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 PRACTICAL SERMOJVS, 
 
 EXTRACTED FROM THE CHRISTIAN ADVOCATE, 
 
 WITH THE CONSENT OF THE AUTHOR, 
 
 ASH BEL GREEN, D. D. 
 
 For Sale by John C. Clark, JS'o. (>0, Dock Street, Philadelphia. 
 
NOTICE. 
 
 With the consent of the author, the printer of the Chris- 
 tian Advocate struck off a few copies of the following 
 Sermons from the types as they stood; but on a paper 
 superior to that of the Magazine. These he now offers to 
 the public in a pamphlet form. They admit of being bound 
 into a small volume; but this is left to the option of every 
 purchaser. Probably some who already have them as they 
 are scattered through the whole of the last volume of the 
 Advocate, will wish to possess them in a connected form. 
 
PKACTICAL. SERMONS. 
 
 A UTEVr VSAR'S BHILJSION. 
 
 THE BELIEVER WAITING FOR HIS CHANGE. 
 
 JoB,xiv. 14, latter part.— "All the days of my appointed time will I wait till iny 
 
 change come." 
 
 A New Year's day is commonly regarded as a season appropriated 
 to joy and festivity. Whence, my brethren, is this idea derived? and 
 what good reason can be assigned for its indulgence? Do we in- 
 tend by our rejoicing to express our grateful sense of the Divine 
 goodness, by which we have been preserved through another year? 
 This, indeed, is both rational and pious; and the pleasure wliich arises 
 from such a source ought not to be suppressed, but encouraged and 
 cherished. Considering however the general indications of the event, 
 they seem plainly to direct us to serious, rather than to light and airy 
 contemplations. The pleasure which has just been admitted to be pro- 
 per, though real and exquisite, is of the serious kind; and surely nothing 
 can be more serious than to be reminded that our lives are fast hasten- 
 ing to a close, and that we are speedily to render up our account for 
 every deed done in the body, — which is the most natural train of thought 
 that the occurrence of a new year can suggest to a considerate and pious 
 mind. Hence it happens, that although the season is usually devoted 
 to unthinking levity, by those who wish to escape from all serious 
 thought, it is impossible to say any thing of a religious kind that shall 
 be appropriate to it, without leading to those meditations which are apt 
 to be esteemed gloomy. I say for myself, brethren, that I have never 
 been a])le to frame a new year's discourse, which would not serve, witli 
 very few modifications, for a funeral sermon; and the reason is, that the 
 flight of time, the shortness and uncertainty of life, and the importance 
 of our being habitually prepared to stand before our final Judge, are 
 equally suggested by both these occasions. 
 
 Searching for a topic which might give some variety to the strain in 
 which I have heretofore addressed you, my attention has been drawn 
 to the text; which, after all, can vary it but little. It was originally ut- 
 tered by Job, in a meditation he indulged and to which he was led by 
 his afflictions, relative to the vanity of man, or the shortness and sor- 
 rows of human life. The words themselves are expressive of a pious 
 resolution, patiently to wait till God should please to put an end to all 
 his sufferings by the stroke of death: or, perhaps, we may say more ge- 
 nerally that they announce a determination to leave quietly to God's dis- 
 posal all the events of life and death; only wailing on him for the know- 
 ledge of his will, and for grace and strength to do or suffer it, till the final 
 A 
 
2 TJie Believer waiting for his Change. 
 
 change contemplated, should terminate the sufferer's Aveary pilgrimage. 
 Considering the expression, as I propose to do, in a detached and 
 general view, we may, I think, without doing violence to its natural 
 import, consider it us authorizing the following positions — 
 
 I. Thcie is a purpose, unspeakably important, for which each of us 
 was sent into this world: 
 
 II. The period allowed to each of us, for the execution of this pur- 
 pose, is fixed and determined by God: 
 
 III. It is our duty piously and patiently to wait, till this period be 
 accomplished: 
 
 IV'. When it is terminated, we shall experience a change in the 
 highest degree important and decisive. 
 
 After l)riefly discussing each of these points, a short application 
 shall conclude the discourse. 
 
 First, then, there is a purpose, unspeakably important, for which 
 each of us was sent into this world. Is not this a truth, which by plain 
 implication is taught in the text? Does not an appointed time, waiting 
 for the completion of it, and looking for a change, imply that there is 
 a design to be answered by our present situation, as well as by that 
 which is future? Was this space assigned for no purpose? Is it to be 
 a period of mere idle and useless existence? or is it to be filled up at 
 the pleasure of every individual, without any responsibility for his con- 
 duct? Certainly not — To suppose this, would be to impeach the wis- 
 dom and moral equity of the Creator. The intimation is strong in 
 the text, and it is abundantly confirmed by the unequivocal decisions 
 both of reason and Scripture, that the present is a probatory state; a 
 state in which preparation is to be made, and a character to be formed 
 for the eternal A\orld. All that we see of man is a riddle, unless he is 
 to exist beyond the grave; and unless his present dispositions and ac- 
 tions are to have an influence there. The condition of man at present 
 is marked with the greatest inequalities, and apparent violations of 
 equity. The wicked are often prosperous and successful, and the vir- 
 tuous are frequently disappointed and overwhelmed with distress. How 
 strikingly was this exemplified in the case of the holy man who uttered 
 our text? It seems neces^^ary, then, in order to vindicate the moral 
 government of the Deity, that there should be a state in which these 
 irregularities shall be equitably adjusted; in which vice shall be 
 punished, and virtue and piety rewarded. 
 
 Man, moreover, is endued with faculties which aim at objects that, 
 in the present life, he never attains. With powers capable of endless 
 improvement, he dies almost as soon as that improvement is begun. 
 If his Creator be, as we cannot but conclude that he is, both wise and 
 good, it is altogether incredible that a creature should be formed by 
 him for uniform disappointment; should be made to possess powers 
 which are never matured, but invariably blasted in the bud. These con- 
 siderations led even the heathen philosophers, strongly to hope for and 
 expect a life to come; a life for which the present was to be regarded 
 only as a period of preparatory discipline, a state of infancy and tutelage. 
 Divine revelation establishes this deduction of reason, as an unques- 
 tionable fact. Its whole import is, that there is a future state of hap- 
 piness and misery; that this future state will be determined by our 
 present conduct; and to teach and persuade us to shun the evil, and 
 to choose the good. The unequivocal and abundant teaching of the 
 holy oracles is — "Say ye to the righteous that it shall be well with him; 
 for they shall cat ihe fruit of their doings. Wo unto the wicked! it 
 
The Believer waiting for his Change. 3 
 
 shall be ill with him, for the reward of his hands shall be given him — 
 Be not deceived, God is not mocked, whatsoever a man soweth that 
 shall he also reap — P'or we must all appear before the judgment-seat 
 of Christ, that every one may receive the things done in his body, ac- 
 cording to that he hath done, whether it be good or bad — and the 
 wicked shall go away into everlasting punishment, but the righteous 
 into life eternal." It appears, then, that the purpose for which we 
 were sent into this world is, to prepare for another; that our condition 
 hereafter, fwhich will be a condition either of infinite happiness or in- 
 finite misery,) will entirely depend on the temper which we have here 
 possessed, and the part which we have here acted. How unspeakably 
 important does our present character and conduct appear in the light 
 of these solemn truths! Consequences — eternal in their duration and 
 boundless in their magnitude — follow inevitably from the complexion 
 of that moral character of heart and life which we here possess. 
 Thoughtless and inconsiderate man! awake and think of thy situation! 
 An endless existence of unutterable joy or wo, is pending on what thou 
 now art, and on what thou now dost. Thou art now deciding thy own 
 condition for an interminable state of enjoyment or of suffering — Thou 
 art now upon this awful probation! Every thought, word and action, 
 constitutes a part of it. Every fleeting moment brings thee nearer to 
 the end of it; nearer to the time when the seal of an unchanging destiny 
 will be set upon thy state. Think then of the circumstances in which 
 thou art placed; look into thy heart; take counsel of thy conscience; 
 take heed to all thy steps; for nothing ever was so important and in- 
 teresting to thee, as that thou shouldst be prepared to go hence when- 
 ever thou art called. And let us remember—- 
 
 II. That the period of our departure cannot be prolonged by any of 
 our wishes or efforts, being fixed and determined by God. This is a 
 truth to which the text directs our attention. The time which is there 
 mentioned is called " an appointed time." And this appears to refer 
 to an expression still more explicit in the fifth verse, where it is said 
 " his days are determined, the number of his months are with thee; 
 thou hast appointed his bounds that he cannot pass." Numerous pas- 
 sages of Scripture might be added to these, all going to establish the 
 point, that in the counsel and determination of God, the period of 
 human life, as of every thing else, is not uncertain or fluctuating, but 
 fixed and decisive. Reason, also, confirms the same conclusion. To 
 suppose the Deity either ignorant of any event, or changeable in regard 
 to it, is to suppose him imperfect; and this is to deny his essential cha- 
 racter. How the absolute determinations of God coincide with the 
 freedom, operation, and influence of second causes, I pretend not to 
 explain, and expect not, in the present stale, fully to understand. But 
 I think it perfectly consistent with this to say, that I believe both; be- 
 cause, on proper evidence, I ought to believe, and do believe, a great 
 variety of facts, the manner of whose agreement I can neither illustrate 
 nor comprehend. From each class of these tracts, I also deduce prac- 
 tical consequences of the highest importance. In the instance now 
 in view, I derive from the assured belief that means and instruments, 
 under the Divine blessing, have an influence in preserving life, an en- 
 couragement to endeavour to avoid danger, to strive to preserve my 
 health, and to recover it when it is lost. I know that if it be preserved 
 or restored, it must usually be in the use of these means; that the 
 means are as much in my power as any thing whatever can be; and 
 that I am, therefore, blameable if I neglect them. Consequences 
 
4 The Believer waiting for his Change. 
 
 equally important, T also draw from a full belief of the other fact — 
 that ail depends on God. I derive from this an impressive sense of 
 his sovereignty, a conviction of my being absolutely in his hand and at 
 his disposal, my obligations to reverence and fear him, and the com- 
 fortable thought that no accident, and no design of any wicked being, 
 can destroy my life, or do mc any injury, contrary to his sovereign will. 
 
 In regard to the subject immediately before us and to which I shall 
 now contine myself, the entire disposal of human life by the will of 
 our Creator, teaches us that it is infinite folly and presumption to 
 reckon with certainty on a long continuance here; and especially on a 
 period in which we may indulge in sin. How wicked, how infatuated, 
 to calculate on having a protracted space to offend that God in whose 
 hand our life is, and who can cut it short at any moment? What! shall 
 we expect that Heaven will grant us time to be employed in insulting 
 it! Verily if it be granted, it is likely to be granted not in mercy, but in 
 judgment to the presumptuous sinner — granted that he may have time 
 to fill up the measure of his iniquity, and become ripe for a more awful 
 doom. But experience as well as reason, teaches us that it is folly 
 without a parallel, to reckon with certainty on length of days. We 
 sec that (Jod's appointed time for different individuals leaves no room 
 for such a calculation. At all periods, from infancy to old age, we see 
 our fellows finishing the space assigned them. Reasons not fully 
 known to us, but doubtless wise and sufficient in themselves, decide 
 that one shall have a longer, and another a shorter period Time 
 enough, is allowed to each to be prepared for that account which he 
 will be called upon to render up; for this account will be proportioned 
 to the means and opportunities enjoyed. But, when called, neither 
 youth, nor health, nor prudence, nor friends, nor physicians, nor wealth, 
 nor esteem, can disappoint or delay the fixed purpose of Jehovah. He 
 will not be influenced by any of these circumstances or considerations, 
 but the stroke of death shall unavoidably do its office, on him who has 
 lived his appointed time. Let us now consider — 
 
 HI. That it is our duty piously and patiently to wait till this period be 
 accomplished. This was the resolution of holy Job, as expressed in the 
 text. "All the days of my appointed time will 1 wait" — Taking this 
 subject, as I have proposed, in a general view, it may be affirmed with 
 propriety, that the duty of waiting for our great change comprehends 
 in if, 1. Preparation or readiness to depart; 2. Expectation or desire 
 of the destint-d moment; T). Patience while it is delayed, or acquiescence 
 in the will of Him whose coming or determination we look for. It will 
 1 think be found, that to ivait, always refers to some one of these ideas, 
 or to the wliole of them united. 
 
 1. It implies preparation or readiness to depart. When we wait for an 
 event, the implication ever is, that, let it come whenever it may, it will 
 find us in a state promptly to obey its call— with every thing done 
 which is necessary lo be done, or which we wish to do, before its oc- 
 currence. We cannot be said to be waiting for our departure out of 
 time into eternity, unless we are thus circumstanced, in regard to that 
 momentous transition— unless all that is necessary to fit us for it, and 
 render it a happy event to us, is fully accomplished. 
 
 What then, my hearers, is necessary, to render our departure from 
 life a hap|)y event." It is, be assured, essentially necessary, that our 
 natures should be renewed— that our hearts should be changed and 
 sanctified by the Spirit of grace. For—" except a man be born again 
 he cannot see the kingdom of God." Every one of us possesses, by 
 
The Believer waiting for his Change. 5 
 
 nature, a heart wholly depraved — "The carnal mind is enmity against 
 God." This enmity must be removed; this heart of alienation must 
 be taken away — or we can never be partakers of the happiness of the 
 world to come. It becomes impossible, because, without holiness, God 
 will never admit us to his blissful presence; and even if he would, 
 we should be miserable siill,for the want of that temper, taste, and dis- 
 position, which are necessary to qualify us to enter into and enjoy the 
 pure and spiritual exercises which constitute the happiness of glorified 
 spirits. And as this change is absolutely indispensable, so it is equally 
 necessary that it take place in the present life; for after death there 
 can be no change. Then it will be said — " He that is unjust let him 
 be unjust still; and he that is filthy let him be filthy still." The Holy 
 Spirit is the Almighty agent who performs this work; and hence 
 the inspired declaration that we must be " born of the Spirit." He 
 raiust enlighten us to see our guilt and danger. He must give us eyes 
 to behold, and a disposition to accept of the Lord Jesus Christ, as all 
 our salvation and all our desire — trusting entirely to his merits for 
 pardon and eternal life. The influence of the Holy Spirit must bring 
 us truly to loath and repent of all sin; to see its abominable nature; to 
 desire most earnestly and sincerely, a deliverance from it; to love 
 holiness; to delight supremely in God; to possess real benevolence 
 toward all men — enemies as well as fi-iends; and to discharge, as we 
 have opportunity, all the duties which we owe to our Creator, to each 
 other, and to ourselves. These dispositions and exercises are the fruit 
 and evidence of anew nature; they proceed from a sanctified heart; they 
 are its natural produce — flowing like sweet waters from a pure fountain. 
 Thus qualified, the renewed soul holds spiritual communion with God 
 at present, and is fitted to find its highest happiness in him to all eter- 
 nity. But without this qualification, we cannot have such communion 
 now, and, as we have seen, we cannot possibly be prepared for the en- 
 joyment of God, and therefore cannot be admitted to it, at the hour of 
 death. 
 
 You perceive, then, that those who are unacquainted with this great 
 spiritual change — who have not been reconciled to God through Jesus 
 Christ, who have not truly repented of sin, cannot, with any propriety, 
 be said to be waiting for their change. The essential preparation for 
 it, they have as yet, wholly neglected. They have forgotten or disre- 
 garded the main concern, the great errand, on which they were sent into 
 the world. Whether they be in the morning, the meridian, or the de- 
 cline of life, the great business of life is yei untouched by them; it is 
 still all upon their hands; and it urges them to put forth all the powers 
 of their souls — calling on Cicd for help — in an immediate and etfectual 
 attention to its demands. But those who know by happy experience 
 what it is to have passed from death to life, have made what may be 
 denominated the essential preparation for death. They are so waiting 
 for the coming of their Lord, as that his appearance, whenever or how- 
 ever it shall take place, will be a happy eveni to them. Yet it is im- 
 portant, and will be found highly comfortable, 
 
 2. To possess and cherish the desire that the appointed hour for 
 dismission from the world should speedily arrive. This seems clearly 
 to have been the disposition of the penman of the text. He plainly in- 
 timates, that although he would endeavour to wait with resignation, as 
 long as God should please to continue him here, yet it was his choice 
 and inclination to be speedily dismissed. The same sentiment is dis- 
 tinctly expressed by the apostle Paul; "I have, said he, a desire to 
 depart and to be with Christ, which is far better." Through an undue 
 
6 Tlie Believer ivaiting for kis Change. 
 
 attachment to the world, the weakness of their faith, the want of pre- 
 sent and satisfactory evidence of their interest in the covenant of grace, 
 and a clear view and sensible anticipation of the entertainments of the 
 heavenly world, it frequently comes to pass, that those who are the 
 real heirs of glory, are unwilling for the present to leave the world — 
 fearful of the hour of death, and desirous to have it delayed. In oppo- 
 sition to this, it should be their aim, to acquire a firm and settled con- 
 fidence of their covenant interest in the Redeemer, to have their affec- 
 tions weaned from the earth, their worldly concerns so settled and ar- 
 ranged, and their minds so constantly and daily raised up to God, and 
 so delighted in the contemplation of his glorious excellence, as that 
 they should long to be swallowed up in the near and perfect vision of 
 himj as that the summons to depart would be to them a matter of 
 real gratification. This may be called an actual and habitual readiness 
 or preparedness for their dissolution. It is that temper and state of 
 mind in which every child of God would wish to be found, when the 
 messenger death shall deliver the mandate to depart. I say not, indeed, 
 that this state of habitual desire " to be absent from the body and pre- 
 sent with the Lord," is one of easy or general attainment. But I do say, 
 that it is not only desirable and possible, but that it has been actually 
 attained by some, and that it ought to be pressed after, with serious 
 care and diligence, by every real Christian. We ought to endeavour 
 to have our minds so habitually filled with holy desires after God and 
 glory, as that we may view the coming of our Lord like the arrival of 
 a friend, for whom we have been long looking, with anxious and ear- 
 nest expectation. This it is, in deed and in truth, to ivait for our change. 
 But, 
 
 3. While it is delayed, we ought to exercise patience, and resigna- 
 tion to the will of Him who hath appointed the time of our release. 
 This is to be the guard and qualification of what you have just heard. 
 We are not to be impatient, or to murmur and repine, that the hour 
 does not arrive, at which we are to have done with the w^orld. Of this, 
 it may be thought by some, there is little danger; and in reality it is 
 that extreme which is less frequently seen than the other. Yet its oc- 
 currence is sometimes witnessed. It is not a thing unknown in experi- 
 ence, that a child of God should find it far more difficult to be willing 
 to live than willing to die. The pious author of our text himself, was 
 an example of it. Some of his expressions appear to manifest an im- 
 patient wish to be released from his sufferings by death; and the whole 
 spirit of our text, as used by him, is a resolution to guard against this 
 unjustifiable emotion. Elijah and Jonah are other instances, with 
 which the sacred records furnish us, of good men who sinfully wished 
 to die. Nor are instances wanting in every age and place. What 
 shocking proofs are given us of this, when men, through rage or de- 
 spair, put an end to their own lives, and rush, all covered with their 
 sins, to the tribunal of their insulted Creator. Wicked men, who either 
 deliberately disbelieve afuture state, or who have no distinct or impres- 
 sive apprehensions of what awaits them there, are not unfrequently 
 seen to be impatient for death. But good men may also indulge in a 
 degree of this spirit; although preserved, while reason holds its throne, 
 from carrying it to the horrid lengths that have just been mentioned. 
 The cares, and burdens, and perplexities, and fatigue of worldly busi- 
 ness, or of relative duties, may sometimes urge them to this sinful 
 impatience. Long sickness, or much bodily infirmity, or heavy afflic- 
 tions of any kind, may tempt them, as they did Job, to indulge it. 
 
The Believer waiting for his Change. 7 
 
 The languor, lassitude, and various inconveniences and sufferings of 
 old age, are sometimes seen to produce it. The believer hopes for un- 
 mingled happiness beyond the grave, and is ready to be dissatisfied 
 that he is detained in a state of sorrow and affliction. But he ought 
 to remember, that "his times are in the hand of God," and that duty de- 
 mands that this concern be resigned entirely to the divine disposal. The 
 believer should recollect that it is not acting the part of a good servant, 
 to be reluctant to work till evening, nor of a good soldier, to be too de- 
 sirous of being called from his post. He should remember that it is in- 
 cumbent on him to sifffer the will of God, as well as to do it; and that 
 the former of these is often as important, both to himself and to others, 
 as the latter. He should remember that the reward of fidelity is so great, 
 that he may well wait, and do, and suffer, as long, and as much, as God 
 may require, before it be conferred? — eternity will surely be long enough 
 to be happy. While, therefore, he may and ought, with the apostle, 
 as already stated, to indulge a desire to depart and to be with Christ, 
 he should also be willing, as the apostle was, to stay as long as he 
 may be profitable to the church or to the world; or may, in any wise 
 promote the divine glory: and longer than this, he may be well as- 
 sured, God will not suffer any of his children to remain in exile from 
 their heavenly home. Cordially, therefore, let them adopt the lan- 
 guage of the text— "All the days of my appointed time will I wait till 
 my change come" — I am now to remark briefly — 
 
 IV. In the last place, that this change will be, in the highest degree, 
 important and decisive to all. It is spoken of with emphasis in the 
 text — it is denominated 'hny change,'' as if there were no other that 
 could be mentioned or thought of, while this was in contemplation;— 
 or as if no other deserved notice in comparison with this. And such, 
 in reality, is the fact. Death will change all the circumstances of our 
 present existence. The body will change its appearance and its capa- 
 cities. It will change from an animated and attractive form, into a 
 lifeless and unsightly lump of clay. The soul will change worlds. It 
 will change time for eternity, a state of probation for a state of eter- 
 nal fixedness of character and perceptions; a state where happiness 
 and misery are blended together, for one where there will be either 
 happiness or misery without any mixture, and with an intensity of 
 which we can now have no adequate conception; a state where things 
 are seen through the dim medium of the senses, for one where the 
 unimprisoned spirit will discern God and eternal realities, with naked 
 and unobstructed vision. 
 
 Widely different, as already hinted, will be the nature of that tran- 
 sition, which the righteous and the wicked will make, when their last 
 final change shall come. The wicked will then change their indiffer- 
 ence to religion, into an unavailing and endless agony of soul, that 
 they wasted the period of probation, without making preparation for 
 this momentous event. The infidel will change his unbelief of revela- 
 tion, and his sneers at its truth, into an awful conviction of its verity, 
 and into curses on his impiety and folly, for neglecting the counsel of 
 God for his eternal well being. The prosperous and pleasurable sin- 
 ner will change his wealth, his pomp, his fame, his flatterers, and his 
 sensual indulgences, for the blackness of darkness for ever, the soci- 
 ety of blaspheming spirits, tormenting devils, and the gnawing of that 
 worm which shall never die. The giddy, the thoughtless, and the 
 vain, will change all those sportive scenes, which once allured them, 
 and kept their souls from God, for weeping and wailing, and gnashing 
 
8 The Believer ivaiting for his Change, 
 
 of teeth, without hope and without end — awful change I — beyond con- 
 ception awful — to all who shall then be found to have lived without 
 God and withoiit Christ in the world. " O that they were wise, that 
 they understood this, that they would consider their latter end." 
 
 But unspeakably joyous and glorious will be this change, to all the 
 people of God. Faith will then be changed into vision, and they 
 will behold their Saviour, face, to face. They ^^ ill change all the 
 sufferings of time for all the ecstacy of eternity. They will change 
 a state of infirmity for one where no inhabitant shall ever say I am 
 sick; but where all shall possess eternal health, activity, and vi- 
 gour. They shall change the scoff's and reproaches of wicked men for 
 the approbation and applause of God and angels. They shall change 
 a state of labour for a state of rest and reward. They shall change 
 all their doubts and fears, their languor, coldness and sluggishness, in 
 the divine life, for a perfect and enduring assurance of God's love, and 
 the most delightful freedom in his service. They shall change, in a 
 word, a state of sin and imperfection, for a state of immaculate holiness 
 and resemblance to the blessed God — where no enemy or temptation 
 shall ever again assail them; where the body of this death shall no more 
 oppress them; where they shall have no more contentions and conflicts 
 with any of their corruptions; but where the soul shall be completely 
 purified, and shall drink without interruption, and with ever increas- 
 ing delight, of the rivers of pleasure which flow at God's right hand. 
 Thrice blessed and desirable change! Come the happy hour that shall 
 bring it near! — " Come quickly; even so, come Lord Jesus." 
 
 In closing the subject, fidelity to my Master, and to their ov^'n souls de- 
 mands, that I solemnly call on those whose consciences inform them that 
 they are yet in their sins, to accept the offered grace of God lo-day. 
 To-day you enter on a new year; and after all the days and years you. 
 have passed, the whole business of life, as you have heard, is still before 
 you — it is still all on your hands. Is it not time to set about it in ear- 
 nest.^ May not " the time past of your life suffice you to have wrought 
 the will of the flesh?" When do you propose to be wise for eter- 
 nity? — O beware, I conjure you, that you be not surprised into reme- 
 diless misery! Resolve, in the strength of an Almighty Saviour, that 
 this year, this day, yea, from this good hour, you will be for God — that 
 the care of the soul shall be to you the "one thing needful," till its sal- 
 vation is ensured, by a vital union with the Lord Jesus Christ. If my 
 earnest wishes, and prayers, and entreaties, under the blessing of 
 God, shall induce you thus to resolve and act, you will look back 
 to this year, this day, this hour, as one ineffably happy — the one 
 when happiness inconceivable and endless began, and was made as- 
 suredly yours. 
 
 Let those who are yet in painful doubt on the subject of their spi- 
 ritual state, be reminded by this day and this discourse, that their time 
 for ascertaining their true standing as candidates for the weal or woe of 
 eternity, is fast stealing away, and that they know not how soon,Avhether 
 doubting or resolved, their decisive change will come. " How long 
 halt ye between two opinions?" Be exhorted to aim at a higher stand- 
 ard of piety than you have yet proposed to yourselves; and if you 
 reach it, your doubts and fears will be likely to vanish with the attain- 
 ment. Instead of poring over your past experience, go right to the 
 foot of the cross, and as perishing sinners embrace a crucified Saviour, 
 who is as freely offered to you now, as he ever was. If your faith, in- 
 vigorated by the Spirit of all grace, shall give you sensible freedom to 
 
Christ the Believer^s Peace. 9 
 
 trust yourselves simply and solely on the righteousness of Christ, and 
 shall shed abroad his love in your hearts, quickening you in all duty, 
 and giving you a hatred of all sin, you ought to be comforted and esta- 
 blished — ^If you are not, your fears and doubts will then be infirmities, 
 which if they follow you to your great change, will, after it is past, 
 leave you entirely and for ever. 
 
 Christians who possess " a good hope through grace," " the full as- 
 surance of hope," " a hope full of immortality" — this surely must be 
 a joyful day to you. The recurrence of every such day, is a way-mark 
 to travellers on the journey of human life; and this day you see ano- 
 ther of these significant monitors, that your pilgrimage is rapidly ap- 
 proaching its happy termination; that you are one marked portion of 
 time nearer, than on the last occurrence of a new year, to the great 
 change which will carry you from earth to heaven. " Rejoice always, 
 and again I say rejoice;" but be not impatient. Say, with the holy 
 man who spoke our text, — ^" all the days of my appointed time will I 
 wait, till my change come." And while you wait, be active and ex- 
 emplary in every duty. " Let your light so shine before men, that 
 they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in 
 heaven." Keep in mind that all the trials of this mortal state, only 
 " work out for you a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory; 
 while you look not at the things which are seen, but at the things 
 which are not seen." Yes, dear brethren, often look across this vale 
 of tears, and the valley of the shadow of death, to the region of light 
 and life eternal that lies beyond. There every sorrow will be turned 
 into joy, in the immediate presence and vision of that precious Re- 
 deemer to whom you now look by the eye of faith — There 
 
 " His own soft hand shall wipe the tears, 
 
 From every weeping eye ; 
 And pains, and groans, and griefs and fears, 
 
 And death itself shall die. 
 
 " How long, dear Saviour, O how long ! 
 
 Shall this bright hour delay; 
 Fly swifter round, ye wheels of time, 
 
 And bring the welcome day." 
 
 CHRIST THE BELIEVER'S PEACE. 
 Ephesians ii. 14, first part. — " For he is our peace." 
 
 These words, my brethren, point us to the Redeemer of the world. 
 He who is called Jesus, because he saves his people from their sins; 
 he who is called Christ, because he was anointed of the Father for this 
 great purpose; he through whom all the manifestations of the divine 
 mercy that were ever made to the children of men have been conveyed; 
 he, of whom, the apostle affirms in the words which immediately follow 
 the text, that he hath " broken down the middle wall of partition be- 
 tween the Gentile and the Jew, and hath made both one;" he of whom 
 it is declared, in the verse which precedes the text, that "nowin Christ 
 Jesus, ye who sometimes were far off are made nigh by the blood of 
 Christ" — He is our peace; he alone is our peace; he is an unfailing 
 peace-maker. 
 B 
 
10 Christ the Believer^s Peace. 
 
 In discoursing on the words, I will endeavour, in reliance on divine 
 aid, to illustrate them in the three following views: — 
 
 I. As referring to the method in which God was rendered reconcile- 
 able to fallen man. 
 
 II. As descriptive of the manner in which a convinced sinner first 
 obtains solid peace of conscience. 
 
 III. As pointing out the source from which the real Christian de- 
 rives all his consolations and comforts. 
 
 After this, a short improvement shall conclude the discourse. 
 
 First, then, let us consider the words as referring to the method in 
 which God was rendered reconcileable to fallen man. 
 
 Before the birth of time, my brethren, even in the ages of eternity, 
 when " the counsel of peace was between them both," the Son of God, 
 our Lord Jesus Christ, in the foresight of the fall of man and the ruin 
 of our race, engaged to the eternal Father, in the covenant of redemp- 
 tion, to satisfy divine justice in behalf of his elect people, who were 
 given to him in that high and mysterious transaction. Hence, when 
 man had actually fallen, he was not, like the rebel angels, consigned to 
 immediate and hopeless perdition, but received the early promise that 
 " the seed of the woman should bruise the serpent's head." Hence too, 
 the obedience and death of Christ became, by anticipation, the ground 
 of all the favours conferred on a guilty world before his actual appear- 
 ance in the flesh. Through the eflicacy of his work, to be performed 
 in " the fulness of time," the saints under the ancient dispensation ob- 
 tained both grace and glory; for he was the " lamb without blemish 
 and without spot — slain from the foundation of the world:" and since 
 his incarnation and death, his merits and intercession have still re- 
 mained the rich and abounding fountain, from which have flowed forth 
 all the blessings, both of a temporal and a spiritual kind, whicli the race 
 of man has experienced. 
 
 Dwell on the thought for a moment, my brethren, that if you exclude 
 from the system of the divine administration as it respects this v/orld, 
 the benefits of the Redeemer's undertaking, you exclude every thing 
 but sin and sorrow. You open hostilities between heaven and earth, 
 and guilty, feeble man, becomes a creature, in whose present situation 
 and future prospects you can discern nothing but guilt and sufferings. 
 This was once actually his condition. Into this condition he was 
 brought by the violation of the covenant under which he was originally 
 placed — It was the condition of Adam, after his fall, and before the 
 promise of a Saviour. The law of Jehovah had been transgressed, and 
 his justice was pledged to punish the offence. Man had become a rebel 
 against his Maker, and the glory of God was concerned to see that the 
 rebellion should not escape its deserved punishment. The inviolable 
 declaration had gone forth — "In the day thou eatest thereof, thou shalt 
 surely die." Death temporal, spiritual, and eternal, was the awful pe- 
 nalty and doom of the first transgressor, and of all his descendants. 
 " By one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin, and so death 
 passed upon all men, for that all have sinned." 
 
 This view of the condition of man, as condemned and lost, serves to 
 show, most clearly and impressively, the nature and necessity of the 
 Redeemer's undertaking. Having humbled himself to assume our na- 
 ture, he performed wl.at in the covenant of redemption he assumed to 
 do, as the surety of his people. In this character "he fully discharged 
 their debt"* — He completely satisfied the divine law and justice in 
 
 * Confession of Faith, Chap. xi. Sec. 3. 
 
Christ the Believer^ s Peace. 1 1 
 
 their behalf. Having restored the violated honours of the law, by a 
 perfect and sinless obedience, he paid its penalty by his sufferings and 
 death. " Surely," says the evangelical prophet, "he hath borne our 
 griefs and carried our sorrows, yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten 
 of God, and afflicted. But he was wounded for our transgressions, he 
 was bruised for our iniquities, the chastisement of our peace was upon 
 him; and with his stripes we are healed. All we like sheep have gone 
 astrav, we have turned every one to his own way, and the Lord hath 
 laid on him the iniquity of us all"— Of the same tenor is the language 
 of the apostles — " He bare our sins in his own body on the tree— Christ 
 hath redeemed us from the curse of the law, being made a curse for us; 
 for it is written, cursed is every one that hangeth on a tree — He hath 
 made him to be sin for us who knew no sin, that we might be made the 
 righteousness of God in him." It is on this very ground that the great 
 apostle of the Gentiles says, "we pray you in Christ's stead be ye re- 
 conciled to God." It is on this ground that the extension of favours 
 to our guilty race has became consistent with the rights and claims of 
 Jehovah, and that a treaty of peace is opened between God and man. 
 In a word, here is the plan on which "God is in Christ reconciling the 
 world unto himself, not imputing their trespasses unto them." 
 
 Christ, then, is our peace, inasmuch as he hath rendered offended 
 Deity propitious. " Him hath God set forth to be a propitiation 
 through faith in his blood, to declare his righteousness for the remis- 
 sion of sins that are past, through the forbearance of God— To declare 
 I say at this time his righteousness; that he might be just and the jus- 
 tifier of him which believeth in Jesus." Hence, at the nativity of the 
 Saviour, the angels proclaimed "peace on earth and good will to men." 
 The dispensation which he established was a dispensation of peace. 
 The commission which he gave to his apostles and ministers was, to 
 " preach the gospel" — the good news of salvation — " to every crea- 
 ture." It is in virtue of what he hath done, and in virtue of that only, 
 that salvation has become possible, and reconciliation with God attain- 
 able; that we are able, with truth, to proclaim to guilty men, that they 
 may return to their offended Creator, with the hope of acceptance; 
 and that all the ordinances of revealed truth are dispensed for this pur- 
 
 Be especially reminded, that it is wholly in virtue of what Christ 
 hath done, that you, the people of my charge, have so long and so 
 richly enjoyed the means of grace; that you have been waited upon, 
 from week to Aveek, and from year to year, with the messages of peace; 
 that you have been and constantly are entreated, urged, and persuaded, 
 to be at peace with your God; and that all the most cogent motives 
 and affecting considerations are pressed upon you, to induce you to 
 choose so safe and so wise a part. Let us now — 
 
 II. Consider the text as descriptive of the manner in which a con- 
 vinced sinner first obtains solid peace of conscience. In the process of 
 this work, the mind is enlightened by the spirit of grace, to see the re- 
 ality and importance of the truths that have just been stated. The sin- 
 ner is made to feel, with a power that nothing can resist or evade, that 
 " God is a consuming fire to the wicked." The eyes of his under- 
 standing are opened,— it may be gradually or suddenly,— to behold the 
 abounding of iniquity in his life and in his heart, and every excuse and 
 palliation is seen to be of no avail. Conscience brings home the charge, 
 in the language of Nathan to David, " thou art the man"— Thou art 
 the sinner who hast offended thy God; thou art the very one against 
 
12 Christ the Believer^ s Peace, 
 
 whom the divine law and justice point their accusations; thou art the 
 guilty defaulter who owest ten thousand talents; who art chargeable 
 with sins that are of a crimson colour and a scarlet dye; who art, at 
 this moment, deserving and liable to be banished forever from all good; 
 and yet thou art the very soul who canst make no reparation for thy 
 offences — Ah! when this conviction of guilt thus takes hold on the con- 
 science, in what an interesting light does it then appear, that Christ 
 Jesus is our peace. The convinced sinner sees — I should rather say 
 he feels — feels with the keenest sensibility, that but for Christ peace 
 Avould be impossible. 
 
 And when this convicted sinner is enabled to embrace the gospel 
 offer, and by faith to lay hold on Christ, in an appropriating act, as his 
 own Saviour; when he feels a holy freedom, delight, and desire, draw- 
 ing him away, to make a full and unreserved surrender of himself — of 
 his all of hope and happiness, into his Redeemer's hands; when the 
 suitableness and excellence of the plan of redemption beams on the 
 soul, with such a lustre of evidence and beauty as to constrain it lo cry 
 out — "this is all my salvation and all my desire" — then is every sorrow 
 turned into joy; and with a sv/eet outgoing of spirit, not to be de- 
 scribed, he will say, " Christ is my peace: here is that peace for which 
 I have so ardently panted; here, at length, I have found it. I have 
 been viewing myself as the enemy of God, and God as my enemy. It 
 seemed as if his very honour was engaged to punish such an unholy 
 wretch as I have been. But — it must be by the enlightening influence 
 of his own blessed Spirit — he now gives me to see, not only that a re- 
 conciliation is possible, but that its taking place will even advance his 
 declarative glory, by showing how "mercy and truth are met together, 
 righteousness and peace have kissed each other," in the salvation of 
 the chief of sinners by Jesus Christ. I feel a supreme delight in con- 
 templating this very method of salvation. I am sure it is that which I 
 would choose, if I had ten thousand choices. And it is freely proposed 
 — yea I am commanded to accept and trust it. I do accept it cordially 
 — I am conscious that I do. It is therefore — O the overwhelming 
 thought of joy! — it is, it must be mine. Yes, and here I will hold, in 
 defiance of all the enemies of my peace. Let the tempter no more per- 
 suade me to despair or to despond. I know my sins are great and nu- 
 merous; I know they have gone to heaven and cry for vengeance. I 
 know, too, that I have no strength — that in myself I am very weakness. 
 But I see every thing that I need in Christ my Saviour. I see a value 
 in his blood that answei-s to every demand of God's holy law against 
 mie. If my sins have gone to heaven, he too has gone to heaven, to 
 plead his merits before the throne to which my sins have risen. If 
 they cry for condemnation, he shows his merits; he answers the de- 
 mands of law and justice, and thus grants peace and pardon. He ever 
 liveth to make intercession for me, and he can save even to the utter- 
 most, all that come unto God by him. He can, and he will, supply all 
 my need from the riches of his grace and fulness. Begone, then, ye in- 
 sidious tempters to unbelief; ye treacherous enemies of my peace be- 
 gone: for to all your insinuations I will still oppose this one incontro- 
 vertible answer — the fulness of Christ. On this I feel a freedom to rely 
 — " this is the rock of my peace, and the gates of hell shall not prevail 
 against it." 
 ' But—- 
 III. The words before us point out the source from which the real 
 Christian must, and will, continue to derive all his consolations and 
 
Christ the Believer^s Peace, 13 
 
 comforts — For we are to remember that Christ is not only the author 
 and cause of the freedom which is first obtained from the condemning- 
 sentence of the law, and the accusations of a guilty conscience, and of 
 the first peace and joy which follow on believing; but he is also, 
 throughout the whole of the Christian course, the bestower of all the 
 spiritual blessings which the believer is made to possess. Let me il- 
 lustrate this part of the subject, by leading you to view the offices sus- 
 tained by our glorious Redeemer. 
 
