^^^ofPfiTS^^^ 
 
 %(>fiiCAL »^ 
 
 BX 5845 .W56 1841 . 
 Winslow, Benjamin Davis, 
 
 1815-1839. 
 The true catholic churchman, 
 
 in his life, and in his 
 
THE TRUE CATHOLIC CHURCHMAN, 
 
 IN HIS LIFE, AND IN HIS DEATH : 
 
 JThe Sermons ant» 3|oetCcal memaCns 
 
 OF 
 
 THE REV. BENJAMIN DA VIS% INSLO VV, A. M., 
 
 ASSISTANT TO THE RECTOR OF ST. MARY'S CHURCH, BURLINGTON, NEW JERSEY ; 
 
 TO WHICH IS PREFIXED 
 THE SERMON PREACHED ON THE SUNDAY AFTER HIS DECEASE, 
 
 WITH NOTES AND ADDITIONAL MEMORANDA, 
 
 1" . 
 BY ^ 
 
 THE RT. REV. GEORGE WASHINGTON DOANE, D.D,,LL.D., 
 
 BISHOP OF THE DIOCESE, 
 
 AND BECTOB OF ST. MAKt's CHITBCH. 
 
 ISie'ai Yoxk: 
 WILEY AND PUTNAIVl 
 
 M DCCC XLI. 
 
Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more 
 
 Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere, 
 
 I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude, 
 
 And with forced fingers rude 
 
 Scatter your leaves before the mellowing year. 
 
 Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear 
 
 Compels me to disturb your season due : 
 
 For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime. 
 
 Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer : 
 
 Who would not sing for Lycidas ] he knew 
 
 Himself to sing and build the lofty rhyme. ***** 
 
 we were nurst upon the self-same hill, 
 
 Fed the same flock, by fountain, shade and rill. 
 
 Together both, ere the high lawns appeared 
 
 Under the opening eye-lids of the morn, 
 
 We drove afield, and both together heard 
 
 What time the gray-fly winds her sultry horn, 
 
 Battening our flock with the fresh dews of night, 
 
 Oft till the star that rose, at evening, bright, 
 
 Tow'rd Heaven's descent had sloped his westering wheel. 
 
 But the heavy change, now thou art gone. 
 
 Now thou art gone, and never must return. — Milton. 
 
 J. L. Powell, Burlington, New Jersey- 
 
in his atfe, unti in ixis Btutii 
 
O God, whose days are without end, and whose 
 mercies cannot be numbered ; make us, we be- 
 seech thee, deeply sensible of the shortness and 
 uncertainty of human life; and let thy Holy 
 Spirit lead us through this vale of misery, in 
 holiness and righteousness, all the days of our 
 lives : that, when we shall have served Thee 
 in our generation, we may be gathered unto 
 our fathers, having the testimony of a good 
 conscience ; in the communion of the Catholic 
 Church; in the confidence of a certain faith; 
 in the comfort of a reasonable, religious and 
 holy hope; in favour with thee our God; and 
 in perfect charity with the world: all which 
 we ask through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 The undersigned thus redeems the promise of the obituary notice 
 of his scarcely less than child — fulfilment of which has been so 
 often claimed of him by those whose word, if his own heart needed 
 prompting, would be law — that, as he had never known "a man, 
 whose character could be adopted, to depict more clearly and more 
 
 fully, THE TRUE CaTHOLIC ChUECHMAN, IN HIS LIFE AND IN HIS 
 
 death;" so, to that pious duty, should it please God to give him 
 time and strength, he would devote himself, " as the best service he 
 could render to the Church, of which the beloved VVinslow, even at 
 his years, was a pillar and an ornament." To these strong words, 
 forced from the heart in the first gushing of its grief, time and re- 
 flection have but given greater force and keener sense of fitness ; 
 while the universal voice has but confirmed, as literally true, the re- 
 cord, which might well have been deemed partial. For the Church's 
 sake, therefore, — rather, for the sake of them for whom the Church 
 was purchased with the blood of Jesus; that they may see what are 
 the children who, in deed and truth, submit to be trained up, and 
 taught by her, — this memorial is attempted ; with a hand that trem- 
 bles yet, from its heart-wound, too much for painter's work, and 
 therefore leaves the beautiful Idea to depict itself, 
 
 , George W. Doane. 
 
 Riverside, Feast of the Purification, 1841. 
 
E-tte smell ot Sprlnfl. 
 
 {The first violets of the year seen this day, March 4.] 
 
 The smell of Spring, how it comes to us 
 
 In those simple wild-wood flowers, 
 With memories sweet of friends and home. 
 When never a cloud on our sky had come, 
 
 In childhood's cheerful hours. 
 
 The smell of Spring, how it comes to us 
 
 In that cluster of pnrple bloom. 
 With thoughts of the loved and loving One, 
 Not lost, we know, but before us gone, 
 
 Whom we left in his wintry tomb.' 
 
 The smell of Spring, how it comes to us 
 
 In the violet's fragrant breath. 
 With beaming hopes of that brighter shore. 
 Where flowers and friends shall fall no more, 
 " And there shall be no more death."^ 
 
 G. W. U. 
 Washington City, Ash Wednesday, 1840. 
 
 ' November 23, 1839. 2 Revelation xxi. 4. 
 
 <ll^.. 
 
TO MY WIFE, 
 
 THIS heart's memorial, 
 
 FOR THE DEAR GRAVE OF HIM, 
 
 WHO WAS ONLY NOT OUR CHILD, 
 
 INSCRIBES ITSELF. 
 
 WE SHALL GO TO HIM, 
 BUT HE SHALL NOT RETURN TO US. 
 
 BIYBRSIOE, ALL S A I IT T S ' OAT, M I) C C C X L . 
 
'^ 
 
 Sjprinfl STljougljts.' 
 
 Dearest, those purple flowers, 
 
 They seem to me to spring^ 
 From the grave of him whose living breast 
 Was wont to be the living nest 
 
 Of each beautiful thought and thing. 
 
 Dearest, those early flowers, 
 
 They speak to me of him 
 With the youthful mind so richly stored 
 With loftiest themes, and as freely poured 
 
 As from fountain's bubbling brim. 
 
 Dearest, those fragrant flowers, 
 
 Are odorous of his life — 
 The gentle-hearted, the heavenly-willed 
 With the choicest grace of the Holiest filled — 
 
 Where loveliest deeds were rife. 
 
 Dearest, they breathe, those flowers. 
 
 Of the land where he takes his rest, 
 Where the river of immortality flows, 
 With our White, and Hobart, and J ebb, and Rose, 
 And all that he loved the best. 
 
 Dearest, they say, those flowers — 
 
 Earth's winter-womb's first born — 
 " So shall the dead in Christ arise, 
 " Heirs of the world beyond the skies, 
 
 " On the resurrection morn !" G. W. D. 
 
 1 With the first violets of the year, the thought came into my mind, that they 
 sprang from Winslow's grave. 
 
 2 " happier thoughts 
 
 " Spring like unbidden flowers from the sod, 
 
 " Where patiently thou tak'st 
 
 " Thy sweet and sure repose." — Keble, in Lyra Apostolica. 
 
moo^iuQ unto 3itHn^t 
 
 THE SERMON, 
 
 NEXT AFTER THE DECEASE OF 
 
 THE REV. BENJAMIN DAVIS WINSLOWj 
 
 THE RT. REV. GEORGE WASHINGTON DOANE, D.D., LL,D., 
 
 BISHOP OF THE DIOCBSE OF NEW JERSEY, 
 AND HECTOR OF ST. MARt's CHURCH, BURLINGTON. 
 
Oh soothe us, haunt us, night and day. 
 Ye gentle spirits far away, 
 With whom we shared the cup of grace, 
 Then parted; ye to Christ's embrace, 
 We to the lonesome world again: 
 Yet mindful of the unearthly strain 
 Practised with you at Eden's door, 
 To be sung on, where angels soar, 
 With blended voices evermore. — Keble. 
 
SERMON. 
 
 LOOKING UNTO JESUS. 
 
 Hebrews xii. 2. 
 
 Scarcely an hour before that dear one, whose dust 
 we yesterday committed to the dust, became immor- 
 tal, when I spoke to him of "the Lamb of God, 
 which taketh away the sin of the world," he turned 
 his eyes to heaven, and with emphatic gesture point- 
 ed upward. He was "looking unto Jesus." He had 
 looked to Him,'through all his life, so brief, so beauti- 
 ful, as "the sacrifice for sin," not only, but "an en- 
 sample of godly living." He looked to Him through 
 all the stages of his tedious and distressing sickness, 
 as the Author of his faith, and the source of his con- 
 solation. And, in the hour of death, when his flesh 
 and his strength failed him, with heart, and eye, and 
 hand, he looked to Him, his crucified Redeemer, as 
 the God of his salvation. I know with what a radi- 
 ant glory every page of Holy Scripture is invested, 
 in the light of that transcendent truth, Jesus is God ! 
 I know with what a clear, distinct, and trumpet 
 
Xll 
 
 tone, the Church's voice has, "through the ages all 
 along," ^ proclaimed him "God of God, Light of 
 Light, very God of very God."^ I know with what 
 resistless eloquence the master minds of our theolo- 
 gy have set forth the redemption by the Cross ; and 
 with what unquestionable arguments they have de- 
 monstrated the offering of his blood there made, to 
 be " a full, perfect, and sufficient sacrifice, oblation 
 and satisfaction for the sins of the whole world. "^ 
 But in the holy life of that young man, crowned by 
 a death so holy; and in the simple gesture, so sub- 
 lime in its simplicity, which confided all, without a 
 word, for life, and death, and immortality, to the pro- 
 tection of the Cross, I feel a testimony to its truth 
 and power, which words can never bear : and I come 
 before you, my beloved brethren, from that serene 
 death-bed, as from some new revealment of the great 
 atoning sacrifice, to preach unto you, with new ear- 
 nestness, "Jesus and the Resurrection;" and to be- 
 seech you, with new importunity, for Christ's sake, 
 "be ye reconciled to God." 
 
 "Looking unto Jesu§." The Apostle does not 
 leave these words, expressive though they are, to any 
 possibility of vague or doubtful application. They 
 
 ' •' Feni, Creator, Spiritus," in the offices for the ordaining of Priests, and 
 consecration of Bishops. 
 
 2 The Niceue Creed, A. D. 325. 3 Communion Service. 
 
Xlll 
 
 are part of a most solemn exhortation to the Hebrew 
 Christians, towards the close of his epistle to them. 
 He had just been calling up, from the impressive re- 
 cords of the past, the storied names of Abel, and 
 Enoch, and Noah, and Abraham, and Moses, and 
 David, and Samuel, and the prophets, and others, 
 whom the time would fail him but to tell, who, 
 through faith, had overcome the world, and gone re- 
 joicing to their rest. By a noble stroke of eloquence 
 — surpassing far that celebrated oath of the Greek 
 orator, "By those at Marathon!"^ — he represents 
 these buried saints as hanging in mid air above the 
 path of their surviving brethren, militant on the 
 earth, in breathless interest in the fitful contest, and 
 burning with desire to see them "more than conquer- 
 ors." "Wherefore seeing we are compassed about 
 with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside 
 every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset 
 us, and let us run with patience the race that is set 
 before us, looking unto Jesus, the Author and Fin- 
 isher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before 
 him endured the Cross, despising the shame, and is 
 set down at the right hand of the throne of God." 
 Upon this wide field of motive and of precept, of ex- 
 hortation and of consolation, I enter not at large. I 
 
 ' Demosthenes in the oration, De Corona, cited with highest praise by 
 Longinus, in his treatise, De Sublimitatt. 
 
XIV 
 
 select from it a point or two, sufficient for our present 
 purpose. " Looking unto Jesus ! " " Looking unto 
 Jesus, the Author," or, as the margin hath it, the 
 Beginner, " and the Finisher of our faith." How 
 comprehensive the description! How much in a 
 few words! 
 
 Their theme is faith; 
 
 They declare Jesus to be at once its Author and its 
 Finisher; 
 
 They teach us that both for the gift and its rervard 
 rve are to look to him. 
 
 1. "Looking unto Jesus" — the theme of these 
 words is faith. Ours is a trusting nature. Faith is 
 its real Ufe. Without faith it is dead. What other 
 ground of intercourse has man with man? What 
 but reliance constitutes the endearment of the 
 filial tie? In what but mutual confidence are the 
 stability and comfort of the marriage compact foun- 
 ded? When the relation is transferred from man to 
 God, our moral nature does not change. It still re- 
 mains a trusting^ nature. Faith is the medium still 
 between the soul and its Creator. "Without faith," 
 says the Apostle, '4t is impossible to please him."^ 
 "He that believeth on the Son," says Jesus Christ, 
 " hath everlasting life, and he that believeth not the 
 Son, shall not see life, but the wrath of God abideth 
 
 ' Hebrews xi. 6. 
 
XV 
 
 on him.'" So of necessity it is. The man that has 
 no confidence in man thus insulates himself from all 
 his species, and is alone upon the earth. And he 
 who has no faith in God, is virtually as if there were 
 no God — "having no hope, and without God," (lite- 
 rally an Atheist) "in the world."^ On the other 
 hand, of them who are in the faith, the Scripture 
 wearies itself, as it were, in terms of commendation 
 and encouragement. They " walk by faith." They 
 "live by faith." They overcome the world, and 
 come off more than conquerors by faith. Through 
 all the trials and vicissitudes of life, they endure, 
 "as seeing Him who is invisible:" and, being "faith- 
 ful unto death," they receive, at last, the crown of 
 immortality. 
 
 2. Now, of this precious faith, of which such ''glo- 
 rious things are spoken," "Jesus," the Apostle tells 
 us, is "the Author and the Finisher." It owes 
 itself to him, and yet in him it finds its own ex- 
 ceeding great reward. He is the Author of our 
 faith. Death had passed upon our race, as the 
 just punishment of its rebellion. Our sins had se- 
 parated between our souls and God. We dare 
 not look on him who will not look upon iniquity. 
 The cry of our whole nature was, "Wherewithal 
 shall I come before the Lord?" It was in this 
 
 2 St. John iii. 36. » Ephesiana ii. 13. 
 
XVI 
 
 emergency, that the voice was heard, '* Lo, I come, 
 to do thy will, O God." It was on this darkness 
 that might be felt, that the Sun of righteousness 
 arose. As the first dawning of the cheerful day 
 gives hope and confidence to the benighted tra- 
 veller, in some inhospitable desert, so is Jesus 
 Christ, the "Author of our faith," "the day-spring 
 from on high," "to them that sit in darkness and 
 the shadow of death." The hope of pardon is re- 
 vealed. The path of duty is made plain. Foun- 
 tains of comfort and refreshment cheer the way. 
 And heaven unfolds its radiant portals to the long- 
 ing eye. And lo, "the Author" of our faith waits 
 there, to be its "Finisher'' and its Rewarder — to 
 crown us for a triumph not our own. The blessed 
 Saviour, who came from Heaven, "to seek and 
 save that which was lost," has gone to heaven, "to 
 prepare a place" for all that will return and come 
 to him. The Lamb of God, that was slain to take 
 away our sins, now liveth evermore, to be our In- 
 tercessor with the Father, "Jesus Christ the righte- 
 ous;" the same who also is "the propitiation for 
 our sins." 
 
 3. And how is he who is at once "the Author 
 and the Finisher of our faith," won to our help- 
 lessness, and made sure as our salvation? Alas, for 
 our poverty, if "the gift of God" were to be "pur- 
 
XVll 
 
 chased" by us "with money!" Alas, for our sin- 
 fuhiess, if, through *' any works of righteousness 
 which we have done," we came to him to save us! 
 He knew our helplessness too well. His thoughts 
 to us-ward were more considerate and more gracious. 
 ''As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness," 
 so has the Son of man been "lifted up" upon the 
 Cross. "Look unto me, and be ye saved," the voice 
 from heaven proclaims to all the ends of the earth 
 "look unto me, and be ye saved; for I am God, 
 and there is none else, and besides me there is no 
 Saviour." " Looking unto Jesus, the Author and 
 Finisher of our faith," with the meek reliance of a 
 trusting heart, our sins are pardoned; we find ac- 
 ceptance " in the Beloved ;" we are made more and 
 more like Him, on whom we look, in righteousness 
 and holiness; the victory is given to us, through 
 the dear might of Him who loved us, over the world 
 and sin and death. " Thanks be unto God who 
 giveth us the victory, through Jesus Christ our 
 Lord!" Immortal blessings and immortal praise, 
 that by the grave of him to whom our souls were 
 bound with cords of love, that bleed and agonize at 
 every pulse, we can stand up, with streaming eyes, 
 and countenance erect, and say, " Now" — even now, 
 in nature's most afflicted hour — "thanks be unto 
 God, who giveth us the victory, through our Lord 
 Jesus Christ!" 
 
XVlll 
 
 Brethren and friends, I come before you with a 
 bleeding heart. The hand of God is heavy on me, 
 with an unaccustomed and unlooked-for stroke. 
 When I brought home the dear child, in whose 
 affectionate bosom I had held for years a parent's 
 place, it was in all my thoughts that he should be 
 my fellow-helper here among you, while I lived; 
 dividing with me all the pastoral cares, and dou- 
 bling all the pastoral joys. And that when, in the 
 due course of nature, he had closed my eyes, and 
 laid my mortal portion in the dust of our sweet 
 rural resting place for weary travellers, I might re- 
 member, even in the paradise of God, with holy 
 satisfaction, that my sheep were tended by a shep- 
 herd after my own heart; and might go in and out, 
 and find immortal pasture, in the prudent guidance 
 of his hand, and in the assiduous self-devotion of 
 his faithful heart. But not so has it seemed to God. 
 And I, whose first sad office, when I came among 
 you, was to commit to earth the venerated form of 
 him^ who had been your minister in holy things, for 
 generation after generation, have now been called 
 to sepulchre the young, the lovely, the gifted, the 
 heavenly minded Winslow, " mine own son in the 
 
 1 The Rev. Charles H. Wharton, D.D., who died, July, 23, 1833, aged, 
 eighty-six years ; for thirty-five of which he had been Rector of St. Mary's 
 Church. 
 
XIX 
 
 faith," mine own son in the unreserving love of an 
 adopting father's heart ; and to perform for him the 
 melancholy rites which I had looked for from his 
 hand. I stand between two graves. I feel that the 
 frail earth on either side is crumbling towards me. 
 I feel that soon the narrow isthmus that sustains me 
 now will sink beneath me. I desire, to-day, to 
 speak, as a poor dying man, to dying men. I desire 
 to look through his grave into mine. I desire to 
 take you. brethren, by the hand, and lead you in 
 the path in which he walked, in the light of his 
 serene and beautiful example; that following him 
 together, as he has followed Christ, we may arise 
 with him from yonder Church-yard: and "through 
 the grave and gate of death, pass to our joyful resur- 
 rection," still "looking unto Jesus," "the Finisher," 
 then, as he is now, "the Author, of our faith." 
 Grant it to us, God of our salvation, for thy mercies' 
 sake, in Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen and Amen. 
 Benjamin Davis Winslow,^ was born in Boston, 
 Massachusetts, on the thirteenth of February, 1815. 
 My acquaintance with him began, on my removal to 
 that city, in 1828, as the Assistant Minister of Trinity 
 Church. I found him an intellio^ent and thouo;htful 
 boy, with a mind inquisitive and active beyond the 
 
 ' He was the son of Benjamin Winslow, merchant, and Abigail Amory Cal- 
 lahan, daughter of Captain John Callahan. 
 
XX 
 
 common wont;' and even then, although I knew it 
 not, producing fruits that seldom ripen on the full 
 grown tree. It was on Advent Sunday, November 
 28, 1830 — the next Sunday, being the first in Ad- 
 vent, will complete the ninth Ecclesiastical or Chris- 
 tian year, the measurement by which he always 
 
 • His father writes, " the early infancy of Benjamin, was remarkable for great 
 originality, bright ideas, and remarks beyond hia age." And, what is better still 
 than this, his " docility of disposition was such that little or no complaint was 
 ever made by any person having the care of him ; and I never knew a child so 
 'easily controlled." . The following little dialogue is remembered as taking place 
 between him and a younger sister, after their mother's death, when he was a 
 little more than six years old. 
 
 Benjamin. " Lucretia, see that beautiful star. Dear mother is up there, and 
 her spirit is looking down upon us. 
 
 Lucretia. How do you know, Benjamin 1 
 
 B. Why, dear mother said all good people went up above to God ; and that 
 He was pure and bright like the stars. 
 
 L. Can she look through that star ? 
 
 B. Mother said, God is a spirit, and could see every thing, and know every 
 thing ; and that those who love him would see as far as he can, 
 
 L. Can mother see us now 1 
 
 B. Mother's spirit can. 
 
 //. Why cannot mother see us 1 
 
 B. She will, when we are dead, and go to her." 
 
 Those who knew him well, his poetical fancy, and his loving nature, " sick- 
 lied o'er with the pale cast of thought," will feel how true it is, " the boy is fa- 
 ther of the man." 
 
 The playful humour, as bright, and as beautiful, and as harmless, as the heat- 
 lightning of our summer skies, in which he excelled all men I ever knew, was 
 also developed very early ; as when he said, at four years old, to a venerable 
 relative, who was very much bent with years, " Aunt Sally, why don't you 
 stoop backwards .?" 
 
XXI 
 
 loved to take his note of time — that I stood up with 
 him, as his God-father ; when, at his own instance, 
 
 The following is the earliest poetical composition of his that I have seen. It 
 was written at ten years of age. It certainly has character. 
 
 I. III. 
 
 Death has set his seal I looked towards the sky, 
 On all that earth has given ; And it was wrapt in flame, 
 
 But then for some 'tis well, And forth, I knew not why. 
 For death's the road to heaven. The King of terrors came. 
 
 II. IT. 
 
 The warrior on the field doth fall, He then took forth a seal; 
 
 The statesman on his bed, An end to life was given : 
 
 And priest and prince and peasant all The end for some was well. 
 
 Are numbered with the dead. For 'twas the road to heaven. 
 
 Of his early years, a sufficient notice is contained in the customary record of 
 the graduating class at the University, which is as follows. 
 
 " Some account of the early life of B. D. Winslow," extracted from the class 
 books of the graduating class, of 1835, "written by himself." 
 
 '•On the 13th of February, 1815, 1 commenced myexistence — the date of its 
 termination must be recorded by our worthy Secretary ; or some other brother 
 who shall survive : always provided, that I myself am not the last survivor of 
 the class of '35, in which case (altogether however improbable) it must be done 
 by some one not enrolled in our worthy brotherhood. But to my life — like all 
 other lives, it had its ups and downs, its lights and shadows. My path has 
 been illumined by some sunshine, though not without occasional clouds; and 
 darkened by more storms, not altogether destitute of the bow of hope and pro- 
 mise. To myself, my existence has been rife with many interesting and im- 
 portant incidents, which to others would be altogether destitute of interest. If 
 any thing in this world is stupid and meet to bore a man, it is the journal of a 
 private individual's hopes and fears, loves and hatreds, passions and emotions ; 
 and the other thousand matters which constitute life — of which opinion 
 being thoroughly persuaded, I shall refrain from inflicting any such relation 
 upon the reader (if readers there should be) of this narration. 
 
XXll 
 
 and on the full conviction of his mind and heart, he 
 was admitted to the Church of God, in holy baptism, 
 in Christ Church, Boston, by the hands of its beloved 
 Rector, the Rev. William Croswell. Thus, in the 
 sixteenth year of his age — the very year at which 
 good Josiah "began to seek after the God of David, 
 his father" — did our dear friend devote himself, with 
 
 I remained at home, among my household gods, till the age of 8 or 9, (I have 
 forgotten which,) when for my health's sake, I took up my abode in the country 
 at the residence of Gen. William Hull, Newton, in whose delightful family I 
 remained nearly a year. From thence I winged my flight to another rest, viz: 
 the abode of the Rev. Samuel Ripley, Waltham, where I was first initiated in 
 the rudiments of the Latin language, and those other mysteries of literature and 
 science, in the pursuit of which, I have since so distinguished myself at our 
 venerable University. At the expiration of two years I left Mr. Ripley's with 
 much regret, and returned to my native city, Boston ; there, under the tuition of 
 D. G. Ingraham, Esqr. — a name, which all his pupils together with myself, will 
 ever mention with respect and affection — I remained until August, 1831, when 
 I became a student of old Harvard (clarum et venerabile nomen.) Of my col- 
 lege career ; of that which I may have accomplished, if any thing; of the motives 
 by which I have been actuated in my intercourse with my class-mates, it be- 
 comes others to speak and judge. From my class-mates, I have received many 
 testimonials of kindness and good feeling, for which I shall ever feel most 
 grateful. Deo volente, I intend to be a clergyman ; and if nothing happen, in 
 the course of three years, I shall take orders in the Protestant Episcopal Church : 
 a communion to which I have ever been devoutly attached, in whose behalf I am 
 ready to offer whatever talents I may have been gifted with, and whatever know- 
 ledge I may have acquired, or shall yet gain. So much for my life, so much 
 for my future prospects; and now, nothing remains but the customary bow, the 
 parting grasp of the hand — the friendly, the long, perhaps the last farewell. 
 That all my class-mates may be fortunate and happy, beyond what they desire 
 or ask, is the sincere wish of Benjamin D. Winslow. 
 
 Harvard University, May 8th, 1835. 
 
'«.i 
 
 XXlll 
 
 purpose of heart/ to cleave unto the Lord; and thus 
 was that spiritual relationship first formed between 
 us, which ripened into the most perfect confidence 
 and unreserving love that ever grew between a father 
 
 ' He was not prone to speak of himself, or of his feelings. The power of his 
 religion was apparent in the " daily beauty " of his life. But a few passages 
 from some of his early letters, may well be inserted here. 
 
 To his most intimate friend, he writes, AV^ York, May, 26, 1836. "You 
 promised, sometime, to write your views upon religion. I have looked for this 
 
 long, earnestly, and with great interest. Do fulfil your promise, my dear ! 
 
 For what more noble subject can two true friends converse or correspond about ? 
 I have always feared, even with you, to introduce the subject, lest I should do 
 some injury to a cause which I have much at heart. But it is my constant 
 prayer, that we may both be led into all truth : and that having as friends, pas- 
 sed together, with hearts firmly knit, through all the changes and chances of 
 time, we may be friends in and for eternity. Is there not something sublime 
 in the thought of such a friendship 1 God grant that it may be ours !" 
 
 And again, JVew York, January 5, 1837. " I passed the Christmas holi- 
 days at Burlington. You heretics have no conception, how much hearty old- 
 fashioned honest pleasure, we orthodox churchmen extract from our various 
 festivals, especially from that of Christmas. The music, the Church service, 
 the beautiful custom of decking the houses and Churches with evergreens, the 
 social mirth and festivity, the calling forth of the fire-side affections and sympa- 
 thies, all combine to make that day the holiest and the happiest of the year. I 
 wish that we could have passed that holiday together. ****** Jn your 
 last, you say, that you must have excitement; and so mean to go to all the 
 parties and balls of the gay season. Confident as I am, that that sort of ex- 
 citement is unhealthy, and leaves the soul in a worse state, than it finds it, still 
 you know, that I never undertake to obtrude my peculiar views and feelings 
 upon any one unasked, even upon my dearest friend. Permit me however, to 
 
 say, dear , that you were made for something better, purer, more enduring 
 
 than worldly amusements. ***** I beg of you to read what the Saviour said 
 about the world ; and the principles of the < world ;' and also what he said to 
 that ' young man,' endowed with various and beautiful mental, moral, and per- 
 
XXiV 
 
 and his child. Never had I to regret the Christian 
 responsibihty which I then assumed. Never had I 
 to "put him in mind v^hat a solemn vow, promise 
 and profession he had made before that congrega- 
 tion, and especially before" me "his chosen wit- 
 ness."^ Never had I to "call on him to use all dili- 
 gence to be rightly instructed in God's holy word, 
 that so he mi^^ht orrow in orrace and in the know- 
 ledge of our Lord Jesus Christ, and live godly, 
 righteously, and soberly in this present life."^ From 
 
 haps physical graces, whom when He beheld, He loved him; and yet, was 
 obliged to tell him, * One thing thou lackest.' " 
 
 And again, St. J\Iari/'s Parsonage, Burlington, January 20, 1839. " Your 
 last letter called forth my deepest sympathy ; for I have at times myself, been 
 in the very state which you describe, unable to take an interest in any thing. 
 With me it is the result of a deranged physical system, though not always. I 
 believe myself that disgust and discontent proceed in a good degree, and oftener 
 than we think, from the insufficiency of any thing earthly to fill the soul. We 
 all have a longing for the beautiful, for something perfect. We all have our 
 ideals and our idols. But they do not please us long or much. The secret is 
 this, God made the heart for himself, and it is restless until it rests in Him. 
 
 What I would advise you to do, dearest , as a remedy for your ennui and 
 
 wretchedness, is to seek to know the Eternal One, and to do His will. Strip 
 this thought of all the sameness with which cant and dulness have clothed it, 
 and you have the most sublime work that an immortal spirit can do. To know 
 the Lord of Hosts, to make him your friend, to despise every thing in compari- 
 son with God, is not this worthy of the greatest moral and mental powers ? 
 Think not that these are penned as words of course. They are, ' the words of 
 truth and soberness.' " 
 
 ' Exhortation to the God-fathers and God-mothers, in the office for " the 
 ministration of baptism to such as are of riper years." 
 
XXV 
 
 that laver of regeneration/ in which he was "born 
 again," and made the child of God, he went still for- 
 ward, through renewing grace; "increasing," like 
 the holy Pattern of all piety, "in wisdom, and sta- 
 ture, and in favour with God and man," till he be- 
 came w^hat you have seen and known him — and, 
 what I have felt, with the instinctive selfishness of 
 nature, too much for me to lose. But "precious in 
 the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints;" and 
 to Him who giveth all to us, it were unworthy in us 
 to grudge even the most precious. 
 
 It was in the next year that he went to the Uni- 
 versity. The prevailing interest at Harvard is what 
 is called Unitarianism. The prevailing influence in 
 every Collegiate institution is too apt to be worldli- 
 ness and thoughtlessness of God. And yet, through 
 this two-fold ordeal — the one tending to undermine 
 his principles, the other to corrupt his practice — he 
 passed, unscathed not only, but brighter and purer 
 for the fires. He maintained, through the whole 
 of his Collegiate life, the character and influence of 
 a devout communicant; having been admitted such, 
 as he has beautifully recorded, on Easter day, 1832.^ 
 He maintained, through his whole Collegiate life, the 
 
 ' Titus iii. 5; St. John iii. 3, 5; Church Catechism; Baptismal Service. 
 ' "Communed, for the first time, in Christ Church, Boston, Easter day, 18.32; 
 the Rev. WiiUam Croswell, being the officiating Priest." — Private Record. 
 D 
 
XXVI 
 
 principles and usages of a Catholic Churchman. He 
 was never absent from the house of prayer on any 
 holy day of the Christian year. And he gathered 
 about him a little company of like minded youths, 
 who statedly assembled in his chamber, for improve- 
 ment in religious knowledge and in spiritual devo- 
 tion. They were the pious Churchmen of the Col- 
 lege, and he was the centre about which they re- 
 volved. And yet he never alienated, by his severe 
 integrity of character, one member of the Institu- 
 tion.^ The gayest of the gay, the most thoughtless 
 of the thoughtless, courted his society. He won 
 them to him by his gentle, loving nature. He kept 
 them about him by his sweet and playful, yet always 
 sober, dignified, and instructive conversation. He 
 commanded their respect by the vigour of his intel- 
 
 •His love of the University was passionate, and he never tired of writing or 
 discoursing of the pleasures of his college life, " I still retain," he writes to his 
 father, JVew York, February, 11th, 1836, "all my affection for old Harvard, 
 and would give all the world, if I had it to give, to be back there. In my waking 
 dreams, and in my sleeping visions, I frequently am there in spirit — wander by 
 moonlight about those old classic shades ; pursue my former studies ; and, above 
 all, hold sweet communion with the cherished friends of my college-days. As 
 for this unintellectual, dirty, money-making, mammon-devoted city, I dislike it 
 more and more. Oh, for Cambridge, and its soothing, literary influences ! But 
 this may not be. And it is the student's, above all, the Christian student's, 
 duty to improve his mind, and be contented, wherever Divine Providence may 
 see fit to place him." 
 
xxvu 
 
 lect, and the variety and beauty of his acquirements. 
 He maintained their confidence by his habitual self- 
 respect, his disinterested benevolence, his fear of 
 God that knew no other fear, his meek, serene, un- 
 ostentatious, and yet radiant piety — shining out 
 among them, even as the face of Moses shone, when 
 he came down from God, and yet, himself, like Mo- 
 ses, unconscious of its splendour. When a young 
 member of the University, of great promise, was 
 taken from life,^ he was elected by all the Classes to 
 deliver the eulogy. When honours were assigned 
 to his own Class, or to the two Classes which unite 
 in some of the Collegiate exhibitions, he always had 
 an honourable share. And, but the other day, the 
 President of the University, lamenting bitterly the 
 prospect of his untimely taking-off, emphatically 
 said. When he was here, we all regarded him as the 
 pillar of the University. Like Daniel, at Babylon, 
 he not only held fast his own integrity, but strength- 
 ened and brought honour on the state of which he 
 was a member ; and caused his Church and God to 
 be acknowledged as the living and the true. Truth, 
 my beloved brethren, is almighty power. Even in 
 a wicked world, virtue is irresistible. True Chris- 
 tian piety is light from heaven ; beautiful in itself, 
 
 • Mr. HofTreian, of Baltimore. 
 
XXVlll 
 
 and beautifying, and felt as beautifying, every object 
 upon which it falls. 
 
 From the University, which he left in 1835, he 
 came to me. As he had been my spiritual son 
 before, so now he became, so far as nature would, 
 my son according to the flesh. He grew up together 
 with me, and with my children. He did eat of my 
 meat, and drank of my cup, and lay in my bosom, 
 and was unto me as a child. And never did com- 
 munity of blood enkindle an affection more warm, 
 more true, more fond, than his for me.^ He has left 
 none behind, I well believe, who loved me with a 
 fuller and more fervent love ; and I could illy bear 
 to lose it from the earth, did I not well believe that 
 it now springs, immortal, as his redeemed, trans- 
 formed and glorious nature. 
 
 "They sin who tell us love can die; 
 With life all other passions fly, 
 All others are but vanity ; " 
 " But love is indestructible, 
 Its holy flame forever burneth, 
 From Heaven it came, to Heaven returneth."2 
 
 From the time of his baptism, he had devoted 
 
 ' Just as it would be to him, / may not here record the deep expressions of his 
 grateful love for me and mine, in letters to his father, and his other friends. 
 Let it suffice to say, they were the overflowing fulness, and the glowing fervour 
 of a heart, as full and fervent as beat ever in a mortal's breast; and far outran 
 the measure of that love for him, which overpaid itself. 
 
 2 Southey, Curse of Kehama. The whole passage is most exquisite. 
 
XXIX 
 
 himself, should it please God to accept the offering, 
 to the ministry of the Church : fulfilling thus, I have 
 no doubt, the "heart's desire and prayer to God" of 
 his most affectionate and pious mother, lost to him 
 when he was little more than six years old ; and 
 ever remembered by him with the most touching 
 tenderness.^ So unreserving was this dedication of 
 
 'He constantly referred to her, in all his'letters, with the strongest terms of 
 love. The following letter to a sister illustrates the sweet and radiant playful- 
 ness of his nature. 
 
 "JVeiu York, March 16, 1837. 
 "I have been reading Mother's letters very much of late, which I hope you 
 often do. How many things in them bring you to my mind —you are so often 
 spoken of as ' little Fudge,' and by an hundred endearing appellations. I 
 perfectly shouted with laughter and delight over one incident of your very early 
 life. The evening of a day on which Father went to New York, Mother says 
 that you prayed that he might come back the next day; and you took care to 
 add — sly little rogue as you were — a petition that Father might bring the pre- 
 sents, and that yours might be a little Bible. This incident amused me ex- 
 ceedingly. However, dear, the last part of it was truly pleasing. I hope, and 
 pray, dear, that you will always love the Bible as much as you did theri. In 
 great haste, and greater love, most affectionately your brother, 
 
 Benjamin Davis Winslow." 
 The following, to the same sister, is worthy of recording, for its wholesome 
 counsels. They may have greater influence with youthful minds, for having 
 been written at twenty one. 
 
 "JV'ew York, January 10, 1836. 
 " How do you pass the time at Roxbury, generally ? When you write, give 
 me some account of it. I hope you read, daily, beside the Bible, some stand- 
 ard works in History, Poetry, &c. You ought to do this, my dear , because 
 
 it is the only way to keep the mind in a proper state. Study is as necessary 
 
XXX 
 
 himself to the sacred office, that he from that time 
 steadfastly withdrew himself from all the questiona- 
 ble amusements of the world : replying to one who 
 spoke to him of the theatre, "No, I have put my 
 foot down to be a minister of Christ, and I will have 
 nothing to do with that." 
 
 He was admitted in October, 1835, a member of 
 the General Theological Seminary, on the Bishop 
 Croes Scholarship, in the gift of the Bishop of the 
 Diocese.^ During his residence there, as at the Uni- 
 
 to the growth, nay, the very life of the mind, as food to the body — and if the 
 mind be not cultivated, it will run to a most ruinous waste. Beside, this is, 
 perhaps, your only chance for such mental improvement. Moreover, I do like 
 to see all ladies, not blues, exactly, but intelligent and well improved upon 
 general topics. If, too, young ladies would read and study more than they do, 
 they would have it in their power to do much towards elevating the character 
 of society." 
 
 1 1 subjoin here some extracts from letters written ;hy him, while at the 
 Seminary, rather to show his affectionateness of disposition, and subdued, 
 yet cheerful piety, than for any peculiar literary merit. He disliked letter-writ- 
 ing, and thought himself unsuccessful in it. 
 
 From a Letter to his Father. 
 
 " Yesterday was Thanksgiving day in Massachusetts. I thought of the 
 family party assembled, with more absentees than on any former occasion. 
 These meetings become really sad at last. Families get so broken up. Mem- 
 ber after member departs. Until at last, only a lingering few remain. Happy, 
 thrice happy, shall we all be, if, when ' the earthly house of this tabernacle is 
 dissolved,' we may be re-united among the great family of those who have been 
 redeemed, and washed from all pollution in the blood of the Lamb. I trust that 
 the absentees were remembered ; and that Virginia, Sonth Carolina, New York, 
 
 .^- 
 
XXXI 
 
 versity, he was distinguished for the attractiveness 
 of his society and for the influence of his character : 
 
 and the wide ocean, were each the shrine of some friendly heart's pilgrimage." 
 
 To the same. 
 
 " You have doubtless heard of the horrible murder, which occurred lately in 
 a licentious house in this city. Oh what a city this is ! I had no idea of the 
 depth and extent of man's depravity, until I came here. Yet this knowledge 
 should, and I hope does, excite me to do all in my power to spread abroad in 
 the world, that system which sets forth Jesus Christ, the Saviour of sinners, 
 even of the chief. Bad as the world is, what would it be without the GospeH" 
 To the same, in much affliction. 
 
 " The other night I was awake, thinking of you, and regretting that I could 
 not be with you, when suddenly the blessed thought came over me, that God 
 is present with us both ; so that in Him, and by Him, we are together ! Think 
 of this sometimes, my dear father. The cup proffered you is bitter, and one from 
 which you might well pray, in the words of our Saviour, to be delivered ; and 
 yet, the cup which our Father gives us, shall we not drink iti" 
 
 To the same. 
 
 " I begin to believe that the season for forming real friendships, has gone by, 
 and that henceforth I must be lonely in life. And, yet, not alone, \ithe one Friend 
 be with me. How wisely has it been ordered, that human sympathy should be 
 imperfect, that human friendship should be uncertain ; since otherwise we 
 should pour out all our affections on earthly objects, and never seek for that 
 friendship which is better than life." 
 
 To his friend. 
 
 "We have very recently had a death in our family in Boston. One of my 
 aunts, and one of the best women that ever lived. She was very strongly at- 
 tached to me, and would have done any thing in the world for me. It is a sad 
 thing to know that one of the few hearts that beat truly and warmly to my 
 own, is still and cold. But it is a blessed thing to realize, that there is another 
 soul in the Paradise of God, that it may be, watches and prays for my welfare, 
 and waits for the day of my coming to the eternal mansions." 
 
 The aunt of whom he speaks, was one of three maiden sisters of his mother, 
 
XXXll 
 
 devoting his time and strength most assiduously to 
 the attainment of that sound learnincr which would 
 
 upon whom, after her death, much had devolved for the care of her infant child- 
 ren ; and to whom he never could sufficiently express his sense of gratitude for 
 the principles, which, through their influence mainly, he had imbibed. " What 
 a comfort it is," he writes to them, on the occasion of their sister's death, "when 
 we feel how poor the consolation we can give, to know that there is one with 
 you, who 'will not leave you comfortless !' And what a privilege it is to friends, 
 who are separated in times of affliction, to be permitted to pray for each other ! 
 I commend you to Him who once breathed into the ears of the afflicted sisters 
 of Bethany, ' I am the Resurrection and the life !' May He comfort us all !" 
 It was to the eldest of these aunts, that at a former date, Easter Eve, 1833, he 
 had addressed this beautiful and characteristic note. " My dear Aunt, I am 
 exceedingly obliged to you for your kind and acceptable gift — rendered still 
 more so, by being presented on a day hallowed by so many thrilling recollec- 
 tions; being the anniversary of our blessed Saviour's cross and passion, and of 
 the death of my dear mother, I thank you for the interest you take in my 
 temporal and eternal welfare; and I take this occasion to say, that from your- 
 self and from your sisters, I received the first serious impressions of those things 
 which belong to my everlasting peace. That the sorrows and afflictions which 
 now so closely surround you, may continue but ' for the night,' and that joy 
 may come in ' in the morning,' is the sincere prayer of your aflTectionate ne- 
 phew." — His pious prayer was answered in due time, in the dispersion of the 
 cloud to which he made allusion ; and he lived to rejoice in the light, " as the 
 light of seven days," with which it pleased the All-giver to replace its baleful 
 gloom. On one occasion he wrote thus of it to his aunts. "I had a most de- 
 lightful time at . seems, and is, perfectly well and happy. What a 
 
 change from last spring ! Can we be too thankful to our Heavenly Father for 
 this great mercy ! Truly can we exclaim, The hand of God is in this ! I 
 should almost be tempted to believe that our blessed Saviour was once more 
 upon the earth, and had stood in that dwelling, and caused peace and light to arise 
 from sorrow and gloom. Let us pray fervently that this blessing may be con- 
 tinued to us !" 
 
XXXlll 
 
 qualify him to be an "able minister of the New Tes- 
 tament;" and in all his life and conversation, by 
 word, and deed, and good example, sustaining the 
 character of the Church, which was the adoption of 
 his heart, upon the full conviction of his mind, and 
 exercising on all around him the most salutary in- 
 fluence for truth and order, for holiness and piety, 
 for harmony and charity. There are those here, who, 
 in that school of the prophets, lived with him, as dai- 
 ly companions and familiar friends: and one,^ espe- 
 cially, the sharer of his room and of his heart — whom 
 he loved with an own brother's love, and who re- 
 turns it all — who will attest, as you have heard this 
 morning, the power which he exerted there. And, 
 of the value of the acquirements which he made, his 
 ripe and mellow scholarship; his terse and vigorous 
 style, with all the strength and practice of a man, in 
 prime of mind; his apt and cogent application of the 
 word of truth; his clear and lucid reasonings; his 
 manly and affectionate appeals; his lofty, spirit-stir- 
 ing exhortations to the faith and practice of the Gos- 
 pel; his beautiful and touching applications of the 
 institutions, services and usages of the Church — 
 you, my brethren, are well fitted to be judges: and 
 if your hearts have not felt their power, and your 
 
 ' The Rev. Frederick Ogilby, who preached in St. Mary's Church, in the 
 morning. 
 
XXXIV 
 
 lives do not exemplify their worth, it would be bet- 
 ter for you, in the hour when he shall look among 
 you for the seals of his brief ministry, that you 
 never had been born. 
 
 Daily sensible how much I needed some one to 
 assist me in the duties of this parish, added as they 
 are, in my case, to the care of all the Churches of 
 the Diocese; and well convinced how useful he 
 would be to me and you, even as a lay assistant, 
 I took him from the Seminary, before his course 
 was ended. From that day,^ until it pleased God 
 
 ' This was a happy day for him. Personal as its expressions are, I cannot 
 exclude the expression of his joy in this arrangement, as expressed to his dear- 
 est College friend. 
 
 "At last, my return to New York is entirely given up ; and I am to finish 
 my studies in Burlington, under the Bishop. I am comfortably and delight- 
 fully settled, with every thing about me to make me happy. Imagine me, dear 
 
 , from day to day, seated at my old desk, in the Bishop's study, surrounded 
 
 by a glorious Library, and ever drinking from the richest fountains of profane 
 and sacred literature. When I am tired of books, then I can go out and walk, 
 and breathe the fresh air, untainted by the exhalations of a city. And when 
 out-door amusements fail, I can come to the domestic fire-side, and feel myself 
 
 one of a happy family circle. So, , henceforth your old friend, Ben, hails 
 
 from Burlington, New Jersey." 
 
 I verily believe there never was a happier man than he was at this period : 
 and all the more so, as, to the studies and social pleasures, of which he speaks 
 with such a zest, he added useful practical duties, as I have stated in the text. 
 At this time, he writes to his Father thus. " My time is very pleasantly occu- 
 pied here ; and I think that I am much better in bodily health than in New 
 York. I visit a great deal among the plainer class of people, and see much to 
 
XXXV 
 
 to lay his heavy hand upon him, his life was given 
 all to yon; and, in the humble sphere of Catechist, 
 he performed services, and accomplished results, 
 such as very few attain, even in the ministry of the 
 Church. Of his unwearied assiduity in the instruc- 
 tion of your children ; of his unsparing self-devotion 
 in visiting and comforting the sick and the afflicted ; 
 of his swift foot on every errand of benevolence ; of 
 his quick hand in every work of mercy; of his kind 
 voice in every hour of trial or of trouble, who does 
 not know? Who that has needed its experience has 
 not been himself partaker? He shrunk from no ef- 
 fort, however greater than his strength ; he felt su- 
 perior to no office, however unusual to his rank of 
 
 awaken my sympathy with poor human nature. What a frail, suffering thing 
 it is! I am sure, ' I would not live alway !' I have been, of late, by several 
 death-beds, and witnessed the last hours of several who have died in faith and 
 peace. Sometimes I think, after having been in sick rooms, and heard the for- 
 cible remarks of those who realize the nothingness of things temporal, that I 
 will never again give a thought, or an affection, to this present world. But it 
 has its charms, and especially for the young. Suffering weans us from it, if 
 we receive it rightly. But how much better to renounce it, when it seems 
 bright and fair, for the love of God ! That is the true wisdom." 
 
 It was at this time that an eye witness, well qualified to judge, thus wrote of 
 him. " I know not what we should do now in our parish, without dear Ben. He 
 is so useful in the Sunday School, so acceptable in his intercourse with all, so 
 kind to the poor, so attentive to the aged, so considerate to the young, so strictly 
 correct in his deportment, and so bright and consistent in the Christian exam- 
 ple he furnishos." 
 
XXXVl 
 
 life, that ministered to human suffering. He en- 
 countered storms, he travelled miles, he bore oppres- 
 sive burdens, that he mio-ht cheer the couch of sick- 
 ness, and console the abode of poverty. He added 
 nights of watching to days of toil, that he might as- 
 suage the cheerlessness, and comfort the loneliness of 
 disease and want. And once, when he w^as sick 
 himself, and should have been in his own bed, he 
 absolutely stole away from me, lest I should not per- 
 mit him, in his weakness, that he might watch by 
 the corpse of a negro boy, whose friends he feared 
 miofht have their feelino^s hurt, if he declined the of- 
 fice. All this time he was the most industrious stu- 
 dent that I ever knew ; and when he came to be ex- 
 amined for deacon's orders, a venerable Presbyter,^ 
 now before me, familiar for forty years with such 
 examinations, declared that his was the best he had 
 ever attended. Before that sacred rail, he kneeled, 
 on Whitsunday, of 1838, to receive at my hands the 
 office and authority of Deacon ; and never, since the 
 saintly Stephen, I am well persuaded, has one en- 
 tered on it with a lower estimate of self, or with a 
 purer self-devotion to its duties^ — never did one by 
 
 ' The Rev. Dr. Eaton. 
 
 ~ To his Father, he wrote, on this occasion. "St. Mary's Parsoiiage, June 
 il, 1838. The ordination took place in St. Mary's Church, on Whitsund.-jy, 
 June 3d, and a most interesting occasion il was. The Bishop preached, and 
 
XXXV u 
 
 "the modesty, humility and constancy of his minis- 
 trations," his ''ready will to observe all spiritual dis- 
 cipline," and "the testimony of a good conscience,"' 
 approve himself more v^orthy to be called unto those 
 "higher ministeries," v^hich Jesus has appointed in 
 his Church; and to the lov^er of which, the office of 
 a Priest, these hands, that now have trembled in his 
 last embrace, admitted him, on the fifteenth day of 
 the last March. ^ 
 
 And now, I surely felt that all my wishes had 
 been realized, and all my hopes of comfort to my- 
 self, and usefulness to the Church, were in the way 
 of accomplishment. He had done all things well. 
 He was in all respects what I desired to see him. 
 He had derived his principles from the pure foun- 
 
 the personal appeal to me was extremely touching. If I live to be ordained Priest, 
 you must make every effort to be present. Yesterday, I preached for the first 
 time: in the morning, in St. Stephen's Church, Willingborough ; and in the 
 afternoon, in St. Mary's. This was also a very trying day to me : for I realize 
 it now to be an awful thing to stand up and minister in holy things, and preach 
 the Gospel to frail and sinful men. I trust that I shall be enabled to do right, 
 and to speak the truth in love." 
 
 ' Prayer in the office for the ordering of Deacons. 
 
 -Again, he writes to his Father, Pa/m Sunday, 1839 — "I was ordained 
 Priest, by the Bishop, on Friday, 15lh March, in the little Church, in which 1 
 was married, and ordained Deacon. Thus, my de;ir Father, your son is in full 
 orders. Pray for me, that I may be humble, and not a self-seeker, nor a seeker 
 for the praises of men; and that I may be the instrument of leading some souls 
 to eternal life!" 
 
XXXVIU 
 
 tain of the word of God. He had confirmed them 
 all, and proved them true and real, by the attestation 
 of that chain of witnesses, which God has ever kept, 
 and set, in an nlibroken series, in his holy Church. 
 He had put on — far, far beyond his years — the shin- 
 ing armour, which the champions of the truth, age 
 after age, have laid up in the house of God, for its 
 " defence and confirmation." He was imbued with 
 the purest spirit of the best days of Christianity;^ 
 and he was drinking ever more and more from that 
 full stream which flows fast by the oracle of God. 
 His vigorous mind, his fertile fancy, his judicious 
 memory, his uncompromising firmness, his stern 
 devotion to the truth, ^ his comprehensive and pre- 
 vailing charity, all were daily ripening ; and I felt 
 that I had in him a sympathising friend, a prudent 
 counsellor, an able auxiliary, to work with me while 
 I could work, to carry out the principles and plans 
 for which alone I live, and, when my voice is sealed 
 
 • A fellow-student of his, at the General Theological Seminary, the Rev, 
 Reuben J. Germain, has often said of him, that " he embodied more of the spirit 
 of the Church than any man he ever knew." 
 
 2 The Rev. Alfred Stubbs, thus speaks of him, in a letter recently received: 
 "Allow me to express my sympathy in your recent and severe affliction. Un- 
 searchable, indeed, are God's judgments. I had the happiness of your nephew's 
 acquaintance and friendship at the Seminary ; and never have I known a man 
 who seemed so truly deserving of our blessed Lord's commendation, ' Behold 
 an Israelite, indeed, in whom there is no guile.' " 
 
XXXIX 
 
 in death, to bear them onward, to another generation, 
 and then to add his dying testimony to my own. , 
 Shall I repress it — I rejoiced in all he had, and all 
 he was, as something of my own? Need I deny it — 
 I felt in all he had, and all he was, a father's (yet, I 
 trust, a Christian father's) pride? Often taken from 
 the seat and centre of my heart's affections, by of- 
 ficial duty, I felt that all I loved were sure to have 
 in him a faithful and judicious friend. OccupieiJ 
 with countless duties and concerns, which interfere 
 with the entire performance of the pastoral office, I 
 felt, that in him, I had for every sheep and every 
 lamb of all my fl.ock, a shepherd,^ that would "call 
 them all by name," and lead them out, and serve 
 them, "faithful unto death." Whatever he saw, I 
 saw as with my own eyes. Whatever he did, was 
 
 ' He had, if I may so speak, a passion for the pastoral life, A Parsonage was 
 the Arcadia of his poetic dreams : and this, a rural and a humble one. Thus 
 he writes to one of his sisters, " A'ew York, midnight, JVovember 4, 1835. — I 
 
 trust, dear , you will keep firm to the Church; and also will keep your 
 
 good little sister , in the right way. Your love for the Church gives me 
 
 the greatest satisfaction ; and I still look forward to our Parsonage under the 
 hill: whence you and I will sally forth, to visit the poor; you in your russetgown, 
 and I in my black cloak." And again, writing to the same, of an absent sister. 
 "JVew York, about midnight, December^, 1835. She sent me a sweet little 
 book. How kind she is to think of these little matters, when she is so far away! 
 And we are all away from home now ! And where is our home 1 I feel as if 
 I had none on earth ; but I hope I shall have, one of these days. And you will 
 all come and stay at the Parsonage — seven brown loaves a-piece, with a calico 
 gown! Fine living, that !" 
 
xl 
 
 done as with my own hands. Whatever he under- 
 took to do, was done of course; done with the spirit, 
 and to the letter. He was myself, more than my 
 substitute; and his generous heart beat to my in- 
 terests more promptly and more true than to his 
 own. He miffht have had a hiorher station in the 
 Church : but it was his choice to be with me. Well 
 do I remember, how he lingered in his spirit, at the 
 threshold of the priesthood, as feeling that the lowest 
 office in God's house were best for him. Well and 
 truly do I know, that, with all his faculties, and all 
 his gifts, it would have been his choice to labour 
 here with me, under my auspices, and for your edi- 
 fication and salvation. And often, and with heart- 
 felt satisfaction and delight, have I contemplated the 
 precious fruits, for personal comfort, for pastoral 
 profit, for eternal joy, which should be ripened and 
 matured in this life-long association. 
 
