion 
 concerning something that might be determined by a micro- 
 scopical observation, refused to look through a microscope 
 that was brought to him with the object ready prepared, 
 when he was told that the inspection would refute his hypoth- 
 esis. And certainly vicious propensities lay a stronger bias 
 on the mind, than any speculative opinions whatever. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 203 
 
 It is evident from every thing that Jesus said on the subject 
 of a future state, that he did not infer the doctrine by any kind 
 of argumentation whatever. He did not reason like Plato, but 
 taught it as one having authority from God so to do. He 
 never advanced any thing concerning the natural reasona- 
 bleness or probability of the thing ; whereas an impostor 
 would have endeavoured to make his new doctrine appear 
 as plausible as he could, and, by every mode of address to 
 recommend it to his hearers. But in Jesus we see no act of 
 this kind. What he received from the Father, he delivered 
 unto men, without being at all solicitous about the manner 
 in which they received it. 
 
 When we meet with such ideas as these, of the character 
 and disposition of the Hebrews, not only in the book of 
 Psalms, but also through the Old Testament, we must see 
 that all the objections to it by modern unbelievers, from the 
 history of the extermination of the Canaanites and a few other 
 circumstances, must be mere cavils. The minds of the pious 
 Hebrews, who could not but be well acquainted with them 
 all, and, being nearer to the transactions, must have seen them 
 in a truer light than we can do, were, notwithstanding, 
 impressed with the most exalted ideas of the justice and 
 mercy of God, and the maxims of his moral government. 
 The destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah by fire from heaven, 
 and of the Canaanites by the sword of Israel, gave them no 
 other ideas than that of his abhorrence of vice and his love 
 of virtue and goodness. They were in consequence filled 
 with sentiments of the purest love and reverence, and from 
 their admiration and imitation of his conduct were led to 
 every thing that was amiable and excellent in their own. 
 Compared with this, what was the character of the gods that 
 were worshipped by nations of equal antiquity with the He- 
 brews? many of them were of the most flagitious character. 
 
204 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 
 
 and believed to be guilty of most flagitious actions. The 
 greatest of them were beings to whom human sacrifices, 
 and the grossest abominations, were most pleasing. 
 
 Some persons have objected to the evidences of Christi- 
 anity, but certainly without sufficient reason, the differences 
 of opinion among Christians ; since the very same objection 
 may be made to natural religion, and indeed to every thing 
 that has ever been imagined of so much importance as to 
 engage much of the attention of mankind ; the consequence 
 of which has always been different conceptions concern- 
 ing it. Were not the disciples of Socrates, Aristotle, and 
 Plato divided among themselves ? Are there not as many 
 sects among the Mohammedans as among the Christians ? 
 And are there not almost as many different opinions among 
 the Papists as among the Protestants, notwithstanding they 
 profess to be possessed of an infallible judge in all controver- 
 sies of faith ? Do not even our ablest lawyers give different 
 opinions concerning the sense of acts of parliament, which 
 were intended to convey the most determinate meaning so as 
 to obviate all cavils? Nay, have we not equal reasou to ex- 
 pect that unbelievers should agree in the same system of 
 unbelief? If they say to us, agree first among yourselves, 
 and tell us what Christianity is, and we will tell you what we 
 have to object to it ; we have a right to reply, — Do you agree 
 first with respect to what you suppose to be wrong in it, tell 
 us what you object to, and we will then consider of the proper 
 answer. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 205 
 
 Extract from the Preface to the History of Electricity. 
 
 A philosopher ought to be somerthing greater and better 
 than another man. The contemplation of the works of God 
 should give a sublimity to his virtue, should expand his be- 
 nevolence, extinguish every thing mean, base, and selfish in 
 his nature, give a dignity to all his sentiments, and teach him 
 to aspire to the moral perfections of the great Author of all 
 things. What great and exalted bieings would philosophers 
 be, would they but let the object about which they are con- 
 versant, have their proper moral effect upon their minds ! A 
 life spent in contemplation of the productions of divine power, 
 wisdom, and goodness, would be a life of devotion. The 
 more we see of the wonderful structure of the world, and the 
 laws of nature, the more clearly do we comprehend their ad- 
 mirable uses, to make all the percipient creation happy ; a 
 sentiment which cannot but fill the heart with unbounded 
 love, gratitude, and joy. 
 