 My brethren, it is not a tenet derived originally from the love of sys- 
 tem, or the affectation of nice distinctions; it is not merely the creed 
 of children, or the sound of words, when we speak to you of the offices 
 of Christ. The doctrine is derived from the scripture itself, and who- 
 ever knows the power of godliness, will know, practically and substan- 
 tially, if not formally, its important meaning. 
 
 Christ is a king. God hath " set his king on his holy hill of Zion;'* 
 and hath " committed all things into his hands;" and hath " given him 
 to be head over all things to the church." "He must reign till he hath 
 put all enemies under his feet." In the execution of this kingly office 
 of the Redeemer, the peace of the believer is rendered secure, against 
 the numerous and powerful enemies, who would otherwise wrest it 
 from him in a moment. The great adversary of our souls is ever busy 
 in bringing forward temptations to the mind, under various forms. 
 Often does the Christian find himself assaulted with these, — often in a 
 manner which he little expected, and always would they prevail against 
 his peace, were it not for the aid and protection he receives from his 
 almighty Saviour. But he who so often manifested his power over 
 the prince of darkness while here on earth, has not less ability to con- 
 trol and defeat his designs, now that he has ascended on high. He 
 will not suffer his people " to be tempted above that they are able; but 
 will, with the temptation, also make a way to escape, that they may be 
 able to bear it." To open to their view the remaining depravity and 
 deceitfulness of their hearts, and thus to increase their humility and 
 their sense of dependence on their Lord, he may permit the tempter, 
 as in the case of Peter, to prevail to a certain length. But out of every 
 temptation the King of Zion will, at length and without fail, deliver his 
 subjects : and their peace, like a mass of iron, which settles deeper in 
 the earth for being shaken, shall become the more firm and stable, from 
 all the shocks which it receives. 
 
 The world is, also, a dangerous enemy of the Christian's peace. By 
 stealing insidiously into his heart, and mingling its love unduly with 
 the current of his better affections — by terrifying with its frowns, op- 
 pressing with its cares, and seducing* with its blandishments, it often 
 destroys the holy tranquillity of the soul. But the great Captain of 
 salvation will not sufter it finally to prevail. By the winning influences 
 of his grace, or by the rod of correction seasonably applied, he will 
 wean every sincere follower's heart from this unhallowed attachment, 
 and make him say, with his servant of old — " Return unto thy rest, O 
 my soul, for the Lord hath dealt bountifully with thee." 
 
 The flesh, with its affections and lusts, is likewise a most dangerous 
 and successful enemy to the peace of the believer. Unsanctified de- 
 sires, propensities, emotions, and passions, frequently plead for indul- 
 gence, and too often break forth into open sin. Coldness, indifference, 
 and indisposition to duty, often oppress the spirit, and make it drag 
 heavily along its Christian course. The mind, thus affected, may be, 
 for a season, at war with itself. But, Christians, Christ is your peace. 
 
14 Christ the Believer^s Peace. 
 
 From his kingly office, you are to seek for a victory over your corrup- 
 tions, and the removal of your spiritual sloth. He can subdue all these 
 enemies, and set you at liberty from your bondage to them, and quicken 
 you effectually in the divine life. Apply earnestly to him, and in his 
 own good time, he will give you that enlargement which is best; and 
 in the meantime, he will never suffer you wholly to fall before them. 
 Be mindful that in him, and not in yourselves, lies your strength and 
 your safety, and to him seek incessantly, that you may "be strong in 
 the grace which is in Christ Jesus." 
 
 Christ is also a prophet — He was " that prophet that should come 
 into the world." He revealed the method of salvation more clearly 
 and fully than it had been known before. By his Spirit, applying the 
 truth of his word, he still reveals himself in the hearts of his people, 
 and manifests himself unto them " as he does not manifest himself unto 
 the world." Here is the Christian\s refuge from that ignorance, blind- 
 ness, and darkness, which sometimes so fatally destroy his peace. 
 Losing those clear views and that affecting sense of spiritual and eter- 
 nal realities which once he possessed, the believer is often disquieted 
 and perplexed, and is sometimes ready to condemn himself as wholly 
 graceless. But in the prophetic office of his Saviour, he is made to find 
 peace. By the enlightening influence of his Spirit, the darkness is 
 chased away, and the clouds which overshadowed his mind are dis- 
 pelled: or if, in any degree, they remain, the gloom is abated; there 
 are intervals of light. The Sun of righteousness sheds down his beams 
 in such measure, as to enable him " that walked in darkness and had no 
 light," to perceive that he is travelling the path which will terminate 
 in the regions of eternal day. 
 
 Under the teachings of Christ in his prophetic office, his people like- 
 wise obtain spiritual views of revealed truth, which unsanctified men 
 never possess. Real Christians, also, by divine illumination, often 
 perceive, in various parts of the sacred word, a beauty, an excellence, 
 and a suitableness of the truth to their own condition and wants, which 
 greatly promote their edification and animate their hopes. In short, 
 the Spirit of grace and truth, as the Spirit of Christ in his prophetic 
 office, teaches them rightly to apply and trust the promises, to under- 
 stand their own character and state, and to discern the wise design and 
 benevolent intention of providential dispensations — even of those which 
 once seemed mysterious and trying to their faiih — in such a manner as 
 to restore their peace when impaired, to establish it when possessed, 
 and to put a song of praise into iheir mouth, to a faithful and covenant- 
 keeping (iod. 
 
 Christ, in fine, is a priest — " He is a priest forever after the order of 
 Mclchisedec — he hath an unchangeable priesthood: wherefore he is 
 able, also, to save them to the uttermost that come unto God l)y him, 
 seeing he ever liveth to make intercession for them. For such a high 
 priest became us who is holy, harmless, undefiled, separate from sin- 
 ners, and made higher than the heavens; who needeth not daily, as 
 those high priests, to offer up sacrifice, first for his own sins, and then 
 for the people, for this he did once, when he offered up himself." 
 
 Every practical Christian has learned from his own experience, how 
 essential to the pi-eservation of his peace, is this priestly office of the 
 Redeemer. Deeply is he sensible of many and aggravated offences 
 against his heavenly Father; numerous, if not reproachful backslidings, 
 he has to bewail; innumeral)le instances of ingratitude he sees in his 
 life; inexcusable and repeated omissions of duly, present themselves to 
 
Christ the Believei^^s Peace. 15 
 
 his view, and great imperfection he discovers in his very best per- 
 formances. Comparing-, therefore, his life with the strict demands of 
 the law, or the purity and holiness of the nature of God, his own heart 
 condemns him, and he knows that " God is greater than his heart and 
 knoweth all things." In those eyes which cannot behold any sin but 
 with abhorrence, he who is sanctified but in part, must necessarily ap- 
 pear unspeakably more polluted than in his own. But still Christ is 
 his peace. When, with a penitent, broken, bleeding heart for his sins, 
 he can get near to the throne of grace, and plead in faith the value of 
 the peace-speaking blood of his Redeemer, he feels that all the threat- 
 enings of the law are disarmed of their terrors. He views Christ, in his 
 priestly office, as having made a full satisfaction for sin and transgres- 
 sion^ and when he is enabled by the arm of faith to take, as it were, a 
 firm hold of this satisfaction, and bring it before the throne of grace, 
 and there plead its glorious all-sufficiency, he feels that it must prevail. 
 It must prevail against the cry of all his guilt, for it is of boundless 
 worth, and God hath declared that whosoever cometh unto him in this 
 way he will in no wise cast out. O my brethren ! when, in the exercise 
 of precious faith, you find a blessed enlargement of heart to plead the 
 righteousness of Christ — to plead it with a sense of its perfection and 
 its infinite value — does it not give you " a peace which passeth all un- 
 derstanding?" Does it not make you to rejoice in good hope of the 
 glory of God? Does it not make you feel that you have an argument 
 that is irresistible.^ Does it not, in a word, and that the v/ord of God, 
 persuade you satisfactorily, that " being justified by faith, you have 
 peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ." 
 
 Did time permit, I might enlarge on what I shall only state in the 
 most summary manner — That he who is at peace with his God, and 
 in peace with himself, on the terms of the gospel, will also be at peace 
 with the world. He will "seek peace and pursue it;" he will endeavour 
 to be a peace-maker among all with whom he has intercourse; and 
 for himself, "if it be possible, as much as in him lieth, he will live 
 peaceable with all men." 
 
 To improve the subject, let us reflect — 
 
 1. If Christ is our peace, if he is so in an exclusive sense, then those 
 that are not united to him by a vital faith — those that are out of Christ 
 — are out of the path of peace. Yes, let me proclaim it with an awful 
 solemnity, " there is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked." Let me, 
 in faithfulness to the souls of those whom I am bound to watch, most 
 seriously admonish every Christless sinner in this assembly, thai he is 
 travelling a peaceless path. Dear inconsiderate immortals, believe it 
 for your good, that while you are not reconciled to God through Jesus 
 Christ, there is nothing but pain in your prospects, and disappointment 
 in your pursuits. " Destruction and misery are in your ways, and the 
 way of peace you have not known." All the dem.ands of God's violated 
 law stand good against you. Not one of them is or can be cancelled, 
 till by faith you are interested in the divine Redeemer. Till then, you 
 are under the curse, and liable, every moment, to its full execution. 
 But— 
 
 2. As Christ has been made a peace offiiring for the sins of men, 
 and the gospel is published for the express purpose of inviting them to 
 return unto God, will not this prevail with every soul who is here pre- 
 sent, to endeavour to lay hold on Christ and on eternal life by him.? Is 
 heaven proclaiming peace, and is the guilty world for a war against the 
 Almighty? Is the Saviour pursuing rebels and aggressors, and almost 
 
16 Christ the Believer^s Peace. 
 
 compelliiifj their acceptance of his rich offers, and will they obstinately 
 refuse to hear, obey, and live? What madness half so desperate as 
 this! Men and brethren! I beseech you by the gentleness of Christ, to 
 turn to him for salvation. On this occasion, especially, I would plead 
 with every heart that is not wholly lost to gratitude and duty. Here, 
 over the emblems of the body and blood of that Saviour whom your 
 sins contributed to slay; over the remains of a friend that loved us with 
 a love that was stronger than death; over the ashes, as it were, of that 
 burnt sacrifice which Avas made for your peace; over the symbols which 
 exhibit the Redeemer "evidently set forth crucified among you" — I do 
 tenderly and most solemnly obtest and conjure you, that you renounce 
 your sins, and without delay flee to Christ for salvation; that you "kiss 
 the son lest he be angry, and ye perish from the way." 
 
 3. Lastly. This subject speaks the most comfortable and encou- 
 raging language to those who are about to sit down at the table of the 
 Lord. Christ is our peace; and now, dear brethren, we are going to 
 commemorate the great transaction by which peace was obtained. To 
 this the dear Redeemer here invites us. Let us endeavour to draw near 
 in the exercise of repentance, faith, and love. Must we not be filled with 
 penitential sorrow, while we recollect the sins which needed such a sa- 
 crifice to make expiation for them.^ Must we not be deeply grieved, 
 and humbled, and abased, while we think that our sins had their full 
 share in tlie infliction of agony, crucifixion and death, on the Lord of 
 life and glory. Truly, the infinite malignity, and the tremendous pun- 
 ishment due to sin, no where appear so conspicuously — not even in 
 the flames of hell — as in the cross of Christ. Here then, let us contem- 
 plate our guilt and our desert; and let penitential sorrow melt our 
 hearts, and bring us very low before our God. But blessed be his holy 
 name, while the demerit and desert of sin are most conspicuously and 
 awfully displayed in the sacrifice of Christ, that same sacrifice exhibits, 
 with equal clearness, the complete atonement, the full satisfaction, the 
 finished expiation, which was made for that very sin, though it be "of 
 a scarlet colour and crimson dye," in behalf of all who look away from 
 every thing else, and trust their souls simply, unreservedly, and con- 
 fidingly, into the hands of their redeeming God. So, beloved brethren, 
 let us now do. Let our faith embrace him without wavering. Let us 
 afresh "put on Christ." In the exercise of precious faith, let us draw 
 over us the spotless robe of the Saviour's righteousness, that it may 
 "be unto and upon us," to cover all our guilt and our pollution, to be 
 our complete justification before the throTie of God, and prove our title 
 to eternal life. With this " wedding garment," let us go to the gospel 
 feast before us; and there, with the appointed symbols and seals, let us 
 solemnly re-ratify our covenant engagements to our blessed Lord, and 
 take his i-enewed covenant pledge that he will be ^^ our peace" for time 
 and for eternity. "O the breadth, and length, and depth, and height, 
 of the love of Christ — it passeth knowledge." Yes, verily, we can 
 never know it fully in time, and it will form the delightful study and 
 meditation of glorified spirits throughout eternity. But we are taught 
 so to contemplate it now^ as that we may " be filled with all the fulness 
 of God." Help us, gracious Lord, in these contemplations, while we • 
 sit at thy table; and let thy " love constrain us" to consecrate our hearts 
 and our lives to thee; and O be thou with us, to make us faithful unto 
 the death, that we may receive the crown of life eternal. Amen. 
 
The Soul Resting in God. IT 
 
 THE SOUL RESTING IN GOD. 
 
 Psalm cxvi. 7. — " Return unto thy rest, O my soul ; for the Lord hath dealt bountifully 
 
 with thee." 
 
 Notwithstanding the questions which have been raised relative to 
 the author of the psalm in which these words are found, we hesitate 
 not to ascribe them to that eminent saint, who is called in the sacred 
 records, " the sweet Psalmist of Israel," and " the man after God's 
 own heart." This distinguished personage was not only, by divine 
 designation, the king of the ancient chosen people of Jehovah, and the 
 successful warrior whose conquests had put into their possession the 
 whole domain that had been promised to their fathers^ but he was also 
 richly endowed with the gifts both of prophecy and poetry. His inspi- 
 red lyrics have formed the principal source of devotional song for the 
 church of God, in every age since their publication. The psalms of 
 David unquestionably abound in such lofty descriptions of the divine 
 attributes, such exalted strains of adoration and praise, such heavenly 
 aspirations of soul, and such wonderful examples of the communing 
 of the human spirit with the great Father of spirits, as have never 
 been surpassed, perhaps never equalled, except in the case of our 
 blessed Redeemer, who, in one mysterious person, united our nature 
 with the Godhead. Yet the spiritual depressions of the royal psalmist 
 seem to have been correspondent to his elevations; and the exemplifi- 
 cation of this in the psalm before us, decides our belief that it is his 
 composition. Strong, and striking indeed, is the language of the con- 
 text, in describing its author's deep affliction and distress. " The sor- 
 rows of death, he says, compassed me, and the pains of hell gat hold 
 upon me; I found trouble and sorrow." Under such feelings, even if 
 inspiration had not guided him, he could not have spoken lightly on 
 the subject of rest. His language, notwithstanding, is the language of 
 confidence, when he tells us, not only where he had once found it, but 
 where he might find it again. , " Return unto thy rest, O my soul, for 
 the Lord hath dealt bountifully with thee." 
 
 In speaking on this passage of holy writ — principally on the first 
 part of it — I will, in reliance on divine assistance, endeavour — 
 
 I. To show where, and in what it was, that the psalmist confidently 
 expected to find the relief which he so much needed and desired. 
 
 II. To evince that it possesses all the properties which he ascribes 
 to it, when he calls it emphatically his rest. 
 
 III. To show what will enable and entitle us, to appropriate and 
 apply to ourselves, the consolatory language of the text. 
 
 After this, a short improvement shall conclude the discourse. 
 
 Frst, then, we are to consider where, and in what it was, that the 
 psalmist confidently expected to find the relief which he so much need- 
 ed and desii-ed. 
 
 It scarcely seems necessary to observe, that the author of the text 
 must have intended something more by it, than merely that he would 
 attempt to quiet and compose his mind, by the ordinary means and 
 endeavours which are used for that purpose. TJie manner of his ex- 
 pression, as well as the whole connexion of the words, plainly demon- 
 C 
 
18 The Soul Resting in God. 
 
 strates, that he had in view some distinct and peculiar object, toward 
 which he might turn the current of his thoughts, and by centring 
 them on which, they would naturally and certainly obtain composure 
 and quiet. He speaks of this rest as a fixed and unfailing resource, to 
 which he might return as to a home, whenever he wanted refreshment 
 and enjoyment for his mind. — My brethren, this object, this resource, 
 this home, this resting place for the soul, is God himself. The psalm- 
 ist clearly intimates this in the latter part of the text. — "Return unto 
 thy rest, O my soul; for the Lord hath dealt bountifully with thee" — 
 That is — ^' Let thy meditations fix themselves on thy God, who hath 
 bountifully supplied all thy necessities, whenever thou hast fled from 
 the broken cisterns of creature reliefs to him alone." The same senti- 
 ments are expressed and repeated, immediately before and immediately 
 after the text. " Gracious is the Lord and righteous, yea our God is 
 merciful. The Lord preserveth the simple, I was brought low and he 
 helped me — Thou hast delivered my soul from death, mine eyes from 
 tears, and my feet from falling. What shall I render unto the Lord 
 for all his benefits towards me. I will take the cup of salvation and 
 call on the name of the Lord. Precious in the sight of the Lord is the 
 death of his saints." The whole of these expressions point us to God 
 as the rest of the psalmist's soul. In contemplating the infinite excel- 
 lence of the divine nature; in surveying the glory of the divine attri- 
 butes; in calling to mind that a God of boundless wisdom, power and 
 goodness, would infallibly order every thing for the best; in recollect- 
 ing and believing that this God was in covenant with his soul,— recon- 
 ciled to him through the blood of the covenant, and engaged to be to 
 him, and to do for him, infinitely more and better than he could con- 
 ceive, — to be his protector now and his portion to all eternity; — in the 
 indulgence of these meditations; in the cultivation of these exercises; 
 in the consciousness of such possessions, and the cherishing of such 
 expectations, he expected his mind to be fully tranquillized and satis- 
 fied. However great his troubles, however imminent his dangers, 
 however involved his perplexities, however keen his anguish, here was 
 one remedy for all; here he would be at rest — Here was a peaceful re- 
 gion, where the storms of distress could never gather, to which the 
 blasts of discontentment could never reach. Here he would feel himself 
 secure from the world, — secure from all possible accidents, and would 
 experience all those desirable sensations which arise from a mind se- 
 rene and satisfied. Very properly, therefore, might he call this a rest- 
 ing place for his soul, and resolve to flee to it for refuge, against the 
 calamities which had been pressing him so heavily and painfully. This 
 I am to show more fully, by endeavouring — 
 
 IL To evince that the psalmist's resource possesses all the proper- 
 ties that he ascribes to it, when he calls it, with emphasis, his rest. 
 
 Let us here consider a few of the circumstances essential to rest, and 
 see if they are not always the concomitants of the resource we con- 
 template — 
 
 L In order to be at rest we ought to be in safety/. Without safety 
 there can be no rational or durable quiet. The thoughtless and stupid 
 may, indeed, be free from alarm in the midst of danger. But this is 
 insensibility or infatuation, rather than rest. Dreadful, surely, and not 
 desirable, must be that composure which wholly depends on ignorance, 
 or the want of consideration — on not knowing, or not considering, 
 what one's true situation is. It is not only bad while it lasts, but it is 
 continually liable to detection. He who reposes on forgetfulness or 
 
The Soul Resting in God, 19 
 
 falsehood, may, at any moment, be awakened to misery; and if never 
 awakened, his protracted slumbers can only end in perdition. Of that, 
 therefore, which deserves the name of rest, safety is an essential attri- 
 bute. Now this attribute of safety was not peculiar to the condition 
 of the prince and prophet who uttered the text. It equally belongs 
 to the state and situation of every child of God. The closest exa- 
 mination, and the imagination even of the most numerous and singu- 
 lar circumstances, will but tend to demonstrate the extent of his se- 
 curity. 
 
 Say that there is a dark aspect spread over human affairs in general, 
 or over those in which the saint is more immediately concerned. Sen- 
 sible of his interest in the divine favour, and having his own will swal- 
 lowed up in the will of God, he may and ought to indulge in such medi- 
 tations as these — " My heavenly Father is the absolute Sovereign and di- 
 rector of all events: and will not the Judge of all the earth do right.^ Do 
 I not desire that his counsel should stand, and that he should do all his 
 pleasure? Mournful, indeed, is the contemplation of human misery, and 
 it is my duty to use my utmost efforts to prevent or to diminish it; but 
 still, I am warranted to take comfort in the thought, that come to pass 
 what may, God will eventually overrule it for good. He, especially, 
 who controls all things, and without whose superintending care a 
 sparrow falleth not to the ground. He, assuredly, will take care of a 
 child who looks to and depends upon him. Yes, he hath promised to 
 do it, and he cannot deceive. He hath promised ' to withhold no 
 good thing from them that walk uprightly.' He hath declared ' that 
 all things work together for good to them that love God; — that all 
 things are theirs, things present and things to come, life or death, all 
 are theirs.' What is best for me or for others, I know not: But my 
 heavenly Father knoweth, and with him it is my privilege to leave it. 
 It may, indeed, be the loss of something that I value, or the refusal of 
 something that I wish. But if the loss or the refusal will terminate in 
 my ultimate advantage, let me welcome a merciful disappointment. 
 Confident, therefore, that he who directs all events will not permit me 
 to be afflicted unless it be for my good, and desirous of affliction if it 
 will, I will be at rest; for I have trusted all my concerns into his hands, 
 and there they must be safe." Brethren — Here is no exaggeration — 
 Here is nothing but practical truth, and unquestionable Christian ex- 
 perience. The triumphant language of the prophet Habakkuk is 
 in strict and full accordance with the representation I have given. 
 "Although the fig-tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the 
 vines, the labour of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat, 
 the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no herd in 
 the stall: Yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my 
 salvation." 
 
 Say, again, that the man who has made God his refuge, is beset with 
 enemies; which seems to have been in some measure the cause of dis- 
 tress to the author of the text — Still he will realize that he is safe, 
 under the divine protection. He will recollect the declaration which 
 saith — " Surely the wrath of man shall praise thee; the remainder of 
 wrath shalt thou restrain," and the gracious assurance — " He will keep 
 thee as the apple of his eye." His trust, therefore, is in God, and 
 here, being safe, he is at rest. 
 
 Or say that even the life of him who has the psalmist's resource is 
 threatened — Still he has the consolation to reflect that he is safe. Death 
 to him can bring no danger. I assert not, that it will not some- 
 
20 Tlie Soul Resting in God. 
 
 times bring a degree of alarm. The consciousness of remaining cor- 
 ruption, a deep sense of ill desert, the weakness of faith, the impor- 
 tance of the unchangeable state on which he is entering, the natural 
 dread of dissolution, may, by their separate or combined influence, 
 excite some perturbation. But still you will observe, he is safe — safe 
 in fact, although he cannot take all the comforts to which he is enti- 
 tled. His case is the very reverse of that of the impious man, who is 
 in danger while he is unalarmed. One dark step will terminate all the 
 gloom of the child of God, and usher him into the regions of eternal 
 day. But this, you will recollect, is putting the case at the very worst. 
 Frequently — very frequently — the saint is able to repose, in unshaken 
 confidence, on the faithfulness of Him in whose eyes " the death of his 
 saints is precious." Supported by this confidence, the bed of death is 
 to him a bed of the sweetest rest, as well as safety. He can say, and 
 the speaker has heard it from expiring lips — 
 
 " Jesus can make a dying bed 
 
 Feel soft as downy pillows are; 
 While on his breast I lean my head, 
 
 And breathe my life out sweetly there." 
 
 Yes, the believer can say — casting the eye of faith on the mansions 
 which his Saviour has promised and gone to prepare — " Return unto 
 thy rest — thy eternal rest, O my soul." I now see it nearj it is full in 
 viewj the rest that remaineth for the people of God. " Come, Lord 
 Jesus — even so — come quickly." 
 
 Thus it appears, that the attribute of safety, which is so essential to 
 rest, will, in every possible situation, be found by the man of undis- 
 sembled piety. Unbelievers themselves must allow, that his state is 
 the safest of all. If they think that his religion is false, they must 
 still admit that it is safe — that it cannot injure him beyond the grave. 
 He is, therefore, like a merchant whose goods are all gratuitously in- 
 sured. He can lose nothing; and whatever is to be gained, he is sure 
 to gain it. He is on the safe side of the momentous question, and is, 
 consequently, entitled to be at rest. 
 
 2. Freedom from pain and anxiety, is a circumstance necessary to 
 rest. 
 
 My brethren — The present state was intended to be a state of trial. 
 No individual, therefore, of whatever condition or character, will be 
 wholly exempted from affliction. The Deity hath never promised that 
 his own children shall escape it. On the contrary, he hath promised 
 that, when necessary, they shall endure it— -"For whom the Lord lov- 
 eth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth. If ye 
 endure chastening, God dealeth with you as with sons; for what son is 
 he whom the Father chasteneth not." It is, however, the happy lot of 
 the people of God to be perfectly assured that they shall be preserved 
 from all unnecessary distress, and that what they suffer shall not only 
 be sanctified to them in the end, but that they shall find solace or sup- 
 port during its continuance. This is to speak within the bounds of 
 the strictest verity. The word of life declares, and experience wit- 
 nesses to its truth, — "That the Lord is a strong hold in the day of 
 trouble:" And to possess the soul in peace, to have internal quiet and 
 satisfaction, is to pluck from affliction its most envenomed sting. 
 When the mind can lean with confidence on some stable support, ad- 
 versity, pain and suffering, are half annihilated. 
 
 These, then, are the favourable circumstances in which those who 
 have confidence in the divine favour will encounter the pains of the 
 
The Saul Restins in God, 21 
 
 'O 
 
 body, or the anxieties of the mind. While the satisfying sense of the 
 love of God abides on their hearts, they will be able to say with the apos- 
 tle — " We rejoice even in tribulation" — and—" Though our outward 
 man perish, yet the inward man is renewed day by day — For our light 
 affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceed- 
 ing and eternal weight of glory. While we look, not at the things 
 which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: For the things 
 which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are 
 eternal." The representation of the apostle here is, that the attention 
 of a suffering saint, even while he is immediately under the rod, may 
 be so taken up with the contemplation and assurance of better things to 
 come, that he will but lightly feel, and little regard, the pain of the stroke 
 which is inflicted. This certainly is a matter of Christian experience. 
 The pious mind may be, and often is, so engaged, in the hour of afflic- 
 tion, with holy meditations and consolations, that pain, or other af- 
 flictive circumstances, lose largely the effect which they are wont to 
 produce — Nay, the Christian is sometimes ready to give thanks for all 
 that he endures, finding it accompanied with a divine support, not or- 
 dinarily experienced. And when, for a little, his mind is drawn off, and 
 his attention becomes engaged with the circumstances which afflict 
 him, which certainly is often the case, still this unfailing and consola- 
 tory resource is ever at hand. Recollection comes speedily to his aid, 
 and pointing to heaven, admonishes the soul — "Return unto thy rest. 
 Let thy thoughts fix again upon thy God. Flee away from all thy 
 cares and thy griefs, and solace thyself with divine consolations." But 
 this is anticipating what I propose to state distinctly — 
 
 3. That a circumstance essentially necessary to mental rest is, that 
 there be some subject to dwell upon, which is pleasing, soothing, satis- 
 fying, and delightful — This seems to have been most directly in the 
 view of the sacred penman of the words before us. He had been 
 greatly perplexed and agitated with distressing, anxious, and pain- 
 ful emotions. Worn out with them, at last, he resolves to banish them 
 from his mind, by turning his thoughts on God, his exceeding joy. 
 This it is which gives force to the word return. He had wandered 
 from the place of his rest, to which he now determines again to resort. 
 My brethren — discontent, uneasiness, anxiety, grief, and perturbation, 
 may steal into the hearts of the best of men, and grievously corrode 
 them for a time. But it is their peculiar privilege to escape at length 
 from these disquieting intruders, by recurring to that source of plenary 
 satisfaction, which a consciousness of the divine favour opens for them. 
 I am aware that I have already called your attention to this considera- 
 tion. But I must enlarge upon it a little; it is worthy of a more dis- 
 tinct notice. Judge, then, I say, if that man has not a subject for me- 
 ditation calculated to speak peace to his troubled spirit, v/ho can con- 
 template infinite wisdom, power, and goodness, with the pleasing 
 confidence that they are engaged for his protection and happiness? 
 May not he with good reason be at rest, who can reflect that God Al- 
 mighty is his friend, by solemn covenant and oath.^ That he who sits 
 at the helm of the universe will govern and direct all his concerns, in 
 such a manner as shall issue in his safety and advantage? Are not 
 these reflections adapted to still the agitation, soothe the anguish, or 
 dispel the darkness of the mind? May not he who is entitled to in- 
 dulge them, say with great propriety — " Return unto thy rest, O my 
 soul — Leave these perplexing concerns, about which thou art so 
 anxious. Thou hast disquieted thyself too much already; turn thy 
 
22 The Soul Restin"; in God. 
 
 ^s 
 
 thoughts upon thy God; there thou wilt not fail to find peace and re- 
 pose; there thou wilt see thy present safety and thy future glory; there 
 thou wilt see how Utile and unworthy are the things which give thee 
 so much uneasiness; there thou wilt see their short duration; there 
 thou wilt see thyself raised above them; there thy God will hide thee 
 in his pavilion, and shelter thee from every annoyance. Return, there- 
 fore, return unto thy rest, O my soul; ' for the Lord hath dealt bounti- 
 fully with thee.' " 
 
 Let us now, very briefly, consider — 
 
 in. What will entitle and enable us to appropriate and apply to our- 
 selves the language of the text. In addresses from the sacred desk, my 
 brethren, it is often quite as important to inculcate truth, as to teach 
 or explain it; to endeavour to bring home to the hearts and consciences 
 of our hearers the doctrine which, in abstract speculation, they will 
 readily admit. So I think, it is with the subject before us. There is 
 little need of argument to show, that if we would be partakers of the 
 psalmist's privilege, it is indispensable that we possess a portion of 
 the psalmist's temper. It is manifest at once, that there can be no 
 rest, where there is enmity against the party in whose favour and lov- 
 ing kindness rest must be found. Now the oracles of infallible truth 
 assure us, that " the carnal mind is enmity against God," and of course 
 God cannot be the rest of the carnal mind, while its enmity remains. 
 The thing, you perceive, is a natural impossibility. It is so, because 
 the sinner never will, in fact, seek rest in God; and if he did, he would 
 find nothing but what was hostile, as well as hateful to him. It be- 
 hooves each of us, therefore, to let the truth sink deep into his heart, 
 that, before it be possible for him to appropriate and apply to himself 
 the language of the text, he must possess such a temper as that his de- 
 sires may be gratified, and the highest pleasure of his mind be furnish- 
 ed, by the contemplation of all the divine attributes and dispensations. 
 Yes, beloved hearers, you must be transformed by the renewing of your 
 mind; you must be born again — and born of the Spirit; you must be 
 made to love what God loves, and to hate what he hates; you must, in 
 a word, be truly reconciled to God through Jesus Christ, before the 
 soul of any one of you can rest in God. Without this, no one can be 
 entitled to use the language of the text, for the obvious reason that he 
 cannot use it with truth or propriety. Hear the oracle of God — " The 
 wicked are like the troubled sea when it cannot rest, whose waters cast 
 up mire and dirt." 
 
 But, my brethren, if we would be able, at all times^ to find our rest in 
 God, we must not only be truly reconciled to him, but we must be 
 much engaged in holy intercourse and communion with him. This is 
 the only method by which we can be enabled to take up our rest in him 
 in the time of need. Alasl it is because we make so little use of our 
 rest, that we are so often brought into doubt whether we have a title to 
 it; and thus exclude ourselves from its benefits, when the necessity of 
 them is most sensibly felt. Our souls fix and centre on God so seldom, 
 that they become inapt for the exercise. Yes, and the people of God, 
 sometimes look so much to the creature for their rest, that they feel 
 afraid and ashamed to look to Ciod for it, when the creature fails; and 
 they have to pass through a deeply humbling process, before they 
 can get back to their rest. Let us see the importance, then, of being- 
 familiar with this blessed rest, that we may be able to resort to it with 
 ease, when pressed by necessity. Let us earnestly endeavour to keep 
 our title to it clear and free from doubt. Let us, so to speak, often 
 
The Soul Resting in God, £3 
 
 travel the path which leads to it. Let it be the daily employment of 
 our souls to commune with God. Thus shall we be able speedily and 
 easily to fly to him as our rest on every emergency; and at all times 
 shall be entitled and enabled to appropriate and apply to ourselves the- 
 language of the text, with humble, holy confidence. 
 
 For the improvement of the subject, we may learn from it — 
 
 1. What is the precise difference between the righteous and the 
 wicked in this life, in point of enjoyment — The good man has a rest- 
 ing place for his soul, and the bad man has not. This is the line 
 which divides, and will forever divide, their portions, even in this 
 world. Nor is this an inconsiderable difference. It is, on the con- 
 trary, inconceivably great. A sense of unconditional safety; a refuge 
 in all seasons of distress; a subject of high, delightful, and satisfactory 
 contemplation; and a well-founded expectation of an eternal weight of 
 glory — This is now the portion of the sanctified man, and it is the por- 
 tion of no un sanctified man. 
 
 It is true, indeed, that pious men may have their glooms, their 
 doubts, and their fears; but these ultimately bring them more fully to 
 their rest, and even heighten by contrast the delights it affords. Their 
 seasons of darkness, therefore, are only like shades in a picture, which 
 increase on the whole the beauty of the piece. It is also true, we ad- 
 mit, that wicked men may, at present, sometimes forget their situa- 
 tion, be ignorant of their danger, enjoy the world, and indulge in its 
 pleasures. But this forge tfulness, it must also be remembered, only 
 enhances their misery, when a sense of their danger is forced upon 
 them. Then their pleasures are often converted into pains; and at the 
 best they can never satisfy the mind. They forever leave in it a dread- 
 ful, craving void. That great, permanent, soul-filling portion, which 
 confidence in the divine favour bestows, they never do or can possess. 
 Most pitiably, therefore, do impenitent sinners mistake, when they 
 suppose that to become religious would diminish their pleasure, and 
 destroy their happiness. Alas! without religion, they can never know 
 what true pleasure, what solid happiness is. Therefore, 
 
 2. Let me from this subject exhort those present who have hitherto 
 been looking to the world as the only source of their enjoyment, now 
 to seek it in a reconciliation with God through Jesus Christ. " Come 
 unto me, said the blessed Saviour, all ye that labour and are heavy 
 laden, and I will give you rest." Lovers of pleasures more than 
 lovers of God — why will you not listen to this invitation of the Sa- 
 viour? In your present pursuits, believe me, you are like the dove that 
 was sent forth by Noah. Direct your course as you may, there is no- 
 thing but troubled waters beneath you. Above the threatening billows, 
 you may indeed be borne for a short space, on the wings of excited 
 fancy and passion. But these deceptive pinions will not long sustain 
 you, they will soon droop and fail; and then, if you are excluded from 
 the ark of safety, you plunge and are lost forever in the bottomless abyss. 
 Listen, therefore,' to the voice of the Saviour, now inviting you to quit 
 your wanderings, and to take refuge, and find rest in him. Now, if you 
 will be obedient to his call — If abasing yourselves in the dust of humi- 
 lity for your sins; if imploring and receiving the aid of his good Spi- 
 rit, you truly renounce every false way, and rely on his merits, 
 righteousness, and intercession alone, for salvation, he will not reject 
 you; he will receive you into his favour, and will assuredly give you 
 rest — Rest from the torments of a guilty conscience; rest from the ty- 
 
24 The Character t Deception, Danger, and Duty, of those 
 
 ranny of your lusts; and at last, an eternal rest from all sin and all sor- 
 row, in the abodes of heavenly peace. 
 
 Finally — Although the rest which the people of God enjoy in him at 
 present, is derived, in great part, from the assurance of better things 
 to come, and although to this I have already made frequent references, 
 yet I cannot conclude this discourse without calling your undivided at- 
 tention, for a moment, to the apostolic declaration, that " there remain- 
 eth a rest for the people of God" — What they have at present, is only 
 an earnest, a foretaste, of what awaits them in a future state. In the pre- 
 sent life, tlieir sanctitication is imperfect; and hence their rest in God, 
 although it seems at times to antedate heaven, is, as we have seen, often 
 interrupted — The remainders of corruption operate to interrupt it; and 
 not only this, but the connexion of the soul with the body, will not ad- 
 mit of high and unbroken spiritual enjoyment. If the necessary con- 
 cerns of life did not, as they certainly do, prevent such enjoyment, the 
 human mind cannot at present endure a long continuance of that holy 
 excitement which is its inseparable attendant. In view of these causes 
 of the interruption and imperfection to which the spiritual repose and 
 felicity of the believer is subject, while he dwells in the body, the apos- 
 tle, in the words I have quoted, speaks of a rest which remaineth — 
 speaks as if what is enjoyed here, is so inferior to that which is to be 
 possessed hereafter, that the present is hardly worthy of the name; it 
 is a rest J but it is not the rest, which shall be known in the mansions 
 above. Yes, beloved brethren in the Lord, such is unquestionably the 
 fact. The grace of God has opened in your souls " a well of living 
 water;" the water is "springing up," but it has not yet reached, to 
 " life everlasting." You have at present only a prelibation — compara- 
 tively only a drop, and that not an unmingled drop — of " the rivers of 
 pleasure" which flow at God's right hand — 
 
 " There you shall bathe your weary soul 
 
 In seas of heavenly rest; 
 And not a wave of sorrow roll 
 
 Across your peaceful breast." 
 
 Let this glorious prospect soothe every sorrow; dry every weeping 
 eye; put the world under your feet; animate you in the cause of God; 
 and till you with a holy, but well-regulated desire, to depart, and to be 
 with Christ. There you Avill know that " far better" rest, and those ce- 
 lestial joys, which eye hath not seen; of which no mortal ear hath 
 heard, and of which an adequate conception hath never entered an un- 
 glorified spirit. Amen. 
 