 But it was not to be so. He who lent us such a 
 treasure, saw some use for him in Heaven. Did He 
 not see, dear brethren, that by us he was not duly 
 valued? In the midst of his usefulness, in the bright 
 promise of his aspiring youth, when his nest was but 
 just made, and warm with all the tender charities of 
 life,^ the sure decree came forth; and the inexorable 
 
 ' He was most happily married, November 8th, 1838, to Miss Augusta Cath- 
 arine Barnes. He left an infant of a month, a little boy. 
 
 
xli 
 
 hand of death was laid on our beloved. Almost from 
 the first, he was prophetic of its import. Indeed, it 
 was a common thought with him, that length of days 
 were not in store for him. Still, he continued to toil 
 on beyond his strength. Still, he resorted to the 
 aids and applicatiofts of the healing art. Still, he 
 exerted every effort, and had recourse to every expe- 
 dient, that the most skilful, most faithful, and most 
 affectionate physician that man was ever blessed 
 with, aided by the best science of our neighboring 
 city, could devise, to avert the evil; which, though 
 not dark to him,^ must bring, he knew, such dark- 
 
 ' The Rev. Henry Burroughs, who was with him, both at the University and 
 at the Seminary, and saw him towards the close of his last illness, thus writes ; 
 
 " Right Reverend and Dear Sir, 
 
 Allow me to express my sympathy with you, and with all who mourn 
 our dear Winslow. The Church has truly lost an ornament and a strong sup- 
 porter. It was for the sake of the Church that he wished, (if God were wil- 
 ling,) to live ; and most nobly and strongly would he have continued to ad- 
 vocate her principles. But God has willed otherwise ; and perhaps, ' he, being 
 dead,' and yet speaking, may serve the cause of the Gospel as truly as when 
 he lived. The notice in the ' Banner of the Cross,' is to me most interesting, 
 and highly gratifying ; and I hope, that the same hand (which I doubt not is 
 your own,) will, ere long, give to the world a full account of his life and char- 
 acter. Such a biography, showing the influence of the institutions of the 
 Church upon the heart and life, would prove more conclusively than all the ar- 
 guments of reason, that the Holy Spirit acts upon us by and in those institu- 
 tions. It would answer those who charge ua with losing the substance of re- 
 ligion in our attachment to forms. It would prove that the surest way to be- 
 come holy and perfect, is to be a consistent Churchman. I mourn for Wins- 
 
 'l^ 
 
xlii 
 
 ness on his pleasant home, and take him from the 
 altars which it was his heart's desire to serve. 
 Slowly, but certainly, the insidious malady^ crept on. 
 Slowly, but certainly, its secret poison mixed itself 
 up with all the streams of life. Slowly, but cer- 
 tainly, did the vigour of a sound constitution, and 
 the accumulated strength of a youth of virtuous mo- 
 deration, yield to its advances. Like the shadow on 
 the dial, the death-cloud slowly passed before him ; 
 and he saw its progress, and he felt that soon the 
 hour-mark of his dissolution must be reached. Did 
 he shrink? Did he murmur? Did he repine? Bear 
 witness, you, who, with the assiduity of brothers, 
 have watched, night after night, beside his restless 
 couch. Bear witness, he, who, with a father's ten- 
 derness, not less than a physician's skill, waited on 
 
 low ; but I devoutly thank God, that He has allowed me to see in him a pattern 
 of what I ought to be. His conversation always made a deep impression upon 
 me. The firmness of his principles, the clearness of his views, the dignity of 
 his manner, and the strain of piety that pervaded his conversation, all com- 
 bined to render whatever he said impressive. I shall always remember our 
 last conversation together. Seldom has there been one so well prepared to die, 
 as he then appeared to be, I knew that I was in the presence of one soon to 
 leave the world, yet it brought no sad and gloomy feelings. For the cheerful, 
 the heavenly tone of his conversation, and his solemn and delightful views of 
 death, and his expressions of ' trembling hope,' made me feel as if I was in 
 the presence of one to whom death would be no calamity. Our grief is only 
 that we have lost him." 
 
 ' His disease was cancerous. 
 
xliii 
 
 all his sickness. Bear witness, they, who, with the 
 undying- love which burns in w^oman's breast, have 
 ministered to his necessities, wiped his cold brow, 
 moistened his fevered lips, and, when life's agony 
 was past, arrayed him for the grave. He never 
 repined. He never murmured. He never shrunk. 
 He knew in whom he had believed; and he knew 
 that, at His Cross, death was divested of his sting. 
 It was my painful office, w hen I returned from my 
 last Visitation, to tell him all the truth. He received 
 it with undisturbed serenity. He had thought that 
 it was so, but till then he was not sure. He had no 
 regret, but for the imperfection of his services, and 
 the sinfulness of his short life. He had no wish, but 
 that God would prepare him for the hour. He would 
 say, if he were but sure of that, "Even so, Lord 
 Jesus, come quickly!" This was much for a young 
 man to say, wnth his foot upon the upward path, that 
 leads to life's most elevated and enchanting prospects. 
 This was much for a young man to say, in the midst 
 of an admiring circle, and in the enjoyment of the 
 fondest love of father, sisters,^ friends. This was 
 
 'Nothing could be more delightful than his correspondence with his three 
 sisters. To one of them he writes, "JVew York, Jipril 18th, 1836. — I am de- 
 lighted to hear that you have been reading sermons by some of the distinguished 
 divines of the good old Church of England. You could not do any thing bet- 
 ter. I rejoice, too, in your growth in grace, and in your firm attachment to the 
 Church. There alone, my dear sister, can we find a refuge from the indiffer- 
 
xliv 
 
 much for a young- man to say, with the dearest object 
 of his earthly love beside him, not yet one year a 
 
 ence and scepticism of Unitarianism, and the fanaticism and follies of Calvin- 
 ism. Continue to love and revere her time-hallowed institutions, walk in her 
 ways, breathe her prayers, and keep her precepts, which are all based on the 
 Gospel; and she will indeed be to you the ark of Christ's Church, to waft you 
 
 to the haven of eternal rest. Does take an interest in religious matters'? 
 
 Does she continue true to the Church"! Write to her upon the subject some- 
 times, and tell me what she says. I should do it myself; but I know that a 
 sistei' keeps the key of a sister^ s heart J" 
 
 And again, '■'JVexv York, J\Iay 2, 1836 : I long to see . What a joyous 
 
 meeting we shall have! I trust, my dear , that we shall always be united, 
 
 as a family, in the bonds of the closest affection. I have seen brothers and sis- 
 ters strangely and sadly disunited. Let it never be so with us ! Let the lips 
 taught in infancy, by the same mother, to lisp words of love, never be opened 
 to give utterance to any other : so that, whether present or absent, in life or in 
 death, we may be one. And may none of those new ties, which it is right and 
 proper that we should form, estrange us from the early attachments which were 
 the first gushings forth of young hearts, full of pure and warm affection." 
 
 And again, "Ge?iera/ Theological Seminary, JVew York, JMarch 16th, 1837: 
 What a mild winter we have had ! And now spring is coming on most glori- 
 ously. It is a delightful, beautiful day. My very heart is singing for joy; so 
 many bright sun-beams have found their way there. Do you not love the 
 spring, dear ] And remember, that probably the birds and green leaves and 
 flowers will bring us all together again ! And this thought it is which makes 
 the spring so very pleasant now. I am in most glorious health ; for which I 
 hope I may he deeply grateful to Him in whose hands are sickness and health, 
 all our times, and all our ways. And moreover I feel perfectly contented with 
 and at the Seminary now. Not that I like it so very much, either. But I think 
 I was very wrong in giving way to discontent last year. Wherever he is, 
 with whatever he has, a true Christian is always contented : because he 
 Knows who it is that orders all things, and that all things work together for the 
 good of those who love God supremely. Wherever he is. he knows that he has 
 
xlv 
 
 bride. This was much for a young man to say, 
 with an infant of a month upon his arm; and to 
 know that its fulfilment would leave that infant father- 
 
 an eternal home, and a changeless friend, and so he must be happy. I think 
 that whenever we find ourselves discontented, we may safely conclude that our 
 hearts are not right with God ; that we have not that 'joy in the Holy Ghost,' 
 and that 'peace in believing' on the only Saviour, which all sincere disciples 
 of Christ do enjoy, according to his most blessed promise. I cannot hut con- 
 clude, then, that my great discontent with the Seminary, last year, was wrong ; 
 and, to use a harsher term, sinful. And yet, I have not changed in the least 
 in my feelings of strong affection for ' Old Harvard,' and the many dear friends 
 who became my friends in that peaceful and happy abode." 
 
 And again, under a severe domestic trial, ^'General Theological Seminary, 
 JVeiv York, Jipril 4th, 1837. This is a day which cannot fail to fill us all 
 with sad, yet salutary, reminiscences. It is the atmiversary of our dear Mother's 
 death. She is at rest with the dead blessed in the Lord, and free from the sore 
 afflictions which God, in his love, has brought upon us. Let us all try, dear 
 
 , to be ready, as she was ready, that we may one day enter, with her, ' into 
 
 the joy of our Lord.' * * * * He never is so ready to take care of us as when 
 we cast all our care upon him. You know, too, that our blessed Saviour was 
 once ' tempted in all points like as we are.' He was afflicted, and spoken 
 against, and had not where to lay his head. In heaven, he is still moved with 
 compassion for our infirmities, and sorrows ; for he perfectly knows their bitter- 
 ness. And bitter they are, indeed. Go to Him, then. Cairy them all before 
 Him. And pray that He will bless this afflictive stroke to the good of us all, 
 and that He will take care of us all. We are often told, dear , that afflic- 
 tions are sent us in kindness and love, to bring us nearer God. So we must be- 
 lieve. We must thunk our heavenly Father that he has not given us up to the 
 dangerous temptations of prosperity. We must try to say from the heart — 
 God's grace alone can enable us — 'though he slay me, yet will I trust in Him.' 
 Be of good cheer. All this will come out right. And the time will come, when we 
 shall praise God for this dark event. I am afraid that I shall not succeed in giv- 
 ing that consolation which I would fain impart. I doubt not that you have 
 found it where alone it can be had. Only go there. Do not rest u{)on any 
 
xlvi 
 
 less, and that wife a widow. But he said it ; and he 
 said it with the calmness and serenity of an old 
 saint : not that he loved them less, hut that he loved 
 Jesus more. 
 
 For many weeks, he had been setting all his 
 house in order. Not an interest, however small, 
 that could be affected by his death, that he had not 
 provided for. Still, he pursued his favorite studies 
 with alacrity. He was as devoted to his Greek Tes- 
 tament, and to his Hebrew Bible, as if he expected 
 to have use for them, yet forty years. ^ For seven 
 weeks, he had watchers every night; and uniformly 
 did they declare the hours so spent among the hap- 
 piest of their life. Among them, was the friend of 
 his youth, who had baptized him, and admitted him 
 first to the Holy Communion, the Rev. IVTr. Cros- 
 well,^ who came from Boston, especially to see him. 
 
 earthly hopes. God requires our supreme affection. If it were not thus some- 
 times roughly removed from the things of earth, it would cling to them until it 
 partook of earthly corruption, and perished." 
 
 As before, so in this instance, his faith was prophetic. According to his 
 comfortable assurance to his sister, so it was. The beloved one, for whom their 
 hearts were wrung, was delivered from all his enemies. He made his " right- 
 eousness as clear as the light," and his "just dealing as the noon-day." 
 
 ' To his friend Ogilby, he said, "Why not improve the mind? It is im- 
 mortal." 
 
 2 The following is an extract of a recent letter from this dear friend, who 
 knew him as few knew him, and loved him as they did who know him, best: 
 
 " My dear Bishop, and Brother, 
 
 I have delayed writing until I could hear all. I have read your 
 
xlvii 
 
 "It was a memorable night," he writes, "that I 
 spent with him, on the 14th of October. God for- 
 
 several touching letters to myself and others, many times over. I have also 
 communicated with the living witnesses of Winslow's death. I have wept 
 alone, in my chamber, and with those that wept; and 'weep the more, be- 
 cause we weep in vain.' I know not how to express to you my sense of this 
 common and irreparable loss. But I bless God's holy name, for this signal 
 instance of another triumph of faith ; for an example so harmonious, con- 
 sistent, and symmetrical, so instinct with the very beauty of holiness, up to that 
 crowning hour, which sealed his admission among the number of those who 
 ' came out of great tribulation, and have washed their robes and made them 
 white in the blood of the Lamb.' How blessed to witness such a death ! How 
 blessed to die amid such ministers of consolation, and under the eye of so af- 
 fectionate and faithful 'a chronicler as Griffith!' Your obituary in the 
 ' Banner of the Cross,' filled my eyes and heart. Prescott is here, and 
 knows as well as I, how true it is to the letter. I would we could have been 
 of that weeping congregation, who made an ' Abel Mizraim ' of the Church, on 
 Sunday afternoon. Where is another youth of five-and-twenty of whom so 
 much could be said without exaggeration? Where shall we find the same do- 
 cile spirit, so subdued to every requirement of ecclesiastical discipline, so rich 
 and ripe in every attainment, not only of theological learning, but of the divinest 
 graces'? Where another model, in which so much was embodied of the best 
 and golden ages of the Church ! Alas! we look in vain. 
 ' Chosen spirit was this of the finest elements tempered 
 And embodied on earth in mortality's purest texture ; 
 But in the morning of hope, in the blossom of virtue and genius, 
 He was cut down by death. What then 1 Were it wise to lament him, 
 Seeing the mind bears with it its wealth, and the soul, its aflections? 
 What we sow, we shall reap ; and the seeds whereof earth was not worthy 
 Strike their roots in a kindlier soil, and ripen to harvest.' 
 " I am glad to hear that you propose to undertake his memoir. It will be a 
 precious legacy to the Chur:h ; and for her sake and his own, it should be 
 known, and engraven as with lead upon the rock forever, that the peculiar 
 
xlviii 
 
 bid that I ever should forget it. In the dead of 
 night, while his lamp burned dim, he had songs 
 upon his bed; and recited those beautiful stanzas, 
 suggested to sooth his restlessness, by the Oriental 
 sentiment, 'This also shall pass away.'^ I took 
 them down at his mouth, and shall cherish them 
 always as his cycnean^ strain : 
 
 ' Death darkens his eye, and unplumes his wings, 
 ' And his sweetest song is the last he sings.' " 
 
 It proved so. The poetic talent, which before his 
 ordination he had exercised to the delight and ad- 
 miration of the Church, he sacredly repressed, upon 
 his entrance to the holy office. But in his latest 
 days, the fire that he had kept from fiaming, burned 
 
 principles and precious convictions which he so fondly cherished in health, 
 were his support and comfort in sickness, and shed a blessed light in the valley 
 of the shadow of death. I have often looked over his poetical remains, s 
 carefully preserved by his devoted aunts, who so wonderfully bear up under 
 this distressing bereavement. Some of them are of singular beauty, and one, 
 to the memory of his classmate, Hoffman, mutatis mutandis, is but an epitaph 
 upon himself.'' 
 
 ■ An Eastern sage, being requested by his sovereign, to furnish a motto for a 
 signet ring, which would be suitable alike for prosperity and adversity, wrote 
 these words — " this also shall pass awat." 
 
 2 Cotton, writing to his friend Izaak Walton, of holy George Herbert, has the 
 same sentiment ; 
 
 "Where, with a soul composed of harmonies. 
 
 Like a sweet swan, he warbles, as he dies. 
 
 His Maker's praise, and his own obsequies." 
 It was well and truly said of Winslow, by one who knew him well, " Thy life 
 has been one well-tuned psalm?" 
 
xlix 
 
 within him, and burst forth, in these delightful lines 
 — the very transcript of his faithful, peaceful, hopeful 
 spirit. 
 
 When morning sunbeams round me shed 
 
 Their light and influence blest ; 
 When flowery paths before me spread, 
 
 And life in smiles is drest: 
 In darkling lines, that dim each ray, 
 I read, " this too shall pass away." 
 
 When murky clouds o'erhang the sky 
 
 Far down the veil of years, 
 And vainly looks the tearful eye, 
 
 Where not a hope appears : 
 Lo ! characters of glory play, 
 'Mid shades — "this too shall pass away." 
 
 Blest words, that temper pleasure's beam, 
 
 And lighten sorrow's gloom ; 
 That early sadden youth's bright dream, 
 
 And cheer the old man's tomb ; 
 Unto that world be ye my stay — 
 The world which shall not pass away. 
 
 I was much with him, from the early part of this 
 month, when I returned home, until his latest breath. 
 He was always the same. He deeply felt, and feel- 
 ingly bewailed, the sinfulness both of his nature, and 
 of his practice ; and he clung to the bleeding Cross, 
 as his only and sufficient rescue. "As I now look 
 back on my short life," he would say, "all seems to 
 be sinful." He was of the tenderest conscience that 
 I ever knew. Often he said, that he was almost 
 afraid that the composure of his confidence would 
 
1 
 
 fail him at the last; but this, he said, he knew, was 
 a temptation; and that He in whom he trusted would 
 give him strength according to his day. ^ He attained 
 to no raptures. He spoke of no triumph of his own. 
 He professed no positive assurance of acceptance, as 
 personally and specifically sealed to him, other than 
 in the sacraments and offices of the Church. He 
 
 • These, by Mr. Newman, from the "Lyra Apostolica," were favourite Unes 
 with him. They were the last which he recited; and they well express the 
 habitual repose of his last illness. 
 
 '* Unto the godly there ariseth up light in the darkness." 
 
 Lead, kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom, 
 
 Lead thou me on ! 
 The night is dark, and I am far from home — 
 
 Lead thou nie on ! 
 Keep thou my feet ; I do not ask to see 
 The distant scene, — one step enough for me. 
 
 I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou 
 
 Shouldst lead me on. 
 I loved to choose and see my path : but now, 
 
 Lead Thou me on ! 
 I loved the garish day, and spite of fears, 
 Pride ruled my will: remember not past years ! 
 So long thy power hath blest me, sure it still 
 
 Will lead me on, 
 
 V 
 
 O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till 
 
 The night is gone ; 
 And with the morn those angel faces smile 
 Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile. 
 
 The prospect of meeting with his mother, was among the anticipations on 
 which he loved to dwell. 
 
li 
 
 had "not so learned Christ." He saw no warrant 
 for such an expectation in the Holy Scripture. It 
 was enough for him to know, that the Son of God 
 had "tasted death for every man;" and that "he 
 that belie veth in him shall not perish, but have ever- 
 lasting life." He saw too little that was not sin in 
 the whole course of his past life, to attach any im- 
 portance to the whisperings of a deceitful heart ; or 
 to look to himself, or any thing of or in himself, for 
 comfort or reliance. He was content to lie down 
 humbly, at the foot of the Cross; and to look up, as 
 'a weaned child, to Him who died for sinners, and 
 who speaketh peace and pardon to every contrite 
 heart. " Oh, how I have felt," said he, a very short 
 time before his death, "during these last few days, 
 the vanity of a death-bed repentance. In my pre- 
 sent agony of body and. distress of mind, I cannot 
 seek God, but can only rest on him.^^ Beautiful dis- 
 tinction ! Blessed to him, who sought Him early, and 
 had sought Him always, and had Him not now to 
 seek ! Awful to them, who have put off their search 
 of Him, till anguish of body and confusion of mind 
 discourage even the attempt! On the second day 
 before his death, as I entered the room, he said, " my 
 flesh and my heart fail me." I added, "but God is 
 the strength of my heart, and my portion forever." 
 He replied, "I trust so." He whispered to me his 
 
Hi 
 
 strong desire to receive "the blessed Communion/' 
 as he called it; and proposed the afternoon. But 
 when the time came, he was unable, from the pecu- 
 liar nature of his disease. He then expressed his 
 gratitude, that he had received it within a month. 
 On the day before he died, he was so much revived 
 that he could hear me read a little, and joined with 
 me most fervently in the Lord's Prayer ; adding to 
 the other portions of the Visitation Service, which I 
 read, his loud " Amen." After this, he sunk again, 
 till the night before his death. 
 
 It was my privilege — and so I shall esteem it' 
 whilst I live — to spend the last hours of his life with 
 him; watching by his bed-side, with her, to whom, 
 with so many other blessings, I am in debt for this, 
 that she brought us first together.^ For three days 
 and three nights, he had retained no sustenance, and 
 never for one moment lost himself in sleep; being 
 worn and harassed through that whole period with 
 the most distressing symptoms of dissolution. But, 
 as to the blessed Lord, so to his suffering servant, 
 in his last agony, angels seemed to minister. While 
 we stood by him^ his painful symptoms gradually 
 subsided, and he fell asleep. The brief oblivion 
 of ten minutes refreshed him for the victory. He 
 
 ' His mother was an elder sister of Mrs. Doane. 
 
 *• 
 
liii 
 
 awoke, comparatively bright and fresh; and ex- 
 pressed the possibility, though not the desire, of see- 
 ing another day. Soon, however, he began to sink, 
 and spoke of an entire prostration of his strength. 
 We saw that his time had come, and called for those 
 whom he had desired to be with him, at the last. 
 While this w^as done, as he lay serene and still, he 
 calmly raised his right hand, then as cold as monu- 
 mental marble, and traced on his brow, as cold, the 
 sign of the blessed Cross. I understood the omen. 
 He was retracing his baptismal sign. He was re- 
 newing his baptismal dedication. He was profess- 
 ing the Crucified, once more before the world. He 
 was sealing himself for the sepulchre. He said no 
 word ; but all his countenance w^as peaceful, as if no 
 trace of sickness or of death were on him. Immedi- 
 ately, I pronounced over him the Commendatory Ben- 
 ediction, ''Unto God's gracious mercy and protection 
 we commit thee. The Lord bless thee and keep 
 thee. The Lord make his face to shine upon thee, 
 and be gracious unto thee. The Lord lift up his 
 countenance upon thee, and give thee peace." He 
 said distinctly, "Amen." I added, "Behold the 
 Lamb of God, who taketh away the sin of the w^orld." 
 He turned his eyes to heaven, and pointed to him, 
 throned upon the clouds of glory. This was his 
 latest gesture. Shortly after, when I said to him, in 
 
 ^ 
 
liv 
 
 the words of the Visitation service, "The Almighty 
 Lord, who is a most strong tower to all those who 
 put their trust in him, be now and evermore thy 
 defence," &c. — supposing that 1 designed by this to 
 quiet any apprehensions of the struggle, he simply 
 said, "I am calm ; I have hope in Christ; but I am 
 very weak." After this, he gradually sunk away; 
 and at ten minutes before five, on Thursday morn- 
 ing, November 21, breathed his life out, as an infant 
 falls asleep, upon his mother's bosom — so quietly 
 that none of us could tell which was his latest 
 breath. As I left that chamber of decay, and went 
 out into the clear morning air — the wild November 
 wind howling across my path, and whirling the dry 
 leaves; the ground spread with its thinnest, scan- 
 tiest, coldest covering of snow; the full moon, shining 
 in all the glory of its first creation, and beaming back 
 again from the clear bosom of our beautiful river — I 
 felt how perfect the reflection was of the transition 
 which had taken place within. I felt how cold, and 
 bleak, and cheerless, nature is; while grace and 
 Heaven are clear, and bright, and beautiful. I re- 
 membered, that while "all flesh is grass, and all the 
 glory thereof as the flower of grass;" "the word of 
 our God," and "he that doeth the will of God," 
 "abideth forever." 
 
 Thus died, as he had lived, "having the testimony 
 
Iv 
 
 of a good conscience, in the communion of the Catho- 
 lic Church, in the confidence of a certain faith, in 
 the comfort of a reasonable, religious, and holy hope, 
 in favour with God," as we may well believe, "and 
 in perfect charity with the world," a young man of 
 the brightest promise I have ever known. Nor only 
 that ; for that, if it were all, were very little. But of 
 all that I have ever known, there has not been a 
 holier and more charitable man, a more consistent 
 Christian, a more intelligent, devoted and uncom- 
 promising Churchman, a more faithful, conscientious 
 and self-sacrificing preacher of the Cross. Though 
 young in years, he was advanced in wisdom, and in 
 knowledge, and in every Christian grace. He was 
 uniform and consistent in all things ; because he went 
 by the principles of the Gospel of Christ. He was a 
 Churchman of the best days of the Church . ^ He lived 
 in the communion of Hooker, and Ken, and Andrews,^ 
 and Jebb, and Rose ; and he is now enjoying their 
 society, and singing, as Izaak Walton said of Herbert, 
 hymns and anthems, with the angels, and him, and 
 
 ' In the last letter which he dictated, he says to one of his very dearest friends, 
 "I can assure you that paiu and sickness have not shaken my attachment to 
 Catholic principles. I have found our holy Mother a true comforter under my 
 trials: and can tjuly say, with Herbert, ' there are no prayers like hers.' " 
 
 *The last book for which he sent to my Library, in the very last week of 
 his life, was Bishop Andrews' Private Devotions ; and, but two days before his 
 death, he spoke of it with great delight. 
 
Ivi 
 
 Mr. Ferrar, in heaven. He had framed himself, 
 through grace, into a habit of ancient holiness. And 
 he had attained this, with divine aid, by the contem- 
 plation and adoption of the primitive devotion, and 
 discipline. He fasted carefully at the seasons which 
 the Church hath recommended to her members : 
 never wearing a sad countenance meanwhile, nor 
 condemning any who had " not so learned Christ." 
 He studied the Holy Scriptures with daily and in- 
 creasing delight. The Psalter, he had so arranged, 
 that it was read through once in every week. And he 
 had, for his own use, an order of devotion for the 
 seven canonical hours, in each day, according to the 
 ancient practice. Yet of all this, no one knew but 
 his own household friends, and they by their own 
 observation. He longed for the revival of the daily 
 service, and weekly communion ; and sometimes said, 
 he hoped to live to see it.^ He rejoiced at what seemed 
 to him, as to most thoughtful Churchmen, a revival 
 of the elder spirit of holiness and piety, in the Church 
 of England, and its extension among us. In one 
 word, he was a true Catholic^ Churchman, in his 
 
 LIFE, AND IN HIS DEATH. 
 
 ' He did live to see the daily service established at St. Mary's Hall ; and to 
 hear in his sick room the daily chants. 
 
 - This expression is not used without a clear and full perception of the com- 
 mon perversion of it. Indeed, it is here expressly used to meet and counteract 
 this most unwarrantable abuse. Mr, Winslow was a ('atholic Churchman, in 
 
Ivii 
 
 I cannot now conclude the subject, as I at first 
 proposed, by tracing the beautiful outline of his 
 
 equal contradistinction to the Papist and the Puritan. He had acquainted 
 himself with both. It was the catholic system, sar»i/i^ him, in Christ, y)'on» 
 either error, in which he lived and in which he died ; and of whose training, he 
 approved himself, through grace, so beautiful a specimen. Few men have had 
 experience so critical of the dangerous influence of Popery. Never has there 
 been exhibited a clearer demonstration, than in his case, of the effectual re- 
 sistance OF THE CATHOLIC SYSTEM to its most winning blandishments. A piece 
 of private history, as interesting as it is instructive, will perfectly establish, 
 while it well illustrates, this statement. 
 
 It was during his residence at the University, that the Romish convent at 
 Charlestown was destroyed, by an outrageous act of lawless violence. Win- 
 slow was a young man of an enthusiastic, not only, but highly excitable, tem- 
 perament. He felt most strongly the indignation, which that deed enkindled in 
 every generous breast. What he felt deeply, he was wont to express warmly. 
 In some such way, his feelings were enlisted on the side of Rome. A young 
 man of " mark and likelihood," his case attracted the notice of the clergy of 
 that communion, in Boston. One thing led to another, until he found himself 
 admitted to, what seemed, their fullest confidence. Books were put into his 
 hands. The enticing arts, which none know better how to use, were sedulously 
 applied. His very position, as a leader among the young Churchmen of the 
 University, when neither his years nor his acquirements had enabled him to 
 know, much less to give, a reason of the hope that was in him, increased his 
 exposure. With just enough acquaintance with the Church to feel a reverence 
 for antiquity, and a disposition to be governed by authority; he had made but 
 little progress in that search of Holy Scripture, and of ancient authors, by which 
 alone the Christian can be guarded against the countless forms of error — more 
 dangerous, in proportion as they seem the more to assimilate themselves to 
 truth. The result of such a state of things was natural and obvious. A young 
 man of less than twenty, his spirit all alive to classical and chivalrous associa- 
 tions, thrown off his guard by the stirring up of all his deepest impulses, think- 
 H 
 
Iviii 
 
 character, by whose new grave I stand ; and pointing 
 out the source from which its graces all proceeded, 
 
 ing himself to be somewhat, as a Churchman, in close and constant conference 
 
 with a Romish Bishop and his Priests ! Who could hesitate as to the issue ? Of 
 
 all this, I was in perfect ignorance; when I received from him the following 
 
 letter : 
 
 "Harvard University, Feb'y, 23, 1835. 
 My dear Uncle, 
 
 The contents of the following letter, will undoubtedly give you both 
 surprise and pain ; but duty to myself, to you and to God, compel me to make 
 this disclosure. The only thing for which I lament is, that I did not write you 
 my doubts and difficulties six weeks ago; and then I might have been rescued 
 from what you will consider a great error. To be brief, / am all but converted 
 to the faith of the Roman Catholic Church; and unless I am to be reclaimed, I 
 must in the course of a few weeks openly join her communion. My affections, 
 my sympathies, are all with the Protestant Episcopal Church ; but my judgment 
 is almost convinced that she is in a state of schism. But you will naturally 
 enough enquire, how did this come about? Ever since the destruction of the 
 convent at Charlestown, my attention has been directed to the faith of the 
 [Roman] Catholic Church. I have perused the works of several of her best 
 champions; and have had long conversations with Bishop Fenwick, of Boston, 
 and another Roman Catholic Clergyman. Not that I would give you to un- 
 derstand that my investigations have been of an ex parte nature; I have also 
 studied the ablest Protestant authors : and yet, the result is, that I am nearly if 
 not quite convinced that the Church of Rome is the only Church of Christ. 
 
 It is not my design, in writing these lines, to enter into a full relation of the 
 various reasons which have led me to such conclusions ; suffice it to say, that 
 my present views seem to my mind to be the Church theory of our own Church, 
 carried out to its legitimate result. I have always believed that Christ is not 
 divided — that there should be but one fold, as there is one Shepherd — that our 
 Lord had promised to be with his visible Church, to the end of the world — that 
 His Church should be guided into all truth, and be the pillar and ground of the 
 truth, because he was to be with it all days. Now these are truths, as I hum- 
 bly think, which are so firmly founded in Scripture, antiquity, reason and com- 
 mon sense, that they cannot be overthrown. But if these views be true, the 
 Church of Rome, as it appears to me, is the only true Church. Where was 
 our Church, before the (so called) Reformation?' Did she not separate from the 
 
 ' See this question ably treated in Dr. Hook's Sermon, " Hear the Church." 
 
 G. W. D. 
 
I IX 
 
 and the means by which they were attained. I have 
 been wonderfully and unexpectedly supported : but 
 
 Catholic Church at that tiiuel If she be the true Church, then Christ deserted 
 his Church, and was false to his promise of being with her all daysi There 
 certainly cannot be two true Churches so at variance as Rome and England, 
 If Rome be right, England must be wrong. If Rome be wrong, then our views 
 of the Church must be erroneous. Such is my dilemma. And I cannot see any 
 better alternative than that of returning to the Mother Church. 
 
 No dissenter can possibly meet my objections. Churchmen, and Cliurclimen 
 alone, can understand my peculiar difficulties. I would therefore beg you, my 
 dear uncle, if you should have time, to recommend any work which will meet 
 my case; and also give me any light, by which I may conscientiously remain in the 
 Protestant Episcopal Church — a Church which I have so much loved and 
 honoured. Excuse my troubling you with this letter. It is no less painful to 
 me than it can prove to you. But it is my duty, and duty must be done. 
 
 Very affectionately yours, 
 
 Benjamin Davis Winslow." 
 
 In a moment, I saw his position. I saw that to refer him to books, while Jesuit 
 expositors had his confidence, was vain. I saw that he was not accessible to 
 reason. I saw that to remain at Cambridge, was to rush, and that at once, into 
 the gulph that yawned for him. The image that possessed my mind at once, 
 and haunted it, by day and night, for weeks and months, and has not yet lost all 
 its vividness, was the poor bird, charmed by the rattle-snake, and shooting 
 with a desperate impulse into his sanguinary jaws. I resolved, if there was help 
 in God, to save him ; and, by the help of God, I did. I wrote to him briefly, but 
 peremptorily, to come at once to me. That the subject was of the utmost mo- 
 ment. That no correspondence at a distance could meet its requirements. 
 That it called for time and thought, and careful study of authorities, without 
 the bias of an overruling influence on either side. That Burlington was a calm, 
 sequestered place. That my books were at his service. That he should investi- 
 gate thesubject thoroughly. That he should follow implicitly, wherever that 
 investigation, guided by the promised Holy One, should lead. If it led to 
 Rome, he should go. If, convinced himself, he could convince me, I would go 
 with him. If conviction failed, his place was where the providenee of God had 
 
Ix 
 
 the flesh is weak, and nature will assert its way. 
 Nor is it needful now to do so. Who does not read it, 
 
 set him. I used no word of argument, and I referred to no authority against 
 the Romish claim : for I felt sure, that they who had so far secured him, would 
 have access to my letters. I told him to go at once to the President. To say 
 that I had need for him ; and that he must rely on my character that the occa- 
 sion was sufficient, without a statement of the reasons. He went to the Presi- 
 dent. At first, he refused permission. Then he sent for him, and told him, that 
 on further consideration, he felt assured my reasons must be good; and granted 
 leave of absence. As I had anticipated, so it was. My letter was shown to his 
 seducers. Every argument, that Romish craft could suggest, was used, to pre- 
 vent, or to delay, his coming. One of them was going on soon, and would ac- 
 company him. If he went, he must take letters to the communion in Philadel- 
 phia. At least, he must take books. But it was all in vain. The principle of 
 loyalty was in him more strongly than in any man I ever knew; and knowing 
 that his allegiance was to me, to me he came. 
 
 Never shall I forget the day of his arrival, nor the peculiar expression with 
 which he came to me. I saw that he was wrought up to the highest pitch, 
 and that the first thing for him was to rest. Day after day he sought to engage 
 me in the topic, and day after day I avoided it. At last, when he became soli- 
 citous to hear my views, I told him, no ; he was to make out his own case. 
 I gave him then, on a small slip of paper — I have it now — a single point' in 
 the great controversy between the Truth and Rome; and told him to go into 
 my Library, and satisfy himself : when that was mastered, he should have the 
 next. He spent five weeks with me, I never dictated to him even the shadow 
 of an opinion. He traced the truth up to its first fountains. He looked for 
 
 ' It was this : — The Papal Suprkmacy ; 
 
 i. Can the primary of Peter in authority and power be established? 
 ii. If established, can it be shown that it was to be transmitted 1 
 iii. If designed to be transmitted, can it be proved to appertain to the Dishop 
 of Rome? 
 
 The appeal to be, 1, to Scripture; 2, to ancient authors. 
 
Ixi 
 
 in the assemblage here, of such a congregation, upon 
 such a day ? Who does not feel the power of Chris- 
 
 Popery in Holy Scripture and ancient authors ; and it was not there. He per- 
 fectly satisfied himself that the claims of Rome were arrogant and unfounded. 
 He settled perfectly in the conviction, that the Church of his choice was a true 
 and living branch of the Catholic Church of Christ. And he went forward, 
 from that moment, increasing in wisdom and in stature, through the grace of 
 her communion ; and growing in knowledge and in virtue, by the wholesome 
 nutriment of her divine instructions. Never did he cease to rejoice, that He 
 had taken him from the mire and clay, and set his feet upon a rock, and ordered 
 his goings. Never did he speak of that eventful moment of his life, but with 
 devoutest gratitude to Him, who had delivered him from\he snare of the fowler. 
 I have put this narrative on record here, as part of the true history of the 
 lamented subject of this memoir, on the one hand, that it may correct their 
 error, who underrate the dangerous attraction of the Church of Rome; and on 
 the other, that it may reprove their calumny, who connect the teachings of the 
 Catholic Church of Christ with the corruptions of the Papal schism. Multi- 
 tudes lie wiihin reach of the danger, by which Winslow was beset. The 
 searching spirit of inquiry into old foundations, which is now abroad, if rudely 
 checked, or wrongly guided, infinitely increases their danger. Meanwhile, 
 Rome lies her wily wait. Is there one for whom Antiquity presents its just 
 attractions? Rome is ready, with her claim of primitive antiquity. Is Unity 
 relied on 1 Rome presents her claim of perfect unity. Are the associations of 
 taste, and the sympathies of nature, and the refinements of art, seductive 1 
 Rome is skilful to combine them all, and make them ^most seducing. Now, 
 false and groundless as the pretensions are to antiquity' and unity, on her part ; 
 and ineffectual as is her utmost use of all "appliances, and means, to boot," to 
 hide the mass of error and corruption, which festers at her heart, it is not the 
 bare denial of her claims, far less vituperation and abuse, that will restrain the 
 
 ' See Dr. Hook's sermon, '• The Novelties of Romanism ;" and Mr. New- 
 man's " Lectures on the Prophetical office of the Church, viewed relatively to 
 Romanism and Popular Protestantism." 
 
Ixii 
 
 tian zeal and integrity — and let me add, the magnan- 
 imity of Christian love — which has drawn around 
 
 tide, when once it strongly sets towards Rome. Unless there be the unques- 
 tionable argument of Holy Scripture, as interpreted by the consent of ancient 
 authors, her pretensions will prevail: and unless there be a system, palpable, 
 that men can grasp it; venerable, that men may reverence it; affectionate, 
 that men will feel it, and respond to it, and sympathize with it ; the 
 well compacted, well drilled, well directed, Romish system — hollow, as it 
 is, at heart, and hateful — will get the advantage. Man's heart is warm, 
 and cannot live with cold abstractions. Man's heart is social, and will not 
 dwell alone. Man's nature is dependent, and must lean on something. 
 Man's nature is religious, and must look up to that on which it leans. 
 The system which meets these necessities of our condition will be the prevail- 
 ing system. Rome would prevail, could it be shown that Rome alone could 
 meet them. It is incumbent on us, then, to show — which is the truth — that 
 men may have them all, without a pilgrimage to Rome : nay, that there, they 
 will not find them. Hence, the Catholic system : " its daily services, its fre- 
 quent communions, its weekly fasts, its holy anniversaries ;" " an attempt to 
 realize heaven upon earth, (o make God all in all, to bind men together by the 
 ties of Christian brotherhood, to promote those tempers of childlike submission, 
 and humility, and unselfishness, which no believer in divine Revelation doubts 
 to be the distinctive feature in the Evangelical character."' Hence the duty, in- 
 cumbent on the Church, to develop her full system ; that it may meet, to the full, 
 the natural wants of men. "She has ample powers at her command:" says 
 one whom I have just quoted, "why does she keep them back? Why does 
 she suffer mere human systems to usurp the empire over the heart? To take 
 advantage of those cravings of man's religious nature which must be satisfied ; 
 and which, if we will not give them wholesome food, will seek out for them- 
 selves the unwholesome? Man's inward nature longs (for instance) for frequent 
 opportunities for social prayer ; and the Church provides them in her daily 
 morning and evening services. We love to think that our friends are engaged 
 
 ' Preface to Oakley's Whitehall Sermons, p. ix. 
 
Ixiii 
 
 our altars the multitude of those who worship not 
 with us, to pour out their hearts with ours, and min- 
 gle tears with us ? 
 
 And, now, before we leave him in his peaceful 
 grave, let us resolve, beloved brethren, to leave beside 
 it whatever may be in our hearts, that would disturb 
 his gentle spirit. Let us resolve, hereafter, to study, 
 as he studied, the pure word of God ; to betake our- 
 
 in prayer at the same time, and, if possible, in the very same words, with our- 
 selves. For this feeling, again, the Church provides a direct satisfaction. 
 When friends are elsewhere in the world, or have been taken out of the world, 
 we cannot bear to lose them from our thoughts ; and the Church consoles us 
 with her doctrine of the Communion of Saints. We recoil from solitude, yet 
 must often be alone; but though alone, the Church suffers us not to be lonely; 
 for she brings us into company with saints and angels. We are much influ- 
 enced by the power of association ; and the Church, accordingly, has her con- 
 secrated times and places. The Holy Communion is another provision for the 
 wants of our spiritual nature. The occasional services (again) both elicit and 
 sanctify the purest affections of our hearts. What, then, is this charge of apa- 
 thy ] Where else is there such an opportunity, as the Church Catholic 
 offers, for the development of those affections (the only affections worth develop- 
 ing) which we shall carry with us beyond the world."' 
 
 But I must check myself; for I have entered on a theme to fill a volume. 
 Enough, if what I have, rather hinted at, than said, shall move Churchmen to 
 a better estimate of the high privileges which they enjoy, as "fellow citizens with 
 the saints, and of the household of God." 
 
 " Fortunati, si sua bona norint." 
 Enough, if I shall arrest but one, whose face is turned towards that " city of 
 
 ' Oakley's Whitehall Sermon, Preface, pp. xl, xlii. 
 
Ixiv 
 
 selves, as he betook himself, to the fountains of divine 
 grace, opened for us in the Church ; to give ourselves, 
 as he gave himself, habitually, to prayer ; to be fol- 
 lowers of him, as he was the follower of Christ. So, 
 "throuofh the orrave and orate of death," still "look- 
 ING UNTO Jesus," shall we pass, with him, " to our 
 joyful resurrection," through the blessed merits of 
 Him, ''who loved us, and washed us from our sins:" 
 to whom, with the Father and the Holy Spirit, be 
 ascribed all praise, dominion, power and glory, now 
 and forevermore. Amen. 
 
 shadows," and whose feetnow stumble "upon the dark mountains;" and lead 
 him, by the example of the sainted Winslow, to the light, and peace, and steadfast 
 trust, of that true city, which hath foundations — the type and pledge, on earth, 
 of "that great city, the holy Jerusalem," into which "there shall in no wise 
 enter "" any thing that defileth, neither whatsoever worketh abomination, or 
 maketh a lie." 
 
 " Mother of cities ! o'er thy head 
 
 Bright peace, with healing wings outspread, 
 Forevermore shall dwell : 
 
 Let me, blest seat! my name behold 
 
 Among thy citizens enrolled, 
 
 And bid the world, farewell !" 
 
APPENDIX: 
 
 I. THK rector's address, AT THE HOLY COMMljNION, IN ST. MARy's 
 
 CHURCH, ADVENT SUNDAY, M DCCC XXXIX ; 
 
 II. OBITUARY NOTICE, FROM THE BURLINGTON GAZETTE ; 
 
 III. THE rector's CHRISTMAS PASTORAL, TO THE PARISHIONERS 
 
 OF ST. MARy's church. 
 
Remeniber'them which have the rule over you, 
 
 who have spoken unto you the word of God ; 
 
 whose faith follow, 
 
 considering the end of their conversation, 
 
 JESUS CHRIST, 
 
 THE SAME TESTEllDAT, AND TO-DAY, A!SD FOU EVER. 
 
Beloved brethren, I have but few words to say to you to-day ; and 
 I need say but kw. If there be required an argument nnore powerful 
 to convince you of sin, an eloquence more attractive fo draw you to 
 the Saviour, than these memorials of his dying love, I cannot furnish 
 it. And, if there be needed a more cogent application of the subject 
 to each particular conscience, a warning more impressive to every 
 individual man, to lay it to his heart, than speaks from out that new 
 made grave, I cannot utter it. 
 
 We see the broken bread. We see the wine poured out. What 
 mean we by this service? Are there ten thousand altars now so 
 spread for an unmeaning rite? x\re holy men, in every Christian 
 land, engaged in a mere childish ceremonial? Are myriads of 
 myriads of devout and penitential worshippers prostrate before an 
 idle and unprofitable pageant? Has the observance of a vain and 
 worthless institution been perpetuated, through eighteen ages, without 
 a moment's interruption? Did the divine and holy Saviour occupy 
 the latest moments of his precious life with a mere form of words : 
 and say to his Apostles, and, through them, to all that should believe 
 on him, in every age, " this do in remembrance of me," of something 
 that men might do, or might not do, at their mere pleasure — no better 
 and no happier for doing it, and for not doing it no worse in conduct or 
 condition? Beloved brethren, judge for yourselves, if the scriptural 
 ordinance of the Lord's Supper mean nothing, or mean more than 
 words can utter. Both, it cannot. One or the other it must signify. 
 And oh ! remember, when the latest opportunity has passed away 
 from you, when the power of its observance shall have ceased forever, 
 when worlds on worlds could not procure for you, if you would 
 freely give them, the physical ability to do that latest bidding of the 
 
Ixviii 
 
 Saviour, " take, eat, this is my body : do this in remembrance of 
 me" — if the conclusion then should be obtained, that it was vital to 
 the soul ; that that flesh was " meat indeed," and, that that blood 
 was " drink indeed ;" that, except a man " eat the flesh of the Son 
 of man, and drink his blood," he hath no life in him : imagine, if 
 you can, the agony of that self-wrought conviction. Weigh, if you 
 can, the load of that intolerable and yet inevitable remorse. And, 
 while there yet is time, flee to the Cross of Jesus, from the very 
 possibility of such a condemnation. 
 
 Two days before the spirit of our dear departed friend was set at 
 liberty from earth, he called me to him, sinking then, it seemed, into 
 the grave, with scarce a hope of life beyond the following night ; 
 and whispered to me, that he wished to receive once more " the 
 blessed Communion" — so he called it — before he died. I, of course, 
 assented, and the hour of four of that afternoon was appointed for 
 the service ; his parting injunction being — such were the distressing 
 symptoms of his case — that I should administer to him the smallest 
 possible quantity of either element. The hour of four found him 
 unable to accomplish his soul's last wish, and he died without another 
 opportunity. To him, great as the disappointment was, it brought 
 no sting of self reproach. Constantly, from Easter-day of 1832, 
 had he partaken of that spiritual manna. Never had he turned 
 unfeelingly away from that poor bruised body, and that dear blood, 
 poured cheaply out, like water, on the ground. Duly as it was 
 spread, he bowed, with penitential sorrow, and in a lively faith in 
 Christ, before the altar which commemorates his death. And he 
 has now gone to be with Him, whom he so loved, and strove to 
 serve, on earth : to be partaker of the banquet which is spread for- 
 ever new before the throne of God ; to drink forever of the glorious 
 beauty which is beaming from the face of Jesus Christ ; and to be 
 more and more partaker of the divine nature, and more and more 
 transformed into the likeness of His infinite perfections. 
 
Ixix. 
 
 Seldom, my beloved brethren, does it fall to any people's lot to 
 send before them to the rest of God so ripe a saint. Seldom does a 
 grave so eloquently speak of "Jesus and the resurrection," to believ- 
 ing hearts. Deep and awful the responsibility of such a death-bed, 
 not improved to deeper piety and loftier holiness. Sad the meeting, 
 when the trumpet shall be sounded, and the dead shall rise, with 
 him who " being dead, yet speaketh," if his warning voice be heard 
 in vain. Oh, how his gentle nature yearned to see so many of you 
 turn away from the memorials of the Saviour's agonizing death! 
 Oh, how it grieved his tender heart, to see so many that profess the 
 love of Jesus here, reflect so little of its glorious brightness in their 
 daily life! Oh, how his fervent spirit was rejoiced, when one and 
 another from among you — in holy baptism, in the laying on of 
 hands, or at the sacred supper — came from the world, to own the 
 Saviour before men ; and give yourselves, your souls and bodies to 
 his service, and his glory ! Oh, with what a smile of saintly satis- 
 faction, will he hasten to the golden gate of Paradise, to meet each 
 one of you, that, through the purchase of the blood-stained Cross, in 
 faith and penitence, shall find admission there! 
 
 Do you shrink back, appalled at such a thought, in the conviction 
 of your countless sins ? Never did weeping penitent lie down more 
 humbly at the feet of Jesus Christ, than he did; grieved and wearied 
 with the burden of his manifold transgressions, and looking for mer- 
 cy and acceptance only through the purchase of the Cross. " As I 
 look back upon my life in the clear light of this death-bed," he used 
 to say, " it seems to be all sin ; but I humbly hope in the redeeming 
 love of Him, who died for sinners." 
 
 Is any one, through the deceitfulness of his own heart, disposed 
 to rest in services or ordinances, or any thing that man has done, 
 or can do, as sufficient for salvation ? You all know the unreserved- 
 ness of his self devotion, the alacrity and constancy of his obedience, 
 the steady fervour of his piety, the broad and self-consuming flame 
 
Ixx. 
 
 of his unfailing charity. And yet, it was his chief jov to say, with 
 dying Richard Hooker, " not for my righteousness, but for the for- 
 giveness of my unrighteousness, through Jesus Christ our Lord." 
 
 Is any one, no matter through what defect of education or perver- 
 sity of will, habitually negligent of the ordinances of the Gospel, ha- 
 bitually careless of the privileges of the Church? Hear, how, to the 
 last, he looked, through ihem, to Jesus, as the "Author and the 
 Finisher" of his faith. Hear, how, to the last, he bore his clear un- 
 wavering testimony to the preciousness and power of that divine 
 system of faith and worship, in which his piety was nurtured ; and 
 asked, as the last wish of his fainting heart, that, whatever else might 
 be the portion of his orphan child, he might be brought to holy 
 baptism, and trained up in the Church. 
 
 Dear brethren, let not these solemn lessons, this instructive testi- 
 mony, this beautiful example, be m vain for you. Let not our over- 
 whelming loss be without corresponding gain. Let not the teachings 
 of his life, let not the witness of his death, be recorded in the book 
 that is laid up before the Lord, to increase your load of condemna- 
 tion. Let us imitate his lofty holiness. Let us emulate his cheer- 
 ful piety. Let us aspire to his unfaltering charity. Let us be dili- 
 gent, as he was, in the study of God's word ; earnest, as he was, in 
 the services of the Church ; instant, as he was, in the devotions of 
 the closet. So, through the same grace, shall we attain to the con- 
 sistency and steadfastness of his most exemplary life. So, through 
 the same grace, shall we enjoy the serenity and peacefulness of his 
 most comfortable death. So shall this present Advent be (he dawn 
 to us of a new life, the life of godliness on earth. And so, when 
 earth and all the things that are therein shall be burned up, shall we, 
 with him, rejoice forever in the Advent of the Son of man ; and 
 enter, with the train of them that make their calling sure, upon that 
 life of perfect glory and unmingled joy, which shall forever spring, 
 immortal in the heavens. 
 
Ixxi 
 
 <©t)(tuar2 iaottcf. 
 
 From the Burlington Gazette. 
 
 " Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints." 
 
 Died, at St. Mary's Cottage, Green Bank, Burlington, New Jer- 
 sf?v, on Thursday morning, November 21, the Rev. Benjamin Da- 
 vis VViNSLow, Assistant to the Rector of St. Mary's Church, in the 
 •25th year of his age. A more untimely death than this, as men 
 account of time, has seldom been recorded. But He who "doeth all 
 things well " hath put the times and the seasons in his own power: 
 and, since the blessed Son of God. when he became incarnate for our 
 sins, was contented not to know either the day or the hour, it be- 
 comes us reverently to submit ; assured that though we know not 
 now, we shall know hereafter. Another and a fuller opportunity 
 will be embraced to turn to their just account the eminent virtues of 
 this young saint. The present writer never knew a man whose 
 character could be adopted, to depict more clearly and more fully 
 THE TRUE Catholic Churchman, in his life, and in his death : 
 and to that pious duty, if it please God to give him time and strength, 
 he proposes to devote himself, as the best service he can render to 
 the Church, of which the beloved VVinslow, even at his years, was 
 a pillar and an ornament. For the present, let it suffice, with a 
 bleeding heart and a trembling hand, to twine around this polished 
 shaft in our sanctuary — fallen, indeed, yet matchless in its beauty — 
 a few funereal flowers, the tribute of true love to his beloved and 
 imperishable memory.' 
 
 ' "Another youn? soldier of the Church has lieen taken from its earthly ranks. 
 Another beautiful cedar of Lebanon lies prostrate ! The papers of last week 
 informed us of the death of the Rev. Mr. Winslow, of Burlington N. J., in the 
 twenty-fifth year of his age. In oflcring a short tribute to the memory of this 
 younu servant of God, we yield to the impulse of our own feelings, and to the 
 
Ixxii 
 
 Bknjamin Davis Winslow was born in the city of Boston, on 
 the 13th day of February, 1815. In him "the boy was" truly 
 
 promptings of a heart that loved the departed as a brother. Many biographical 
 notices of the beloved and gifted Winslow have already appeared, and with 
 tearful eyes have we traced their united testimony to his excellence and true 
 Christian worth. We believe that he deserved all that has been said of him ; 
 and now that he sleeps in the dust, we should like to see the fair picture of his 
 pure and pious life spread out for the imitation of the young and talented. 
 Long and intimate was our acquaintance with our departed brother. We re- 
 member him first, as a gentle, intelligent boy of seven years of age, with an eye 
 yet dim, and a heart yet sorrowing for the loss of an affectionate and pious 
 mother ; we remember with what touching sweetness he was wont to repeat, 
 even at that tender age, the ' address of Cowper to his mother's picture,' ap- 
 plying its graphic lines to his own case ; and well do we remember his conscien- 
 tious reverence for each wish and direction of his departed parent. Morning 
 and evening, his infant prayers ascended to God, not in a hurried, formal man- 
 ner, but with quietness, gravity and feeling. Twice in each day did he turn to 
 his Bible, and read a portion of its hallowed pages ; and, whatever else was ' left 
 undone," that duty was sacredly observed. Much of his early life was spent 
 in the country ; and the beauties of the natural world were not lost upon his 
 thoughtful and observing mind. One bright Sunday morning, when he was 
 about eight years old, he arose early, and after remaining a short time in his 
 room, brought to a friend some lines he had composed, descriptive of a Sunday 
 in the country. The precious boy had laboured to express in writing the 
 thoughts that filled his young heart; and mingling, in childish confusion, large 
 and small letters, script and printed, had actually prepared three verses of melo 
 dious poetry, — the peace, the beauty, the stillness of nature were described, and 
 the goodness of God in giving man a Sabbath of rest. We believe this to have 
 been our young friend's first effort to rvrite verse, although we know that he 
 ' lisped in numbers ' long before. A painful affection of his eyes in early life, 
 pervented for a time that close application to study which he himself most earn- 
 estly desired : but this circumstance which might by some be deemed a misfor- 
 tune, in his case lent increased vigour to his perceptive and reasoning faculties 
 
Ixxiii 
 
 «♦ father of the man " — inquisitive and thoughtful from his earliest 
 years. Though he lost his most affectionate and pious mother 
 when but six years old, her prayers for him were not lost. At six 
 teen, he sought admission to the Church of God, in holy baptism 
 on the full conviction of his mind and heart : and from that time de 
 voted himself, if God would accept the offering, to the sacred minis 
 try. His residence at the University in Cambridge, from 1831 to 
 1835, was not more distinguished by the rich and varied acquisi- 
 tions which he made, than for the influence which his vigorous mind 
 and attractiveness of manner, sustained by an unwavering love of 
 truth, dignified by religious principle, and adorned by a seraphic 
 piety, enabled him to exercise. A devoted Churchman, he was 
 at the same time the most popular of all the students, and the 
 highest in the confidence of the Faculty. The President but 
 lately said of him, that he was regarded always as the pillar of 
 the University. Such is the beauty and power of holiness. From 
 Cambridge he came to Burlington, where he was domesticated in 
 the family of the Bishop of New Jersey, to whom he was as a son. 
 From October, 1835, to June, 1837, he was a member of the Gen- 
 eral Theological Seminary. Of his standing there, it is enough to 
 use the language of a fellow student, who loved him living, and la- 
 
 and gave a singular maturity and richness to his thoughts. His memory was 
 wonderful ; and being surrounded by kind and intelligent friends, he was in the 
 habit of listening daily to many pages of instructive reading. His disposition 
 was very affectionate ; and kindness and love dwelt in his heart, and shed their 
 influence upon those around him. He never said aught against any one ; and, 
 ever ready to extenuate the faults of others, he was ' austere only to himself.' 
 From boyhood, his feelings were keenly alive to the wants and sorrows of the 
 poor; and we could give many touching instances of his devotion to the relief 
 of their necessities. ***** " We take leave of the subject with regret ; and 
 would willingly linger over the reminiscences of one, whose piely, talents and 
 goodness form a bright and beautiful page in the volume of memory." — Souihexn 
 Chitrchman. 
 