 Even every thing painful and disagreeable in the world 
 appears to be provided, as a remedy of some other greater 
 inconvenience, or a necessary means of a much greater hap- 
 piness ; so that from this elevated point of view, he sees all 
 temporary evils and inconveniences to vanish, in the glorious 
 prospect of thd great good to which they are subservient. 
 Hence, he is able to venerate and rejoice in God, not only in 
 the bright sunshine, but also in the darkest shades of nature, 
 whereas, vulgar minds are apt to be disconcerted with the 
 appearance of evil. 
 
 Nor is the cultivation of piety useful to us only as men, it 
 is even useful to us as philosophers ; and as the true philoso- 
 phy tends to promote piety, so a generous and manly piety is 
 reciprocally subservient to the purposes of philosophy ; and 
 this both in a direct and indirect manner. While we keep 
 in view the great final cause of all the parts and laws of 
 nature, we have some clue by which to trace the efficient 
 
206 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 
 
 cause. This is most of all obvious in that part of philosophy 
 which respects the animal creation. As the great and excel- 
 lent Dr. Hartley observes, " Since this world is a system of 
 benevolence, and consequently its Author the object of un- 
 bounded love and adoration, benevolence and piety are our 
 only true guides in our inquiries into it ; the only keys that 
 will unlock the mysteries of nature, and clues which lead 
 through her labyrinths. Of this all branches of natural his- 
 tory and natural philosophy afford abundant instances." 
 
 In all these inquiries, let the inquirer take it for granted 
 previously, that every thing is right, and the best that can be, 
 rceteris mancntibus ; that is, let him with a pious confidence 
 seek for benevolent purposes, and he will be always directed 
 to the right road ; and after a due continuance in it, attain to 
 some new and valuable truth : whereas every other principle 
 and motive of examination, being foreign to the great plan on 
 which the universe is constructed, must lead into endless 
 mazes, errors, and perplexities. 
 
 Extract from the Preface to Dr. Priestley's latest 
 Publication. 
 
 As an old man, and one whose increasing infirmities ad- 
 monish him that he cannot be far from that bourn from 
 which there is no return, I hope I shall be excused if I take 
 this opportunity of saying that, in these circumstances, the 
 advantage arising from a firm belief in revelation, and con- 
 sequently in a future state, is inexpressible ; and by persons 
 wholly immersed in the business of this life, and fascinated 
 with its vain pursuits and fleeting enjbyments, cannot be con- 
 ceived, and will not be believed. 
 
 The nearer I am to death, the nearer I am continually 
 thinking I am to the great scenes that will open to me after 
 
MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 207" 
 
 it; and, to my apprehension, immediately after it: when I 
 shall receive from that Jesus, whose divine mission it has 
 been one principal object with me to defend, and by whose 
 precepts, I hope I may say, it has been my habitual endeav- 
 our to regulate all my conduct (how imperfect soever has 
 been my success), whatever new station I shall be thought 
 qualified for in the renovated world, and which, I hope, will 
 not be less active, useful, and happy, than that which has 
 been my lot in this. * 
 
 There, if I have this happiness, I shall meet all my pious 
 friends and benefactors, whose characters and virtues I take 
 pleasure in contemplating ; and it has been my happiness to 
 have had among those whom I call my friends, some of the 
 first and fairest of human characters. Their good opinion 
 and encouragement has always been more than a compensa- 
 tion for all the obloquy, and some more serious evils, to which 
 I have occasionally been exposed. These, however, I now 
 look back upon without any resentment with respect to men, 
 and with gratitude to the Sovereign Disposer of all things, for 
 the salutary discipline of which they have been a part. With- 
 out such discipline as this, though consisting of many things 
 exceedingly unpleasant and distressing at the time, what 
 would any man be? The best of us would be nothing more 
 than spoiled children, unhappy in ourselves and insufferable 
 to others. 
 
 I have no idea of any greater happiness than such society 
 as I have had, and such employments and pursuits as I have 
 been occupied in here. Then, in particular, I shall hope to 
 resume my investigation of the great system of which I am 
 a part, with more advantage than I can at present ; and, see- 
 ing more of the Creator in his works, feel such an increase 
 of admiration and devotion, as our imperfect knowledge does 
 not admit of at present. There, all the evils, natural and 
 moral, that are incident to the present state, having answered 
 the excellent purpose of discipline, and of forming the mind 
 to true excellence, will be done away. 
 
im^-