 SERMOIT. 
 
 THE CHARACTER, DECEPTION, DANGER AND DUTY, OF THOSE 
 WHO HAVE HEARD, AND HAVE NOT OBEYED THE WORD OF 
 GOD. 
 
 James i. 22, 23, 24. — " But be ye doers of the word and not hearers only, deceiving 
 your own solves. For if any man be a hearer of the word, and not a doer, he is like 
 unto a man beholding his natural face in a glass. For he beholdeth himself and 
 goeth his way, and straightway forgetteth what manner of man he was." 
 
 The apostle James seems to have written his epistle, with the ex- 
 press design of reproving the primitive Christians, for that degree of 
 degeneracy which, even then, had appeared in the church; and of cor- 
 
who have heard, and have not obeyed, the Word of God* 25 
 
 reeling a number of errors, into which the hearers of the gospel had 
 ah-eady fallen. Among these errors, he soon proceeds to notice a mis- 
 taken and faulty manner of attending on the word of God. His obser^ 
 vations and admonitions on this subject are extended through several 
 verses, beside those on which I am now to discourse. But these con- 
 tain the substance of the whole — The rest of his remarks on this topic, 
 are but the extension and explanation of what seems to be embodied in 
 the text. 
 
 In the verses before us, I shall take the liberty, which it is often 
 necessary to take, in considering detached passages of scripture, of 
 transposing the order in which the clauses or sentences are arranged, 
 so as to favour the main object of the discourse. This object, in the 
 present address, is clearly expressed in the first of the three verses, 
 which have been read — " Be ye doers of the word and not hearers only.'* 
 But in order to explain and inculcate it the better, and to guard against 
 certain common and dangerous errors, I propose to consider, pre- 
 viously, the remarks which the apostle subjoins to the first precept. 
 My distribution then shall be this — 
 
 I. I will point your attention to the nature of that conduct which is 
 at once explained and condemned in the words — "If any man be a 
 hearer of the word, and not a doer, he is like unto a man beholding his 
 natural face in a glass. For he beholdeth himself, and goeth his way, 
 and straightway forgetteth what manner of man he was." 
 
 II. Notice the deception, which is frequently both the occasion and 
 the consequence of the conduct described 5 and which is referred to in 
 the words — " deceiving your own selves," and — 
 
 III. Endeavour to enforce the result of the whole, expressed in the 
 ^vords — " Be ye doers of the word and not hearers only." 
 
 I. We begin with considering the nature of that conduct which is 
 at once explained and condemned in the words — "If any man be a 
 hearer of the word, and not a doer, he is like unto a man beholding his 
 natural face in a glass. For he beholdeth himself, and goeth his way, 
 and straightway forgetteth what manner of man he was." We have, 
 in this expression, a very natural and lively description of a character, 
 too often realized, in some of those who are favoured with the preaching 
 of the gospel. You may have observed, my brethren, among those who 
 resort to the public exercises of the sanctuary, an individual, whose cha- 
 racter, as an attendant there, may, without material error, be delineated 
 thus — He is a frequenter, perhaps a diligent frequenter, of the house 
 of God; and while present, he attends with careful, it may be with cri- 
 tical ears, to the dispensation of divine truth. To a preacher who has 
 occasion and skill to delineate characters with justness and accuracy, 
 he listens, even with pleasure and delight. He hears his own character 
 described, and scrutinizes the description. He enters into the justness 
 of the representation, and sees himself — beholds his true character, 
 as he beholds his natural face in a glass. He is conscious that his con- 
 dition, his practices, and his prospects, are fairly and truly pourtrayed, 
 in all their discriminating features, and natural aspect. In short, he is 
 sensible, for the time, what sort of a man he really is — what he ought to 
 appear in his own eyes, and what he actually appears in the eyes of God. 
 But this is only a transient view. " He goeth his way, and straightway 
 forgetteth what manner of man he was." The impressions he has re- 
 ceived, are hardly more lasting than the sound of the words which pro- 
 duced them. They pass from his mind as speedily, and with as little 
 effect, as the imap:e of an object, received from a mirror, passes from 
 D 
 
26 The Character, Deception, Danger and Duty, of those. 
 
 the eye, when it is turned to another direction. If he ever afterwards 
 reflects upon it, and indeed even while he is immediately beholdint^ it, 
 he entertains no purpose of correcting what he observes amiss. He 
 is occupied only in amusing his fancy, or in exercising his under- 
 standing and judgment. He perhaps admires and commends the skill 
 of the moral painter, praises his knowledge of the human mind and 
 character, and his talent for exhibiting them in a natural and striking 
 light. But the whole effect produced upon him is, to give him that 
 kind of interest and gratification which is always felt, when we see or 
 hear a representation, which is a just copy of nature. It is a mere 
 piece of entertainment, which pleases him for the present, but makes 
 no lasting impression on his heart, and produces no change in his life 
 and practice. 
 
 Sometimes, indeed, the effect which is produced is a little more pow- 
 erful and permanent. The word of God is a glass which represents 
 the odiousness and deformity of sin and sinners, in such an aggravated 
 and shocking light, that he who fairly sees them, as they there appear, 
 and is conscious that the likeness is his own, can scarcely avoid feeling 
 some uneasiness at the view — Just as he who beholds his natural face 
 in a glass, if he observe it to be deformed or distorted, is displeased 
 with the appearance, regrets that it is such as it is, and feels mortified 
 and perhaps humbled at the sight. Thus the sinner, viewing himself 
 in the glass of God's law, may for the time be much dissatisfied with 
 his appearance, experience regret, and feel a degree of shame and hu- 
 miliation. But the event of both cases is the same. The man who is 
 naturally uncomely, as soon as his eye is turned from the mirror, wil- 
 lingly forgets what he there beheld. The very fact that the view was 
 disagreeable, is the reason why he endeavours to exclude it from his 
 mind and memory. In the mean time, the things which are of ill ap- 
 pearance, being natural, sit easily upon him. He is not sensible of the 
 aspect which they bear in the view of others, and is soon as perfectly 
 reconciled to himself, as if he were ever so comely, and pleasing in his 
 appearance. In like manner, he who is morally deformed, with equal 
 industry, and with infinitely more criminality, (for to rise superior to 
 natural blemishes is rather a virtue than a vice) endeavours to forget 
 what manner of man he is. He turns the attention of his mind from 
 his own character, because it gives him pain to behold it — He hates to 
 behold it, and is soon successful in his endeavours to forget its odious 
 qualities, and becomes as easy and contented, in the possession of it, 
 as if he did not possess, and had never seen it. 
 
 Such, my hearers, is the representation of the apostle; and such a 
 character your own observation, and it is likely the personal experience 
 of some of you, has proved to be real. Let me urge you to question 
 yourselves honestly and closely on this matter. Are not some of you 
 who now hear me, conscious to yourselves that you have exemplified, 
 and are still exemplifying, the character which has been exhibited 
 before you? Have not some of you, at certain times, seen that what 
 has been said in the preaching of the word was a fair and just repre- 
 sentation of your own fearful character and prospects.^ Have you not 
 been sensible that you were the very persons depicted, as being in 
 a state truly and affectingly wretched? And yet, have you not gone 
 away from this view of yourselves without any amendment ? Have 
 you not speedily forgotten it, in the business or pleasures of the 
 world; and continued to possess the same kind of character, with as 
 little concern, and as little reformation, as if you had not seen your 
 
who have heardy and have not obeyed, the Word of God, 27 
 
 moral deformity, and your offensiveness in the eyes of a holy God? Let 
 your consciences speak, and bear witness to the truth. Be reminded 
 also, that those who must plead guilty in this matter, to the challenges 
 of conscience, have probably been the subjects of that deception, which 
 I have proposed to consider in the 
 
 II. Division of this discourse, and which is referred to by the apos- 
 tle, in the words "deceiving your own selves." 
 
 The evident import of this expression, from the connexion which it 
 has with what precedes it, is, that there are many instances of persons 
 who seem to imagine, or who act as if they imagined, that the whole 
 design of hearing the word of God, was answered merely by hearing 
 it, or by those transient emotions which have just been described — 
 "Be ye doers of the word, says the apostle, and not hearers only, de- 
 ceiving your own selves" — As if he had said, "Do not content your- 
 selves with barely listening to what is addressed to you. Do not de- 
 ceive yourselves, as too often happens, by supposing that the whole 
 purpose of preaching the gospel is obtained, if during the time of your 
 attendance on it, you make it a point to observe diligently what is said. 
 Who ever believes that this will satisfy the demands of Christian duty, 
 is grossly deceived, and imposes on himself in the most dangerous 
 TOianner." 
 
 There seem to be several degrees of this deception; but in one de- 
 gree or another, it is a common, and almost universal fault, among no- 
 minal Christians. The highest degree of this evil is seen in those who 
 make it, deliberately, a part of their creed, that going to church, at- 
 tending to what they hear, and reading their bibles, constitutes them 
 good Christians, and places them in the safe path to heaven; though 
 their hearts are not renewed and sanctified, nor their lives altered and 
 reformed. Unaccountable as such a conduct and creed may appear, 
 (and it is not easy to conceive of any thing which is more so) yet this 
 absurdity is not unfrequently witnessed in real life. Whoever has paid 
 a careful attention to those, who, in some form or other, seek to sup- 
 port a religious character, may have seen men who are even conscien- 
 tiously scrupulous in attending on almost every external rite of reli- 
 gion — are regular in reading and in hearing the word of life — value 
 themselves on this character — are even displeased if the truth be not 
 told them plainly — or if it be softened or disguised, so as not to deal a 
 severe and home reproof to the wicked — and who most commend the 
 preacher, from whom they receive the warmest and most pointed rebuke 
 — and yet these very men continue from week to week, in the undisturb- 
 ed practice of those very sins, which they hear censured, and which they 
 would be much dissatisfied, if they did not hear censured. They seem 
 to think that the whole of their obligations are discharged by hearing 
 themselves reprimanded and condemned, and by making it a point of 
 conscience to do so. What an infatuation! that men should deceive 
 themselves so egregiously, as to imagine that there should be any other 
 end in view in hearing truth, but to be prepared for acting; that it is 
 of any avail to receive reproof, if the reproof be never complied with. 
 Such, however, is the blindness of human folly — such is the decep- 
 tion of the human heart. 
 
 But, my hearers, that which I have just described, although it be the 
 most flagrant, is, by no means, the most frequent species of the decep- 
 tion which the text contemplates. When thus gross and deliberate, it 
 is usually, I think, connected with great ignorance of the true princi- 
 ples of all religion. But there is a kind of self-deception which exists 
 
28 The Character, Deception, Danger and Duty, of those 
 
 even in enlightened minds, in regard to this subject. It exists, indeed, 
 rather in the heart, than in the understanding — It proceeds rather from 
 inattention, than deliberation; more from a reluctance to realize the 
 truth, than from an ignorance or perversion of it. How numerous are 
 the instances of those, who are not reformed by the reading or the 
 preaching of the word of God, who nevertheless would be uneasy, if they 
 did not read and hear it? Nay, how numerous are those, who seem to 
 be quite satisfied with themselves, because they have attended on the 
 public administrations of religion, though they have not corrected one 
 error, which in their attendance they have heard reproved? Proceed- 
 ing still a little farther, how great indeed is the number of those who 
 give themselves much credit, at least, for having gone to church, al- 
 though they return from it, forgetting entirely what manner of men 
 ihey are. Having accustomed themselves to consider it as a duty — 
 which no doubt it is — to go up to the sanctuary of God, where social 
 acts of devotion are performed, and where the word of eternal life is 
 dispensed, and prone to flatter themselves that the slightest regard to 
 duty, is the performance of the whole — they make their very bodily 
 presence in a place of public worship, answer all the demands of God 
 and conscience. My dear hearers, this is not representing things 
 worse than they are — It is a matter of constant experience, that from 
 some cause, whatever it be, the greater part of those who enjoy the 
 light of the gospel, go the round of attending on public worship with- 
 out benefit. How are we to account for this? After assigning to other 
 causes, whatever may be their due, much, I verily believe, must still be 
 charged to a kind of vague and unexamined notion, to a practical self- 
 deception, that they are doing very well, while they are thus found in 
 the way of duty, as they often express it. They attend upon church 
 whenever it is practicable; they do not allow themselves in the neglect 
 of it; they are careful to listen to what is said; they, sometimes at least, 
 read their bibles; and they think that this is a great part of religion. 
 " It is better, certainly, they say, than not attending at all. If we are 
 not doing well, what is to become of those who show no regard to reli- 
 gion?" Far be from me, my hearers, the invidious and unchristian 
 office of representing men in a character which they do not deserve. 
 Far be from me a wish to deprive any one of the praise of well doing, 
 so far as he merits it. Were it a safe expression, I would be willing 
 to say, that they who read and hear the word of (iod, act better than 
 they who do not. I do say, that it manifests a less decided hostility to 
 the gospel — that it is treating it with more respect and courtesy, to 
 only listen to its admonitions, than entirely to neglect and despise 
 them. Those who hear, keep themselves within the reach of benefit 
 and advantage. But what consolation, 1 pray you, will it afford you at 
 the last, to have constantly heard the sound of the gospel, if you have 
 never obeyed it? What benefit to have kept within the reach of mercy, 
 if you have never obtained mercy? Beside, you ought to recollect, that 
 by hearing the gospel, your duty is constantly set before you; and that 
 your final Judge has declared, that " the servant who knew his Lord's 
 will and did it not, shall be beaten with many stripes." Hence I inti- 
 mated that it is not safe, to say that one ruinous course is better than 
 another. One may not be as bad as another; because not involving so 
 great an enormity of guilt, and because the prospect of a change may 
 not be so utterly hopeless. But 1 hold all comparisons of this kind to 
 be improper, because th'ey commonly lead to dangerous practical con- 
 sequences. Do but suffer the mind to esteem itself less guilty than 
 
who have heard, and have not obeyed, the Word of God. £9 
 
 something with which it compares itself, and self-love will be likely 
 soon to persuade it, that it is not far from being innocent, or even meri- 
 torious. Tell an unsanctitied man that he is much more excusable, or 
 in a much safer state than another, and there is reason to apprehend 
 that he will soon persuade himself that he is in no danger at all. This 
 is the very root of the evil which I am seeking to eradicate. Those 
 who show some external respect to divine institutions, frequently grow 
 into a kind of practical belief that they are entirely safe. Not careful, 
 and not willing, because secretly afraid, to examine whether they have 
 received any saving benefit from the dispensation of revealed truth, they 
 come, under the influence of self-flattery and self-love, to take the form 
 of duty for the substance, the means of grace for the thing itself. Not 
 indeed that they do deliberately indulge this opinion; but they act and 
 are as easy as if they did. 
 
 "What then — an offended objector may say — what are the demands 
 of religion? Shall we never be able to act in a manner that will ex- 
 empt us from censure.^ Shall we never adopt a line of conduct that 
 vrill satisfy the advocates of religion.^" Yes, my friends, you shall sa- 
 tisfy us completely, when you are obedient to the precept of the textj 
 when you become "doers of the word, and not hearers only." 
 
 III. This is the last, the important point, which — " whether you will 
 hear, or whether you will forbear"— I must endeavour to inculcate. The 
 reasonableness of the injunction of the Holy Spirit, here promulged by 
 the apostle James, needs not be shown by any extended train of argu- 
 ment or illustration. "Be ye doers of the word and not hearers only," 
 is a command as obviously consonant to reason, as that means are use- 
 less, if they fail of the end for which alone they are employed. Hear- 
 ing is but the means of action. Instruction is ever in order to practice 
 — And why, in religion, would you institute a rule, or be chargeable 
 with a procedure, which you would be ashamed to apply to any other 
 subject, or follow out in any other business.^ Let me then urge on the 
 heart and conscience of all who hear me, a duty, the obligation of 
 which no one can deny. Let me entreat you to guard carefully against 
 the evils which were exposed in the beginning of this address. Be- 
 ware that the views which religion gives you of yourselves do not 
 pass from your minds, like an image from the eye. Beware that you 
 do not consider religious instruction and discourse, merely in the light 
 of amusement or entertainment, or as a subject only for speculation or 
 criticism. Beware that you are not more attentive to please your fancy, 
 or even to improve your knowledge, than to mend your hearts. When 
 you hear a lively description of the evil of sin, and of the depravity of 
 the human heart, remember, I solemnly admonish you, that you — you 
 and I— are the very persons who are chargeable with this evil, and la- 
 bouring under this depravity. Rememl)er that we are the men who must 
 be humbled into the very dust under a sense of our guilt — That we are 
 the parties who must have the pardon of this sin, and the correction of 
 this depravity, by the grace of God in our hearts, and have it speedily, 
 or incur that awful punishment which is its due. Let every hearer 
 examine, as under the eye of the heart-searching God, how these mat- 
 ters stand with himself. Let every hearer avoid distributing to others 
 what belongs to himself; and to himself let him take it. Let him con- 
 sider all that is said as aimed at the heart and practice. When you 
 find yourselves addressed, let the address enter into your very souls, 
 and be as it were a rule to measure your desert, and a faithful monitor 
 to tell you what must be amended. Let every sentence be as an index, 
 
so Tlie Character, Deception, Danger and Duty, of those 
 
 pointing to some duty, or some consideration, and saying — " this is the 
 duty "which you are now to perform, this is the consideration which 
 you are now to regard. These are the things which you are not only 
 to hear but to do^ these are the things which you are to do, not at ano- 
 ther time, but the present; these are the things which you must not let 
 depart from your minds, till you have performed them; these are the 
 things for which you are to account, before the Judge of quick and 
 dead; these are the things which must be done, if you would have any 
 rational ground to expect the salvation of your souls." 
 
 To urge yourselves to the duty thus laid before you, think seriously, 
 how great is the sin of forgetfulness and neglect, which is so common; 
 and how high the account of many of you must already have risen, 
 from this circumstance. For thus saith the Lord — " Because I have 
 called and ye refused; I have stretched out my hand and no man re- 
 garded: But ye have set at nought all my counsel, and would none of 
 my reproof: 1 also will laugh at your calamity; I will mock when your 
 fear cometh. When your fear cometh as desolation and your destruc- 
 tion Cometh as a whirlwind; when distress and anguish cometh upon 
 you: Then shall they call upon me, but I will not answer; they shall 
 seek me early but they shall not find me: For that they hated know- 
 ledge, and did not choose the fear of the Lord: They would none of 
 my counsel; they despised all my reproof: Therefore shall they eat of 
 the fruit of their own way, and be filled with their own devices." May 
 these, my beloved hearers — may these be the consequences that may 
 follow from hearing the word of God without doing it? May a perse- 
 verance in this wicked folly bring you to a time when you may call 
 with ineffectual importunity? May it bring you to a time when the day 
 of doing shall be past forever? Most assuredly it may; for this is the 
 genuine spirit of the representation you have now heard from the ora- 
 cles of God. You may be left to judicial hardness of heart, till, on the 
 near approach of your final doom, your eyes may be opened on all the 
 horrors of your situation; and your cries for mercy may be too late to 
 avail for yourselves, and only serve as an awful warning to others, not 
 to follow in the path which leads to hopeless perdition. 
 
 Do not flatter yourselves, I most earnestly pray you, that your course 
 cannot possibly lead to the tremendous termination now presented to 
 your view, because your sins, as you think, are only of the omissive 
 kind — " You are not, you will perhaps say — you never have been, infidel 
 blasphemers; you have never spoken against or rejected the gospel of 
 Christ. Nay, you have honoured the institutions of religion; you have 
 pleaded for their usefulness and importance; you have attended care- 
 fully on the preaching of the word; and all that can be said is, that you 
 have not yielded your hearts and your lives to its spiritual and practical 
 requirements." I will take you then on the ground of your own choos- 
 ing. I will say nothing of the ten thousand actual transgressions of God's 
 holy law; from which you know that your lives and hearts have not 
 been free. I will speak of nothing but of your refusal to obey the sin- 
 gle command of Christ — his command, to believe in him with all the 
 heart to the saving of your souls, with its corresponding course of ac- 
 tion. Now I put it to your consciences — is it a light matter to neglect 
 a salvation provided at the expense of the ineffable agonies, the incon- 
 ceivable sufferings, the unutterably awful death, of the Son of God? Is 
 there no aggravation in the guilt of refusing to consult your own eter- 
 nal well being? — in refusing the felicities of heaven, and obstinately 
 pursuing the path that leads to hell? Is eternal self-destruction, when 
 
who have heavdy and have not obeyed, the Word of God. SI 
 
 it is the known consequence of neglect, no crime? My interrogatives 
 answer themselves justly; and your consciences, if not utterly callous, 
 must answer them; and the gospel answers them most awfully. Unbelief 
 — a negative sin — is, by special designation and emphasis, the damning 
 sin of the gospel. And if you will look through the whole gospel — the 
 mild gospel of Jesus Christ — you will find that the most frequent and 
 alarming denunciations are pronounced against mere omissions. Its 
 divine author knew that there would be thousands, and ten thousands, 
 of the hearers of the gospel, who would lose their souls by neglect, 
 whose consciences might be shocked by the commission of an acknow- 
 ledged and flagitious crime; and who nevertheless would inake no ac- 
 count of omitted duties, and who would even esteem themselves good 
 Christians, because they were not reproachful sinners. This therefore 
 was the pass to destruction, which the Holy Ghost was specially careful 
 to guard, and to set up a beacon of warning at its very entrance. Hence 
 we find the denunciation or threatening, again and again pronounced — 
 not against the tree that bore bad fruit, but against the tree that bore 
 NO fruit; not against the lamp that had bad oil, but against the lamp that 
 had NO oil; not against the servant who wasted his Lord's talent, but 
 against the servant who made no profit of his talent. Hence also the 
 appeal of the apostle, in a question too big with meaning to be answered 
 in words — "How shall we escape, if we neglect so great salvation?" 
 Hence, in fine, the last solemn sentence, in the day of final retribution, 
 is represented by our Saviour himself, as turning wholly on neglected 
 duties — not a single positive act of transgression is contained in the 
 whole award; it is filled up with charges of omissions — " I was an 
 hungered, and ye gave me 7io meat; I was thirsty, and ye gave me no 
 drink; I was a stranger, and ye took me not in; naked and ye clothed 
 me not^ sick and in prison, and ye visited me not." And what, my 
 dear hearers, would be the sentence that might be formed on this plan, 
 in regard to your improvement of the word of life.^ — How would it run, 
 if the Judge should now erect his tribunal in this church, and call you 
 to his bar? Ah! to how many would it be said — Ye heardy but ye did 
 not. Ye understood, but ye did not practice. You saw yourselves to be 
 guilty, but you did not amend. You viewed yourselves as endangered, 
 but you did not seek for safety. You were instructed in your duty, but 
 you would not perform it. You heard sermons, but you did not im- 
 prove them. You attended the worship of God, but you were not bene- 
 fited. You were entreated to consider your ways, but you would not 
 consider. You were exhorted to embrace the Saviour, but you would 
 710/ yield to the exhortation. You were enjoined immediately to begin 
 the work of reformation, but you would not regard the injunction. You 
 were faithfully told that you were in danger of perishing, but you would 
 not credit it. You were solemnly admonished that you would never 
 find a more favourable opportunity than that which existed, to turn 
 unto God, but you did not heed it. Since, therefore, you have been 
 instructed, and urged, and entreated, and long forborne with, and did 
 
 not to the last believe and repent — therefore "depart" O most 
 
 merciful Saviour! let not this sentence fall on any whom I now ad- 
 dress. Help me, Lord, so to warn them, and do thou so bless the warn- 
 ing, that they may never hear thee say to them, "Depart ye cursed into 
 everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels." 
 
 But I tell you, delaying and disregarding sinners — in very faithful- 
 ness to your souls and to my own, I tell you — the awful sentence you 
 have just heard, will go forth against you, in the judgment of the 
 
32 The Character, Deception, Danger and Ditty, Sfc. 
 
 great day, if you continue to hear the word of God, and do it not. 
 Most solemnly, therefore, I now warn you of your danger, and counsel 
 you to beware. In the name of Him who will judge both you and me, 
 I charge you to trifle no longer. Remember and write it on your 
 hearts, that hearing is in order to doing. Remember that the most at- 
 tentive and frequent hearing will avail you nothing, unless you become 
 doers of the word. Remember that though you are entertained in 
 hearing, though you are advocates for hearing, though you commend 
 the word that you hear, though you admire and are delighted with the 
 word preached, if you are not doers of that word, it shall profit you 
 nothing. Remember that though you were to hear a sermon every 
 day; though an angel from heaven were the preacher, and the elo- 
 quence of Michael were the strain in which you were addressed; yet if 
 you were not doers of the word, it would profit you nothing. Nothing, 
 nothing but doing the will of God, will fulfil your obligations, and end in 
 the salvation of your souls. 
 
 All that remains for me then, is once more to lay before you the sum 
 of your duty, and obtest you, while you feel the force of this subject — 
 if you do in any measure feel it — to be not only the hearers but the do- 
 ers of God's word. I lay before you therefore, that it is your immediate 
 duty to humble yourselves deeply in the sight of God, on account of 
 your depravity, and your innumerable actual sins; to turn, with un- 
 feigned repentance and brokenness of heart, unto God; to cast your- 
 selves on his sovereign mercy, abounding through the atoning sacrifice 
 and infinite merits of the Lord Jesus Christ; and to devote yourselves, 
 henceforth, entirely to his service. This is the sum of your duty, and 
 this is the word which now you hear — Look that ye be doers of this 
 word, and not hearers only. Do you ask me for some detail.'' Well 
 then, I lay before you, that it is your immediate duty to pray earnestly, 
 and perseveringly lo God, that he would give you a new heart, and 
 never to be satisfied till this prayer be granted. You are now the hear- 
 ers of this word: by the worth of your souls I entreat you to be the 
 doers also. I lay before you, that it is your immediate and constant 
 duty, to cultivate by watchfulness and prayer, a humble, believing, and 
 holy temper of mind, constantly imploring, and constantly depending 
 on the divine aid, to render you successful. This is the word which 
 now sounds in your ears; and by the value of heaven, and the fear of 
 hell, I affectionately and importunately urge you to be the doers, the 
 immediate doers, of what you hear — With these solemn monitions, en- 
 treaties, and appeals, I close my address; and I do it under all but an 
 overwhelming recollection, that in the day of dread decision, when I 
 shall stand to be judged with you — I for my fidelity in warning you, 
 and you for the manner in which you regard the warning — it will ap- 
 pear, who of you have heard to the saving of your souls; and who, 
 having finally refused to do what they hear, shall be adjudged to the 
 prison of eternal despair. 
 
The Incalculable Worth of the Soul 
 
 SERMOir. 
 
 THE INCALCULABLE WORTH OF THE SOUL. 
 
 Matt. xvi. 20. — " For what is a man profited if he shall gain the whole world and lose 
 his own soul.'' or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul.-"' 
 
 These words were addressed by our Saviour to his disciples, as an 
 admonition against the folly of forsaking him, on account of any dan- 
 ger or difficulty which an adherence to his cause might induce. He 
 had reminded them that to save, or to prolong their mortal life, by 
 apostatizing from him, would prove in the event the greatest loss, as 
 it would preclude them from an eternal life beyond the grave: And 
 that, on the other hand, if by an inflexible attachment to him, they 
 should subject themselves to death itself, their gain would be im- 
 mense; as the death of the body would immediately introduce them to 
 a happy and unending existence in heaven, as the reward of their fide- 
 lity. Having clearly held forth these important ideas in the context, 
 he gives them, in the words on which I discourse, a weighty and pow- 
 erful enforcement, by putting two questions, the answers to which are 
 obvious, and yet so overwhelming as to forbid expression — As if he had 
 said — " What will it profit a man though he gain the whole world, if 
 he lose his soul in getting it? Or if he barter away his soul, what will 
 he give in exchange for it, that it may be restored to him again?" 
 
 In discoursing on these interrogatories of our Saviour, a real difficulty 
 arises, from the circumstance that they contain truth so plain as almost to 
 preclude illustration, and so important as to render enforcement seem- 
 ingly superfluous, if not disadvantageous. This, perhaps, would truly be 
 the case, if lamentable experience did not teach us, that our meditations 
 are apt to be desultory, wandering, slight and superficial, in regard 
 even to the most interesting topics of a spiritual kind, and there- 
 fore have much need of something to fix and deepen them. The 
 preaching of the word is the instituted ordinance by which this effect 
 is usually produced, even when that which is delivered is neither novel 
 as to the matter discussed, nor striking as to the form in which it is 
 presented. Let me then entreat you to go along with me into a train 
 of serious thinking, on the familiar but important truths which the 
 passage before us suggests — lifting up your souls to God for the aids 
 of his grace, that our meditations may be richly blessed to our spiritual 
 edification — " What shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole 
 world and lose his own soul? or what shall a man give in exchange for 
 his soul?" 
 
 It is the evident intention of these solemn questions, to call our 
 attention to a comparison between the value of the soul, and that of any 
 other possession or consideration, for which it may be excl\anged or 
 lost; and to induce us to make and act upon a just view and estimate of 
 this great concern. I see no method of treating them, therefore, more 
 proper than to consider dictinctly — 
 
 I. The value of the soul: Or to show rather, that it is altogether 
 invaluable, and incapable of having an adequate price set upon it. 
 
 II. That it must, of course, be unspeakable folly to exchange it for 
 any consideration or possession whatsoever, on account of which it 
 may be sacrificed: And 
 
 III. To apply and improve the subject. 
 
 On each of these points I shall detain you but a few minutes; but 
 O! that they may be minutes of close and solemn attention. 
 E 
 
54 The Incalculable f forth of the SouL 
 
 1. We are to consider the value of the soul: Or to show, rather, 
 that it is altogether invaluable. 
 
 We must begin here with an idea hinted at in the text, and which is 
 distinctly staled by one of the evangelists by whom it is recorded. The 
 idea is, that the soul of man is himself.^ and consequently that nothing 
 else can be equally precious to its possessor, however it may be esti- 
 mated by others, or whatever may be its value in itself. The word 
 which is here rendered soul, is in the original the same which, in the 
 preceding verses, is rendered life; and it appears that the text, in this 
 view, had become proverbial among the Jews. When they wished to 
 express the palpable and gross absurdity of giving, as the price of any 
 proposed good, the very capacity of possessing and enjoying it, they 
 said — " W^hat will it profit a man to gain the whole world by the loss 
 of his life?" Our Lord, probably alluding to this proverb, and using 
 the word that signified life to denote the sold, or the principle of life 
 itself, which the language in which he spoke fully allowed, gave a spi- 
 ritual turn and application to the adage, and accommodated it to his 
 purpose with great energy and beauty. He urged them, and he urges 
 us, to think of the indescribable folly of those, who for the sake of 
 grasping at the fleeting shadow of a world, subject themselves by the 
 very act to the total perdition of their souls — of souls which, being once 
 lost, the losers can neither enjoy the object for which they gave them, 
 nor recall the act by which they bartered them away. If it would be, 
 as I am sure you would think it, a trifling with your understandings, 
 to enter into a formal argument to prove that a man must be literally 
 beside himself, who should deliberately sell his soul, though he actu- 
 ally obtained the whole world in stipulating for its price — think, then, I 
 beseech you, how severe is the censure which this very circumstance in- 
 flicts on the greater part of mankind, who are actually and constantly 
 doing a thing, which is too man«ifestly and awfully absurd to justify ar- 
 gument or admit of illustration. The fact, alas! is incapable of de- 
 nial — Indeed I can scarcely think without horror, on the probability 
 that many of those who now hear me, are concerned in this shocking 
 traflic of giving tlie^nselves for the offers of the world — Giving their 
 souls to the world, and therefore giving XhQvafor it; so that if this co- 
 venant with death be not speedily broken, final, irretrievable perdition, 
 must be the consequence. For " the fiiendship of the world is enmity 
 with God; whosoever therefore will be the friend of the world is the 
 enemy of God." 
 
 2. The incalculable worth of the soul appears from the price which 
 was paid for its redemption. 
 
 Is it not probable, brethren, that this consideration was in the view 
 of the Saviour, when he pronounced the text? Being himself the Cre- 
 ator of the world, and the Redeemer of the soul, he knew the value of 
 both — He knew that the v/orld was made by a word; but that to save 
 the human soul it behooved him to come from heaven to earth, and to 
 lay down his life as a ransom ibr it. \>rily this is a thought that de- 
 serves to be most seriously pondered by us. It is indeed true, that 
 the exhibition of the divine glory before the whole intelligent creation, 
 is the ultimate purpose of the Deity in all his works. But this cir- 
 cumstance takes nothing from any representation which can be made 
 of the importance of man's redemption, as it is argued from the me- 
 thod in which it was effected — The circumstance rather adds weight 
 to the argument. It shows that the salvation of a number of our lost 
 race, was an event so intimately and essentially connected with the 
 
TJie Incalculable Worth of the SouL 35 
 
 highest of all possible objects, the glory of God, that infinite wisdom 
 determined to provide for it, even at all that amazing expense which 
 the attainment of it required, a.nd which it actually cost. Remember 
 then, dear brethren, that " We were not redeemed with corruptible 
 things, as silver and gold — but with the precious blood of Christ." 
 Consider whatever could be done or endured by the eternal Son of God, 
 " the brightness of his Father's glory and the express image of his 
 person," as a matter of price or worth; and then search your imagi- 
 nations for another object of equal value. Consider the humiliation of 
 such a great and glorious being, his assuming " the form of a servant, 
 and becoming a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief" — Consi- 
 der him as persecuted, despised, insulted, and derided, while "found 
 in the likeness of sinful flesh" — Consider him as having heaven, earth 
 and hell set against him; so that in his agonizing conflict " he sweat 
 great drops of blood falling down to the ground; and exclaiming on 
 the cross, " My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" — Consi- 
 der him, at last, as dying with the vilest malefactors, and himself re- 
 presented as the greatest of all — While you consider these things, im.a- 
 gine that you were ignorant of the plan of redemption, and were called 
 on to point out an object, or a purpose, worthy to be achieved by such a 
 treatment of the Son of God — Would you be able to name it? Would 
 you dare to say that you judged it proper that the Author of all things 
 should give himself in this manner for any of his works, or for all of 
 them collectively? You would not — you ought not. Yet oh! the sove- 
 reign mercy and compassion of the Redeemer! — Having the right 
 to do it, he has — may I so express it! — outbidden all our estimates, 
 hopes and expectations, and set this very price en the human soul. 
 Though he was himself to pay the ransom, he set it thus high, and he 
 discharged it. He actually gave himself to all the dreadful sufferings 
 we have contemplated, that our immortal spirits might not be lost. A 
 judge perfectly qualified and competent, has thus fixed the value of our 
 souls, at a higher mark than our own conceptions, when challenged to 
 the effort, could otherwise have reached. Infinitely, therefore, do we 
 undervalue them, when we give them for any created object — Nay, the 
 whole m.aterial creation is but the dust of the balance, when brought 
 into this competition: For the Creator hath given himself for us — It is 
 the language of Scripture — " He gave himself for us, that he might 
 redeem us from all iniquity, and purify unto himself a peculiar people 
 zealous of good works." 
 
 3. The inestimable worth of the soul appears also, from its immor- 
 tal nature, and the happiness or misery of which it must be the subject 
 throughout eternity. To this consideration there has been necessarily 
 an implied reference in the former particulars, but as the weight of 
 the text rests upon it, let it now command our direct and undivided 
 attention. 
 
 That thinking principle, my brethren, by which you now attend to 
 this subject, — that power within you, which enables you to apprehend, 
 reason and judge; which makes you the subjects of joy and sorrow, of 
 hope and fear, of hatred and love, of every emotion, affection or pas- 
 sion which you feel; — that thinking principle, in every individual who 
 hears me, will live and act for ever. Never, never, will it cease to 
 operate. You cannot look forward to the period when it will be no 
 more — Make the attempt. Task your imagination to the utmost, and 
 fix a point as far off* as you can in the endless region of futurity. 
 Over the whole space which divides the present moment from that dis- 
 
36 The Jncalculahle Wm-th of the SouL 
 
 tant point, each of our souls will actually pass. There we shall at 
 length arrive, and there eternity will still be all before us. Then will 
 this conscious spirit which each of us now feels within him, be even 
 more vigorous and active than at present. We cannot extinguish it, 
 though we were desirous of its annihilation. It cannot terminate its 
 own existence, and no other creature can destroy it. God formed it 
 for immortality, and as long as God himself exists, so long shall you 
 and I, my hearers, continue our existence. 
 
 But this is not all. Our existence is not only to remain, but we are, 
 very soon, to change the mode of it, in a very interesting manner. We 
 are here placed in a kind of mixed state. We experience alternate re- 
 turns of pleasure and pain, and yet we experience neither in the high- 
 est degree. But when we pass — as pass we speedily must — the bounds 
 of this mortal life, pleasure and pain, happiness and misery, will be 
 no longer mingled together. They will be entirely separated, and in 
 each of our souls there will be nothing but happiness, or nothing but 
 misery, to all eternity — Nay, it is probable that unmingled happiness, 
 or unmingled misery, will increase upon us, in an endless progression. 
 The powers of the human mind have a kind of expansive property — 
 They gradually grow more and more capable of taking in a larger por- 
 tion of any thing of which they are susceptible. This property, there 
 is reason to believe from analogy, will continue throughout the whole 
 of our existence. If, therefore, we fall into condemnation, increasing 
 anguish may come upon us without end. We may sink, and sink, and 
 sink, from one degree of torment to another, through all the depths of 
 unfathomable wo. The enlarged spirit may be still filling up with an- 
 guish, and still expanding to receive a greater measure — Whose soul 
 does not turn sick with horror at this prospect! Yet oh! remember, 
 the prospect will not only be realized, but exceeded, by every one who 
 loses his soul. 
 
 On the other hand, he who is saved, may rise perpetually in the 
 scale of happiness and glory. His faculties may constantly grow 
 larger, by partaking of the banquets of heavenly bliss, and drinking 
 to the full of " the waters of life." To his augmented, and perpetu- 
 ally increasing powers, the infinity of the Deity, and the boundless ex- 
 tent and variety of his works and ways, will still afford scope, and still 
 furnish objects new and delightful; so that the point at which Gabriel 
 now stands may, perhaps, my Christian brethren, be reached by you 
 — Nay, without this supposition, it may be shown, that, estimating hap- 
 piness by quantity, through one of your souls a greater measure of 
 happiness may pass, than all the glorified saints and angels have yet 
 enjoyed. For this sum we know is finite, and in eternity you may ex- 
 haust it all, and be still but entering on the immeasurable bliss which 
 there awaits you. How do these ideas animate and swell the soul ! 
 The good seems too great to be real; and we are ready to ask ourselves 
 whether it be a dream or a reality. A reality it is, my brethren, not 
 to be questioned more than your existence — A reality which every 
 child of God who now hears me, shall begin to experience for him- 
 self, in a very short space. 
 