Ixxiv 
 
 ments him dead, that " he embodied in his life and conversation, 
 above all men that he had ever known, the system and the spirit of 
 the Church." After this, he spent a year at Burlington, pursuing 
 his theological studies, and dignifying with pastoral assiduity and 
 usefulness the humble (but as he, with the primitive Church, re- 
 garded it, the most serviceable, and therefore honourable,) office of 
 Catechist. Of his devotion to the sick, and poor, and afflicted, in 
 the parish, the memory will never fail. He never spared himself, 
 and was never weary in the service of the needy and distressed. 
 He travelled miles, at night, and through storms, to carry com- 
 forts or refreshments to the sick and dying. He would rise 
 from his bed at midnight, that he might assist in turning a poor, 
 bed-ridden boy. He was the almoner of the parish ; and never 
 rested in the wildest storm of winter, till he knew that there 
 was fuel in the house of every poor old woman. Meanwhile, 
 he was as a student most assiduous and profitable. A venerable 
 presbyter, familiar, for forty years, with examinations for orders, 
 declared his, the very best he ever attended. He was ordained 
 Deacon, in St. Mary's Church, Burlington, on Whitsunday, 1838; 
 from which time he became Assistant to the Rector of the Church. 
 The neighbouring parish of St. Stephen's Church, Willingborough, 
 being vacant, he supplied it one half of each Lord's Day, for many 
 months, regardless of fatigue and exposure, and with unwearied 
 assiduity, though at that time far from well. He was admitted to 
 the Priesthood, on the 15th day of March, 1839. His public ser- 
 vices, from the first, were striking and commanding, far beyond his 
 years. The present writer has heard but very few sermons that 
 were superior to his ;^ and the Hon. Horace Binney, a summer 
 parishioner of St. Mary's Church, has often said, that he had heard 
 none such from a young man. So early did our loved one realize 
 that highest praise, " laudari a laudato." But far beyond even his 
 
 ' He wrote fifty one sermons in all, several of which he destroyed before his 
 death. 
 
Ixxv 
 
 ripeness as a scholar, and his manliness as a preacher, was the devo- 
 tion of his unfailing benevolence. He not only continued, but in- 
 creased, his labours among the poor and the afflicted. It was his highest 
 pleasure — more than his meat and drink — " to search for the sick, 
 poor and impotent people of the parish, to intimate their estates, 
 names and places where they dwell, unto the Curate, that by his 
 exhortation they might be relieved with the alms of the parishioners 
 or others;" and it was partly from these peculiar duties of the office, 
 and partly from his surpassing modesty, that he lingered in spirit in 
 the diaconate, and left it with a feeling of reluctance. He would 
 carry any burden, to any distance, if it ministered to comfort. He 
 walked miles to watch with a very sick woman. And once, when 
 he found that the feelings of the family would otherwise be hurt, he 
 stole away, when he was sick enough to be in bed, to sit all night 
 by the corpse of a negro boy. In him, the gift of mercy proved 
 "twice blessed." There was not a citizen of Burlington that did 
 not respect and desire to serve him. When the ear heard him 
 then it blessed him ; and when the eye saw him it gave witness to 
 him. Surely, one may say, in such piety and such benevolence, 
 there is immunity from suffering, and guaranty for length of days. 
 But he lives long who has lived well : and if men could reckon on 
 security of life from any thing, would they not be less considerate 
 of death even than they are ? 
 
 It was in the midst of such usefulness, and in the bloom of domes- 
 tic happiness, with a wife of less than a year beside him, that the 
 keen eye of science detected, in the hidden malady which had dis- 
 tressed him for some months, the seeds of certain death. He had 
 been watched, with all a father's love by a physician, as tender and 
 skilful and judicious and devoted as ever man was blessed with ; 
 and the ablest surgical talent of Philadelphia was promptly called 
 in counsel. But the sure decree had issued, and our beloved was 
 marked for death. It did not take him by surpn'se. He had al- 
 
Ixxvi 
 
 ways lived to die. And he had long had an impression that lengtli 
 of days was not for him. Still while he might hope, he hoped: and 
 while resources could be availed of, he employed them for the com- 
 fort of his family, and, if it should so please God, that he might longer 
 serve the Church. When he was told that all was given up by his 
 physicians, not a feature of his countenance was changed. " God's 
 will be done!" was the immediate and becoming expression. Nay, 
 if he might but be prepared, he would add, "Even so, Lord Jesus, 
 come quickly!" All his arrangements were made to the most mi- 
 nute detail ; "as calmly," one well remarked, " as if he were going 
 on a journey." He spoke to all his friends, of his decease, with the 
 serenity of an old saint. All he was anxious for, he said, was for 
 his sins. Them, he humbly trusted, he might cast, by faith, upon 
 the bleeding Cross. He was from his childhood the most conscien- 
 tious of beings. And, though, to all who knew him, his life seemed 
 wrought, through grace, to the highest point of excellence attainable 
 to man, to him, he said, it all seemed sinful. Nevertheless, he rest- 
 ed on the atonement by Christ Jesus; and he desired his dying tes- 
 timony to be recorded to the sufficiency and power of those princi- 
 ples and institutions, in which, as a Catholic Churchman, he had 
 lived, and hoped to die. From this blended self-abasement and con- 
 fidence in Christ, he never wavered. His last wish was to receive 
 " the blessed Communion," (which he had partaken but a few days be- 
 fore) but his symptoms did not permit it. The sufferings of his 
 whole sickness were great, and especially those of the last four days. 
 But he never once complained or murmured : and often did his 
 physician express his amazement at such patience and serenity and 
 cheerfulness, and ascribe it clearly to the power of his religion. 
 On the day before he died, he said to the Bishop, (who through all 
 his sickness, except when absent on his autumnal visitation, had been 
 with him,) " Do not think, from the tones of my voice that I have 
 become a grumbler ; I am a little hoarse." 
 
Ixxvii 
 
 From Sunday, 17 November, the progress of his dissolution was 
 steady and distressing. Yet, at intervals, he much enjoyed the read- 
 ing of the Psalms, the conversation of him whom he loved to call 
 his "spiritual Father," and the prayers of his Mother, the Church. 
 Even on the day before his death, he spoke strongly of the entire 
 sufficiency, for all the purposes of devotion, in every condition of life, 
 of the Book of Common Prayer. He had the satisfaction to know 
 that "prayer had been made to God for him continually," in his par- 
 ish Church, for many weeks ; as in others in the diocese. Solemnly 
 did he protest against what men call "death-bed repentance," es- 
 pecially from the experience of his own last days. On Wednesday, 
 he suffered very much. His decease had been looked for on the pre- 
 vious day. On that night the Bishop and Mrs, Doane, his aunt, 
 (loved by him, and loving him, with all the tenderness of a mother,) 
 were to have watched with him. But as he revived a little, and 
 they wished to be with him at the last, they deferred it until Wednes- 
 day night. By a merciful providence, after being awake, and with- 
 out the slightest sustenance but water, for three days and three 
 nights, he fell asleep for ten minutes, a little before midnight ; 
 and woke, without distress, and refreshed for the last struggle. 
 Soon, he began to sink, but without pain or suffering of any kind. 
 " I feel very strangely," said he, " do you think my time is come?" 
 The Bishop replied, that it seemed so, though only God could tell. 
 "Oh," said he " I have no anxiety for that; 1 am only anxious for 
 my sins." " They are washed away," said the Bishop, " through 
 faith in the blood of the Cross, the fountain opened in the Church 
 for sin and for uncleanness." " I humbly trust so," was his meek 
 response. Shortly after, as he lay serene and still, he gently raised 
 his right hand, then as cold as stone, and traced upon his forehead, 
 in silence and solemnity, the sign of the blessed Cross. We under- 
 stood the omen. He was retracing his baptismal sign. He was re- 
 newing his baptismal dedication. He was confessing the Crucified 
 
Ixxviii 
 
 once more before men. He was sealing himself for the sepulchre. 
 The Bishop pronounced at once the Commendatory Benediction, from 
 the Visitation service, to which he fervently replied " Amen :" and 
 when the Bishop then added, " Behold, the Lamb of God, who taketh 
 away the sins of the world," he turned his eyes upward, and with 
 his finger pointed to the heavens. He was " looking unto Jesus." 
 Nor did he look in vain. Presently he said, " I do not see distinct- 
 ly, I do not hear well." The Bishop used the words in the Visitation 
 service, " The Almighty Lord, who is a most strong tower to all 
 those who put their trust in him, be now and evermore thy defence," 
 &c. Evidently supposing that they were meant to quiet any apprehen- 
 sions, he said distinctly, "I am calm. I have hope in Christ. But 
 I am very weak." These were his latest words, except of recogni- 
 tion to his father, and the kind and faithful female friend, who had at- 
 tended him through all his sickness, and was with him at the last. — 
 He gradually sunk, breathed more and more faintl)'', and surrendered 
 up his spirit to the God who gave it, so quietly that his latest breath 
 could not be distinguished. " So He giveth his beloved sleep." 
 
 His funeral was attended on Saturday morning, in St. Mary's 
 Church ; the Bishop of the diocese, as he had requested, scarcely 
 performing the funeral service. After which he was borne to the 
 grave by his sorrowing brethren, and followed by a weeping com- 
 munity. His funeral sermon was to have been preached on Sunday 
 morning: but was deferred until the afternoon, at the instance of 
 the Rev. Mr. Van Rensselaer, the Presbyterian minister; who, in 
 the name of his own congregation, and those of the Baptists and 
 Methodists, requested that arrangement, in a most truly Christian 
 letter :^ that they might transfer their worship, as he beautifully ex- 
 
 ' Right ReverentI and dear Sir, 
 
 You are aware of the deep sympathy of all denominations of Chris- 
 tians, in the present affliction of your family and Church. The departure of 
 Winslow, has spread a gloom over the community, of which he was a useful 
 
Ixxix 
 
 pressed it, " to the solemnities of our sanctuary," and " unite in our 
 expressions of respect and sympathy." And, notwithstanding the 
 violence of the storm, the Church was filled to overflowing. So 
 easy is it to be a decided and consistent Churchman ; and yet, by a 
 holy life and charitable conversation, secure the universal favour. 
 Such is the resistless magnetism of Christian holiness, imbued with 
 Christian charity. G. W. D. 
 
 and cherished member. For one, I loved and honoured him for his Christian 
 zeal and integrity ; and I but express the opinion of the multitude, in this tes- 
 timony to his virtuous character. 
 
 It has been reported that the funeral sermon is to be preached to-morrow 
 morning ; and it is the object of this note humbly to suggest whether you might 
 not yield to the desire of many from other denominations, and postpone it till 
 the afternoon. The Methodists and Baptists have no service at that time ; and 
 we would love to transfer our worship to the solemnities of your own sanc- 
 tuary. 
 
 In humbly making this proposal, I am not aware how far the expectation of 
 your own congregation (which is of course to be specially consulted,) would 
 be grieved and disappointed by any postponement. And there may be other 
 reasons, adverse to granting our desires, of which you yourself are the sole 
 judge. But, if in any way, it would be consistent with the arrrangements of 
 the Sabbath to allow very many others to unite in their expressions of interest 
 and sympathy, we would all esteem it a favour. At the same time, I repeat, 
 that a denial would be considered as springing from the very best reasons. 
 With great regard and respect, yours, 
 
 CoHTLANDT VaN ReNSSELAEH. 
 
 Surlington, Saturday morning. 
 
 My very kind friend, 
 
 I have received your most Christian note ; and hasten to say, that 
 your request shall be complied with. It was my purpose to attempt to pay 
 the tribute of a bleeding heart to my dear child, to-morrow morning ; and it is 
 more usual with us to do so. But I most cheerfully adopt the arrangement 
 you so considerately suggest ; and to which every consideration, but that of 
 absolute duty, should have been yielded, without a moment's hesitation. Ac- 
 cept my cordial thanks for the manner in which you have spoken of my be- 
 loved son and brother, to whose rare Christian graces you do but justice; and 
 believe me, most affectionately, and faithfully, your friend, 
 
 Geoiige W. Doaxe. 
 Riverside, Saturday morning. 
 
Ixxx 
 5Che Hector's mwtutmns pastoral, 
 
 TO THE PARISHIONERS OF ST. MARt's CUUIlCa. 
 
 Brethren beloved in the Lord, 
 
 The cheerful Christmas season comes to us, this year, in clouds. 
 On our most holy places, the habiliments of woe have but just yielded 
 to the garments of rejoicing. With the myrtle, and the laurel, and 
 the box, that testify our gratitude and gladness for a Redeemer born, 
 there is a mingling of funereal cypress. A new grave garners, till 
 the resurrection morning, the precious dust of the beloved Winslow. 
 What then? Shall we not rejoice at " the good tidings of great joy," 
 that " unto us is born, this day, in the city of David, a Saviour, 
 which is Christ the Lord?" " Oh, say not so," said he, in his last 
 days, to one, who spoke of having a gloomy Christmas, on account 
 of his decease — " Oh, say not so, but think what we should all be, 
 but for the birth which Christmas-day commemorates !" Beloved, 
 it is even so. The Christian's joy must always be " with trembling." 
 The Christian's sorrow can never be " without hope." " And this 
 alternation of joy and sorrow ;" as one hath beautifully said, "of joy 
 not unsubdued, and sorrow not unmitigated, is characteristic of that 
 divine system, through which the Church would train her children for 
 heaven. Each week has its Fast, as well as its Feast ; as if to teach us 
 that would we rise with Christ, we must also suffer with Him. We 
 are ushered, through Vigils, into Festivals; and are moulded into 
 fitness for our Easter joy, by the penitential discipline of Lent, Our 
 joy is never all joyful, neither is our sorrow all sorrowful. We 
 sorrow, as having hope elsewhere ; and rejoice, as still in the body. 
 Such is the Church's portion, while militant in the world. Soon the 
 world shall melt away from around her ; than shall she rejoice with- 
 out sorrowing," That in that blessed season of the Church's joy, 
 we may all rejoice, through grace, " with joy unspeakable and full 
 of glory," devoutly prays your friend and Christian Pastor, 
 
 George W. Doane. 
 Riverside, St. Thomas^ Day, 1839. 
 
SERMONS 
 
SERMON I. 
 
 THE DAY AND MEANS OF GRACE NEGLECTED. 
 
 The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved. 
 
 Jeremiah viii. 20. 
 
 These words are put in the lips of the Jews, by Jere- 
 miah, in prophetic vision, as expressive of the horri- 
 ble despair, which would come upon them, when all 
 hope of assistance from the Egyptians and other al- 
 lies should be lost, and the armies of Babylon should 
 have gathered beneath their gates, and laid waste 
 their palaces, their cities, and their country. The 
 voice of the cry of the daughters of his people had 
 reached the ears of the stricken seer, the voice of 
 calm and terrible despair : for, as the judgments of 
 God gathered fast upon them; fire, sword, and the 
 clashing chain of captivity, one by one, all their ne- 
 glected opportunities and means of safety, all the 
 goodness and mercy extended unto them, and their 
 fathers, in the days of old, by God, even their Gody 
 all the pleasant hours which they had spent in their 
 quiet homes with friends and kindred, all the horrors 
 of an exile in a strange land, the broken family-circle^ 
 the deserted home, the bed of death, unattended by 
 one familiar form, uncheered by one remembered 
 voice, the burial by the cold, careless hand of stran- 
 gers, the grave unmoistened by one kindly tear, and 
 far above them all, the righteous indignation of an 
 
4 THE DAY AND MEANS OF GRACE NEGLECTED. 
 
 offended God, flashed upon the mind's eye; and each 
 crushed heart, in remorse and regret for the past, and 
 in utter despair for the future, gave vent to that bit- 
 ter, that hopeless lamentation, **the harvest is past, 
 the summer is ended, and we are not saved." 
 
 My brethren, the wicked and impenitent Jews, 
 from whose lips this bitter exclamation was wrung, 
 have gone to their account, gone to their own place, 
 gone, perchance, with all those sins and iniquities 
 which forced, as it were, from heaven, such dreadful 
 manifestations of the wrath of God, unrepented of 
 and unpardoned. And what a fearful thing it is, 
 that at this very moment, while we, in this Christian 
 congregation, are dwelling upon their sorrows and 
 their doom; they, in the regions of the departed, may 
 be recalling neglected opportunities and means of 
 grace, slighted menaces and despised warnings, and 
 exclaiming "our harvest is past, our summer is 
 ended, and" — oh! with what horrible despair must 
 they add, as the interminable future of woe bursts 
 upon them — " we are not saved." That cry, uttered 
 long centuries ago, that cry, this very moment echoed 
 by the lost, is not permitted to reach us without its 
 appropriate lesson. It is to be feared that some of 
 you might use the same lamentation, with equal pro- 
 priety; it is to be feared that some of you have suf- 
 fered the summer of grace and opportunities to fade 
 away, and now you are not saved. As yet, however, 
 thank God ! that cry is not uttered in final despair. 
 The present moment is left you. And may God 
 grant that by none of you this present opportunity of 
 making your peace with Him, through Jesus Christ, 
 
THE DAY AND MEANS OF GRACE NEGLECTED. 5 
 
 may afterwards be regarded, when the great harvest 
 is past, as one of the golden summer days, suffered 
 to shine on neglected and uncultivated hearts ; suf- 
 fered to dawn and brighten and fade, and its long 
 twilight to linger over you, and then pass away for- 
 ever, leaving you not saved. I invite you, then, 
 my brethren, to consider with me some of the oppor- 
 tunities and means of salvation put within the reach 
 of all, and the manner in which men usually neglect 
 them ; then the causes of such neglect ; and, lastly, 
 the certain and dreadful consequences of so doing. 
 
 I. If life be " the time to serve the Lord," youth 
 is the great and best opportunity for performing, or 
 rather commencing, the great work of salvation; of 
 submitting ourselves wholly, body and soul to God, 
 and thus obtaining righteousness, pardon and peace, 
 by the blood of Christ, and the power of the indwell- 
 ing Spirit. For the right improvement of this season, 
 we have both the commandment and the promise of 
 God, "remember now thy Creator in the days of 
 thy youth;" and, " they that seek me early shall find 
 me." It is the spring time of life; and the heart is 
 then more fitted to receive the seeds of the divine 
 word, and the dews of divine grace. The freedom 
 from much care and business, the good influence of 
 home and friends, it may be of that best of earthly 
 friends " a Christian mother," and the affections di- 
 rected to better objects than in after-life, all combine 
 to render it the fitting, the best, I might almost say, 
 the only time to turn to God, and do His will. These 
 remarks are chiefly and more especially true of those 
 baptized in infancy. Born into a world of sin and 
 
6 THE DAY AND MEANS OF GRACE NEGLECTED. 
 
 sorrow, born with a sinful nature, they are at once 
 brought to the Saviour by His Church, and grafted 
 into Him ; and they commence their lives as children 
 of God, partakers of his grace, heirs according to the 
 promise, in a justified, and regenerate state. What 
 substantial blessings, real privileges and glorious 
 hopes belong to them, in the dawn of their lives ! 
 But how often is the precious baptismal gift squan- 
 dered away, and utterly lost by sin! How often 
 might those who, in early childhood, by the chancel 
 rail, heartily thanked their heavenly Father that He 
 had called them to "this state of salvation," exclaim, 
 when a few years more had passed over their heads, 
 despite of the love of Christ, the nurturing care of 
 the Church, of parents, of sponsors, we are not saved! 
 Ah, how often are youth and early religious oppor- 
 tunities entirely lost! And how are you, young 
 friends, using the day and means of grace ? Is the 
 heart given up to God ? Has the seed sown by the 
 great husbandman sprung up into a tree of life? 
 Are you using all the means given you by God, to 
 cultivate the tender plant, praying for the early and 
 the latter rain of God's blessing and grace? Only 
 look around you, in the world, in your own hearts, 
 and you will have an answer to these questions. 
 Here is one young person gifted with talents, rich in 
 all but the things pertaining to the kingdom of God, 
 wasting his youth in pleasure. His heart is as yet 
 green and un withered, but no seed of God's word 
 has taken root there ; rank weeds and noxious plants 
 are springing up in the place of the tree of life. He 
 has many friends with whom he mingles often, and 
 
THE DAY AND MEANS OF GRACE NEGLECTED. 7 
 
 pledges them in the intoxicating cup. The haunts 
 of pleasure, it may be the haunts of vice, often wit- 
 ness their vows of hollow friendship. But he has 
 done nothing to secure the friendship of Him that 
 ''sticketh closer than a brother." His home is no 
 longer to him a place of delight, and the tender ac- 
 cents of a mother, and the wise counsels of a father, 
 are neglected and despised. And to the heavenly 
 home and the heavenly Father, he is an utter stranger. 
 There is another who has not taste or relish for the 
 sinful pleasures of the world, but it is not because 
 they are sinful. His idol is gold. Day after day he 
 spends in the place of business, toiling for a little, 
 yellow dust ; meanwhile neglecting God, his intel- 
 lect, his heart. Such a one the world would com- 
 mend as an honorable example of industry; but look 
 at him as he really is. It is his springtime of life ; 
 every thing about him invites to something better 
 and purer than riches. But his heart is as dry as 
 summer dust : no love of God, no holy affections, no 
 hopes of heaven are there; and "the cares of this 
 world and the deceitfulness of riches " have choked 
 the word of God. There is another who might be 
 a blessing to all around her, and the beloved of God, 
 frittering away the day of salvation, in the service of 
 society, sedulously adorning that body on which ere 
 long the hungry grave-worm will banquet, while 
 rankling envy, or overbearing pride inhabit the soul, 
 which the Spirit of God has in vain sought for His 
 temple ; or from which he has been banished, it may 
 be, to return no more. Are there any such here? 
 Or are any passing into the summer of life, leaving 
 
8 THE DAY AND MEANS OF GRACE NEGLECTED. 
 
 its spring unimproved ? Oh, beware ! It will be very 
 hard to do that amid all the cares and business of 
 manhood, which was left undone in the carelessness 
 and comparative innocence of youth. Soon, old age 
 will be upon you ; and how desolate and cheerless you 
 will be, with the remembrance of a life lost, with the 
 prospect of a soul eternally ruined. How similar is 
 your case to that of the wretched Jews ! They sought 
 for aid from the Egyptians against impending destruc- 
 tion. The Egyptians to whom you have resorted 
 have been the pleasures, the honours, the riches of 
 this world. In both cases, the looked-for succour 
 was not received ; and, like them, you are now left, 
 old, wasted, forsaken, to the fearful wrath of God. 
 Your summer is ended, your harvest is past; you 
 are not saved. Oh, cry earnestly to the great Lord 
 of the harvest, if even now he will hear you ! It may 
 be that that plant will bloom amid the unkindly frosts 
 and snows of age, that was not nursed by the dews 
 of spring? or matured by the sun of summer. But, if 
 it bloom at all, it must be watered by the bitterest 
 tears of repentance ; if it bloom at all, it will here be 
 ** a small unsightly root," and in another country will 
 bear " its bright golden flower." Meanwhile, the re- 
 ligion implanted in youth, will have sprung and 
 spread into a beautiful tree, ready to be transplanted 
 to the evergreen banks of that river whose streams 
 make glad the city of our God. Thus is life — and 
 youth especially — that great, that best opportunity of 
 salvation, too often neglected by men. Their spring 
 is passed in pleasure; their summer in the fierce 
 struggle for riches, place, and power ; and at harvest 
 
THE DAY AND MEANS OF GRACE NEGLECTED. 9 
 
 time they reap the whirlwind of divine displeasure. 
 Their autumn is a season of withered hopes and fal- 
 len pride; their winter of spiritual desolation and 
 death. Thus they are "not saved." 
 
 Besides this favorable season of youth which is so 
 often passed through without improvement, we must 
 consider some other seasons and opportunities and 
 means of grace which meet with, similar neglect. 
 The holy Scriptures, the preached word, the ordinan- 
 ces of religion, the striving of the Spirit, the day of 
 rest, the various dispensations of Providence, es- 
 pecially those which concern ourselves, are each and 
 all blessings shed along that spiritual summer in 
 which we must be saved. Each day is a day of 
 grace ; and how many when looking back upon this 
 present day, upon this present opportunity of salva- 
 tion, will be compelled to say with the afflicted house 
 of Judah, " the harvest is past, the summer is ended :" 
 the grace this day proffered has been spurned, the 
 time and opportunity thus neglected are recorded 
 against us in the book of remembrance ; and yet we 
 are still in our sins, "we are not saved." You all, 
 my brethren, have the means enumerated above 
 within your reach ; and some of you, must I not say, 
 many of you, neglect them. You have the Bible in 
 your houses ; nay, you even have its precious words 
 in your memories, but you have not its truths in 
 your hearts. The warnings, the exhortations, the 
 invitations addressed to you at Church, are by too 
 many of you applied to your friends, neighbours; to 
 any and all but yourselves. The influences of the 
 Holy Ghost are extended to all; but when con- 
 
10 THE DAY AND MEANS OF GRACE NEGLECTED. 
 
 vinced of sin, when led for a moment to think seri- 
 ously of death and the judgment, you turn aside from 
 the " still small voice," you banish the unwelcome 
 fear, and ascribe remorse to the state of the animal 
 system, or try to persuade yourselves that it is not 
 "a fearful thing" for an unforgiven sinner to "fall 
 into the hands of the living God." Or some darling 
 idol is removed by the kind hand of your heavenly 
 Father, some creature loved more than the Creator; 
 but sorrow does not lead to repentance unto life. You 
 plunge more madly than ever into pleasure or busi- 
 ness; and consolation is sought in and from the 
 world, and not from Him that overcame the world. 
 All these things, are as it w^ere, summer sunbeams, 
 sent down to w^arm into life the fruits of the Spirit; 
 and thus too often are sent in vain. But the sum- 
 mer of grace is waning fast. Soon will the great 
 reaper go forth, and the harvest be gathered in. My 
 brethren, who of you, in the full enjoyment of all 
 the means and opportunities which have been named, 
 as yet are "not saved?" 
 
 II. And now let us inquire why it is that men 
 thus neglect the day and means of salvation ; why it is 
 that so many run the fearful risk of losing their im- 
 mortal souls. The answers to these questions must 
 necessarily be brief. A disbelief in the promises 
 and threatenings of God must be one cause of such a 
 course of conduct. A disposition to put off the day 
 of salvation is another. False hope is continually 
 whispering to men that theirs is not the common lot; 
 that even if they do not repent they will escape ; that 
 some favourable opening will be made especially for 
 
THE DAY AND MEANS OF GRACE NEGLECTED. 11 
 
 them. This hope is ever dancing like a meteor about 
 their paths, and attracting their eyes from the light 
 which shines on the way of everlasting life. This 
 hope often illumines with its false glare the darkest 
 moments of the impenitent, and in some cases grows 
 not pale even by the bed of death. It must grow 
 dim, and fade forever in the lurid lustre of that flame 
 which is not quenched ! Lastly, like the Jews of 
 old, men expect aid from the Egyptians. Their 
 riches, their pleasures, their business is their present 
 refuge from remorse. Will they be their refuge from 
 the judgments of God? Oh! you who are trusting 
 in such perishable objects, only reflect for a moment 
 how helpless, and desolate, and comfortless you are, 
 when sickness keeps you from the wonted place of 
 business, renders you incapable of tasting the cup of 
 pleasure, or racks you with pains which all the riches 
 of earth cannot alleviate. And how will it be with 
 you when riches and pleasures {ijoiir pleasures) and 
 business are at an end forever; and you have nothing 
 left but the remembrance of an unholy life, and an 
 account to render to a perfectly just Judge ? 
 
 III. But we shall see farther the extreme folly and 
 madness of this course of conduct, if we consider the 
 last head of the discourse ; the certain and dreadful 
 consequences of so doing. I desire earnestly to fix your 
 attention on the certainty of the loss of salvation, if 
 the summer, the grace, be suffered to go by unim- 
 proved. I say the certainty; for all will admit that 
 the loss of salvation itself is a fearful thing. And 
 men would not so frequently throw away their souls 
 if they realized the fearful consequences of their 
 
 # 
 
12 THE DAY AND MEANS OF GRACE NEGLECTED. 
 
 course of conduct. This was one of the causes of 
 the loss of the house of Judah. God's threatenings 
 against them were fearful, but they did not realize 
 their terrible character. But when their summer 
 was ended, conviction came in all its horror — they 
 were ^'■not saved T 
 
 All the dealings of God in the physical universe 
 abundantly show that he has attached fearful penal- 
 ties to the neglect of opportunities; and that those 
 penalties must surely be paid. Take the case of a 
 slothful husbandman : and the case is highly appo- 
 site, since the language of the text has a reference to 
 agricultural pursuits. Such an one neglects the 
 seed-time, and what is his situation at harvest? 
 While the fields about him are waving with the yel- 
 low grain, ripe for the sickle, his own ground is an 
 uncultivated waste. Yet a few days, and the storms 
 of winter howl around him ; and he is in famine, and 
 want, and misery. His harvest is past, his summer 
 is ended, he is not saved. Or look at him who has 
 neglected youth, that golden season for mental, moral 
 and physical improvement, and has devoted it to idle- 
 ness and vice. What are the consequences of his 
 course? Poverty, disease, loss of character, of intel- 
 lect, of affection, and in most cases an untimely 
 death. Now if such are the dealings of God in the 
 physical, we have every reason to expect the same 
 in the moral world. If the husbandman who ne- 
 glects seed-time and summer, starves in the winter; 
 if the youth who has plunged into vicious excesses 
 perishes ; there is every reason to expect that he who 
 neglects the spiritual seed-time, will not be saved in 
 
THE DAY AND MEANS OF GRACE NEGLECTED. 13 
 
 the harvest of the end of the world. And surely, 
 my brethren, sacred history abundantly confirms this 
 analogy. Take the case of the Jews alone. What 
 a long summer of grace was given to them ! Some 
 clouds and shadows obscured its brightness, but they 
 were sent to correct and reform. Grace after grace 
 was given, opportunity after opportunity afforded, 
 and still they repented not. And at the close of their 
 probation, in the very last days of their summer, the 
 Sun of Righteousness beamed out in fullest splen- 
 dour, but shone in vain on their cold, hard hearts. 
 Their summer was at last ended, their harvest came 
 and passed away. They were not — they are "not 
 saved." The prophet foretold hundreds of years ago, 
 " my God shall make you wanderers among the na- 
 tions;" and we, my brethren, see it, this very day 
 sadly verified. 
 
 "The wild dove hath her nest, the fox his cave, 
 Mankind their country, Israel but the grave." 
 
 Thus much for the certainty of the woe denounced 
 upon those who neglect that summer given to ripen 
 the spirit for eternal glory. 
 
 Of the awful character of that woe, it is almost im- 
 possible to speak. Our safest language upon the 
 subject is that of Scripture. Yet it is evident that 
 among its bitter ingredients will be remorse for, and 
 consciousness of, neglected opportunities ; the sense 
 of having brought all this misery upon one's self. If 
 language was ever appropriate to any, the words of 
 our text will be to those who, after the morning of 
 the great harvest, the day of judgment, shall find 
 that they are "not saved." After the first amaze- 
 
14 THE DAY AND MEANS OF GRACE NEGLECTED. 
 
 ment has passed by, and the lost spirit realizes all 
 the horrors of its situation, it will recur to the past — 
 to baptismal gifts and privileges; to the early teach- 
 ings of parents in the way of righteousness; to its 
 golden childhood and happy youth, which might 
 have been days of salvation; the Bible, with all its 
 offers of pardon and peace ; the many w^arnings given 
 from the pulpit; the earnest calls of the Holy Ghost, 
 and will clearly see that had those privileges and 
 times been improved, those teachings received, 
 those offers embraced, it might have been in hea- 
 ven. Then, too, will it realize the inestimable love 
 of Jesus, in dying to save us from the curse and 
 misery of sin, and feel that it too once had an inter- 
 est in that death; that its sins might once have 
 been washed away in His precious blood. And then, 
 banished forever from the presence of God, and, it 
 may be, from tenderly beloved friends; sold irreco- 
 verably to sin; in misery, in torment, in "the black- 
 ness of darkness," will it exclaim, with the horrible 
 calmness of despair, "the harvest is past, the sum- 
 mer is ended, and I am not saved." And all the 
 fearful company of the lost will echo back the cry, 
 ^'we are not saved!" And that cry will ring on 
 through eternity! Can any words adequately de- 
 scribe the state of such a soul ? Yet this is the state 
 to which every soul is now condemned, who is not, 
 by a living faith in the Son of God, habitually victo- 
 rious over sin, or at any rate seriously striving to be- 
 come so ! Is it an awful thing for the never-dying 
 soul to be lost? Are there no lost souls here? Let 
 us all apply the scriptural text to ourselves, before 
 
THE DAY AND MEANS OF GRACE NEGLECTED. 15 
 
 we presume to answer such a question — " He that 
 belie veth on Him is not condemned ; but he that be- 
 lieveth not is condemned already, because he hath 
 not believed in the name of the only begotten Son of 
 God." And again, "He that believeth on the Son 
 hath everlasting life; and he that believeth not on 
 the Son shall not see life; but the wrath of God 
 abideth on him." 
 
 Brethren, I have but a few words to add to these 
 fearful declarations. Your summer has not yet 
 ended. You have yet one more day of grace; that 
 is to-daij. To-day, then, ye who have never known 
 God, or have wandered from Him, be reconciled to 
 Him, through the Saviour; ^Ho-day, if ye 7vill hear 
 His voice harden not your hearts." Go to our blessed 
 and merciful Redeemer, and you shall be saved — 
 saved from such a doom as that described ; and, bet- 
 ter and more glorious still, saved from the power of 
 tyrant sin, and restored to the lost dignity of sons of 
 God. "Work out," then, your own salvation, I en- 
 treat you, "while it is called to-daij;''^ else to-morrow 
 you may be exclaiming, '^tlie harvest is past, the sum- 
 mer is ended, and rve are not saved.'' ^ 
 
 Beloved, brethren, are there not some of you who 
 come Sunday after Sunday to Church, and listen to 
 the Gospel of salvation, and yet go back to your 
 homes, conscious that you are not saved; that you 
 are not in such a state that if your souls should this 
 night be required of you, you could meet death with 
 calmness and serenity, with a reasonable hope of sal- 
 vation, through Christ? And how long is it to be 
 so? How many more days of rest will call you up 
 
] 6 THE DAY AND MEANS OF GRACE NEGLECTED. 
 
 hither from the turmoil of business, before you re- 
 pent, and believe, and obey the Gospel? Have you 
 made a covenant with death to spare you till you 
 have made your peace with God? Consider that 
 this may be the very last call to repentance that you 
 will ever have ; and rest assured that every time you 
 hear the Gospel, unmoved, your heart becomes more 
 and more hardened against its claims. 
 
SERMON IL 
 
 THE LAMB OF GOD. 
 
 Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world. 
 
 St. John i. 29. 
 
 These few words, spoken by John the Baptist, of 
 our blessed Saviour, are full of meaning, and declare 
 one of the great doctrines of the Gospel. They reveal 
 a truth, which, from the fall, had been mysteriously 
 shadowed forth by sacrifices and offerings, "which 
 could never take away sin." In a word, we have 
 here what is commonly called the doctrine of the 
 atonement. A doctrine which is full of comfort to all 
 who are zealously set upon forsaking sin, and turn- 
 ing to God; for by it we are assured that there is 
 nothing to impede the mercy of God from those who 
 are willing to be saved. A doctrine which is awfully 
 mysterious, and has greatly exercised the human in- 
 tellect, and we might almost say in vain. A doc- 
 trine which is best understood by those who have 
 experienced its healing and cleansing efficacy; and 
 who know, from an inv/ard knowledge of the Cross, 
 that it is indeed "the power of God and the wisdom 
 of God." 
 
 By duly considering what is meant by the phrases, 
 '^Lamh of God'' and ''taketh away the sin of the 
 world,'" we may attain to a full apprehension of the 
 doctrine here unfolded. 
 
 3 
 
18 THE LAMB OF GOD. 
 
 The phrase "Lamb of God" is evidently a sacri- 
 ficial one, and alludes to a Lamb, whose blood, un- 
 der the old covenant, bore some analogy to the 
 blood of Christ, under the new. Thus, in the first 
 epistle general of St. Peter, Christ is spoken of as 
 a Lamb without blemish, by whose blood men are 
 redeemed; and also St. John the Divine, in the 
 Apocalypse, calls Him the Lamb which had been 
 slain, and, by his blood, redeemed men, from all 
 the nations of the world. Now in all these pas- 
 sages, there is a plain allusion either to the Paschal 
 Lamb, by whose blood the children of Israel had 
 been delivered from the destroying Angel in the land 
 of Egypt, or else to the Lamb of the daily sacrifice; 
 which latter allusion is the most probable. But 
 what was the object and meaning of the daily sacri- 
 fice? How, or where, did the custom of animal sa- 
 crifices originate? Answers to these questions are 
 necessary to a full explanation of our subject. 
 
 How then did animal sacrifices originate ? Of the 
 universality of this custom you are all aware. It 
 either was a deduction of reason, or it was from the 
 immediate command of God. But is there any natu- 
 ral connection between the death of an innocent vic- 
 tim, and the propitiation of the Deity, and the con- 
 sequent remission of sins; under which notion, we 
 find, that victims were generally put to death? Evi- 
 dently there is none ; and so we are reduced to one 
 of tv/o modes of accounting for the first introduction, 
 and subsequent prevalence of this custom. Either, 
 that it was the rude guess of the first man, who, alas ! 
 for us, was also the first sinner, which was handed 
 
THE LAMB OF GOD. 19 
 
 down through the various families of men, and was 
 afterwards taken up by God; or that it was in the 
 outset expressly enjoined by God, as a means of at- 
 taining a certain end. Now from the want of any 
 apparent connection between the death of an inno- 
 cent victim, and the removal of guilt, there is a 
 strong presumption against animal sacrifice being 
 the invention of any man ; to say nothing of the re- 
 volting character of the custom itself. Moreover, is 
 it probable that God would have taken up with such 
 a custom, and have accommodated his plans to it? 
 Has it generally been the mode of God to accommo- 
 date his plans to the erroneous apprehensions of his 
 creatures? Surely He did not do it under the Mo- 
 saic dispensation, which enjoined many things di- 
 rectly opposite to the then prevailing notions. Surely 
 He did not thus proceed, in the first appearing of 
 our Saviour ; who came in a manner, and in a guise, 
 entirely different from what was fondly anticipated 
 by His chosen people. And even if it were possible 
 that Adam should have invented this religious rite, 
 how easily it might have been checked in the outset : 
 for it is probable that the first sacrifices were offered 
 before Adam and Eve were banished from the gar- 
 den of Eden; and so before they were finally de- 
 prived of the more immediate presence, and direct 
 communications, of God. And if it were the inven- 
 tion of man, is it probable that God would have per- 
 mitted its continuance, and thus have caused the 
 sufferings and death of innumerable creatures formed 
 and cherished by Him ; and so the objects, in com- 
 mon with creatures of a higher order, of his bound- 
 
20 THE LAMB OF GOD. 
 
 less and infinite love? I think not. And we may 
 safely infer from what has been said, which indeed 
 has been the prevailing opinion among Christian 
 people, that sacrifices were in the outset commanded 
 by God. 
 
 But what then was their object ?. What their signi- 
 ficancy? Did they have any reference to any future 
 event? It seems that the notion under which they 
 were offered up was this : that the sin of the person, 
 or persons, offering them, or causing them to be 
 offered, was transferred to the victims; who, thus 
 bearing the punishment of the sins, made expiation 
 for them, by which the sinner was brought into a 
 state of acceptance with God. Nor was this notion 
 confined to the Jews, since w^e find that it obtained 
 equally among the Gentiles. As an illustration of 
 the view taken of the peculiar efficacy of animal sa- 
 crifice, we have the following passage from the book 
 of Leviticus, where it is connected with the prohibi- 
 tion of the use of blood, and indeed is given as the 
 reason of that restriction — " For the life of the flesh is 
 in the blood : and I have given it to you upon the 
 altar, to make atonement for your souls : for it is the 
 blood that maketh an atonement for the soul." With 
 this connect St. Paul, "and without shedding of 
 blood is no remission," and we thus obtain a suffi- 
 ciently clear notion of the object for which animals 
 were sacrificed ; namely, to procure remission of sin. 
 And this view might be abundantly confirmed by 
 citations from other parts of the Pentateuch, where 
 the institution of sacrifices is treated of. 
 
 Moreover, from finding, in the New Testament, 
 
THE LAIVIB OF GOD. 21 
 
 the same sacrificial terms applied to Christ, and the 
 death of Christ, that we find applied to the sacrifices 
 "under the Law; and from the express comparison 
 which we find instituted between the former and the 
 latter, by St. Paul, in the Epistle to the Hebrev/s, 
 we are led to the conclusion, that the sacrifices of 
 the Mosaic dispensation, although doubtless for the 
 time being available to the remission of sin, yet, at 
 the best, were but shadows and types of that one 
 great sacrifice, which our Lord Jesus Christ, on the 
 Cross, offered up once for all; namely, His own life, 
 for the life of the world. And so, in one respect, the 
 sacrifices of the old, were similar to the sacrament of 
 the Lord's Supper, under the new, covenant. The 
 latter, as a commemorative sacrifice, shows forth the 
 Lord's death until his second coming; the former 
 represented and shadowed forth that death until He 
 had taken human nature upon Him, and, being found 
 in the fashion of a man, was obedient to the death of 
 the Cross. The typical character of the old sacri- 
 fices may be farther proved and illustrated, from the 
 wonderful analogy found to exist between them and 
 the great sacrifice of Christ. Especially consider 
 the institution of the Paschal Lamb, and observe 
 how strongly and evidently it refers to the Lamb of 
 God. The Lamb of the Passover was to be without 
 spot or blemish; care was to be taken that not a 
 bone of him was to be broken ; and he was to be slain 
 on the fourteenth day of the month, at the first even- 
 ing; that is at the Jewish ninth, and at our third 
 (afternoon) hour. Now, note the wonderful analogy. 
 Christ, by the immaculate conception, and by his 
 
22 THE LAMB OF GOD. 
 
 holy life, was without moral spot or blemish ; he died 
 on the same day of the month, and on the same hour 
 of the day, on which the Paschal Lamb was slain; 
 and, contrary to custom, not a bone of Him was bro- 
 ken. Add to all this, St. Paul, in the first Epistle 
 to the Corinthians, expressly terms Him, "Christ 
 our Passover," or Paschal Lamb, "sacrificed for us." 
 Thus much for the explanation of the term "Lamb 
 of God;" by which we understand, that Christ is to 
 the world, only in a far higher sense, what these ya- 
 rious sacrifices of the Lamb were to those under the 
 Law. What our blessed Lord was to the world, or, 
 rather, in what sense he was a sacrifice for the world, 
 we shall presently see, in the unfolding of that other 
 phrase in the text, which was to receive particular 
 explanation, namely, "taketh away the sin of the 
 world." 
 
 What then, are we to understand by these words? 
 Some explain them of Christ's reforming men by His 
 holy example and spotless life. But, alas ! who can 
 say tliat the world follows the Lamb whithersoever 
 he goeth? Others again would see in them an allu- 
 sion to that inward and spiritual effect of the blood 
 of Christ upon the conscience, the purifying it from 
 dead works, the cleansing of the moral nature from 
 the pollution and corruption of sin. But, although 
 these are effects, and I may say the great effiects, of 
 the death of Christ, yet these are not so much alluded 
 to here. The taking away of sin, is evidently some- 
 thing which Christ does, not in the lives, or moral 
 natures of those — alas, how few ! — who are constant- 
 ly crucified with Him, who are daily rising with 
 
THE LAMB OF GOD. 23 
 
 Him, and who will one day rise to Him, to be for- 
 ever with Him; but is rather something which 
 Christ did once for all, for all who had ever lived, 
 for all who were to live, for the whole family of Adam. 
 This phrase, taking or bearing sin, is applied in the 
 Old Testament scriptures, to animals bearing the sins 
 of those offering them up, to children bearing their 
 fathers' sins, and to persons bearing their own sins ; 
 all of which expressions, evidently mean, bearing or 
 suffering the punishment of sins. Now, we find the 
 same phrases applied to Christ, in the Scriptures, 
 both in the Old and New Testament. Thus in 
 Isaiah, it is said, that Christ has borne our griefs, 
 was wounded for our transgressions, was bruised for 
 our iniquities ; that the Lord hath laid on Him the 
 iniquity of us all, and that he bears the sin of many : 
 and, in various portions of the New Testament, 
 we are told, that Christ "bore our sins in His own 
 body; that He was ''made sin," that is, a sin offer- 
 ing, for us; that He was "once offered to bear the 
 sins of many;" and that He "suffered once for sin, 
 the Just for the unjust, that He might bring us 
 to God," with many like phrases and expressions. 
 And, having compared all these things, v/e may 
 clearly gather that the phrase, taking away the sin of 
 the world, means that our blessed Lord, in His cross 
 and passion and precious death, bore the punishment 
 of the sins of the whole world, and thus put all the 
 world in a state of salvability ; made it possible for 
 every man to be saved, reconciled the whole world to 
 God. With these explanations and illustrations from 
 Scripture, we may clearly perceive the meaning of 
 
24 THE LAMB OF GOD. 
 
 our text. John the Baptist, seeing Jesus coming, 
 says to his disciples. This is He of whom I have 
 preached to you; this is He for whom, for whose 
 coming and Kingdom, I have called you, and prepared 
 you. Behold Him! not a frail creature, but the 
 Lamb of God ; offered up not daily, for the sins of a 
 single nation; but, once for all, expiating by his pre- 
 cious blood the sins of the whole world. 
 
 This great and blessed truth has, nevertheless, 
 been the subject of much doubt, cavilling and specu- 
 lation. Men have been found so bold and rash, as to 
 object to it the manifest injustice of making an in- 
 nocent being suffer for the sins of the guilty. Others, 
 there have been, who, obliged to receive the atone- 
 ment as a truth contained in the word of God, have 
 rashly dared to account for it, to penetrate into the 
 inmost counsels of the Most High, and to discover, 
 as they vainly imagined, all the reasons that made it 
 necessary for the Eternal Son to become incarnate, 
 and to die, and the mode in which His precious death 
 has reconciled the world to God. 
 
 Was it then, unjust in the Father to lay upon the 
 Son the iniquities of us all? Brethren, instead of 
 directly answering this question, I bid you to look 
 abroad in the world. Do we not constantly see some 
 men suffering for the sins of others? Children under- 
 going, in a certain sense, the penalty of the vices and 
 follies of their parents ? And if this objection is good, 
 against the death of our blessed Lord, remember, that 
 it may be shovvii that the same injustice (if it be) 
 exists in the established order of things in the world. 
 But how do men generally regard vicarious suffer- 
 
THE LA!\IB OF GOD. 25 
 
 iugs, that is to say, sufferings voluntarily undergone 
 in behalf of another? The pale mother wastes her 
 life and health, in the support of her lielpless off- 
 spring; the wife is found willing to snatch her hus- 
 band from the remorseless grave, at the cost of her 
 own life ; in behalf of his friend, he is found who 
 will even dare to die; a Howard counts not his life 
 dear to himself, so he may rescue from misery and 
 degradation the guilty inmates of the prison; yea, 
 even the unreasoning brute has often been, whose 
 strong affection poured her life forth for her little ones ; 
 and men are lost in admiration, and there is not a 
 heart that does not thrill with generous emotion, at the 
 recital of such noble self-sacrifices. But from God, 
 commending His love towards us, "in that while we 
 were yet sinners Christ died for us," men turn coldly 
 away, and talk about the injustice of causing or even 
 allowing the innocent to suffer for the guilty. It is 
 indeed awful, to hear sinners and rebels, amid the 
 gloom of Calvary, the rending veil, and the quaking- 
 rock, calling for justice, and cavilling about those 
 sufferings which, they themselves have inflicted upon 
 the Son of God. Woe to them in that day, when 
 meek Mercy leaves the judgment seat, and stern Jus- 
 tice takes her place ! Woe to them in that day, when 
 they shall stand up to receive according to the deeds 
 done in the body! Woe to them in that day, when 
 they must appear before the just God, and bear 
 every man his own sins! But, let it be remembered, 
 in answer to this objection, that the sufferings of our 
 blessed Lord were perfectly voluntary. When sacri- 
 fices and burnt offerings were no longer acceptable at 
 
26 THE LAMB OF GOD. 
 
 the throne of the universe, there came a voice from the 
 eternal Word, "Lo, I come: in the volume of the 
 book it is written of me, I delight to do thy will, 
 my God; yea, thy law is within my heart." Yea, 
 and at the last moment. He could have remounted to 
 the bosom of His Father, and left us unredeemed. 
 "Thinkest thou that I cannot now pray to my 
 Father, and he shall presently give me more than 
 twelve legions of angels? But how then shall the 
 Scriptures be fulfilled, that thus it must be?" 
 
 Others, again, will ask, why not forgive without a 
 sacrifice? Why not admit to favour and pardon 
 upon sincere repentance? The man who asks such 
 questions, can have no adequate conception of the 
 exceeding sinfulness of sin; can know but little of 
 the misery and desolation which it has introduced 
 into the moral and physical world. When he re- 
 members that by sin death entered into the world, 
 and that ''death passed upon all men, for that 
 all have sinned;" that a single transgression occa- 
 sioned all the agonies that have racked the human 
 frame, and made this earth a sepulchre ; he will cease 
 to wonder that the price of our redemption, from 
 such a curse, was the blood of the Son of God. Be- 
 sides, do we find repentance sufficient to restore 
 health to the diseased profligate? His squandered 
 estate to the prodigal? To avert the just punish- 
 ments from the offenders against human laws ? The 
 man who has lost his health and strength in vicious 
 courses always repents; but he recovers them not 
 for all that ! The spendthrift starves ; but his tears 
 do not bring back his wasted substance. No cry of 
 
THE LAMB OF GOD. 27 
 
 terror rescues from merited punishment the little of- 
 fender against the peace and good order of the house- 
 hold or the school. No late repentance deprives the 
 gibbet of its victim, or unlocks the iron-bound door 
 of the prison house. And so men expect from God, 
 what they do not ask from, or give to, each other. 
 Repentance is no expiation for crimes against man ! 
 Why, then, should it suffice to atone for offences com- 
 mitted against the King of kings, and Lord of lords? 
 We shall find upon reflection that God deals more 
 mercifully, and kindly with us, than we deal with 
 each other. Over all human tribunals is written, 
 "an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth;" while 
 over the throne of God is inscribed, "this is a faith- 
 ful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ 
 Jesus came into the world to save sinners." 
 
 Why, then, was the sacrifice of Christ necessary ? 
 And how did it avail to our reconciliation to God? 
 Answers to these questions cannot be given. There 
 is a depth in this awful subject, which no human 
 understanding can penetrate : and we may well be- 
 lieve that the highest Archangel shrinks from it, in 
 amazement at Divine condescension. Divine wisdom, 
 and Divine love. There are, however, those who pro- 
 fess to explain it fully; to show the perfect conform- 
 ity of the plan to our notions of right; and to render 
 the preaching of the Cross no longer "foolishness," 
 even to the wise, and the disputer, of this world. 
 Some, while they admit the reality of the fact of the 
 death of Christ under the notion of an expiation, ex- 
 plain that sad event rather as a mere manifestation of 
 God's hatred of sin, than as a real atoning sacrifice. 
 
28 THE LAMB OF GOD. 
 
 They speak of it as if it was necessary that the precious 
 blood of the Lamb of God should be poured out, be- 
 fore God could look upon the race of man with love 
 and mercy. Beware of these, and similar views. 
 There is an awful, and, to us, impenetrable, mystery 
 which shrouds the humanity, the death, and sacri- 
 fice of Christ. One thing we do know, that that 
 must have been a great necessity, which brought the 
 Son from the bosom of the Father; detained him 
 here for years, in mortal guise, and low estate; and 
 at last led Him to a painful and ignominious death. 
 But while you admit the reality, and the necessity, 
 of this mysterious sacrifice, beware, too, of forming, 
 in connection with it, notions derogatory to the good- 
 ness of God. Necessary as that sacrifice must have 
 been, it is only the second link in that golden chain 
 of redemption, which has been let down from the 
 regions of light, and purity, and blessedness, to draw 
 thither the poor, lost race of Adam. There is yet 
 one above it, which binds it to the throne of the 
 Eternal. It is the love of God. Our blessed Lord 
 did not die for us, because God hated us. Oh no! 
 '* God so loved the world, that He gave his only be- 
 gotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should 
 not perish, but have everlasting life." No sooner 
 had man fallen, than God announced a Deliverer. 
 At that same ineffable council of the mysterious 
 Three, at which it was decreed, "let us make man in 
 our image;" was promulgated the gracious purpose, 
 "let us create him anew in the image of God." 
 God is love; and, by the death and sacrifice of our 
 blessed Lord, commendeth his love towards us, "in 
 
THE LAMB OF GOD. 29 
 
 that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." 
 Beloved brethren, if you are ever tempted, by the 
 spirit of lies, to doubt, or to cavil at, or to frame vain 
 theories about, this truth ; go at once under the awful 
 shadow of the Cross, look up at the pale, meek suf- 
 ferer, writhing in agony upon the accursed tree, and 
 realize that you have pierced those quivering hands 
 and feet; that your sins "gave sharpness to the nail, 
 and pointed every thorn:" and thus doubts, and 
 cavils, and exceptions, will be lost, in profound sor- 
 row, for the share that you had in nailing Him to 
 the Cross, and in overflowing gratitude for the amaz- 
 ing love of God. 
 
 Brethren, the text points us to the Cross of Christ. 
 To the Cross, I bid you all look, and be healed. 
 " Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the 
 sins of the world!" Let the profane, the drunkard, 
 the profligate, the careless, the worldly-minded, all 
 who are living in wilful and habitual sin, all who are 
 not living to the glory of God, behold their crucified 
 Redeemer. To them the Cross is a fearful sight; 
 fearful, on account of the great hatred for sin mani- 
 fested by it. Learn from it, that there is no such 
 thing as sinning upon easy terms. You often say, 
 that it seems very hard that God should punish, 
 throughout eternity, the sins committed during a 
 few brief years. It may be, if Christ had not died 
 for the ungodly, that this complaint might have been 
 made, with some show of justice. But when you 
 remember that you were redeemed by the humilia- 
 tion, sufferings and death of the eternal Son of God, 
 you will cease to wonder that God punishes, so fear- 
 
30 THE LAMB OF GOD. 
 
 fully, those who count that blood of the covenant, 
 wherewith they were sanctified, an unholy thing. 
 Dear brethren, how can you escape, if you neglect 
 this great salvation ? 
 