 Attend, then, to the point, which, from this representation you are 
 called to consider — It is, whether you can think of any thing that 
 should induce you to sacrifice all the happiness, and incur all the mi- 
 sery, of which you have just heard? Can you think of any thing so 
 desirable as the one, and so dreadful as the other.^ Can you conceive of 
 any possession or enjoyment that you would choose to have, on condi- 
 
The Incalculable Worth of the Soul, S7 
 
 tion that it should subject you to the torments, and deprive you of the 
 glories, that have been set beibre you? No — reason and common sense 
 turn instantly with disdain and abhorrence from the thought. Here, 
 then, you unite with the inspired penman and say "The redemption — 
 the purchase price, of the soul is precious, and it ceaseth forever." 
 Consider, then, 
 
 II. That it must be unspeakable folly to exchange it for any consi- 
 deration or possession whatsoever, on account of which it may be sa- 
 crificed. 
 
 My brethren, I told you in the entrance of the discourse, that this 
 subject was so plain that it was difficult to illustrate it, and I now feel 
 the full force of the remark. I seem to have anticipated all that can 
 properly fall under this part of my plan — For if the soul be of such 
 immense worth that the whole world is not an equivalent for it; if it 
 far transcends every offer that can be made for its purchase; the con- 
 clusion is already formed, and formed with the utmost force, that to 
 exchange or lose it, for any low consideration, is folly for which we 
 have not a name. But alas! still it is a folly often witnessed; and 
 therefore, though it is impossible to add strength to the argument, you 
 must bear with me, while I point out some striking instances of the 
 melancholy fact. 
 
 One such instance you see, in those who are devoted to the pleasures 
 of the world. At the shrine of these pleasures their souls are sacri- 
 ficed. Devoted to that mirth which enchantingly agitates the mind 
 and drowns reflection; or fascinated by that ceaseless round of fashion- 
 able amusement which leaves no time for serious thought; or hurried 
 on by the gratification of those appetites which extinguish conscience 
 and sensualize the whole soul; the care, and almost the existence of the 
 soul, is forgotten and disregarded. Suppose then, ye votaries of plea- 
 sure, — suppose what is not likely to take place — that you enjoy your 
 idol without interruption to the very close of life, and then that you 
 miss the heaven, and sink, as you certainly will, into the hell that has 
 been described — where, I demand it of you, where is the wisdom of 
 your choice.'^ Have you laid your plans for enjoyment aright.^ Have 
 you not rather acted the part of infatuation? For a few fleeting indul- 
 gences, you have lost an interminable and inconceivable happiness, 
 and subjected yourselves to hopeless and endless misery. 
 
 Again — The possessions of the world, are another consideration for 
 which thousands of souls are continually bartered away. Bad as the 
 bargain is, wealth is commonly and greedily accepted, in exchange for 
 the immortal part of man. So true and so frequent is this, that we 
 have the authority of omniscience itself to say, that riches and the sal- 
 vation of the sold are only not mcompatible — " How hardly shall they 
 that have riches enter into the kingdom of God?" Busied, and bur- 
 dened, and perplexed, by the cares, exertions and anxieties, by which 
 their v/orldly interests are to be advanced and wealth secured; or else 
 with their whole thoughts and hearts engrossed and occupied by those 
 contemplations, passions and pursuits, which affluence begets and che- 
 rishes, rich men are apt to undervalue and neglect the true riches, and 
 to give themselves for the bribes of the world. Grant them, then, for 
 the sake of a case — grant them the full attainment of the object which 
 they seek. Allow — ye who are so intent on accumulating gain — allow 
 that your most sanguine wishes shall not only be realized, but exceed- 
 ed. Let it be admitted that you become the very darlings of fortune, 
 and be rich even to a proverb — Admit it all, and then answer me — ye 
 
S8 TJie Incalculable Worth of the SouL 
 
 men of calculation^ answer, to the plain question of profit and loss^ 
 which the Saviour proposes in the text — " What is a man profited 
 though he gain the whole world, and lose his own soul." When the 
 av/ful sound, which struck the ears of one of your brethren, shall be 
 rung in yours — " this night thy soul shall be required of thee;" and 
 when, with another, you shall " lift up your eyes in hell being in tor- 
 ments" — how will your estimates then appear? Ah! you will ihen dis- 
 cover an error awfully great — an error which it will be forever too late 
 to correct. Your account will then be unchangeably settled. You 
 have lost your souls, and you have nothing to give in exchange for 
 them, to redeem them from the prison of despair, whence you cannot 
 escape "till you have paid the uttermost farthing." 
 
 Again — Another object at which many grasp so as to lose their souls, 
 is " the hoRGicr ivkich cometh from man." To be esteemed great and 
 wise, to possess reputation and influence, to be the object of admira- 
 tion with the living, and secure a name and applause beyond the grave, 
 this is the illusion which enchants a number, and persuades them to re- 
 sign the hopes of the gospel, in the attempt to seize the phantom. 
 Assume then as a fact the greatest improbability. Imagine that these 
 men who idolize fame, become her most successful and happy vota- 
 ries. Imagine that they obtain universal admiration and esteem while 
 living, and that their names, when dead, become synonymous with 
 
 * genius, or learning, or wisdom, or patriotism, or heroism — with 
 any thing, or with every thing, in chase of which the soul may be lost 
 — And then tell us — Ye oracles of wisdom, I put the inquiry to your- 
 selves — tell us what it will avail you to be praised and envied in this 
 world, when, at that very moment, you shall be tormented with hopeless 
 anguish in the world to come? Will the recollection that your fellow 
 worms are admiring you, sooth the pain of the fire that never shall be 
 quenched."* Will the applauses of mortals comfort you under the wrath 
 of God, and a final banishment from his presence? How will the part 
 you have chosen appear in the day of judgment, and at the tribunal of 
 Christ? When you shall be separated to shame and everlasting con- 
 tempt before the assembled universe, how ineffably foolish will that 
 wisdom appear, Avhich taught you to prefer " the honour which cometh 
 from man, before that which cometh from God only?" Yes, then it 
 will be seen in a stronger light than the truth can now receive, that 
 those who have endured the most contemptuous sneers, the most in- 
 sulting ridicule, the bitterest scoffs, the most cruel persecution, and 
 death itself, rather than forsake the Saviour, have chosen a portion in- 
 finitely desirable and valuable; and that those who have been induced, 
 by any considerations, to desert the cause, or be ashamed of the name 
 of the Redeemer, have acted a part more infatuated and injurious to 
 themselves, than imagination can paint. The one class have preferred 
 time, to eternity — the other, eternity to time; the one experience a 
 loss that is infinite — the other reap a gain that is incalculable. ' 
 
 Once more — Thousands lose their souls through mere carelessness , 
 indifference, and inactioyi. They do not remarkably indulge inordinate 
 passions, but neither do they cordially embrace the gospel. They are 
 
 . asleep in a carnal and unregenerate state. They hear the gospel, but 
 they do not obey it. They are unwilling to think on religion, because 
 it interrupts their peace. They voluntarily indulge an indolent 
 thoughtlessness of their condition, and nothing can engage them to 
 *' strive to enter in at the strait gate." In a word, they are at ease 
 in their sins, and they hate to be disturbed 5 and as the kingdom of 
 
The Incalcu!Me Worth of the Soul. 39 
 
 heaven " siiffereth violence," they lose it, because they will not " take 
 it by force." We will grant you, then, ye slothful souls, ye sleepers 
 under the call of the gospel — we will grant that your consciences shall 
 never sting you, nor your minds be disturbed by religion, till your final 
 hour. But beyond that hour your stupor cannot last. Then you will 
 be roused by the gnawings of " the worm that shall never die." And 
 when you see heaven lost, and final perdition incurred, by your invin- 
 cible carelessness and neglect, how will you upbraid yourselves in 
 agony, that you would never exert your faculties, till exertion could 
 only augment your misery. 
 
 But, my brethren, justice to my subject requires that I now recall 
 all the concessions that I have made for the sake of argument. The 
 worldling does not always obtain wealthy the man of pleasure does not 
 always escape pain; the pursuer of fame does not always attain re- 
 nown; the careless sinner is not always able to preserve his quiet to 
 the last. On the contrary, the chance to any individual is very small, 
 that he will be fortunate enough to realize his hopes and expectations 
 to any considerable extent; and great disappointment and vexation he 
 will certainly experience. Often do the men to whom I have alluded, 
 suffer more, even in this life, than many other men suffer. So that in 
 fact, they often give up their interest in both v/orlds — " First dragged 
 through this, then damned in that to come." On the other hand — true 
 religion is not inconsistent with wealth, with pleasure, with character, 
 or with ease, so far as they are real ingredients in present happiness: 
 Nay, unfeigned piety gives us the best enjoyment of all these — " God- 
 liness is profitable unto all things, having the promise of the life which 
 now is, and of that which is to come." 
 
 Here, then, is the true and correct statement — Men lose their souls, 
 forfeit heaven, and sink into hell, for something here which, after all, 
 they do not obtain. They are often wretched in time, and wretched 
 throughout eternity, for the sake of grasping at an object which they 
 cannot reach. And all this, when, by true religion, they might really 
 possess the greatest enjoyment in this life, and secure eternal felicity 
 in the life to come. Behold, here, the wisdom of this world! Language 
 cannot express the madness of its absurdity, nor describe the conse- 
 quences of listening to its dictates. Let us, then — 
 
 in. Carefully apply and improve this subject. And here the first 
 point that each of us ought to settle, is — whether lie be concerned or 
 not, in this fearful business of giving his soul for the world .^ It is a 
 question of infinite importance, and I do entreat you to put it honestly 
 to your consciences and hearts. I beg of every individual to ask him- 
 self fairly and seriously, whether he loves God, or the world, the most? 
 This decides the point — If you love not God supremely, you have no 
 such love to him as will save your souls. He will not share your af- 
 fections with any rival. " You cannot serve God and mammon." The 
 one, or the other, is your lord and sovereign. Decide the question — 
 which is it? Do you hesitate? If you belong to any of those classes 
 or descriptions of character that I have just set before you, you need 
 not deliberate a moment. You have chosen the world, and your soul 
 is the forfeiture. Are you really doubtful about your state? Then 
 come, and let us investigate it closely. Have you ever felt that you 
 were by nature and by practice a lost and perishing sinner? I ask not 
 whether you h?.ve speculatively believed this — I ask if you hsLxe felt it. 
 Has the sight and conviction of your sin, given you such uneasiness 
 that you have felt willing to give up the world, as your supreme good? 
 
40 The Incalculable Worth of the Soul. 
 
 Yea, felt that if you had owned a world, you would have been ready 
 to give it freely, if this had been the price of obtaining pardon and 
 reconciliation with your Maker? In these circumstances, has the 
 Lord Jesus Christ been presented to your view, as the only, and the 
 all-sufficient Saviour? Have you renounced all your own doings and 
 righteousness, as of no avail, and cast yourselves — helpless and hope- 
 less from any other quarter — on him, as the entire hope, and only re- 
 fuge of your souls? Have you ever been drawn sweetly to resign your- 
 selves to him, to save you from the power and dominion of sin, as well 
 as from its punishment? Have you, in consequence of this, found Christ 
 Jesus unspeakably precious? Have you solemnly renounced the world, 
 and all that it can offer, so far as it shall come in competition with 
 the laws and service of God? Have you chosen God in Christ, as your 
 portion and supreme good; determined to undervalue and treat as 
 " dross and dung," every thing inconsistent with his love and favour? 
 Have you been able to keep this purpose — not perfectly, for none 
 do this — but yet so prevailingly that you do prefer the ways, the 
 favour and the glory of God, before all other considerations? Can you, 
 and do you, give up the possessions, the pleasures, and the good 
 opinion of the world, when they are opposed to Christian duty? Are 
 your heart, your treasure, and your affections, in heaven? Do you 
 study to adorn the doctrine of God your Saviour, in all things — by a 
 meek, and humble, and exemplary deportment; and by the faithful, 
 diligent, and conscientious discharge of every social and relative duty? 
 If so, you are the Lord's, and he will keep that which you have com- 
 mitted to him. A few days of trial more, and you will enter on that 
 glorious state of endless and increasing blessedness, which has been 
 faintly described in this discourse. 
 
 But my principal business is with those whose consciences inform 
 them that tkey must answer the inquiries proposed in the negative. 
 Let them know assuredly, that they have trifled or trafficked away their 
 souls. Dear deluded immortals! Count me not your enemy because I 
 tell you the truth. Behold, I come to you this hour with a message, that 
 you ought to receive with the greatest thankfulness and joy. I come 
 to tell you, that it is not too late to retract the fatal transaction^ by which 
 you have lost your souls. I come to proclaim to you in the name of 
 Jehovah, that your " covenant Vv'ith death," may, and ought to be dis- 
 annulled; and your " agreement v/ith hell," to be broken. I come to 
 persuade you immediately to renounce and cast far from you, the 
 wages of eternal death. Will you not listen, with all the powers of 
 your souls, to this information? If you will, you may yet be saved. 
 Such is the transcendent mercy of God, and the wonderful condescen- 
 sion of the Saviour, that he invites you to come to him, although you 
 have hitherto been the property of his enemies, and refused all the 
 kind and merciful offers that he has made to win you to himself. He 
 is still carrying on the treaty of peace. He is still " reconciling the 
 world unto himself, not imputing their trespasses unto them." If 
 you will now break your league with your idols and your lusts, cast 
 yourselves at the foot of his mercy, confess your sins heartily, forsake 
 them truly, and trust to the finished righteousness of the Redeemer, as 
 the ground of your acceptance, your souls will yet be saved, and will 
 yet rise and shine in the mansions of eternal glory. Can you need any 
 arguments to persuade you to choose this, rather than to go on and 
 perish forever? I know of none that can be offered more powerful than 
 those you have already heard. Ponder them, I beseech you, till they 
 
The JVature and Effects of Regeneration, 41 
 
 rouse into action every energy of your minds. Remember your souls 
 are at stake; and if they are worth more than a world, they are surely 
 worth a conflict for their salvation. Look to God, to aid you by his 
 grace; for without this, whatever impressions you may feel, whatever 
 resolutions you may form — all, I know, will be effaced and lost. You 
 will become again insensible and infatuated, till you are forever undone. 
 Pray, therefore, in forming every purpose, and in making every effort, for 
 the effectual aid of God's Holy Spirit; and resolving in divine strength, 
 and looking constantly for divine assistance, make no delay in beginning 
 the work; undervalue and disregard all that shall oppose you in it — 
 and the prize is yours. You shall be delivered from the power of sin 
 and the slavery of Satan; you shall be saved from the pit of destruc- 
 tion; you shall be numbered with the adopted children of God on 
 earth; and you shall, with them, possess hereafter " an inheritance, in- 
 corruptible and undefiled, and that fadeth not away, reserved in hea- 
 ven, for those who are kept by the power of God through faith unto 
 salvation, ready to be revealed in the last time.'* Amen. 
 
 SERXIXOIT. 
 
 THE NATURE AND EFFECTS OF REGENERATION. 
 
 2 Cor. iv. 6. — "For God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, hath 
 shined in our hearts, to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God, ia 
 the face of Jesus Christ." 
 
 That the god of this world hath blinded the eyes of the children of 
 men, is a truth which Scripture and experience unite to confirm. In- 
 sensible, by nature, of the beauty and excellence of holiness, we wander 
 in pursuit of the unlawful pleasures which our corrupted passions 
 suggest, and easily fall into the snares which the enemy of our salva- 
 tion spreads for our destruction. Natural conscience, rendered insen- 
 sible by repeated perversions and violations, ceases at length to do its of- 
 fice, and the unhappy offender is left to the fatal consequences of an unre- 
 strained indulgence of his corruptions and lusts. This, although a dark, 
 is not an unjust picture, of the natural state, and tendency of man. It 
 is, in effect, the picture which the Apostle has given, in the verses im- 
 mediately preceding the text. And on the justness of this representa- 
 tion, is founded the necessity of that great change which we are now 
 to illustrate from the inspired declaration, — " That God, who com- 
 manded the light to shine out of darkness, hath shined in our hearts- 
 meaning the hearts of those who believe — to give us the light of the 
 knowledge of the glory of God, in the face of Jesus Christ." 
 
 In this declaration of the Apostle, the three following important 
 points, seem to be implied — 
 
 I. That the change which, in regeneration, is wrought by God in the 
 hearts of sinners, is a work of creation. 
 
 II. That the consequence of this change is, a new and impressive dis- 
 covery of the glory of God; and 
 
 III. That this discovery is made through the medium of the charac- 
 ter and work of Jesus Christ. 
 
 Previously to entering on the illustration of the general doctrines 
 laid down, it may not be improper just to take notice, that divines have 
 sometimes been divided, respecting the manner in which the operation 
 F 
 
42 'Hie JVature and Effects of Regeneration* 
 
 of the Spirit of God produces its effects on the heart. It is said on the 
 one hand, that the change is wrought by light conveyed to the under- 
 standing, in such an irresistible manner that the approbation of the 
 heart of necessity follows. On the other hand, it is alleged, that 
 oftentimes there is no need of any further illumination of the under- 
 standing, but only of a new temper, disposed to love the truths already 
 clearly and sufficiently apprehended. It does not seem a matter of 
 much consequence, to enter far into this discussion. Whether the under- 
 standing or the heart be first applied to, on either supposition, the event 
 is the same. The mind which was before at enmity, is now changed, 
 and filled with love to God. Perhaps in this, as in many other disputes 
 which have divided the Christian church, truth lies not wholly on the 
 one side or the other. Probably, both the understanding is enlight- 
 ened, and the heart, by a direct influence, renewed unto holiness, at the 
 same time. Absolutely to pronounce on the ways of God, is beyond 
 the knowledge and the duty of man. Our inquiries, therefore, on these 
 subjects, ought ever to be made with reverence and humility. In the 
 economy of grace, as well as of nature, undoubtedly there may be 
 various ways of producing the same effect. In the present instance, it 
 is probable, as has been said, that a change of heart is most frequently, 
 if not always, accompanied with an uncommonly clear apprehension of 
 divine things. But which of these is necessarily first, in the order of 
 nature, is perhaps a point on which it belongs not to us to pronounce. 
 Neither would it be a matter of great importance, could we be abso- 
 lutely decided on this, or any such question. For on any subtlety, or 
 nice distinction, in regard to the mode of the divine operations, the es- 
 sentials of religion do not depend. Are we not taught reserve on this 
 subject by the declaration of the Saviour himself? — "The wind bloweth 
 where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell 
 whence it cometh and whither it goeth; so is every one that is born 
 of the Spirit." What is clearly revealed in the divine word, and what 
 we proposed first to illustrate from the words of the text is — That the 
 change which, in regeneration, is Avrought by God in the hearts of sin- 
 ners, is a work of creation. This seems evidently to be taught, by the 
 Apostle's comparing the power of God in the original creation of light, 
 ^vith his operation in producing the light of life in the unholy heart — 
 " God who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, hath shined 
 in our hearts." As if he had said — " The same creative power, which 
 made light to spring out of the darkness and confusion of chaos, hath, by 
 a similar operation, made divine light to shine, amidst the darkness and 
 disorder which sin had introduced into the hearts of his people. This 
 sentiment, somewhat diversified in the manner of its expression, is de- 
 livered in many other passages of Scripture. Sometimes it is repre- 
 sented as a new birth. " Ye must be born again," said our Lord to 
 Nicodemus. " If any man be in Christ," saith the Apostle, "he is a 
 new creature, old things are passed away, behold, all things are become 
 new." Sometimes, it is spoken of as a great change or transformation. 
 "Beholding, as in a glass, the glory of the Lord, we are changed into 
 the same image, from glory to glory, even as by tht Spirit of the 
 Lord." "Be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye 
 may prove, what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect will of God." 
 But whatever figure, or mode of expression is used, the idea is still pre- 
 served, that a creative power has been exerted on the soul. "Put on 
 the new man which, after God, is created in righteousness, and true 
 holiness." 
 
 Let us examine this doctrine, so clearly and explicitly taught in Holy 
 
The J\*ature and Effects of Regeneration* 4S 
 
 Scripture, by the test of facts and experience. Look abroad into the 
 world, and consult your own observation. You shall find a man who 
 was once proud and overbearing-, nov/ meek and humble; one who was 
 once revengeful, now forgiving; one who was once selfish, now benevo- 
 lent; one who was once impure and sensual, now chaste and holy. In 
 short, you shall find every moral bias, and habit of the mind, taking anew 
 and a contrary direction. Nor shall we find these persons thus altered, 
 by philosophical reasoning on the superior pleasures of virtue, above 
 those of vice. Many of them, perhaps, never put the question to them- 
 selves, whether religion and piety do, or do not, lead directly to present - 
 happiness. Or if they have, the event has been, that so far from con- 
 sidering them as favourable to present enjoyment, they have rather 
 viewed them as the bane of every worldly pleasure, and only necessary 
 as a refuge aud security against future punishment. But the Spirit of 
 God has laid hold on their hearts, and co-operating with conscience, 
 has, after many reluctant struggles, subjected them to the yoke of 
 Christ. I do not mean that men are regenerated against their inclina- 
 tion. " Thy people, says the Psalmist, shall be willing in the day of thy 
 power." Those whose minds have been directly opposed to faith and 
 repentance, have, in their renovation, a disposition to these graces, 
 sweetly, but powerfully wrought within them. Now what is this but 
 creation.^ Darkness is turned into light; sin into holiness; hatred into 
 love; and pollution into purity. 
 
 In describing these striking effects of the Spirit's operation, it is not 
 intended to mark the uniform manner of his influence. Such examples 
 are adduced, only as the most visible and irresistible proofs of the 
 proposition to be established. In other, and perhaps in more nume- 
 rous instances, the change from nature to grace, is much less conspi- 
 cuous. In some, it may have been very silent, and apparently gradual. 
 The habits of education and instruction may have so prepared the mind, 
 that though there must have been some period when grace was first 
 implanted in the heart, yet so small has been the sensible alteration 
 produced, as not to be observed at all by others, and hardly known, but 
 by its growth, to the individual in whom it has taken place. Still, how- 
 ever, a work of creation must have been wrought. Widely different 
 are the silent stream and the gentle breeze, from the roaring torrent 
 and the boisterous tempest; yet the agents are the same, and the bene- 
 volent designs of the Deity are alike accomplished by all. 
 
 It will only be necessary to observe, further, on this part of the sub- 
 ject, that in the creation contemplated, we do not mean that any addi- 
 tion is made to the natural powers of the soul. The moral disposition, 
 or the heart, is the chief subject of the work of which I have been 
 speaking. Those affections and feelings which before were employed 
 and pleased only with sensual or temporal things, are now disposed to 
 relish and delight supremely, in those which are spiritual and divine. For 
 
 II. The consequence of the great change of which I have spoken, is 
 a new and impressive discovery of the glory of God. " To give us, 
 says the text, the light of the knowledge of the glory of God." This 
 is an expression so highly wrought, as not to be altered, or amplified, 
 without losing something either of its beauty or strength. The Apos- 
 tle is not contented to say, simply, that the light^ or the knowledge, or 
 the glory of God, is revealed. But it is the light of the knowledge of 
 the glory q/" God — the clearest communication of the highest species of 
 knowledge, even that of the glory of God, which is made to the new 
 born soul. The whole is likewise heightened, by the contrast which 
 it forms with the description of unbelievers, in a preceding verse. 
 
44 The JVature and Effects of Regeneration. 
 
 There it is said, that " the god of this world hath blinded the minds of 
 them who believe not, lest the light of the glorious gospel of Christ, 
 who is the image of God, should shine unto them." 
 
 A perception of the glory of God consists in a just view of the infinity, 
 harmony and moral beauty, of all the divine attributes. Some faint traces 
 of several of the perfections of the Deity, the sinner might indeed per- 
 ceive, and in a degree admire. The wisdom, the power, and the goodness 
 of the great Creator, are noble objects of contemplation, for every intel- 
 ligent creature. But to view the Supreme Being in a partial manner, is 
 so far from beholding his glory, that it is rather a degradation of his ex- 
 cellence. Is he wise? His wisdom is not confined to the formation and 
 government of the material creation. It extends, likewise, to the moral 
 perfection of his system. And here he often " taketh the wise, in their 
 own craftiness; and the counsel of the froward is carried headlong.'* 
 But it is in devising and executing the plan of redemption by Jesus 
 Christ, that the wisdom of God is most displayed, and appears the 
 most glorious, both to saints and angels — "To the intent, says the 
 apostle, that now unto the principalities and powers in heavenly places, 
 might be known by the church the manifold wisdom of God." Is he 
 powerful.^ Not merely in creating and upholding the visible universe, 
 but likewise in executing all his plans and purposes for the salvation of 
 his people; in defeating and punishing his enemies, and in protecting 
 and rewarding his own children. So that he saith to the former, " I 
 will break the pride of your power.'* "If I whet my glittering sword, 
 and mine hand take hold on judgment, I will render vengeance to mine 
 enemies, and will reward them that hate me." To the latter he saith 
 — ^" He giveth power to the faint, and to them that have no might, he 
 increaseth strength." "He shall send from heaven, and save thee from 
 the reproach of him that would swallow thee up." Is God merciful? 
 His mercy is not a weak and changeable pity, to contradict and destroy 
 his other perfections; for "his work is perfect, all his ways are judg- 
 ment, a God of truth and without iniquity, just and right is he." Let 
 the unholy heart view the Creator in this light, and it will rise in re- 
 bellion against him. But it is in this light that the renewed soul de- 
 lights to contemplate him. The saint cannot be satisfied with a par- 
 tial view of the divine excellence. Having found by experience that 
 his highest happiness consists in beholding fully and clearly the glory 
 of his covenant God, nothing short of its most perfect perception, which 
 the present state of man can admit, will satisfy his desires. Interested 
 too, like an affectionate child, who is convinced that his father's cha- 
 racter will appear the more amiable, the more closely it is examined, 
 he dwells on every part of it with supreme delight. With these devout 
 and pious dispositions of heart, God is well pleased; and reveals him- 
 self to the holy soul, in a manner in which he doth not reveal himself 
 unto the world. 
 
 It is true, that in the present state, " we know but in part, and see 
 through a glass darkly." Our imperfect natures could not endure the 
 full effulgence of the divine glory. But that degree of it which is here 
 given to man to know and to bear, is the source of the believer's high- 
 est joy; and with humble and patient expectation, he anticipates the 
 happy period, when " this mortal shall put on immortality, and we shall 
 know even as we are known." 
 
 When it was said that the believer delights not in contemplating a 
 partial Deity, I did not mean to intimate that there are not some of the 
 divine perfections, in which he may feel himself peculiarly interested. 
 To the mercy by which he is saved, and from which he derives his 
 
The JVature and Effects of Regeneration, 45 
 
 daily comforts and his eternal hopes, he may look with uncommon 
 pleasure. But he never excludes one of the perfections of God, by an 
 unreasonable extension of another. He adores the justice that punishes 
 the obstinate sinner, as well as the mercy that pardons the returning 
 penitent. He considers all the divine attributes as perfectly consistent 
 and harmonious, and, in the highest degree, worthy of his admiration 
 and praise — He sees that in the plan of redeeming love, "mercy and 
 truth are met together, righteousness and peace have kissed each 
 other." The believer is enabled to take this just and delightful survey 
 of the attributes of God, because — 
 
 HI. He views them through the medium of the character and work 
 of Jesus Christ. 
 
 The character of our great Redeemer is, as it were, the mirror which 
 exhibits to the eye of faith the glory of God, in its greatest lustre. It 
 was long an object of anxious inquiry among the most enlightened of the 
 heathen world, how God could be just, and yet the justifier of sinners, 
 even when repentant. Perfectly holy and righteous himself, no expec- 
 tation of a return of indulgence could induce him to bestow pardon on 
 the guilty; and how the moral government of the universe could be 
 sustained, if every offender did not receive the punishment due to his 
 transgressions, was a question of difficult solution. But by the death 
 of Christ, this dark, important problem, was solved at once. The jus- 
 tice of God, which would not be pacified without satisfaction, when the 
 life of his own Son was the price of its vindication, appeared awfully 
 conspicuous; and the mercy, which would provide and pay such a 
 price for offending sinners, shone forth in all the splendour of its 
 charms. Here, then, in the redemption of Christ, the glory of God 
 appears to the renewed soul, in a way of which the wisest of the an- 
 cient heathen were totally ignorant, and for which the men of the 
 world, in every age, have had no relish. In creation and providence, 
 they may have perceived his power, and admired his wisdom. Evi- 
 dent as they are to the eye of sense, it would not have been easy to re- 
 sist them. But the consistency and harmony of the divine perfections — 
 the union of justice and mercy — the very light of the knowledge of his 
 glory, can be seen only by the eye of faith, in the plan of redemption — 
 and to the lustre of this, the heathen were perfectly blind, and gospel- 
 ized sinners are insensible and stupid. Nor is the union of justice with 
 mercy, loudly demanding, as it does, our admiration and wonder, the 
 only display of the divine glory, which is seen through the character 
 of Jesus Christ. " He is himself the brightness of his Father's glory, 
 and the express image of his person." In him the perfections of God, 
 without being degraded, are, as it were, humanized, and brought more 
 within the bounds of finite conception. In him the rays of uncreated 
 glory are all concentred: and from him they beam forth in all their 
 separate or blended beauty, to the eye of the believing mind. Does it 
 behoove us to contemplate God as a being pure and spiritual? In 
 Christ Jesus the believer is "filled with all wisdom and spiritual under- 
 standing." " He is blessed with all spiritual blessings in heavenly 
 places." " He that is joined to the Lord is one spirit." The Redeem- 
 er's kingdom is continually represented as spiritual. His saints " as 
 lively stones, are built up a spiritual house, an holy priesthood, to offer 
 up spiritual sacrifices, acceptable to God by Jesus Christ." Does the 
 immensity of the Supreme Being overwhelm the contemplative mind? 
 Christ Jesus is " the fulness of him that filleth all in all." Do we ad- 
 mire the wisdom of God? "Angels desire to look" into the depth of 
 that wisdom which was displayed in the redemption of Christ. Are 
 
46 Tlie J^atiire and Effects of Regeneration. 
 
 we struck with amazement, when we contemplate the Almighty power? 
 By Christ "the worlds were made." When here on earth, "the winds 
 and the seas obeyed him" — When he was assaulted by sinners, "twelve 
 legions of angels" stood ready at his call. When he died, the sun was 
 darkened, the rocks rent, the earth quaked, and the dead arose. When 
 he was laid in the grave, the bands of death could not confine him — He 
 broke them in sunder, and plucked away the sting of death for the be- 
 nefit of all his followers. In his very submission to his enemies, he 
 triumphed over them; and defeated their designs, by those events in 
 which they thought them fulfilled. " When he ascended up on high, he 
 led captivity captive, and gave gifts unto men." Exalted to his fa- 
 ther's right hand, God hath " set him far above all principality, and 
 power, and might, and dominion, and every name that is named, not 
 only in this world, but also in that which is to come; and hath put all 
 things under his feet, and given him to be head over all things to the 
 church." Do we adore the justice of the Deity.^ How inflexible was 
 that justice which did not spare in Christ the incarnate God, when 
 he became the sinner's substitute; but cried, " awake, O sword, and 
 smite the man that is my fellow." Are we transported with the divine 
 mercy.^ Behold, in the Redeemer the God of mercy dying for sinful 
 man. "Feed the church of God, said the apostle Paul to the Ephesian 
 elders, which he hath purchased with his own blood." "He loved not 
 his life unto the death. He was delivered for our offences, and raised 
 again for our justification." And hence it is triumphantly declared, 
 that "neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, 
 nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any 
 other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which 
 is in Christ Jesus our Lord." Would we confide in the truth and 
 faithfulness of our heavenly Father.^ "By two immutable things — his 
 promise and his oath — in which it is impossible for God to lie, we have 
 a strong consolation, who have fled for refuge to lay hold on the hope 
 set before us: which hope we have, as an anchor of the soul, both sure 
 and steadfast, and which entereth with that within the veil; whither the 
 forerunner is for us entered, even Jesus, made an high priest forever 
 after the order of Melchisedec." In this manner, it would be both 
 easy and pleasing to pursue our subject, till we had shown how all the 
 attributes of God are united, rendered harmonious, highly illustrated, 
 and made strikingly visible to the eye of faith, in the character and 
 work of ihe great Redeemer. Leaving this, however, to employ, as it 
 often will, the retired hours of every real Christian, let us endeavour to 
 improve what hath already been said on this subject, by reflecting. 
 
 In the first place, how absolutely we are dependent on God for our 
 salvation. To effect it we have seen that a work of creation must be 
 wrought on the heart. How ought the reflection to awaken our con- 
 cern, and quicken our diligence.^ But to what purpose, it will proba- 
 bly be said, would be our most strenuous endeavours? The work is 
 not ours but God's; to renew the heart, it has been affirmed, is be- 
 yond the reach of human power and finite exertion. This objection, 
 however intended, expresses a solemn, and what ought to be an affect- 
 ing truth. Would to God that those in whose mouths it is the oftenest 
 found, felt in their hearts its high importance and its just consequences. 
 It would not then be so frequently pleaded as an excuse for sinful in- 
 dulgence. It would be the most powerful of all motives to watchful- 
 ness and care. Are sinners dependent on God for the renovation of 
 their natures? and yet are they careless how much they offend him? 
 how many provocations they e-ive him to withhold the necessary influ- 
 
The JSTature and Effects of Regeneration. 47 
 
 ence of his Spirit for so important a purpose? Do men act thus, when 
 they feel that they are utterly dependent on a fellow creature tor an im- 
 portant favour? Remember, then, O sinner! that although you cannot 
 save yourself, yet you may destroy yourself-You may put yourselt, it 
 not absolutely beyond the reach, certainly beyond the reasonable hope 
 of salvation. And this you are in danger of doing, if you plead an 
 appointment of God, as an excuse for offending him~It may be said 
 of you, as of Ephraim of old, " he is joined to his idols, let him alone. 
 Ah remember!— there is such a thing as divine dereliction; and that 
 when it takes place the individual whom it affects, is as sure of perdition 
 as if he were already in the place of torment. In infinite goodness and 
 condescension, God has instituted certain means, for your instruction 
 and reformation. In what manner these means possess an inl uence on 
 the absolute determination of God, we know not. But we know the 
 facts of the case— We know, that without the use of the means— which 
 are as much in our power as any thing can be in our povyer— we nave 
 no just ground to expect or hope for the divine interposition. And on 
 the other hand, we have reason to hope that if we are diligent and taith- 
 ful in the use of the appoinied means, and at every step look earnestly 
 to God to attend them with his blessing, to work in them and by them a 
 work of saving grace on our hearts— the result will be salutary. INot, 
 be it remembered, as a matter of merit, or desert, but a gratuitous favour 
 conferred on those who are found in the way, in which he has com- 
 manded sinners to seek him. Pervert not, therefore, tne divine soye- 
 reienty into an argument for careless impenitence, and stupid security 
 in sin. Use it rkther as the most powerful motive to diligence and 
 care; lest you provoke God to give you up to strong delusion to beheve 
 a lie Cry mightily to him for his effectual aid, and endeavour, without 
 delay, to cast yourselves truly and unreservedly on his mercy in Christ 
 Jesus. Never did he spurn from the foot of his throne of grace, the 
 soul that humbly resolved to be saved or to perish there. 
 
 In the second place— From what has been said, let us learn how im- 
 portant and sublime are the discoveries and employments ot the 
 Christian religion. The light of the knowledge of the glory of God, is 
 the object which the gospel dipensation reveals, in every renewed mmd. 
 It leads to the contemplation of the Almighty, in all his majesty and 
 in all his grace, as one of the most delightful exercises of all the true 
 disciples of Christ. Is any thing more worthy than this of our rational • 
 nature? Is any subject of thought more noble, more sublime, more cal- 
 culated to show the moral elevation of the human powers. Deprive man 
 of his religious character, exercises, and hopes, and you condemn an im- 
 mortal, immaterial being, to the concerns of a moment, and the mcul- 
 P-ences of a brute. Never was there a more unjust and groundless slander, 
 than that which the enemies of our holy religion have sometimes endea- 
 voured to fix upon it, by representing it as an object suited only to 
 weak, superstitious, and timid minds. What mdication is there of 
 a weak and timid mind, in delighting in the contemplation of bound- 
 less power, wisdom, and goodness? What can be more rational and 
 important, than to discover the source of all our present and future 
 haopiness? WMiat can be more firm and magnanimous, than, in conh- 
 dence of his love and favour, to look up with holy boldness satisfaction, 
 and pleasure, to the King of kings, and the Lord of lords? Or m the 
 decisive crisis of an endless existence, to exclaim m trmmph^ O 
 death where is thy sting! O grave where is thy victory!- fhanks be to 
 God who giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. Well 
 might the Apostle say "if our gospel be hid, it is hid to them that are 
 
48 The JVature and Effects of Regeneration* 
 
 lost.'* Assuredly men do not slight or revile religion because it wants 
 charms, but because they want sight to perceive, or taste to relish them. 
 No sincere Christian ever yet complained, that his master's service 
 ■was unimportant, unpleasing, or without reward. Its object is to 
 honour and please the greatest and the best of Beings. Its plea- 
 sures are the purest and highest delights of an immortal soul. Its re- 
 ward, is an eternity of unmixed and unsatiating felicity. Christians, I 
 appeal to your own hearts — Which have been the happiest moments 
 of your lives.^ Those in which the world has smiled most upon you? or 
 those in which you have had the most intimate communion with your 
 God and Redeemer.^ I know your answer — I am sure, you will tes- 
 tify, that the pleasures of religion have rendered the smiles of the 
 world trifling, and its frowns contemptible. Now to rest the truth of any 
 position on fact and experience, is to place it on its fairest, and firmest 
 basis. To fact and experience, religion dares and wishes to appeal, for 
 the confirmation of all its pretensions. Believe it, impenitent sinner, 
 as yet you are ignorant of the noblest pursuits, and the highest gra- 
 tifications, of which your nature is capable. And since your business, 
 Christian brethren, is so noble, important, and pleasing — "forgetting 
 those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things 
 which are before, press toward the mark, for the prize of the high call- 
 ing of God, in Christ Jesus." For to him, let us remember. 
 