 And let those whose consciences are burdened 
 with nnforgiven sins, "behold the Lamb of God!" 
 Our Saviour is still ready to take away your sins. 
 Only beware of substituting, as a ground of hope, 
 that which our blessed Lord did for you, and for all 
 men, for that which must be done by Him, in you. 
 Vainly, for you, was the Cross set up on Calvary, 
 unless it is set up in your own hearts. Christ is not 
 the minister of sin. I use this caution, because it is 
 to be feared that many persons entertain the notion, 
 that they may go on committing what they are 
 pleased to term lesser sins; and then, at the last, be in 
 some way saved by the blood of Christ. But Christ, 
 let it be remembered, "gave himself up for us, that 
 he might redeem us from all iniquity^ and purify 
 unto himself a peculiar people, zealous of good 
 works." If you earnestly desire to forsake your sins 
 — every thing wrong — and to do, and to be, in body, 
 soul and spirit, perfectly right, then not in vain may 
 you look to the Lamb of God for pardon; for He is 
 faithful and just not only to forgive you your sins, 
 but also to do that, without which forgiveness would 
 be but a poor gift, to cleanse you from all unrighteous- 
 ness. Christian, ever "behold the Lamb of God." 
 "When you rise, the Cross; when you lie down, the 
 Cross ; in your thoughts, the Cross ; in your studies, 
 the Cross; every where, and at every time, the Cross, 
 shining more glorious than the sun." When, through 
 

 THE LAMB OF GOD. 31 
 
 frailty, or want of due vigilance, you are seduced 
 into momentary sin, then behold the Lamb of God, 
 ready to take it away; the Lamb of God, your Advo- 
 cate with the Father, your undying intercessor, un- 
 changing in his compassion and pity for poor, lost 
 human nature, and for you — "Jesus Christ, the same 
 yesterday, to-day, and forever." And when the last 
 agonies of death come over you, and, amid the sor- 
 rows of parting from the beloved of your heart, and 
 the fear which too often shades that awful moment, 
 the follies and sins of your past life sweep before the 
 closing eye, in a sad and gloomy train; and, though 
 repented of, and washed away in the blood of the 
 Lamb, yet weigh once again heavily upon the 
 shrinking soul; then, behold, to your unspeakable 
 comfort, the Lamb of God, taking away the sin of 
 the world — yea, those very sins which accuse you — 
 and, in peace, and in hope, enter into the paradise of 
 your reconciled God. 
 
SERMON III. 
 
 THE CHURCH OF THE LIVING GOD. 
 
 The Church of the living God, the pillar and ground of the truth, 
 
 1 Timothy, iii. 15. 
 
 It must often strike the careful reader of Holy Scrip- 
 ture, that certain portions have been dictated by the 
 Holy Spirit, who knoweth all things, not only with 
 reference to the general wants of mankind, but also 
 to meet the necessities of particular states of things, 
 through which he knew that certain generations of 
 men would pass. This remark seems especially ap- 
 plicable to the words under consideration. It should 
 seem, that when the blessed Apostle Saint Paul de- 
 scribed "the Church of the living God," as "the pil- 
 lar and ground of the truth," he, with prophetic eye, 
 looked forward to times, when there would be multi- 
 tudes rising up and saying, "lo! here is Christ, and 
 lo there is Christ;" " I am of Paul, and I of Cephas, 
 and I of Apollos;" this is truth, that is truth; or 
 truth is a matter of indifference, provided the affec- 
 tions be only right : when there would be multitudes 
 asking, with Pilate, " what is truth?" to whom delu- 
 sive answers would be given ; and when the one way 
 marked out by Christ, would be almost the last way 
 thought of by vain and conceited men. I say, it 
 should seem, that these words were kindly written 
 for our own times ; to recall us from the tangled and 
 
THE CHURCH OF THE LIVING GOD. §3 
 
 devious paths of error and doubt, into which our feet 
 have wandered ; to break in, with the tone of digni- 
 fied authority, upon our wranglings and disputations ; 
 and to remind us that, notwithstanding our helps for 
 the attainment of the truth; our learning, our phi- 
 losophy, our critical acuteness, and our various gifts ; 
 there is yet "a more excellent way," and that way, 
 " the Church of the living God." My brethren, I 
 cannot doubt that you all earnestly desire the truth ; 
 that knowing the immutability of truth, and that the 
 imaorinations of man cannot make things different 
 from what they really are, it is your earnest wish to 
 be led into all truth ; that you would think of God 
 as He really is, and not as He may be in the fancies 
 of different men ; that you would walk to heaven 
 in the way actually marked out by your blessed 
 Redeemer, and not in paths opened without author- 
 ity, and ending we know not where. If these 
 things be so, dear brethren ; if you do honestly prefer 
 to know things as theij really are, rather than as you 
 would have them, I earnestly beg your attention, for 
 a few moments, to what is too apt to be considered a 
 dull and unprofitable subject. I know that most of 
 you prefer those subjects which seem to have a more 
 particular bearing upon one's own salvation and 
 spiritual well-being: but, before this discourse is 
 ended, it is hoped that you will each see, that you 
 have a personal interest in the topic which we are 
 about to consider. Besides, the institution to be 
 treated of is not human, but divine, '' the Church of 
 the living God;" and surely, "the body of Christ," 
 " the fulness of Him that filleth all things," can 
 
'M THE CirURCH OF THE LIVING GOD. 
 
 never, or ought never to be a dull or an unprofitable 
 theme for the meditations of the children of God. It 
 is true that the present may be regarded as founda- 
 tion work; yet who but a child ever chided the 
 workman, carefully and safely laying the foundations 
 of an edifice, impatient for the more showy and at- 
 tractive superstructure to arise? Without a solid 
 foundation, what building can endure the ravages of 
 time? Remember, dear brethren, that you are not 
 to be long here; yet a few brief years — it may be 
 days — and the long grass will wave above you. And 
 do you not feel heartily desirous, that, when your 
 voices can no longer profess " the faith once deli- 
 vered to the saints," or swell our ancient strains of 
 devotion in these consecrated walls, your children 
 may unfeignedly hold, in righteousness of life, "the 
 truth as it is in Jesus ;" and walk on in those good 
 old paths, in w^hich you are now finding rest for 
 your souls? As you love the truth, as you love 
 your own souls, as you love your children and the 
 coming generations of men, as you love Him who 
 loved you to the death, consider patiently, ^^the 
 Church of the living God ;" and the Church, as ^Hhe 
 pillar and ground of the truths 
 
 The Church spoken of in this text means not the 
 number of religious and devout persons scattered 
 throughout the world, nor yet any particular or na- 
 tional Church, by itself considered. The institution 
 referred to, is that body which in the Apostles' Creed 
 is called "the Holy Catholic Church;" that one great 
 society of faithful men, called out of the world, by 
 Christ, baptized by one Spirit into this one body, 
 
HIE CHURCH OF THE LIVING GOD. 3S 
 
 having one Lord, one faith, one common hope of sal- 
 vation. That there has been such a body, and but 
 one such body, ever since the day of Pentecost, may 
 be abundantly proved from Holy Scripture — "The 
 Lord added to the Church, daily, such as should be 
 saved." Christ is said to be "head over all things 
 to the Church, which is his body, the fulness of Him 
 that lilleth all in all." Christ is also said to have 
 "loved the Church, and to have given himself for it." 
 We hear, too, of the Church of God, "purchased with 
 his own blood;" and, before his passion, we meet 
 with rich promises to the Church, which was after- 
 wards to be built. From these, and many like pas- 
 sages, we cannot doubt but that our blessed Lord de- 
 signed to institute, and that the holy Apostles ac- 
 tually did found, a peculiar establishment, known in 
 their days as the Church ; a body which is spoken of 
 every where as a body by itself, at unity with itself, 
 yet spreading into all nations; a body which was 
 constituted in such a way, that there was none other 
 like it in the wide world. In the Apostles' days, let 
 it be noted, there was but one Church — tlie Church; 
 and that Church not organized or commanded by 
 man, but "the Church of the living God." And it 
 is still so ; still there can be but o)ie body rightfully 
 claiming to be the body of Christ, for Christ is not 
 divided. But as, alas ! there are multitudes about us, 
 who have departed from what was always deemed 
 the Church of Christ, and who, nevertheless, still 
 continue to claim a part in the mystical body; it be- 
 comes necessary to ascertain what the marks of the 
 true Church of Christ are, that we may know whe- 
 
36 THE CHURCH OF THE LIVING GOD. 
 
 ther we are indeed members of Him, through that 
 divine ordinance by which he still publishes truth, 
 and pours grace into this false and fallen world. 
 
 The Church of Christ may simply be defined to be, 
 that body of faithful men, who, being baptized, and 
 so admitted into the Church, continue steadfastly in 
 the Apostles' doctrine, and fellowship, and in hreaking 
 of bread, and in prayers. These are the marks by 
 which the Church of Christ may be known. Every 
 body bearing these marks is a true branch of the 
 Catholic Church. Every body not bearing these 
 marks, no matter how pious and exemplary the lives 
 of those of whom it is composed, cannot, consistently 
 with truth, be regarded as possessed of that precious 
 privilege, membership with Christ as a part of his 
 body. The Church of Christ continues in the Apos- 
 tles' doctrine: that is, does not merely believe the 
 writings of the Apostles extant to be canonical Scrip- 
 tures, or receive the Scriptures as the Word of God, 
 but continues in that " faith, once " for all "delivered" 
 by the Apostles to the Church; that "form of sound 
 words containing the great Catholic verities," which 
 was promulgated, and heartily believed, long before 
 the Scriptures of the New Testament were written. 
 The Church also continues in the Apostles' fellowship. 
 But how can that be; how can we of the present 
 age, have fellowship with the Apostles, who have 
 long since entered into their rest? Turn to the last 
 chapter of the Gospel of St. Matthew, and peruse 
 the last commission which our blessed Lord gave to 
 his Apostles, and you will see that in some way, 
 they, the Apostles, were to be continued to the end 
 
THE CHURCH OF THE LIVING GOD. 37 
 
 of the world ; for Christ having commanded them to 
 go, and make disciples of all nations, by baptizing 
 them in the name of the ever blessed Trinity, adds 
 this comforting promise, "Lo I am with you alway, 
 even unto the end of the world." So, then, the 
 Apostles are to be with us to the end of the world. 
 But how ? Plainly, by succession. You know, bre- 
 thren, that many societies, founded hundreds of years 
 ago, are still said to exist amongst us, although the 
 original members have long since deceased, simply 
 because, from time to time, persons have been ad- 
 mitted to their fellowship, by those having the right 
 of giving admission, being themselves members ; and 
 the societies have thus been perpetuated to our day, 
 and are said to be still the same society. Just so 
 with the Apostles; they, as we know, from sacred 
 history, elected and consecrated successors, such as 
 Matthias, and Barnabas, and Titus, and Timothy, 
 who were to commit the same trust to "faithful men, 
 who should be able to teach others also." Which, 
 from the universal consent of antiquity, we know 
 that they did : and thus the Apostles perpetuated by 
 succession have come down to us, and there is still 
 among us a body of men, communion with whom is 
 necessary to, nay, is actually being in fellowship with 
 the Apostles; a body of men to whom are strictly 
 applicable those solemn words of our Saviour — "He 
 that heareth you, heareth me.'^ The other marks of 
 the true Church are celebrating, giving and receiv- 
 ing the blessed communion of the body and blood of 
 Christ, and uniting constantly in i)rayers offered up 
 by the Apostolical priesthood. Such being the marks 
 
38 THE CHURCH OF THE LIVING GOD. 
 
 of the Church of Christ, it is now proper to ask, what 
 is that Apostolical doctrine, and that Apostolical min- 
 istry, the reception and profession of which, are es- 
 sential to the being of the Church ; and how may we 
 ascertain them? I answer those great truths con- 
 tained in the Apostles' Creed. The Trinity, the In- 
 carnation, the Atonement, the presence of the Holy 
 Ghost with the Church, which have been professed 
 from the beginning; and Episcopacy, that is, the 
 threefold ministry, with the governing and ordaining 
 power in the order of Bishops, who succeed and re- 
 present the Apostles. That this doctrine, that this 
 ministry, have ever been considered essentials of the 
 Church of Christ, we know from all the writings of 
 all the early fathers, from the canons of all the early 
 councils, provincial and general, and from all the 
 early liturgies which have come down to our time. 
 Perhaps some of you will regard this as a very narrow 
 definition of the Church: but upon investigation you 
 will find that the Church so defined includes nine- 
 teen twentieths of those who profess and call them- 
 selves Christians. All other definitions either make 
 all truth a matter of indifference, admit the power of 
 men to make a Church, and to constitute, without 
 direct authority from Him, ambassadors of the Most 
 High God ; or else, exclude from Christ's mystical 
 body, Churches planted by the Apostles, and watered 
 by the blood of the first martyrs. Thus one set of 
 men, look upon the deniers of our Lord's divinity, 
 and those who have given up both sacraments and. 
 the Apostolical ministry, as alike members of the 
 Church, with those who pursue an entirely opposite 
 
THE CHURCH OF THE LIVING GOD. 39 
 
 course; while another body, unheard of in primi- 
 tive times, would exclude from the Church all who 
 will not adopt one particular mode of Baptism, or 
 keep back from the Saviour, those little children, 
 whom He especially invited, nay, entreated to be 
 brought to Him : thus unchurching all the old branch- 
 es of the Catholic Church ; and indeed, unchurching 
 themselves, and virtually destroying the Church of 
 Christ. Since, if their premises be true, the Church 
 long ago ceased to exist; and the parting promise of 
 our blessed Master has not been redeemed. In op- 
 position to both these notions, Ave scripturally define 
 the Church as that body, catholic in time and place, 
 composed of various national or particular Churches, 
 which retains the Apostolical doctrine, ministry, 
 sacraments and prayers. And if any do not like this 
 definition, or by it, feel themselves excluded from 
 the Church of the living God, let them remember 
 that the definition is not human. We must receive 
 the Church as we find it established by God ; not as 
 men would make it. Brethren, man did not make 
 the Church, but the living God ; man did not estab- 
 lish the Apostolical ministry; but He, who as one hav- 
 ing authority, said to his Apostles, "as my Father 
 sent me, even so send I you." " Lo, I am with you 
 always, even unto the end of the world." If any one 
 does feel, that, this definition of the Church being cor- 
 rect, he is not a member of it, he is entreated to ex- 
 amine the subject candidly for himself, instead of 
 getting at once into a hostile position; and to ask the 
 many undertaking to preach the Gospel and to ad- 
 minister the Holy Sacrament — where did you get 
 
40 THE CHURCH OF THE LIVING GOD. 
 
 your authority? How do I know that I do receive? 
 valid sacraments at your hands? In hearing- you, 
 do I indeed hear the Lord ; or, am I incurring guilt 
 in attending to you, while I am despising those 
 whom He has actually sent? 
 
 The Church thus being defined, I wish to call your 
 attention to a particular office of the Church. I 
 have not attempted thus far to define the positions laid 
 down; as they have been advanced rather as expla- 
 nations, and as introducing to another branch of the 
 subject. Moreover, the positions taken are Catholic ; 
 and have been abundantly established, by the labours 
 of the eloquent, and the learned. I wish you to con- 
 sider the universal Church, administered under an 
 external and visible form of government, as a pillar 
 upon a basis, which has supported and perpetuated — 
 which upholds and continues to our day, which will 
 support and perpetuate forever — that system of truth, 
 and those institutions, which taken together, make 
 up what we term the Gospel. Let us ascertain how 
 the Church is the pillar and ground of the Truth. 
 
 The truth was first committed to the Church. It 
 may be that many imagine that the truth, was not 
 all delivered at the first formation of the Church; but 
 from time to time, brought forward, as successive 
 portions of the New Testament were composed. 
 That this was not the case, we have the indirect 
 testimony of those very Scriptures, which very fre- 
 quently speak of divine truth in such a way as to lead 
 us to the inevitable conclusion, that long before any 
 of those books were written, the Church was in full 
 and entire possession of " the truth as it is in Jesus." 
 
THE CHURCH OF THE LIVING GOD. 41 
 
 Thus, Jucle exhorts Christians to contend earnestly 
 for "the faith once" (for all) "delivered to the saints." 
 St. John, in his epistles, alludes to the great body of 
 Christian doctrine, as no new thing, but an "old tra- 
 dition, which they had had from the beginning," and 
 charges the faithful to make the apostolic doctrine a 
 test of the reality of pretention to spiritual gifts; re- 
 minding them that he does not write unto them be- 
 cause they know not the truth, but because they 
 know it: just as St. Peter and the other sacred wri- 
 ters inform the persons whom they address, that they 
 do not write to reveal some new thing, but rather to 
 stir up the pure minds of the members of the Church, 
 by way of remembrance, and that they might know 
 the certainty, that is, be confirmed in the belief of 
 the certainty, of those things, wherein they had been 
 catechized. How plainly does St, Paul, in his epis- 
 tles to Timothy and Titus, speak of the doctrine as 
 a thing w^ell known and established, and which had 
 been delivered to them at their consecration, to pub- 
 lish to the flocks, and to hand down to coming time! 
 To this effect are such injunctions as these, "hold fast 
 the form of sound words which thou hast heard of 
 me;" "that good thing which was committed unto 
 thee, keep by the Holy Ghost which dwelleth in us." 
 Similar to which is the declaration in his Epistle to 
 the Church of Rome; "ye have obeyed from the 
 heart that form of doctrine which was delivered to 
 you." To confirm this application of Scripture, we 
 have the testimony of Ireneeus, Bishop of Lyons, who 
 suffered martyrdom, in A. D. 202, who thus writes, 
 
 "we ought not to be still seeking among others for 
 6 
 
42 THE CHURCH OF THE LIVING GOD. 
 
 the truth, which it is easy to receive from the Church; 
 since therein the Apostles did most abundantly lodge 
 all things appertaining to the truth, so that whoso- 
 ever will, may receive from /zer the waters of life. 
 And what if the Apostles themselves, had left us no 
 Scriptures? Ought we not to follow the course of 
 tradition, such as they delivered it to those whom 
 they entrusted with the Churches? Which rule is 
 followed by many nations of the barbarians ; those, I 
 mean, who believe in Christ, without paper or ink, 
 having salvation written in their hearts, by the 
 Spirit, diligently keeping the old tradition." From 
 all which w^e gather, that the Church, on her birth- 
 day, the day of Pentecost, was in full possession of 
 Gospel truth; that this truth, in a form of sound 
 words, was committed to all converts, and solemnly 
 entrusted to the Bishops, as a deposite to be reverent- 
 ly kept by them, and so transmitted through the 
 Church, to lost men, unto the end of the world. Yet, 
 how different is this plain scriptural view of the case, 
 from what we are apt to imagine ; and how very dif- 
 ferent is the office of Holy Scripture, from what is 
 but too commonly thought! But what reasonable 
 man can suppose that our blessed Lord committed 
 the Gospel to the fluctuations of popular opinion, and 
 the caprices of individuals, rather than to a well dis- 
 ciplined, divinely governed body, whose business it 
 should be to hold the truth in trust, to witness it, 
 support it, and publish it to the nations? But, what- 
 ever may be the opinion of men of our times, the 
 just testimony of Holy Scripture and ancient authors 
 runs wholly one way; the Apostles were to make 
 
THE CHURCH OF THE LIVING GOD. 43 
 
 disciples of all men teaching them the doctrine of 
 Christ; divine orders were set in the mystical body, 
 to bring all into the unity of the faith ; the Church, 
 *' the Church of the living God," was made, from the 
 very beginning, "the pillar and ground of the truth." 
 The Church is likewise the pillar and ground of 
 the truth, in that she received and examined, at- 
 tested and preserves the Holy Scriptures. This is 
 an exceedingly important branch of our subject, and 
 one of the deepest interest to every Christian. You 
 know that after the apostolic age there were circu- 
 lated numbers of spurious writings, purporting to be 
 the works of the Apostles and Evangelists ; and now, 
 how may we know that we have the true writings of 
 inspired men, or that none of the inspired books have 
 been excluded from the sacred book ? And were it 
 not for the Church, it would be difficult to answer 
 these questions satisfactorily. True, there are other 
 modes of proving the genuineness and authenticity of 
 the several portions of the New Testament : but these 
 modes would be insufficient, without the Church. 
 The learned could indeed carefully examine the style 
 of the writer, and, mastering the internal evidence, 
 in some degree satisfy himself But what is the 
 unlettered Christian to do? Is he to receive the 
 Scriptures as true upon the reasoning of fallible man, 
 which he cannot investigate for himself? How few 
 there are who are able properly to examine such a 
 subject. And when we remember the difference of 
 human opinion, and the fallibility of human judgment, 
 we should in some sort tremble for the evidences of 
 the Bible. But if the witness of the Catholic Church 
 
44 THE CHURCH OF THE LIVING GOD. 
 
 be received, then we have no farther difficnlty. I 
 am then asked by a private Christian, how do w^c 
 know that we have the genuine books of Scripture? 
 I answer, that at the time of the writing of the Scrip- 
 tures, there was a divinely constituted body in the 
 world, with whom the truth was entrusted : when 
 from time to time these writings came out, this body, 
 the Church, tried them by the test of the Apostolic 
 doctrine whether they were of God; knowing that 
 if they contained any other doctrine, or any other 
 Gospel, then came they not from men moved by the 
 Holy Ghost. Then, having in other ways, too, as- 
 certained their genuineness, the Church received 
 them as canonical books tried and approved by her, 
 and handed down her testimony to this effect from 
 generation to generation : and so, because in all 
 branches of the Church, in all time, and by all her 
 Pastors and Laity, these books have been received 
 as canonical, therefore we receive them as such. 
 Thus, every private Christian can say, when a doubt 
 is expressed as to the genuineness or authenticity of 
 any particular book, it has always been received by 
 the Church, and therefore I receive it with unfeigned 
 faith, knowing that the Church is the divine ordi- 
 nance for the diffusion and perpetuation of divine 
 truth. And, humanly speaking, if it had not been 
 for the pillar, where would now have been the bless- 
 ed Bible? Imperial rage would have destroyed, pes- 
 tilent heresy would have adulterated, the word of 
 God. But as it is, how high upon its firm founda- 
 tion, that book has been preserved to the world; 
 while round the rock-founded pillar have vainly 
 
THE CHURCH OF THE LIVING GOD. 45 
 
 blazed the fires of pagan persecution, and bj it 
 for eighteen centuries has swept the ceaseless tide 
 of time! It is, Christian brethren, because there 
 was a body in the world, qualified and authorized to 
 try the sacred books by a sure test; because that 
 same body, by succession, being perpetuated to our 
 age has in the same way perpetuated that testimony, 
 that you can go this day to your closets; and, free 
 from doubt, and without the tedious preliminary of 
 a controversial investigation, open a book, which you 
 know to be the word of the Most High God. 
 
 Moreover, the Church is the pillar and ground of 
 the truth, in that she has, from the beginning, main- 
 tained and promulgated the great truths of the Gos- 
 pel. That is, the Apostolical doctrines, and Church 
 rules, which in the first age she received, she has 
 ever since held and proclaimed in the creeds and 
 liturgies, and in the canons of general, national, and 
 provincial Councils. Is this assertion denied ? Point 
 then to the time when the Church has ever denied, 
 or ceased to hold the doctrine of the Trinity, the In- 
 carnation, Christ's sacrifice for sin, the sanctifying 
 gifts of the Spirit, or the sacraments of Baptism and 
 the Holy Communion, the rite of Confirmation, and 
 the threefold order in the ministry; all fundamentals 
 of Catholic doctrine and discipline. And, although 
 certain branches of the Catholic Church have added 
 to these necessary things human notions and cor- 
 ruptions, yet in the darkest days the Gos[)el light 
 gleamed, though too feebly, upon the altar; although 
 the court without the temple was for a long season giv- 
 en up to the Gentiles, that is, to men of worldly prin- 
 
46 THE CHURCH OF THE LIVING GOD. 
 
 ciples, to be trodden under their feet, and, alas, is not 
 yet freed from the pollution, yet the inner temple, 
 and the altar, and they that worship therein, were 
 measured by the Angel : and, when we read of the 
 worldly priesthood and the unholy people, the irre- 
 ligion, the superstition, the bigotry which disgraced 
 some portions of the Church, we must remember 
 that in those very Churches there were hundreds 
 and thousands who grew silently up into Christ; of- 
 fered a true spiritual worship on the guarded altar 
 of the mystic temple; by a holy life and conversa- 
 tion, witnessed Christ's truth to a most corrupt world; 
 died in the true faith of the Gospel ; and are now in 
 the Paradise of God. 
 
 But we are asked, what is the necessity of such a 
 transmission of the fundamentals? We have the Scrip- 
 tures, and in and by them alone the great truths have 
 been handed down. Most unquestionably, those great 
 matters of doctrine and discipline but just now enu- 
 merated, may be fairly proved from Scripture, and 
 collected from them. But the question is, whether 
 they would have been so collected, proved and 
 thought out, unless they had been previously given 
 to the Church, to be transmitted with the Scriptures, 
 as keys to the due understanding of the same. Nor 
 let me be thought by so saying to disparage Scrip- 
 ture, or to cast a shadow of doubt upon those great 
 truths. I should not be thought (to borrow an illus- 
 tration from one who has done much to illustrate 
 this branch of our subject) to disparage the works of 
 God, or shake the foundation of our faith in natural 
 religion, were T to assert " that the power and God- 
 
THE CHURCH OF THE LIVING GOD. 47 
 
 head of the Creator, although unquestionably prove- 
 able from the things which are made, would yet have 
 remained unknown to the mass of mankind, but for 
 primitive tradition, or subsequent revelation of it." 
 Nor let me be thought to elevate human tradition 
 over the word of God, for if it can be proved that the 
 great doctrines of the Gospel have been in this way 
 handed down in the Church, then we see the hand 
 of God in the Catholic tradition, as much as in the 
 Scriptures themselves; and we no more disparage 
 the Bible, by asserting the necessity of the transmis- 
 sion of fundamentals, in and by the Church, in or- 
 der to a due understanding of its contents, than we 
 do by denying the possibility of perusing Scripture 
 without light of some kind. Tradition is a divine 
 light, by which we are to read and study the word of 
 God. 
 
 Whether it would have been possible for us to have 
 collected the great truths from the Scripture, without 
 the witness of the Church as to what was the apos- 
 tolical doctrine and discipline, is a question which 
 we never can decide ; any more than we can decide 
 whether, without revelation transmitted from the be- 
 ginning, or afterwards made, men could have found 
 out from the visible creation, the power and Godhead 
 of the Creator. And for the same reason : namely, 
 that neither the Church nor the mass of mankind 
 were ever left to make such collection of truth from 
 their own observation. We have abundantly proved 
 in another part of this discourse, that the New Tes- 
 tament Scriptures themselves speak of the truth as 
 something which was perfectly known to the Church 
 
43 THE CHURCH OF THE LIVING GOD. 
 
 from the beginning, and so of course before they 
 were written. Indeed, it should seem that the Scrip- 
 tures were not so much given to reveal the truth, as 
 to preserve it. The Scriptures preserve the faith 
 once delivered to the Church, free from corruption ; 
 and the faith handed down in the Church, throws a 
 steady light on the written word by which it may be 
 understood. And it should seem that it is in this 
 way that the Church has ever used the Scriptures. 
 You know that in the beginning of the fourth cen- 
 tury, the famous Arian heresy made its assault upon 
 the faith; whereupon in the year 325 the first ge- 
 neral council was assembled at Nice, to decide the 
 controversy. And how was this done ? By doing as 
 many do in our day, taking texts of Scripture and 
 disputing about them ? No ; but the assembled Bi- 
 shops delivered a creed containing the doctrine which 
 had been handed down from the Apostles in their 
 respective sees ; which doctrine they then proceeded 
 to prove, confirm, and illustrate, from the Holy Scrip- 
 tures. And this is the true way in which to deal 
 with heresies and opposers of God's truth. Not to 
 take the Bible by itself, as if we had no other aid or 
 help ; but to take the Faith and Discipline as handed 
 down in the Church, and confirm them from the 
 Bible. Thus, some oppose infant Baptism; we know 
 that infant Baptism has always prevailed in the Ca- 
 tholic Church, and this discipline of the Church we 
 can clearly confirm from Scripture. But if we knew 
 nothing of the custom of the Churches of God, we 
 might be unable to prove that it was commanded, 
 although our adversaries would be somewhat puzzled 
 
THE CHURCH OF THE LIVING GOD. 49 
 
 to prove that it was forbidden. Just so with the ob- 
 servance of the Lord's day ! Who can prove from 
 Scripture that it is now our duty to observe the 
 first, instead of the seventh day, as tiie day of rest ? 
 But we know that from the beo-innino; it was so or- 
 dered in the Churcii; and, previously possessing this 
 fact, we find something at least to confirm it in Scrip- 
 ture. Indeed, it seems strange that the Scriptures 
 should have been used, as they have, when we con- 
 sider their nature. I refer, of course, particularly to 
 the New Testament Scriptures. They nowhere 
 contain formal declarations of the whole truth. In 
 many books all-important truths are only incidentally 
 alluded to, as if the writer took it for granted that 
 the persons whom he was addressing, were perfectly 
 familiar with the subjects of his hasty allusions. In 
 some books, certain important truths are not noticed 
 at all ; and it should seem impossible, that the Church, 
 much more individual Christians, could have collected 
 the fundamentals necessary, for instance, to be re- 
 ceived in order to Baptism, without first having 
 obtained them from some other source. At any rate, 
 God has plairdy manifested His will as to the way in 
 which we are to get at truth, in that He has instituted 
 a body which is its pillar and ground ; and which was 
 set up, and on which the truth was founded, before 
 the Scriptures were given. I trust that we now 
 fully understand in what manner the Church is "the 
 pillar and ground of the truth." To recapitulate — the 
 Church, established to receive and perpetuate the 
 truth, at the first received it, and has ever since held 
 and transmitted it for the benefit of man. She also 
 
 7 
 
60 THE CHURCH OF THE LIVING GOD. 
 
 proved and received the Holy Scriptures, and still 
 attests their truth, and illustrates their meaning by a 
 transmission of the Faith once dehvered to her 
 charge. The successive generations of her Pastors 
 have not been set to invent or improve, but to trans- 
 mit: not to kindle strange fires upon the altar, but 
 to pass from hand to hand that true light, which 
 came from heaven; which shone brighter than the 
 persecuting fires of imperial Rome ; which expired 
 not in the murky night of the dark ages, but showed 
 to many a wandering foot the pathway to the Cross ; 
 which has gleamed upon all the fading races of men ; 
 which will shine with increasing lustre unto the 
 dawning of the endless Day — that blessed light of 
 God's truth, which endureth "from generation to 
 generation." 
 
 It may be thought, Christian Brethren, that too ex- 
 alted things have been spoken of the Church; but 
 it is only as she is the city of God. Remember that 
 as the Bible is of God, so is the Church of God. 
 True, her members and ministers are men : so also, 
 men wrote the Holy Scriptures. True, they w^ere 
 moved by the Holy Ghost : and so we are all baptized 
 into the Church, and the Bishops and Pastors are set 
 over the flock, by that same blessed Spirit. With 
 the Church, Christ has ever promised to be present; 
 with her the Comforter is to abide for ever; against 
 her the gates of Hell shall never prevail. She is the 
 fulness of Christ, and the body of Christ. And it is 
 only because she has such promises, privileges and 
 gifts, that she is the pillar and ground of the truth. 
 If we thought of this subject as we ought to do, we 
 
THE CHURCH OF THE LIVING GOD. 51 
 
 should no more fear over-estimating the Church, than 
 we should fear to set too high a value upon the Scrip- 
 tures themselves. Is it possible to set lightly by the 
 body, and yet to value duly the head? No more can 
 we despise or set lightly by the Church, which is 
 Christ's body, and still duly love and reverence Him 
 who is her omnipotent Head. 
 
 I trust that as we have advanced in our stirrino- 
 theme, you have each perceived that you have a per- 
 sonal spiritual interest in it. How are we to be 
 made free, but by the truth? And where may we 
 seek the truth, but upon its pillar and ground? Do 
 you love, do you earnestly desire to know, the truth 
 as it is in Christ? What should you or I do, this 
 day, if we had not the blessed Church of God, to 
 guide us to the truth ? You have not the lime, nor 
 have any of us the qualifications, necessary to enable 
 us to sit down to the Scriptures, and collect the sys- 
 tem of truth there involved. And if there were no 
 Church, if we simply met together as a company of 
 religious people, you would either have to take my 
 word as to what were the fundamental truths of the 
 Bible, and rely upon a fallible mortal for the integri- 
 ty of the faith ; or else you would go to your homes, 
 perplexed and distressed with doubts, hopelessly ask- 
 ing, What is truth? Nay more, when the blessed 
 word of God was read, if read at all, we should be 
 distressed with doubts as to w^hether or not we were 
 reading canonical Scripture. And further, you have 
 children, whom you desire to bring up for God, to 
 whom you desire to read the truth. And if there 
 were no Church, what would you do? Either de- 
 pend upon your own judgment as to what is truth, 
 
52 THE CHURCH OF THE LIVING GOD. 
 
 and as to what truths you would teach them ; or else 
 put that blessed book into their hands, telling them 
 it is the word of God, and they must gather from it 
 what they can. But thanks to Almighty God, it is 
 not so. We have "the faith once delivered to the 
 saints," and in our Master's name, we gather here to 
 attest that which we receive, not as our private opin- 
 ions, but as the teaching of God through his Church. 
 You leach this same faith to your children upon the 
 same authority; and we all, young and old, as did the 
 noble Bereans, v/hen listening to the instructions of an 
 inspired Apostle, while we receive the word upon 
 such authority, with all readiness of mind; may, and 
 ought to search the Scriptures daily, not to make 
 new systems for ourselves, but to see " whether these 
 things are so:" that is, to prove, illustrate, and con- 
 firm that form of doctrine vv^hich was delivered us. 
 And now, have you not a personal, spiritual interest 
 in the Church of the living God, as the pillar and 
 ground of the truth? Does it not interest you to 
 know whether the Saviour to whom you commit 
 your immortal souls, is human or divine? Whether 
 you may bring little ones to the Saviour to be made 
 members of Him? Whether you are breaking God's 
 law in keeping holy the first instead of the seventh 
 day. But yet, upon the testimony of the Church, all 
 certain knowledge of these things depends. And 
 here, it will be well to ask, whether we are not too 
 much disposed to measure the importance of God's 
 plans by their apparent reference to ourselves? Thus, 
 for instance, some will say, this matter of the Church 
 is of no such importance as you represent it; what 
 has it to do with my growth in grace? Although 
 
THE CHURCH OF THE LIVING GOD. 53 
 
 such a statement is anything but true, yet it might 
 be as well to remind such an one, that the saving of 
 his soul is not the only purpose which God had in 
 founding the Church. His ways are above our ways ; 
 and while in love and mercy they have a reference 
 to us, it would be modest in us to remember that 
 they may have a reference to beings far higher than 
 we. Thus the Church is the ark of salvation; and 
 also by it is "made known unto the principalities 
 and powers in heavenly places, the manifold wisdom 
 of God." 
 
 Brethren, such is the Church of the living- God: 
 the pillar and ground of the truth, to you and to 
 all Christians. Love the Church. Reverence the 
 Church. Seek on the pillar the truth; for there 
 only it may certainly be found. And no more wan- 
 der from the Church to a strange fold, than the little 
 child should leave the breast of its own mother, for 
 the uncertain arms of a stranger. And if you would 
 show your love and gratitude to the Church, lead a 
 holy life ; hold the truth w^hich she has given you in 
 righteousness; and do all that in you lies to spread it to 
 others, and to transmit it to the generations that come 
 after. So shall you best perform the will of our dear 
 Saviour, "who loved the Church and gave Himself 
 for it; that He might sanctify and cleanse it with 
 the washing of water by the word, that He might 
 present it unto Himself a glorious Church ; not hav- 
 ing spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing; but that it 
 should be holy and without blemish." 
 
 And to that blessed Saviour, who with the Father 
 and the Holy Ghost, &c. &.c. 
 
m: 
 
 SERMON IV. 
 
 THE NECESSITY OF FAITH. 
 
 But without faith it is impossible to please Him. 
 
 Hebrews, ii. 6. 
 
 The eloquent chapter, from which these words are 
 taken, is a glowing commendation of faith ; opening 
 with a clear and concise definition of this cardinal 
 principle of all true religion, in which, however, the 
 effects, rather than the essence of faith is described. 
 The Apostle runs through the long catalogue of the 
 elder worthies, and rehearses the mighty works which 
 they wrought, the bitter sufferings which they en- 
 dured, the gracious helps which they received, the 
 glorious promises which they embraced through the 
 all-prevailing power of faith ; and in the body of his 
 discourse he recommends faith to our notice, as the 
 first and most necessary principle of religion — that 
 principle without which there can be no true religion. 
 It is to this one point that your attention is at pre- 
 sent requested. I wdsh to show why it is that " it 
 is impossible to please" God " without faith." Be- 
 cause many men, instead of thanking God for the 
 simplicity of the first principle of the doctrine of 
 Christ, are very apt to regard faith as a very difficult 
 matter ; and think it a very hard thing in our hea- 
 venly Father to require that which, as they say, 
 many persons cannot have, because it is impossible 
 
THE NECESSITY OF FAITH. 55 
 
 to believe unless the understanding assents to the 
 truth of those things proposed for belief: and some 
 men's understandings cannot assent to the truth of 
 those thintrs which God offers to us as articles of 
 faith. In short, they talk about faith as if it were an 
 arbitrary condition upon which, rather than the ne- 
 cessary mean by which, we attain unto the favour of 
 God. Not so the Apostle Saint Paul. He speaks 
 of faith as something necessary, from the established 
 course of things, in order to our pleasing our Maker; 
 so that a man can no more recover his spiritual health 
 without faith, which is the only way of receiving 
 spiritual medicine, than the sick man can recover his 
 bodily health, who is incapacitated to receive those 
 remedies without which no cure can be effected. 
 Let it be noted, that the faith spoken of in the text is 
 not any specific act, such as heartily relying on the 
 Blood of our blessed Lord as an expiation for our 
 sins; but rather that habit of the soul of which faith 
 in Christ is only one particular act or manifestation : 
 that principle, moral rather than mental, which bows 
 down the whole man to God, a hearty and cordial 
 persuasion of the truth of all God's revelations. It 
 is not, as a fine old writer observes, "a mere believ- 
 ing of historical things, and upon artificial arguments, 
 or'testimonies only; but a certain higher and diviner 
 power in the soul, that peculiarly correspondeth 
 with, that aspires to, desires, and receives, the 
 Deity." Such is faith. We are now to consider its 
 necessity to the pleasing of God. 
 
 St. Paul himself has given us in the context a 
 plain and excellent reason for the necessity of faith ; 
 
56 THE NECESSITY OF FAITH. 
 
 "for," as he tells us, "he that cometh to God must 
 believe that he is, and that he is the rewarder of 
 them that diligently seek him,." Now it is perfectly 
 plain to every man, that no one will or can seek to 
 please God unless he is truly persuaded of his exist- 
 ence ; and that unless he believes that God is a moral 
 Governor, discerning between right and wrong, ap- 
 proving the former and condemning and disallowing 
 the latter, having respect to those who diligently seek 
 him, being ready to be found of those that seek him, 
 and rewarding the search, he will make no effort 
 whatever to gain that loving kindness and favour 
 which are far better than life. Faith then is neces- 
 sary, because God is invisible. In order to please 
 God we must love Him; in order to love Him we 
 must know him; in order to know Him we must 
 exercise faith ; because, as he is invisible, and can- 
 not be taken cognizance of by the senses, faith is 
 evidently the only way left, in which we can so 
 know and love Him as to obtain His favour. Faith 
 is the demonstration or firm persuasion of things not 
 seen; it is a principle that brings a man into the 
 presence of God, and into actual contact, so to speak, 
 with spiritual things, so that he realizes Him and 
 them as a being, and as things, having an actual 
 existence. Thus Moses is said to have "endured, 
 as seeing Him who is invisible." Faith was to him, 
 as it is to every religious man, in the place of eyes : 
 and when he stood in the presence of the stern and 
 tyrannical Pharaoh, he realized that a greater than 
 Pharaoh was before him, even the King of Kings and 
 Lord of Lords; and so both the wrath and the favour 
 
 I 
 
*^- 
 
 THE NECESSITV OF FAITH. 67 
 
 of the earthly monarch were forgotten in the sense 
 of the terror of the wrath, and the blessedness of the 
 favour, of the Lord of Hosts. If Moses had not been 
 a man of faith, he would have been seduced from his 
 duty by hope of the honours, or through fear of the 
 punishments, which it was in the power of the Egyp- 
 tion to confer or inflict. The necessity of faith, 
 viewed under this aspect, may be thus familiarly 
 illustrated. There is a child living among strangers, 
 and he is told, that in a foreign and far off land, he 
 has a father from whom he is constantly receiving 
 marks of love and kindness, accompanied by express 
 statements of his wishes and views, with regard to his 
 son's conduct. Now, if that son is heartily per- 
 suaded that his father is living in this foreign land, 
 and if the tokens of his father's affectionate remem- 
 brance and anxiety for his welfare excite a corres- 
 ponding affection in his breast, he will of course 
 endeavour to please him, by conforming to all his 
 wishes; and he will always conduct himself as if in 
 his father's presence; as seeing him who is neverthe- 
 less far out of his sis^ht. So in a certain sense that 
 son may be said to exercise faith. And you can all 
 see readily that if he did not heartily believe that his 
 father was living, and had conceived no manner of 
 affection for him, he would not endeavor to please 
 him. Now, is there not a striking anology between 
 the supposed case of the father and son, and that of 
 God and mankind? We are children, living away 
 from our Heavenly Father; who has, however, sur- 
 rounded us with countless evidences of his lively- 
 interest in our welfare, and His intense love for our- 
 
58 THE NECESSITY OF FAITH. 
 
 selves. He has moreover expressed clearly His 
 Welshes, as to the course of conduct to be pursued by 
 us, during our separation from Him. But if we are 
 not heartily persuaded that we have such a father in 
 heaven, of course v^e cannot love him, and shall not, 
 from the very nature of things, take any pains to 
 please Him. Now, this is the whole mystery of the 
 necessity of faith ; and any child may see that it is 
 as "impossible to please" God '* without faitli," as 
 it is to fly without wings, or to see without the organs 
 of sight. 
 
 Thus much generally. It will now be necessary 
 to examine this subject more closely, to show in cer- 
 tain particulars how necessary is faith in order to 
 please God. Being by nature sinful, and by mani- 
 fold actual transgressions sinners; we must, if^we 
 would please God, be brought into such a state of 
 reconciliation, and receive such a renovation of our 
 corrupt nature, that He who cannot look upon ini- 
 quity without indignation, and who cannot pass by 
 those sins, against which he has denounced such 
 dreadful judgments, may accept us and receive us to 
 Himself as pardoned and purified beings. To effect 
 this change, He has in His wisdom appointed certain 
 means, which it is impossible to use without faith. 
 Not that faith gives the means their efficacy, but the 
 power of God; faith being only that by which those 
 means are made available by us. 
 
 Our blessed Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, by 
 His death on the Cross, has made an expiation for 
 the sins of every child of Adam. But that expiation 
 is only efficacious to those, who, havinor a livino- faith 
 
THE NECESSITY OF FAITH. 59^ 
 
 in its power to salvation, come to God through 
 Clirist, earnestly seeking, and heartily desiring par- 
 don and purity, and their necessary consequent, that 
 sweet peace, which passeth all understanding. When 
 the Israelites, in the wilderness, were bitten by the 
 fiery serpents, Moses by the command of God set up 
 a brazen serpent; upon which, whosoever, stung by 
 these venomous reptiles, should look, he would be 
 saved from an otherwise inevitable death. But if 
 those who had no faith in the remedy refused to look 
 and be healed, of course they could not escape from 
 their doom. For the same reason it is, that so many 
 are not washed from their sins in the fountain open 
 " for sin and uncleanness." The blood which stained 
 the awful Cross is sufficient to cleanse all the stains 
 of sin from every human being, and to make this 
 fallen race a blessed family around the throne of God. 
 But there are thousands who want faith in its effi- 
 cacy ; and, in reach of such a merciful remedy^ they 
 die in their sins. 
 
 God has instituted two sacraments as channels of 
 His grace. To the carnal eye, the water that sparkles 
 in the laver of regeneration is but water ; and the 
 bread and wine upon the Holy Altar are but bread 
 and wine. But faith enables us to see in the one 
 sacrament that blood shed for the remission of sins^ 
 and that Spirit which implants in the new born soul 
 the germ or seminal principle of all holy disposition^ 
 and righteous habits ; and, in the other, that blessed 
 Body and Blood of our Redeemer, not only broken 
 and poured out for our sins, but also given for the 
 spiritual life of the world, for the strengthening and 
 
60 THE NECESSITY OF FAITH. 
 
 refreshing of the inner man. And why is it that 
 there are some who still gather to this consecrated 
 house of God — some, alas ! in the bustle and stir of 
 middle life, fast hastening on to the evil days, when, 
 without Christ, they shall say, I have no pleasure in 
 them — who have never been born anew of water and 
 the Holy Ghost, being baptized in the name of Jesus 
 Christ, for the remission of sins? Why is it, that, 
 when, the sermon ended, the priest draws near to the 
 Holy Table, and in God's behalf bids you all ap- 
 proach, to take that holy sacrament to your comfort, 
 those doors are darkened by a retiring throng, who 
 go away from their Lord, as if they were not ad- 
 dressed in those most touching words, " This do in 
 remembrance of me?" Is it not dear brethren, be- 
 cause you want faith in those simple means? Do 
 you not ask with the Syrian Leper, "are not Abana 
 and Pharpar, rivers of Damascus, better than all the 
 waters of Israel? May I not wash in them, and be 
 clean?" Are not my inward Baptism and inward 
 Communion all that are necessary to please God? So 
 it is for the want of faith, that the sacraments of the 
 Lord Jesus Christ are so generally neglected. And 
 let it be carefully noted, that though in a certain 
 sense, they are ways of pleasing God, yet they are 
 ineffectual, except to the faithful. Let him who 
 would use them aright, "draw near with faiths 
 . Prayer is the appointed way in which to draw near 
 to God, to make known our wants to Him, to ask 
 whatever we need for the well being of body or soul. 
 But how many there are who go through the busi- 
 ness and pleasure of each returning day, and never 
 
THE NECESSITY OF FAITH. 61 
 
 bend their knee to the almighty God, or put up 
 one single petition, or return one strain of praise, for 
 the many blessings which that good God, unasked 
 and unthanked, has showered upon them! How 
 many more there are who, from habit, go through the 
 daily form of "saying their prayers," who arise 
 gladly from their knees, rejoiced to be through with 
 a weary and unprolitable exercise, and then go abroad 
 into a world of temptation and sorrow, unstrength- 
 ened and unrefreshed ! A want of faith keeps one 
 class of men from the closet and the Church, and 
 renders those places of resort, so delightful to the 
 true child of God, irksome and unproductive of good 
 to the other. Without the use, ordinarily, of the 
 appointed outward means, we "cannot please God." 
 But we shall not use those means at all, or we shall 
 not use them rightly and effectually, " without 
 faith." So then, in any way, "without faith, it is 
 impossible to please" God. 
 
 God cannot be pleased w^ith anything opposed to 
 the holiness of His nature ; and though He imputes 
 not sin to those who seek for pardon through the 
 blood of Christ, yet there must also be a reconciling 
 of rebellious wills and carnal desires to truth and pu- 
 rity and goodness, before God can look upon the sin- 
 ner with complacency : since His judgment and esti- 
 mation of every thing is according to the truth of the 
 thing, and as anything is suited or not to his judg- 
 ment, so He accepts or disallows it. Now " without 
 faith it is impossible" for such a change to take place 
 in the soul. For, by faith alone, as we have before 
 seen, can we rightly use prayer and the other means 
 
62 THE NECESSITY OF FAITH. 
 
 of drawing down spiritual influences. Moreover, 
 faith is the initial or seminal principle of all other 
 graces, and the foundation of hope and charity. It 
 is the beginning of repentance ; for why does a man 
 repent, but because he is heartily persuaded that the 
 Lord is a just God, who will not endure iniquity, and 
 so flees to Him, from that fear which is the beginning 
 of wisdom ? Or else, cordially believes that His 
 heavenly Father has mercifully and patiently borne 
 with his long wilfulness ; has entreated him by the 
 dispensations of His Providence, and the voice of the 
 Spirit to come and be saved; has set up the Cross, a 
 hope to the hopeless, a token of unspeakable love; and 
 so, melted with love, at last yields up his heart to 
 the Lord, who has so graciously sought it? Faith 
 begets true love and gratitude in the soul; and con- 
 stantly increases their strength and fervour. St. 
 John states that love to God arises in the soul, in 
 answer, as it were, to that love which the soul dis- 
 covers has been eternally poured out upon it: "we 
 love Him, because He first loved us." And this 
 through faith : for by faith we realize the love of God 
 to us from the beginning ; yea, that greatest love of 
 all which was manifested at Calvary. By faith too, 
 we see the hand of God in all the events of life ; 
 which worldly men regard as, or, at any rate, talk 
 about too much as, if they were actually depending 
 upon "chance." Thus heartily believing that God 
 formed and preserved us ; so loved us that He sent 
 His only begotten Son to die for our sins; gives all 
 that we have, takes all that we lose, to draw us nearer 
 and nearer to the only Fountain of bliss, a divine 
 
THE NECESSITY OF FAITH. 63 
 
 affection springs up in the soul. Faith in God's love 
 to us begets in us a true love to God. 
 
 It is impossible to please God, unless our affections 
 are set supremely on Him : but with most men the 
 things seen and temporal have far more weight and 
 importance, are far wore attractive and interesting 
 than things unseen and eternal ; and so they are 
 lovers of themselves, of pleasure, of all that is in the 
 world, rather than of God. Hence the necessity of 
 faith, to bring things spiritual so near to man that he 
 may realize them, and feel their infinite, their eternal, 
 and their immediate importance. Why is it that man 
 puts off the one thing needful to some more conve- 
 nient season, that he may attend to some matter of 
 business or pleasure ? Is it not because he realizes 
 the practical bearing of the affairs of business or 
 pleasure upon his present well being and happiness ; 
 while with regard to religion, he has no faith : he 
 does not perceive that it is now necessary to his hap- 
 piness, to be pardoned, and to be cleansed from sin. 
 We often hear young persons say, when asked to 
 make the salvation of ther souls the first great busi- 
 ness of life, "What, give up the pleasures of the world, 
 for religion?" Ah, what a want of faith is discernible 
 in such an answer ! They have faith in the pleasures 
 of the world, poor transitory things though they be; 
 but they have no faith in God. They do not heartily 
 believe that He will repay them, even in this life, an 
 hundred fold for every sacrifice made for His sake. 
 They have faith that the dance, the revel, the adula- 
 tion and love of earthly friends, the decoration of 
 person, the pomp and pageantry of earthly shows, will 
 
64 THE NECESSITY OF FAITH. 
 
 give them pleasure : but that the Lord Jesus Christ 
 will give his friends a peace that " passeth all under- 
 standing," a joy that "no man taketh" from them; 
 that in God's presence there is "fulness of joy;" that 
 at his right hand are "pleasures for evermore;" that 
 He will one day make his saints drink of the river of 
 His pleasure, they do not at all believe. Now this 
 intense apprehension, and inordinate love of the things 
 of time and sense, faith alone can correct. No one 
 can doubt that if God and the pleasures of sin, heaven 
 and the world, were not once or twice, but liabitually 
 compared together, reasonable and reasoning beings 
 would gladly fix their affections and hopes on God. 
 And this is precisely what the habit of faith does. 
 When dazzled by the glare of the pleasures and 
 honours of the world, it sets side by side with them, 
 a vision of a worm that never dieth, of a flame that is 
 not quenched ; and we are startled from our intoxi- 
 cating dreams. When the paths of life are over- 
 shadowed, and we find that it begins to be hard and 
 irksome to travel on the straight and narrow path of 
 duty; faith shows us a fadeless crown, a glorified 
 body, a land of peace and purity and bliss, and 
 brighter light gleams on all our ways, and we hasten 
 on a self denying course with renewed strength and 
 cheerfulness. 
 
 Thus much for the necessity of faith ; and though 
 the subject has been viewed but in a single aspect, it 
 is trusted that enough has been said to show the rea- 
 sonableness of demanding such a qualification in or- 
 der to our being accepted of God. For faith is the 
 first pulse of the divine life in the soul ; by it we are 
 
THE NECESSITY OF FAITH. 65 
 
 made just, by it the just live, and by it they walk with 
 God. It is the connecting link of the chain that 
 binds time to eternity; it is the pathway between 
 earth and heaven; the light-house of life; and the star 
 of death. The Christian begins with faith, goes on 
 by faith, and in faith his life must end; for he can 
 only lay it aside when the glare of earthly tempta- 
 tions has faded away forever, in the immediate pre- 
 sence of God. 
 
 My Christian brethren, would you seek faith, or 
 an increase of faith? Ask it of God: for God alone 
 can give it. We cannot sit down and reason our- 
 selves into Gospel faith; that is, I mean, that a mere 
 process of the mind is not all that is necessary. For 
 faith, as we are expressly told in the Bible, is a fruit 
 of the Spirit, and the gift of God. My brother, weak 
 in faith, fly from your own doubts and difficulties to 
 the feet of our blessed Redeemer, and with the af- 
 flicted father, confess your faith and your wants to- 
 gether, "Lord I believe, help thou mine unbelief;" 
 and be assured, that he will never send you away un- 
 strengthened. And let us all, whatever may be our 
 spiritual attainments and growth in grace, pray, with 
 the apostles of our Master, " Lord increase our faith." 
 
 Brethren, " without faith it is impossible to please " 
 God. Why is it, then, that there are some yet desti- 
 tute of this divine principle ; this indispensable qual- 
 ification for pleasing God? Alas, there are some, 
 there are many amongst us, who have no care to 
 please God. They are pleasing themselves by hurt- 
 ful lusts and foolish pleasures ; they are pleasing their 
 fellow men by conforming to their wishes, either 
 
66 THE NECESSITY OF FAITH. 
 
 through fear of their displeasure, or a desire for their 
 approbation. But the all-perfect God, their best 
 friend, their Creator, Redeemer and Sanctifier, He 
 who can make them unspeakably blessed forever, 
 He who can destroy both soul and body in hell : they 
 are passing through life, they are hurrying on to 
 death, without a care or a thought or a wish to please 
 Him ! They are sleeping what may be the sleep of 
 eternal death. How unspeakably wretched is the 
 man without faith! For him, life has no object, and 
 sorrow no consolation. The grave of his departed 
 friend has no hope to relieve its gloom. And his last 
 moments are passed, either in stupid indifference to 
 the future, like the beasts that perish, or in "a fear- 
 ful looking for of judgment, and fiery indignation" 
 from that God, whom he has never sought to please, 
 and who now has no pleasure in him. For him, vain- 
 ly was this glorious universe created ; for him, vainly 
 did the Son of God become man; for him, vainly was 
 that most precious blood poured out. "For without 
 faith it is impossible to please " God. And now, &c. 
 
SERMON V. 
 
 LOVE THE PROOF OF LIFE. 
 
 [ For the Second Sunday after Trinity.] 
 
 Marvel not, my brethren if the world hate you. We know that we 
 have passed from death unto life, because we love the brethren. 
 He that loveth not his brother abideth in death, 
 
 1 John, iii. 13, 14. 
 
 What a strange contrast was presented between the 
 world and the Church, in the elder day of the latter ! 
 The w^orld, with frown and scoff and jeer, with the 
 chain, the sword, and the lighted torch, poured forth 
 the most malignant fury upon the Church ; hoping 
 to destroy her in the bright, fresh days of her youth : 
 while the Church, meekly imitating her Divine Mas- 
 ter, forgave and loved and blessed the world. But 
 from time to time it chanced that one of the proud, 
 hateful, persecuting men of the world, one of those 
 who had scorned the name of Jesus of Nazareth, and 
 his lowly followers, was led by the gentle Spirit of 
 God among that little flock, then " every where 
 spoken against;" and being "a new creature in 
 Christ Jesus," was rejoiced to hail as brethren those 
 very persons whom before he had doomed to the 
 wasting prison-house, or the agonizing fire. And 
 when he saw the love that existed between those 
 
6S LOVE THE PROOF OF LIFE. 
 
 Christians, when he witnessed their benevolence for 
 the whole family of man, their tender anxiety for the 
 temporal and eternal welfare of their bitterest perse- 
 cutors ; yea, more, when, in his own renewed heart, 
 he felt that in the place of bitterness and wrath and 
 malice, there had sprung up the kindest love for those 
 poor despised brethren in Christ, and a merciful dis- 
 position to al] men ; even to those who had done or 
 wished him evil, he looked back upon his former 
 associates, and wondered how it could be that they 
 regarded a body of people so gentle and meek and 
 forffivinCT with such vindictive feelino-s. For such 
 an one, the words of our text must have been written, 
 to remind him that his new feelings and dispositions 
 were fruits of the Holy Spirit, and inhabited his soul, 
 because God in infinite mercy had quickened him, 
 "dead in trespasses and sins ;" had delivered him 
 from the power of darkness ; and translated him into 
 the kingdom of His dear Son. " Marvel not, my 
 brethren, if the world hate you." Hatred, and par- 
 ticularly hatred of the children of God, belongs to 
 that state of death from which we know that we have 
 passed, "because we love the brethren." 
 
 The existence, in the heart, of the Gospel principle 
 of love, elsewhere termed charity, the sure proof of 
 having " passed from death to life," is the point which 
 the text suggests, and which may profitably employ 
 our thoughts this morning ; after a brief consideration 
 of the peculiar and expressive terms, death and life. 
 
 These two terms death and life are of course figu- 
 rative, and describe the two states in which all men 
 are ; in the one, by naturey and in the other by the 
 
LOVE THE PROOF OF LIFE. 69 
 
 grace of God. Those who have not been renewed 
 in the spirit of their minds, whose hearts are not set 
 to obey God's commandments, who are bent upon 
 the gratification of their corrupt affections and lusts, 
 who serve and please themselves, instead of trying* 
 to serve and please God, are said to be in a state of 
 death, because they are dead to all the real objects of 
 life ; because they are dead to, that is, have no in- 
 terest in, the Lord of life and glory ; and because 
 their present state, if continued in, must end, in what 
 is called in the Bible, death eternal and the second 
 death. And may not the sinner, the man in the state 
 described, well be termed dead ? For can that man 
 be said to live, who breathes the breath of life, to 
 profane, to disregard, to hate, to rebel against his 
 Maker ? Can that man be said to live, who regards, or 
 acts as if he regarded, these brief years of vanity as 
 his all of life; who with the privilege of becoming the 
 son of God, with the offer of eternal blessedness, 
 with the glorious object set before him of being made 
 anew in the likeness of the great and good God, 
 chooses to be a child of the devil, squanders his 
 treasure of happiness in the uncertain days of life, 
 and, at last, by a long course of selfishness and sin, 
 having effaced every trace of the divine image from 
 his soul, is cast — a moral wreck — upon the shoreless 
 ocean of Eternity? Or, can he be said to live, who, 
 while his God is sending down His blessings upon 
 the evil and the good, while the face of nature wears 
 an unchanging smile, and while all around and above 
 him invites to benevolence and goodness, creeps 
 through the world, hating and envying and tortur- 
 
70 LOVE THE PROOF OF LIFE. 
 
 ing, as far as it may be in his power, his fellow-men? 
 Surely, one so at variance with his Maker, with 
 righteousness and truth, is, although he has " a name 
 to live,^'' dead. On the other hand, how beautifully 
 descriptive of the state of the true Christian is the 
 term life ; of him who has been brought back from 
 the paths of sin and folly, to the fold of the good 
 Shepherd, being reconciled to God by faith, in Jesus 
 Christ, and renewed by the Holy Ghost, and is now 
 living a life of faith in his blessed Saviour. He lives ; 
 for sin, the cause and first principle of death, has been 
 destroyed in his soul, and " the law of the spirit of 
 life in Christ Jesus," has been implanted in its stead. 
 He lives ; lives to God, for he is at peace with his 
 Maker, and there has been formed between them an 
 everlasting covenant which shall not be broken. He 
 lives to love and to bless his fellow-men, by making 
 them good and happy now, and so, good and happy 
 forever. And when he dies ; oh, the?i he but begins 
 to live. The pale cheek, the dim eye, and the 
 quivering frame, and the terrors of death, they are 
 but the last shades of night; scattering before the first 
 beams of the endless day — " Mortality is swallowed 
 up of life." 
 
 My brethren, in one of these two states, life or 
 death, we all at this moment are : and man cannot 
 ask himself a more solemn question than "In which 
 of these states am I?" The apostle, St. John, in the 
 text, has given us a sure and certain test by which to 
 ascertain our state before God ; and he tells that we 
 may know that we have passed from death unto life, 
 — not because we have professed Christ before men, 
 
LOVE THE PROOF OF LIFE. 71 
 
 not because we have been baptized, or confirmed, or 
 are partakers of the holy communion, necessary as 
 all these means are, in their several places, for se- 
 en rinor the divine favour, and for commencinor and 
 continuing the divine life in the soul ; nor because 
 we have certain inward exercises, exaggerated views 
 of our own sinfulness, rapturous ecstacies of joy, or 
 can point to certain moments when mysterious 
 assurances of pardon v/ere borne in upon the soul ; 
 for of such tests the Bible is totally silent, and he 
 who demands them as evidences of a state of grace, 
 or as qualifications for the Communion, is exercising 
 an unholy tyranny over God's heritage — but, because 
 we love the brethren. Love is the sign of life. Let 
 us then examine for a few moments this principle of 
 Christian love, in its foundation, its nature, and two 
 or three of the modes in which it is usually mani- 
 fested ; and let us do it too with the express object 
 of ascertaining, by a plain, simple, scriptural test, 
 whether our hearts are right with God. 
 
 Christian love has its foundation wholly in Christ; 
 not only, I mean, as coming into the soul, a living 
 principle from Christ, through the Spirit, but because 
 it is a love to men for Christ's sake. It forgets their 
 infirmities and follies, the peculiarities of temper and 
 disposition which in many men are so apt to disgust 
 us, and looks upon them as brethren in Christ Jesus, 
 washed from their sins in His most precious blood. 
 Just as in every day life, upon'a similar principle, we 
 treat with love and kindness a person in whom we 
 were not before interested, for the sake of a mutual 
 friend. Christian love is founded also in the common 
 
 ^ 
 
72 LOVE THE PROOF OF LIFE. 
 
 hopes and fears entertained by those between whom 
 it exists ; and in a sense of the dangers to Avhich all 
 are alike exposed ; for it remembers that all are in- 
 volved in a common ruin, that all have been redeem- 
 ed by a common Saviour, that all are subject to com- 
 mon dangers and temptations, and that all are look- 
 ing forward to a common hope. Place a number of 
 men together, who have been ever so widely severed 
 by tastes, habits and pursuits, and expose them to 
 some great danger ; and you will see during the time 
 of its continuance or after it is removed, how the 
 sharing of common fear and joy melts down in a mo- 
 ment all the artificial distinctions of life, and knits all 
 hearts in one. And is not the feeling that exists be- 
 tween all true Christians precisely similar, only infi- 
 nitely higher and holier in its nature ? Bring now a 
 number of real Christians together, from all parts of 
 the earth, before unacquainted with each other, and 
 do you think that the recollection of the danger from 
 which they had all escaped — the danger of eternal 
 death — of that friendship of their Lord and Master 
 in which all are partakers ; of that common hope 
 which all indulge — the hope of heaven — would leave 
 them long without mutual interest and affection ? So 
 you see, that Christian love is based not so much upon 
 taste, as upon that common relation in which all be- 
 lievers stand to each other, as children of God. 
 
 It must not, of course, be thought, that this affec- 
 tion is exercised only towards those who are true be- 
 lievers ; for, like its divine Giver, it extends itself to all 
 men. But the Christian's love for the world is still 
 something different from his love for Christians. It 
 
LOVE THE PROOF OF LIFE. 73 
 
 is absurd to suppose for instance, that God exercises 
 the same love towards those who love and obey Him, 
 and those who hate and disobey Him. No more can 
 His true child. For the world, that is for ungodly 
 people, who live merely with reference to this pre- 
 sent world, and who act upon principles that find 
 sole favour with the world, he entertains a love of 
 beneoolence and beneficence; that is, he wishes them 
 well, and strives to do all the good to them that he 
 possibly can. But the love of complacency is that 
 which he feels for the children of God. He delights 
 in them, because they are good, and pure, and true, 
 and are like his Father in Heaven. If you have ever 
 had your eye arrested, when wandering away from 
 the scenes and endearments of home, by a real or 
 fancied resemblance, in an unknown passer-by, to 
 some beloved friend on far distant shores, you know 
 how deep an interest will be excited in a mere stran- 
 ger for the sake of such resemblance ! And so is it 
 with the Christian, when in some fellow-pilgrim, 
 before unknowm to him, he sees a likeness to his 
 heavenly Father. Such dispositions, St. John tells 
 us, must necessarily exist between God's children, 
 on account of their mutual relation to Him. "Every 
 one that loveth him that begot, loveth him also that 
 is begotten of Him." My brethren, if we have no 
 such delight in the good, for the sake of their likeness 
 to the Fountain of all goodness, it is because we have 
 never known God. 
 
 But there is a false, unhealthy feeling found among 
 some professing Christians, which ought to be strict- 
 ly guarded against. In some cases it assumes the 
 
 10 
 
74 LOVE THE PROOF OF LIFE. 
 
 form of the wildest radicalism ; and in others it dis- 
 plays itself as a sickly sentimentality. But true 
 Christian love does not aim and does not te7id, to 
 break down those distinctions in society, which are 
 positively necessary for the happiness and well-be- 
 ing of all classes of men; but it places those distinc- 
 tions upon their true grounds, rendering them less 
 dangerous to superiors^ and to inferiors more tolera- 
 ble. In proof of this assertion, we have the words 
 of the apostle, St. Paul, addressed to those members 
 of the Ephesian Church who were living at service. 
 "They that have believing masters, let them not 
 despise them, because they are brethren; but rather 
 do them service, because they are faithful and belo- 
 ved, partakers of the benefit y Nor, again, does Chris- 
 tian love consist in the use of certain words and phra- 
 ses with which certain good people seem to think it 
 necessarily connected. We may say, "Lord, Lord," 
 and yet be destitute of a true principle of obedience 
 to Christ; and so too we may say "brother, brother," 
 and yet have no true fraternal love in our hearts. 
 Indeed, it should seem that St. John has given us a 
 distinct warning against an appearance of this af- 
 fection, consisting in words and names ; meanwhile 
 pointing us to the deep inward principle. "My lit- 
 tle children let us not love in rvord, neither in tongue; 
 but in deed and in truth.'''' 
 
 But as it is necessarily difficult to define mental 
 feelings and moral principles, and as they are best 
 understood in and by their effects, let us examine 
 some two or three of the ways in which this Gospel 
 principle of love is manifested, and the manner in 
 
 1? . 
 
LOVE THE PROOF OF LIFE. 75 
 
 which it usually displays itself; such as in doing good, 
 or works of benevolence ; in the treatment of brethren 
 who err; and in conduct toivards those who offend, es- 
 peciaUij against ourselves. 
 
 In works of be^ievolence which spring from the root 
 of Christian love, even if the station in life of the 
 doer leaves room for such a notion, there is no 
 thought of co7idescension. If the Christian leaves the 
 proudest mansion, to minister to the necessities of 
 the inmates of the lowliest hovel, he does not think 
 for a moment that he is condescending in so doing : 
 for he knows that the Lord of Glory, the only Being 
 ever upon the earth who had a right to look with con- 
 tempt upon any man, was not ashamed to call us all 
 brethren ; and that the ano^els leave the brii^htness of 
 heaven for the dim obscurity of the dwellings of the 
 heirs of salvation ; and he bends at the bedside of 
 " the brother of low degree," rejoicing to minister 
 with the hosts of Heaven to his gracious Master, in 
 the person of one of the least of his brethren. Upon 
 the same principle, he does not confine his works of 
 love to those only who interest his feelings; but even 
 as the most uninteresting scenes in nature become 
 dear to us when connected with the remembrance of 
 friends, so do the most uncouth and unattractive men 
 become interesting to him, when associated in his 
 mind with Christ. Nor when, as is too often the 
 case, his kindness is met with ingratitude and indif- 
 ference, does he cease his labours of love; for "charity 
 never faileth :" and he asks himself, where should I 
 now be, if my ingratitude and long indifference had 
 alienated and turned away from me the love of my 
 
76 LOVE THE PROOF 6F LIFE. 
 
 great Benefactor? Ah, my brethren! if such a spi- 
 rit ruled our hearts, we should not so soon be " weary 
 in well-doing," so guided by mere taste in the choice 
 of the objects of our beneficence, or so easily offended 
 by a want of that gratitude which we expect too 
 much ; and many a one, who is now an outcast from 
 society and from God, would be restored to all that is 
 really good and desirable in life, brought back by the 
 untiring hand of Christian Love. 
 
 Again, "for it must needs be that offences come ;" 
 and how does the Christian treat them ? When he 
 sees his brother '' sin a sin)" does he blazon it to the 
 world, hypocritically accompanying the announce- 
 ment with many protestations of sorrow ? No ! his 
 charity displays itself in silence before man ; and in 
 prayer to the All-Merciful: for he knows, at the best? 
 what a poor, frail filing is the heart of man ; what a 
 fearful thing it is for a child of God, for one who 
 has tasted of the heavenly gift, to offend, and he 
 weeps with the angels at the good man's fall. Even 
 against the most abandoned sinner, the heart of the 
 Christian is not steeled : and where it is not his 
 bounden duty to condemn, he says in the spirit of his 
 Master, " Neither do I condemn thee, go and sin no 
 more." For he remembers that by the grace of God 
 he is, what he is ; and he runs back in thought to 
 the time when that hardened brutal, profligate man, 
 was a little sinless child, bending his knee, and lisp- 
 ing his accepted prayer by his mother's side : and he 
 thinks of the many temptations that may have beset 
 that sinner, from which he has been mercifully deli- 
 vered ; of the good influences enjoyed by him and 
 
LOVE THE PROOF OF LIFE. 77 
 
 denied to the poor wanderer from the right way ; and 
 censure and rebuke give place to pity for his sad con- 
 dition, and earnest prayer for his conversion. Thus, 
 true Christian love seeks, to the very last, to hide, 
 rather than proclaim offences, and to imitate the long 
 suffering of God. 
 
 But there is a situation, in which we are all more 
 or less liable to be placed, which is the most trying 
 to the strength of the principle of which we speak, 
 and yet the one in which, of all others, it appears most 
 divine; I mean, when offences are committed against 
 ourselves. We know from experience that the first 
 impulse of heart, is to resent and revenge; although 
 any indulgence in such feelings marks at once the 
 state of death. iVnd how does Christian love con- 
 duct itself under such circumstances? In the first 
 place, it is not suspicious of an intention to slight or 
 offend ; for it is kind itself, and "thinketh no evil." 
 But when convinced that there is an intention to 
 offend, insult and injure, the possessor of this divine 
 principle goes to the offender, asks him what evil he 
 has done, and, though offended against, sues for a re- 
 conciliation. If he fails, if he is repulsed, although 
 of course not bound to place himself in the way of 
 farther insult and injury, yet he is still ever on the 
 watch for a good opportunity of gaining his offending 
 brother, that he may take advantage of the first gleam 
 of returning kindness and gentleness. How much 
 blood might be saved by the kind offices of Christian 
 love ! How many families and congregations might 
 be preserved in peace and harmony by the presence 
 of the same gentle spirit! But most men are proud 
 
78 LOVE THE PROOF OF LIFE. 
 
 and vindictive, and prefer hatred to forgiveness ; and 
 even those who have better feelings are too often 
 afraid to obey them. In this way, it is, that we often 
 see feuds existing for years between individuals or 
 families, which might be healed in a moment, after 
 the first gust of passion has subsided. But one says, 
 " I have done all in my power to make up this quar- 
 rel ; it is not my part to make another attempt." Yet 
 if you are a Christian, try once again ; it may be that 
 the good time has come ; for if you have indeed 
 " passed from death unto life," you know of a 
 mighty One against whom you have often offended, 
 and yet who sought again and again to win your 
 heart. If He had ceased His efforts, where would you 
 now be ? Your enemy is wretched, for he is in a 
 state of spiritual death. Remember not his former, 
 it may be his oft repeated, offence; but his present 
 misery. Go once again to him ; entreat him gently 
 "as a brother," for Christ's sake, to be reconciled to 
 you. "If he shall hear thee, thou hast gained thy 
 brother;" gained him for heaven and God. And 
 think of the blessedness of being the instrument, un- 
 der God, of taking away that proud and hateful heart. 
 "Blessed are the peacemakers; for they shall be 
 called the children of God." 
 
 But there is a spurious hollow-hearted forgiveness, 
 which some mistake for the forgiveness of Christian 
 love. Some persons suppose that if they are not in- 
 juring those who have injured them, either in word 
 and deed, they are fulfilling the law of love, even 
 though they refuse to hold further intercourse with 
 the offenders. But, no. The Christian's forgive- 
 
LOVE THE PROOF OF LIFE. 79 
 
 ness of his brother must resemble God's forgiveness 
 of us all. And what man ever sinned against man, 
 as each one of us has sinned against God? And yet 
 God admits the penitent to a free pardon, treating 
 him as if he had never sinned ; and admitting him to 
 free communion and friendship. So must every one 
 of us forgive those who trespass against us; admitting 
 them again to hold intercourse with us, freely for- 
 giving and forgetting all. If we do not do this, rely 
 upon it, no matter what the lip professes, there is 
 hatred to a brother lurking in the heart, and we are 
 abiding in death. 
 
 And shall we now be told of this whole subject, 
 such a spirit is not in man — it is divine. True, it 
 is so, and therefore its presence in the soul is a proof 
 of our being born of God, of having passed from death 
 unto life. And now, by this test, let us all seriously 
 try ourselves, whether we are of God. How is it 
 when you hear of a Christian man's doing wrong ? 
 Do you feel grieved that one professing godliness 
 has sinned ; and keep as silent about it as possible? 
 Are you, as members of families, as members of this 
 congregation, walking in love with those with whom 
 you are associated ? Have you a peculiar affection for 
 all religious persons, because they are brethren in 
 Christ Jesus ? Have none of you offered this day 
 that solemn petition, "forgive us our trespasses, as 
 we forgive those who trespass against us;" blending 
 your voices, with the voices of those whom you have 
 not forgiven for some real or fancied injury? What 
 an awful mockery, to offer up that prayer in such a 
 spirit ! It is in fact imprecating God's curse upon our 
 
80 LOVE THE PROOF OF LIFE. 
 
 own heads ! Is there no one who draws near this 
 Holy Altar, to take the communion of the Body and 
 Blood of Christ, and kneels down side by side with 
 those against whom he is entertaining feelings of 
 envy, jealousy and hatred? It is a fearfully wicked 
 thing to "eat of that bread and drink of that cup" 
 with one unforgiving thought in the heart; and if 
 such be the case with any, though for long years 
 they have professed Christ before men, theij are abid- 
 ing in death. Christian, turn your eye to the awful 
 Cross ; and contrast your conduct with that of the 
 Master, whom you profess to imitate. You are 
 hating your brother for a hasty word, a cold look, or 
 because — unwittingly it may be — he has interfered 
 with some of your cherished schemes. He underwent 
 insult and anguish that language cannot picture, and 
 almost His last word was a prayer for His torturers — 
 " Father, forgive them, for they know not what they 
 do." Brethren, let us not deceive ourselves. '^ He 
 that loveth not his brother abideth in death." "If a 
 man say I love God, and hateth his brother, he is a 
 liar : for he that loveth not his brother whom he 
 hath seen, how can he love God, whom he hath not 
 seen?" 
 
 And now perhaps there are some honest enough to 
 confess, that they have no such interest in men. for 
 Christ's sake ; yea, even that they are hating some of 
 their brethren: and who, moreover, are reasonable 
 enough to admit that if the Bible be true, they are 
 abiding in death. And it may be that the inconsis- 
 tencies and strifes of many, who profess and call 
 themselves Christians, have almost led them to dis- 
 
LOVE THE PROOF OP^ LIFE. 81 
 
 believe the reality of spiritual life and Christian love. 
 But can the dead know aught of life? Yet, if they 
 ever arise from their state of spiritual death, and 
 hear the voice of Christ, and are filled with that love 
 which raises the soul far above the petty strifes and 
 jealousies and enmities of the world, and fixes it upon 
 God, and for His sake, upon all men, whether friends 
 or foes; and then contrast their new-born feelings 
 with the miserable envy and malice in which they 
 once indulged, they will not wonder that love to all 
 men, "and especially unto them who are of the house- 
 hold of faith," has been laid down in Holy Writ as 
 an unequivocal proof of having passed from death 
 unto life. For then they will see, that to envy, and 
 hate, and bear malice, is to be a child of the devil; 
 and that to dwell in love, is to dwell in God. 
 
 O Lord, who hast taught us that aH our doings without charity are nothing 
 worth ; send thy Holy Ghost, and pour into our hearts that most excellent gift 
 of charity, the very bond of peace, and of ail virtues ; without which, whoso- 
 ever liveth is counted dead before thee : Grant this for thine only Son Jesus 
 Christ's sake. Amen. 
 
 11 
 
SERMON VI. 
 
 PHARISAICAL AND EVANGELICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 
 
 [For the sixth Sunday after Trinity.] 
 
 For I say unto you, that except your righteousness shall exceed the 
 
 righteousness of the Scribes and Pharisees, ye shall in no case 
 
 enter into the kingdom of heaven. 
 
 St. Matthew, v. 20. 
 
 The nature of salvation through Christ has ever 
 been a subject of much misapprehension. The com- 
 mon, and, as it is deemed, erroneous notion of it, 
 being, that it is pardon, or deliverance from the 
 punishment of sin; while the statements in Scripture 
 seem to treat it rather as a moral, spiritual salvation, 
 a freedom from the law of sin and death, or of the 
 natural evil principle, and an obedience to the law of 
 the Spirit of life in Christ : the new infused prin- 
 ciple of righteousness, which is the fruit of the Holy 
 Ghost. Thus, St. Paul states the great object of the 
 humiliation and death of the Eternal Son to be, " to 
 redeem us from all iniquity, that he might purify 
 unto himself a peculiar people, zealous of good 
 works." This is certainly an important matter; for 
 upon a due understanding of the true nature of sal- 
 vation depends much of our happiness and consola- 
 tion now and here: and a misunderstanding of it 
 may end in ruin. It is to be feared that some among 
 
PHARISAICAL AND EVANGELICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. 83 
 
 US are trusting to the death of Christ, as a ground for 
 impunity in sinning ; thinking that in some mystical 
 way, their garments, stained with sin, are to be co- 
 vered with the robe of His righteousness. Others, 
 instead of striving to crucify the old man or nature, 
 to utterly abolish the whole body of sin, are ever 
 watching for an assurance of pardon ; which is given 
 but once in a man's life, and then but one way, and 
 that is in Baptism. But our Saviour, in our text, 
 assures us plainly that there is an inward, spiritual 
 righteousness to be attained, in order to final salva- 
 tion; a righteousness exceeding the righteousness of 
 the Scribes and Pharisees. What that righteousness 
 is, concerns all of us to know; for we all are soon to 
 commence a journey which, without it, will have a 
 gloomy end. Let us compare together the evange- 
 lical righteousness, and the righteousness of the Pha- 
 risees, after briefly noticing one or two words in the 
 text. 
 
 The righteousness spoken of in the text is not any 
 moral or other work belonging to any one else, which 
 is to be imputed to us ; but it is a spiritual work, to 
 be wrought within us: which is evident from the 
 passages following our text, in which our Saviour 
 shows the spiritual obedience required by the Law 
 of God, summing up the whole with an injunction, 
 to be "perfect, even as our Father in heaven is per- 
 fect." It consists in a perfect conformity of the 
 whole man, body, soul and spirit, to the law of right: 
 a setting apart or dedicating to God of all our powers 
 and faculties, time and opportunities; a reducing to 
 the obedience of faith, of our own thoughts, words, 
 
84 PHARISAICAL AND EVANGELICAL 
 
 wills, actions and affections. This is the holiness, 
 without which, "no man shall see the Lord." Now, 
 some people, in hearing this statement, or like state- 
 ments, are apt to say, " How strange it is, when the 
 work was all done by our Lord, on the Cross, that 
 there should still be so great a work to be done in 
 our souls!" But, brethren, the awful mystery of the 
 Cross never was intended to be substituted for per- 
 sonal holiness. The Cross is the assurance of mercy, 
 and pardon and grace; the type and pattern of the 
 new inward and outward life, to be led by the re- 
 deemed. But the death of Christ will do us no lasting 
 good, unless we, too, by his grace strengthening us, die 
 unto sin, and live unto righteousness. For our call- 
 ing is far higher and nobler than a mere deliverance 
 from punishment. We are called up to be partakers 
 of the divine nature, to enter into the Holiest; that is, 
 to approach spiritually and actually to God, by the 
 blood of Jesus, through the new and living way, the 
 veil of His flesh, which he hath consecrated for us. 
 When you think of the Cross, think of it as a sign 
 and pledge of mercy to all, who forsake sin, but to 
 none beside ; as an encouragement and incitement — 
 yea, as laying a strong necessity upon us — to be 
 personally holy. 
 
 The "kingdom of heaven," in the text, means the 
 Church in glory, the state of the blessed in heaven : 
 and not, as some have explained it, the Church mili- 
 tant on earth ; or the reign of grace in the heart. For 
 the Church on earth is the ark into which men are 
 to enter, in order that they may become sanctified 
 and just. It is the city of refuge for sinners, the home 
 
RIGHTEOUSNESS. 85 
 
 for the weary. Men are not to wait for an advanced 
 state of holiness, before they become members of the 
 Church, but the moment a man, if he is so unhappy 
 as not to have been made a member of Christ in in- 
 fancy, begins to repent and believe, he should enter 
 the Church, at once ; as the home where the Saviour 
 of the soul may be found. Besides, we do see some, 
 perhaps many, whose righteousness does not exceed 
 the righteousness of the Scribes and Pharisees, who, 
 nevertheless, enter the Church upon earth; so that 
 the phrase, "Kingdom of Heaven," cannot mean the 
 Church here, otherwise our Saviour's words have 
 been falsified. Neither can the phrase mean the 
 reign of grace in the heart, because it would be ab- 
 surd to say, that unless grace reigns in the heart, 
 grace does not reign in the heart; which, with that 
 interpretation, would be the drift of the sentence. So 
 then the expression, " Kingdom of Heaven," refers to 
 that Holy City, the Jerusalem above, into which "shall 
 in no wise enter any thing thatdefileth, neither what- 
 soever worketh abomination, or maketh a lie; but 
 they which are written in the Lamb's Book of Life." 
 "Except your righteousness shall exceed the 
 righteousness of the Scribes and Pharisees.^' Phari- 
 saical righteousness was superficial, partial, and 
 wrought in reliance upon their own strength, in order 
 to merit heaven. It was a superficial righteousness, 
 in that it consisted in outward actions, and not in in- 
 ward principles; and while those who practised it 
 were highly commended for their piety, by men, they 
 were utterly abominable to the Searcher of hearts. 
 The Scribes and Pharisees were men-pleasers. 
 
86 PHARISAICAL AND EVANGELICAL 
 
 serving the Lord with eye service, not doing the 
 will of God from the heart. They were very careful 
 to abstain from outward acts forbidden by the law 
 of God ; their hands were unpolluted by a brother's 
 blood, and no deeds of impurity could be charged to 
 them. But the stains of lust and hatred defiled their 
 souls ; and- yet they could stand up and justify them- 
 selves before God, thanking Him that they were not 
 "as other men, extortioners, unjust, and adulterers." 
 They were no neglecters of prayer and fasting, but 
 the hungering and thirsting of a soul after righteous- 
 ness, the crucifying, or painfully destroying of cor- 
 rupt affections and desires, they knew nothing about. 
 Their religion was all outward, all on the surface. 
 They were, as it has been well said of all hypocrites, 
 the sepulchres and not the temples of piety. 
 
 The righteousness of the Scribes and Pharisees 
 was partial, and embraced not, indeed, aimed not to 
 keep, the whole law of God ; for they had a notion, in 
 our Saviour's time, that a strict keeping of some of 
 the great commandments would atone for the omis- 
 sion to observe what they deemed the less command- 
 ments. Thus, a man might devote a portion of his 
 substance to the Temple ; and so be freed from the 
 obligation of doing anything more for the support and 
 sustenance of his father and mother. But what a 
 miserable apology for the righteousness of God ! As 
 if a perfectly holy Being could look with compla- 
 cency upon a sin, for the sake of a virtue ! At what 
 earthly tribunal, would a man be pardoned for a theft, 
 because he had not committed murder ? Yet these 
 grovelling souls trusted to a partial obedience for ac- 
 
RIGHTEOUSNESS. 87 
 
 ceptance with Him, who has said by the mouth of 
 St. James, that ** whosoever shall keep the whole 
 law and yet oflfend in one point, he is guilty of all." 
 
 Pharisaical righteousness was wrought in reliance 
 upon their own strength, in order to merit heaven. 
 They thought that the law was given, not to bring 
 them to Christ, not to show them the sinful tenden- 
 cies of their corrupt nature, not to guide them when 
 in possession of spiritual strength ; but for the pur- 
 pose of enabling them to merit heaven by it, which 
 they thought it possible to do by their own unassisted 
 strength. A notion, which all reasonable men must 
 see tends to make us proud and vain, and to prevent 
 us from entertaining that sense of dependence, which 
 must exist in the heart of every Christian, in order to 
 an humble walk with God. 
 
 My brethren, our blessed Master, in telling his dis- 
 ciples that if they would enter into the Kingdom of 
 Heaven, their righteousness must exceed the right- 
 eousness of the Scribes and Pharisees, has intimated 
 that such a righteousness would, to a certain extent, 
 exist in the Church; that there would be some of his 
 professed followers whose religion would begin and 
 end with the cold service of the lip — " Lord ! Lord !" 
 And, from the book of Revelations, we learn, that, 
 before the last of the Apostles had gone to his rest, 
 there was a Church, saying that she was rich and in- 
 creased with goods, and had need of nothing; knowing 
 not that she was wretched, and miserable, and poor, 
 and blind, and naked : that is, that she professed the 
 form of godliness, but knew nothing of, or had for- 
 gotten, its power. It will be proper in this place for us 
 
So PHARISAICAL AND EVANGELICAL 
 
 to inquire, what sort of men among us practice, and 
 trust for salvation to, a Pharisaical righteousness ? 
 Evidently, those whose religion consists entirely in 
 outward acts. The Pharisee, in our day, is a regular 
 attendant at Church, and reverently bends his knee 
 in prayer : but when he prays for forgiveness, it is 
 with no sense of sinfulness ; when he prays to be 
 delivered from sin and evil, from corrupt affections 
 and lusts, it is with no hatred of sin, and with no 
 contrary longing after inward piety and holiness. 
 He professes Him, before men, to whom he has never 
 opened his heart. He is often very active in finding 
 out what his neighbours eat and drink, freely con- 
 demning those who do not in these matters submit 
 their views of riorht and wrong- to his ; meanwhile 
 forgetting that the Kingdom of God is not meat and 
 drink, but righteousness, and peace, and joy in the 
 Holy Ghost. He is apt to be an active member of 
 all sorts of societies, and to think, that if any man 
 prefers a more quiet and less formal way of doing 
 good, he is, as a matter of course, destitute of true 
 religion. There was a time perhaps, when the Chris- 
 tian Pharisee might be described as trusting too 
 much to sacraments, forms of prayer, holy garments, 
 and the observance of holy days. But we have lived 
 to see a day, when men look upon the contempt of 
 these things as an infallible sign of true piety : when 
 men have become the veriest formalists in the world, 
 in refusing to observe forms ; in thinking as much 
 that it is acceptable to God to slight, despise, and 
 omit, certain rites and ceremonies, as another sort of 
 man, in an elder day, deemed that it was acceptable 
 
RIGHTEOUSNESS. 89 
 
 to observe and highly esteem them. The Pharisee 
 of our day, imitates, in some sort, the inward work of 
 ri"^hteousness ; condemning- himself as a most miser- 
 able sinner, trusting to violent emotions and strontj 
 fancies as evidences of a state of grace, and yet in- 
 dulgino; in evil speaking, in slander, in covetousness, 
 in envy and hatred : mistaking artificial excitement 
 and morbid states of feeling for that true work of 
 righteousness, the calm, quiet but very painful cruci- 
 fying of self, with Christ, on his Cross. My brethren, 
 let us who call ourselves Christians be very careful 
 to avoid in every way a Pharisaical righteousness. 
 See to it, that you do not so trust to outward observ- 
 ances, as to neglect inward religion. See to it, that 
 you do not so trust to self conceit, and vain imagina- 
 tions, as to slight and omit necessary means of grace. 
 See lo it, so that you do not so trust to your own works, 
 as to forget Christ the onhj Saviour. See to it, that 
 you do not so trust to Christ, the Saviour only of 
 them who earnestly labour to be saved, that you 
 neglect that holiness without which you cannot see 
 the Lord; that righteousness without which you shall 
 in no case enter into the Kingdom of Heaven. 
 
 And if — for I would address another class of peo- 
 ple, some of whom may be present — if they, whose 
 righteousness does not exceed the righteousness of 
 the Scribes and Pharisees, shall not in any wise be 
 saved, what shall become of you, whose righteous- 
 ness falls so far short even of theirs. They prayed 
 often, fasted twice in the week, gave tithes of all they 
 possessed, diligently attended on the public worship 
 of God, and avoided outward violations of the moral 
 
 12 
 
90 PHARISAICAL AND EVANGELICAL 
 
 law. You never pray, never mortify the flesh, give 
 nothing to support the Church, spend the Lord's 
 day in idleness or vicious amusements, or by drunk- 
 enness, uncleanness of profanity, day after day, pro- 
 voke the All Merciful to anger. My brethren, in 
 that day when you shall stand side by side with sin- 
 ful Pharisee and bigoted Scribe, what will your out- 
 ward and inward unrighteousness receive from Him, 
 who accepts not even a partial service, who will be 
 content with nothing but the devotion of the whole 
 man to Himself? 
 
 We have stated briefly some of the characteristics 
 of Pharisaical righteousness. Let us now examine 
 some of the properties of saving righteousness — that 
 righteousness which is not of the law, but by faith 
 in Jesus Christ, The righteousness of the Phaiisee 
 was eye-service, but the righteousness of the true 
 Christian is a spiritual service. For as the aim of 
 the hypocrite is to be seen of men, and applauded, 
 so the aim of the good man is to be known and ap- 
 proved by God. His great question on all occasions 
 is, will this please God ; for his great object is not 
 to be thought, but actually to be, holy : so that his 
 righteousness is the same, seen, as unseen. At 
 Church, he is ever present, and his conduct there is 
 devout and reverential ; and if you follow him to his 
 closet, you will find him unchanged : for in both 
 places he is striving for the approbation of the same 
 Being, whose all-seeing eye, rests upon each indi- 
 vidual heart, alike in the crowded sanctuary, and the 
 quiet chamber. The inward works of religion are 
 eqiiall}^ attended to by the truly righteous man, with 
 
RIGHTEOUSNESS. 91 
 
 the outward. He is seen entering the habitations of 
 vice and misery, to reclaim, comfort and alleviate; 
 but he would look on the law of love, as all neglected, 
 if he did not with equal diligence strive to drive 
 envy, and hatred, and indifference, from his heart. 
 An act of impurity is utterly inconsistent with a 
 state of grace, but a good man shrinks, with equal 
 abhorrence, from an impure thought or wandering 
 desire ; and if even for a moment such thoughts and 
 desires stain his soul, he cannot be at ease until, 
 through repentance, they have been w^ashed away 
 in the blood of Christ. It is in the inward life, after 
 all, that there is the great difterence between the 
 Pharisee and the righteous man. A man of Phari- 
 saical righteousness makes but little account of 
 thoughts, desires, and words ; for he accounts them 
 but little things. The man of inward righteousness 
 dreads an idle word, and wrong thought, almost as 
 much as a malicious or wicked action; for he knows 
 that that can be no true religion, w^hich bridles not 
 the tongue, and that every wrong desire has in it the 
 germ of eternal death: for "lust, when it hath con- 
 ceived, bringeth forth sin ; and sin, when it is finished, 
 bringeth forth death." 
 
 The evangelical righteousness is perfect — not so 
 much in degree, as in will, in sincerity and in endea- 
 vour ; for it consists in an habitual forsaking of sin, 
 and striving to do right. It avoids all sin, and looks 
 upon no sin as little. It cannot retain the smallest 
 sin, for it looks upon the principle of sin with utter 
 abhorrence. Neither is it ever contented with any 
 degree of perfection, but is ever pressing on to still 
 
02 PHARISAICAL AND EVANGELICAL. 
 
 higher and hi<?her attainments. If an anojel from 
 heaven should descend to the side of a truly good 
 man, and tell him that his present attainments would 
 admit him to heaven, do you think that he would sit 
 down contented, and make no farther efforts? No. 
 For he follows goodness now for its own sake. Con- 
 versation with Gcd is to him blessedness. Holiness 
 and goodness, he knows, are the perfection of his 
 being, and he trusts to follow them through eternity. 
 A good man does not ask, with how few works of 
 righteousness can I escape punishment; but how 
 much can I do for my Lord ? But it is not so with 
 the man of the righteousness of the Scribes and 
 Pharisees ; he is like an idle school boy, constantly 
 thinking with how little study he can escape punish- 
 ment. The Pharisee asks, how small part of my 
 substance will God take? The Christian, how 
 much ? The Pharisee, what things must I do to es- 
 cape condemnation ? The Christian, what can I do 
 to please God who has done so much for me ? The 
 one serves because he must. The other, because he 
 may. 
 
 But perhaps the most marked property of evan- 
 gelical righteousness is its profound humility and 
 self abasement. The good man knows that he is 
 nothing of himself, that by the grace of God he is 
 what he is ; that his sins are all that he can truly call 
 his own. At the same time he trusts that he is in a 
 state of spiritual health ; that he is going on from 
 strength to strength ; for there is a marked difference 
 between the children of God and the children of the 
 devil, and "whosoever is born of God, doth not 
 
RIGHTEOUSNESS. 93 
 
 commit sin." But every grace that he has, is a gift 
 of God, through Jesus Christ, and to him he ascribes 
 all the glory. 
 
 And how may this evangelical and perfect righ- 
 teousness be obtained? By a diligent use of all the 
 appointed means, with faith working by love. And 
 it is not attained in a moment. For it is often by a 
 long and tedious and painful process. I mean where 
 persons have become hardened in a long course of 
 sin; for to those who from the baptismal font are 
 brought up to serve the Lord, the work of righteous- 
 ness is far easier. True, in both cases, there is a 
 corrupt nature to contend with, which grace freely 
 given alone can overcome. But the conversion of an 
 habitual sinner from sin to God, is like the turning 
 of a broad full river from its ancient channel, which 
 can only be done by painful labour and many artifi- 
 cial helps. While the religious progress of a person 
 who increases in spiritual stature and strength from 
 the hour of the baptismal birth, resembles the course 
 of a mountain rivulet to the sea. Near its source, 
 and along the first part of the way there are some 
 natural obstructions which oppose its career, and 
 over which it boils and foams; but as its channel 
 deepens, it becomes calmer and clearer, and at last, 
 unobstructed and unopposed, glides serenely on to 
 the ocean. The work of religion or gospel righteous- 
 ness is the work of a life, and in the longest life it 
 is but imperfectly done. How strongly then does 
 the necessity of righteousness, in order to admission 
 into heaven, call upon parents and sponsors to do all 
 in their power to bring up children "to lead a godly 
 
94 PHARISAICAL Ax\D EVANGELICAL 
 
 and a Christian life;" and upon children to preserve 
 their baptismal purity unsullied by sin, and from 
 very childhood to give up their hearts to the Lord. 
 If there were better notions upon this subject, there 
 would be amongst us, in our own hearts, more 
 righteousness exceeding the righteousness of the 
 Scribes and Pharisees. But we have a notion that 
 children must grow up, sinning, and increasing in 
 sin, until a certain moment, when they are to be con- 
 verted ; and then suppose that they will be as well 
 off as if they had been sanctified from their birth. 
 But though a hardened sinner may be late in life by 
 the mercy of God savingly converted, yet he never 
 can be in as good a state as those w^ho have served 
 God from their youth upwards. For he must bear, 
 till death, the scars of sin in his soul, though the 
 wounds will be healed; and the remembrance of sin 
 must oftentimes cloud his joy and peace. A remem- 
 brance which does not disturb the bliss of the few ; 
 alas, how few — and shame upon Christians that it is 
 so ! — who never know what it is to be habitual sinners. 
 My brethren, "except your righteousness shall ex- 
 ceed the righteousness of the Scribes and Pharisees, 
 you shall in no case enter into the kingdom of hea- 
 ven." And yet, in the face of this solemn admoni- 
 tion there are such, not generally deemed unwise, 
 who put off repentance, that great work of righteous- 
 ness, until the hour of death. And then, in the lan- 
 guor of disease, often accompanied by mental imbe- 
 cility, they expect to do their work. They expect 
 that a minister of Christ kneeling by their bed-side, 
 a few prayers, a few tears, a few thoughts of the 
 
RIGHTEOUSNESS. 95 
 
 Cross, can wipe away their sins, make the blasphe- 
 mer lit to join angelic songs, the unclean a meet 
 companion for the saints in light, yea, for the sinless 
 source of purity. My brethren, some of you are in 
 an impenitent state. Have you calmly made up your 
 minds not to begin to repent to-day? Then it is 
 quite possible that the bed of death will be the place 
 allotted for that work. Think it not cruelt}' if you 
 are told then, in answer to your agonizing inquiries, 
 yours is an almost hopeless case. For when God. 
 says that without holiness no man shall see His 
 face, and promises eternal life only to those who "by 
 patient continuance in well-doing seek for glory, 
 honour and immortality," no man ought to say, no 
 man can say, that the penitent of an hour, or a day, 
 is in a state of salvation. And in such cases to speak 
 of the certainty of salvation, is all but making our 
 blessed Lord a minister of sin. These thincrs are not 
 said to cast gloom over the past, or doubt over the 
 dead. God alone is our judge. But to incite every 
 impenitent person here, in the view of the indispen- 
 sable necessity of personal holiness, to begin, this 
 very day, the great work of inward, spiritual salva- 
 tion. And may we all, my brethren, whether stand- 
 ing by grace, or mercifully recovering from a long 
 course of sin, or rising from a temporary fall; while 
 we thankfully read over the Cross — " Mercy for the 
 past," keep in mind that it bears too the solemn in- 
 scription — written as it were in letters of blood — "Ho- 
 linessfor the future.'''' 
 
SERMON VII. 
 
 RECOGNITION OF FRIENDS IN THE WORLD OF 
 SPIRITS. 
 
 I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me. 
 
 2 Samdel xii. part of 23d. 
 
 Strong as may be the curiosity existing in us all to 
 wring the secrets of the unseen world from the dumb 
 future, the sanctified mind will always rest contented 
 with the delightful assurance, that though it doth 
 not yet appear what we shall be, yet when Christ 
 shall appear, " we shall be like Him, for we shall see 
 Him as He is." Yet there is one question connected 
 with our future existence, to which affection, ever 
 prone to hope, still demands an answer; and will not 
 turn away unsatisfied. I mean, the question relating 
 to knowing and loving again our departed friends in 
 Christ, in the world to come. That most of us enter- 
 tain a general notion that it will be so, is undoubtedly 
 a fact, but there are but few who could give a reason 
 for the hope, in the seasons when we most need such 
 a hope to stay the drooping spirit : when we watch 
 by the bed-side of some pale, meek sufferer, fast pass- 
 ing from life ; when we stand by the closing grave of 
 our heart's best beloved; when, ''in thoughts from 
 the visions of the night," the memory of the loved 
 and lost rekindles the fires of old affections, and we 
 begin to fear that we have been cherishing a fond 
 
RECOGNITION OF FRIENDS 97 
 
 dream of fancy, instead of embracing a sober truth 
 clearly deducible from the blessed Book of Life — that 
 our wish, and not reason, is "father to the thought" 
 that has cheered so many death-beds, and that sheds 
 this moment its gleam of light on all the sepulchres 
 by our side. I am sure that no one here will deem 
 a few moments mis-spent, in the investigation of this 
 subject; for there can hardly be one here who has 
 not some dear friend or kinsman asleep in the Lord, 
 whom he longs to meet again ; and God alone knows 
 how soon we shall all need such a hope, to mitigate 
 the bitterness of another parting. There are, it is 
 true, a set of dogmatists, who charge all who venture 
 in the pulpit to depart from one unvarying set of sub- 
 jects, defined by them, as essential truths, with being 
 unevangelical. But the Christian, who know^s the 
 richness and variety of God's written word, and re- 
 members that it is all profitable for doctrine and in- 
 struction in righteousness, will not be afraid to bring 
 forward any topic suitable for public instruction, if 
 he find it clearly contained in, or proveable from, that 
 unerring record. Besides, if it be a fact that we are 
 in the next world to know and continue to love our 
 pious relations and friends, it is one which God, in 
 his good providence, may use for the conversion of 
 the impenitent; and so it is a subject of practical im- 
 portance. Indeed, there are some instances which 
 show that the desire of being united in heaven to those 
 loved on earth has been the means, under God, of 
 leading lost souls away from the paths of sin and 
 death. Not that influenced by such a motive alone, 
 a man could ever attain unto the righteousness which 
 
 13 
 
98 RECOGNITION OF FRIENDS 
 
 is by faith. But a man may begin a certain course 
 of conduct from a lower, and afterwards continue to 
 pursue the same course from a much higher, motive. 
 A flower or a bird may attract the truant school-boy 
 a little w^ay up the mountain's side, when his eye 
 will be caught by the magnificent prospect spreading 
 around him, and he will seek its loftiest peak. So 
 may the soul of man be attracted above the enthral- 
 ments of sin by the loss of a deceased friend in the 
 Lord, and thus be brought within the sphere of the 
 attraction of the love of Christ ; and then, though be- 
 ginning with the love of the creature, go on, from pure 
 love to the good and holy Creator, in the path of 
 eternal assimilation to His glorious image. Viewing 
 then, the consolations to be derived from this truth, 
 (if truth it indeed be,) to those who have been be- 
 reaved of pious friends, and the influence which it 
 may exert in leading some wandering sinner to God; 
 let us examine very briefly the arguments from rev- 
 elation and reason, which may be brought to prove 
 that we are to know and love our friends in heaven. 
 Of course, there cannot be here a full or formal state- 
 ment or defence of all the reasons which could be 
 brought. A very few must suffice to-day; and one 
 or two common objections will come under notice. 
 
 It may be admitted, if any one demand the admis- 
 sion, that this truth is no where formally declared in 
 the Bible. But this is no evidence that it is not to 
 be found there. The same remark holds good of 
 some very important truths of revelation; which, 
 though they can be plainly collected and gathered 
 from its various parts, are not formally stated in any 
 
IN THE WORLD OF SPIRITS. 99 
 
 one place. The Scriptures, from their various allu- 
 sions to the subject under consideration, evidently 
 take its truth as acknowledged. Now the first ar- 
 gument from Scripture is drawn from our Saviour's 
 conversation with the Sadducees, recorded in three 
 of the four Gospels, in the course of which they put 
 to Him the case of the wife of the seven brethren ; in 
 the hope of thus showing the absurdity of the Avhole 
 doctrine of a resurrection from the dead. From the 
 record of this conversation, we may safely infer that 
 the Jews, in our Saviour's time, with the exception 
 of the Sadducees, who denied any resurection, believed 
 that the spirits of the departed would know and love 
 each other. Now if this was a false notion, our Sa- 
 viour certainly would have proved or alluded to its 
 unsoundness, at that very time. He corrected one 
 wTong notion advanced, by telling them that the 
 marriage relation was to cease with this life. But if 
 it is untrue that we are to know and love our pious 
 friends in the world of spirits, our Saviour instead 
 of saying, that ''in the resurrection they will neither 
 marry nor give in marriage," would surely have said, 
 that they wdio had known and loved each other on 
 earth, would altogether cease to know and love, in the 
 resurrection. It must be granted, that our Saviour 
 has admitted the truth of this matter, by his silence, 
 at a time when he was especially engaged in correct- 
 ing wrong views of the whole subject of the future 
 life. 
 
 The words selected for a text clearly show% that the 
 sweet Psalmist of Israel believed in this doctrine and 
 rejoiced for the consolation ; " I shall go to him, but 
 
100 RECOGNITION OF FRIENDS 
 
 he shall not return to me." There have been men cold 
 enough and absurd enough to interpret these words, 
 of David's being buried in the same sepulchre vv^ith 
 his child. But the context proves the unsoundness 
 of the explanation; since the words, "can I bring 
 him back again," evidently refer to a spiritual, and 
 not to a bodily, return. He could bear back, from the 
 hungry tomb, the little one, in the pale, sweet sleep 
 of death. But the soul, the life-giving spirit, the 
 bitterest grief could not recal. So must the words, 
 " I shall go to him," refer to a living, actual re-union, 
 not to a mingling of dust with parent dust. It is 
 impossible for a moment to suppose, that a man of 
 king David's sympathies and affections, and sublime 
 views of God, and of heaven, could sit down, in the 
 hour of his bereavement, and comfort himself with 
 the cold hope, that he should be buried with his 
 child; or the truism that he also must die. No: 
 he must have clung to the hope, that he should after 
 death be re-united to his child, that the affection 
 hardly commenced on earth, should be revived in 
 heaven, when that little spark of life, that gleamed 
 but for a moment, rekindled above, should beam 
 among the righteous, shining forth " as the sun, in 
 the Kingdom of the Father." 
 
 In the 14th Chapter of Isaiah, the King of Babylon 
 is represented, as descending into the place of departed 
 spirits, and being recognized by the deceased kings 
 and mighty men, who rise from their shadowy thrones, 
 to welcome him to the orrira abode, exclaiminof — " Art 
 thou also become as weak as we ? Art thou become 
 like one of us?" And, in one of our Saviour's pa- 
 
IN THE WORLD OF SPIRITS. 101 
 
 rabies, the rich man, Lazarus and Abraham are 
 described, as knowing and conversing with each other. 
 Now note, these two passages should not be brought 
 directly to prove the point we labour to establish; 
 but they certainly do show, what was the common 
 opinion, both in the times of Isaiah and our Saviour: 
 and we can hardly think that such an opinion would 
 ever be treated as true, in God's word, if it were 
 false. 
 
 Our Lord tells the wicked Jews, that as they are 
 forever departing from heaven, into outer dark- 
 ness, they will catch glimpses of the old patriarchs 
 and prophets, entering into felicity; while millions 
 from the four quarters of the earth, come to sit down 
 with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, in the Kingdom 
 of God. Now, if the wicked are to know patriarchs 
 and prophets, if the good are to rejoice in the com- 
 pany of Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, we are cer- 
 tain that some of the saints in heaven are to be 
 known and loved, under the same names which they 
 had, and as the same personages which they were, on 
 earth. Now, if some are to be so known and loved, 
 there is every reason to think that it will be so with 
 all ; which conclusion is confirmed by certain pas- 
 sages in the book of Revelation, in which certain 
 bodies of saints are said to be known as those who had 
 passed through peculiar afflictions on earth. And St. 
 Paul speaks of the living union which is to exist among 
 the spirits of just men made perfect ; which could 
 hardly be, if they are not to know each other in heaven, 
 as the same persons known on earth. 
 
 There are two passages in the Epistles of St. Paul, 
 
102 RECOGNITION OF FRIENDS 
 
 which show that he expected to know his friends in 
 the world to come ; for he tells the Colossians that he 
 labours to " present every man perfect in Christ 
 Jesus," and the Thessalonians, that they would be his 
 "joy, and hope, and crown of rejoicing in the presence 
 of the Lord Jesus Christ at his coming:" evidently 
 showing that he confidently expected to know his 
 faithful converts at the last day. And if he is to know 
 them at the commencement of the future life, surely 
 that knowledge will continue through endless ages ; 
 for it can hardly be supposed that pious friends will, 
 for a moment, be re-united at the day of judgment, 
 immediately to be separated again and forever. 
 
 But one of the strongest passages upon the subject 
 is to be found in the fourth chapter of the first Epistle 
 to the Thessalonians ; where Christians are taught 
 not to sorrow as men without hope for them which 
 are asleep, because God will bring back those who 
 sleep in Jesus. The Apostle then goes on to describe 
 the resurrection — that the dead and the living shall 
 be caught up together in the clouds, to meet the Lord 
 in the air, to be forever with the Lord. Now this 
 passage evidently was written for the consolation of 
 mourners. But what a mockery of sorrow, to tell 
 them that their dead were living unto God, unless it 
 was meant to convey the promise of a blissful re-union 
 to the dead in Christ. If Christians, relatives and 
 friends, are not to know and love each other in the 
 world of spirits, then all the consolation we shall 
 ever have, with reference to the departed, we have 
 now and here. We know now that they live unto 
 God: we can know no more in Eternity. Even the 
 
IN THE WORLD OF SPIRITS. 103 
 
 religion of Christ must leave the sepulchre in gloomy 
 shadows. We may know that our dead are blest, 
 but to us they are lost forever. But it is not so, 
 Christian brethren. We are told not to sorrow without 
 hope ! But the hope of what ? That our dead shall 
 rise ? And how can that hope ever be fulfilled unless 
 we meet them face to face ; and know, even as we have 
 known, them in the time of our mortal life. 
 
 These are the only tests which wall now be brought 
 to prove the point in question. I think it must be 
 admitted, that they all either directly or indirectly 
 prove, that we are to know and love, in the world of 
 spirits, those whom we knew and loved on earth : 
 and that, taken together and rightly arranged, they 
 make a perfect chain of evidence. In addition to 
 these, there are certain facts recorded in the Bible, 
 which seem to have a bearing upon this question. 
 The spirit of Samuel was known after his death by 
 Saul and his sons; certain of his saints arose after 
 Christ's resurrection, and appeared unto many who 
 were enabled to know them ; and Moses and Elijah 
 were recognized on the mount of the transfiguration, 
 by the trembling Apostles, chosen to be the compan- 
 ions of our Lord, at that mysterious hour. Now, if in 
 all these visitations from the world of spirits, the 
 departed were recognized by the living; is there not 
 reason to believe that it will be so, that it is even 
 now so, in the land of souls. If Moses and Elijah 
 were recognized by St. Peter, St. James, and St. John 
 here, is there any reason for believing that they are un- 
 known to each other now, or that they will be unknown 
 to each other, throughout eternity ? I would not build 
 
104 RECOGNITION OF FRIENDS 
 
 too strongly on such mysterious facts as these ; but they 
 certainly carry some weight of presumptive evidence, 
 in favour of the truth of the doctrine under discus- 
 sion : and we may safely infer, that as such of the 
 departed saints as have returned to earth, have been 
 recognized, so will all the people of God, in the life 
 to come, know each other, even as they are known. 
 