 In the last place, we are under infinite and eternal obligations. — 
 Had not the Redeemer come in the flesh, vain would have been all 
 our discoveries of the divine nature, even supposing that without him 
 they might have been perfect. To lillle, or rather, to a dreadful pur- 
 pose, should we have studied the perfections of God, had the employ- 
 ment, as it certainly would, only have taught us the more clearly, that 
 they were all engaged for our destruction. The light that blazes only 
 to destroy, may indeed possess its splendours, but it cannot be beheld 
 without dismay and horror. Yet even this wretched condition of ex- 
 istence would not have been ours. The god of this world hath blinded 
 the eyes of the children of men, and we should have gone blindfold to 
 destruction. If we had amused ourselves with dreams of future happi- 
 ness, they would all have been founded on dark and false conjecture; 
 and the fire that never shall be quenched, would have flashed truth and 
 torment together upon us. From this dreadful situation, Christ the 
 Redeemer, at the expense of a life of sorrow and a death of agony and 
 infamy, hath delivered our guilty race. To make a return adequate to 
 so great a favour lies not within the limits of created capacity. Such 
 a return is not required — The benevolent interposition of God our Sa- 
 viour, was intended to be in every view entirely gratuitous. All that 
 is demanded of us is, by ardent gratitude to the bestower, and true and 
 steady obedience to the precepts he has left us, to secure to ourselves 
 the benefits of his ineffable grace. These favourable terms are, them- 
 selves, new and strong ties of obligation. How justly aggravated, 
 therefore v/ill be the condemnation of those " who neglect so great sal- 
 vation" — Sinner, blest with the clear light of the gospel, remember, 
 that your lot is cast for an extreme. If you perish, no middle region, 
 in the world of wo, will be your allotment. By the atonement and in- 
 tercession of Christ, a way is opened to the highest heaven, or the 
 deepest hell. The one, or the other, of these important alternatives, in- 
 evitably awaits us all. One vvould think there need not be any great 
 hesitation in making a choice — Oh be determined, immediately " to 
 kiss the Son, lest he be angry, and ye perish from the way." 
 
 To you, Christian brethren, who have already tasted that the Lord is 
 
The Sin and Danger of boasting of To-morrow, 49 
 
 gracious, it would be natural to conclude that nothing need be said, to 
 awaken a sense of obligation and gratitude. But alas I lamentable ex- 
 perience convinces us, that forgetfulness and ingratitude are not pecu- 
 liar to unsanctified hearts; although in such hearts alone, can forgetful- 
 ness and ingratitude become habitual and predominant. — In the house 
 of his friends the Saviour is often wounded. My brethren, can we 
 seriously reflect on what the Redeemer of our souls endured for us — 
 that he became a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; that he was 
 treated with indignity from his birth till his death — from the manger 
 to the cross; that he endured the contradictions of sinners and the as- 
 saults of the powers of darkness; that in his agony he sweat great drops 
 of blood falling down to the ground; that he expired on a cross, for- 
 saken by his friends, and suffering even the hidings of his Father's face 
 — O can we think of all this — of all this endured for our sakes; and yet 
 act as if we wished to open his closed wounds anew, and to crucify 
 him afresh by our sins! What baseness inutterable! What blushing, 
 and shame, and self-abhorrence, should we feel, when we dishonour our 
 Saviour before the world — yea when we think of that want of ardent love 
 which is known only to him and to ourselves; of the defect of that pu- 
 rity of motive which should characterize all our services; of those imper- 
 fections which cleave to all we do; and of that lack of holy zeal, and of 
 entire devotedness in his cause and service, of which we must be con- 
 scious. Let us remember it is but little that we can do for him, who 
 has done and suffered much for us — O let not even this little be ne- 
 glected — But " whatsoever our hand findeth to do, let us do it with 
 our might;" that we may give evidence to the surrounding world, by 
 our conduct as well as by our profession, that " God who commanded 
 the light to shine out of darkness, hath shined in our hearts, to give us 
 the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus 
 Christ." Amen. 
 
 SERMOir. 
 
 THE SIN AND DANGER OF BOASTING OF TO-MORROW. 
 
 Prov. xxvii. 1.— "Boast not thyself of to-morrow; for thou knowest not what a day 
 may bring forth." 
 
 The complaint has been long and justly made, that the conduct of 
 men is frequently in open hostility with their reason and sense of pro- 
 priety. It is against an evil of this description that the text remon- 
 strates. We all acknowledge the impropriety and imprudence of 
 trusting to an uncertain futurity, for that which may, and ought to 
 be ensured, by present attention. Yet, in direct opposition to this 
 acknowledgment, and the sanction which its truth and inriportance re- 
 ceives from the constant experience of the world, procrastination, or de- 
 lay, is a fault of the most frequent occurrence. Present reluctance, 
 or the imaginary prospect of more favourable circumstances, disposes 
 the mind to postpone, till some future period, the performance of a 
 duty which now demands regard, and which conscience might not 
 suffer us to neglect, did we not flatter ourselves that it might hereafter 
 be performed with more advantage. Let me then, possess your serious 
 attention, while I endeavour, in discoursing on the text before us — 
 
 I. To ascertain, distinctly, the evil which it condemns. 
 G 
 
50 The Sin and Danger of boasting of To-morrow. 
 
 II. To show how unreasonable and malignant this evil is in itself, 
 and how dangerous in its tendency and consequences. 
 
 First, then, let us endeavour to ascertain distinctly the evil which the 
 text condemns. In doing this, it is proper to begin with observing, 
 that it cannot be intended to condemn, indiscriminately, all con- 
 cern about the future events of life, nor all provision for meeting them 
 when they shall occur. Both reason and revelation are opposed to such 
 an idea. The business which cannot be completed to-day must be de- 
 layed till to-morrow, and we may indulge a degree of concern, as well 
 as make the necessary arrangements, that it may then be accomplished. 
 In the very chapter which contains the text, its author tells us, that " a 
 prudent man foreseeth the evil and hideth himself; but the simple pass 
 on and are punished;" intimating plainly that there is on the one hand, 
 a lawful and commendable anticipation of the occurrences of life, and 
 preparation for them, which is productive of advantage; and that, on 
 the other, there is a foolish and blameable thoughtlessness and impro- 
 vidence, the certain consequence of which is inconvenience and injury. 
 While this allowance, then, is fairly and fully conceded, we may recog- 
 nise the evil after which we inquire in the two following particulars; 
 First, in placing a too confident dependance on futurity for the perform- 
 ance of things lawful in themselves, and necessarily demanding delay; 
 and. Secondly^ in placing any dependance at all on the time to come, 
 for that which we ought immediately to perform, or attempt, and 
 especially for that which we ought never to attempt or intend. 
 
 It has already been intimated, that to provide for the support and 
 comfort of ourselves, and of those who depend upon us, is not only a 
 permitted but commanded duty. He who neglects to do this is de- 
 clared to be " worse than an infidel." In discharging this duty, it has 
 also been stated that plans of future industry and management must 
 be laid and pursued. But be it now remembered, that these plans are 
 to be concerted and executed, without that excessive anxiety which im- 
 plies a distrust of providence, and a supreme devotion to worldly con- 
 cerns and acquisitions. "Take no thought for to-morrow," says our 
 Saviour, — or as it should be rendered — " be not anxious for to-morrow, 
 for to-morrow shall be anxious for the things of itself; sufficient unto 
 the day is the evil thereof." But if painful and distrustful solicitude 
 about futurity be contrary to the spirit of the gospel, much more so is 
 that confident and presumptuous reliance upon it, which implicitly 
 denies our dependance on God. This is boasting of to-morrow in a 
 very impious manner; even though the design v/hich we propose to 
 pursue be not unlawful in itself. Hear how pointedly this presumption 
 is condemned by the Apostle James — " Go to now, ye that say to-day, 
 or to-morrow, we will go into such a city, and continue there a year, 
 and buy and sell and ^ti gain; — whereas ye know not what shall be on 
 the morrow: For what is your life.^ It is even a vapour, that appeareth 
 for a little time and then vanisheth away. For that ye ought to say, 
 if the Lord will, we shall live, and do this or that. But now ye rejoice in 
 your boastings; all such rejoicing is evil." We see then that the offence 
 condemned in the text, is committed by those who, in contemplating 
 and planning even the necessary occupations and pursuits of life, do 
 not keep in mind that they may die before their purposes are accom- 
 plished; that they are constantly and absolutely in the hand of God, — 
 entirely dependant on his sovereign will, not only for the prosperity of 
 their schemes, but for the continuance of life itself. 
 
 2. But the evil we are seeking to ascertain is chargeable, in its high- 
 
'llie Sin and Danger of boasting of To-morrow. 51 
 
 est degree, on those who place any dependance at all on the time to 
 come, for the doing of that which they ought immediately to perform 
 or attempt; and especially for doing that which they ought never to 
 attempt or intend. The author of our text elsewhere admonishes us 
 in these words — " Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy 
 might, for there is no work, nor knowledge, nor device, nor wisdom, in 
 the grave whither thou goest." We are here reminded, that as life is 
 utterly uncertain, we can have no assurance that duty neglected or de- 
 layed, shall ever be performed. Whenever, therefore, it calls for dis- 
 charge, and we do not immediately set about it, w^e give up a certainty 
 for an uncertainty; we risk the danger of final delinquency, with all its 
 endless train of unhappy consequences — In every such neglect or delay 
 then, (as we cannot be supposed to intend our own injury) we boast of 
 to-morrow. We arrogantly challenge and count upon it as a certainty; 
 we act upon it as a matter of which we have the possession and dis- 
 posal. 
 
 But especially, when the things which we purpose to do at a future 
 time are things unlawful in themselves, and which, consequently, we 
 ought never to do or to intend, this boasting reaches its ultimate point 
 of criminality. It is, at once, to claim to-morrow as our own, and to 
 appropriate it to a service worse than neglect itself. This leads us to 
 consider the high concern to which the text chiefly and immediately 
 points, and which is, undoubtedly, the salvation of the soul — To this, 
 therefore, our attention shall be confined through the remainder of the 
 present discourse. In this most interesting business of human life — the 
 care of the soul — men boast of to-morrow in the manner just pointed 
 out. The call and command of God, constituting their duty, with all 
 its solemn sanctions, is — " To-day if ye will hear my voice, harden not 
 your hearts" — That is, "To-day lay most seriously to heart the situa- 
 tion in which you are placed, while enemies to me by wicked works. 
 To-day resolve, in reliance on divine grace, that you will break off 
 your sins by repentance, and that you will make it your great and prin- 
 cipal concern, to secure a saving interest in Jesus Christ. Resolve de- 
 terminately to-day, that this all-important business shall no longer be 
 delayed; but that it shall occupy the most serious and engaged atten- 
 tion of your minds, till it be satisfactorily accomplished — till you have 
 good evidence that, by the renovation of your nature, manifested by a 
 true faith in the Redeemer's merits, and a life of cordial holy obe- 
 dience to all his requisitions, you be truly reconciled to your of- 
 fended God." " No — no," — replies the practice of every delaying sin- 
 ner — ^"To-morrow — a far distant to-morrow, shall be the period of 
 obedience to this call. A considerable space I must yet spend in pur- 
 suing the devices of my own heart. But when I have spent it, then I 
 will yield to the command; then, assuredly, I will embrace the offered 
 mercy; then, without doubt, I will avail myself of the benefits of the 
 Redeemer's purchase." Is not this impiously boasting of to-morrow? 
 first to continue in sin, which ought never to be intended, and finally 
 to obtain salvation, when the opportunity for it may be past forever. 
 But I am anticipating — 
 
 II. The second division of the subject — where we are to consider 
 distinctly, how unreasonable and malignant is the offence we contem- 
 plate, and how dangerous in its tendency and consequences. This, I 
 apprehend, may best be effected, by showing more particularly and 
 fully than has yet been done — 1. That when sinners boast themselves 
 of to-morrow,' they act in a manner highly impious, inasmuch as they 
 
52 The Sin and Danger of boasting of To-morrow. 
 
 assume to themselves the prerogative of God, at the very time that 
 they presume on his indulgence or forbearance: 2. That it is immi- 
 nently dangerous, because the time may never arrive, at which they 
 even purpose to begin a serious attention to their souls: 3. Because, if 
 this time actually arrives, it is probable they will not be more, but less, 
 disposed to enter on this important business then, than now: 4. And 
 finally, because delay grieves the Spirit of grace, and may provoke him 
 to withhold from them at last, those aids which are essential to repent- 
 ance and reformation. 
 
 My brethren — The nature of this subject seems to demand that doc- 
 trine should be mingled with, and not separated from, enforcement and 
 exhortation— This method, therefore, will be adopted in very shortly 
 illustrating the particulars I have specified; and you must expect me 
 to address myself as directly and pointedly as possible, to those who 
 are concerned in the subject. 
 
 First, then, boasting of to-morrow is highly impious, because it is an 
 assumption of the prerogative of God, at the same time that it is a pre- 
 sumption on his patience or forbearance. The full and absolute know- 
 ledge of futurity is possessed by God alone. To his creatnres he has, 
 indeed, revealed it on some occasions, and in a partial and limited man- 
 ner, in the execution of his purposes of wisdom and goodness. But to 
 none of his creatures, not even to the highest angel, hath he given 
 the capacity or the privilege of discerning, indiscriminately, the events 
 which are slumbering in the womb of time. We are told expressly 
 that — " Of that day and that hour knoweth no man, no, not the angels 
 which are in heaven, neither the Son, but the Father." When, there- 
 fore, we assuredly rely on the future for the performance of a duty or 
 a business, do we not, by assuming that future as a certainty, practi- 
 cally usurp to ourselves this right of omniscience? Do we not act as 
 if we saw with certainty, that it would then be in our power to perform 
 what, in our own minds, we thus engage.^ Deceive not yourselves, my 
 hearers. Is there one amongst you who does not intend to secure the 
 salvation of his soul? Where is the person who will say he does not 
 even intend it? Not one will do it — and yet there are many — I appeal 
 to your consciences — there are many, who depend on carrying this in- 
 tention into effect, on the morrow; on the next year; at that period 
 of their lives, be it when it may, which they fancy will be more favour- 
 able to their designs than the present. What is this but assuming that 
 period to yourselves as a certainty? Do you not verily challenge it as 
 your own, by setting it apart to the execution of the most important 
 purpose of your whole lives? Would you throw into it the decision of 
 your everlasting destiny, if you did not assume it as a certainty? Dis- 
 guise it as you will, and delude yourselves as you may, the very lan- 
 guage of your conduct and your heart, is all in the style of this offen- 
 sive arrogance. In this very manner it impeaches the exclusive right 
 of God to know and to dispose of the events of futurity. Not that the 
 reason or conscience of any man will, when consulted, justify or en- 
 dure such language. But on this account the criminality is the greater. 
 Reason and conscience testify, at once, that it is, in the last degree, 
 absurd and wicked thus to act. They testify that you most grossly 
 trifle, and most impiously presume, in thus hazarding your eternal all. 
 They testify that you add provocation to presumption, when you make 
 the expectation of living, an encouragement to continue in sin. Let 
 me reinforce the dictates of reason and conscience, by a plain illustra- 
 tion of this impiety. Suppose that a number of men in civil society 
 
21ie Sin and Danger of boasting of To-morrow, 5S 
 
 should rebelliously wrest from their sovereign a portion of his prero- 
 gativej and not content with this, should then actively employ what 
 they had insolently taken, in giving the most deliberate provocation to 
 him to whom they owed allegiance. What would you say? what do 
 you say, in such a case? You say every thing that can express your 
 sense of the daring character of such guilt. But impenitent and delaying 
 sinners act this very part to the Sovereign of the universe. The fact 
 has been clearly shown. I beseech you to view and detest its baseness, 
 to fear and dread its consequences, and to secure yourselves against its 
 danger, by making the forbearance and goodness of God an argument 
 to lead you to immediate repentance, rather than the ground of har- 
 dening yourselves against him: For be it deeply impressed on your 
 minds — 
 
 2. That delay is unspeakably dangerous, not only for the reason al- 
 ready assigned, but because the time may never arrive, at which you 
 even propose to begin a serious attention to the eternal welfare of your 
 souls. What force is given to this remark by the considerations al- 
 ready suggested? How very probable is it that the God whose pa- 
 tience and grace you are so awfully abusing, will not spare you to the 
 time which you have appointed to seek his favour; will not suffer an 
 encouragement to such wickedness to be given to others, by permitting 
 its plans, in any instance, to be realised. Remember the case of the 
 worldling and sensualist, whose destiny is described by our blessed Sa- 
 viour. While this miserable sinner was pleasing himself with the 
 prospect of unhallowed pleasure, for a long time to come, the awful de- 
 claration was made — " this night thy soul shall be required of thee." 
 And has not the intention of this scriptural example been enforced upon 
 you, by what you have seen with your own eyes? How many have you 
 known whose period of years, whose vigour of constitution, and whose 
 precautions against danger, were as flattering as your own, who have 
 been swept away by the sudden stroke of death. Without apprehen- 
 sion — with all their fears drowned in the tide of " superfluous health'* 
 — perhaps they were rioting, in imagination, on the luxury of unlaw- 
 ful pleasure which to-morrow was to bring to their embrace, when 
 the chilling hand of death was laid upon them, and the opening buds 
 of sensual enjoyment were blasted forever. If such awful instances as 
 these do not prove a warning to those who observe them, verily they 
 have reason to fear that they themselves shall next be cut off, with a 
 sudden destruction. 
 
 But alas! presumption, with many, is not satisfied with asking for 
 to-morrow; if by this we understand a short period, to be devoted to 
 impenitence. It is not till years shall have rolled away in the indul- 
 gence of their lusts, that they have fixed the time, even in imagination, 
 when they will listen to the invitations and accept the offers of divine 
 mercy. Often, indeed, the time is so distant, that if a worldly concern 
 of any moment were to depend on their continuance in life to the pro- 
 posed age, its insurance would be at the highest price. Often it is the 
 hour of sickness and distress, which is to furnish the occasion for re- 
 flection and repentance. Very often, it is delayed till a more easy and 
 comfortable state of their worldly affairs shall afford them more leisure 
 to set about it — Inconsistent mortals! hear me, I beseech you. Would 
 you defer till a far distant period the securing of a rich inheritance, 
 which you might now make your own? If persuaded to such a delay, 
 would you not immediately suspect that he who persuaded you was 
 desirous that you should never possess it? Would you not instantly 
 
54 The Sin and Danger of boasting of To-morrow, 
 
 answer him, that the risk was too great to be hazarded on any terms, 
 but that it would be folly in the abstract, to endanger so valuable a pos- 
 session, when it might as well be made secure. In this example, then, see 
 a faint picture of your folly. An unfading inheritance, an eternal weight 
 of glory, is actually now offered to your acceptance: and yet you will 
 risk the final loss of it, for years on years to come, rather than secure 
 it by present attention. Oh why will you venture thus! Why will you 
 be wise in the fading enjoyments of time, and yet exercise no prudence 
 or care, in relation to the infinite felicities of eternity? Why will you 
 suspect a man when he tempts you to injure your temporal interests, 
 and why will you not suspect the adversary of your immortal souls, 
 when he tempts you to put them to the most awful hazard? 
 
 Is it in sickness that you propose to attend to this great concern? 
 And do you believe that it is a favourable season for the mind to be 
 employed on the most important of all subjects, involving the destinies 
 of eternity, when the body is racked and tortured with disease? Or 
 what assurance have you, that even the use of your reason will be left 
 you then ? How numerous are the instances in which danger is not 
 suspected, or, if foreseen by others, is concealed from the sick, till, by 
 delirium or stupor, it becomes utterly impossible to make the least 
 preparation for death: and will you hazard eternal happiness or misery 
 on such unpromising chances as these? It is an infatuation, this, which 
 forbids us to reason with those who practise it. Suppose at once, the 
 veil to be lifted, which covers eternity from mortal eyes. Look into 
 the mansions of hopeless misery. Ask there — what has peopled those 
 dreadful abodes? Scarcely one despairing ghost that descended thither 
 from under the light of the gospel, but will tell you, that he intended, 
 as you do now, to escape that place of torment. But before he had 
 reached the period, or found the promised circumstances for repent- 
 ance, his eternal, hopeless destiny, was fixed by death: And will you, 
 now, travel the same path that has led those who thus warn you, to 
 endless perdition! God forbid it! Heaven and hell forbid it! Im- 
 prove the present hour. Begin to cry to God from those very seats 
 on which you now sit; and never cease to cry, till you have escaped 
 the danger that awaits you — Be farther urged to this, 
 
 3. By considering, that if the time to which you have postponed an 
 attention to your eternal concerns shall actually arrive, it is not proba- 
 ble you will be more, but less, disposed to regard them seriously the?i, 
 than now. If experience has left any thing incontestable, it is, that all 
 habits strengthen by indulgence, and that every escape from danger 
 hardens the mind against it. These principles apply with as much 
 force to religion, as to any other subject. Hear them recognised 
 in the following strong terms, from the oracles of unerring truth. 
 "Can the Ethiopian change his skin, or the leopard his spots, then 
 may ye, also, do good, that are accustomed to do evil — Because sen- 
 tence against an evil work is not executed speedily, therefore the heart 
 of the sons of men is fully set in them to do evil." The representation 
 here is, that the habits of sin strike such a deep shade of darkness 
 through the whole texture of the soul, as to render it all but impossi- 
 ble that it ever should be purified; and that the divine forbearance it- 
 self, which affords time for reformation, is generally perverted into an 
 encouragement to offend with the more daring obstinacy. We know, 
 indeed, that the power and grace of God are competent to cleanse the 
 most polluted spirit, and to reclaim the most daring rebel. But we 
 know, also, that they are not often employed for this purpose — only 
 
The Sin and Danger of boasting of To-morrow, 55 
 
 often enough to preserve a penitent prodigal from absolute despair. 
 In the spiritual, as in the material or natural world, the general system 
 of operation is conformed to what is called the order of nature — which 
 is God's order. Youth is the season for forming and furnishing the 
 mind, maturer age for confirming it by experience, and fixing it by 
 habit. That this holds in religion, as in every thing else, all observa- 
 tion demonstrates. He who passes youth and middle age without re- 
 ligion, is likely to pass through life, and into eternity, without it. 
 Those, then, who are now in youth, have, at this hour, the most fa- 
 vourable period for attending to their souls, that they will probably 
 ever have. In like manner, those who are advancing, or who have 
 considerably, or even greatly advanced into life, have, at the present 
 instant, an opportunity the most conducive to success, that their past 
 negligence has left within their power. Every step they go forward, 
 they are rendering their situation still worse and worse. The very 
 point on which they are standing, is the point from which, with the 
 most advantage, they may start, if they ever mean to start, in the 
 Christian race. That at any future time, after certain circumstances 
 are arranged to their mind, they will be more disposed to this great 
 concern, is all a delusion — a delusion which all experience, which hu- 
 man nature itself, cries out against. It cries — " You will be less dis- 
 posed then than now; now, therefore, attend to your souls, if you do 
 not intend to lose them forever." An additional reason for this I am 
 now to assign, in the last place — 
 
 4. Namely, that delay grieves the Spirit of grace, and may provoke 
 him to withhold from you, at last, those aids which are essential to re- 
 pentance and reformation. That there is such a thing as outliving the 
 day of grace, must be allowed by all who admit the authority of divine 
 revelation. The scripture speaks of some who seek admittance when 
 "the door is shut;" of some who are " given over to a reprobate mind;" 
 of some to whom " strong delusions are sent" — But listen, in particu- 
 lar, to the following terrible representation. "Because I have called 
 and ye refused, I have stretched out my hand and no man regarded: 
 But ye have set at nought all my counsel and would none of my reproof; 
 I also will laugh at your calamity and mock when your fear cometh: 
 When your fear cometh as desolation, and your destruction cometh as 
 a whirlwind, when distress and anguish cometh upon you. Then shall 
 they call upon me, but I will not answer; they shall seek me early, but 
 they shall not find me: For that they hated knowledge, and did not 
 choose the fear of the Lord: They would none of my counsel, they 
 despised all my reproof; therefore shall they eat of the fruit of their 
 own way, and be filled with their own devices." Instances of the kind 
 here described, where sinners are brought to a sense of their danger 
 when it is too late to escape it, are often, and perhaps only seen, in that 
 very place — on that very bed of disease and death — where they had 
 presumptuously flattered themselves they should not fail of making 
 their peace with God. Brought to the burning verge of eternity, they 
 have found that they could not command divine aid at their own plea- 
 sure; they have found it refused them; their eyes have opened on their 
 danger just time enough to leave an awful warning to others, but too 
 late to escape it themselves. But generally, and perhaps always, ex- 
 cept in such cases as I have just mentioned, when the strivings of 
 God's Spirit are finally withdrawn, the unhappy subjects of the derelic- 
 tion remain insensible to the last. Do you ask for examples of this? 
 I fear you may see them very frequently, in persons who were once, 
 
56 In Benevolent Contributions we serve God with his own, 
 
 and perhaps long or often, impressed with a serious concern for their 
 souls; but by neglect, by carelessness, by delay, they lost their impres- 
 sions; became first cold, then indifferent, then hard as the nether mill- 
 stone, and remained so to their dying hour. Certain it is, that the 
 Spirit of grace was once working on the hearts of these unhappy crea- 
 tures; and equally certain is it (so far as we can judge) that he after- 
 wards deserted and left them forever. 
 
 But perhaps some will be ready to turn this argument against the 
 speaker, and say — " How can we know but that the Spirit of grace has 
 deserted us already; and if he has, vain will be all our exertions, and 
 fruitless all our anxiety" — I answer, God only knows whether some to 
 whom I am speaking, may not actually be among the number of those 
 who are given up to judicial hardness. Those are the most likely to 
 be so, who can hear this subject discussed without anxiety and alarm. 
 But those whose minds are tenderly affected with what they hear*— 
 those who are ready to say, "we would now delay no longer, if we may 
 hope for divine assistance" — all such have an evidence, in their present 
 feeling, that they are not yet finally deserted; for if they were, they 
 would not be likely to experience this sensation. What they now feel 
 they should consider as one more call from the Spirit of grace, to delay 
 no longer: and if the emotion now felt, shall not be suppressed and lost— 
 if it shall be indulged, cherished, and pursued — there is reason to hope 
 for the most salutary event. But while I say this, I must solemnly warn 
 you, that if you extinguish your present convictions, or refuse the pre- 
 sent admonitions, you will greatly increase the danger that your day of 
 grace may be over, even though your life should be prolonged. Here, 
 then, having pursued the deceitful heart through many of its windings, 
 and shown, as far as reason or Scripture can show it, the danger of all its 
 pretences — here I close my address. I close it with offering you, on the 
 authority of God's word, life and eternal salvation, if you to-day repent 
 of your sins, and cast your guilty souls into the arms of Jesus Christ. 
 To-day, if you do this, salvation is yours; though your past transgres- 
 sions be as crimson or as scarlet. But if you boast of to-morrow — wit- 
 ness against yourselves — I tell you that you are likely to perish. I tell 
 you the probability is against you. I tell you there is every reason to 
 iear, that the pretences which have so long deceived you, will deceive 
 you to the last. May God dispose you, "while yet it is called to-day,*' 
 to turn and live. Amen. 
 
 A CHiUlIT'S' SERMOir. 
 
 IN BENEVOLENT CONTRIBUTIONS WE SERVE GOD WITH HIS OWN. 
 
 1 Chron. xxix. 14, last clause. — The whole verse is thus — " But who am I, and 
 what is my people, that we should be able to offer so willingly after this sort ? — for all 
 things come of thee, and of thine own have we given thee." 
 
 These are the words of David, king of Israel, " the man after God's 
 own heart." He had purposed to build the temple of Jehovah at Jeru- 
 salem, that the ark of his covenant might no longer abide in a tent, 
 but occupy a permanent place of deposit; — a structure which, by 
 its magnificence and costliness, might be a standing and striking 
 monument of the devotion of the nation to Jehovah the God of Israel; 
 and by its spaciousness and accommodations, might [enable both the 
 
In Benevolent Contributions we serve God with his own. 57 
 
 priests and the people to perform the service of the sanctuary in the 
 most perfect and agreeable manner. This was a work which, for a 
 long time, lay near the heart of David. He Avas commended of 
 God "in that he had it in his heart," but was expressly forbidden to 
 carry it into effect himself; and as expressly commanded to commit it 
 to his son and successor Solomon. David — possessing a temper whol- 
 ly unlike what we sometimes witness in zealous men, who seem to be 
 but little desirous that good should be done, if it be not done by them- 
 selves — David determined that if he could not be a principal and con- 
 spicuous agent in this business, he would, at least, be an humble under- 
 workman — If he might not be permitted to build the house, he would 
 employ himself in gathering and preparing the materials. In this em- 
 ployment, accordingly, he engaged with activity and effect. Having 
 made many preparations, for a length of time, when he drew toward 
 the close of life, he completed them by a great and noble effort. He 
 assembled together all the men of rank, authority, influence and 
 wealth, in his kingdom; made to them a solemn and affecting address 
 on the subject; and charged Solomon in their presence to go forward 
 with the work, and them to assist him in it. But he did not content 
 himself with making a persuasive and pious speech. He set them an 
 example of munificence, by giving of his own private property three 
 thousand talents of gold, and seven thousand talents of refined silver. 
 This example had — what such examples will usually have — a very 
 powerful eftect. All who beheld it seemed to catch the spirit of libe- 
 rality; and donations to a surprising amount were freely and cheer- 
 fully made. The heart of the good old monarch appears to have been 
 so gladdened and melted by this event, that he could not restrain his 
 emotions. He broke forth into solemn thanksgiving to God, before 
 the august assembly. And here his humility was as remarkable, as his 
 liberality had been great. He arrogated no praise to himself, nor be- 
 stowed any on the other donors, for what had been done. He ascribed 
 it all to God, who had first enabled and then disposed them, to make 
 these offerings — " Who" — says he in the text — " Who am I, and what 
 is my people, that we should be able to offer so willingly after this 
 sort.^^ — for all things come of thee, and of thine own have we given 
 thee." Happy they, who do acts of liberality with such a spirit, and 
 afterwards review them with such a temper! "All things come of 
 thee, and of thine own have we given thee"— -In farther discoursing on 
 these words — the original occasion of which has been explained — I 
 shall endeavour — 
 
 I. To illustrate the truth asserted in the text, that " all things come 
 of God," and consequently that we serve him " with his own," when 
 we employ his gifts in doing what he requires. 
 
 II. Deduce from the truth illustrated, a number of practical and im- 
 portant inferences. 
 
 First, then, I am to illustrate the truth that " all things come of 
 God," and consequently that we serve him with his own, when we 
 employ his gifts in doing what he requires. 
 
 My brethren — The assertion in the text that " all things come of 
 God," needs no other limitation or qualification to render it a truth in 
 the full extent and meaning of the terms, than that we should under- 
 stand that only all good things are here spoken off and this will be im- 
 mediately perceived to have been the understanding of him who used 
 the words, by any one who considers their connexion or design. It 
 would, therefore, be a doctrine, true in itself, and capable of the fuU- 
 H 
 
58 In Benevolent Contributions we serve God with his own. 
 
 est proof both from reason and Scripture, to maintain that not only 
 all our earthly possessions, but all our intellectual endowments and 
 improvements, all our moral dispositions and habits, and every incli- 
 nation that we ever feel, either to serve God acceptably, or to do good 
 to men, are really and strictly of him "from whom cometh down 
 every good and every perfect gift:" and therefore that in the employ- 
 ment or exercise of any of tliese things, we do no more than serve our 
 Maker with a part of his own bounty. As this, however, is a doctrine 
 too extensive in its nature to be suitably handled in a single discourse, 
 as well as somewhat beside the immediate purpose for which I now 
 address you, so it is not, I think, the doctrine which the text was spe- 
 cially designed to teach. When David says in the text — " All things 
 come of thee, and of thine own have we given thee," there can be no 
 doubt that he directly refers to that worldly affluence, wealth or pro- 
 perty, which he and others possessed, and which had enabled them to 
 make such costly offerings to the Lord. — In this limited view, there- 
 fore, I shall at present treat the subject; and I do this the more will- 
 ingly, because I believe that this is a view of the subject which, al- 
 though by no means unimportant in itself, or perplexed in its nature, 
 yet is too seldom taken, even by serious persons. They are ready to 
 allow that divine grace h the gift of God, and that singular dispensa- 
 tions of Providence come immediately from his hand. But in regard 
 to their ivorldly siibsfance, perhaps gradually ac<iuired, and in the ac- 
 quisition of which their contrivance and management, their laborious 
 efforts and persevering industry, have been constantly exerted, they 
 are not so sensible of the truth. They do not at least, so deeply and 
 constantly realize that whatever they possess in this way, cometh as 
 truly of God as if he had given it to them by the most remarkable 
 and extraordinary dispensation of providence; and of course, that 
 when they use it in his service, they do no more than serve him with 
 his own. This, therefore, is the point which seems to call for our 
 special attention, and which we are particularly to regard on this oc- 
 casion: — And yet, my brethren, when we distinctly fix our attention 
 on it, we shall find it, as already hinted, a matter of great plainness, 
 in regard to which the mind does not so much need conviction or ar- 
 gument, as to be refreshed with truths which have slipt from its recol- 
 lection, and to which it is prepared to assent as soon as they are again 
 distinctly presented to its view. In a word, the doctrine before us is 
 nothing else than the doctrine of a particular providence, applied to a 
 specific point or suijject. 
 
 Lei us suppose, in the first place, that a competent, or a liberal, or a 
 profuse measure of worldly wealth is possessed, as an inheritance 
 from parents, ancestors, or friends: and then we ask — who was it that 
 enabled those parents, ancestors, or friends, to acquire that wealth at 
 first? and who disposed them, after it was acquired, to give it to you 
 as your inheritance.^ How many instances have you seen, of persons 
 who once had the power, the prospect, and the expectation of be- 
 queathing riches and independence to their posterity, or their friends, 
 who have, at last, died in poverty themselves, and left the same por- 
 tion to those who succeeded them? How often, by occurrences that 
 could not be foreseen, or by fraud, treachery and deceit that could not 
 be prevented, has a patrimony, or a legacy, been entirely and forever 
 kept from those for whom it was intended, and to whom, in justice, it 
 belonged.^ Pursuing aright the thoughts which these inquiries may 
 suggest, it will appear that property possessed by inheritance cometh 
 
In Benevolent Contributions we serve God with his own, 59 
 
 of God, as really as that which is obtained in any other way— Nay, 
 as it comes to the possessor without any of his own labour or care, a 
 tribute of thankfulness seems to be especially due to that kind provi- 
 dence which ordered his lot so favourably; and it becomes him pecu- 
 liarly to remember, that in employing^ this property in any benevolent 
 acts, he does no more than serve God with his own gift. 
 
 Or has any one become rapidly or suddenly possessed of wealth, or 
 an easy estate? It has already been remarked, that men are sometimes 
 more ready to allow that this cometh of God, than in cases where pro- 
 perty is gradually and laboriously acquired. Yet to this very case, a 
 remark which belongs generally to the whole subject applies with pe- 
 culiar force — It is, that as all possessions which are not lawfully or 
 honestly obtained, do not, in the sense of the text, come of God, so 
 this is more frequently the case when riches are rapidly accumulated 
 than in many other instances. ** He that maketh haste to be rich, savs 
 Solomon, shall not be innocent" — " They that will be rich, says the 
 apostle, fall into temptation and a snare, and into many foolish and hurt- 
 ful lusts that drown men in destruction and perdition." All the gains of 
 unrighteousness, in whatever way acquired, come not of God: that is, 
 they come not as a blessing, and are never held with his approbation. 
 He even rejects them from his service, for "he will not have robbery 
 for a burnt offering." Whoever expects to bribe the approbation of 
 heaven to deeds of fraud and injustice, by giving to charitable or 
 pious designs, will find himself av^fully disappointed. Such a man 
 attempts by giving a part of what is not his own, to obtain a license 
 to hold the remainder. No. Let him restore to its rightful owner that 
 which has been unlawfully taken; or if this owner cannot be found, let 
 him give to the Lord the last farthing of his ill-gotten pelf. " Behold 
 — said the truly penitent Zaccheus — behold the half of my goods I give 
 to the poor, and if I have taken aught from any man, by false accusation, 
 I restore him four-fold." But if, by the peculiar smiles of providence 
 on our lawful enterprise or industry, we are prosjDcred in an unexpected 
 and unusual degree, and wealth is suddenly or rapidly thrown into our 
 hands, then indeed, we have reason to say with special propriety, 
 "this cometh of the Lord:" and if we have any right views of duty, 
 we shall see that we but serve God with his own, when we are liberal 
 of this property, in promoting every pious and useful design. 
 
 This is also true, in regard to those possessions which are acquired 
 slowly, difficultly, and laboriously. Did you use mucli management and 
 contrivance in getting what you possess? Were you very diligent, assi- 
 duous and persevering? Were you frugal and economical in all your 
 concerns, that you might save a little? And who was it that gave you 
 that capacity, that turn of mind for management and enterprise, which 
 has made the whole difference between you and those improvident 
 creatures, whom the want of foresight, contrivance, or resolution, 
 keeps in perpetual poverty? Who was it that gave and preserved to 
 you that health and activity, without which all your endeavours must 
 have been suspended or prevented, and for the want of which, so many 
 labour under the accumulated pressure of penury and disease? Who 
 was it that produced those favourable occurrences, which introduced 
 you into business, and which rendered that business profitable.^ Wlio 
 was it that saved you from those disastrous mistakes, and accidents, 
 and losses, by which hundreds of honest and industrious men are con- 
 stantly thrown backward, and kept from getting on prosperously in the 
 world.^ Who was it that has rendered your business-enterprises sue- 
 
60 In Benevolent Contributions we serve God ivith his own. 
 
 cessful, when thousands, who have wanted neither skill, nor diligence, 
 nor integrity, can scarcely keep themselves and their families above 
 absolute want? Who has preserved your property, since it was ob- 
 tained, from the destruction of fire and storm; and from a thousand 
 incidents, ag-ainst which human wisdom and power cannot provide, 
 and by which " riches make to themselves wings and fly away?" Who 
 was it? — It was God that did all this. He did for you that which you 
 could not do for yourselves — that, without which, you would have 
 been, at this hour, as poor as any unhappy mortal that asks your cha- 
 rity. AH your possessions, then, have actually come of God — He has 
 given them to you; and whenever you lay out a part of them, in any 
 service that he requires, you only give him of his own. 
 