 In connection with revelation, reason can furnish 
 some arguments for the probability of a recognition 
 of each other by the departed. It should seem that 
 in no more suitable way can some of God's righteous 
 purposes be carried into effect. We are told that the 
 eminently good are to be eminently rewarded, and 
 that openly. But how can this be, unless they are 
 known by their associates, and recognized as those 
 who on earth were wise, and turned many to 
 righteousness; and now, in the fulfilment of the pro- 
 mise, are shining, as the sun in the firmament, and as 
 the stars, forever and forever? Again, there are nu- 
 merous inequalities of condition, and much apparent 
 injustice here, which are to be corrected in the next 
 life. We here too often see virtue suffering and 
 afflicted, while sin is in prosperity; but that is all 
 to be reversed in the world to come. But unless we 
 see the virtuous crowned with glory and honour and 
 immortality, how shall we feel assured that God's 
 promises have been made good? True, He can and 
 may see fit to give us that assurance, in some other 
 way. But does it not seem (w^e speak with reve- 
 rence) most conformable to the fitness of things, to 
 acquaint us with the fact, by suffering us to know the 
 persons of these holy men, and with our own eyes to 
 
IN THE WORLD OF SPIRITS. 105 
 
 witness their unspeakable blessedness? And consider 
 in what singular and peculiar condition all men will 
 be, if they should not be allowed, in the next life, 
 to recognize each other. We must forever bear the 
 memory of the things and scenes and persons of this 
 life ; but in that case we must bear them alone. We 
 shall go on side by side with millions and millions 
 of ransomed, and yet never look back with them on 
 the troubles and trials in which all participated in 
 the passage through the valley of tears. The faith- 
 ful pastor and his beloved people will be in heaven 
 together; but they can never meet to rejoice in the 
 victory gained side by side in the hour of temptation. 
 The blessed Apostles will all be around the throne of 
 the Lord, yet all unknown to each other. Latimer 
 and Ridley who were burned at the same stake, and 
 up to the last moment of consciousness cheered and 
 supported each other, by fervent prayers and bold 
 words of faith and victorious psalms, upon this sup 
 position have never met since the hour of their fiery 
 Baptism ; and though now, as we may well believe, 
 together in Paradise, yet know nothing of each other's 
 felicity. Pious husbands and wives, brothers and 
 sisters, children and parents who perished together, 
 in the wild billows, the raging fire, or the wasting- 
 pestilence ; hoping and expecting to enter together 
 into rest, were separated in the agony of death, and 
 will know each other no more forever. My brethren, 
 is not such a supposition entirely unreasonable ? Can 
 we believe that our affections were given us to be 
 all poured out here? Can we believe that our mer- 
 ciful Creator would permit us up to the latest mo- 
 
 14 
 
106 RECOGNITION OF FRIENDS 
 
 ment of life to love the dead and to cherish their me- 
 mory, if we are never to behold them again? The 
 old Philosophers thought that the soul's longing af- 
 ter immortality was an evidence that it could never 
 die: for they could not think that God would im- 
 plant any right desire in the soul, unless it was His 
 intention to satisfy it. And may not we as Chris- 
 tians, look upon the intense longing that we have for 
 a re-union to our loved and lost, as a pledge that it 
 will be so? Surely, unless such changes are to take 
 place in our spiritual and physical constitutions as 
 will destroy personal identity — and that such will be 
 the case is not in any way probable — we shall, if 
 ourselves true Christians, when delivered from the 
 burden of the flesh be re-united, forever to those dear 
 relatives and friends who have died in the Lord. 
 
 There are tw^o principal objections urged against 
 this doctrine, which it will be necessary to notice in 
 passing. The first is, that if we are to recognize our 
 pious friends in the next world, we shall also most of 
 us be compelled to know that other friends and rela- 
 tives are in outer darkness, with the devil and his 
 angels; which knowledge would impair the felicity 
 of heaven. And so, to get rid of this difiiculty, some 
 have maintained that at the resurrection we are not 
 to recoQfnize those whom w^e have knowm and loved 
 in this life. My brethren, let the dreadful thought 
 that some of those near and dear to us, may be 
 forever lost, quicken us like a cry from the regions 
 where hope never comes, to do all in our power by 
 unceasing prayer, by holy living, by words instant 
 in season and out of season, to procure from God the 
 
IN THE WORLD OF SPIRITS. 107 
 
 conversion of every heart cherished by us, that has 
 not been given up to God. But the knowledge that 
 any of our friends have been lost, will not be permit- 
 ted to mar our heavenly bliss. And even if we 
 should not be allowed to know each other in the next 
 world, how would this remedy the difficulty sug- 
 gested in the objection. In that case we should 
 not know who of our friends were or were not saved : 
 and so, unless all interest in them is to be lost, we 
 must pass eternity in a fearful state of uncertainty. 
 Moreover, we shall know that a part of the human 
 family is lost ; and with our present views, one would 
 think that this knowledge would take from our joy. 
 But those of us who are so happy as to get to heaven 
 will, we may be assured, have such clear views of 
 the goodness and justice of God, in all his ways and 
 works, that even the eternal pangs of the finally im- 
 penitent will not destroy, or even render imperfect, 
 our happihess. This is an awful topic, one to be ap- 
 proached with reverence and godly fear, and not to 
 be dwelt upon too long. Let the thoughts suggested, 
 I may repeat the admonition, make us all more 
 active in labouring, each in his own order, for the 
 salvation of all the persons in any way under our 
 influence. 
 
 A second objection brought against the doctrine is, 
 that a renewal of the affection between friends natu- 
 rally following a mutual recognition in heaven, 
 would interfere with that supreme love to God, and 
 that supreme pleasure in his love and presence, 
 which are to constitute the blessedness of the life of 
 glory. But this is much more easily asserted than 
 
108 RECOGNITION OF FRIENDS 
 
 proved. The Bible tells us that we are to love 
 others in heaven beside, or rather, with, in and 
 through God, such as the faithful patriarchs and pro- 
 phets; and the same scripture that speaks of our 
 union with Jesus, the Mediator of the new covenant, 
 and with God the Judge of all, speaks too of our 
 present and future fellowship with angels, with the 
 Church of the first born, and the spirits of just men 
 made perfect. And surely the love to our pious rela- 
 tions and friends can no more interfere with our love 
 and duty to God, than our love to other holy men, or 
 to angels. Besides, the objection seems to be founded 
 in false views of God's requirements of us, and of the 
 nature of the love of God. God does not demand 
 our supreme affections to increase his own hap- 
 piness, which nothing can either increase or dimi- 
 nish ; but to make us blessed. And who loves man 
 best in this world? The man who loves God most. 
 And who loves his relations and friends most? The 
 true Christian. And who is he described in the 
 Bible as destitute of natural affection? The un- 
 godly and the impious. And so will it be in the life 
 to come. St. John exhorts us, not to cease loving 
 all but our God, but to love one another, "for love is 
 of God." And as the principle of godly love is the 
 same now that it will be forever, for " charity never 
 faileth," we may be assured that love to all the saints 
 will be in heaven, as it is upon earth, a necessary part 
 of supreme love to our Maker. And what a sublime 
 and touching thought it is, that the soul, though 
 forever increasing in love to the infinite God, and 
 embracing in the purest friendship, all holy intelli- 
 
IN THE WORLD OF SPIRITS. 109 
 
 gences in the universe, from the archangel veiling 
 his radiant brow in the dazzling glory of the imme- 
 diate presence of the Lord of lords, down to the 
 least of all the saints, will nevertheless cherish with 
 intense affection those who grew up with it around 
 the same fireside, knelt with it at the same altar, 
 shared with it the changes and chances, the lights 
 and shadows of life, or soothed with kindly attention 
 the painful bed of death ! 
 
 Standing, then, upon the foundation of God's word, 
 the minister of Christ may proclaim this doctrine full 
 of hope, that pious friends will know and love each 
 other in the life to come ; and may thus be furnished 
 with a new motive to repentance, another reason for 
 progress in holiness, and the most cheering consola- 
 tion for pious mourners for the dead in Christ. 
 
 This truth which has just been defended furnishes 
 to the impenitent and unconverted, who have pious 
 friends, either living or dead, anew motive to repent- 
 ance. In almost every family there exists a diversity 
 of feeling and conduct about the one thing needful, 
 true religion ; some serving and loving God, some 
 disobeying and hating, or totally indifferent to Him. 
 My brethren, some of you are living either as rela- 
 tives or friends, in habits of intimacy and sincere 
 affection, with those whose principles of action, whose 
 wills and hearts, are very different from yours. They 
 have chosen the "better part;" you are neglecting 
 the " great salvation." And now, I beseech you, 
 when in the happy family circle, or in the society of 
 such friends, to pause and calmly reflect, that you 
 are going on in such a course, that in a few years. 
 
110 RECOGNITION OF FRIENDS 
 
 at the most, you must be forever separated from the 
 companions of your daily walk, and the partakers of 
 your best affections. In a little while, they will cease 
 — it must be so in heaven, where a thought of im- 
 purity cannot enter — to love you ; and you will go 
 away into outer darkness, treasuring up forever a 
 bitter remembrance of that sweet communion with 
 them, which was once yours, which might ever have 
 been yours, which ijou can taste never, never again ! 
 May this thought bring you to God ! May this re- 
 flection lead you to know how infinitely dreadful it 
 will be to be banished from your Saviour's presence 
 to return no more ; or to cease to share that love 
 which passeth knowledge; rich enough to overflow 
 the hearts of all men, poor enough to be rejected by 
 the great part of a redeemed world! Or there may 
 be some here leading ungodly or worldly lives, chil- 
 dren of parents passed into the skies, or parents of 
 little ones who died in their sinless infancy, in whose 
 hearts dried up in the ways of sin and the world, a 
 love for the departed is the only un withered thing. 
 And do you long to behold them once again? Unless 
 you sincerely and solemnly and deeply repent, your 
 eyes will never be so blessed. Or you will catch but 
 a faint glimpse of them, as they pass from the right 
 hand of the judgment seat, following Christ into his 
 glory ; while you are hurried away with despairing 
 throngs, into everlasting punishment. Son, who 
 will not listen to the voice of God, hear from the cold 
 grave the voice of the mother who prayed for you, 
 and repent. Parent, exhorted again and again to be 
 saved, in all the appointed ways, and entreated in 
 
IN THE WORLD OF SPIRITS. Ill 
 
 vain, shall the love of the little one, taken from you 
 to a better Parent have no povv^er to draw your heart, 
 to heaven ? Are you unwiUing to entrust yourself to 
 Him who has your dearest treasure ? 
 
 And, brethren, those of us who are so happy as to 
 have a good hope, through grace, of meeting, our 
 loved and lost in the world of spirits, have in this 
 hope a strong incitement to be dihgent in the work 
 of sanctification, another reason for progress in holi- 
 ness. They whom we mourn, and to whom we hope 
 to be re-united, are beyond the reach of sin; they have 
 awaked up after the likeness of God and are satisfied 
 with it. If we expect to renew our friendship with 
 them, we must try to do like them; for in heaven those 
 most like to God will be nearest to Him, and those 
 nearest to Him will be nearest and dearest to each 
 other. Strive we, then, to purify ourselves from every 
 spot of sin, that through the blood of Christ, we all 
 may be made meet partakers of the inheritance of the 
 saints in light. Or, when enticed to do wrong, or when 
 in the stir of busy life our better feelings, our affec- 
 tions for the pious dead, are in danger of being dried 
 up ; call we to mind, their pure and changeless affec- 
 tion for us : and ask how w^e could bear to leave them 
 unchanged, and pure, behold aught of change or sin 
 in us. Such a thought, by the grace of God, may 
 prove a strong shield in the day of temptation, and 
 bring us at the last to sit down side by side in the 
 Kingdom of God, with those beloved friends who 
 have entered before us into rest. 
 
 Lastly, what' words can convey the consolation 
 afforded by our subject to pious mourners for the 
 
112 RECOGNITION OF FRIENDS 
 
 dead in Christ? It is better to leave it by its still 
 and holy and soothing influence to heal the broken 
 heart of the Christian, sorrowing but not without 
 hope for his dead. It must ever wring the heart to 
 commit its treasures^ *'dust to dust." But with this 
 hope, what a different appearance is given to the tomb! 
 It must ever be for weak human nature a dread and 
 awful thing to die. But how will it rob death of its 
 pangs and tears, to know that father and mother, 
 brothers and sisters, children and friends will receive 
 us at the gate of paradise ! Oh, what a moment it 
 will be when friends recognizing friends come to- 
 gether forever ! The weary sick bed and the agony 
 of the long last look, the gloom of the house of death, 
 the mournful pageantry of the funeral will fade away 
 from remembrance, when the eye whose last glare 
 was soulless and without meaning, shall beam upon 
 us as of old, and the hand that when last touched 
 was cold and motionless, shall return with its wonted 
 warmth the kindly pressure of friendship. Mourner 
 for the dead in Christ, weep with your Saviour ; 
 ^or they shall not return to you ! Mourner for the 
 dead in Christ, be joyful in your risen Lord; for you 
 shall go to them ! 
 
SERMON VIII. 
 
 IDOLATRY AMONG CHRISTIANS. 
 
 Every man of the house of Israel that setteth up his idols in hia 
 heart, and putteth the stumbling block of his iniquity before his 
 face, and cometh to the prophet, I the Lord will answer him that 
 Cometh according to the multitude of his idols. 
 
 EzEKiEL 14, part of the 4th verse. 
 
 The sin reproved in these words of the prophet to 
 elders of Israel, is by no means an uncommon one 
 with men. In all ages of the Church, and under 
 both dispensations, there have been worshippers of 
 God, of whom the Lord thus solemnly complains to 
 His servant, "They come unto thee as the people 
 cometh, and they sit before thee as my people, and 
 they hear thy words but they will not do them : for 
 with their mouth they show much love, but their 
 heart goeth after their covetousness." This sin, 
 then, being a common one, may well employ our at- 
 tention for a few moments, this evening; for it may 
 be feared that some of us have just engaged in our 
 solemn service having idols set up in our hearts, or 
 bearing along with us to the footstool of the Holy 
 One a burden of iniquity from which we have no de- 
 sire to be delivered. If so, let it be remembered, 
 that our prayers will never mount up to heaven ; or 
 if they ascend there, will return, swift messengers of 
 wrath, to blast us forever. It will be seen in the re- 
 
 15 
 
114 IDOLATRY AMONG CHRISTIANS. 
 
 marks now to be offered upon this passage of God's 
 word, what the precise sin is, which is here pointed 
 out; also, the way in which the elect people of God 
 commit the same sin at present ; and the nature of 
 the punishment threatened, in the concluding words 
 of the text. 
 
 The elders of Israel, to whom the words now un- 
 der consideration were first addressed, come to the 
 prophet Ezekiel, to inquire of him, or rather to ask 
 counsel of the Lord, through the prophet, concern- 
 ing the calamities which threatened Jerusalem. But 
 the law of God made this their bounden duty, and 
 so the sinfulness of the act consisted not in its mere 
 performance. Nor had these elders openly or secret- 
 ly renounced the service of God; but along with 
 God they had associated Baalim and Ashtaroth, as 
 objects of worship. And it was this union, or this 
 attempt at a union, between the true God and idols, 
 that made their coming to inquire of the Lord so 
 abominable in His sight. Then too, they not only 
 had set up these idols in their heart, but they had 
 put the stumbling-block of their iniquity before their 
 face; they came boldly up before the Lord without 
 taking any pains to give up their sins, and without 
 any intention so to do. They came from their idols' 
 temples to inquire of the Lord, and then they meant 
 to return to their rebellion. They paused, as it w^ere, 
 in the midst of their wickedness, to increase its hein- 
 ousness and guilt, by asking counsel of the Lord, 
 against 'whom they had so grievously sinned; and 
 against whom it was their deliberate intention to goon 
 sinning. And lastly, they came before the Lord, not in 
 
IDOLATRY AMONG CHRISTIANS. 115 
 
 answer to His requirement, but driven by intense fear. 
 Famine and fire, pestilence and sword, were about 
 them ; and so they snatched up their idols, and pres- 
 sing them to their hearts, came, trembling and afraid, 
 to Jehovah, to ask His assistance and direction, to ask 
 Him to countenance them in their impiety, to protect 
 them in their idolatry, to give them life and liberty, 
 that they might employ them in sin ! I think you 
 now see plainly the nature of the offence reproved 
 by the prophet. 
 
 It was said that the same sin has abounded in all 
 ages ; and so, of course it exists in our own : and I 
 think that a little consideration will convince us of 
 the fact. The sinfulness of idolatry consists in the 
 giving to idols, or to any objects regarded as gods, 
 that homage, worship and service which are due to 
 the Creator and Source of all things. It will be 
 generally allowed that this sin of idolatry may be 
 committed, and, alas ! is committed amongst us, by 
 giving to any created object or thing, those affec- 
 tions, which rightly belong to God. Well then, any 
 man so regarding anything in this world, that he is 
 prevented from loving God supremely, and still at- 
 tempting to serve God while he gives his affections 
 supremely to some other object; or any man attempt- 
 ing to worship God while he wilfully and habitually 
 clings to any one sin ; is guilty of the iniquity of in- 
 quiring of the Lord, while idols reign in his heart, 
 and iniquity is borne unblushing on his brow. With 
 this general statement of the nature of the sin before 
 us we may profitably come down to particulars, and 
 see what sorts oi people commit this great sin, and 
 
116 IDOLATRY AMONG CHRISTIANS. 
 
 under what circumstances it is sometimes committed. 
 And here let it be remarked that some persons are 
 guilty of this crime who are utterly unconscious of 
 it; they are so deluded that they have no idea that 
 their religion is a horrible mockery. So that others 
 besides the conscious hypocrite may be prepared to 
 examine themselves touching this great sin. It may 
 astonish you to hear, but it is nevertheless a fact, that 
 some notoriously wicked persons have been regular 
 and constant in their private devotions, and apparent- 
 ly without being conscious of the inconsistency of 
 their daily lives with their daily prayers. On cer- 
 tain sea-coasts the rude inhabitants are wont to come 
 on shore during a storm, to watch for vessels ; and if 
 any be descried, they engage devoutly in supplica- 
 tion to the God of storms, that it may please Him to 
 cast them on their coasts, that they may be enriched 
 by the plunder. I mention these extraordinary cases 
 to show how strongly and fearfully the human 
 heart does sometimes deceive itself about its state 
 with God. 
 
 Every inconsistent follower of Christ is guilty of 
 this sin of serving the Lord with idols set up in the 
 heart. Persons who come to the communion, for 
 instance, profess not to think themselves better than 
 other men ; on the contrary, they thus avow them- 
 selves frail and lost sinners who need free grace, and 
 an all-sufficient Saviour. But they do profess to hate 
 sin, to desire to forsake it utterly, and to become 
 wholly sanctified. If then any communicant is living 
 in habitual sin of any kind, he comes before the Lord 
 with his iniquity and his idols. And surely his sin 
 
IDOLATRY AMONG CHRISTIANS. 117 
 
 is far greater in degree than that of the elders of 
 Israel : for he comes to the Saviour of sinners — to 
 Him who was once bowed with the burden of our 
 sins — that he may cause Him to bleed afresh, and 
 undergo again the tortures of the Cross. 
 
 Persons who repent, or think that they repent, in 
 sickness, are too often guilty of the same sin. There 
 are but few so hardened that they can view the ap- 
 proach of death unmoved. The fierce storm of the 
 waves rushing in upon the strained vessel, brings 
 prayer to lips which had just given vent to curses 
 and imprecations. A few weeks of sickness seldom 
 fail to correct the wildest and wickedest profligate 
 into a trembling penitent. But how many such peni- 
 tents come to the Lord with idols in their hearts, and 
 sin on their forehead ! The fear of death has stilled 
 the clamour of lusts and passions for a season, and 
 that fear brings the man to Him in whose hands are 
 life and death. But his prayers are chiefly for life, 
 for health and strength. True, he does speak of sor- 
 row for past sins. He does speak of pardon, through 
 the blood of Christ. But the grave is open at his 
 feet; and he is reasonable enough to expect a fearful 
 retribution if it closes upon him unforgiven. A few 
 more weeks pass on. The manly limbs receive fresh 
 strength. The cheek is again suffused with the glow 
 of health. And he springs from his couch, to com- 
 mence anew his career of vice and profanity. Where 
 now are his prayers? Where now his solemn vows? 
 That man came to the Lord through fear, with sin 
 unsubdued in his heart. He has been answered ac- 
 cordins to his idols. 
 
118 IDOLATRY AMONG CHRISTIANS. 
 
 Persons who come to the Lord, having an inordi- 
 nate love of pleasure or riches, always come with 
 idols in their hearts. When they pray, their prayers 
 are chiefly for the increase of those very things which 
 interfere with their duty to God. When they say, 
 "give us this day our daily bread ;" they think rather 
 of" the meat that perisheth," than of " the true bread 
 which Cometh down from heaven." When they say, 
 "deliver us from evil;" they wish to be kept rather 
 from bodily harm and earthly losses, than from the 
 only real evil, sin. Sometimes a man makes a sort 
 of covenant with himself, that he will partially serve 
 the Lord, until he has acquired a certain amount of 
 this world's good, and then he will give himself 
 wholly up to His service. In this case, precisely 
 the same sin is committed as that of which the Jew- 
 ish elders were guilty. They came to the Lord, 
 meaning still to worship Moloch and Thammuz. 
 This man goes to Church, says his prayers, observes 
 some outward precepts of morality, meaning to de- 
 vote his heart to the lusts of pleasure and riches. 
 
 We may gather, then, from what has been said, 
 that every professional Christian who clings to any 
 sin, who loves any being or thing better than God, 
 whether parents, or children, or friends, or pleasure, 
 or fame, is guilty of the sin of which I have been 
 speaking. My dear brethren, examine yourselves 
 very seriously as to this point, whether there be any 
 idols in your hearts — any unforsaken sins before 
 your face. You serve the Lord. Why do you serve 
 Him? Is it for any selfish purpose? Is it from a 
 sincere desire to do what is risrht? Remember that 
 
IDOLATRY AMONG CHRISTIANS. 119 
 
 common truth, that God sees the heart; that you 
 cannot deceive Him. Better never pray, than pray 
 in wilful sin. Better never commune, than com- 
 mune with the intention of breaking the solemn 
 covenant there renewed. Better, I had almost said, 
 go honestly into the ranks of sin and Satan, than to 
 walk with the followers, and in the garb, of Christ 
 to the end of the world; and then to be shamefully 
 exposed, as hypocrites, before men and angels. 
 
 The nature of the punishment denounced against 
 this sin is well worthy of consideration. "I the 
 Lord will answer him that cometh according: to the 
 multitude of his idols." This may be explained in 
 two ways. It either means that on account of the 
 idols, God will turn a deaf ear to the prayer of the 
 idolater ; or that he will give him up to the desires, 
 wishes and delusions of his deceived and wicked 
 heart. God undoubtedly punishes such worshippers 
 in both ways. Some hypocrites and self-deceivers 
 never seem to have their prayers answered. The 
 words die on the cold lips, and the petition is forgot- 
 ten by the suppliant ; although it is recorded in His 
 book, to whom the prayer of the wicked is an abomi- 
 nation. Others more wicked, more bent, as it should 
 seem, upon the service of their idols, have their 
 requests fearfully granted. They are answered " ac- 
 cording to the multitude of their idols !" That sick 
 profligate asks for health rather than holiness; for 
 the love of sin lurks in his unpurified heart. God 
 hears his prayer. Health re-invigorates his frame, 
 and he uses it to work out his everlasting destruction. 
 That avaricious man prays for property. He knows 
 
120 IDOLATRY AMONG CHRISTIANS. 
 
 his liability to covetousness. He knows that money 
 may be his ruin. He receives many kind admoni- 
 tions to forbear. But no ! his heart is set upon his 
 idol. At last, God answers him according to his idoL 
 Wealth pours upon him and he still grasps at more. 
 Perhaps the' next time he prays sincerely to God is 
 in that place from which God refuses to hear prayer. 
 The affection of a human being may be earnestly de- 
 sired : and prayer is put up that it may be obtained. 
 Well, it is proper to seek affection. It is right to 
 make known all our wants to God. But such a thing 
 may be prayed for without the spirit, " Not my 
 will but Thine be done." Sought though without 
 such a spirit the object may be granted ; and then a 
 soul, made for the enjoyment of God, rests satisfied 
 with the possession of a creature. Rests satisfied ? 
 No, that cannot be. But it will not feel its wants 
 until that beautiful morning, when the children of 
 God shall awake up satisfied in His likeness, and 
 then they can never be appeased. In its eternal des- 
 titution that soul will look back upon the objects of 
 its adoration and see that it was answered according 
 to the multitude of its idols. We have read of per- 
 sons bent on murder who prayed for the approach of 
 their victims. And it may be that that wonderful 
 man who in the early part of the present century 
 made Europe a battle field, sometimes awoke from 
 his wild dreams of ambition, to'pray to God, that they 
 might be realized. If so, surely he was answered 
 according to the multitude of his idols : and it was a 
 fearful answer. Grandeur, glory, empire — and then 
 shame, defeat, the loss of all things, contempt, exile, 
 
IDOLATRY AMONG CHRISTIANS. 121 
 
 and the guilt of the blood of millions upon his sink- 
 ing head. I presume not to say that the blood of 
 Christ, has not cleansed his crimsoned soul from its 
 deep stains; but I do say, that in the fate of that 
 strange man we have a strikins^ illustration of the 
 misery of being answered according to the multitudes 
 of one's idols, even in this state of unfinished judg- 
 ments. 
 
 This whole subject teaches men the necessity of 
 making God the great object of his pursuit ; for all 
 other objects, if obtained, may be the means or in- 
 struments of his ruin. Be careful then, my Christian 
 brethren, in pursuing earthly objects. You desire 
 them, and to a certain extent you are right in doing 
 so. You may pray for them, for this is allowed by 
 God. But remember to pray that you may not ob- 
 tain them, unless, being in your possession, they will 
 promote the glory of the Lord, and your own spi- 
 ritual and eternal well-being. Pray for them with 
 an earnest desire that God will decide about granting 
 or withholding them, in reference to these two ends. 
 Otherwise, the best and purest of the beings and 
 things may become your idols ; according to which 
 God in his righteous anger will answer your sinful 
 prayers. The period will come to us all, when com- 
 pared with the ages of eternity then elapsed, the 
 days of our mortal pilgrimage will be as a drop of 
 water to the ocean. Let us all endeavour then here 
 to form a due estimate of earthly objects. Since all 
 of us, whether in the blackness of darkness and 
 despair, or in the presence of the Infinite Jehovah, 
 are destined to realize their nothingness. 
 
 16 
 
SERMON IX. 
 
 CHRIST'S INVITATION IN THE TEMPLE. 
 
 [ For llie Twenty-First Sunday after Trinity.] 
 
 In the last day, that great day of the feast, Jesus stood and cried, 
 saying, If any man thirst let him come to Me and drink. He that 
 believeth on Me, as the Scripture hath said, out of his belly shall 
 
 flow rivers of living water. 
 
 St. John, vii. 37, 38. 
 
 The eighth and last day of the feast of Tabernacles, 
 was one of the most solemn seasons in the Jewish 
 ecclesiastical year; which may be inferred from a 
 common saying of the Jews about it, which, was to 
 this effect, " that he who had not seen that day, had 
 seen no rejoicing." On that day water was brought 
 from Siloam with great pomp and rejoicing. The 
 priests went forth to the fountain, bearing golden 
 vessels upon their heads, and returned to the temple 
 accompanied with festal hymns and triumphant 
 music. There they mingled the water of Siloam 
 with wine, bore it to the High Altar, and poured it 
 upon the Altar and upon the victims to be offered 
 thereon. This was done in grateful commemoration 
 of the water that gushed upon their fathers in the 
 desert from the stony rock; and as a type or 
 emblem — at least, so some of the Jewish learned men 
 tell us — of the blessings to be poured out by the Holy 
 Ghost, in the times of Messiah. 
 
Christ's invitation in the temple. 123 
 
 It was during the performance of this ceremony, 
 while the procession of priests, with songs, and instru- 
 ments of music, and golden vessels of limpid water, 
 swept beneath His eye, and the people looked on 
 with joy and admiration, remembering with grati- 
 tude the miracle that quenched the thirst of their 
 ancestors in the barren wilderness, that the Lord 
 stood and cried, " If any man thirst let him come to 
 Me and drink. He that beleiveth on Me, as the 
 Scripture hath said, out of his belly shall flow rivers 
 of living water." How these words must have thrilled 
 and astonished the crowd upon whose ears they first 
 fell! For a moment the solemn and joyous scene 
 before them was forgotten, and they turned their gaze 
 upon Him, who spake to them as never man spake. 
 Some of them said, " Of a truth this is the Prophet;" 
 " Others said, this is the Christ." But others again 
 doubted, and said, " shall Christ come out of Galilee?" 
 Some of them, we may trust, believed and went to 
 Christ, and never again felt the burning thirst of a 
 soul without its appointed portion — God. But the 
 most of them, M^e may fear, from their after history, 
 soon turned away from their Saviour. In the pomp of 
 the great feast day, in the pouring out of the water 
 upon the sacrifice, in the festal hymns and music, 
 the solemn words of the Lord Jesus were forgotten ; 
 and they hurried on to their appointed place, and 
 perhaps never again recalled His gracious invitation 
 to come to Him and drink, until tormented in the 
 quenchless flame, they begged for drop of a water to 
 alleviate their torments* and begged in vain. 
 
 Mv brethren, the same Lord addresses the same invi- 
 
124 Christ's invitation in the temple. 
 
 tation, and the same favour to you this day. You must 
 not look upon either as idle words, or as words which 
 may be slighted without greatly injuring yourselves. 
 As if the Lord stood here by our Altar, as He stood 
 in the temple of Jerusalem, He invites you now, by 
 the Bible and by His authorized ambassador, to come 
 to him and be satisfied forever. You are as much 
 asked to come and be partakers of the Gospel bless- 
 ings, as if with your own ears you heard the gentle 
 tones of His voice. I trust that many of us have, 
 long ere this, heard His voice and obeyed His gracious 
 call. But there may be some — there may be many, 
 here, who have never come to Christ, to drink of the 
 waters of everlasting life. Let such, before they 
 make up their minds to turn a deaf ear again to their 
 Saviour's merciful invitation, fix their minds for a 
 moment upon these three things : the class of persons 
 called to come to Christ ; what is meant hij coming to 
 Christ; and the blessing here promised to all those 
 who do come to Christ. Blessed Saviour, let not these 
 Thy words return to Thee void of fruit! By the 
 Holy Spirit impress them upon some lost soul ! Bring 
 some weary wanderer away from the broken cisterns 
 that hold no water, to that Fountain whose waters 
 spring up to everlasting life ! 
 
 What sort of people are here invited to come to 
 Christ? The words run " if any man thirst let him 
 come to Me, and drink." Every one then who is 
 tired of the weary pomp and pleasures, cares and 
 vexations of the world and sin, and who desires 
 something better and more enduring than anything 
 he has found here on earth ; every one, no matter how 
 
Christ's invitation in the temple. 125 
 
 great a sinner he has been, who now wants to be 
 pardoned and cleansed from his sins, to be made 
 holy, to be created anew in righteousness and true 
 holiness in the image of his God, and to be made 
 meet for that new w^orld which Christ is preparing 
 for those who love Him, is asked to come without 
 money and Avithout price — without anything to re- 
 commend him to the notice and favour of Christ, and 
 take all these blessings, blessings which pass all un- 
 derstanding, freely. It will do no good to say more 
 upon this point. Almost any child can understand 
 what sort of people are here called to our Saviour — 
 that is all who want to come. Well, now, perhaps I 
 shall be told by some honest rejecter of Christ — " I 
 do not desire to come to Christ. I do not thirst for 
 His spiritual blessings," My friend, do not be too 
 certain about this. It may be that you have felt this 
 thirst, hardly knowing what it was. Have you 
 never felt, what almost every body is said to feel, 
 dissatisfied with all that you have; felt that nothing 
 gives you the pleasure that you expected beforehand 
 that it would give you ; and that there is still some- 
 thing to be had, you do not know what, before you 
 will be satisfied and at rest ? You have felt so. All 
 of us have felt so. Now I do not say that this long- 
 ing is the hungering and thirsting after righteous- 
 ness, spoken of in the text, and in other parts of the 
 Bible. But it is the beginning of it. It is the con- 
 fession of the soul that it was made for something 
 higher than the comforts and pleasures of this world. 
 But how did you treat this desire, this longing ? You 
 set your heart upon some new worldly thing, which 
 
126 Christ's invitation in the temple. 
 
 relieved you for the moment and then left you just 
 as you were before; even as a thirsty man sometimes 
 resorts to the wine cup, which appeases his thirst one 
 moment, only to make it more intolerable the next. 
 But perhaps you have had better feelings than these. 
 You have wished, when you have looked upon little 
 children, that you could go back again, and be as 
 innocent as they; or when you have seen a true 
 Christian tossing on the feverish bed and gasping for 
 breath, yet full of peace, and hope and joy, you have 
 longed to change places with him, and would gladly 
 have given up strength and health and all your hopes 
 and prospects in this life, for a good hope of eternal 
 life through Jesus Christ, Or when you have met 
 in the w^alks of life a religious man happy and con- 
 tented and peaceful amid sorrow and privation and 
 strife, you have said to yourself — " Oh, that I vv^ere 
 truly religious; that I could look up to God in love 
 and beheve that he loves me ; that I had a good right 
 to believe that I enjoy the favour of God." My 
 friend and brother, if you feel thus, go to Christ. 
 This is spiritual thirst. As you grow in grace, you 
 will long for spiritual blessings more and more, for 
 their own sake. But this dissatisfaction with earthly 
 things, these longings to be good, are signs of that 
 thirst w^hich Christ is willing — yea, longs to quench. 
 All, then who want to come to Christ are urged to 
 come at once. And if there be any who have no such 
 desire, they must be in an awfully degraded state. 
 Think of it! An immortal soul, a child of God, con- 
 tented to grovel in the dust! To fmd all its happi- 
 ness in toys and baubles, that perish in the using! 
 
Christ's invitation in the temple. 127 
 
 To tiiid all its happiness in eating and drinking, in 
 having houses and lands, in having the love and fa- 
 vour of its fellow worms. Think of it! An im- 
 mortal spirit, willing to have all its happiness in three 
 score years and ten ! My brethren, if I speak to any 
 such wretched persons, let me beg them, if they have 
 to wrino" thoughts and wishes, out of hard cold hearts, 
 to pray; to pray against themselves; to pray that they 
 may value spiritual and eternal things aright, and 
 earnestly long for them. 
 
 "If any man thirst, let him come to Me and drink." 
 What is meant by coming to Christ? Our Lord 
 Himself has explained the expression in the next 
 verse, where he promises rivers of living water, to 
 him that believeth. He that believes in Christ, 
 comes to Christ ; for he that believes in Christ, re- 
 ceives all Christ's sayings as true, and so will do, or 
 try to do, all that Christ has commanded. He will 
 seek of Christ true repentance; he will join himself 
 to Christ's body, which is the Church, in Holy Bap- 
 tism; and will use all those other means of grace 
 which Christ has left in his Church. There is no 
 other way to come to Christ but this. A man may 
 deceive himself with raptures and visions of false 
 hopes: but the Lord has given us a few simple 
 means, by using which in a right spirit, we may ob- 
 tain eternal blessings; remission of sins, the gift of 
 the Spirit, and everlasting life. By using these means 
 in faith, we come to Christ, and shall obtain the great 
 blessing of spiritual communion with Him. Now 
 there are here two classes of persons, who are to be 
 exhorted to come to Christ. One class is composed 
 
128 Christ's invitation in the temple. 
 
 of those who are not members of the Church of 
 Christ. To them I would say " repent and be bap- 
 tised every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ, 
 for the remission of sins, and ye shall receive the gift 
 of the Holy Ghost." What are you waiting for? 
 Why do you not come to Christ in his own chosen 
 ordinance, this very day? Are you waiting for a 
 call? You have had a call to-day in the solemn 
 words of the text; a call, which if slighted, will 
 rise up against you at the dreadful day of judg- 
 ment. And you have a call to come to Christ this 
 moment, in that still, small voice, which whispers 
 to your heart, that it will be madness to put off at- 
 tending to this, the great work of life for another 
 hour. "And now why tarriest thou ? arise and be 
 baptised, and wash away thy sins, calling on the 
 name of the Lord." The other class of persons who 
 must be urged to come to Christ, consist of the un- 
 godly, the carnal, worldly-minded members of the 
 Church. They are in the city of God; they sit by 
 the banks of the river of life; but suffer its pure 
 waters to flow away from them untasted. They are 
 indeed outwardly members of Christ, but have no 
 more part in Him, than the withered branches have 
 in the goodly tree, which they disfigure by their un- 
 sightliness — they have a name to live, and are dead. 
 My brethren, you must come to Christ by deep and 
 long, and painful, and serious repentance for your un- 
 holy lives and conversation. And remember, as the 
 rebellious angels were cast out of heaven itself, so, at 
 last will all the unworthy members of Christ be cast 
 out of the Church of God, which is the gate of Heaven. 
 
Christ's invitation in the temple. 129 
 
 The third thing upon which I asked you to fix 
 your minds was the blessing 'promised to all those that 
 come to Christ. "He that believeth on Me, as the 
 Scripture halh said, out of his^belly shall flow rivers 
 of living water." These words refer to the gift of the 
 Holy Ghost, which is in the soul of the true believer, 
 an unfailing fountain of joy and peace, of love to 
 God and man, and of all graces and virtues. This 
 gift our Lord promises to all who will come and re- 
 ceive it. The language of this text is of course figu- 
 rative, and water is spoken of because it conveys to 
 the mind the strongest ideas of purity and refresh- 
 ment. If any man is tired of the ways of the world, 
 its din, strife, and bustle, its hollow mirth, and its 
 galling cares, he is promised unfailing peace and re- 
 freshment, if he will come to Christ. This* subject 
 of the gift of the Holy Ghost cannot be discussed or 
 explained at the close of a discourse; and I will only 
 call your attention to one or two remarks connected 
 with it. Observe the condescension of Christ in at- 
 tracting you to the performance of a bounden duty 
 by the promise of a rich blessing. It is your duty 
 to do the will of Christ ; yet he promises you peace 
 and- happiness forever if you will only give your- 
 selves up to Him. Then reflect, too, my brethren, 
 that very many good and wise persons have gone to 
 Christen the strength of this promise: yet no one 
 has ever been disappointed. There is no one who 
 will stand up and say, I have earnestly tried to ob- 
 tain the promised blessing, but I have found it all a 
 delusion. Then, surely, as reasonable men, who 
 want to be happy, you will go to Christ, that you, 
 
 17 
 
130 Christ's invitation in the temple. 
 
 too, may be blessed. You feel the thirst. Christ 
 has promised to quench it. At any rate, make the 
 trial. 
 
 My brethren, the invitation which has so often 
 sounded in your ears, is once again addressed to you. 
 Many times you have rejected it, or doubted about 
 it, or put off the time for making a decision. What 
 vv^ill you do to-day ? Will you go away ? Will you 
 shut your ears to that voice ? Well, pass away from 
 the temple. Drink freely of the rivers of earthly 
 pleasure ; and dream that your longings are all satis- 
 fied. But, if there be a shadow of truth in the 
 opinion held alike by the enlightened Christian, and 
 the wise Pagan, that the soul was made for the ser- 
 vice and enjoyment of God, your portion in the 
 world to come will be — in the very nature of things 
 must be — Eternal Thirst. 
 
SERMON X. 
 
 INCONSISTENT CHRISTIANS, ENEMIES OF THE CROSS. 
 
 [For the Twenty-Third Sunday after Trinity.] 
 
 For many walk, of whom I have told you often, and now tell 
 you even weeping, that they are the enemies of the cross of 
 Christ ; whose end is destruction ; whose God is their belly, and 
 whose glory is their shame, who mind earthly things. 
 
 Philippians, iii. 18, 19. 
 » 
 
 These words describe the character of certain 
 who professed the religion of Christ in the days of 
 the apostle St. Paul. And if in the first age of 
 Christianity, when persecution was the earthly por- 
 tion of those who become Christians, and when the 
 w^orld, as such, frowned upon the Church, there were 
 many, sensual and worldly members of Christ, can 
 we wonder that it is so now, when that religion is a 
 passport, as it should be, to honour and respecta- 
 bility? My Christian brethren, it is still so. In 
 every branch of the Church Catholic, in every 
 diocese, in every parish, there are followers of the 
 Lord, who are the enemies of His cross; who by 
 their inconsistent lives are destroying their own 
 souls, and perhaps the souls of those with whom 
 they associate ! And since these things are so, woe 
 to that Pastor of Christ who does not fearlessly re- 
 buke and reprove all such disciples! The manly 
 
132 INCONSISTENT CHRISTIANS, 
 
 Paul had tears for such. Oh, if we felt as we should, 
 if we realized eternal things as we ought, we should 
 have bitter tears, kindly rebukes, and firm, though 
 friendly warnings, for these false Christians. Nor 
 should these be confined to the pulpit alone. As the 
 pastor goes from house to house, he should not be 
 afraid to tell his sheep when they are going astray. 
 He should say to the proud — " My friend, you have 
 forgotten that some with whom you worship and 
 commune are your brethren, who are dear to God and 
 should be very dear to you." He should say to those 
 who appear to love this world ; " It is my duty' to tell 
 you that your dress, your houses and lands, or your 
 business engross too much of your thoughts and 
 affections." He should say to the envious and hate- 
 ful, to the evil speaker, and to the slanderer of his 
 brethren, " My friend, I hear you telling with de- 
 light the failing and sins of those whom you profess 
 to love. I see you passing by your fellow commu- 
 nicants in the daily walks of life, not only without 
 a kind word and look, but even with a glance of dis- 
 like and hatred. Be careful ! I am afraid that you 
 are hating some whom Christ loves. I am afraid 
 that you are abiding in death." But if a pastor 
 should adopt such a course in these days, with 
 what hatred and ridicule would he be loaded ! Yet 
 such is our bounden duty. But men have got to 
 think that a clergyman is merely a preacher; that 
 his duty is merely to conduct the public services 
 of the Church, and to preach an agreeable sermon; 
 and then his conscience is clear. Merciful Lord, 
 put a new and better spirit in all our hearts! Make 
 
ENEMIES OF THE CROSS. 133 
 
 US more afraid of Thee than Thine ! Make us 
 more afraid of destroying a soul which Thou hast 
 redeemed, through our unfaithfulness, than of of- 
 fending our fellow men by too great plainness of 
 speech ! 
 
 In the words of the text, St. Paul has described 
 the character, position and end of the false Christians 
 of his day; but as the same description answers 
 equally well for these times, it w^ill be the subject of 
 some remarks this morning. And my brethren let 
 me beg of you, not as a matter of form, but seriously 
 and earnestly, as we go along, to ask yourselves 
 whether you are true or false Christians. For you 
 well know that we may come regularly to Church 
 and communion, and have hearts very far from God. 
 . There are three things said of these false Chris- 
 tians : namely, that their God is their belly ; that 
 their glory is in their shame; and that they mind 
 earthly things. Upon each of them we may bestow 
 a few words. " Whose God is their belly" — which 
 means that these people yield themselves up to the 
 dominion of sensual appetite. To this charge w^e 
 shall all, of course, plead not guilty at once. " I am 
 no glutton, I am no drunkard, I am not licentious" 
 is heard from every side. Yet this may be entirely 
 true, and still we may have a God of sensual appetite. 
 If you make your own ease and comfort the great 
 object of life, you make a God of sensual appetite. 
 And it is in this way that thousands offend. They 
 never indulge any appetite or desire unlawfully or 
 excessively; yet they will not give up a single com- 
 fort for the will of God. How much more we 
 
134 • INCONSISTENT CHRISTIANS, 
 
 think of food and clothing than of religion ! There 
 are many who would not for the world go to church 
 in a shabby dress, who take no pains to come there 
 with pure hearts and humble minds. There are 
 many Christians who feel very much hurt, if certain 
 people slight and neglect them ; and yet who feel no 
 anxiety about being noticed by God. You think a 
 deal about your property. You try to improve it 
 and to make it as profitable as you can. You have 
 hopes and fears about it, which now elevate, and now 
 depress you. Well; how is it about heaven? Are 
 you so very anxious about obtaining that eternal 
 Kingdom ? Do you watch your right and title to that 
 enduring possession, with one half of the care which 
 you bestow on your estate ? You have health to pre- 
 serve. Something disorders the nicely organized 
 frame. How eagerly you fly to your physician ! 
 How carefully you follow his advice ! But a sadder 
 disease fastens on the soul. You have some sorely 
 besetting sin which threatens to destroy you. But 
 how little and how coldly you pray about it ! How 
 little real anxiety it gives you ! How seldom do you 
 watch with trembling hope, whether it is going away 
 from the soul ! Thus, my brethren, you see, that if 
 we who are professed Christians put our ease and 
 comfort, our bodily wants, our health and property 
 before God in our thoughts and affections, we belong 
 to that degraded class, whose God is sensual appetite. 
 The next thing said of these Christians is, that 
 their glory is their shame; that is, that they are 
 proud of those very things Mdiich ought to over- 
 whelm them with confusion. Perhaps this trait is 
 
ENEMIES OF THE CROSS. * 135 
 
 not now so commonly found in the false Christian; 
 and yet we have all witnessed it either in ourselves 
 or others. There is a young Christian, for instance, 
 — yes, a Christian, for the waters of regeneration 
 have bedewed his brow — who thinks it manly to be 
 profane, and glories in the horrid oaths that pollute 
 his lips. There is a middle aged Christian, who 
 feels a pride in his cunning, and who glories in hav- 
 ing overreached his neighbour, in some matter of 
 traffic. There is another Christian who has received 
 an affront or injury from a fellow member of Christ. 
 A good opportunity for resentment presents itself 
 Cuttin g remarks, or cold neglect, or haughty looks 
 are his instruments of revenge; and he goes home 
 glorying, that he has wounded the feelings of his 
 brother. My brethren, none of us I trust, glory in 
 open vice and profligacy; but if we should go on ex- 
 amining ourselves in little matters, should we not 
 all find that we glory, or have gloried in some things 
 which ought to cover us with confusion? 
 
 The last characteristic given of these Christians 
 is that they mind earthly things. The word here 
 rendered mind, means to set one's affections on any 
 thing. Of course, it is the duty of all of us to mind, 
 in one sense of the word, earthly things ; for we must 
 be fed and clothed, and our business must be looked 
 after. But false and insincere followers of Christ, 
 while they profess to look for an enduring state of 
 things, fix their hopes on one which passeth away. 
 There is no need of any fuller description of this 
 trait : but if any of you wish to find out whether it 
 belongs to your own characters, take this simple test. 
 
136 INCONSISTENT CHRISTIANS, 
 
 See whether you sincerely prefer spiritual to earthly 
 prosperity; and whether you really dread the loss of 
 God's favour more than any other thing in the 
 world. But I pass to the position occupied by false 
 Christians. 
 
 " They are the enemies of the Cross of Christ." 
 The people of whom these words were first spoken 
 were hostile to the blessed doctrine of salvation only 
 through the merits of a crucified Redeemer, and held 
 that circumcision, and other ritual observances of the 
 law of Moses, were necessary to salvation. Now, 
 professed Christians are enemies of the Cross of 
 Christ in these two ways ; or rather, I should say, that 
 there are two classes of enemies of Christ, to be found 
 among His avowed followers. One class denies the 
 necessity of the sacrifice of the Cross, and affirms 
 that mere morality, as it is called, is enough for any 
 man's salvation. The other class is the largest, and 
 opposes the triumphs of the Cross by ungodly life 
 and conversation. It is with the latter class that we 
 have chiefly to do; for, thank God, I believe that all 
 the members of this parish hold the great truth, that 
 " we are accounted righteous before God only for the 
 merits of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, by 
 faith ; and not for our own works or deservings." The 
 persons composing this latter class, are enemies of 
 the Cross of Christ in these ways : by their simpli- 
 city and hardness of heart they keep the influences 
 of the Cross from themselves; and by their bad ex- 
 ample, they keep others from the Cross. I know 
 that men have no business to make the inconsistency 
 of Christians an excuse for not coming to Christ; I 
 
ENEMIES OF THE CROSS. 137 
 
 know that it is an excuse that will be treated with 
 awful contempt at the last day. But men will say — 
 and it is natural that they should so say — when they 
 see the vast diflference between profession and prac- 
 tice in most of us who are called Christians, "His 
 religion cannot be much, cannot be real, it does so 
 little for the hearts and lives of those who profess to 
 enjoy it." My brethren, would to God that the 
 preacher had the faith and feelings of St. Paul, to 
 tell, even weeping, every false Christian here, that he 
 is an enemy of the Cross of Christ ! If there is one 
 before me who feels that his character is described 
 in the words of the text, let me beg of him, wherever 
 he goes to carry this thought along with him, — "I 
 am an enemy of the Cross of Christ." When he 
 kneels down to say his heartless prayers, let him re- 
 member that he is about to pray to one whom he 
 daily opposes. When he comes to Church, when 
 he kneels at the communion, let him remember, "I 
 am the enemy of the Cross of Christ." When he 
 sees the poor profligate rolling in misery and guilt, 
 let him think, perhaps I am keeping that poor wretch 
 from the only thing that can save him. When he 
 reads of his Saviour's living humiliation, and dying 
 agonies, let him reflect, "This is my Saviour; He 
 underwent all these for me; and I am His enemy." 
 Can he bear such a thought ? If he can bear it now, — 
 and the heart may become hard enough to bear even 
 such a thought about with it, without feeling much 
 uneasiness — he will not be able to endure it when he 
 arrives at the false Christian's final end. 
 
 " Whose end is destruction." The false Christian 
 
 18 
 
138 INCONSISTENT CHRISTIANS, 
 
 is like a man doomed to death, who takes passage in a 
 ship with a goodly number, bound to the same haven, 
 for the purpose of pleasure. They rejoice as their 
 vessel bounds over their waves, and as the distant 
 shore spreads beneath their straining gaze. He trem- 
 bles, for the hour of his landing will be the hour of 
 his death. True Christians rejoice as the years hasten 
 on ; for they are coming nearer to their Lord, and they 
 love to look for the appearing of their Saviour. But 
 how would the false Christian tremble, if he could 
 realize the horrors of his situation ! And yet this 
 very day, he has prayed God to hasten the hour of 
 his doom. " Thy kingdom come " is, in the mouth of 
 the true Christian, a fervent prayer for the fulness 
 of that kingdom, at the coming of which he will be 
 delivered from sin and misery. But on the lips of 
 the hypocrite, or the inconsistent disciple, it rises up 
 a solemn petition for the hastening of his ruin. My 
 brethren, your end will be destruction. If these aw- 
 ful words of God make no impression on your souls, 
 no violent and exaggerated language of man will 
 have any effect. Your end will be destruction. May 
 you understand the import of these fearful words ! 
 
 And will any man ask, why so much preaching 
 about inconsistent Christians, when there are so many 
 openly opposed to the Lord ? Simply because in- 
 consistent Christians are the worst enemies of the 
 Cross of Christ. The fire of true religion burns 
 brightest and highest when persecution most rages ; 
 but in the cold atmosphere of insincere, inconsistent 
 Christian profession, it almost goes out forever. There 
 must be a mighty change wrought in the Church 
 
ENEMIES OF THE CROSS. 139 
 
 before the conversion of the world. There must be 
 warmer hearts and truer hands about the Cross, be- 
 fore it is borne aloft in triumph, above a redeemed 
 earth. Yes, and to come down to particulars, if we 
 as Christians wish to do more good in our own town 
 and parish, we must become much more what Chris- 
 tians profess to be, and ought to be. 
 
 My brethren, as you return to your homes, anx- 
 iously ask yourselves whether you are true Chris- 
 tians? Be contented with any thing, rather than a 
 cold, heartless, formal religion : for if there be a 
 blessed man in this world, the religious man must be 
 blessed; and if there be a truly wretched man below, 
 it must be the man who, with unsubdued appetites 
 and unrenounced sin, is trying to gain some worldly 
 end, or to attempt to lull an unquiet conscience to 
 rest, by an insincere and hypocritical profession of 
 the Gospel. For whatever be his rank, station and 
 estate, howsoever fair his prospects for time, he is 
 the enemy of the Cross of Christ. 
 
SERMON XL 
 
 THE MAN CHRIST JESUS A HIDING PLACE. 
 
 [ For the fourth Sunday in Advent.] 
 
 And a man shall be as an hiding place from the wind, and a covert 
 from the tempest ; as rivers of water in a dry place, as the 
 shadow of a great rock in a weary land. 
 
 Isaiah, xxxii. 2. 
 
 These beautiful words may perhaps primarily 
 apply to King Hezekiah ; but in the fulness of their 
 meaning they belong to the God-man, our blessed 
 Saviour Jesus Christ. They describe Him in figura- 
 tive language, as doing various acts of love and 
 kindness for our race. Once more, on the eve of 
 celebrating the festival of His nativity, it will 
 heighten and purify our joy, to reconsider some of 
 the offices of love which He has performed towards 
 helpless and exposed man. For if we know clearly 
 from what we have been delivered, and what we have 
 gained by Christ, holier and heartier will be the 
 hymns of joy with which we shall usher in His natal 
 morn. 
 
 '' A man shall be as an hiding place from the wind, 
 and a covert fjom the tempest." If we are right in 
 the application of these words to our Saviour, the 
 word man is well worthy of attentive consideration. 
 
THE MAN CHRIST JESUS A HIDING PLACE. 141 
 
 It is highly important that you should constantly 
 bear in mind that Christ Jesus, though very God 
 is also very man. "The Word was God," says St. 
 John, "and became flesh." And Christ wa.s "in 
 the form of God," says St. Paul, and was "made in 
 the likeness of man." He was as much and indeed 
 man as any of us. As man, he increased in wis- 
 dom and stature, hungered, thirsted, wept, felt the 
 emotions of grief, pity and fear, suffered pains of 
 soul and body, writhed under physical anguish, and 
 was disquieted with spiritual distress, bowed His 
 head and died. It is important, we repeat, to bear 
 the fact in our minds, that Jesus Christ was very 
 man, as well as very God. And we think, as we ad- 
 vance in the examination of the text, that you will 
 see the reasons for this. A man is our covert. Now 
 we will not undertake to say that God could not have 
 saved our race in some other way, than by becoming 
 man; for we cannot speak, since we know not of, 
 impossibilities with God : but we do say that a mode 
 more beautiful and touching, more interesting and 
 winning, than the one by which we have been re- 
 deemed, the incarnation of the eternal Son, the heart 
 of man cannot conceive. Now imagine for a moment, 
 instead of coming in the form of man to save us, 
 Christ had appeared in the full array of His glorious 
 majesty, encircled with His angelic hosts, receiving 
 the homage of the mighty universe, created by Him 
 and for Him. While the glorious vision rested 
 upon the earth, terror would have drawn all tribes 
 and nations to the footstool of their King ; but when 
 that King had returned to His throne on high, is it 
 
142 THE MAN CHRIST JESUS A HIDING PLACE. 
 
 too much to say, looking at men as they are, that 
 they would have rushed back in crowds to the dark 
 service of the fallen Prince of this world ? If any 
 of you deny or doubt the truth of this assertion, we 
 would remind you of the conduct of the children of 
 Israel, in the face of the most sublime and terrible 
 display of the glory and power of God. They wit- 
 nessed the wonders that He wrought in Egypt ; heard 
 the dreadful cry that rang throughout the land, in 
 that night when every house had its death-couch 
 spread for the cherished first born; saw the waves, 
 that had rolled on for centuries, pause in their old 
 course, leap up and open a way before them ; gazed 
 with awful reverence at the pillar of fire and cloud, 
 which now revealed and now covered the presence of 
 Jehovah; and trembled beneath the thunders that 
 shook Sinai to its base : and yet all the while con- 
 ducted in the most perverse and rebellious manner. 
 Now, from this fact, we argue, that a visible dis- 
 play of glory at the first coming of the Son of God 
 would have had the same effect, or rather w^ould 
 have had, as little effect. Indeed, we know that the 
 assertion is true, from the fact that the terrible dis- 
 play of divine power on the day of our Saviour's 
 crucifixion made so little impression upon the mass 
 of the Jewish people. The truth is, that these dis- 
 plays of power and glory overcome men while they 
 continue visible ; but, when withdrawn, pass away 
 from the mind altogether, or are but dimly remem- 
 bered. They do not — we speak it with reverence — 
 reach the heart : they appeal to the fears of men ; but 
 do not take hold of their affections. But Christ Jesus 
 
THE MAN CHRIST JESUS A HIDING PLACE. 143 
 
 came not with visible glory, but in great humility. 
 A man is our hiding place and our covert. Let us 
 now examine the effect which this truth, namely, 
 that the God-man is our Saviour, is calculated to pro- 
 duce on the soul. 
 
 It is calculated to arrest our attention. We have 
 briefly shown what little abiding effect visible dis- 
 plays of God's presence have produced in the hearts 
 of men. We need not say that to tell the most of 
 men, that a mere man is their Saviour, would sink 
 them deeper in despair than ever : for who in the 
 hour of death would trust to any work wrought by 
 a being capable of being so wayward and false and 
 fickle as fallen man ? But tell me, that as I needed 
 a Saviour, so God became man to be my Saviour ; 
 and my attention is in a moment fixed upon so as- 
 tounding a fact. I stop, think about it, ask about it; 
 and, if I believe it, must at any rate make up my 
 mind that it was a fearful necessity which made 
 such a humiliation of God necessary. Thus my at- 
 tention is arrested, and having my mind drawn to 
 contemplate slich a Saviour, I am at any rate in the 
 Avay of being saved. 
 
 Then again the truth, that our Saviour is God, has 
 a tendency to drive away those fears and anxieties 
 which creatures of a day must have, when they ap- 
 proach the Eternal, all powerful Creator. We know 
 that by nature man is proud and vain, and puffed up 
 with notions of his own importance : and, yet, when 
 thoughtful men contrast themselves with God, they 
 not only feel their own littleness, but begin to fear 
 that so great a God, cannot condescend to notice 
 
144 THE MAN CHRIST JESUS A HIDING PLACE. 
 
 their wants, pity their sorrows, and support them 
 under trials and afflictions. But go to a man, con- 
 victed of sin, and almost in despair, seeking for a way 
 of pardon and peace : and tell him that there is One 
 who has suffered in his stead the punishment due to 
 his sins; that if he will seek out and follow that One, 
 he will be saved; and that that One is God, and so 
 all powerful, and able to do every thing which He 
 may promise to do ; and also knows, and so is able to 
 feel for man, as He has felt with man, all the infirmi- 
 ties and distresses, doubts and fears, wants and pains 
 which fall to the lot of man, and his fears and anxie- 
 ties will be done away at once. If Jesus Christ be 
 God and man, he will reason, as God, he can save 
 me to the uttermost, protect me against all foes, and 
 overcome in me and without me, all opposition to His 
 holy will ; and as man. He will feel for me, feel with 
 me, be touched with the feeling of my infirmities, 
 understand and enter into all my doubts and fears, 
 and wishes. He was tempted once, just as I am. 
 Oh, then, he will feel for me when I am tempted, 
 and will fly to my succour ! He has sorrowed, just 
 as I sorrow. Oh, then. He knows how bitter it is, 
 and He knows too how to give comfort and consola- 
 tion! He was despised, and rejected, and forsaken, 
 in the hour of need by His chosen friends. Oh, 
 then. He will support me under shame and derision. 
 He will be my friend, when even " my father and 
 my mother forsake me." He knows what death is; 
 he has struggled in its agonies and bowed beneath 
 its power. Oh, then, if I put myself in His hands 
 He will be by me when my eye grows dim and my 
 
THE MAN CHRIST JESUS, A HIDING PLACE. 145 
 
 heart fails for fear. He will go at my side through 
 that cold, dark valley, where, as He well knows, man 
 dreads to go alone. Surely, a man who reasons thus, 
 will commit his all to Jesus Christ for time and eter- 
 nity, and give himself up to Him in an everlasting 
 covenant. My brethren, if God had descended in 
 the pomp of His full glory, to be our Redeemer, we 
 should have fled away in terror. Ah, why are we 
 not drawn to God in the man Christ Jesus? Is there 
 any thing terrible in Him? Men and brethren, do 
 you want a Saviour mighty to save ? The only son 
 of God the Father is your Saviour and Intercessor ! 
 Who can doubt for a moment that He will be heard 
 pleading for you? Do you want a Saviour who can 
 feel with you and feel for you? The Man Christ 
 Jesus is your Saviour, your elder Brother, your 
 sympathising Friend. " A man shall be as an hiding- 
 place from the wind, and a covert from the tempest." 
 The first words of the text have led us to look 
 down into an inexhaustible subject, which must now 
 be passed over with the hasty glance which we have 
 given it. The prophet, after announcing the Saviour 
 as man, goes on to tell us what He shall be to His 
 believing people. ''And a man shall be as an hiding 
 place from the wind, and a covert from the tempest; 
 as rivers of water in a dry place; as the shadow of a 
 great rock in a weary land." What a Saviour the 
 pious Jew must have looked for, from these words! 
 For, in the climes with which he was familiar, terri- 
 ble tempests raged, and blasts laden with death swept 
 away the travellers in the deserts; broad wastes were 
 spread before him, where one might journey many a 
 
 19 
 
146 THE MAN CHRIST JESUS, A HIDING PLACE. 
 
 weary mile, and find no gurgling spring at which to 
 quench his thirst; and a burning sun beat down, 
 upon dry sands, where the shadow of a great rock 
 afforded refreshment and comfort of which we can 
 hardly conceive. Now, in this figurative language, 
 our Lord is described as one who is to be a Saviour 
 and Helper to His people, in their times of greatest 
 want and distress. Christ is the believer's shelter 
 from the just indignation of an offended Maker. 
 Laying aside his glory, and becoming man, He stood 
 between us, and the tempest of wrath poured out 
 upon our fallen race. That tempest spent its fury 
 upon His meek form, and bowed it to the grave. 
 And although it will again burst, in ten-fold fury 
 and force, upon the tottering and aged earth ; yet it 
 will not reach those, who, seeing its approach, have 
 fled to Christ, as their covert from the wind, and their 
 hiding-place from the tempest. My hearers, if you 
 know any thing of the torment of an accusing con- 
 science, and that "fearful looking for of judgment 
 and fiery indignation," which must at times haunt 
 and distress the soul of that man who believes the 
 Bible, and at the same time disregards its invitations 
 and warnings; and if you have, thus convicted and 
 distressed, received Jesus Christ as your Saviour in 
 His own chosen way, you will understand the beauty 
 and feel the truth of the description given of Christ 
 in the text. Oh, what an unspeakable comfort it is 
 to a sinful soul, to a man who hates sin and longs to 
 escape from it, to see and receive spiritually that 
 simple and beautiful truth — "The blood of Jesus 
 Christ cleanseth from all sin." Oh, if we could only 
 
THE MAN CHRIST JESUS, A HIDING PLACE. 147 
 
 bring the multitude of the careless and unconverted, 
 to see these two things, that they are sinners, and that 
 God will execute a righteous judgment against them, 
 unless they repent; Christ might be preached to 
 them with power and effect. But they know not 
 their guiltiness ; they see not that tempest of wrath, 
 which is coming down upon them, like the red Si- 
 moom on the desert: and when it reaches them, it 
 may be, that they will be far from the only covert and 
 the only hiding place, and then they must be miser- 
 ably destroyed. 
 
 Our Saviour is as rivers of w^ater in a dry place — 
 that is, He is an unfailing source of joy, peace and 
 comfort to the believing soul. We believe that most 
 unsanctified men will admit, that life, to them, not- 
 withstanding all the mad pleasures by which they 
 strive to kill time, is a weary and unsatisfactory 
 thing. We believe, that every irreligious person here 
 will tell us, that he is not satisfied ; that he is not 
 truly happy. And how can it be otherwise ? Can 
 it be that a being like man, capable of enjoying such 
 a being as God, can be satisfied, with sensual plea- 
 sures ; can be happy in the dull, tiresome routine, of 
 mere worldly life ? But let a person receive Christ, and 
 devote himself to that for which he was made, the 
 service of his Maker; and that sweet peace that will 
 attend him in all his duties and pursuits, that peace 
 arising from a consciousness that he is at peace with 
 God, and is striving to do His will, will be to his 
 longing heart like rivers of water in a dry place. My 
 hearers, is life a dry and w^eary and uninteresting 
 thing to you ? Then you may be sure of one thing, 
 
148 THE MAN CHRISt JESUS, A HIDING PLACE. 
 
 namely, that whatever you say of yourselves, you 
 are not at peace with God, through Jesus Christ. 
 You are not converted, you have not given God your 
 heart and affections. If you w^ant to be happy, we 
 beg you to yield yourselves to Christ. What a strange 
 thing it is, that when a fountain of living w^aters is 
 open before us, such multitudes should weary them- 
 selves in hewing out cisterns that can hold no water! 
 Go, and perish with hunger, if you will, at the rich 
 banquet ; go and lie down by the fresh spring, and 
 die of thirst : but do not pine, and sicken, and die of 
 weariness and disgust, with such a provision of peace 
 and joy as God has made for all men in the blessed 
 Gospel of Jesus Christ. 
 
 " A man shall be as a shadow of a great rock, in a 
 weary land." These words, as we understand them, 
 set forth our Saviour as the comforter and supporter 
 of His people under trial and affliction. He has not 
 taken affliction aw^ay from believers ; for, being Him- 
 self made perfect through suffering, He perfects 
 His disciples in the same way. But, when affliction 
 and trial, like burning sunbeams, beat down upon our 
 heads, He is near us, like the shadow of a great rock, 
 to temper their fierceness, so that we perish not. 
 This comparison is exceedingly beautiful : for the 
 rocks in Eastern countries are not only grateful to 
 travellers from the shade which they afford; but on 
 account of the luxurious coolness which they impart 
 around them. We take it for granted that you all 
 expect trials and aflfiictions in the course of your 
 lives — that you expect that health will sometimes 
 fail; that plans of business will disappoint your 
 
THE MAN CHRIST JESUS, A HIDING PLACE. 149 
 
 hopes ; that friends will grow cold and distant ; that 
 the grave will open to receive your heart's choicest 
 treasures. Perhaps some, or all of these things, have 
 already happened to you. You know at any rate, 
 that you are in a weary land. Will you not then rest 
 under the Shadow of the great Rock? If God had 
 left ns in this world of trouble without a comforter, 
 what murmurings and complaints there would have 
 been ! And now, although the Son has become 
 Man, not only that He might die for our sins, but 
 that He might be our compassionate and sympathiz- 
 inof Hiffh Priest, our Brother and Friend ; thousands 
 of the sons and daughters of affliction go unconsoled 
 to their cheerless sepulchres. There is the pale in- 
 valid tossing to and fro, on his couch, through the 
 weary night watches. Jesus Christ is by him, ready 
 to speak peace; and the sick man turns from Him, to 
 the newspaper or the novel, or the trivial talk of hol- 
 low-hearted friends. There is a man, who has lost 
 his estate. The Saviour whispers to him, be of good 
 cheer, I have riches for thee that cannot fail ; and still 
 he frets himself into his grave.'- There is a mourner 
 returning from the church-yard, where he has left 
 the pride and joy of his heart. The Lord Jesus 
 meets him with the triumphant strain " I am the re- 
 surrection and the life;" yet he hurries onward, sul- 
 lenly and sadly, to his lonely dwelling. My friends, 
 you know of yourselves, that " in the world ye shall 
 have tribulation," and ye know from your Bibles and 
 from the testimony of a multitude of God's people, 
 that there is not a pang which man can feel, which 
 Jesus Christ cannot soothe and take away. Why 
 
150 THE MAN CHRIST JESUS, A HIDING PLACE. 
 
 then will so many of you wander on through a weary 
 land, and seek not the Shadow of the great Rock? 
 "Why will so many of you refuse to be comforted here, 
 and hasten on to an eternal abode where comfort will 
 never be offered? 
 
 The text, upon which w^e have thus commented, 
 presents to you the Saviour of mankind in the most 
 attractive and winning light. If a man will not be 
 Christ's, let him never complain of the tempest and 
 the wind, which will howl about him, and of the dry 
 places and the hot w^ary land through which he 
 must pass. But sure are we, that every true Chris- 
 tian will testify to the truth and fidelity of the pro- 
 phet's description of his Lord; sure are we that all 
 who have become His sincere disciples, will, as again 
 they are called upon to joy at the Birth of Him who 
 was as at this time cradled for us, a helpless Babe in 
 the stable at Bethlehem, send up from their hearts, 
 with the glad Christmas hymns and anthems, Paul's 
 fervent expression of his gratitude for the blessings 
 of the Gospel, " Thanks be unto God for His un- 
 speakable gift!" 
 
SERMON XII. 
 
 THE GLAD TIDINGS OF SALVATION. 
 
 [For Christmas Day.] 
 
 Behold I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all 
 
 people ; for unto you is born this day, in the city of David, a 
 
 Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. 
 
 St. Luke, ii. 10, 11. 
 
 What a night that was for the world, in the which 
 these words were first uttered! Yet, all things 
 seemed to be going on in their common course. Men 
 were buried in slumber, or busy with life's cares, or 
 rioting in unholy pleasures. Millions bowed down 
 to the works of their own hands; worshipping as 
 gods, some of the meanest things in the universe. 
 Sin sat, the enthroned king of the earth ; for fearfully 
 small was the number of those who on that night 
 laid their heads upon their pillows, calling on the 
 name of the true God. Men were weeping and 
 laughing, dying and coming into being, marrying 
 and giving in marriage, buying and selling, hoping 
 and joying and fearing, and noting down that night 
 for events that have been forgotten for aores. The 
 Roman Emperor sate in his proud palace, and deem- 
 ed himself the mightiest Potentate on the earth ; lit- 
 tle thinking meanwhile that a stable, in the City of 
 
152 THE GLAD TIDINGS OF SALVATION. 
 
 Bethlehem, contained the King of Kings and Lord of 
 Lords. Sinful men trembled that night, as the 
 thought flashed across their minds, that there might 
 be a God who judged the earth ; unknowing that the 
 great Victim was at hand who was to stand between 
 them and His wrath. The pale sufferer shook with 
 fear that night, as the death agonies rocked his 
 frame, and the sepulciire yawned at his feet ; ignorant 
 that the earth had just received One who was to 
 claim for Himself the proud titles of the Resurrection 
 and the Life. There v^as not a man upon tlie face of 
 the wide earth who knew that that hour was the 
 most important which had ever been numbered with 
 the days of the children of men. In a remote corner 
 of the world, some shepherds were abiding in the 
 fields, keeping watch over their flocks; to them 
 angels were winging their way, charged with the 
 most joyous and most wonderful message that ever 
 came from the throne of God. That night com- 
 pleted that " fulness of time," of which the long 
 line of prophets spake, and which the old saints 
 longed to see. A star then rose upon the earth which 
 shall brighten through all time and in all space, un- 
 til it become the everlasting lio^ht of the universe. A 
 song broke the stillness of that night, which shall 
 echo forever in the courts of the eternal temple. The 
 words with which we introduced this discourse, 
 and which were heard that night by the shepherds 
 of Judea, are the gladdest and sweetest that ever fell 
 upon the ear of man. 
 
 That hour has obtained an everlasting name. And 
 ever, as it comes round in the circle of the seasons, 
 
THE GLAD TIDINGS OF SALVATION. 153 
 
 holy hymns shall hail it; crowds shall gather to the 
 sanctuary ; beautified with the fir tree, the pine tree 
 and the box together ; praises and anthems shall go 
 up from thousands who have found the Babe of 
 Bethlehem an almighty Saviour; and the men of 
 God shall stand up every where, and proclaim 
 anew the good tidings of great joy, which, as at this 
 time, amazed and gladdened the hearts of those 
 lowly men, keeping watch beneath the wintry 
 heaven. My brethren, we have met together on the 
 most joyous morning of the year. " Behold I bring 
 you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all 
 people. For unto you is born this day in the city of 
 David, a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord." 
 
 We celebrate to day the birth of our Saviour. The 
 message of the angel will lead us to consider in what 
 respects He is our Saviour, and also to reflect upon 
 the news of His birth, as glad tidings for all people. 
 
 Christ is our Saviour, in that He has saved us 
 from eternal death, ransomed us from the captivity 
 of the grave, and delivered us from the power of 
 sin. A sentence of eternal condemnation had o-one 
 forth against every being who should rebel against 
 the law of God. From this condemnation Christ 
 Jesus has delivered us. But this clear statement 
 of God's word is met at once by the doubts and mur- 
 murings of man. Some doubt whether it is possi- 
 ble that the God of mercy can visit such a sentence 
 upon the creature of His hands. Others murmur 
 against it as a stern and harsh decree. But all 
 men will admit one thing, that it is right that sin 
 should be punished. Well then, if it is right to 
 
 20 
 
154 THE GLAD TIDINGS OF SALVATION. 
 
 punish it at all, why should it not be punished for- 
 ever. Here you are, the creatures of God, belonging 
 wholly and entirely to Him ; and so of course he has 
 a right to require any thing at your hands that He 
 may choose, or that you can do. He has given you 
 countless mercies and blessings, and so has a claim 
 upon your gratitude and love. Well, now, if in the 
 face of these tv/o facts, you choose to sin, tell me 
 what you can do, to make it right for God ever to 
 forgive that sin? Can you ever make Him forget it? 
 Can you do any thing to take that sin back ? Once 
 you have stood up against your Maker and Benefac- 
 tor, and have said, " God, though Thou art my 
 Maker, and hast a perfect claim upon all my powers, 
 I will not obey Thee ; though Thou hast covered me 
 with mercies, I will repay thy love with defiance and 
 rebellion." Is it not so, my brethren, that every 
 wilful sinner speaks in his heart against God ? Can 
 you blot out that act of rebellion from the remem- 
 brance of Jehovah? But you will say, God is merciful. 
 And so He is. But He is holy, and abhors sin. You 
 say, I will repent, and do good works, and He will 
 forgive? But can your change of mind, change His 
 righteous law^s? And if you do good works, still your 
 sin is present in the mind of God along with them : 
 and the good works you are bound at any rate to do ; 
 and the sin you were bound to keep from. We 
 think that this mode of reasoning will convince any 
 thinking man that the sentence of eternal condem- 
 nation against sinners is right and just. At any rate, 
 your Bibles tell you that there is such a sentence 
 against us; and that it will be rigidly executed. 
 
THE GLAD TIDINGS OF SALVATION. 155 
 
 And what a punishment it will be ! So horrible, that 
 it is called eternal death ; meaning thereby a per- 
 petual state of horror, darkness, loathsomeness and 
 decay: To this state we are all doomed, for 7ve have 
 all sinned. And is it not good tidings of great joy, 
 that a Saviour has been born unto us, in the city of 
 David, who has bought us off from such a curse ? Oh, 
 the multitude of the heavenly host thought so — and 
 they know the blessedness of heaven, and perhaps 
 have kept guard around the prison house of the lost, 
 and have heard the ceaseless howls and lamentations 
 with which it resounds, and may know something of 
 the horrors of that place — and when their ears drank 
 in the fflad message of their favoured fellow to the 
 shepherds, they caught up their golden harps, and 
 hurried from their shining thrones, and suddenly 
 were with the angel, praising God and saying, 
 " Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, 
 good will towards men." 
 
 The Saviour as at this time born unto us has ran- 
 somed us from the grave. Is this a part of the mes- 
 sage of joy? How is this? The sad funeral train still 
 winds its way to the Church yard, and mourners 
 have gathered even to this Christmas feast. It is 
 still a horrible thing to die; to have the soul torn 
 from its old companion and sent forth on a lonely 
 journey to unknown worlds ; and to have these bodies 
 dragged down to the dust, to be the food of grave 
 worms, and the sport of corruption. But the Saviour 
 whom to day we hail, calls Himself the Resurrection 
 and the life. Even as in Adam all die, so in Him 
 all are to be made alive. He took our nature upon 
 
156 THE GLAD TIDINGS OF SALVATION. 
 
 Him. He died in our nature. He rose in our na- 
 ture; and in Him all of our nature rose; and from 
 Him a new principle of life went forth, which reached 
 and endowed with new powers of life all men who 
 had ever lived, and all who ever are to live. He 
 stood by the grave, and told us, what philosophers 
 never thought of, and nature never whispered, and 
 reason never proved, that the dust is to be gathered 
 up again into the hand of God, and moulded into 
 bodies which will clothe the soul forever. And if 
 He stands at the mouth of the tomb, and says to the 
 disciple as he draws near its silent gates "Fear not, 
 I will be with thee;" and if He has so undone the 
 immense work of death, that death has to give back 
 every one of the millions which he has seized for his 
 prey ; has He not ransomed us from the captivity of 
 the grave? Has he not fulfilled His magnificent 
 threatenings against the conqueror death. "O 
 death I will be thy plague ! O grave ! I will be thy 
 destruction !" And is it not good tidings of great joy, 
 to men, who are dying down by thousands every 
 hour, that a Saviour has been born to them, who has 
 destroyed this death ! The eternal wrath of God is 
 terrible ; the death of the body is terrible ; but there 
 is something, which as it draws both of these things 
 upon us, so it is more terrible than either. I mean 
 sin. And from sin our Saviour has delivered, and 
 will deliver, all who believe in Him. He became the 
 Son of man, that man might become the son of God; 
 for to as many as receive Him, to them gives He 
 power to become the sons of God, even to them that 
 believe on His name. If you would realise the great 
 
THE GLAD TIDINGS OF SALVATION. 157 
 
 blessing of deliverance from sin, you must consider 
 its effects upon the happiness of man. Sin, you 
 know, is the transgression of the law; not only by 
 outward acts, but in inward feelings and principles. 
 Now, this opposition to the Law of God, destroys 
 the happiness of every soul in which it dwells, 
 withers its powers, dries up its affections, and sends 
 it abroad a selfish and hateful thing, at war with its 
 Maker, with all good spirits, with its own wicked 
 fellows, and with itself A sinner is the only wretched 
 being in God's universe. The causes of this wretch- 
 edness are readily discovered. A sinner wants to 
 have his own will done in all things : but the Lord 
 reigneth: and he is baffled and checked and put 
 down from time to time, and so is mad with vexation 
 and rage. A sinner is constantly beset by appetites 
 and passions that give him no rest. He gratifies 
 them to day, and to-morrow they ask again. Each 
 day they ask more loudly and angrily than the day 
 before ; and each day are less and less appeased by 
 gratification. The sinner, you all will readily see, 
 alas, we all feel, is in a state of corruption and bond- 
 age. It was to deliver us out of this state, that the 
 Son of God was at this time born of a pure virgin, 
 and cradled in a manger at Bethlehem. He meets 
 the sinner, and begs him to leave off his evil ways. 
 The sinner, weary of his ways — for the way of trans- 
 gressors is hard — answers Him, " Lord, it is impos- 
 sible, I cannot wipe away that black account of sins 
 which is written in God's book of remembrance; and 
 my lusts and passions have bound me down forever." 
 Fellow sinner, this Jesus, whose birth we celebrate, 
 
158 THE GLAD TIDIiXGS OF SALVATION. 
 
 is of God made unto you " wisdom and righteousness 
 and sanctili cation and redemption." In Him you 
 have forgiveness of sins. His grace is sufficient for 
 you. His strength is made perfect in weakness. 
 The angels who sang in the wintry heavens, knew 
 that wretched man v/as dead in sin, and could not 
 quicken himself; and because a Saviour was born, 
 who could deliver him from the body of this death, 
 and raise him up to sit as their fellow, in heavenly 
 places, therefore it was that they broke forth with 
 that sweetest of hymns — "Glory to God in the 
 highest; and on earth peace, good will towards 
 men." Ye who have overcome the world through 
 His grace; ye who in His strength, have trampled 
 lusts and passions under your feet ; ye who were 
 drunken, and unclean, envious and hateful, and are 
 now sober and pure, compassionate and merciful; 
 tell us whether gladder news ever reached your 
 ears, than the tidings of the birth of Jesus Christ? 
 
 Thus, my brethren, Christ the Lord, who was as 
 at this time born to us in the City of David, is our 
 Saviour, in that He has saved us from eternal death, 
 ransomed us from the captivity of the grave, and 
 delivered us from the power of sin. We have just 
 as it Avere but mentioned old and familiar truths. 
 We have not said these things because you know 
 them not, but because ye know them. But on this 
 holy day, w^hen we are rejoicing at our Saviour's 
 birth, it is needful that we all should be reminded for 
 what that Saviour was born. 
 
 The tidings which the Angel brought, are glad 
 tidings of great joy to all people. Alas ! this fact, 
 
THE GLAD TIDINGS OF SALVATION. 159 
 
 joyous as it may seem, awakens sad recollections and 
 sadder thoughts in the mind of the Christian. While 
 the sounds of joy are every where about us, we can- 
 not forget that there are multitudes to whom this 
 Festival brings no cause of gladness. Well may we 
 feel sad, as we shout hosannas to our Lord, to think 
 that there are nations who have never heard His 
 name. Well may it shed a gloom over the altars, 
 dressed in living verdure, to know that on this very 
 day, there will be countless knees bent at the shrines 
 of false gods. Well may it almost hush the voice of 
 gladness by the full board to think of the vice, the 
 squalidness and the misery of the degraded men and 
 neglected children who crowd the dwellings of pagan 
 lands. More than eighteen hundred years have 
 passed since it was first announced that the glad 
 tidings of this day were to all people ; and as yet not 
 one-third part of the inhabitants of the earth are even 
 Christians by name. And alas, there are causes for 
 sadness nearer home, even at our own doors! Are 
 there not those present, who are utterly indifferent to 
 the great salvation which we preach? Are there 
 not those here, who have, time and again, rejected 
 Christ their Lord ? When the hymns of praise and 
 the solemn thanksgivings went up to God, were 
 there no voices which refused to lend their aid ? 
 Were there not hearts which laffored behind, and 
 clung to the miserable and perishing things of earth, 
 and would not rejoice in God their Saviour ? Are 
 there not men and women, old and young, in this 
 church, who feel no joy whatever at the news of the 
 birth of Him who came to be their Saviour, and 
 
IGO THE GLAD TIDINGS OF SALVATION. 
 
 whom they will not have for their Saviour ? And 
 why are these things so ? We are all sinners ; and 
 is not sin a burden ? We are all dying men ; and is 
 not death terrible ? We are all condemned to end- 
 less sorrow, without Christ ; and is not that a doom 
 fearful enough to bring you to Bethlehem, to see this 
 thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath 
 made known to us? 
 
 Christians, the gospel which we preach, is good 
 tidings of great joy to all people. If then these hymns, 
 and prayers and praises, mean anything ; if these 
 green laurels, fitting emblems of joy, mean anything ; 
 if the service of this day be not mere lip service and 
 eye service ; if ye have brought your hearts along 
 with you to the Lord, strain every nerve, pour out 
 unceasing strains of heartfelt prayer, be lavish with 
 your silver and your gold, until the tidings, which 
 have made you glad, have echoed on every mountain 
 and every plain, by the oceans and the rivers, over 
 the islands of the sea, in the frozen north, and in 
 the vallies of the sunny south ; until the morning of 
 Christmas day, shall find, as it breaks brightly on our 
 earth, righteousnes, and holiness, and peace, and joy 
 and gladness in every homestead and habitation of 
 man ! If you are not striving, longing and praying that 
 such blessed times may be hastened, your present 
 service is a mockery of the Lord whom you profess 
 to honour ; and this solemn feast-day is an abomina- 
 tion to Him whose birth it commemorates. 
 
 And ye, who are not Christ's, who have come up 
 with us to our sanctuary on the day which the Lord 
 hath made, will you not ponder well the angel's 
 
THE GLAD TIDINGS OF SALVATION. 161 
 
 words — "behold I bring you good tidings of great 
 joy which shall be to all people." This message is 
 to you, and you have a part in the great salvation 
 which has been raised up in the house of David. 
 For you the angels rejoiced ; for you they sang their 
 sweet and solemn hymns; for you this Saviour is 
 born. Will you not make this, beloved friends, a 
 day of days to you? Oh, you awoke this morning 
 and had not a word of thankfulness for the gift of the 
 Son of God. Will you not, before you lay your 
 heads on your pillows this night, put up at least a 
 short prayer, that the great blessings of this day may 
 not be poured in vain on you? An inheritance is 
 this day offered you, so glorious that words cannot 
 describe it? Will you not accept it? Christ gave 
 himself for you. Will you not give yourselves to 
 Him ? He left thrones and dominions for you ! Will 
 you not give up a few paltry unsatisfying pleasures 
 for Him ? Bow down your hearts, we pray you, be- 
 fore the Babe of Bethlehem ; and again, as centuries 
 ago, a multitude of the heavenly host shall be glad ; 
 they shall rejoice that for another, and another ran- 
 somed soul, their visit to earth was not in vain. And 
 as they think again upon the unsearchable greatness 
 of God's love to man, they shall bow down before 
 the throne, praising Him and saying, *' Glory to God 
 in the highest; and on earth, peace; good will to- 
 wards men." 
 
 21 
 
SERMON XIII. 
 
 KEEPING THE BODY UNDER. 
 
 [ For Septuagesima Sunday.] 
 
 But I keep under my body, and bring it into subjection ; lest that by 
 
 any means, when I have preached to others, I myself should be 
 
 a cast away. 
 
 1st Corinthians, ix, 27. 
 
 The city of Corinth was celebrated for its periodi- 
 cal games, to the celebration of which persons came 
 from all parts of Greece. To these games the 
 apostle alludes in the verses preceding the text : and 
 intimates that Christians should take as much pains 
 in being temperate in all things, and in preparing 
 themselves for their spiritual race and warfare, as 
 were the wrestlers, boxers and racers at the games, 
 in fitting themselves for their trials of strength and 
 skill. He then goes on to give us a piece of his pri- 
 vate religious history, and informs us of the manner 
 in which he found it necessary to discipline himself, 
 that he might successfully press forward in the 
 heavenward race, and gain the mastery in his despe- 
 rate struggle with fleshly lusts and the powers of 
 darkness. ''I keep under my body and bring it 
 into subjection ;" which words mean, that by sternly 
 denying to the cravings of appetite and passion 
 even things which might carefully be allowed them, 
 
KEEPING TitE BODY UNDER. 163 
 
 he made his body, his slave and servant, obedient to 
 the dictates of his immortal soul. We shall treat of 
 the means that St. Paul probably took to keep under 
 his body and bring it into subjection, and the mode 
 in which that means when rightly used, conduces 
 not only to sanctification and growth in grace, but 
 also to strengthen resistance to sin. 
 
 The way which St. Paul took to keep under his 
 body, and to bring it into subjection was of course 
 something which commenced or was connected with 
 his body: and so we cannot suppose that it was 
 prayer by itself, or any other exercise merely spi- 
 ritual. What it was we must gather from other 
 places in his writings. In giving an account of the 
 manner in which he approved himself as a minister 
 of God, he mentions, among other things, watchings 
 and fastings ; and in relating all that he did and suf- 
 fered in the cause of Christ, he tells us that he was 
 in watchings often, and in fastings often. These two 
 places throw much light upon the text, and from 
 them we learn that by robbing himself of sleep for 
 the purpose of watching unto prayer, and by abstain- 
 ing from food for certain periods, he sought to sub- 
 due the flesh to the spirit, and to mortify his mem- 
 bers upon the earth. Fasting or abstinence, as it is 
 indifferently called, is the subject more particularly 
 to be brought under your notice to day. And we beg 
 you to give us your particular attention : because it 
 is to be feared that this duty is too much neglected 
 by Christians, and because we are soon to enter upon 
 the ancient Lenten fast which for so many ages has 
 been hallowed in the Church ; and a full considera- 
 
164 KEEPING THE BODY UNDER. 
 
 tion of this duty may, by God's blessing, enable us to 
 spend that holy time to more spiritual profit than we 
 have ever before done. 
 
 We believe fasting to be clearly set forth as a duty 
 in the Bible; and to prove this we shall give you 
 one or two arguments from the New Testament 
 Scripture, only. Our Saviour gives directions as to 
 the manner in which men should fast, that they 
 should not go about with a sad countenance, that 
 they might seem unto men to fast : but to perform 
 that duty privately, and without shew. Now had he 
 not intended and wished that his disciples should 
 fast, he would not of course have been at the pains 
 to tell them how to do it. Moreover, He expressly 
 foretold that after He was removed from earth, 
 His Church would fast; "the disciples of John came 
 to Him saying, why do we and the Pharisees fast oft, 
 but thy disciples fast not. And Jesus said, can the 
 children of the bride-chamber mourn as long as the 
 bridegroom is with them? but the days will come, 
 when the bridegroom shall be taken from them, and 
 then shall they fast." With these sayings of our 
 Saviour, put the following facts, whicli we find re- 
 corded in the Acts of the Apostles. Cornelius was 
 fasting and praying at the time that God's angel 
 sought him with a message of mercy ; and before 
 Saul and Barnabas were sent forth on a certain mis- 
 sion, the prophets and teachers of the Church joined 
 with them not only in prayer, but also in fasting. 
 Add to all this the fact that St. Paul himself used 
 this instrument, and thought it necessary to do it for 
 his soul's health, and you will have evidence enough 
 
KEEPING THE BODY UNDER. 165 
 
 as to what is the will of Christ, and the mind of the 
 Spirit, upon this subject. 
 
 And if the Scripture be clear upon this point, this 
 Church is no less so. Using that authority wdth 
 which her Lord has entrusted her, she has appointed 
 many days throughout the year, for the performance 
 of this duty, on M^hich she ^'requires such a measure 
 of abstinence as is more especially suited to extraor- 
 dinary acts or exercises of devotion." These days 
 are Ash Wednesday, Good Friday, the forty days of 
 Lent, the Ember days at the four seasons, the three 
 Rogation days, and all the Fridays in the year ex- 
 cept Christmas day. And we see not how we can 
 call ourselves consistent members of the Church, un- 
 less we strive, according to our ability and opportu- 
 nity, to follow the rules which she has laid down, to 
 guide us in the performance of the scriptural duty of 
 fasting. 
 
 Of the manner in which this duty should be per- 
 formed, our branch of the Church has given no par- 
 ticular direction. The collect for the first Sunday 
 in Lent gives us the best general rule : that is, to 
 use such abstinence that the great end of fasting may 
 be attained, that the flesh or carnal desires in Chris- 
 tians may be subdued unto the spirit. All have not 
 the same strength, and all have not the same needs. 
 Only take care that your fast be consistent : and do 
 not as the manner of some is, prepare for it, and 
 make up for it, by gluttony, before and afterwards. If 
 you cannot abstain from food throughout the day; 
 abstain from one or tw^o meals : if you cannot do even 
 that, then imitate holy David, drink no wine and eat 
 
166 KEEPING THE BODY UNDER. 
 
 no pleasant bread, using only the coarsest fare, and 
 that sparingly. Above all, be careful to use fasting, 
 with prayer, retirement, and also alms giving. Pass 
 the time that you would have spent at your meals, 
 in your closet in meditation and pious reading and 
 prayer, and give what you may save from the ex- 
 pense of the table to the poor and needy. And in 
 this way your fast shall keep the soul and body in 
 health, and be acceptable to the Lord. 
 
 We have thus showed you what was the means 
 which St. Paul took to keep under his body and 
 bring it into subjection ; and also the scriptural and 
 ecclesiastical authority, for the use to this means. 
 I have also given you one or two hints, as to the best 
 way of using it. We shall now try to show you that 
 fasting, when rightly used, enables us to resist temp- 
 tation, and to grow in grace and holiness. 
 
 Fasting teaches us and forms in us the habit of self 
 denial. When we are tempted to commit sin, we 
 are generally tempted to do something which is, or 
 seems, or promises, to be pleasant to us. Now, if we 
 make it the great business of our lives to please our- 
 selves, we shall be falling, into sin the whole time ; 
 and shall be utterly unable to deny our passions and 
 appetites, every object for which they may clamour 
 or rage ; and the more we give into any wrong de- 
 sires, the more we are called upon and compelled to 
 give in. Every body who has lived in the habit and 
 indulgence of any wrong appetite or passion, will 
 tell you that this statement is true. And on the 
 other hand, the more a man accustoms himself to 
 deny his appetite, the easier it is to deny it. The 
 
KEEPING THE BODY UNDER. 167 
 
 first time we overcome a temptation, we have a much 
 harder struggle than the second; and the second 
 strife is harder than the third; and so on. Now to 
 eat and drink of such things as may be needful and 
 pleasant, is a lawful indulgence. But if any one is 
 accustomed to restrain and mortify his appetite as a 
 religious duty, to deny it even its just cravings, for 
 the purposes of prayer and other devotions, it is evi- 
 dent that it will be much easier for him to deny to his 
 appetite unholy and unlawful indulgences, than it 
 would otherwise have been. For it is much harder 
 to deny ourselves things which we might have law- 
 fully, than those things which it is sinful to have 
 and use. Because in the latter case we are restrained 
 by fear of God, by conscience, or by a desire to have a 
 good name with men : none of which motives effect 
 us in permitted indulgences. And if a man is able to 
 mortify his appetites and desires, when he might law- 
 fully gratify them, how much more easily can he do 
 it when, indulgence would be sin. So then you can 
 thus see how regular and conscientious fasting forms 
 in us habits of self denial, or naturally tends to give 
 us strength to resist temptation. 
 
 Moreover, fasting actually weakens the force of 
 appetite and passion, and so makes it a compara- 
 tively easy work to overcome them. If you doubt 
 this, we ask you to compare the state of the person 
 weakened by long sickness, and of one who is in rude 
 health and full of bread. Take the single passion 
 of pride, for instance, in two persons who have natur- 
 ally an equal share of it. The strong man, of pam- 
 pered appetite, is full of pride, and moves among his 
 
168 KEEPING THE BODY UNDER. 
 
 fellow men, as if he needed nothing from them : while 
 the sick man is humble and gentle and child-like, and 
 speaks and acts at if he depended "upon those about 
 him, for succour and all kind offices. Now, throw- 
 ing all supernatural influence out of the question, 
 what has made the difference between the two? The 
 strength of the rich man has been brought low, his 
 animal spirits diminished, and with them his lofty 
 pride. Now, a similar eflect will be produced on the 
 body by systematic fasting. All the various lusts 
 and passions, which strive to bind down the soul in 
 fleshly chains, are weakened and brought low: so 
 that the soul can walk freely among them, and assert 
 her mastery over them, having them for her minis- 
 ters and slaves. 
 
 Fasting also helps prayer and devotion. We are 
 sure that many words are not necessary to prove this 
 point. We will only ask j^ou at what period of the 
 day the soul mounts most readily and easily to God. 
 Is it not always in the morning, before the wants of 
 the body are attended to? Or when is it that we feel 
 least in the humour for prayer? When is it that 
 meditation is most tiresome, and God's word most 
 dull? Is it not when we have just left the full board, 
 and the cravings of appetite have been more than 
 appeased? Perhaps some of you will be disposed to 
 say that this is taking a low view of the subject, but 
 let us beg you to look back at the text. Remember 
 that the spiritually minded Paul found it necessary 
 to bring under his body, and keep it in subjection ; 
 and then we are sure that you cannot blame us for 
 showing you that fasting tends to bring under the 
 
KEEPING THE BODY UNDER. 169 
 
 body. And let us remind you here, that God has 
 made some of the most wonderful revelations of His 
 will and ways to men who were fasting-. Moses fast- 
 ed forty days and nights before he received the law ; 
 and while Daniel was fasting and praying, the angel 
 Gabriel came to give him skill and understanding. 
 It is ever when the flesh is subded unto the spirit, 
 that the soul is most ready to hear the whispers of 
 its God ; for then it is nearest to His throne. 
 
 Lastly, the act of fasting enables us to realize 
 things unseen and eternal, more perfectly, perhaps, 
 than any other act of religion. We mean, of course, 
 in every man's own mind. We think that, with few 
 exceptions, no Christian can fast habitually, and con- 
 scientiously, without being in good sober earnest 
 about getting to heaven, and pleasing God. On the 
 other hand, except in some strongly marked cases of 
 hypocrisy, no worldly-minded person will fast regu- 
 larly and frequently. The act, then, being one that 
 belongs so strictly and peculiarly to the Christian, 
 and being so contrary to the spirit of the world, its 
 right performance brings heavenly and spiritual 
 things very clearly before the mind. Fasting is a 
 strong confession to ourselves that this earth is not 
 our rest; that we were not sent here to be perfectly 
 happy; but that our affections are to be turned away, 
 as it were, from all these things, about which they 
 love to twine, and be fixed upon those things which 
 mortal men see not, and for which flesh and blood 
 never crave. 
 
 We trust that you will be thus convinced of the 
 spiritual benefit and efficacy of fasting, and so be led 
 
 22 
 
170 KEEPING THE BODY UNDER. 
 
 to practice it for yourselves. We fear that this duty 
 is too much neglected in these times; but it was not 
 so in the best ages of the Church. It was called by 
 the ancient doctors of the Church, in the words of a 
 great and pious Bishop, " the nourishment of prayer, 
 the restraint of lust, the wings of the soul, the diet 
 of angels, the instrument of humility and self-denial, 
 and the purification of the spirit." The holy men 
 who gave these names to fasting, used it constantly 
 and faithfully; and their equals in piety and faith- 
 fulness, in spirituality, in love, in meekness and 
 humility, the world never saw. My brethren, if we 
 used more the ancient discipline of the saints, we 
 should enjoy more of their peace and blessedness, 
 their sense of the favour of God, and their mighty 
 conquest over sin. 
 
 One word of caution to any who may be led to set 
 about the performance of this duty. You will be 
 tempted to lay it aside altogether after the first few 
 trials, to think it a vain, unprofitable exercise. Pain- 
 ful undoubtedly it will be and distasteful to our na- 
 tural desires ; but " they that would be Christ's, 
 must crucify the flesh with its affections and lusts." 
 We must not expect that this work will be pleasant. 
 If you wish to derive benefit you must get into the 
 habit of fasting; and then the increase in holy joy, 
 which you will experience, the freedom in prayer 
 which you will have, the calm meditation and 
 solemn retirement of your fast-days, will make 
 them the happiest and most peaceful of the whole 
 year. But if you would gain these benefits and joys, 
 you must persevere in the duty, in spite of the loud 
 
KEEPING THE BODY UNDER. 171 
 
 remonstrance of your natural inclinations. Or, per- 
 haps, in obedience to the requirements of the Church, 
 you may acquire the habit of fasting, and enjoy its 
 use as an instrument of religion. It may be that 
 Satan will tempt you to think such things of your- 
 self, and to despise others who may not take the 
 same views of this duty as you do. But it should 
 seem that a fresh reflection upon one of the reasons 
 of fasting would beat down all such thouohts. We 
 fast because we are miserable sinners, liable to be 
 brought into captivity by base lusts and desires: and 
 if with this thought in the mind, a man prides himself 
 in acts of fasting and humiliation, he will soon think 
 it reasonable in the sick man to be fond of the dis- 
 tasteful medicine to which disease prompts him to 
 resort. 
 
 My brethren, we wish all of you, whether sancti- 
 fied, or living in sin ; whether members of the Church 
 or not, to weigh well the words of our text. " I keep 
 under my body and bring it into subjection, lest that 
 by any means, when I have preached to others I 
 myself should be a cast away." If St. Paul, who had 
 seen the Lord face to face, who was caught up into 
 paradise and into heaven, and was endowed with 
 wonderful gifts and powers, thought it necessary to 
 take such heed lest he should be lost forever, how 
 can you expect to be saved unless you imitate his 
 holy watchfulness and practice his stern discipline? 
 If he, in afflictions, in necessities, in distress, in stripes, 
 in imprisonments, in tumults, and labours, still labour- 
 ed to bring under his body and keep it in subjection, 
 how much more ousfht we to take order for the same 
 
172 KEEPING THE BODY UNDER. 
 
 thing, surrounded as most of us are, with comforts 
 and luxuries, which so often draw back the heart 
 from things above. If the body be not brought into 
 subjection to the soul, the soul must be under the 
 dominion of the body. Your natural servants will 
 become your stern tyrants here, and your everlasting 
 scourges hereafter. When the soul which served 
 the passions and appetites of the body on earth, shall 
 return to its old habitation in the general resurrection 
 at the last day, it will probably come again under the 
 dominion of its lusts. They will awaken from their 
 long sleep with ten thousand fold fury. They will 
 seize upon their former victim. They will crave for 
 ever and ever ; and be appeased not even for a single 
 moment. It is probably as true in eternity as in 
 time, "he that soweth to the flesh, shall of the flesh 
 reap corruption." My dear brethren, we beseech all 
 of you to mortify your members which are upon the 
 earth. Hard as it may be to do, nail your affections 
 and lusts to the blood-stained cross, and with Christ 
 die to this present world ! Sow to the Spirit; and in 
 the world to come — blessed Paul, if you could speak 
 to us, how exultingly would you attest the truth of 
 this cheering promise! — you shall, of the Spirit, 
 reap a glorious and everlasting harvest of eternal life. 
 
SERMON XIV. 
 
 EVERY CHRISTIAN A MISSIONARY. 
 
 That which we have seen and heard, declare we unto you, that ye 
 also may have fellowship with us. 
 
 1. John, i. 3. 
 
 In these words the beloved disciple declares the rea- 
 sons, and the object for which he Avrote his epistle. 
 Having personally known the Saviour, having leaned 
 upon His bosom, heard His most confidential dis- 
 courses, and enjoyed His love, the Apostle writes to 
 others, that which he himself had seen and heard, 
 that they might share with him in the same inesti- 
 mable privileges, blessings and hopes. These words 
 will lead us to the consideration of a duty into which 
 every one of us was baptized, namely, to do all in our 
 power to spread the blessings of that Gospel, which 
 we enjoy, among those who know not of them, or 
 knowing, have never been led to experience and enjoy 
 them. Various v/ays of discharging this duty have 
 been from time to time, most faithfully and plainly 
 set before you, by him who is over us in the Lord. 
 You have been told, that we must give of our sub- 
 stance to the Lord ; that our prayers must ascend 
 unceasingly that the kingdoms and nations of the 
 earth, that every member of the great human family, 
 may become kingdoms of Christ, and spiritual child- 
 ren of God. We purpose to speak to night, of that 
 part of the duty, which is to be performed by Chris- 
 
174 EVERY CHRISTIAN A MISSIONARY. 
 
 tians in their own persons, and not by their duly ap- 
 pointed agents. When you pour your silver and 
 gold into the treasury of the Lord, the Church, by 
 her ministers, is your agent for carrying into effect 
 your wishes and desires, for the extension of the Re- 
 deemer's kingdom. But in a modest, unostentatious 
 and limited way, every Christian can do, and is 
 solemnly bound to do, more than this, for the cause of 
 religion. He may, and lie can, if it please God, be 
 the instrument, in his own person, of carrying a 
 saving knowledge of God, to the hearts and minds of 
 some who are living without hope in the world ; and 
 that too, without at all intruding into the office, or 
 overreaching upon the functions of those, whom 
 Christ has especially consecrated to this glorious 
 v7ork ; those ministers of whom he has spoken, the 
 serious and ever to be remembered words "he that 
 heareth you, heareth Me; and he that despiseth you, 
 despiseth Me J' 
 
 We would regard, then, every Christian as a Mis- 
 sionary. Is it so ? And how may he best perform his 
 appropriate work ? 
 
 We think that we can prove, that every private 
 Christian is bound to act as a Missionary of Jesus 
 Christ, in a certain sense. In what sense, will be in- 
 directly shown, under the second head of our dis- 
 course; from certain facts in Scripture, and from the 
 reasonableness of the thing itself We read in St. 
 John's Gopel, that Andrew, Simon Peter's brother 
 when directed to the Lamb of God, by the Baptist, 
 " first findeth his own brother Simon, and saith unto 
 him, we have found the Messias, which is, being inter- 
 
EVERY CHRISTIAN A MISSIONARY. 175 
 
 preted, the Christ. And he brought him to Jesus." 
 Now this is precisely what we wish all Christians to 
 do, when we say, that they should all act as Mission- 
 aries. We who have found Christ (if any of us have 
 been so blessed) have all of us either brother, sisters, 
 connexions, friends, neighbours, children, depend- 
 ants and servants, who know Him not. Let all of us 
 imitate Andrew — tell them that we have found the 
 Christ, and have been found of Him, and bring them 
 unto Jesus. And what an incalculable amount of 
 good, God may give us to do, in this way ! We our- 
 selves may be rude of speech, unapt to teach, unfit- 
 ted from a want of genius, or talents or acquire- 
 ments, to make a strong impression, and to exercise 
 an extensive influence upon the mass of men ; but 
 God may bless our efforts, to the conversion and 
 sanctification of some individual of great powers and 
 abilities, who may stir up, like Paul, whole nations, 
 by his eloquence, and by his life, and his preaching 
 be the means of awakening thousands in Christian 
 lands, from their sleep of sin and indifference, or of 
 bringing multitudes from heathen darkness, into 
 God's marvellous light. And who, in that case, 
 would be the world's greatest benefactor? The su- 
 perficial reader of the Bible, would point to St. Peter 
 as a far more useful and eminent Apostle, than his 
 brother; yet it was his brother who brought him 
 to Christ. The multitude of religious men, have 
 thanked God for the wisdom, the learning, the piety, 
 and the useful labours of St. Augustine, the famous 
 Bishop of Hippo; the more thoughtful Christian, is 
 disposed to dwell with gratitude, upon the tears and 
 
176 EVERY CHRISTIAN A MISSIONARY. 
 
 prayers, and persevering- exhortations of his devoted 
 mother Monica. Thus often is it, that the greatest 
 benefactors of men, are those the least known and 
 unobserved. The broad river that fertiUzes exten- 
 sive territories, and bears upon its surface vessels 
 richly laden with the produce of its banks, is known 
 to all men. The deep spring, from whence it has 
 its source, hidden in the cavern of some distant hill, 
 is seen alone by God. Christian, if thou wilt imi- 
 tate Andrew, and endeavour to lead some brother to 
 Jesus, thou mayest be, as it were, the spring to 'a 
 stream that shall bear thousands to the haven of ever- 
 lasting rest. 
 
 In the same way with Andrew, Philip went to Na- 
 thaniel, when he had found Christ. But the fact to 
 which we ask particular attention, is that recorded in 
 the 8th chapter of the Acts of the Apostles; where we 
 read that they which were scattered abroad in the 
 persecution of the Church, at Jerusalem, went every 
 where preaching the word. We have reason to be- 
 lieve that the persons here spoken of, were, private 
 Christians or Laymen ; though from the expression, 
 preaching, we have no ground to think that they 
 acted as public ambassadors of Christ. The word 
 preaching, means in this place, simply the telling of 
 good news. The same word occurs in the 5th verse 
 of the same chapter, in our translation, where we are 
 told that Philip, the Deacon, went down to the city 
 of Samaria, and preached Christ unto them ; but the 
 word in the original tongue, is quite another word 
 from that which expresses what was done by those 
 private Christians who were scattered abroad in the 
 
 i 
 
1^ 
 
 EVERY CHRISTIAN A MISSIONARY. 177 
 
 persecution. The former word means to proclaim 
 as a herald— that is, to preach publicly — the latter, 
 simply"(as I just now said) to tell good news; which 
 may be done, you know, either in private or public. 
 As w^e no where find that these private men ever un- 
 dertake to administer the holy sacraments, or to 
 found and gather Churches, and from the remark- 
 able difference between the word which describes 
 their teaching, and that which describes the teach- 
 ing of Philip, the Deacon ; we conclude that these 
 Laymen, wherever they were, went from house 
 to house, telling all whom they met, or with whom 
 they conversed, of Christ, of what He had done for 
 their own souls, and of what He is ever ready to do 
 to all who^ will come to Him in his appointed ways. 
 So then we have clear evidence in the Acts of the 
 Apostles, that private Christians not only gave alms, 
 and prayed for the cause of Christ, but also used 
 personal efforts to advance it; and unless the religion 
 of Christ has changed, and the state of the world no 
 longer requires it, (which will hardly be affirmed) we 
 have strong grounds on which to stand, and urge 
 Christians to use all proper personal efforts to bring to 
 Christ, all persons over whom opportunity or station 
 gives them an influence, or whom the providence of 
 God may bring in their way. 
 
 And if Scripture warrants such a course of con- 
 duct, we shall find no difficulty in proving it to be a 
 reasonable course. Indeed, we might take a dif- 
 ferent position, and say that every Christian is con- 
 strained by reason (if he hear its dictates) to follow 
 such a course. If any of us had received great bene- 
 
 23 
 
178 EVERY CHRISTIAN A MISSIONARY. 
 
 fit from some spring possessed of medical qualities, 
 if its waters, blessed by the healing angel, had washed 
 away disease and infirmity from us, should we not 
 naturally feel desirous that every person in the wide 
 world, afflicted in the same way with ourselves, 
 should use the means which had been so efficacious 
 to us? No one will doubt as to the answer to this 
 question. The joy and comfort which the boon of 
 health restores to the heart, is so deep and great, that 
 all who have experienced them desires that others 
 should participate in them. We could hardly find 
 the heart to pass by a pale invalid, afflicted in the 
 way in which we lately were afflicted, without stop- 
 ping to tell him, stranger though he might be, of 
 the remedy which had given relief to us. Now, if 
 such would be the course, which wonld naturally 
 and reasonably be followed in bodily things, how 
 much more in spiritual ; for the effects of bodily dis- 
 ease, are, at the most, only temporal, while the eff'ects 
 of spiritual disease unless it be removed, are eternal. 
 Viewed in this light, nothing seems more natural and 
 reasonable, than for one who has been delivered from 
 the guilt and burden of sin by Jesus Christ, to seek to 
 bring every one whom he can, yet suffering from the 
 same cause, to the same great Physician. 
 