 It were easy, my brethren, to pursue this train of thought to a much 
 greater length — It were easy to show in detail, that as "the earth is 
 the Lord's and the fulness thereof," as he is the Creator — the original 
 and absolute proprietor of all the good things that we possess; and as 
 it is by the order of his providence, and by that alone, that they are 
 conveyed into our hands, they do all, in the most emphatic sense, 
 " come of him:" And that, whenever we expend, in a service that he 
 requires, something of this store that he hath put in our keeping, it 
 is no more than serving him. with his own property. But these ideas 
 are too plain to need explanation, although they well deserve a careful 
 remembrance. I therefore proceed — 
 
 II. To deduce from what has been stated a number of practical and 
 important inferences. 
 
 First, then, If all that we possess be given us of God, and we do 
 but serve him with his own, when we make the best and most liberal 
 use of our property, then assuredly, we have no reason to be proud, 
 or to appear great in our own eyes, either on account of what v/e pos- 
 sess, or of any good purposes which we may promote by it. This is 
 the im.portant and practical truth which is taught us in the text and 
 context, by the language and the conduct of their royal and inspired 
 author. He possessed much, and he did and devoted much to the ser- 
 vice of God, and yet he takes no praise to himself — Nay, he was truly 
 humbled, as every good man will be, in thinking that so unworthy a 
 creature as he, should be so favoured and distinguished by a kind pro- 
 vidence, as to be able to do the desirable service which had been per- 
 formed. Contrast with this, the arrogant and impious spirit of ano- 
 ther monarch, the proud king of Babylon; and let his awful doom prove 
 a warning to us, not to ascribe to our own wisdom or efforts what be- 
 longs to the divine bounty — " All this came upon the king Nebuchad- 
 nezzar. At the end of twelve months, he walked in the palace of the 
 kingdom of Babylon. The king spake and said — is not this great Ba- 
 bylon which I have built? for the house of the kingdom, by the might 
 of my power and for the honour of my majesty. While the word was 
 in the king's mouth, there fell a voice from heaven saying — O king 
 Nebuchadnezzar! to thee it is spoken; the kingdom is departed from 
 thee: And they shall drive thee from men, and thy dwelling shall be 
 with the beasts of the field; they shall make thee eat grass as oxen, 
 and seven times shall pass over thee, until thou know that the Most 
 High ruleth in the kingdom of men, and giveth it to whomsoever he 
 will." Brethren, be our situation what it may, let us always remem- 
 ber that "pride was not made for man." Gratitude — the most lively 
 and the most humble gratitude to God — is the sentiment that we ought 
 to feel and cherish, when the divine bounty renders our worldly cir- 
 
In Benevolent Contributions we serve God with his own. 61 
 
 cumstances comfortable, or enables us to do good to others. But the 
 nioineat that pride begins to swell and inllate our foolish hearts, we 
 act the very part of a beggar, who applauds himself because he has 
 received an alms. 
 
 2. If worldly wealth cometh of God, then he has an undoubted 
 right both to withhold it, and to take it away, according to his sove- 
 reign pleasure. Children of poverty — God has done you no wrong, 
 in not giving you the riches of this world. Shall he not do what he 
 will with his own? Perhaps he has seen your present condition to be 
 best for you. — Perhaps he keeps you poor at present, that he may 
 bestow upon you " the true riches" in an eternal state. Let no mur- 
 muring or repining emotions be indulged against his sovereign will: 
 And if any to whom I speak, were once in other and better circum- 
 stances than they now are permitted to enjoy, let them remember, that 
 what they possessed was only lent of God; and that he had a right to 
 call and take it whenever he pleased. 
 
 " He gave, and blessed be his name, 
 He takes but vvliat he gave" — 
 
 Think of the language of holy Job when deprived, not only of all 
 his wealth, which had been great indeed, but of all his friends, and 
 his Ijodily health and ease — " Naked came I out of my mother's womb, 
 and naked shall I return thither. The Lord gave, and the Lord hath 
 taken away, blessed be the name of the Lord I" 
 
 3. If all that we possess comes of God, and we serve him with his 
 own, in all the good that we do, then surely it follows, that the kind- 
 ness, grace and condescension, of our heavenly Father is most con- 
 spicuous, in rewarding us for every good work, as if it had been 
 wholly our own. In the great day of final account, Jesus Christ, our 
 Saviour and our Judge, represents himself as conferring the heavenly 
 inheritance, purchased by his own infinite merits, and conveyed to his 
 people by his own infinite grace, on those who have fed the hungry, 
 clothed the naked, visited the sick, and relieved the prisoner, from a re- 
 gard to him and to his commandment. Most generous master! — most 
 condescending Redeemer!— thou givest us all the means, and all the 
 disposition to do good that w^e ever possess, and then thou commend- 
 est and rewardest it, as if it had belonged wholly to ourselves. Let 
 this be an example to those who receive the charity of others. It in- 
 deed comes from God, and to him your principal gratitude is due; 
 but if he rewards the instruments that dispense this bounty, you cer- 
 tainly ought to love, and to pray for a blessing on them. 
 
 4. We learn from this subject that a truly godly person, so far as he 
 acts agreeably to this character, does and will, consider himself in no 
 other light than as a steward of that portion of worldly wealth, -which 
 divine providence has entrusted to him; that agreeably to this idea he 
 is to dispose of his property, and agreeably to this idea he is to ac- 
 count for it at last. It is this, my brethren, which distinguishes the 
 real practical Christian from the man of the world, in regard to worldly 
 things. The man of the world considers them as his own, — his pro- 
 perty, — his portion: but the real Christian who views them in the light 
 of faith, sees that they are not his own, — not his property — not his 
 portion. The whole belongs to God, and he is only a steward, put in 
 trust, to manage it to the best account. He serves indeed an indul- 
 gent miaster, who permits him to take enough for his own comfort, and 
 lomake a suitable provision for his posterity, or dependents. But he 
 is not at liberty to consume more than this: he is to waste nothing; he 
 
62 Christ a Rock. 
 
 is to use no more than his comfort requires, and he is to give no more 
 to his children than, in his best judgment, he believes will make them 
 most useful. All the rest, be it more or less, he is to employ in serv- 
 ing God. This is the rule by which a Christian should walk; by 
 which some have actually and honestly walked — And yet — tell it not 
 in Gath — there are many worldly men who will give more — and more 
 cheerfully — to any charitable or pious design, than some who make a 
 high profession of Christian piety. 
 
 " That man may last, but never lives, 
 Who much receives but little gives; 
 Whom none can love, whom none can thank, 
 Creation's blot, creation's blank. 
 
 But he who marks, from day to day, 
 With generous acts his radiant way, ' 
 Treads the same path his Saviour trod, 
 The path to glory and to God." 
 
 SERMOir. 
 
 CHRIST A ROCK. 
 
 1 Cor. X. 4. — " For they drank of that spiritual rock that followed them, and that 
 rock was Christ." 
 
 By figurative representations some of the most important instruc- 
 tions of divine revelation are communicated. Under the typical dis- 
 pensation of Moses especially, there was scarcely any public act, occur- 
 rence or institution, which did not import more than at first appeared; 
 and while it served some obvious present purpose, did not point also to 
 some more remote and hidden, but yet more spiritual and important 
 object or end. This spiritual signification of the ancient Jewish sym- 
 bols, though it was often perceived, and was highly beneficial to the 
 believing Israelites, was not intended merely, nor perhaps principally, 
 for their benefit. It is under the gospel dispensation that the intention 
 of all the types is most clearly unfolded; so that by viewing them in re- 
 trospect, and with the advantage derived from the light of the gospel, 
 more may be discovered by a Christian than could be known to a Jew. 
 To aid us in this useful investigation, the inspired writers of the New 
 Testament often become our teachers and guides. They frequently ad- 
 vert to the Hebrew scriptures for the illustration and enforcement of 
 what they deliver: and thus by a kind of double revelation, the wisdom 
 of God is most conspicuously displayed, the faith of believers most 
 powerfully confirmed, the beauty of sacred truth most engagingly ex- 
 hibited, and its whole design most fully accomplished. Among innu- 
 merable passages which show the truth of this representation, the text 
 is one of the most striking. 
 
 The apostle labours in the context to excite a holy circumspection 
 in the Corinthian Christians, lest slighting or misimproving their pe- 
 culiar privileges, they should lose the blessings which these privileges 
 were calculated to convey. With this view, he points their attention, 
 both for encouragement and warning, to the history of the people of 
 Israel under the conduct of Moses in the wilderness. Speaking, in this 
 connexion, of the miraculous supply of water which followed them on 
 their journey, he denominates it " spiritual drink;" and then to explain 
 the reason of his giving it this appellation, he says — " For they drank 
 
Christ a Rock. 63 
 
 of that spiritual rock that followed them, and that rock was Christ." 
 By a figure of speech, too frequent in its use and too obvious in its inn- 
 port to be misapprehended, the people are here said to have drunk of the 
 rock that followed theni, instead of the water which flowed from it; and 
 the attention is awakened to investigate the meaning of the bold and 
 comprehensive metaphor which is used, when the apostle affirms that 
 this rock was Christ. 
 
 To unfold the intention of this metaphor, and explain and apply the 
 design of the whole expression, is the object of the present discourse. 
 In doing this, it will be useful, in order to avoid the danger of torturing 
 the figurative language of the inspired penman to a meaning foreign to 
 his own, to consider attentively the spiritual truth intended to be con- 
 veyed; to state this truth distinctly and summarily at once; and then to 
 recall the sensible images, only for the purpose of illustration or en- 
 forcement. Agreeably to this, let it be carefully remarked, that there 
 are three distinct things comprehended in the type we consider. First, 
 — The rock, which was the source, or fountain, from which the water 
 flowed: Secondly — The streams themselves, by which the thirst of the 
 people was allayed, and their strength invigorated: Thirdly — The ulti- 
 mate object for which the whole was done; namely, to conduct the Is- 
 rael of God to the promised land. Now, as the apostle asserts that this 
 rock was Christ, 1 think the propositions of evangelical truth corres- 
 ponding to the sensible and temporal things just stated, are plainly the 
 three foUowing^ — 
 
 I. That the believer's hope of salvation must derive its very origin 
 from Christ Jesus, or be placed on him alone. 
 
 II. That a resort must constantly be made to the never-failing ful- 
 ness of the Saviour, for all those supplies of grace and strength, which 
 are necessary to refresh and invigorate the Christian, in his passage 
 through the world. 
 
 III. That the ultimate design, and the sure result of all, is, that the 
 faithful disciple of Christ shall at length possess the heavenly inherit- 
 ance. 
 
 After speaking very briefly to each of these points, the discourse 
 shall be concluded with a practical application. 
 
 First, then, we are to consider — That the believer's hope of salvation 
 must derive its very origin from Christ Jesus, or be placed on him 
 alone. As the rock smitten by Moses furnished the fountain, from 
 which sprang forth the water which saved the thirsty Israelite from 
 death, so Christ, when "stricken, smitten of God and afilicted," pour- 
 ed forth that blood of the atonement, which alone can save from eter- 
 nal death, the perishing soul, which hastens to it for relief Hence the 
 Saviour himself, " in the last day, that great day of the feast, stood and 
 cried — if any man thirst, let him come unto me and drink." His 
 atonement and righteousness only, are the "fountain opened to the 
 house of David and inhal)itants of Jerusalem, for sin and for unclean- 
 ness." Or if, taking another figure furnished by the sacred writers, 
 you view this rock, not as a fountain, but as a foundation, on which the 
 hope of eternal life is built, — then we are assured that "other founda- 
 tion can no man lay than that is laid, w^hich is Jesus Christ — Behold I 
 lay in Zion a chief corner stone, elect, precious; and he that believeth 
 on him shall not be confounded. Ye are built upon the foundation of 
 the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ himself being the chief corner 
 stone." But, my brethren, to the fountain contemplated none will come, 
 on the foundation laid in Zion none will rest, till the absolute necessity 
 
64 Christ a Rock. 
 
 of doing it is felt, in a manner the most urgent and pressing. Till a 
 sinner see clearly and undoubtingly, that without a vital union with 
 Christ he is sure to perish, he will never embrace the Saviour " as a)l 
 his salvation and all his desire." Without such a perception indeed, it 
 is impossible that the necessary application should be made. How great 
 is the number of those who enjoy the gospel, to whom the Redeemer 
 never appears precious? They hear the declarations of his suitableness, 
 and the invitations of his grace, without interest or concern. Asleep 
 in their sins, they perceive not the burning gulf that is working be- 
 neath them, and therefore see no necessity of escaping for their lives to 
 a place of safety. Nor is it enough merely that the sinner be alarmed. 
 Many have had their fears excited, who have never "fled for refuge to 
 lay hold on the hope set before them" in the gospel. If the awakened 
 conscience be quieted with the belief that some tears of penitence, a 
 partial reformation, or abstaining from gross sins, will be sufficient— 
 nay, if making many prayers, attending on all ordinances, attempting 
 all duties, and exhibiting an unexceptionable deportment, be relied on 
 as the meritorious cause of acceptance with God, the sinner is misera- 
 bly deluded. Ah I my brethren, this specious self-righteousness, in 
 whatever way, and many are the ways, in which men attempt to 
 build upon it, is not the rock which will sustain the fabric of your 
 eternal hopes. Here is " the sandy foundation," against which our 
 Lord himself hath warned us; and whoever builds upon it, will find that 
 in the day of trial, when the wind shall blow, and the storm shall beat, 
 and the floods shall come, this "refuge of lies" will be swept away, and 
 he who had taken shelter in it will be lost in the abyss of final ruin. 
 But when, under the influences of the Spirit of grace, an eff^ectual con- 
 viction of guilt takes hold on the conscience of a sinner; wdien he sees 
 the depths of depravity which exist in his very heart and nature, and 
 the violations of the holy law of God which have filled up his whole 
 life; when he sees that he can off'er no excuse and make no escape; 
 when he is made impressively sensible that nothing he can do, or work 
 out of himself, can be any recommendation of him to the divine fa- 
 vour; when he realizes that an infinite atonement and a finished righ- 
 teousness is what he needs, and must have, or be undone forever; then 
 in very deed he is " shut up unto the faith" of the gospel. And when, 
 by the enlightening and regenerating influences of divine grace, he is 
 made to discern clearly, that " Christ is the end of the law for righ- 
 teousness to every one that believeth;" — that in him there is all that 
 can be asked in a Saviour; that the veracity of God offers him even to 
 the chief of sinners who will accept him freely; that " whosoever be- 
 lieveth in him shall not perish, but have everlasting life;" and when the 
 will and affections fully and delightfully approve of this plan and offer; 
 then the soul is won to Jesus. Then, throwing away with abhorrence 
 every remnant of his own righteousness, abandoning every plea, and 
 every hope, and every wish of deliverance from any other quarter; 
 viewing with holy rapture the glory of God displaying its splendours 
 in the gospel plan of salvation, the sinner grasps the Saviour as his all 
 — choosing with infinite preference that Christ should be "made of God 
 unto him wisdom and righteousness, sanctification and redemption;" 
 then the soul is founded on the roc/c Christ Jesics — the rock of ages, 
 against which the gates of hell shall never prevail. Now, " being jus- 
 tified by faith, the believing penitent has peace with God through our 
 Lord Jesus Christ" — The sweet sense of this " peace which passeth all 
 understanding," the joy which arises from the humble confidence of 
 
Christ a Rock. 65 
 
 pardoned guilt, the assurance that sin shall not have dominion over 
 him, and that all that God hath promised he is not only able but assur- 
 edly engaged to perform; this is the first draught of the fountain of 
 life flowing from the rock Christ Jesus, which rejoices and enlivens 
 that which a little before was a weary and heavy laden spirit. But 
 still, though the believer be thus comforted and strengthened for the 
 present, the wilderness is not yet passed 5 it is only entered, and through 
 it lies yet before him the tedious and trying journey which leads to the 
 heavenly rest — And, therefore, I have said — 
 
 II. That a resort must constantly be had to the never-failing fulness 
 of the Saviour, for all those supplies of grace and strength, which are 
 necessary to refresh and invigorate the Christian in his passage through 
 the world. 
 
 Speaking of our blessed Lord, the author of our text asserts that " it 
 hath pleased the Father that in him should all fulness dwell:" yea, that 
 " in him dwelleth all the fulness of the Godhead bodily:" And the 
 apostle John affirms, that " of his fulness have all we received and 
 grace for grace." By the most various and impressive language of 
 inspiration is the doctrine taught and inculcated, that all the spiritual 
 wants of the believer are provided for in the Redeemer, and that from 
 him relief is to be sought and obtained. Like the unfailing and inex- 
 haustible streams that followed the chosen people of Heaven through 
 all the dry and inhospitable deserts which they had to pass; so the 
 streams of divine grace which flow from the fulness of their redeeming 
 God, follow his chosen ones through all the thorny and thirsty wilds of 
 their mortal life: And happy is it, beyond estimation, that such is the 
 fact; for their wants are both numerous and incessantly recurring. He 
 can only have entered the school of Christ, who supposes that when a 
 vital union with him is effected, every difficulty is past. Alas! they 
 who know most by experience of the Christian course, can tell most of 
 the various difficulties that lie in the way. When, indeed, a full draught 
 has been received of " the water of life," whether at the beginning of 
 a converted state, or after much progress in it, the soul is so cheered 
 and satisfied, that it seems as if distress was gone forever. Like one 
 who has just extinguished all his natural thirst by drinking largely at 
 a pleasant fountain, the idea can scarcely be realized that the painful 
 sensations, now completely removed, will speedily return. The present 
 relief is so complete, that it seems as if it must be lasting. But in 
 both cases the event is the same. As the natural refreshments which 
 we take to-day, however agreeable or abundant, will not serve us for 
 to-morrow, so in the spiritual life, no comforts or cordials of which 
 we have tasted in time past, will suffice us for the time to come. "Give 
 us day by day our daily bread" — is a petition not more applicable to 
 the body than it is to the soul. It was not more necessary for the 
 Hebrew in the wilderness to go daily, and more than once in a day, to 
 " the rock that followed him," than it is for the Christian pilgrim, in 
 the wilderness of this sinful world, to go as frequently to the rock of 
 his salvation, — to the fulness of Christ, there to beg and to receive the 
 supply of his new necessities. 
 
 It is an important advice given by the penman of the text, in his 
 epistle to the Colossians, " as ye have received Christ Jesus the Lord 
 so walk ye in him:" — That is — "Be careful to preserve inviolate the 
 union that is formed between your souls and the Redeemer; and in the 
 same manner in which you came to and embraced him at first, continue 
 to come, to the end of life — Continue, after you have known him ever 
 I 
 
66 Christ a Rock, 
 
 so long;, to receive him by the acts of faith, just as you received him at 
 first; as a complete Saviour, to pardon freely all your sins, and to 
 quicken, sanctify, uphold and preserve you." The present state, my 
 Christian brethren, was intended to be a constant trial of the faith and 
 patience of the saints. The world, the flesh and the devil, are their 
 enemies; and in all the multiform ways in which they can produce an- 
 noyance, it will to the very last be experienced. A volume would 
 scarcely suffice to delineate all the difficulties and distresses, all the 
 doubts, fears, conflicts and temptations, that may assail the Christian 
 pilgrim who has set his face toward Mount Zion above. But blessed 
 be God, there is not one case, nor one situation, in which a child of his 
 ever can be placed, but there is provision made for it in the covenant 
 of grace, in the fulness of Christ. To him, therefore, let the constant 
 resort be made; to him let the importunate application be incessantly 
 addressed; and though for a time, and for a trial of faith, he may 
 seem to refuse, yet in the end he will assuredly afford relief. If your 
 necessities. Christian brethren, be frequent, numerous and pressing, 
 let your entreaties be as frequent, numerous and pressing as your 
 wants. When you suffer most, imitate your Saviour in his agony, and 
 cry to him the more earnestly. When you are the most thirsty, come 
 the most frequently to the fountain: — "To him that is athirst will I 
 give (saith Christ,) of the fountain of the water of life freely." And to 
 thy Saviour, in the hour of death, as in every past hour, be thy soul, 
 O believer! committed; and he will not fail either to cheer it by his 
 sensible presence, or to keep it in safety by his almighty power. For 
 we are now to show — 
 
 III. That the ultimate design and the sure result of all this provision 
 of grace is, that the faithful disciple of Christ shall, at length, possess 
 the heavenly inheritance. 
 
 The miracle which was wrought by the instrumentality of Moses to 
 supply the camp of Israel with water, was only a mean necessary to 
 an important end. The God of their fathers had engaged to give them 
 the land of Canaan for an inheritance and possession. — To preserve 
 them from death, in crossing the parched and barren regions which 
 lay between them and the promised land, the waters were made to flow 
 at their side. The relief which these waters afforded from threatening 
 death, and the temporary comforts which they produced in a sultry 
 climate, were indeed blessings in themselves; but still they were only 
 preparatory to greater and more durable blessings in reserve. They 
 were but the indispensable provision for those who were travelling to 
 a fixed home and a settled rest, and were given to insure an arrival 
 there. There, when they arrived, they would, in place of a solitary 
 stream, find " a good land, a land of brooks of water, of fountains and 
 depths that spring out of valleys and hills; a land of wheat and barley, 
 and vines, and fig-trees, and pomegranates; a land of oil-olive and 
 honey; a land wherein thou shalt eat bread without scarceness; thou 
 shalt not lack any thing in it." Just so the supplies of divine grace 
 which are now aff'orded to the Christian, are only a foretaste and pre- 
 sage of better things to come. They are given to strengthen him on 
 his way to the heavenly Canaan, to the rest which remaineth for the 
 people of God, and to insure its eventual possession. This is the de- 
 claration of our Lord himself — " Whosoever drinketh of the water 
 that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give 
 him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life." 
 That is — ^^ The graces of the divine Spirit, given to those who truly 
 
Christ a Rock, 67 
 
 believe on me, shall produce within the possessor a source of happi- 
 ness that shall ultimately extinguish every uneasy desire after it — for 
 these graces shall continue and increase till they terminate in that 
 everlasting- life of which they are the earnest, and of which they insure 
 the possession." 
 
 Yes, beloved brethren, to whomsoever the special grace of God is 
 imparted, it insures eternal glory as the consequence. This is the 
 divine purpose in the gift, and nothing can prevent its accomplish- 
 ment. Hence, saith the apostle, " he which stablisheth us with you 
 in Christ, and hath anointed us, is God. Who hath also sealed us, and 
 given the earnest of the Spirit in our hearts." And the divine Saviour 
 declares — " My sheep hear my voice, and I know them and they follow 
 me: And I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, 
 neither shall any pluck them out of my hand. My Father which gave 
 them me is greater than all, and none is able to pluck them out of my 
 Father's hand — I and my Father are one." The most of those indeed 
 who left the land of Egyptian bondage under Moses fell, through un- 
 belief, in the wilderness; and this should serve as a solemn admoni- 
 tion to all professing Christians to guard against the same evil — For 
 the apostle warns us in the context — "That all these things happened 
 unto them for ensamples; and they are written for our admonition 
 upon whom the ends of the world are come — Wherefore let him that 
 thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall." Rut though many nomi- 
 nal and visible Christians who have partaken of all ordinances in the 
 church on earth, shall never be admitted to the church triumphant 
 above, still it is a truth, that none of the real people of God shall fall, 
 as the faithless Israelites did in the wilderness — He who is able to make 
 them stand will still uphold them; will recall them from all their wan- 
 derings; will preserve them from all their enemies; will at length bring 
 every individual to the Canaan above; and confer upon them "an inhe- 
 ritance, incorruptible and undefiled, and that fadeth not away." There 
 their sorrows, their sufferings, and their sins, shall cease together; and 
 they shall drink of the rivers of pleasure that flow at God's right hand. 
 " They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more; neither shall the 
 sun light upon them nor any heat. But the Lamb that is in the midst 
 of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them to living fountains 
 of waters, and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes: — and 
 there shall be no more death, neither sorrow nor crying, neither shall 
 there be any more pain; for the former things are passed away." 
 
 It now remains to apply the subject. 
 
 In the first place, then — From what you have heard, let professing 
 Christians be exhorted to examine with frequency and care, whether 
 they have truly rested their souls on the rock Christ Jesus. Many, we 
 are assured will, in the day of final retribution, say — " Lord, Lord, have 
 we not eaten and drunk in thy presence, and thou hast taught in our 
 streets" — to whom he will profess, " I never knew you; depart from 
 me, all ye that work iniquity." And how dismaying, beyond concep- 
 tion, must be the rejection and condemnation of those who have gone 
 into eternity confidently expecting to meet the plaudit and acceptance 
 of their judge? Let us, then, my Christian brethren, with frequent and 
 jealous scrutiny, examine whether we have been taught and enabled to 
 place our salvation truly and wholly in the hands of Christ: whether 
 we have felt, and do constantly feel, that we are infinitely vile and un- 
 unworthy in ourselves, and in consequence of this, are looking to him, 
 and depending on him as our all: whether we do earnestly desire that 
 
68 Christ a Rock. 
 
 he would help us to contend against all sin, and that he would more 
 and more deliver us from it: whether he appears as a precious Saviour 
 to our souls, because he is "to save his people /rom their sins:" whe- 
 ther we do resolve to cleave to him and his ways, in all the acts of 
 holy obedience, even to the end of life — looking to him while we thus 
 resolve, " to work in us both to will and to do of his own good plea- 
 sure," and to "keep us by his almighty power through faith unto sal- 
 vation." If this be the temper and these the exercises of our minds — 
 however we may mourn our darkness and our difficulties — we have 
 good reason to hope that we are founded on the rock Christ Jesus, and 
 that our hope shall never make us ashamed. But if, on the contrary, 
 we are seeking justification by the deeds of the law, and do not feel 
 most sensibly, that without a vital union with Christ by faith, we must 
 perish: if the Saviour do not constantly appear necessary and some- 
 times precious to us; if we do not feel our obligations to obey all the 
 laws of God; and yet, after all we have done, that we are emphatically 
 unprofitable servants: — or if we are resting on some supposed spiritual 
 views which we 07ice had, while we do not most earnestly seek 7iew 
 views of Christ and his fulness, nor endeavour to walk as he hath com- 
 manded; then truly we have reason to fear that we have " neither part 
 nor lot in this matter." Let all such be exhorted, as they value their 
 eternal peace, to take no peace to themselves, till they obtain it on 
 other grounds than those on which it is now resting. 
 
 Secondly, Nearly allied to what has just been stated, is the applica- 
 tion which should be made of this subject, by awakened and inquiring 
 souls. Let them be most earnestly entreated to take up with nothing 
 as satisfying, short of good evidence that they have been truly brought 
 to rest on the Saviour alcne, and are consequently his in the everlasting 
 covenant of his grace. Better to bear the pains of a wounded con- 
 science till they are healed by the blood of Christ, than to have them 
 healed slightly by any other remedy. Cease to seek justification by 
 your own efforts or obedience. Come, at once, to the Fountain which 
 can cleanse you from all your stains. Are you altogether vile — altoge- 
 ther unworthy — altogether helpless.? Just such the Redeemer came to 
 save — As such you are invited to go to him for salvation. If you ever 
 attempt to come to him in any other character than this, he will reject 
 you. If, therefore, you feel this to be your character, that sentiment 
 exactly suits your case to the Saviour, and the Saviour to your case. 
 To you he must be precious — Throw yourselves entirely upon him, 
 and he will not reject you. " Ho! every one that thirsteth, come ye to 
 the waters; and he that hath no money come ye buy and eat; yea, come 
 buy wine and milk without money and without price. Wherefore do 
 ye spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labour for 
 that which satisfieth not. Hearken diligently unto me, and eat ye that 
 which is good, and let your souls delight itself in fatness. Incline your 
 ear and come unto me; hear and your souls shall live: and I will make 
 an everlasting covenant with you, even the sure mercies of David." 
 
 Thirdly, The subject which we have been discussing applies itself, 
 in a peculiar manner, to the people of God— urging them to " abide in 
 Christ," and to animate themselves with the sure prospect of the hea- 
 venly inheritance. Hear, my brethren, the words of the divine Jesus — 
 " Abide in me and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself 
 unless it abide in the vine, no more can ye except ye abide in me. I 
 am the vine ye are the branches; he that abideth in me and I in 
 him, the same bringeth forth much fruit; for without me ye can do 
 
The J\*ature, ^c. of the Heavenly State. 69 
 
 nothing." Truth, blessed Saviour! without thee we can do nothing. 
 Help us, therefore, by thy grace constantly imparted; and then, 
 "through thy strengthening us, we can do all things." Christians, let 
 us never exchange the holy delight which arises from a life of faith on 
 the Son of God, for any of the polluted pleasures of the world. Let us 
 live simply upon him; and under all the trials we may bear for his 
 cause, or meet with in his service, let us solace ourselves with antici- 
 pating that heavenly rest, which shall, in a few fleeting days, succeed 
 to all our toils, and which will be the sweeter for every painful sensa- 
 tion we now endure. 
 
 Finally — The import of this subject, to those who are yet " at ease in 
 Zion," is both awful and alluring. It is awful, as it indicates their dan- 
 ger; it is alluring, as it exhibits, in the most attractive view, the way 
 of escape. Christless sinner! thou art in the midst of a howling wil- 
 derness, in which thou wilt certainly perish, if thou dost not flee to 
 the rock of salvation. Thy outward enemies, Satan and the world — 
 and thy inward diseases corruptions and lusts, that produce a mortal 
 fever in the soul; all conspire thy eternal ruin; and they will certainly 
 prevail, unless Christ be thy refuge, Christ thy captain, Christ thy 
 physician, Christ thy sole reliance, Christ the water of life to thy 
 perishing immortal spirit. Behold, then, this hour he ofters to be all 
 this to thee. On thy peril, refuse not the offer. By the worth of thy 
 soul, by the value of heavenly rest, by the mercies of God in Christ 
 Jesus, I exhort, charge and entreat thee, hasten to the Saviour — But 
 why do I speak of my entreaties? — Listen to and embrace with unut- 
 terable gratitude, the invitations of the whole church, and of the Spirit 
 of grace — " For the Spirit and the bride say, come — and let him that 
 heareth say come — and let him that is athirst come — and whosoever 
 will let him take the water of life freely." Amen. 
 
 SERMON. 
 
 THE NATURE, EMPLOYMENT, AND HAPPINESS OF THE HEAVENLY 
 
 STATE. 
 
 2 Cor. V. 1. — " For we know that if our earthly house of this tabernacle were dis- 
 solved, we have a building of God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the hea- 
 vens." 
 
 Li these words the apostle Paul describes the future possessions of 
 the righteous, under the figure of a building — "A building of God, a 
 house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens." It is by figures, 
 and bv negative expressions, that the state of future happiness is, for 
 the most part, made known to us, in the oracles of inspiration. While 
 we remain in our "earthly house," we cannot have a full and distinct 
 knowledge of "the house not made with hands." For this our mental 
 faculties do not qualify us in our present state. Here we obtain our 
 original ideas through the medium of our bodily senses; and to these 
 our very language, when we speak of spiritual objects and operations, 
 has almost a necessary reference. Of unembodied existence, there- 
 fore, and of the exercises and feelings of purely spiritual beings, our 
 apprehensions must be inadequate. But that we may, by analogy, 
 obtain some just notions, however imperfect, of that blissful state, the 
 hope and expectation of which supports and animates every Christian, 
 
70 The Jyature, Sfc. of the Heavenly State. 
 
 metaphorical language is employed in the word of God. In the text 
 heaven is called a building of God ^ a house not "made ivith hands: and 
 elsewhere we find it spoken of as a mansion of God, a temple, a city, a pa- 
 radise, an inheritance, a purchased possession, a better country, a kingdom, 
 a crown of glory; and as rest, peace, and the joy of the Lord. 
 
 In discoursing to you, at this time, on the state and exercises of the 
 heavenly world, I shall not confine myself to the text, but seek aid in 
 every part of the sacred volume, for the illustration of this important 
 and most interesting subject. 
 
 I. I begin with remarking that when we speak of heaven, our minds 
 and our expressions almost necessarily refer to some place; some local 
 situation, in which God and glorified spirits are supposed peculiarly to 
 reside. This is observable in the text; and as already intimated, the 
 same, or similar language, we find employed in many other parts of the 
 inspired writings. Not thinking it proper to consume your time with 
 mere speculative notions, or suggestions, I shall not even mention some 
 of the hypotheses and conjectures of learned and pious men, relative to 
 the intellectual truth taught by the metaphorical language of sacred 
 scripture touching this subject. It may, however, have its use very 
 briefly to notice two opinions — the opinion of those who favour the 
 idea that heaven ought to be regarded merely as a state, and not as a 
 place; and the opinion of those who believe there is a local heaven, as 
 well as a glorious change of state, into which the people of God enter, 
 when " mortality is swallowed up of life." 
 
 The favourers of the former of these opinions reason thus — There is 
 nothing more necessary, say they, to our immediate perception of an 
 unveiled Deity, and entering into the society of other spirits, whether 
 Iiappy or miserable, than that the soul should be disencumbered of the 
 body. God is every where present; and for aught we know, every part 
 of creation may likewise be peopled with spiritual inhabitants. By the 
 laws of our present existence, we can neither converse with them nor 
 perceive them. It may be the law of their existence, too, if such be 
 the will of the Creator, that they can neither perceive nor converse 
 with us, beyond what he on special occasions may permit. The walls 
 of flesh and sensemay cutoff all ordinary communication between them 
 and us; and the throwing down of these barriers may be all that is ne- 
 cessary to an immediate intercourse with them. This idea they thus 
 illustrate — Imagine that you had been confined, for the whole of life, 
 to a single apartment, through which only a few dim rays of light were 
 permitted to penetrate, at five small avenues. Imagine that all you 
 knew of the sun, the face of nature, and the busy scenes that were pass- 
 ing around you, was from some imperfect report — Then imagine that, 
 in a moment of time, the walls of this obscure dwelling were all to be 
 removed; and the sun, the face of nature, and the busy scenes of life, 
 of which you never before had any perception, nor could form any cor- 
 rect notion, were to be ushered at once on your naked view. Into what 
 a new and unknown world would you find yourself transported? Some- 
 thing like this may take place at death. Our earthly house of this taber- 
 nacle is a dark abode. Through five avenues, denominated senses, we 
 gain some obscure intelligence of invisible beings, with which we may 
 be all surrounded. But when, at the moment of death, the present ob- 
 structions shall be removed, the sensible perception of God, like the 
 rays of the unclouded sun, may burst upon us at once; we may perceive 
 ourselves to be in the midst of a countless host of active intelligences; 
 we may be able to converse with them and they with us: and if we die 
 
Tlie J\*ature, ^c. of the Heavenly State. 71 
 
 reconciled to God and loving him supremely, this will make our 
 heaven. 
 
 The advocates of the latter opinion, to which I have referred, freely 
 admit the possibility, and perhaps the probability, of all that you 
 have just heard. But they say that the representations of holy scrip- 
 ture clearly teach us far more than this; and ought to leave us in no 
 doubt that there is a local heaven. They remark, that although the 
 language used in relation to this subject is figurative, yet the figures 
 themselves, as well as some descriptions not figurative, manifestly 
 refer lo place; that a house, a mansion, a temple, a city, a country, and 
 many other terms, can scarcely convey any meaning whatever, if they 
 have no reference to locality; that the same idea is necessarily implied 
 in what we read of angels conducting a departed spirit to the heavenly 
 felicity; and especially that there Qiiicst be a place, in which the trans- 
 lated body of our blessed Lord, and the bodies of Enoch and Elijah, 
 now reside; and to which the glorified bodies of all the saints will be 
 gathered, after the resurrection and the final judgment. In a word, that 
 almost the whole of what we are taught in the sacred pages, relative to 
 the future state of the righteous, leads us to believe that in the immen- 
 sity of space, there is a region, or a place, where God is now mani- 
 fested in his brightest glories to the blessed inhabitants; and where the 
 whole of those who are redeemed from among men will, with the holy 
 angels, eventually constitute the general assembly and church of the 
 first-born, whose names are written in heaven. This appears to me to 
 be perfectly conclusive, and to leave no ground for rational controversy, 
 whether heaven be a state or a place. We are, indeed, not told where 
 this local heaven exists, and therefore all speculations and conjectures 
 on that topic, would perhaps better be forborne. But this forms no 
 objection to the fact of its existence. It is analogous to all that is re- 
 vealed on this subject, that a part should be told, and a part be con- 
 cealed. It ought ever to be kept in mind, that it is contrary to all just 
 principles of reasoning, to refuse our assent to facts, suitably authenti- 
 cated, because, if we admit them, they will involve some things that 
 we cannot fully explain. 
 
 We further remark in regard to the subject before us, that our being 
 unable to form distinct ideas of the operations of our souls in a sepa- 
 rate state, is no argument at all against the existence of such a state; 
 any more than it is an argument against the being of a God, and of 
 holy angels, that we can have no adequate conception of the mode of 
 their existence, and of the manner in which spirits converse, or com- 
 municate their thoughts. Neither is the greatness of the change which 
 must pass upon us, in order to our entering on the heavenly state, any 
 reason why we should not believe in its reality. Changes, indeed, 
 which bear a strong analogy to this, and which, for myself, I fully be- 
 lieve were chiefly intended to illustrate it, are constantly presented to 
 our observation. Ten thousand beautiful forms of animated nature 
 are, at one period of the year, flying v/ith rapid motion through every 
 region of the air, which, at another period, are dormant reptiles in the 
 bosom of the earth, or sluggish worms on its surface, with scarcely the 
 symptoms of life. Now the change from the mortal to the glorified or 
 angelic state, is scarcely greater than this, nor the transition more 
 wonderful. And what we see and know to be true in the nature of an 
 insect, shall we think to be impossible, or improbable, in the nature of 
 man.^ 
 
 II. The sacred scriptures teach us that all the natural appetites, and 
 
72 The JV*atiire, Sfc. of the Heavenly State, 
 
 all the pains and sufferings which are experienced in the present life, 
 will, in the heavenly state, be known no more. Material sustenance 
 cannot be necessary to the support of an immaterial and immortal 
 soul. When therefore the spirit shall cease to be an inhabitantof " the 
 earthly house of this tabernacle," all those appetites, which are seated 
 in our animal nature, and necessary for its preservation, will cease at 
 once. And when, at the resurrection, the happy spirit shall again re- 
 animate its sleeping dust, that dust shall be so organized, by the power 
 and wisdom of God, whose will constitutes all the laws of nature, as 
 that "it shall hunger no more neither thirst any more." These senti- 
 ments are sustained by the plainest declarations of the word of God, 
 not only in the expression just repeated, but in the following particular 
 and beautiful passage of the same apostle on whose words I discourse. 
 " But some man will say — How are the dead raised up.^ and with what 
 body do they come.^ Thou fool, that which thou sowest is not quick- 
 ened except it die — But God giveth it a body as it hath pleased him, 
 and to every seed his own body." After which, in the same connexion, 
 he adds — "There are also celestial bodies, and bodies terrestrial: the 
 glory of the celestial is one, and the glory of the terrestrial is another: 
 So also is the resurrection of the dead: It is sown in corruption, it is 
 raised in incorruption: It is sown in weakness, it is raised in power: 
 It is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body. There is a na- 
 tural body, and there is a spiritual body." Here, we see the apostle is 
 particularly careful to mention, and to repeat, that there is a spiritual 
 body — that is, a body which shall possess many of the properties of a 
 spirit, and which shall not hinder any of its operations — which may 
 pass, quicker than a ray of light, to any part of the creation of God, 
 whither the will of its Maker, or his service, may require its presence. 
 This spiritual body will feel none of the wants or pains to which 
 our mortal bodies are now subjected. Ah! my brethren, Lazarus, 
 there, wants no more the morsel which here he solicited in vain. 
 There shall the emancipated spirit of every humble Christian, who in 
 this world may have endured hunger and thirst, cold and nakedness, 
 poverty and wretchedness, be freed forever from the pressure of its 
 wants, and know the superior pleasure which arises from perfect hap- 
 piness, contrasted with constant suffering. Bodily infirmities, often 
 productive of spiritual distress, seem in many instances to be, as it 
 were, the furniture y inseparably attached to the earthly tabernacle of the 
 saint. But when the soul — the temporary tenant — shall resign its 
 possession, it will be forever quit of all these inconveniences. Enter- 
 ing the house not made with hands eternal in the heavens, none of 
 these incumbrances will there be found. There the martyr who has 
 yielded his body to the flame or torture, for the cause of Christ, will 
 find himself eternally secure of that undiminishable bliss, for which 
 he despised the sufferings of the body. There the patient Christian, 
 who has languished out a wearisome life of sickness, or infirmity, or las- 
 situde, will find immortal health, activity, and vigour — there the labours 
 and inquietudes, and perplexities, and griefs, and sorrows, and cares of 
 the believer, will find a termination final and eternal — "There the wicked 
 cease from troubling, and there the weary are at rest — And God shall 
 wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, 
 neither sorrow nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for 
 the former things are passed away." Yes — the former things shall be 
 passed away forever. Every clog and hindrance, every oppression and 
 embarrassment, every difficulty and discouragement, which the Chris- 
 
The J\*ature, Sfc. of the Heavenly State. 73 
 
 tian feels from a frail body and a state of trial, shall then be left far 
 behind. The unfettered soul, escaping from all the entanglements and 
 vexations of flesh and sense, like an eagle broken loose from her toils, 
 shall wing her unencumbered rapid flight to heaven, and rove and bask 
 with joyful liberty amidst the sunbeams of eternal day. 
 
 III. The state of heavenly happiness will be a state of perpetual and 
 perfect freedom from all sin. This, indeed, is the foundation of that 
 complete deliverance from suffering and sorrow, which we have just 
 considered. From a state of imperfect moral obedience, pain is never 
 excluded. But where holiness is complete, there happiness will like- 
 wise be perfect. And this we are assured, will be the condition of 
 every soul which shall be admitted to the heavenly mansions. We are 
 told " there shall in no wise enter into it any thing that defileth, neither 
 whatsoever worketh abomination, or maketh a lie." This must, in 
 the nature of things, be necessary to complete the happiness of a holy 
 soul. Being supremely and habitually attached to God and holiness, 
 it never could be entirely satisfied, if sin, the opposites of these, were 
 not totally destroyed. So long as God was offended, and his law vio- 
 lated, there regret and sorrow would necessarily succeed. This it is 
 which mars all the Christian's happiness upon earth — this it is which 
 mixes grief with all his joy. The remainders of sin; the awful mea- 
 sure of indwelling corruption which cleaves to him; the body of sin 
 and death with which he is clothed, depress his soul; and as the apostle 
 remarks in the verses which succeed the text, make him groan, being 
 burdened, " earnestly desiring to be clothed upon with his house which 
 is from heaven." And blessed be God, when the time of release ar- 
 rives, the Christian's enemies shall be able to annoy him no more for- 
 ever — they cannot follow him beyond the grave — that is the barrier 
 which they can never pass. All those evil propensities, desires, and 
 passions, which have so often assaulted or seduced the soul; all those 
 attachments to sensual and worldly objects, which have interfered with 
 its spiritual exercises; all that coldness, sloth, indifference, unbelief, 
 want of inclination and animation for the service of God, which made 
 it drag so heavily along its Christian course; all the allurements of the 
 world, which have so often drawn it away from communion with God, 
 and the enjoyment of his presence and favour; all doubt, and distrust, 
 and fear; all the dark veils which have separated between the mind and 
 the clear perception of divine truth; all the temptations and tormenting 
 suggestions of the great enemy of souls; will now have completely and 
 finally lost their influence. Not one of these disturbers shall ever be 
 able to intrude on the happy soul that arrives at the heavenly rest. 
 Oh, desirable deliverance! oh, enviable state! to serve and enjoy God 
 with perfect freedom, no more assailed by any enemy, no more polluted 
 by any sin. What Christian but in the contemplation is ready to 
 spring forward by anticipation to the happy moment, and think the 
 time tedious which separates him from so desirable an event. 
 
 IV. The society of heaven will prove a source of high enjoyment, to 
 every glorified saint. Of this we have clear intimations in the " ora- 
 cles of God." " Many, (said the Saviour,) shall come from the east and 
 the west, and shall sit down with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, in the 
 kingdom of heaven." And the beloved disciple, in his apocalyptic 
 vision, " beheld, and lo! a great multitude which no man could num- 
 ber, of all nations, and kindreds, and people, and tongues, stood before 
 the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes, and palms in 
 their hands; and cried with a loud voice, saying, salvation to our God, 
 
 K 
 
^4 Tlie JVature, ^c. of the Heavenly State. 
 
 which sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb" — In his very na- 
 ture, man is formed for society, and with plain indications also, that his 
 Maker intended that he should derive both his happiness and improve- 
 ment, from an interchange of thoughts and feelings with his fellow 
 men. All analogy would lead us to expect, that this law of his nature 
 would not change with his change of state; and the passages of sacred 
 writ just recited, with many others of similar import, clearly inform us, 
 that there will be social acts and communications in tlie heavenly 
 world. Those with whom departed saints have lived in the greatest 
 intimacy, and the most endeared union, and with whom they have tra- 
 velled the thorny path of human life — those with whom they have 
 here mingled their warm affections, and who have shared in each other's 
 affections, sorrows and joys, will doubtless recognise each other, and 
 be united in purer fellowship in heaven, than they ever knew on earth. 
 Together they may recollect and recount the feelings and fears, the 
 pleasures and the pains, the darkness and the doubts of this shadowy 
 state; and together rejoice that darkness and doubt have now vanished 
 forever. Who, my brethren, can estimate the pleasure of meeting in 
 glory, those who have been dearest to them here below, and who per- 
 haps shall be the first to welcome them to the mansions above? To 
 this it is no valid objection, that, in the present state, strong natural af- 
 fections often subsist in the bosoms of the pious, towards some who 
 live and die in hardened guilt and impenitence. Natural affection has 
 its use in this life, in powerfully urging the pious to employ every 
 mean and effort to reclaim the wicked. But in heaven, we have rea- 
 son to believe that all affection for every unholy being, of whatever 
 kind or character, will be entirely and forever extinguished, while love 
 to all who bear the image of God, will, to the highest degree, be in- 
 creased and purified. It is even now a transporting contemplation, to 
 think of the sublime enjoyment which will arise from being admitted 
 to the society of all the worthies of the earth, of all ages and of every 
 clime-— of forming an acquaintance and fellowship with them — of 
 knowing from them what they were on earth, and what they have be- 
 conie in heaven. Adam and Enoch, Abraham and Elijah, David and 
 Isaiah, prophets and apostles, Peter and Paul, martyrs and reformers, 
 will ye not recount to listening myriads, what once ye were, what here 
 were your thoughts and plans, your labours and your trials; and what 
 in heaven ye have learned, beyond every conception which ye formed, 
 till ye reached the celestial abodes! For I remark 
 
 V. The soul of every saint in a glorified state, will be placed in cir- 
 cumstances the most favourable to the acquisition of knowledge. 
 There is in the human mind a natural and insatiable thirst, to examine 
 and know the things w^iich are offered to its observation. But In the 
 present state, there are many obstacles to the gratification of this de- 
 sire. Many have few advantages for making progress in knowledge. 
 Our senses themselves, while they assist our inquiries to a certain 
 length, do then, by their grossness, prevent a farther advance. Some 
 things, it was evidently intended that we should not understand in the 
 present state; and human life itself is so short, that the career of our 
 inquiries, however happily commenced, is terminated almost as soon as 
 it is begun. The observation of these circumstances, led even those 
 who were not favoured with the Viirht of revelation, to conclude the 
 soul immortal; to conclude that the all-wise Creator, who makes no- 
 thing in vain, had not formed a being capable of endless improvement, 
 to be struck out of existence, as soon as that improvement had well 
 
The J\"ature, ^'c. of the Heavenly State. 75 
 
 commenced; but that in a future world the human capacities and 
 powers should find space for their expansion, and have their desires 
 fulfilled. This reasoning, the sure word of revelation explicitly con- 
 firms. Hear the apostle, on whose declaration I discourse. " For 
 (says he) we know in part, and we prophesy in part: but when that 
 which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done 
 away. When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a 
 child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away child- 
 ish things. For nov/ we see through a glass darkly, but then face to 
 face: now I know in part, but then shall I know, even as also I am 
 known." According to this representation, the human soul at present 
 is but in the bud of being; the present is a mere state of infancy and 
 tutelage, in which the knowledge and conceptions of the wisest mortals 
 are as much inferior to those of a glorified spirit, as the views and 
 comprehension of a child are different from those of a man; or as the 
 knowledge of an object, seen through a dim and obscuring medium at 
 a distance, is inferior to that which is obtained by a naked, clear, and im- 
 mediate view: and that hereafter such a view shall open on the soul 
 of the saint, and the things of God shall be known by him, in somewhat 
 the same manner as they are known to the infinite mind. Of this 
 knowledge I will mention, although I can do little more than name, 
 some of the principal subjects. 
 
 1. It will be a knowledge of God himself. Here the conceptions which 
 we acquire of the Deity, are very imperfect. Our souls are, as it were, 
 sensualized; and the notions which we form of an immaterial being, 
 are, as already noticed, very inadequate. But when the glass of sense 
 shall be removed, and spirit shall perceive and converse with spirit, 
 then " we shall know even as also we are known." We shall have per- 
 ceptions of the essential nature of God, and of his immediate presence 
 and ineffable glory, unspeakably different from, and superior to, those 
 which we now possess. We shall have something answerable to our 
 expression of seeing him " face to face;" and this, I conceive, will be 
 one of the radical causes of the happiness of heaven. There is much 
 in the word of life, which indicates the holy pleasure which will arise 
 from the clear knowledge of God — the standard of all excellence and 
 perfection — and from dwelling in his sensible presence. There, proba- 
 bly, we shall acquire a much better conception, than we can now ob- 
 tain, of the union and distinction of persons in the divine nature; 
 though the full comprehension of this may transcend the capacities of 
 angels, and exceed the bounds of created intelligence. There we shall 
 certainly know more of the attributes of the Deity, than here we can com- 
 prehend. This will, no doubt, form a principal part of the employ- 
 ment of every saint in heaven, as it constitutes much of his holy plea- 
 sure here on earth. Here his progress is little, there it will be incon- 
 ceivably great. There his soul will launch, boldly and delightfully, on 
 the unbounded ocean of divine excellence, exploring regions still new 
 and unknown before, but without being able, in its utmost progress, to 
 reach the shores of infinite perfection. 
 
 2. The works of God will be better known to the departed and happy 
 soul, than they can be on this side the grave. It is by the works of 
 God, that his attributes are manifested in this world; and they will 
 doubtless serve the same purpose in the regions of unclouded intelli- 
 gence and bliss. There, it may be, beatified spirits will learn his tvis- 
 dom^ by being instructed into the nice and minute organization of the 
 most subtle parts of creation; by seeing the first source and spring of 
 
7& The JSTature, ^c, of the Heavenly State. 
 
 those that are called the laws of nature; by being shown the connexion 
 between matter and spirit^ and many things of which at present we 
 have no conception. There we may learn his poiver^ by contemplating 
 more fully the myriads of worlds and systems with which he has filled 
 immeasurable space; by seeing how they are connected with, or related 
 to each other; and it may be, by roving free and unconfined amongst 
 them all. There we may perceive his infinite goodness^ in the innu- 
 merable orders of beings with which he has peopled these wide domi- 
 nions, and the provision he has made for their happiness and improve- 
 ment. It has been suggested by a pious and ingenious writer, that per- 
 haps the souls of the just will pursue, in heaven, their favourite and 
 peculiar contemplations here on earth. What degree of truth there 
 may be in this, or what will be the mode and the measure of our know- 
 ledge in regard to the works of God, we cannot certainly pronounce; 
 but that this knowledge will be unspeakably increased, we have ground 
 for the fullest confidence. 
 
 3. The government of God will be more perfectly understood in hea- 
 ven, than it ever is on earth. Of this there are, I think, numerous and 
 clear intimations from Scripture, as well as from reason. To our pre- 
 sent contemplations, clouds and darkness are often round about the ways 
 of God; but there we shall see that justice and judgment are the habita- 
 tion of his throne — There we may learn more of the divine purposes or 
 decrees, than we can now penetrate — We may see more clearly how sin 
 entered the creation of God, while the creature was free and guilty, and 
 the Creator holy and just in the execution of his own infinite plans. 
 There we may understand the connexion between the governing influ- 
 ence of God, and the perfect liberty of the creature. These are sub- 
 jects which, I apprehend, were not intended to be fully known in the 
 present state; and to which the apostle might refer when he said, "I 
 see darkly" — but which he expected to see clearly in a better world — 
 There, too, may those inexplicable and trying events of Providence, 
 which now perplex and distress thee, oh believer 1 be all fully explain- 
 ed, and the wisdom, goodness, and kindness of that which at present 
 seems so dark and hard, be conspicuously and joyfully beheld. 
 
 VI. The plan of redemption, the character and purpose of the Re- 
 deemer, and the riches of his inheritance in the saints, will, in heaven, 
 be seen in unclouded glory. To this place I have reserved what might 
 have been introduced when I spoke of the attributes of the Deity — I 
 mean the infinite grace^ mercy^ and condescension^ of our God. These 
 shine only in the work of redemption: And Christians, when you ar- 
 rive at Mount Zion above, your souls will have views of these, of which 
 at present you can have little knowledge. " For eye hath not seen, nor 
 ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things 
 which God hath prepared for them that love him." Oh, with what a 
 transport of holy rapture, will you there meditate on the love of God 
 in Christ Jesus our Lord! You will enter deep into it, and try to search 
 its infinite extent. You will learn, perhaps, from the immediate com- 
 munications of the Saviour himself, the mysteries of his wonderful 
 work of redemption. He may explain to you the nature of the cove- 
 nant, which took place in the cabinet of heaven before the birth of 
 time, in which his people were given to him in promise, and of the fruits 
 of which you will be then receiving. He may give you to understand 
 how he left the bosom of the Father, how he united the divine with the 
 human nature, and how, in this connexion, he executed the amazing 
 plan. He may explain to you the awful agony of his holy soul in the 
 
The JSTature, ^'c. of the Heavenly State, 77 
 
 garden of Gethsemane, and when on the cross he cried, "My God, my 
 God, why hast thou forsaken me" — Passing to the effects of his work, 
 he may show the triumphs of his love, in making you the happy sub- 
 jects of it by his all-conquering grace; and in bringing you safely, in 
 despite of all your enemies, to his blissful presence. Then he may un- 
 fold to you how the glory of God is intended to shine through this work 
 of heavenly wonder, and the attributes of God to be illustrated by it, 
 before all creation, and to all eternity. Oh, brethren I we are assured 
 that " we shall see him as he is" — Yes, we shall see the Saviour. We 
 shall look on his blessed and gloriousperson; and " we shall be like him,'* 
 when we thus see him as he is. Our souls shall drink in the astonish- 
 ing ideas of his grace and love; they shall ponder the mighty subject; 
 they shall labour on in the heavenly meditation with increasing delight; 
 they shall adore and bless his name; they shall ascribe to his grace 
 their noblest praises; they shall attribute all to him; they shall give 
 him thanks in his immediate presence, and before the foot of his throne, 
 in heaven, for all the unutterable riches of redeeming love and mercy. 
 Faith, brethren, will there be turned into vision; and the blessed Re- 
 deemer, to whom we now look — and so often feebly look by faith — 
 shall there be seen without a veil, on his throne of power and glory. 
 But I am anticipating what I propose to mention 
 
 VII. That the knowledge acquired in heaven, will not be merely spe- 
 culative, but such as will touch all the springs of holy joy and ecstacy. 
 There is a pleasure which the mind always receives from the simple 
 acquisition of knowledge, or the discovery and contemplation of truth. 
 But beside this, there is a peculiar pleasure, which arrises from as- 
 certaining certain truths, in which, from any circumstances, the mind 
 had been deeply interested, and strongly desirous that they should 
 be found to be, what they are, at length, discovered to be in fact. Such 
 will be the nature of every newl) opening view of truth, which will 
 break on the mind of the saint in the heavenly world. It will be a 
 truth which will awaken all the most exquisite sensibilities of his soul. 
 He will feel a holy and inexpressible delight, in perceiving every thing 
 which his growing powers will enable him to comprehend. The 
 grosser passions will no doubt be all extinct; but the spiritual passions, 
 if I may so call them, will be sublimed, and will receive new capaci- 
 ties of pleasure and gratification. Much is said in the word of God, 
 on the sacred excitement, which will be given to the soul in the celestial 
 mansions. Every thing in the Bible tends to show that heaven will not 
 be a state merely of increasing perception, however desirable, but of di- 
 vine animation and transport. Think, O Christian! of thy happiest 
 hour; think of an hour in which it has been given thee to know a sacred 
 serenity of spirit, in the possession of that " peace of God which passelh 
 all understanding;" an hour when a still, and sweet, and solemn eleva- 
 tion of soul, in the contemplation of thy God and Saviour, made thee 
 a partaker of " the joy of the Holy Ghost" — That probably is the 
 nearest resemblance thou canst have on earth, of the delights of hea- 
 ven. But better, infinitely better than that, in degree and purity, will 
 be all the hours that shall carry forward thy existence in the mansions 
 above. And this enjoyment, it must be remembered, will never satiate, 
 or weary the glorified spirit — It will be ever fresh, and new, and vigor- 
 ous, through all the periods of an endless duration. We know that mental 
 and spiritual pleasures, even in this world, are in their nature the most 
 durable. They do not give an impetuous or sudden gust of gratifica- 
 tion, like sensual delights — followed often by a sense of repletion or 
 
7S The JSTature, ^e. of the Heavenly State, 
 
 disgust. Mental pleasures may be long continued; and the fatigue 
 which at length ensues, is the fatigue of the body, which clouds, and 
 depresses, and enfeebles the mind. But in heaven, the soul will expe- 
 rience no hindrance from the body. She will rise in all her native 
 vigour to the paradise of God; and when she resumes her body at the 
 resurrection of the just, it will be, as we have seen, a spiritual body, 
 which will aid, and not obstruct, her every exercise and enjoyment. 
 The engagements of heaven, we doubt not, will be various; but, " Ho- 
 liness to the Lord," will be inscribed on them all; and redeeming love 
 and sovereign grace will be the favourite theme, on which all the ran- 
 somed of Adam's race will dwell with expanded powers, and with in- 
 satiable and untiring bliss. 
 
 Finally — The joys of heaven will be eternal. This is the considera- 
 tion which gives them their highest value. Here our best enjoy- 
 ments are short and transitory; and the recollection that they must 
 be so, and that they are to be succeeded by new and painful conflicts, 
 often abates them while they last. But in heaven there will be no fear 
 of any change, or any termination of the felicity experienced. On the 
 contrary, an endless increase, we have reason to believe, will be 
 anticipated and realized. The human mind possesses an expansive 
 property, by which, at every step of improvement, it becomes capa- 
 ble of making acquisitions more easily, and of taking in a larger 
 measure of knowledge and fruition. If this property of the human 
 soul shall be retained in its glorified state, as we have every reason 
 to believe it will, who can estimate its attainm.ents in the progress of 
 eternity! May not the present capacity of the highest angel, be at 
 length reached, and exceeded by the meanest saint.^ Through the soul 
 of this saint, may not more happiness ultimately pass, than has yet 
 been experienced by all the angels and saints now in glory! That 
 amount is finite, and in eternity an individual may exhaust it all, and 
 then an eternity will be still in prospect! O the breadth and the 
 length, the height and the depth of this incomprehensible felicity! It 
 absorbs and overwhelms our minds — In silent meditation let it sug- 
 gest unutterable thoughts. 
 
 Long as I have detained you, beloved hearers, I do not feel at liberty 
 to conclude this discourse, wiihout a few plain practicable observations 
 on what you have heard about heaven. 
 
 I. Let it be remembered that the heavenly delights of which I have 
 spoken, and you have heard, can never be enjoyed by those who are 
 not prepared for them in the temper of their minds. The desire of hap- 
 piness is inseparable from our nature; and as heaven is ever represent- 
 ed as a state of consummate and endless enjoyment, unsanctified men, as 
 well as others, often cherish and express the hope and the expectation 
 of going to heaven when they die. But let them not be offended, when 
 they are told, that they really do not desire heaven. They do indeed, 
 with all sincerity and earnestness, desire happiness, but still they do 
 not desire heaven; that is, such a heaven as actually exists, and which 
 is the only one which ever can exist, in all the universe of God. The 
 God of heaven is a holy God, and he certainly never will make an un- 
 holy heaven. Of the heaven which he has prepared for all who are 
 qualified to enter it, perfect holiness characterizes every inhabitant and 
 every exercise. But unsauctified men do not love holiness. Their 
 taste, disposition, and feelings are all set against it, and will continue 
 to be so, while they remain unsanctified. To suppose then that they 
 desire a heaven of perfect holiness, is to suppose that they desire 
 
The J\*ature, Sfc. of the Heavenly State, 79 
 
 what they hate; which is a contradiction in terms. No truly, let them 
 understand themselves correctly, and they must see that it is only hap- 
 piness — a sinful happiness — and not a holy heaven, which is the object 
 of their desire. And hence it is plain, that without a radical change of 
 heart and affections, they could not be happy if they were in heaven; for 
 they would find nothing there but objects of disgust and aversion. Be 
 it then imprinted on the memory of us all, and let every unsanctified 
 sinner in this assembly bring his mind into close contact with the 
 solemn truth proclaimed by the God of heaven, that " Without holi- 
 ness no man shall see the Lord — Except a man be born again — born 
 of the Spirit — he cannot see the kingdom of God." Seek renovation 
 then, fellow sinner — seek the influences of the Holy Spirit to renew 
 you unto holiness — if you would, on any rational ground, hope for heaven. 
 Let not this great concern be delayed for a single hour, lest death 
 overtake you while you delay, and you hear the irreversible decree — 
 " He that is unjust let him be unjust still; and he that is filthy let him 
 be filthy still; and he that is righteous let him be righteous still; and 
 he that is holy let him be holy still." 
 
 2. Let the people of God be exhorted to meditate much on heaven. 
 " Preach more about heaven — I have never preached enough about 
 heaven" — said an aged and eminent minister of the gospel, to a young 
 brother, who visited him on his death-bed. Yes, we ministers of the 
 gospel ought to preach more than we are wont to do about heaven; and 
 you, dear brethren in the Lord, ought to meditate more — much 
 more than I fear the most of you do, on heaven. I verily believe, 
 that in this very point, the primitive Christians were chiefly distin- 
 guished from those of modern times. They lived with heaven in 
 their eye; and it was this that made them undervalue the world, 
 and that raised them above the fear of death, even in its most fright- 
 ful forms. Truly the secret of martyrdom is here. Let a man pos- 
 sess a holy confidence that death to him will be instantly followed 
 by the vision of his approving Saviour, in all the glories and raptures 
 of the heavenly world, and he goes to the cross, the scaffold or the 
 stake with an unfaltering step — yea, with a triumphant spirit — It will 
 be, he says, but a momentary agony, and it will introduce me to eter- 
 nal joys. We, beloved Christian brethren, have but little prospect of 
 being called to the trial of martyrdom. Yet we have our trials; and 
 some of them perhaps more dangerous, for the very reason that they 
 are less feared, than were those of martyrdom. We have sicknesses, and 
 sorrows, and bereavements, and disappointments, and worldly losses and 
 vexations innumerable — these on the one hand — And on the other, we 
 have the smiles, and the flatteries, and the ten thousand seductions of the 
 world. — Now, the meditation of heaven will sustain and cheer us under 
 the former, and teach and enable us to undervalue and despise the lat- 
 ter. By this meditation we go, as it were, from earth to heaven — We 
 gain an elevation, from which when we look down, every thing on 
 earth appears little. We breathe a purer moral atmosphere, and feel 
 a delightful relief, in escaping for a short time from the murky air 
 of this polluted world. O, brethren, you know— for I now speak to 
 those who know it by experience — that heaven is begun on earth; and 
 when we get something of this imperfect heaven, in our present w^ary 
 pilgrimage, it does enliven and strengthen us wonderfully; and render 
 us superior to all things here below. And as it is a holy happiness, it 
 increases the spirit of holiness in our hearts, while we enjoy it. It 
 makes the will of God our choice, and therefore every thing that 
 
80 The. JSTature and Remedy of Sinful Shame. 
 
 comes to us appears right — It likewise animates us to all present duty, 
 and thus renders us most useful. It fills us, moreover, with a most ar- 
 dent desire to take as many with us to hea/en as possible, both from a 
 love to our fellow men, and from a desire to glorify God our Saviour; 
 and thus it consecrates us, with all that we have and are, to the pro- 
 motion of the gospel of Christ: And finally, it dispels all the darkness 
 of death and the grave, and puts into our mouth the conqueror's song 
 — " O death where is thy sting! O grave where is thy victory! The 
 sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law, but thanks be 
 to (iod who giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ — 
 Come quickly — Amen — Even so, come Lord Jesus." 
 
 SSRMOir. 
 
 THE NATURE AND REMEDY OF SINFUL SHAME. 
 
 Psalm gxix. C. — " Then shall I not be ashamed, when I have respect unto all thy 
 commandments." 
 
 To be able to look up to God with humble confidence, and to obey 
 his commands with freedom and fidelity before the world, is, at once, 
 the comfort and the glory of a Christian. This, however, is an attain- 
 ment not to be made without a vigorous conflict — "For the fiesh lust- 
 eth against the spirit and the spirit against the flesh, and these are 
 contrary the one to the other; so that ye cannot do the things that ye 
 would." The pleadings of corrupt nature, conspiring with the tempta- 
 tions of the world, and the suggestions of the great enemy of souls, 
 seduce the Christian to the omission or violation of duty; and thus 
 deprive him of the light of the divine countenance, and of firmness and 
 activity in the divine life. The inspired Psalmist seems to have con- 
 templated this evil, and to have intended to prescribe its remedy, when 
 he exclaimed, in the words of the text — " Then shall I not be ashamed, 
 when I have respect unto all thy commandments." — In discoursing on 
 the words, therefore, I will, in reliance on divine assistance, endeavour — 
 
 I. To explain the nature and operations of the sinful shame which 
 the inspired writer appears so desirous to avoid. 
 
 II. Show how a regard to all God's commandments will destroy the 
 existence of such shame, or prevent its embarrassments. 
 
 After this, a few practical reflections will conclude the address. 
 
 First, then, I am to endeavour to explain the nature and operations 
 of that shame, which the sacred writer appears so desirous to avoid. 
 
 Shame has been defined — " the passion which is felt when reputation 
 is supposed to be lost." This is no doubt the popular import of the 
 term; and yet it is not, as we shall presently see, the only sense in which 
 it is used by the sacred writers. I would remark, however, that con- 
 sidering it merely as a principle of the mind, which renders us sensi- 
 ble to the ill opinion of our fellow men, it is no inconsiderable guard 
 on our virtue. It is, indeed, true, that this, in common with every 
 other useful principle of our nature, may, by being turned into a wrong 
 channel, produce injury instead of benefit. It too often happens, in 
 fact, that good men, from being unduly influenced by a regard to the 
 opinion of the worldly or profane, are brought to be ashamed of their 
 duty; and this is a part of the very evil against which the text is di-« 
 
The jyature and Remedy of Sinful Shame. 81 
 
 rected. Still, however, it must be admitted, that a sense of shame is, 
 in itself, extremely useful, and when suitably regulated and rightly di- 
 rected, is a restraint against vice and an incentive to virtue. A desti- 
 tution of this principle is ever considered as marking the extreme of 
 human depravity — We usually join together th£ epithets shameless and 
 abandoned. The extirpation or extinction of the sentiment of shame, 
 therefore, is by no means to be attempted. Our endeavours are only 
 to be directed against suffering it to be perverted, and against laying 
 ourselves open to those wounds which it may justly inflict. Now, with 
 this view, we are looking for the origin and source of these evils; and 
 I think we shall find them, by turning our attention from the creature 
 to the Creator — from man to God, 
 
 In the sacred writings, the word we consider is frequently used to 
 denote those painful feelings of the mind, which are produced by a 
 conviction of our offences against the Majesty of Heaven; especially 
 when those offences partake peculiarly of the nature, or are seen re- 
 markably in the light of baseness, unreasonableness, and ingratitude. 
 Thus, when the Jews, who had been mercifully restored from the Ba- 
 bylonish captivity, violated the command of the Most High, by im- 
 proper connexions with the idolatrous nations, Ezra thus addresses 
 Jehovah-—" Oh my God I I blush and am ashamed to lift up my face to 
 thee my God, for our iniquities are increased over our heads, and our 
 trespass is gone up unto the heavens" — Here shame is used to denote 
 little else than the operations of conscience; or the oppression of soul 
 which is produced by the sense of being guilty and vile in the sight of 
 a holy God: And you will carefully observe, that the effect of this is, 
 the destruction of all freedom and confidence in addressing the Father 
 of mercies, and almost of the hope of pardon and acceptance with 
 him. This, my brethren, is undoubtedly the origin of the evil which 
 the text contemplates. It takes its rise from this point, and its bane- 
 ful influence is extended through a long train of unhappy consequences. 
 We may trace them thus — 
 
 All practical religion has its very foundation in a realizing belief of 
 an all-seeing God, who, while he is perfectly acquainted with all the 
 secrets of the soul, and with every action of life, is also of purer eyes 
 than to behold any iniquity, but with detestation and abhorrence. But 
 the mind, we say, in which this belief and apprehension exists, is con- 
 scious of dealing treacherously with the Most High; conscious that its 
 affections are shamefully divided between him and inferior objects; 
 conscious of not seeking his favour in secret with that holy earnestness 
 which its value demands; conscious that its penitence for sin is mise- 
 rably imperfect; conscious that hidden lusts and corruptions, not only 
 rise and plead for indulgence, but actually obtain it; conscious that 
 certain duties have been most criminally neglected and certain sins al- 
 lowed; conscious of presumptuous sinning against light and know- 
 ledge; conscious of repeated violations of the most solemn resolutions 
 and engagements; conscious, in a word, not merely of remaining pol- 
 lution, but of inexcusable neglect, unfaithfulness and insincerity, in 
 duty to God and devotion to his service. How, I ask, can he whose 
 mind informs him of all this, look up, with any confidence, to that 
 infinite Being who, he realizes, is perfectly acquainted with all this 
 baseness? He cannot do it: — shame and confusion drive him away 
 from the divine throne. He fears to draw near to God; or if he at- 
 tempts it, the service is hasty and superficial. The mind is afraid of 
 its own reflections, and seeks temporary and imperfect ease by over- 
 
 L 
 
82 The JVature and Remedy of Sinful Shame. 
 
 looking or endeavouring to forget its state. Still, a secret uneasiness 
 continually preys upon it, nor will ever cease to corrode it, while it re- 
 mains thus unsettled and divided. 
 
 Follow, now, this victim of shame before God, into his intercourse 
 among men. Suppose that he has never openly professed a religious 
 character. Then you see him most piteously embarrassed, confounded 
 and distressed. Wicked companions solicit and endeavour to lead him 
 into vice. His conscience is too much awake to permit him to comply 
 with pleasure, and yet he is sensible of too much insincerity to allow 
 him to refuse with firmness. He half refuses and half complies; and 
 thus becomes the scorn of the licentious, without obtaining the coun- 
 tenance of the pious. Those who are strictly religious regard his 
 friendship as uncertain; those who are openly profane consider his con- 
 duct as dastardly; and thus the hesitating wretch is covered with shame 
 before the world, as well as before his Maker. 
 
 Or suppose — and, alas! that it is not a mere supposition — that the un- 
 happy state of mind we have described, belongs to one who publicly 
 professes to be a follower of Christ. How painfully must he feel the 
 inconsistency of his profession, with the inward temper of his heart? 
 How misgiving and wavering must be his mind.^ How unfurnished is 
 he, while destitute of inward support, for all those conflicts with the 
 world, and all those reproaches from it, with which he will be sure to 
 meet.'* With what face can he reprove others, while secretly he con- 
 demns himself? When called to speak for God, how will his mind 
 misgive him, and his face crimson with blushes, while his heart in- 
 forms him, that he is espousing a cause in which his own sincerity is 
 doubtful? How will it often seal his lips in silence, when he ought to 
 speak? When censured and condemned by the profligate, how will 
 he be wounded by the recollection that the sentence is partly merited? 
 When his good works, themselves, are evil spoken of, how will he be 
 dismayed by seeing the just chastisement of heaven for the improper 
 disposition with which he performed them? When charged with the 
 black crime of hypocrisy, how will he be confounded to think that, in 
 the sight of God, the charge is bottomed on truth? When called to 
 suffer for conscience sake, or to hazard his life in the discharge of duty, 
 how will he be appalled and shrink back with fear, while conscience 
 tells him that he is a backslider from God, if not a settled enemy to 
 him? When only called to the open avowal of his Christian character, 
 in the solemn acts of religious worship, how will inward upbraidings 
 fill him with trembling and embarrassment, and mar the performance, 
 by a diffidence equally distressing and dishonourable.^ — ^ay, will not 
 these causes drive him altogether from attempting many duties, and go 
 near to turn him wholly from his Christian course? Yes, my brethren, 
 these are the consequences of the shame of which I have spoken, as 
 they take place in the discharge of religious obligations in the sight of 
 men. The summary of its history, therefore, is — that it originates in 
 a sense of guilt, arising from the consciousness of being unfaithful to 
 God; which first destroys or prevents a filial intercourse with him, and 
 confidence of his favour; and then, as a necessary consequence, abashes 
 and confounds its subject, when in the eye of the world, he assumes a 
 character, or attempts a practice, which is contrary to the feelings of 
 his heart. This is the evil contemplated in the text — an evil of un- 
 speakable magnitude, in the estimation of all who have not wholly lost 
 their regard both to their duty and their comfort, in the Christian life. 
 Listen, then, to the remedy prescribed — while I attempt to show — 
 
The JVatnre and Remedy of Sinful Shame, 83 
 
 II. How a regard to all God's commandments will destroy the exist- 
 ence, or prevent the embarrassments, of this sinful shame. 
 
 In entering on this part of the subject, it may be of some impor- 
 tance to endeavour to obtain clear and distinct ideas of what was in- 
 tended to be conveyed by the expression — " having a respect unto all 
 God's commandments." Does it intend a perfect obedience to all the 
 divine laws, or a sinless observance of them? Certainly not — For the 
 inspired penman evidently fixed his views on an attainment, which he 
 not only proposed to labour after, l)ut which he actually hoped to make, 
 in the present life; — and we have the unequivocal testimony of revela- 
 tion " that there is not a just man on earth, who doth good and sinneth 
 not " and that " if we say we have no sin we deceive ourselves and the 
 truth is not in us." Neither can it be intended, that any man will ever 
 yield such an obedience to the divine requisitions as shall, of itself, be 
 the just ground of his confidence before God; or so place him on the 
 footing of merit, as that he may claim the approbation and favour of 
 heaven, as a matter of right. The impossibility of this is, indeed, 
 implied in the last remark; for nothing less than an unsinning respect 
 to the commands of God, through the whole of our existence, could 
 entitle us to this claim. The finished Avork of the Redeemer,— his 
 atoning sacrifice, his complete and perfect righteousness, and his 
 prevalent intercession, constitute the only meritorious cause ot par- 
 don and acceptance with God, for any of the apostate race ot Adani 
 —It is only in Christ Jesus that God is "reconciling the world 
 unto himself, not imputing their trespasses unto them;" because " he 
 hath made him to be sin for us who knew no sin, that we might be 
 made the righteousness of God in him." The first freedom, which any 
 soul that has been suitably convinced of sin obtains, to look up to a 
 holy God with a measure of filial confidence, is wholly derived from 
 seeing the ample provision which is made in the plan of salvation, tor 
 extending pardon and eternal life to the sinner, in consistency with the 
 divine honour; and from a disposition to embrace this plan with thank- 
 fulness, and to trust it in faith. It is, therefore, so far trom being true 
 that the expression warrants any reliance on our own merits, that it 
 necessarily implies the opposite doctrine: " As it is written, behold I 
 lav in Zion a stumbling stone and rock of offence, and whosoever be- 
 lievethon him shall not be ashamed"~-Not to be ashamed, is here 
 predicated, and it is certainly true, only of those who believe in Christ 
 It is, moreover, written, " This is his commandment, that we should 
 believe on the name of his Son Jesus Christ," and therefore we cannot 
 have respect unto all the commandments of God, while a compliance 
 
 with this is wanting. , •* • * i 
 
 I detain you with this statement, my brethren, oecause it is to be 
 reerarded, not merely in the light of a negative, or as intended to 
 iruard against a misapprehension of the truth, but because it con- 
 tains the essence of the truth itself. It is an undoubted tact, as I am 
 sure every exercised Christian will testify, that when he has wandered 
 from God, and is sunk down into despondence under a sense o his 
 backsliding and unworthiness, the first and only relief tnat he obtains 
 is, from a heart melting, and a heart attracting view of the mhnite lul- 
 ness of his Redeemer, and the freeness of the riches of his grace It 
 is this view that encourages him to return; it is this that brings lum 
 back with true brokenness of heart; it is this that enables him o che- 
 rish hope though most undeserving; and it is this that sweetly con- 
 
84 The JVature and Remedy of Sinful Shame. 
 
 strains him to devote himself more unreservedly to God than ever he 
 had done before, from a strong sense of gratitude and obligation. In 
 having such respect, therefore, unto all God's commandments as will 
 deliver us from the influence of shame, a lively exercise of faith in 
 Christ, lies at the bottom of all. It is also the constraining influence 
 of the love of Christ, which is the source of that new obedience, which 
 reaches the extent of the requisition — It produces what has sometimes 
 been called a gracious sincerity, in the heart of the believer. It awakens 
 in him a strong desire to be delivered from the dominion of all sin; so 
 that he will not knowingly and allowedly indulge in any transgression; 
 he will desire that every lust and corruption may be mortified and sub- 
 dued; and will pant after greater conformity to God. He will be so far 
 from desiring to rest short of any thing which Christ requires of his 
 people, that he will press forward, and ardently long after the highest 
 attainment, and lament that higher attainments are not made. He 
 will, in short, seek his supreme happiness in communion with God, in 
 the diligent use of all the appropriate ineans of holy intercourse with 
 him. Thus the author of the text, in the 8th verse of the psalm where 
 it is found, says — " Let my heart be sound in thy statutes, that I be not 
 ashamed." It is this soundness of heart — this gracious sincerity in the 
 sight of God — this impartial regard or respect to every command of 
 the Most High, without taking one and leaving another — this careful 
 employment of all the means and methods of avoiding transgression — 
 that answers completely the condition of the assertion on which I dis- 
 rourse. And let us now see how strictly the assertion will be verified, 
 in those who comply with the condition. 
 
 I remark then, in the first place, that a compliance with this con- 
 dition removes, naturally and radically, the cause of all the guilty 
 shame, and embarrassment of which I have spoken, by producing a 
 consistent character. Shame is the natural consequence and proper 
 punishment of guilt. The only methods of getting rid of the pain 
 which it occasions are, to extinguish the principle, or to avoid the 
 causes of its excitement. The former of these methods is actually and 
 frequently pursued by the abandoned. By plunging into the excesses 
 of vice, and familiarizing themselves with all its pollutions, they extin- 
 guish shame and conscience together — On the middle character, con- 
 templated in the former part of this discourse, that character in which 
 there is still a sensibility to the demands of duty, and where, notwith- 
 standing, those demands are disregarded or left unsatisfied, it is here that 
 the principle of shame inflicts, as we have seen, all its chastisements. But 
 where the demands of duty are satisfied, there the cause of shame itself 
 is taken away; and though the utmost sensibility be retained, it creates 
 no uneasiness, because it meets with no violation. This is the case 
 of those who have that respect unto all God's commandments, which 
 we have just considered. Through the peace speaking blood of Jesus, 
 they have received the full remission of all their sins. By maintaining 
 a close and humble walk with God, they preserve an habitual persua- 
 sion of this comfortable truth; or rather they experience a daily^and 
 habitual renewal of its effects. In the exercise of the spirit of adop- 
 tion, they draw near with a holy confidence, and cry " Abba, Father" — 
 They have a blessed assurance, that God will realize to them all the 
 benefits of the covenant of grace; and esteeming " his favour as life, 
 and his loving kindness as better than life," they rejoice in him " with 
 a joy which is exceeding great and full of glory.'* In one word, they 
 verify in their own experience the declaration of the Apostle, where he 
 
The J^ature and Remedy of Sinful Shame, 85 
 
 says — " Beloved, if our heart condemn us not, then have we confidence 
 toward God: and whatsoever we ask we receive of him, because we 
 keep his commandments, and do those things that are pleasing in his 
 sight" — And thus when that which we have seen to be the very foun- 
 tain of shame, namely, a want of confidence in God, is dried up in the 
 heart of a Christian, it can send forth none of its bitter streams to poison 
 his pleasure, or to wither his strength, in the public discharge of his 
 duty. "His heart is fixed, trusting in God." His heart is in all that he 
 says, and in all that he does; and therefore he becomes — as we are told 
 the righteous shall become — "bold as a. lion." Is it incumbent on him 
 to reprove the vicious and profane? he can do it without embarrass- 
 ment, for he only speaks against that which his soul abhors. Is an oc- 
 casion offered to speak for God? his mouth speaketh from the abun- 
 dance of his heart, and therefore he speaks freely, pertinently, and com- 
 posedly; and he is ever ready to speak, when a fit opportunity occurs. 
 Is he branded as a hypocrite? he is sensible that his all-seeing Judge 
 knows the charge to be groundless, and therefore it disturbs him not — 
 he pities and forgives his accuser. Is he called to avow his Christian 
 character? he does it freely and cheerfully, for it is the character in 
 which he most of all glories. Is he subjected to reproach for the cause of 
 Christ? he even glories that "he is counted worthy to suffer shame for 
 his name," remembering that " if any man suffer as a Christian, he is 
 not to be ashamed, but to glorify God in this behalf." Or if he is called 
 to give up life itself, in an adherence to his duty, he can do it cheer- 
 fully, even though it were amidst the scoffs of a deriding world; for he 
 knows that the honour which cometh from God, and of which he is 
 sure, is infinitely greater than that which cometh from man only. 
 
 Brethren, the history of the church is a continual confirmation of 
 these truths. Supported by the principles I have explained, three un- 
 protected young men could face an assembled nation, could face a 
 burning fiery furnace, could face the mightiest monarch on earth, and 
 say — " Be it known unto thee, O king! that we will not serve thy gods, 
 nor worship the golden image which thou hast set up." Supported by 
 these principles, two ignorant and unlearned fishermen, dragged from 
 prison, and from chains before the Jewish Sanhedrim, could say — " Be 
 it known unto you all, and to all the people of Israel, that by the name 
 of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, whom ye crucified, whom God raised from 
 the dead, doth this man stand here before you whole." Supported by 
 these principles, a host of martyrs, in later ages, have courted a scaf- 
 fold, or been consumed at the stake. And, without recurring to such 
 striking instances, it is the support of these principles which enables 
 every Christian, who leads a life of real nearness to God, to adorn the 
 doctrine of his Saviour in all things — The blessed assurance which he 
 habitually maintains that his God is his friend, makes him fearless of 
 the world — It raises him far above its influence, and puts, without his 
 seeking it, a dignity into his conduct and his very presence, which 
 nothing else can confer. 
 
 2. By having respect to all God's commandments, we acquire the 
 advantage which arises from a decided character^ a.nd are thus delivered 
 from many temptations to those sinful compliances which are the cause 
 of shame. The person who cherishes the inward sentiments, and 
 maintains the outward deportment which has been explained, will un- 
 avoidably assume, in the eye of the world, an appearance and character 
 which will distinguish him as one who is not governed by its maxims, 
 and who does not follow its fashions. It will no longer be doubtful to 
 
86 'The J^Tatiire and Remedy of Sinful Shame. 
 
 whom he belongs- — Those who are conformed to this world, will see 
 and feel that he is g-uided by other principles than those which influ- 
 ence them, and pursues a totally different system of living and of hap- 
 piness, from that which they have adopted. Hence they will not so- 
 licit an intimacy with him; for intimacies exist only between parties 
 of a similar taste. When thrown together by the calls of business, 
 or in the intercourse of life, (for this character by no means requires 
 austerity or abstractedness,) it will not be expected that the decided 
 friend of piety will relish or take part in questionable liberties. His 
 presence will even prove a restraint on others; or to say the least, his 
 character will be a protection to himself, from solicitations to unlawful 
 practices. That character will also be both a guard on himself 
 against doing or saying any thing that might wound his conscience, 
 and will afford him an advantage in speaking or acting against every 
 thing improper. The desire of appearing consistent, will be a natural 
 call on him to defend what he professes to esteem, and the expectation 
 that he will act this part, will enable him to do it with freedom and 
 with advantage. And thus Avill temptations to those sinful compli- 
 ances which are the cause of shame, be greatly diminished, and the 
 principles of religion be guarded, even by the care of reputation. 
 
 This decided character for piety, will moreover, render its possessor 
 extremely dear to all who are Christians indeed; and from this cause 
 he will gain an immense advantage. The influence of social inter- 
 course, on all our opinions and practice, is ever great; and it is not less 
 in regard to religion, than in reference to any other subject. Chris- 
 tians inform each other by their conversation, encourage and animate 
 each other by their exhortations, assist each other by a comparison of 
 their exercises, embolden each other by a recital of their hopes, and help 
 and strengthen each other by their prayers. He who is joined to this 
 happy society, is continually imbibing more of the spirit which distin- 
 guishes and animates it, and is therefore less in danger of acting un- 
 worthily of his Christian character, and of wounding his own peace. 
 
 3. A respect unto all God's commandments, will deliver us from the 
 influence of sinful shame, inasmuch as it will exceedingly lower the 
 world^ and every created object^ in our estimation and regard. This idea 
 has been a little anticipated, but it is of so much importance, that it 
 deserves to be brought distinctly into view. When men are conscious 
 of guilt, it has been admitted that they ought to blush and be con- 
 founded — But whence proceeds that fear of man which bringeth a 
 snare? why are men timid and abashed in the discharge of duty.^ in 
 doing that which their consciences dictate and approve.^ In some in- 
 dividuals, this, no doubt, must be in part resolved into constitutional 
 make, or natural infirmity. But after every just allowance, much will 
 still remain to be attributed to the high estimation in which we hold 
 the opinions of our fellow men, even when they come in competition 
 with duty and conscience. If it were with us, as it was with the apos- 
 tle, " a small thing to be judged of man's judgment," we should be 
 wholly delivered from this inconvenience, as far as it arises from prin- 
 ciple; and should go far to get the victory over it, even as a natural 
 infirmity. Now, a life of nearness to God, will assuredly give us this 
 estimation of all human opinions, so far as they militate with our 
 Christian obligations. The fear of man whose breath is in his nostrils, 
 will be absorbed in the fear of him " who is able to destroy both body 
 and soul in hell." The mind which takes clear and frequent views of 
 an infinite God, and a boundless eternity; which places them often be- 
 
The JVatiire and Remedy of Sinful Shame, ST 
 
 fore it, brings them into ideal presence, and dwells as it were sur- 
 rounded by themj such a mind will look down on the world with a 
 holy indifference. Its censure or its applause, its smiles or its frowns, 
 will be regarded as matters of small estimation: 
 
 " His hand the good man fastens on the skies, 
 Then bids earth turn, nor feels the idle whirl." 
 
 He feels that his heart and his treasure are in heaven; his thoughts, 
 his hopes, his desires, are principally there. Not setting a high es- 
 timation on earthly possessions or human applause, he is not much 
 agitated with anxiety when he contemplates them, nor when they 
 are denied him. This appears to have been eminently the temper of 
 the Psalmist, when he said — " Whom have I in heaven but thee, and 
 there is none on earth that I desire beside thee." This was the tem- 
 per of the great apostle of the Gentiles, when he said — " I am crucified 
 to the world and the world to me — Yea doubtless, and I count all 
 things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my 
 Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and do count 
 them but dung that I may win Christ." This, in fine, is the temper 
 which every one will, in a good degree, possess, whose conversation is 
 in heaven; and possessing this, he will, as a natural consequence, rise 
 above a sinful and ensnaring fear of man, and be able, with comfort and 
 composure, to support and adorn his Christian profession. 
 
 Thus, it appears that a respect to all God's commandments, by giv- 
 ing us a consisteyit character — producing confidence in God; by render- 
 ing that character decided, in the view of the world; and by lessening 
 our estimation for the things of time and the opinions of men; will deliver 
 us from shame and embarrassment in the discharge of every duty. 
 
 In how strong a light, my brethren, does this subject place the folly 
 of those, who are balancing in their minds between the demands of re- 
 ligion and the allurements of the world; and endeavouring to reconcile 
 a regard to both? We see that, in fact, they obtain satisfaction from 
 neither — they are the most unhappy persons upon earth. If 1 speak 
 to any of this description; to any who are doubting and hesitating 
 about coming forward to an open avowal of a Christian character; to 
 any who are half inclined to this, but are held back by a fear of the 
 world; I would entreat them to lay aside their hostility to their own 
 happiness, by a resolute discharge of duty. Believe it, your efforts to 
 reconcile the service of God and the friendship of the world, will be 
 forever vain, and you will be forever tormented while you attempt it. 
 If you will be for God, you must be for him wholly and unreservedly; 
 without seeking to accommodate his service to the opinions and feel- 
 ings of unsanctified men. Your interest, no less than your duty, en- 
 joins this — " Wherefore come out from among them, and be ye sepa- 
 rate saith the Lord, and touch not the unclean thing, and I will receive 
 you, and will be a father unto you, and ye shall be ray sons and daugh- 
 ters, saith the Lord Almighty." 
 
 In a still stronger light does this subject place both the folly and im- 
 piety of professing Christians, who are stealing away to the forbidden 
 pleasures of sin; as if religion were not able to afford them happiness. 
 Be it known that the very reason w hy it does not afford you happiness, if I 
 speak to such, is because you are not devoted to it; because you mingle 
 it so much with the world, that you debase its nature; because you 
 only retain enough of it to wound your consciences, and to cover you 
 with shame and confusion, but have not enough to enable you to take 
 
88 Christ the Desire of all JSTations. 
 
 hold of its divine supports, and to taste its heavenly consolations. 
 Cease then to pierce yourselves through with many sorrows — Return 
 unto the Lord, and cleave unto him with all your heart, and with all 
 your soul, and you shall find that it is not a vain thing to serve him. 
 
 On the whole, let us all be exhorted to endeavour to walk more with 
 God — We cannot wander from his presence, without unspeakable in- 
 jury to ourselves. In his presence only is the light of life — While we 
 remain here, we bring down a portion of heaven to earth. Let us, 
 therefore, set it as our mark to obey all God's commandments, without 
 choice or exception. Let us pray unceasingly for the aids of his Holy 
 Spirit, that we may be enabled to do so; and let us guard agahist every 
 thing that might have a tendency to interrupt our intercourse with our 
 Father in heaven. Amen. 
 
 A CHRISTlXCiLS SBRHHOXT. 
 
 Christ the Desire of all Nations. 
 Haggai, ii. 7j middle clause.—" The Desire of all nations shall come." 
 
 The occasion on which these words were uttered by the Prophet was 
 as follows: — After the return of the Jews from their captivity in Baby- 
 lon, they began to rebuild the house, or temple, of Jehovah, the God of 
 Israel. Before they had proceeded far, their undertaking was inter- 
 rupted by a prohibition from the Persian monarch, to whose authority 
 they were still subject. It was not long, however, that this obstacle 
 needed to have hindered their proceeding in their design. But in the 
 mean time their inclination to proceed had subsided ; and it was not 
 till several severe judgments had been inflicted on them for their ne- 
 gligence, and the prophet on whose words I discourse had been sent to 
 awaken them to a sense of their duty, that they could be induced again 
 to engage in the work which they had relinquished. At length, how- 
 ever, it was resumed with spirit; and yet it was soon after retarded, anew, 
 by another discouraging circumstance. Some of the persons concerned 
 in rebuilding the temple were old enough to recollect that which had 
 been destroyed; and all of them, no doubt, had been informed of its mag- 
 nificent appearance and costly furniture; and it was obvious, at once, 
 that the edifice they were engaged in erecting would be far inferior, in 
 point of splendour, to the one in place of which it was to stand. This 
 thought damped the ardour of all those who were concerned in building 
 it; for nothing is more discouraging than to know that after every effort, 
 we must rest far short of what others have performed, and of what we 
 ourselves are desirous to achieve. To remove this new difficulty, the 
 same prophet who had been employed to stir them up to the enterprise, 
 was sent with a new message to encourage them in its prosecution. He, 
 accordingly, informed them, by the command of Jehovah, that although 
 the temple they were erecting would, in external grandeur, be inferior to 
 that which had been built by Solomon, yet, in another, and far more im- 
 portant particular, it should be superior — That a great and glorious per- 
 sonage, who should be emphatically "the Desire of all nations," should 
 enter and make his appearance in it; and by his presence there, put an ho- 
 nour upon it, unspeakably greater than any which had been conferred on 
 Solomon's — "I will fill this house with glory, saith the Lord of hosts — 
 The glory of this latter house shall be greater than of the former, saith 
 
Christ the Desire of all JVations. 89 
 
 the Lord of hosts; and in this place will I give peace, saith the Lord 
 of hosts." 
 
 In discoursing farther on the passage, thus illustrated, I will endea- 
 vour to show, 
 
 L That our Lord Jesus Christ is the personage here spoken of, as 
 the Desire of all nations. 
 
 IL In what respects he might with propriety be thus denominated, 
 or described. 
 
 III. Improve the subject. 
 
 In showing that our Lord Jesus Christ is the personage intended 
 or described in the text as the Desire of all nations, the chief con- 
 sideration is — that the truth of the whole passage with which these 
 words are connected, is incapable of vindication, unless we admit that 
 the Messiah was the subject of the prediction; and this being admit- 
 ted, it must appear incontrovertible that our Lord was the only person, 
 during the period to which the prophecy refers, who can be imagined 
 to have possessed that character. If the advent of the Messiah, so long 
 expected by the Jews and foretold by their prophets, was not contem- 
 plated in the text, as the circumstance or event which was to render 
 the second temple more glorious than the first, it is impossible to say 
 what was intended, or to clear the prediction from the charge of false- 
 hood. For in every respect, except the presence of the Messiah, the 
 glory of the latter house was not greater, but incomparably less, than 
 that of the former. The nation and the individuals who respected 
 and offered their devotions in it, were less important in the eyes of the 
 world, and much more inconsiderable in number, than in the days of 
 Solomon. The temple itself, although very much enriched and adorn- 
 ed in the time of Herod, yet never was, at any period, either as large 
 or as magnificent, as that which preceded it: And as to that which 
 might be called the spiritual furniture, the first temple possessed the ho- 
 nour and advantage, probably of the Urim and Thurnmim, certainly of 
 the ark of the covenant, the fire from heaven, and the glorious Shechi- 
 nah, or visible manifestation of the presence of Jehovah; all of which 
 were wanting in the second. 
 
 The prophecy, therefore, that this house should be more glorious 
 than the former, has not been and never can be verified, unless the pre- 
 sence of the Messiah, was the circumstance to which it referred as that 
 which should give truth to the declaration. The presence in the second 
 house of the incarnate Son of God, would completely and most signally 
 verify the prediction; because, as he was the great object to which every 
 symbol, and indeed the whole Jewish dispensation pointed, his coming 
 into this temple would make it as much superior to the former, as the 
 substance is superior to the shadow — the thing which is signified to that 
 wliich is only a faint emblem of it. There was moreover, no other person 
 or thing so far as we know, that could with any show of propriety be 
 denominated the Desire of all nations; so that it seems impossible not to 
 believe that it was the Messiah, to whom the prophet here referred : 
 And if the Messiah was really the object pointed at, our Lord Jesus 
 Christ must unquestionably be he. For although there were others who 
 laid claim to this character during the existence of the second temple, 
 yet they have long since been considered as impostors, both by Jews 
 and Gentiles; and from the nature of the case can never hereafter be 
 considered in any other light. Christ Jesus, therefore, is the only indi- 
 vidual who can ever be supjiosed, with any degree of probability, to have 
 possessed tlic character of the Messiah, the anointed of the eternal 
 INI 
 
90 Christ the Desire of all JSTations, 
 
 Father, and Immaimel, God with us, during the period of which I speak; 
 and he, consequently, must be the illustrious personage whose presence 
 in this temple was to do it an honour, with which nothing that belonged 
 to Solomon's could pretend to vie. In this temple he, accordingly, did 
 make his appearance — In this temple he was presented to the Lord, 
 while an infant, according to an established ordinance; and was, on 
 that occasion, solemnly recognised as the Messiah, by holy Simeon and 
 Anna, acting under the influence of divine inspiration. He honoured 
 the temple by his presence again, when he visited it with his parents, 
 at the age of twelve years: And he purified it from the abuses that 
 were practised in it, when, after his triumphal entry into Jerusalem, he 
 scourged from it those who pursued an unlawful merchandise there. 
 Nay, we are told that he daily preached in the temple; and that after 
 his crucifixion and resurrection, the apostles began to publish the gos- 
 pel here. This it was that eminently constituted the glory of the second 
 temple. It was from this, as from its central point, that the rays of 
 the glorious gospel began to dawn on the benighted world. Here first 
 broke forth that fountain of living water, whose salutary streams shall 
 never cease to flow, of which whosoever drinketh shall never thirst, in 
 which whosoever washeth shall be cleansed and healed from every 
 spiritual pollution and malady, and from the efficacy of which all who 
 drink of it imbibe the principles of eternal life. This was an honour 
 infinitely transcending all the pomp and splendour of the world — And 
 thus was the prophecy most illustriously and strikingly fulfilled in Jesus 
 our Saviour; and thus evident is it that he is the glorious person spoken 
 of, as "the Desire of all nations." Let us nov/ consider, more particularly, 
 
 II. In what respect he might, with propriety, be thus denominated or 
 described. Here I begin with remarking, that if we take the word 
 all, as we often must, in a qualified rather than an absolute sense; — as 
 implying tnany nations, and these contiguous or known to the Jews, 
 rather than every tribe, or community of men who inhabit the earth, 
 Christ might with literal propriety be called "the Desire of all nations." 
 
 From the fall of man to the time of his appearance in the world, he 
 had been the object of esteem and love, of hope and trust, to all the 
 faithful, not only among the Jews, but among other nations who had 
 heard of his name; and they looked forward to his advent with great 
 desire and expectation, as a period at which much light and spiritual 
 advantage and consolation should be conferred on the world. Some 
 knowledge of his name and character was, no doubt, handed down by 
 tradition from Adam to Noah. They had at least heard of the promise, 
 that the seed of the woman should bruise the serpent's head. Of this 
 knowledge the descendants of Noah would, we may be sure, scatter 
 some remnants in the various parts of the earth which were populated 
 by them. The more distinct predictions of the Messiah which were 
 given to Abraham, would be made known by him among the nations of 
 the East where he dwelt; would be carried by his posterity into Egypt, 
 which was then the school of science to the world, and augmented by 
 the memorable prophecy of dying Jacob, in regard to the posterity of 
 Judah, would be widely diffused. The nations bordering on the land of 
 Canaan, after it was possessed by the Israelites, and many of whom be- 
 came proselytes to the Jewish religion, would acquire and disseminate 
 the information on this subject which the Hebrews possessed during the 
 whole period of their judges and their kings. The same information 
 would be carried by the Jews to Babylon, when they were led captive 
 there, and be communicated freely in the capital, and throughout a con- 
 
Christ the Desire of all JS^'ations. 91 
 
 siderable part of the Assyrian empire. In particular, the clear revela- 
 tions of the Messiah which were made to the prophet Daniel, would be 
 likely, from the iniluence and high station which he possessed, to be 
 heard with reverence and ree^ard, and to be extensively circulated — In 
 addition to all, there seems to be some reason to believe that the heathen 
 oracles themselves, were made instrumental in publishing that a Sa- 
 viour should one day come into the world. We, at least, know, that 
 the soothsayer Balaam, was made to utter an unwilling but very re- 
 markable prophecy, of the coming and character of Christ. From the 
 causes now cursorily noticed, it is certain that there was some knowledge 
 of the Messiah among almost all the Eastern nations, even from the re- 
 motest periods of time, and that this knowledge gradually increased and 
 became more precise, till at length the very time of his appearance 
 was generally understood, and as it approached, excited much atten- 
 tion and expectation. 
 
 The sacred records give us, at a very early period, a short but very in- 
 teresting account of Melchisedcck, who, as he was an eminent type of 
 our Redeemer, we may reasonably conclude possessed some informa- 
 tion of his character. Abimelech, the king of Gerar, flourished nearly 
 at the same time, and as he appears to have been truly pious, was cer- 
 tainly not altogether ignorant of the Messiah. Job, who probably lived 
 not long after this, and who appears to have been an Eastern prince, 
 had such clear views of Christ, and such a lively faith in him, that he 
 could say, " I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand 
 at the latter day upon the earth." The case of impious Balaam has 
 already been stated: And we know from the records of the evangelists, 
 that when our Lord actually assumed our nature, and was born in the 
 land of Judea, such was the expectation and desire of his appearance, 
 not only there, but among the surrounding nations also, that wise men 
 from the East were deputed, and actually came, guided miraculously 
 by a singular star or meteor, and paid their homage and made their of- 
 ferings to the infant Saviour. With strict propriety, then, might he be 
 called the Desire of all nations, when his advent was so long and so 
 anxiously desired, contemplated and looked for, by them. 
 
 2. Christ might with propriety, be called the Desire of all nations, by 
 a very common figure in which the abstract is put for the concrete — 
 that is, the circumstances and necessities of those nations were such, 
 that his coming and the consequences of it were very desirable, a thing 
 which might well be earnestly wished for by them. 
 
 Although there was, as you have heard, some general knowledge, 
 among the nations contiguous to the holy land, that a Saviour should 
 arise, yet this knowledge was imperfect in itself, it was not possessed 
 by the great mass of t"he people, and it had little or no practical in- 
 fluence on their moral and religious character. This character, indeed, 
 was truly melancholy and shocking. "Darkness covered the earth, and 
 gross darkness the 'people." The multitude, at least, possessed no 
 knowledge of the true God. Their worship was in exact opposition to 
 the command of Jehovah to his chosen nation, relative to idolatry, and 
 no doubt was the ground of the prohibitory precept— The likeness of eve- 
 ry thing in heaven above, and in the earth beneath, and in the waters 
 under the earth, was the object of their adoration. Nay, vices and pas- 
 sions of the most abominable nature, were treated by them with reli- 
 gious reverence, and imputed to their imaginary deities— In a word, 
 their whole religion was a degrading compound of ignorance, error, 
 impurity, cruelty, and impiety. 
 
92 Christ the Desire of all J\^ations. 
 
 Even among their philosophers, where notions of the great First 
 Cause of all things, in some measure just, were possessed, at least by a 
 few, difficulties of an insurmountable kind still existed. Although some 
 of them hoped for a future state, none of them w^ere sure or satisfied 
 about it; for after all the reasonings on this subject, certainty can only 
 be obtained by an express revelation from God. They were, moreover, 
 in much doubt and uncertainty whether the Deity could consistently, 
 or would in reality, forgive the sins of men. — The circumstances which 
 excited their hopes and their fears on this topic, seemed to be equally 
 balanced; and one of the wisest and best of them declared, that no one 
 could decide with certainty, unless God should please to reveal it. 
 Among the Jev/s themselves, although a much better state of things 
 existed, yet their knowledge of a future state, and of the way of pardon, 
 was imperfect and obscure; and the ceremonial part of their religion 
 had, in practice, almost absorbed its spiritual and moral design. The 
 church of God, moreover, was, at this time, confined to the Jewish 
 nation. The whole Gentile world, with the exception of a few proselytes, 
 was excluded. The breaking down of the middle wall of partition be- 
 tween the Gentile and the Jew, was not to take place till the advent of the 
 Messiah. How inexpressibly desirable, in this state of things, was the 
 coming of Christ? How desirable that the church of God should be 
 opened for the entrance of the whole world? How desirable was it that 
 the clear knowledge of the unity, spirituality, and holiness of his nature, 
 and of his other glorious attributes, should chase away that awful igno- 
 rance, which had debased and sunk the greater part of mankind, in point 
 of knowledge, almost to a level with the beasts that perish. How desi- 
 rable that a just system of instruction, in regard to the divine character, 
 should raise the human mind from its prostrate subjection to supersti- 
 tion, immorality and vice, and teach it wherein true piety consists.^ How 
 desirable that life and immortality should be brought to light by the 
 gospel, and mankind be assured, by their Creator himself, that he had 
 formed them for an endless existence, and that they should live eternal- 
 ly beyond the grave? How desirable that he should inform them that 
 he had provided a way in which he could consistently, and in which he 
 was ready actually, to forgive the sins of every penitent offender? How 
 desirable that this way should be explained, both to Jews and Gentiles, 
 — that the great atonement and finished righteousness of the Redeemer 
 should be presented to their view, as the urifailing foundation of their 
 hopes; — that thus they might see hoiu it is that God is just, while he 
 justifieth the believing sinner.^ How desirable to know that the Holy 
 Spirit should also be given, to renew and sanctify the human mind, to 
 quicken and comfort it, and to prepare it for glory? A general diffu- 
 sion of the knowledge of these things depended on the coming of Christ. 
 By his coming these truths were actually published, first in Judea, and 
 then, in a very short space, to all the neighbouring nations; and finally 
 they will be published to all the nations of the world. In this view of 
 the subject, where shall we find language that shall express, with suffi- 
 cient energy that Christ was, at the time the prophecy was uttered, the 
 Desire of all nations. 
 
 3. Christ Jesus may be called the Desire of all nations, as he hath 
 been, in all ages, the object of the highest esteem and affection to the 
 people of God, and will eventually be so to all the kindred of the earth. 
 
 That our Redeemer is " all the salvation and all the desire" of those 
 who are saved by him, is a truth to which each of his sincere disciples 
 will most cheerfully subscribe. It is the language of his church, as 
 
Christ the Desire of all JVations. 93 
 
 dictated by the spirit of inspiration in an early age, that he is the chief 
 among ten thousand — yea he his altogether lovely. From the first pro- 
 mise that was made of his coming after the fall, till his Archangel 
 shall call the whole human family to judgment, he was, and is, and 
 shall be, the " coiner stone" on which the hopes of his people rest, — 
 the source of their purest and sublimest joy. They look to him as the 
 great Captain of their salvation: They view him as their Almighty 
 friend: They see that if it had not been for his work ihcy had been 
 undone forever: They see in his obedience and death, the only ground 
 of their pardon and justification: They see in his infiniie fulness, the 
 fountain from which all their spiritual wants are supplied: They see, 
 in his faithful promises, the food, and support, and consolation of their 
 souls: They perceive, in his intercession, the only medium of an ac- 
 ceptable approach to God: And from the infinite efficacy of all, they ex- 
 pect the heavenly inheritance to be conferred upon them. He is there- 
 fore dearer to them than all earthly friends and possessions. Rather 
 than renounce his friendship, they are ready to forsake father and mo- 
 ther, wife and children, yea and life itself. "His favour is life, and his 
 loving kindness is, in their esteem, belter than life." In one word, he 
 is their " all in all." As soon as they begin to see their need of him, 
 they desire, and seek, and esteem his favour beyond all that the world 
 calls good and great — Thrones and empires, if they possessed them, 
 they would cheerfully give for a saving interest in Christ; and when 
 they obtain it, the dominion of the universe would not tempt them to 
 give it up. In this high and emphatic sense is Christ the desire of all 
 his real disciples, among all the nations that ever did, or that ever shall, 
 people the earth. 
 
 And swiftly is the period advancing, when all the nations of the world 
 shall, in this manner, be his people, — be " the nations of our Lord and 
 of his Christ." He shall reign on earth a thousand years, and during this 
 period, he shall be the Desire of all nations, in all the extent and strict- 
 ness of the statement you have just heard; for he shall be '• king of 
 nations as he is king of saints." To him " every knee shall bow and 
 every tongue confess;" and this guilty world, so long the theatre of 
 crime and carnage, and of aversion to the Saviour, shall lay its homage 
 at his feet; and its inhabitants shall turn their eyes on him as the high- 
 est desire and delight of their souls, become the subjects of his peace- 
 ful kingdom, and most cheerfully consecrate themselves to his glory 
 and praise. 
 
 Thus, then, it appears that Christ may, with propriety, be denomina- 
 ted " the Desire of all nations" — I. Because, in a qualified sense, all 
 nations desired his coming: 2. Because the spiritual necessities of all 
 nations rendered his coming, in the highest degree, an object of de- 
 sire: 3. Because he hath ever been the desire and delight of his faith- 
 ful people, in every nation and age, and will eventually be so, in the 
 strictest sense, to all the nations of the earth. It remains, 
 
 III. Briefly to improve the subject. 
 
 First, then, from what has been said we see in a striking light, the 
 blindness and obstinacy of the Jewish nation, in rejecting the Saviour; 
 and we should be led to pity their unbelief, and to pray and labour for 
 their conversion to the faith of the gospel. In the preceding discus- 
 sion it has been shown, that a plain and express prediction of one of 
 their acknowledged prophets, and of one who lived nearest to the time 
 of the Messiah, is incapable of explanation, and must absolutely be 
 given up as false, unless it be confessed that Jesus was the Christ. For 
 
94 Christ the Desire nf all JVations. 
 
 the temple of which the prophet spake, and in which he declared the 
 Messiah should make his appearance, has long since been destroyed; 
 and consequently, if he hath not actually appeared — if he did not ap- 
 pear in that temple — this prediction never can be fufilled. The same 
 thing, indeed, is true of several other prophecies. Yet such is the effect 
 of obstinate prejudice — or such, rather, is the consequence of that awful 
 imprecation " his blood be on us and on our children," that no argu- 
 ments or circumstances have hitherto prevailed to convince them as a 
 people, that Christ Jesus was the Messiah promised to their fathers. 
 They look, and wait, and wish, and pray, for a Messiah yet to come. 
 Unhappy people! — he will never come, till he come the second time, to 
 judgment. Blessed be God! he has come already. On this morning — 
 if this be his natal day — On this morning, near eighteen hundred years 
 ago,* Messiah became incarnate. The angelic host, in " choral sym- 
 phonies," filled earth and heaven with hallelujahs at his l>irth. This 
 Saviour — seed of Abraham — is your only hope; for it was inspired and 
 eternal truth which his dauntless apostle proclaimed to your perse- 
 cuting priests and rulers — " This is the stone which was set at nought 
 of your builders, which is become the head of the corner. Neither 
 is their salvation in any other; for there is none other name under 
 heaven given among men whereby we must be saved." Brethren, let 
 us pity and pray for the descendants of the ancient Israel of God, and 
 use every means in our power to bring them to the knowledge of the 
 truth that they may be saved. We have reason to believe that we 
 press hard on the time, when they shall again be grafted into the 
 church, from which they have so long been broken off by unbelief. 
 Let us earnestly, and frequently, and perseveringly beseech of God, 
 that he would hasten the accomplishment of this glorious event; and 
 that with it, he would also bring in the fulness of the Gentile nations, 
 that there may be one sheepfold and one Shepherd, that all Israel may 
 be saved, and that our Redeemer's name may be precious from the 
 rising to the setting sun. 
 
 2. From what has been said, we may perceive — and we should ob- 
 serve it with the liveliest gratitude to God — how much higher our re- 
 ligious privileges are, not only than those of the heathen world, but than 
 those of the most favoured people of heaven, before the coming of Christ. 
 Like the heathen, we are not left to an utter ignorance of the true God; 
 to dark and doubtful conjectures about a future state; to perplexed and 
 inconclusive reasonings whether sin be pardonable. On us " the true 
 light hath shined." — On us the sun of righteousness hath risen, and the 
 gloomy mists of error are chased away. Nay, we have that which none 
 of the ancient patriarchs possessed. Not even Abraham, David, or 
 Daniel, had as complete and extensive a knowledge of salvation in all 
 its parts, as we possess. Of this it may be truly said — 
 
 '•' Prophets and kings desired it long 
 But died without the sight." 
 
 Let our hearts overflow with thankfulness to God, whose indulgent 
 providence has so highly distinguished us, — has cast our happy lot un- 
 der a dispensation of divine grace, the fullest and richest that the 
 world has known: And let us remember, too, that this will awfully 
 and justly aggravate our condemnation, if we perish amidst such ad- 
 vantages. Therefore — 
 
 * This discourse was delivered Dec. 25th, 1797. 
 
Christ the Desire of all J\^ations. 95 
 
 3. Finally — Let us be urged, on this occasion and by this subject, to 
 inquire most seriously of our own hearts, whether Christ has ever ap- 
 peared above all things desirable to us; and whether we have by faith 
 appropriated him as our Saviour, and embraced him as our all in all. 
 The word of life assures us, that " to those who believe," in a saving 
 sense, " Christ is precious;" and christian experience will inform us, 
 that the reason of this is, that those who thus believe, have had such 
 views of their need of a Saviour, to deliver them both from the con- 
 demning power and polluting dominion of sin, that when they find and 
 appropriate such a Saviour — full and complete in Christ Jesus — he is 
 truly and inexpressibly precious; his name is " like ointment poured* 
 forth," and they can scarcely repeat it, without calling him precioua 
 Christ. Have we, then, my brethren, had these views of our necessity, 
 rendering the Redeemer thus desirable, and issuing, at length, in that 
 hearty closure with him, which has made him the supreme delight and 
 joy of our souls. If this be the case, Christ is truly ours, and we are 
 his; and we have reason for humble and constant praise to God, who 
 has made us " accepted in the beloved." 
 
 But if the Saviour has never appeared, in the manner just explained, 
 desirable to us, and we have not, in this view, embraced him, we are yet 
 in our sins — We are forbidden to speak peace to ourselves for a single 
 moment, in this state: For though the benefits of Christ's purchase arc 
 infinitely great in themselves, they will profit us nothing, unless they be 
 applied to our souls. Therefore let me say to every individual present, 
 who is conscious that he has never seen in Christ Jesus "one altogether 
 lovely," to whom his soul has been drawn in faith and love — you are yet 
 in a state of unpardoned sin, and that from this state you must be deli- 
 vered, and that speedily, or perish, with a far more aggravated condem- 
 nation than that which will be experienced by either Jew or heathen. Your 
 education has not imbued your mind with an early prejudice against 
 the only Saviour; you have heard of his name and of his great salvation, 
 and he has been recommended to your acceptance, trust and love, by the 
 most powerful considerations — the most constraining motives that can 
 be addressed to a rational being. In opposition to all these, you have 
 hitherto practically rejected Christ; for remember that in this great con- 
 cern, neglect is rejection. You are perishing; Christ .Tesus calls to you 
 and says, " come unto me and be saved." If you do not obey the call, you 
 refuse, you reject it. And little as you may think of it, this refusal of the 
 invitation of a bleeding, dying, redeeming, incarnate God, is the great 
 damning sin of unheliej\ committed by every impenitent sinner under the 
 light of the gospel. Bethink yourselves seriously, I entreat you. Yiew 
 your guilt; be deeply abased for it before God; implore the aid of his 
 Holy Spirit to enable you to repent of it unfeigned; and to help you to 
 exercise that faith in Christ Jesus, with which alone the salvation of 
 the soul is connected. And I repeat, that if this is ever done, it must 
 be done speedily. If you do it to-day, this will be indeed to you a hap- 
 py Christmas., in a far better sense than that of the world's empty com- 
 pliment. It will be the happy day to which you will look back with un- 
 utterable joy, in the ages of eternity. That so you may now act as that 
 you may hereafter eternally rejoice, may God of his infinite mercy grant 
 through Jesus Christ our Saviour and our only hope. Amen. 
 
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 PRINTED IN U.S.A.