 If the treasure of the Christian, like other treasures, 
 diminished in quantity, as the participators of it in- 
 creased in number, a desire to share it with others 
 might seem unreasonable. But as it is, the riches of 
 Christ are unsearchable. There was a drop of blood 
 shed from His wounds for every transgression ever 
 committed; there is wisdom in Him, sufficient to 
 
EVERY CHRISTIAN A MISSIONARY. 179 
 
 correct every human folly ; there is grace enough in 
 Him, to overcome every infirmity and every weak- 
 ness of men: and the Christian, in leading others to 
 the hidden treasures, which he has found, deprives 
 himself of nothing. On the contrary, by that very act 
 he increases his own share; even as Scripture tells 
 us, "give and it shall be given unto you." Have 
 we not said enough to convince you that it is the 
 scriptural and reasonable duty of every Christian, to 
 declare to the irreligious, those things which he has 
 experienced, that they may have fellowship with him? 
 Eyery Christian, then, in a certain sense being a 
 Missionary, being sent to seek and save lost souls, 
 the question arises, how may he best perform this 
 work? The answer to this question is difficult and 
 delicate; because we would place no restrictions 
 which might hinder any man from doing every thing 
 that he lawfully may for the cause of Christ; and 
 because no man, not properly sent, that is without 
 external commission from Christ through the suc- 
 cessors of the apostles, has a right to execute any of 
 the peculiar functions of the priesthood. Thus no 
 layman has a right to preach and teach publicly. If 
 he does it, he cannot expect the blessing of Christ : 
 and if Christ should bless his preaching to the con- 
 version, or sanctification of souls ; he blesses the 
 truth delivered, and not the instrument by which it 
 was delivered. Yet a layman may teach under the 
 authority of his pastor or Bishop, as a catechist, either 
 children or adults. In answering this question, we 
 shall now only have time to throw out a few brief 
 hints. 
 
180 EVERY CHRISTIAN A MISSIONARY. 
 
 In order to success in this work, a man must be a 
 true Christian himself; and the more eminent he 
 is in holiness, the more successful he may hope to be 
 in leading others to follow his example. Unless he 
 is hid in God himself, unless as he goes in and out 
 among his fellows, he has in connection with the 
 great truths of redemption an abiding and realizing 
 sense of death, judgment and the unspeakable bliss 
 and woe of eternity, he cannot hope to speak to the 
 impenitent with that fervour and unction which in- 
 duces them to think that you believe, and feel what 
 you speak, and are striving yourselves to do, that 
 when you bid them to do. A man must have spi- 
 ritually viewed and heard religious truth, before he 
 can effectually declare it to others, and invite them 
 to partake with him of its rich blessings. 
 
 Now, there are many truly pious persons, who, ad- 
 mitting the force of all that has been said, labour 
 earnestly to bring friends, neighbours and relations 
 to Christ, and make it a business upon all occasions 
 and in all companies to introduce the subject of reli- 
 gion, to speak to men pointedly upon the necessity 
 of their attending to the salvation of their souls, to 
 exhort, reprove and rebuke. Such efforts in the vast 
 majority of cases are unsuccessful, and the person 
 who makes them becomes an object of general dis- 
 like. This dislike he ascribes to the depravity of 
 the heart, and looks upon it as the offence of the 
 Cross, and rejoices to think that he is hated for his 
 Saviour's sake. But the cause may generally be 
 found in the impertinence of the efforts, however 
 well meant it may have been. Undoubtedly in order 
 
EVERY CHRISTIAN A MISSIONARY. 181 
 
 to do good to the souls of men, we must introduce 
 the subject of religion in conversation. But we 
 must be upon the look out for right and proper 
 times and places. It is not the word spoken, but 
 the word Jitlt/ spoken, that is so good. Then again, 
 men will not give heed to us for our much speaking; 
 a single word of the right sort will often reach a 
 heart which would have been hardened by a long 
 exhortation. As an illustration of this I remember a 
 striking anecdote of the well known and excellent 
 Felix Neff. Neff was walking one day along the 
 principal street of one of the villages in his cure, 
 when he discerned a person before him whom he 
 took for one of his flock. Walking up to him at a 
 brisk rate, Neff laid his hand upon his shoulder, ex- 
 claiming, " well, friend, how is it with your soul to- 
 day ?" The person proved to be a total stranger, 
 and Neff politely apologized and went on his way. 
 Years after, he was met by the same person, who run- 
 ning up to him said, " Oh, sir, how much I have to 
 thank you for that one word. You asked me of my 
 soul once, mistaking me for your friend ; .that ques- 
 tion led me to think that I had an immortal soul, and 
 to seek its salvation." Now reasoning from what we 
 know of man, is it too much to say if Neff had added 
 to his question a long exhortation, as the manner 
 of some is, that the result would have been very dif- 
 ferent. 
 
 Then, again, when we speak to irreligious persons 
 about the necessity of holiness, or any like topic, we 
 should do it without any appearance, and without any 
 feeling, of superiority. We should speak to them 
 
182 EVERY CHRISTIAN A MISSIONARY. 
 
 kindly, affectionately and humbly, as to fellow suf- 
 ferers. My friend, I was once afflicted as you are ; 
 but I have found a most efficacious remedy : will you 
 not try it? I was once as needy as you, but a great 
 Friend to both of us, hath given me a treasure. Will 
 you not come and take your share of it ? This must 
 be the spirit of all our words and our deeds, spoken 
 and wrought for the salvation of men. 
 
 It is also undoubtedly the duty of a Christian who 
 thinks, feels and strives to act as I have described, 
 boldly to rebuke vice and irreligion; yet this also 
 must be done with a due regard to place and person. 
 Our superiors in age and station are to be treated 
 upon principle with due respect, even if we cannot 
 approve of their conduct and their conversation. 
 Often a serious silence will make a deeper and better 
 impression upon the blasphemer or the profane, than 
 a pointed rebuke. 
 
 On the whole subject then we would say to a 
 Christian who seeks to win souls to Christ; first 
 strive by courtesy^ attention and kindness to gain the 
 affections pf those whom you would influence for 
 good. When you speak to them about religion, speak 
 gently and humbly, without any affectation of su- 
 periority, and be careful not to weary or disgust. 
 Put a good book into their hands at the right time ; 
 call their attention to some appropriate passage of 
 holy writ ; and be patient and persevering in your 
 labours if you would effect lasting good. Accompany 
 each particular effort with particular prayer for God's 
 blessing. It is recorded of the late Bishop Jolly, an 
 eminently pious prelate of the Church of Scotland, 
 
EVERY CHRISTIAN A MISSIONARY. 183 
 
 that he never sat down to converse with any person, 
 without first engaging in mental prayer that God 
 would bless and sanctify their conversation, and him 
 with whom he was to hold intercourse. The exam- 
 ple is worthy of all imitation. Above all, if you 
 would freely give of the blessings of the gospel, you 
 must first freely receive. 
 
 These remarks will perhaps appear cold and de- 
 fective to the religious enthusiast; while the worldly 
 minded and irrehsrious will deem them extravao^ant. 
 But serious, thoughtful, and experienced Christians, 
 have generally regarded calm and patient labours as 
 more effective than the violent and spasmodic efforts, 
 approved by certain, who seem to be very zealous 
 for the cause of God. Let us all of us, each in our 
 own order, strive diligently to bring all we can to 
 holiness, here and. so to eternal salvation hereafter. If 
 we shall be saved ourselves and attain to the full 
 fruition of the glorious God-head, how will it deepen 
 our joy throughout eternity to behold even one from 
 the bright band of the redeemed, pressing forward to 
 us and exclaiming — Your patient and gentle warning 
 and exhortation under God, were the means of lead- 
 ing me here ; if it had not been for you the blackness 
 of darkness would have enshrouded me forever ! My 
 brethren, if we have no desire for, if we use no efforts 
 for the salvation of perishing beings around us, if we 
 seek not to bring them to sweet fellowship with the 
 Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost, is it not be- 
 cause w^e ourselves have no saving and sanctifying 
 knowledge of the truth as it is in Jesus ? 
 
 JRW 
 
SERMON XV. 
 
 CHRIST WEEPING OVER JERUSALEM. 
 
 [ For the fourth Sunday in Lent.] 
 
 And when He was come near, He beheld the city and wept over it, 
 
 saying, If thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this thy day, 
 
 the things which belong unto thy peace ! but now they are hid 
 
 from thine eyes, — For tiie days shall come upon thee, that thine 
 
 enemies shall cast a trench about thee, and compass thee round, 
 
 and keep thee in on every side, and they shall lay thee even with 
 
 the ground, and thy children within thee ; and they shall not leave 
 
 in thee one stone upon another; because thou knowest not the 
 
 time of thy visitation. 
 
 St. Luke, xix, 41, 42, 43, and 44. 
 
 These words were uttered by our blessed Saviour as 
 He was approaching Jerusalem, in triumphal proces- 
 sion. Multitudes shouted hosannas in His ears, and 
 the way before Him was green with festive branches, 
 cast at his sacred feet. All was joy, gladness, and 
 hope. As the Lord descended the Mount of Olives, 
 the Holy City "beautiful for situation, the joy of 
 the whole earth," appeared spread out before Him, 
 with its mighty towers and bulwarks, its proud pa- 
 laces and its majestic temple glittering in the noon- 
 day sun ; and at this sight, in the very hour of His 
 triumphal entrance, " Jesus wept." The full voiced 
 welcomes died away over the mountains; silence 
 spread amid the moving multitude, and in astonish- 
 ment each asked himself, what there was in the 
 
 1L 
 
CHRIST WEEPING OVER JERUSALEM. 185 
 
 beautiful view before Him, or in the stirring hum of 
 pleasure and business, that rose above the city, which 
 could thus excite the grief of Him, that claimed to be 
 that city's Lord and King? And what was it, bre- 
 thren, that thus brought tears from the eyes of the 
 Son of Man? Was it because He knew that, in a 
 few days, the same lips that now swelled hosannas, 
 would lift up the horrid cry. Crucify Him! Crucify 
 Him ? Was it because, with a prophet's eye, He fore- 
 saw three crosses raised on Calvary's awful summit, 
 and Himself writhing in blood on one of them, cruci- 
 fied between two thieves? Ah, He, who, on His way 
 to death, exclaimed to the company of women which 
 bewailed and lamented Him, " daughters of Jerusa- 
 lem, weep not for me, but weep for yourselves, and 
 for your children," had no tears to shed at the pros- 
 pect of His own sufferings and death ! But Jesus 
 wept over the city, which then appeared so beautiful, 
 because its day of salvation was over, and its doom 
 sealed ; because He knew, that in a few years those 
 broad streets would be piled with the dead, those 
 proud buildings be wrapped in flames, and brought 
 low with the ground ; that busy hum be exchanged 
 for curses and execrations, and unanswered prayers 
 for mercy, and the shrieks of the dying; while the 
 Roman armies would darken the country with their 
 hosts for miles round, and their eagles wave over the 
 sacred walls, until the abomination of desolation 
 stood in the Holy of Holies, deserted forever by its 
 God — and Jerusalem was a heap of blackened ruins ! 
 The narrative contained in the text, may teach us, 
 my brethren, these things : 
 
 24 
 
186 CHRIST WEEPING OVER JERUSALEM. 
 
 I. That the Saviour has great pity and compas- 
 sion for perishing sinners. 
 
 II. That his pity and compassion will not prevent 
 Him from executing threatened vengeance upon those, 
 who obey not the Gospel. 
 
 III. That man has a day of visitation, in which if he 
 is not saved, the things which belong unto his peace, 
 are -hid from his eyes. — May God the Holy Ghost 
 open our eyes to understand these things, and saving- 
 ly impress them in our minds and hearts. 
 
 " When he was come near, He beheld the city, and 
 wept over it." The father, who weeps at the neces- 
 sary chastisement of his child ; the judge, who weeps 
 when he condemns the criminal to death ; the king 
 or the chief ruler, who weeps when he sets his hand 
 to the fata] warrant that cuts off every hope from the 
 condemned, are all thought, and rightly thought, to 
 feel pity and sorrow for the suffering, which law and 
 justice compel them to inflict upon the guilty. How 
 strong then the pity and compassion for lost sinners, 
 written in the tears of the Son of Man ; tears, which 
 preach a more powerful and touching sermon to the 
 impenitent, than any to which mortal lips can give 
 utterance. From them we may learn, that Christ 
 has pity upon those, who have no pity upon them- 
 selves. There were the inhabitants of that great city, 
 rushing on to the terrible doom which awaited them, 
 all mirth and gladness : there was the only One, upon 
 whom the coming destruction would bring no injury, 
 bathed in tears. And thus we may believe it is now\ 
 Sinners are hurrying on to the day of wrath, which 
 ere long will break upon them, in light-hearted mer- 
 
CHRIST WEEPING OVER JERUSALEM. 187 
 
 riment: and Jesus, from the right hand of the ma- 
 jesty on high, bends down in the deepest compassion 
 and sorrow; for His eye takes in the range of eternity. 
 He sees where the eye of the wicked and the worldly 
 cannot reach. Years of sunshine and happiness, and 
 luxury and pleasure, meet the bad man's glance, 
 and he laughs for joy at the prospect : Christ beholds, 
 far beyond the brief years of mortal life, ages, and 
 ages, and never ending ages of darkness, and misery, 
 and anguish ; and He weeps. Would that the im- 
 penitent would think well upon this portion of our 
 Saviour's life, and reflect that it is this compassion- 
 ate, and afflicted, this weeping Saviour, whom they 
 are rejecting and setting at naught. Perhaps the 
 thought of the Saviour's tears for their sorrows, will 
 lead them to weep for themselves — to weep for their 
 sins, and bring them to Him, who can wipe away all 
 tears, create the fruit of the lips in praise and thanks- 
 giving for salvation, and speak "peace, peace" to 
 the heart that, far from God, is disquieted at the re- 
 membrance of its guilt. 
 
 " When He was come near. He beheld the city, and 
 wept over it." One unacquainted with the dignity 
 and divinity of our Lord Jesus Christ, who beheld 
 Him weeping over the fall of Jerusalem, would have 
 thought that His tears were those of helpless sorrow, 
 that He was all unable to prevent the calamity, 
 that was soon to overwhelm the Jewish people. But 
 He could have prevented it, if He had willed it : the 
 Son of God, very God of very God, all power was 
 His in heaven and earth ; and that same voice, which 
 bade five loaves become food for five thousand, which 
 
1S8 CHRIST WEEPING OVER JERUSALEM. 
 
 pierced the dull, cold ear of death; that same voice, 
 which uttered the word that cleansed the leper from 
 his loathsome disease, gave sight to the blind, hear- 
 ing to the deaf, and made the withered limb nervous 
 and strong in a moment; that same voice, which 
 hushed to stillness the stormy winds and waves in 
 their wildest play, could have swept the armies of 
 Rome from the face of the earth. Here then we be- 
 hold the Son of Man weeping over calamities, which 
 the Son of God might have averted. My friends, 
 this incident was written for our learning; and from 
 it we may gain an instructive lesson. There are 
 some in the world, who think that God is so compas- 
 sionate and pit ful, that He wall never execute the 
 fearful threatenings that we find on the pages of 
 our Bibles; that because God has said He is not 
 willing that any should perish, therefore no one will 
 perish. By reasoning in this way it is, that some 
 people, embrace the soul-destroying delusion, that all 
 men will finally be saved. We ask every man, who 
 holds this notion, to go with us to the foot of the 
 Mount of Olives. In the tears of the Lord Jesus, 
 then shed, we see all that he tells us of God's 
 great mercy and unwillingness that men should be 
 lost. But when I read of the horrors that attended 
 the siege and destruction of Jerusalem by the Ro- 
 mans, and remember, that it was in the power of 
 Christ to have saved that city, over which He wept 
 and lamented ; I feel that no pity and compassion in 
 God, is strong enough to prevent Him from executing 
 the vengeance, which He has threatened against those, 
 who persist in disobedience to His laM^s. Thus is it, 
 
CHRIST WEEPING OVER JERUSALEM. 189 
 
 that the incident, recorded in the text, preaches to us, 
 at the same time, the mercy and wrath of God. God 
 is a God of great mercy ; if He were not, my brethren, 
 where should we all be to-day? He has no pleasure 
 in the death of him that dieth. But the flood and 
 storm of fire that buried the cities of the plain, and 
 the destruction of Jerusalem, and the stern fulfilments 
 of all God's past threatenings, must teach us, that all 
 His threatenings for the future will be rigidly exe- 
 cuted, even to the letter. The tears of Jesus ! How 
 eloquent of His compassion for the city of God, and 
 for the creatures of God ! The tears of Jesus ! strano-e 
 though it be ; how sternly they tell us, that God's 
 mercy has a limit, beyond which it cannot pass ; and 
 that compassion and pity will not always stay the up- 
 lifted arm of justice. Sinner, if the tears of Jesus can- 
 not melt thy heart to love, they may arouse thy terror. 
 "If thou hadst known, even thou, in this thy day 
 the things which belong unto thy peace ! but now 
 
 they are hid from thine eyes." "because 
 
 thou knewest not the time of thy visitation." These 
 words bring us to the third thing, which we may 
 learn from the text; namely, that man has a day of 
 visitation, after which, if he persists in a course of 
 sin and disobedience, the things that concern his 
 eternal peace, are forever hidden from him. It is a 
 common notion, that while man lives, he may hope 
 for heaven ; that every day that shines upon him is 
 a day of salvation. Under this notion many put 
 aside good thoughts and counsels year after year, 
 until they cease to come into the heart. But a 
 careful examination of God's word, and of His past 
 
190 CHRIST WEEPING OVER JERUSALEM. 
 
 dealings with nations and individuals, will lead us 
 to a different opinion. Life is not always a season of 
 probation. With some, even here, the trial is over , 
 and their sentence of final condemnation has been 
 uttered. " They knew not the time of their visita- 
 tion;" they cannot see, they never will see, "the 
 things which belong to their peace." 
 
 There may be seen a striking analogy or likeness, 
 between God's dealings with whole nations, and 
 His dealings with private individuals. And this is 
 what we should beforehand expect ; for a nation, be- 
 ing made up of individuals, depends for its character 
 upon the character of the individuals, of which it is 
 composed. If the great part of the members of any 
 nation are bad, the character of the nation at large is 
 bad. If God casts off a whole people, it is because 
 the people, as a whole, are rebellious and perverse. If 
 He casts off an individual, it is because, taken in his 
 whole life and character, the evil far outweighs the 
 good. With this view the private Christian ought 
 to study the history of the Jewish people. As they 
 were God's chosen and elect; so he is chosen and 
 elect. Now, the Jews had their time of visitation ; 
 the day, in which they might have known the way 
 of peace. The Son of God came among them with 
 great power; and they despised and rejected Him: 
 and then their heart was hardened, and their mind 
 was darkened, and they could not believe. Now, 
 we say that all individuals in Christian lands have 
 their day of visitation, which is made a day of salva- 
 tion by the few, and of condemnation, as we fear, by 
 the many. Some have their day of visitation in 
 
CHRIST WEEPING OVER JERUSALEM. 191 
 
 youth. In Holy Baptism, in the teachings of pious 
 parents, pastors, and friends, Christ draws near to 
 the young heart : but the pleasures of life have filled 
 it up, and it knows not the time of its visitation. To 
 some more advanced in life, in an alarmino- sermon, or 
 an afflictive dispensation, such as the loss of health, 
 or property, or friends, Christ makes His visit: but 
 repinings and murmurings, the love of the world, and 
 the hunting after its riches, and honours, and plea- 
 sures, hide the Saviour from their eyes, so they know 
 not that He has been in their midst. We all must 
 feel that these things are so; for we all perhaps have 
 seen and known persons young and old, v/hose at- 
 tention for a time w^as strongly directed to the subject 
 of religion; and after a little their interest in it died 
 away, and seemed never again to be revived. Will 
 you ask why these things are so? Why is it that a 
 man cannot, at any time, turn and prepare himself to 
 faith and calling upon God ? We» answer, that inas- 
 much as man cannot repent, or do any thing good, 
 without the grace of God, it seems natural, and ac- 
 cording to what we every day see done in this world, 
 that if he will not improve that grace while he has it, 
 after a fair trial, that it should be taken from him. 
 If any of you had let out a farm upon the condition, 
 that you should receive a part of the produce for your 
 rent, and if year after year your tenant neglected to 
 cultivate the land, would you not feel justified at least 
 in taking it from him, even if he were turned out to 
 starve ? And shall man be permitted to trifle wdth the 
 Spirit of God? 
 
 What a place our earth would be, if men might 
 
192 CHRIST WEEPING OVER JERUSALEM. 
 
 always spend their lives in sin, and then at the last be 
 enabled to effectually repent upon their death-beds? 
 If a man has one fair chance of salvation, and neglects 
 it at first; oh ! what rioht has he to ask for a second ? 
 My brethren, we hope and pray, that such of you 
 as may now be moved by good thoughts, or who 
 are thinking, either of becoming members of the 
 Church, or of renewing your baptismal vow^s, may be 
 brought, by the little that has been said on this part 
 of our subject, to see the great danger of putting 
 aside good thoughts and purposes to a more conve- 
 nient season, or of neglecting for a moment any duty, 
 which you owe to your Saviour and God. You 
 have often been told, when spoken to about your 
 salvation, that you do not know how near you 
 may be standing to the brink of the dark grave ? 
 It is a solemn and startling thought, and yet there 
 is a thought more fearful still. You do not know 
 but this day, if unimproved, will close the time of 
 your visitation; but that the wish, the half-formed 
 resolution, to become Christ's, which now agitates 
 your bosom, will be the last that God will ever 
 send there, unless you strive earnestly to-day to 
 bring it to good effect. Are there not those here 
 who have been putting off the work of repentance 
 and reformation, and neglecting the means of grace, 
 baptism, or confirmation, or the communion, for long 
 years? Surely some awaked hearts will feel that they 
 have been guilty of madness. Oh ! is there one here, 
 the time of whose visitation is over, and from whose 
 eyes the things that belong unto his peace are forever 
 hid? He, who wept over Jerusalem, alone knows. 
 
SERMON XVI. 
 
 THE NECESSITY OF HOLINESS. 
 
 Follow peace with all men, and holiness, without which no man 
 
 shall see the Lord. 
 
 Hebrews, xii. 14. 
 
 To desire to ascertain if we have a title to the pri- 
 vileges, blessings, and joys of heaven, is very natural 
 in dying men ; for if we be persuaded of the truth of 
 the eternal things revealed to us in the Scriptures, it 
 would be strange, if we did not wish to know what 
 will be our portion, in that world, and in that state, 
 which abideth forever. And such a desire is always 
 found in the hearts of men, whose attention has been 
 strongly directed to the necessity of preparation for 
 that which is to come after death. How may I know 
 that my sins have been forgiven, and that I am ac- 
 cepted in "the Beloved," is a question, which is fre- 
 quently asked by the anxious penitent, and the thing 
 most sought for at the present day, is an assurance 
 that the punishment of sin has been remitted to the 
 offender. With the answer to this question we have 
 at this time nothing to do, except to remark in pass- 
 ing, that the answer, generally or frequently given in 
 our day, appears to us to be highly unscriptural ; 
 since the commandments of men set aside the one 
 baptism for the remission of sins received, or after- 
 wards embraced, in repentance and faith, and place in 
 
 25 
 
194 THE NECESSITY OF HOLINESS. 
 
 its stead an inward whisper of peace ; — peace, which 
 too often has been heard in hearts, which seem not to 
 have been set to obey God's commandments, and 
 where self still reigns unsubdued; making its un- 
 toward power manifest, in slander and evil speaking, 
 in temper and pride, and in disobedience to the wise 
 counsels and just rules of those, whom Christ has ap- 
 pointed to feed His blood-bought flock. We wish to 
 speak to-day of a qualification for heaven, without 
 which no remission of sins will be of any avail; of 
 the only sure sign, that we are spiritually and indeed 
 members of Christ and children of God, — " holiness, 
 without which no man shall see the Lord." We be- 
 lieve holiness to be the great object to be pursued, 
 under the Christian dispensation. The great sacrifice 
 of Christ on the Cross, and His perpetual intercession 
 for us in heaven, have obtained, (how we know not,) 
 mercy and grace, pardon and strength, for lost and 
 helpless sinners, which by nature we all are; and 
 further, there is the sacrifice and intercession, to as- 
 sure all who will come, that no past offences shall 
 shut the gates of God's mercy against them, or keep 
 from them that help of the Spirit, without which we 
 cannot do an}" thing that is good. But to look to 
 the Cross, to believe that Christ died for all men, that 
 he died for us, is not salvation. Salvation is not 
 merely pardon. It is holiness, an inward spiritual 
 delivery from the power of sin; a partaking of the 
 divine nature; a restoration to the image of God, in 
 which man was at the first created. " There is no 
 condemnation," says the apostle, " to them which 
 are in Christ Jesus ; who walk, not after the flesh, 
 
THE NECESSITY OF HOLINESS. 195 
 
 but after the Spirit;" that is, those who not only be- 
 lieve in Christ as a Saviour, and trust to His merits 
 for the pardon of sin, but who also follow " holiness, 
 without w^iich no man shall see the Lord." 
 
 Upon the first part of the text it is not now neces- 
 sary to remark, except perhaps to say, that directing 
 us at the same time to follow peace and holiness, and 
 speaking only of holiness as that without which we 
 cannot enter into heaven, the apostle seems to think, 
 that times may come, when, in following holiness, 
 we shall not be at peace with all men. Men, worldly 
 men, have carelessness about God's truth, and con- 
 formity to the notions and views of the present world : 
 holy men must contend, yes, contend earnestly, for the 
 faith once for all delivered to the Church, and must 
 not love, or be conformed to, the world and the things 
 of the world. The latter clause of the text teaches 
 us the necessity of holiness, in order to future blessed- 
 ness. What is holiness? And why is it, that "with- 
 out holiness no man shall see the Lord?" 
 
 What is meant by holiness in this place ? Certainly 
 not perfect, unsinning obedience to the laws of God ; 
 to such a high state of grace no man has yet attained ; 
 the Scripture itself tells us that "in many things 
 we offend all." But holiness, according to the mea- 
 sure of frail man, is the giving up our will to God's 
 will; the setting our affections chiefly upon God; 
 hating, and forsaking, and constantly striving to 
 avoid, all sin; mortifying, that is, putting to death 
 all corrupt and wrong desires and affections ; cruci- 
 fying "the flesh," "the old man," "the whole body 
 of sin;" in short, striving as mightily to avoid every 
 
196 THE NECESSITY OF HOLINESS. 
 
 thing sinful, and taking as much pains to keep the 
 law of God, as a covetous man takes to get gain and 
 to avoid losses. This is " the true Circumcision of 
 the spirit," "the new creation in Christ Jesus;" 
 this is lioliness. Now if any of us feel that we are 
 not in such a state as this, we may be sure that there 
 is wanting in us that, without which we cannot " see 
 the Lord." Examine yourselves whether you are 
 thus holy. Christians are too apt to rest contented 
 with low views of religion, and with few attainments 
 in holiness. That frailty or sinfulness of our human 
 nature, which should always keep us near Christ, 
 is pleaded too often as an apology for continuing in 
 sin. How often do we hear the inconsistent Christian 
 saying, ''I know that I do not do right; I do not 
 govern my tongue as I ought; I do not keep under 
 my temper as I ought; I do not spend my time right- 
 ly ; I am too worldly I know : but we are frail crea- 
 tures ; God is very merciful ; Christ died for sinners ; 
 salvation is all of grace; I have no merits of my own; I 
 trust entirely to the merits of the Lord Jesus Christ." 
 Persons who talk in this way have wrong notions of 
 the gospel. There is no promise of pardon and 
 mercy to those, who do not strive to become holy. 
 We are frail and weak; but the strength of Christ is 
 made perfect in weakness, and man can do all things 
 through Christ, which strengtheneth him ; he can 
 gain victories, of which he hardly dares to think, over 
 self, sin, and the allurements of the world, if he will 
 only make the effort in the right way. Oh, my 
 friends, never look to the Cross again, if you only 
 look there to get excuses for laziness, and sloth, and 
 
THE NECESSITY OF HOLINESS. 197 
 
 self-indulgence. Every drop of blood which stains 
 it, preaches " holiness to the Lord." And if you are 
 not holy, or are not heartily desirous, earnestly 
 striving, to become so ; that very Cross, which you 
 glory in as your hope, bears above you the sentence 
 of your eternal condemnation. 
 
 But why is it that " without holiness no man shall 
 see the Lord?" That is, shall never be admitted to 
 the presence and fruition of the glorious God-head, 
 in the heaven of heavens. Even if we could give you 
 no reason for this statement of Scripture, it ought to 
 be sufficient for us, that it is the word of the Lord. 
 But there is a reason, and a perfectly satisfactory rea- 
 son, w^hy an unholy man shall not see the Lord, 
 namely, because he cannot enjoy communion or in- 
 tercourse with God. In order to bring out this rea- 
 son more strongly and closely, we must speak of 
 heaven, and of the nature and character of its enjoy- 
 ments and occupations. Many are the wrong no- 
 tions upon this subject, which are entertained among 
 men. Some think of it merely as a beautiful and 
 delightful place, where we shall have every thing 
 that we wish, and where sorrow and want can never 
 come. True it is, that there the heart will have all 
 that it can want; it will be perfectly satisfied. But 
 heaven should chiefly be viewed as a place of holi- 
 ness; "there shall in no wise enter into it any thing 
 that defileth." There God's will is perfectly done, 
 for all there delight to do it; all that they wish is to 
 will as God wills. The will of a saint in light can 
 no more be different from God's will, than an echo 
 can be diff"erent from the sound which it repeats. 
 
198 THE NECESSITY OF HOLINESS. 
 
 There, too, praise and thanksgiving make the chief 
 part of the employment of the inhabitants of heaven. 
 The hymns of praise to the blessed Trinity, which 
 were beo-un when the mornino- stars and all the 
 sons of God shouted for joy, and which we now re- 
 peat in the Church on earth, will be continued to all 
 eternity. All angels and saints in heaven perfectly 
 love God, and therefore they cease not singing prais- 
 es and giving thanks, saying, "blessing, and honour, 
 and glory, and power, be unto Him that sitteth upon 
 the throne, and to the Lamb forever and ever." Such 
 is heaven ; and such are its employments. No place 
 will it be for earthly delights and sensual plea- 
 sures; God will be all in all. Now can we suppose 
 that an unholy man would be happy in such a place ? 
 How is it with worldly minded men when they go 
 to Church? And the Church is like heaven in one re- 
 spect, namely, because God alone is spoken of there, 
 and because prayers and praises are continually of- 
 fered to Him. Are wicked or worldly men glad 
 when it is said unto them, "let us go into the house 
 of the Lord?" No: and if custom or any other mo- 
 tive bring them there, they sit restless and uneasy, 
 and are all the time wishinor that the service mio^ht be 
 over. They wonder at the high words which burn 
 on the lips of the faithful ; they shrink from the least 
 appearance of prayer and devotion; and unless the 
 preacher be peculiarly gifted and eloquent, after lis- 
 tening to the first few sentences of his sermon, they 
 either give themselves up to slumber, or to meditate 
 schemes of business or amusement, nay, even plans 
 of wickedness. Is there not, my brethren, every rea- 
 
THE NECESSITY OF HOLINESS. 109 
 
 son to believe that unholy men would find heaven as 
 vreary and disgusting a place as the Church? Im- 
 agine for a moment, (if such a thing can possibly be 
 even imagined,) a worldly, selfish, polluted man placed 
 in God's presence. Think you that he would enjoy 
 communion with a being of infinite purity? Think 
 you that he could engage in the service of Him, whom 
 he did not love? How wearisome to that man would 
 be the ceaseless songs of praise ! How awfully lone- 
 ly his condition, even in the courts of the Redeemer! 
 He could not approach his Maker! and he would 
 shrink away from the company of the good and vir- 
 tuous. It has been well said, that God could not in- 
 flict a greater punishment upon a sinner than to 
 summon him to heaven. 
 
 We think that all will admit the reasonableness of 
 the saying, that " without holiness no man shall see 
 the Lord." We think that all will see, that it would 
 be utterly impossible for an unholy man to enjoy him- 
 self in heaven. Far more could a rude untutored sav- 
 age feci happy in the society of the learned and re- 
 fined, than the unclean and the selfish find pleasure 
 in the communion of saints and the presence of God. 
 
 My brethren, do you want to know, whether you 
 have been indeed washed from your sins in the blood 
 of Christ, and are prepared for heaven ? Are you 
 holy? Are you new creatures in Christ Jesus? Do 
 you walk after the Spirit? These are the best proofs 
 of readiness for death, and the day of judgment. We 
 are not perfect ; there is no man that liveth, and sin- 
 neth not. But is holiness the great bent of the soul? 
 Do we desire, struggle, strive to be holy ? If so, it is 
 
200 THE NECESSITY OF HOLINESS. 
 
 well with our souls : if not, no inward expression of 
 joy, no assurances of pardon, no hopes are worth any- 
 thing. Rest not contented then with any assurance 
 short of holiness, of an inward experience of the pu- 
 rifying and sin-subduing power of faith. Christ died 
 for you, that you might be holy. If you want hope 
 and peace, and comfort in religion — be holy. We 
 preach indeed, remission of sins through the blood 
 of Christ, and justification solely on account of 
 Christ's merit : but woe to us, when we preach not 
 with these glorious truths ; woe to you, when you re- 
 ceive not with these glorious truths ; that other truth, 
 proclaimed by the thunders of Sinai, signified by the 
 sacrifices of the law, witnessed by the long line of 
 prophets, and written in the blood of Jesus Christ, 
 " without holiness no man shall see the Lord." 
 
 The subject, the necessity of holiness for future 
 blessedness, suggests to us a sad reflection, and a 
 necessary caution. If it indeed be true, that holiness 
 is necessary to salvation; how few there are, who will 
 see God face to face, and be satisfied in His presence 
 forever. There are, perhaps, some in these walls, 
 who bend the knee to Jesus, and take His Body and 
 Blood, who are yet in their sins ! Is it an uncharit- 
 able suggestion ? Let the bitterness and strife, and 
 envy and evil speaking, which may be found among 
 us, answer this question. God forbid, that we should 
 judge any man's heart. But holiness is a very differ- 
 ent thinof from worldliness: and if a Christian mur- 
 murs, and envies, and hates, and slanders, like an 
 open worldling, even charity will hardly dare to hope 
 that he is ready to see the Lord. Christ Jesus dwells 
 
THE NECESSITY OF HOLINESS. 201 
 
 in you, Christian friends, if ye be not reprobate ; and 
 surely, we can no more think, that Christ inhabits a 
 worldly, covetous, envious heart; than we can sup- 
 pose, that the dark, frozen caverns of northern climes, 
 are cheered by the beams of the sun. And as we 
 move among neighbours and friends; and see Chris- 
 tians engrossed with worldly things, leading light and 
 trifling lives, speaking evil of, and envying, and dis- 
 liking their brethren; and yet, all the while, dream- 
 ing that they are clinging to the Cross of Christ; we 
 tremble for ourselves and for each other, when we re- 
 member that it is written, " without holiness no man 
 shall see the Lord." 
 
 But we must be careful in preaching the necessity 
 of sanctification, lest we make the heart of the right- 
 eous sad, ''whom God hath not made sad;" above 
 all, lest we keep from Christ some of those trembling 
 contrite ones, whom, of all others, He would have to 
 come to Him. " I am not good enough," is the fre- 
 quent answer of penitents to the ministers of Christ, 
 who urge them to come to the means of grace. But 
 the necessity of holiness is the strongest reason, why 
 they should come. We do not use the means of grace, 
 because we are holy ; but because we desire to be. A 
 sincere, and hearty desire for holiness, is the only 
 moral qualification required in those, who come for 
 the blessings of the Gospel. The fountains of refresh- 
 ment in the Church of God, are for the thirsty ; the 
 bread of life, is for the hungry. If you thirst, come; 
 if you hunger, come; Christ rejects not the needy, 
 and the wretched, who seek His aid. It is to those, 
 who hug their sins, and love their shame, to whom 
 
 26 
 
202 THE NECESSITY OF HOLINESS. 
 
 He says in the language of compassionate reproof, 
 "Ye will not come to me, that ye might have life." 
 "Without holiness, no man shall see the Lord." 
 Without Christ, man can do nothing that is good. 
 Therefore, let all, who desire holiness, and the un- 
 speakable blessedness, which it brings to its posses- 
 sor here and hereafter, come at once, in all the 
 means of grace, to our Lord and Saviour, Jesus 
 Christ. 
 
SERMON XVII. 
 
 THE CHILDREN OF GOD MUST COME OUT FROM THE 
 
 WORLD. 
 
 [After the ministering of confirmation.] 
 
 Wherefore come out from among them, and be ye separate, 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 my sons and daugh- 
 ters, saith the Lord Almighty. 
 
 2 Corinthians, vi, 17, 18. 
 
 The Apostle St. Paul addressed these words to the 
 first Christians; and the same message was origi- 
 nally sent to the Jewish people, in various places of 
 the Old Testament. The subject, which they na- 
 turally bring before us, is one which requires to be 
 treated with judgment and discretion ; because there 
 have been so many dangerous opinions about it, in 
 all ages of the Church. We need hardly say here, 
 that the text exhorts Christians to be separate from 
 the world. Upon the degree of separation to be ob- 
 served, there have been extreme views among good 
 men; as indeed there even now are. A desire to 
 conform to the spirit of this, and other like precepts 
 of the Bible, has in times past sent many a faithful 
 Christian to the monastery, or to the seclusion of the 
 Eastern solitudes; and has kept many a saint, per- 
 haps, from being useful to his fellows, through fear 
 of the temptations of the world. And yet, while we 
 
204 THE CHILDREN OF GOD 
 
 admit that this course of life, and the views whicli 
 lead to it, are in most cases wrong; as candid 
 readers of the Scriptures, we shall likewise be bound 
 to admit, that they warn us against a conformity to 
 the notions, and opinions,' and customs of the world, 
 as something which is utterly inconsistent with the 
 character of a Christian. How far then we are, as 
 disciples of Christ, bound to separate from what is 
 called the world, becomes a most important question 
 to us all. Especially does it concern those, who, in 
 the morning of life, have so lately renounced the 
 pomp, and vanities of the world, in the Apostolic rite 
 of confirmation; and renewed that renunciation, in 
 partaking of the body and blood of Christ. For, 
 though now their love to Christ seems deep and 
 earnest, and their interest in divine things strong; yet 
 the time may come, when this present world shall 
 asrain seem more attractive, more desirable, than the 
 love and favour of Almighty God, How important 
 then it now is for them, for us all, my brethren, tho- 
 roughly to renounce from the heart all that love of 
 the world, which cannot occupy the heart, with the 
 love of the Father. May the Holy Spirit bless our 
 present meditations, and enable each one of us to 
 give up every thing contrary to our Christian pro- 
 fession. 
 
 The text contains a command and a -promise. We 
 shall consider them in order. 
 
 And first the command, " come out from among 
 them, and be ye separate, and touch not the unclean 
 thino-." These words first occur in the book of 
 the Prophet Isaiah, being uttered by him to the 
 
MUST COME OUT FROM THE WORLD. 205 
 
 captive Jews in Babylon, How necessary they wera 
 for those men and times, we can all readily perceive; 
 for God's own people were then a remnant in the 
 midst of idolaters, and under every temptation to 
 leave the worship and service of the true God, for 
 that of the gods of the heathen. But God, designing 
 to bring this elect nation back to the Holy City, 
 commanded the prophet to call them out from the 
 idolaters, and to warn them to abstain from every 
 thing that could defile them, and render them unfit to 
 bear the vessels, and to engage in the sacred things, 
 of the sanctuary. In a word, the object of this com- 
 mandment as first given, was to make the Jew^s a pe- 
 culiar people in a foreign land. St. Paul, in our text, 
 gives the words a spiritual application to the Chris- 
 tians of Corinth; and the necessity of such an ex- 
 hortation to them, will be plain to us all, when we 
 consider their situation. Surrounded by idolaters, 
 with, the wealth, tiie wisdom, and the power of the 
 world, arrayed against the cause of Christ; there was 
 every reason, that the early Christians should be 
 called to come out, and be a separate, a peculiar peo- 
 ple. But now the question comes up, whether this 
 commandment is applicable to us, to the Christians 
 of these days? In many respects, our situation is 
 very different from that of the early Christians. We 
 live in a land, where almost all men nominally believe 
 in the religion of Jesus ; and w^here every knee, that 
 is ever bent in prayer, is bent before the Lord Je- 
 hovah ; and w^here outward morality is respected 
 and demanded. But when we have said this, we 
 have, perhaps, said, all that can be said, to mark the 
 
fip 
 
 206 THE CHILDREN OF GOD 
 
 difference between our times and theirs. The spirit 
 of the world is still opposed to the religion of Christ. 
 True it is, that carved images no longer occupy the 
 temples : but still it may be said that idolatry has 
 not ceased from among men. For w^hat is idolatry, 
 but the putting of any thing between the heart and 
 God; the giving of our supreme affections to any 
 beside God ? And is not this the case with a large 
 part of mankind in Christian lands? In how many 
 hearts of the children of men, is money enthroned as 
 a God ! In how many perishing honors, in how 
 many foolish pleasures ! But all such devotion of 
 the heart is utterly contrary to the religion of Christ, 
 which requires a full surrender of the affections to 
 God. "All that is in the world," says the Apostle 
 St. John, " the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, 
 and the pride of life, is not of the Father." And do 
 we not still see pride, sensuality, and avarice, prevail- 
 ing among men, entering into all their pursuits, 
 making up their pleasures, forming the objects of 
 their chief desires ? The perusal of a single news- 
 paper, the mingling in almost any collection of men, 
 a walk in any city — yea, village — and even among 
 the scattered houses of the country, will convince 
 you, that these things are so. Wherever men live for 
 self chiefly, instead of God, there we shall find that 
 world, from which Christians must come out, and be 
 separate, and the unclean things, of which they 
 must not partake. We have not attempted to argue 
 this point, because it does not need it. The true 
 Christian will tell you, that he sees many things in 
 the world opposed to the religion of his Master; the 
 
MUST COME OUT FROAI THE WORLD. 207 
 
 honest man of the world will tell yon, that if he gave 
 himself up to Christ, he should feel bound to give up 
 many things, in which he now indulges, and which 
 are commonly indulged in by men: it is only the 
 lukewarm, the insincere, the inconsistent professor of 
 religion, who will endeavour to convince you, that in 
 these so called Christian lands, Christians are no 
 longer to be, what at the first they were, " a peculiar 
 people." 
 
 "Come out from among them;" is still, Christian 
 friends, the Lord's message to you. But how, and 
 why ? Important questions these, and not lightly to 
 be answered. Christians must come out from the 
 world; but they are not to be morose and austere in 
 their necessary intercourse with worldly minded peo- 
 ple. Indeed, in many cases, friendships and intima- 
 cies have to be preserved with them. But certainly 
 no true Christian will desire to form any unnecessary 
 intimacy, or connection, with a man of the world ; be- 
 cause he cannot, if his heart be true, have much de- 
 light in his society. A Christian loves God ; how 
 can he then find pleasure in the company of those 
 who do not love God. We think him an unnatural 
 son, who associates and is intimate with men, who 
 slight and hate his parents. What shall we think 
 then of the child of God, who looks for his com- 
 panions and intimate friends among those, who, not 
 being the children of God, belong to that other class 
 of persons, termed in holy scripture, "children of the 
 devil." We must not then, in obedience to the call of 
 our Christian profession, form any unnecessary con- 
 nections with unbelievers. In this particular we must 
 come out from among them. 
 
208 THE CHILDREN OF GOD 
 
 Then again, in their necessary intercourse with 
 the world, Christians must be a separate, a peculiar 
 people. We do not mean by this statement to inti- 
 mate, that religious people are to adopt a sour, forbid- 
 ding deportment, when among worldly men; for such 
 a course would injure religion. But as you all know, 
 the Christian in the world often hears vice commend- 
 ed, or lightly spoken of, as no great matter; our re- 
 ligion is scoffed at in his presence, or a neighbour's 
 character is picked to pieces; or subjects are intro- 
 duced, upon which he cannot consistently speak, and 
 in which he cannot have, or ought not to have, any 
 interest. Now, upon such occasions, the Christian 
 is bound to appear "peculiar;" he must show, that 
 what he professes at Church, and in his own house, 
 he professes every where, and at all times. By a 
 marked silence, or by a word fitly spoken, he is 
 bound to prove, before all men, that he is true to his 
 crucified Master, and to himself. If a Christian, 
 whenever he goes into the company of irreligious 
 people, joins with them in their foolish jesting and 
 trifling, and strives to suit his conversation to their 
 tastes and views, he is touching the unclean thing, 
 which he has solemnly promised to renounce; he is 
 bending down to that spirit, against which he has 
 manfully vowed to fight unto his life's end. 
 
 A Christian must also be separate from the world, 
 in his manner of living, and employing his property. 
 Every one has an undoubted right to live according 
 to his income; but his alms and benefactions must 
 also be according to his income. Upon the poor 
 man, who has the fewest comforts, the needy have 
 fewest claims. The rich man, who has the most, is 
 
MUST COME OUT FROM THE WORLD. 209 
 
 also the most indebted to those in want. Now, peo- 
 ple of the world spend their property, chiefly and 
 entirely, upon themselves. The professed Christian 
 feels that he holds property merely as God's trustee, 
 for a few days; and that although he may provide 
 things necessary, and honest, and comfortable, accord- 
 ing to his means and condition, for himself and for 
 his family, yet he is bound to do all that he can with 
 it, for the glory of God, and the good of his fellow 
 men. Nevertheless, professed Christians, when called 
 upon to do more for the poor and the destitute, for 
 the ignorant and irreligious, say that they would 
 gladly do it, but that fashion requires them to live in 
 such a style, that their means of doing good are much 
 narrowed. Now what is fashion, but the opinion of 
 the world ? And what has a Christian to do with that? 
 His account must be given at last to the Lord Jesus; 
 and shall he now live, not to please the Saviour, who 
 loved him and gave Himself for him, but the selfish, 
 sensual, narrow minded people, who call themselves 
 the leaders of fashion ? In conformity to the notions 
 of these people, we please the prince of this world; 
 yea, range ourselves under his very banners. It is 
 from these very people, whom certain Christians live 
 to please, that we are called out to be separate. 
 
 We shall have time at present only to speak of one 
 more way, in which professed Christians are bound 
 to be a separate and peculiar people. They must 
 not engage in worldly amusements; that is, in 
 amusements, which in themselves are calculated to 
 injure one's religious affections, and to excite those pas- 
 sions and desires of the flesh and of the mind, which 
 
210 THE CHILDREN OF GOD 
 
 must be nailed to the Cross, before we can be truly 
 and certainly Christ's. Living, as most of you do, 
 in retirement, you are not now exposed to tempta- 
 tions to join in such amusements ; but in the changes 
 and chances of this changing life, some of you may 
 live in scenes, where you will be surrounded with 
 their fascinations and attractions. Now all will ad- 
 mit that these amusements are calculated to tempt 
 the young heart to delight, for a season ; but all, we 
 are sorry to say, are not prepared to view them as 
 forbidden things to the sworn followers of Christ. 
 We shall therefore endeavour, in a very few words, 
 to show, why Christians should come out from among 
 them, and be separate from them. A Christian pro- 
 fesses to have given his heart to God, to make God 
 his supreme delight; and again he promises to re- 
 ceive, as a rule of life, a book which commands him 
 to pray always. Now can any one, whose supreme 
 delight is in God, find pleasure in scenes, where 
 God's name never is mentioned, except by profane 
 and ungodly lips in the way of profanity? Can one, 
 who prays always, lift up her heart in secret prayer 
 for humility, when she is receiving with delight the 
 gross flattery of worldly friends ? Should a Chris- 
 tian go into any place, where he cannot pray in his 
 heart? May he engage in any thing, upon which he 
 cannot secretly ask God's blessing? Now tell me, 
 who would dare to pray as he entered the walls of a 
 Theatre? Who would lift up his heart in thankful- 
 ness in the merriment of a vt^orldly feast? Who 
 would seek in the ball room for the self-denying 
 spirit of Christ? Or what would be the character of 
 
MUST COME OUT FROM THE WORLD. 211 
 
 the private devotions of a Christian, often spending 
 two thirds of the night amid such scenes? Let us 
 follow him to his closet. The Bible is left unopened. 
 The knee, indeed, is bent. The lips move in a hur- 
 ried manner for a very few moments. While drow- 
 siness, and the remembrances of the follies, and levi- 
 ties, and inconsistencies of the past evening, keep his 
 mind from the lifeless words. Is the picture over- 
 drawn? We believe that no one will say so, who 
 has ever, in this way, attempted to mingle the service 
 of God and this vain world. It is trusted, that these 
 hints and questions will convince us all, that, as pro- 
 fessed Christians, we must separate ourselves from 
 worldly amusements. 
 
 We have thus endeavoured to show how Christians 
 must come out from the world ; and do any ask 7vhy? 
 We answer briefly, for their own sakes; and for the 
 sake of the world, in which they live, the dying world 
 which they should strain every nerve to save. For 
 their own sakes, because they cannot belong both to 
 Christ and the world ; and for the world's sake, be- 
 cause, unless they come out, and take a decided stand 
 on the side of God, as a peculiar and separate people, 
 worldly people will think that religion is nothing; 
 is not worth seeking or having; and so will plunge 
 in the vortex of pleasure, and sink to perdition. 
 
 Thus much for the commandment of the text; let 
 us now consider its promise. And here we may ob- 
 serve the wisdom and beauty of their arrangement. 
 Side by side with an exhortation to renounce the 
 world, we find a promise of privileges and pleasures, 
 so glorious and great, that our minds cannot compre- 
 
21^ THE CHILDREN OF GOD 
 
 hend them. It would seem hard to command us to 
 ' leave the pleasures of this world, and to offer us none 
 in their place. But God does not so deal with His 
 people whom He loves. " Come out from among 
 them," He saith, " and I will receive you, and will 
 be a Father unto you, and ye shall be my sons and 
 daughters." We may observe, that this 'promise en- 
 courages us to renounce the world for God. We by no 
 means deny, that the world possesses many attrac- 
 tions for those of us who are yet young; and, as we 
 all know, every human heart desires happiness, as 
 that which is supremely good. Now that the happi- 
 ness, to be so gained from the world, is very imperfect 
 and unsatisfactory, they will tell you, who have run 
 the round of all its painted follies : and to lead us to 
 forsake perishing pleasures for the fulness of ever- 
 lasting joy, God promises to be our Father, if we 
 will forsake the service of the world for Him. And 
 do you not think that He, who made us, knows best 
 what will make us happy ? Do you believe that God 
 would command us to do any thing contrary to our 
 lasting happiness ? Do you not feel convinced that 
 He, who made all things, who hung the heavens with 
 stars, and wrapped our earth in a mantle of beauty, 
 and fills all things living with plenteousness, is able 
 to make you supremely, and perfectly, and eternally 
 happy? " Thou hast made us for Thyself," said St. 
 Augustine, ''and our heart is restless until itresteth 
 in Thee." This is the confession of a man of genius, 
 and taste, and refinement, who sought for happiness 
 in siensual pleasures, and in the pursuits of literature, 
 and the speculations of philosophy ; and found it 
 
MUST COME OUT FROM THE WORLD. 213 
 
 only in the sincere devotion of his heart to Almighty 
 God. The heart is indeed made for God ; and none 
 but God can fill it. It may have the dearest friends, 
 and the highest honors, and the greatest riches, to 
 meet its longings ; but it w^ill ache v^hile it is away 
 from God. Oh, be persuaded by these thoughts to 
 give up every thing for God, to make God the great 
 object of your pursuit, in the uncertainties of life ; 
 and then, in the abiding realities of eternity, He 
 will be your everlasting portion. 
 
 We observe also, that 7ve cannot have the promise, 
 unless we fulfil the condition upon which it is made; 
 if we would have God for our Father, we must 
 come out from the world. And the reason that so 
 many Christians a,re spiritually dead, who once seemed 
 to live ! and that others have no joy and peace in be- 
 lieving is, that they take hold of the cross and look 
 back upon the world. But how foolish it is to call 
 ourselves the children of God, if we will not give up 
 the love of the world, if we will not come out and be 
 a peculiar people. How terrible it is to call God our 
 Father, with devices and affections in our hearts, 
 which will draw down the withering answer, " I 
 know you not, depart from me." And now, my 
 friends, ask yourselves this question, naturally sug- 
 gested by our subject, Am I willing to give up the 
 world for God ? If ijou are not ; for the sake of reli- 
 gion; for the sake of souls who may perish through 
 your inconsistency ; we beseech you to leave the 
 ranks of Christian men ; and to act as you think and 
 feel. If you are not willing to give up the world for 
 God — but the thought is too dreadful to be pursued. 
 
214 THE CHILDREN OF GOD 
 
 All the generations of men have wondered, that 
 '* Esau sold his birthright for a morsel of meat;" but 
 that any intelligent being should sell the everlasting 
 favor of Almighty God, and the joys that He can 
 bestow, for all the delights that this earth can give, 
 may well fill the hearts of the redeemed with endless 
 amazement. But if you are willing to come out 
 from the world, and to be separate, and to touch not 
 the unclean thing, then God will receive you for his 
 child, and will be your Father forever. Mortal words 
 cannot describe — mortal hearts cannot conceive, your 
 blessedness. 
 
SERMON XVin. 
 
 THE SINNER ALIVE WITHOUT THE LAW. 
 
 For I was alive without the Law once. 
 
 Romans, vii. 9, first clause. 
 
 In the chapter from which our text is taken, the 
 Apostle St. Paul shows the inefficacy of the Law of 
 Moses, or the Law of Nature, for the sanctification of 
 man ; and in the course of his argument, he describes 
 the state, feelings, and struggles of a man, who first 
 being ignorant of the law, afterwards comes to the 
 knowledge of its obligations, the extent of its claims, 
 and its demands ; and then, with a sincere desire to 
 do God's will, and with a delight in, and approval of. 
 His law, finds to his sorrow, and shame, and disap- 
 pointment, that he cannot, in and of himself, keep the 
 law; and lastly discovers in the Gospel of Jesus 
 Christ, the way of a full, free pardon or justification ; 
 and that even greater blessing, the way of holiness; 
 the ability to keep the law of God. The condition of 
 a man ignorant of the law, will have our attention this 
 morning. 
 
 '' For I was alive without the law once." These 
 words suggest two inquiries. What is it, to be "with- 
 out the Law?" and then, what is meant by being 
 "alive without the Law?" 
 
 To be without the law, does not mean to be without 
 some rule of life ; for v/ithout some such rule, or 
 
216 THE SINNER ALIVE WITHOUT THE LAW. 
 
 some glimmering notions of some such rule, no na- 
 tion in the world ever was. Long before the Mosaic 
 Law was given upon Sinai, the nations of the earth 
 knew the duties, that they owed to the Lord their 
 God, and to each other. If this had not been the case, 
 surely the all just God never would have punished 
 any man for sin ; the waters of the flood never would 
 have covered the earth ; and Sodom and Gomorrah 
 would have slowly decayed in the lapse of ages. But 
 St. Paul puts the question at rest, when he tells us, 
 that *' the Gentiles, when they do by nature the 
 things contained in the law, are a law unto them- 
 selves ;" plainly intimating, that, by the light of na- . 
 ture, they may know the moral duties contained in ' 
 the law of Moses. Can v/e suppose, that God would 
 leave intelligent, moral, accountable beings without 
 some guide to moral duties; some warning voice, 
 within or without, to keep them from the miseries, 
 the bitter consequences, and dreadful penalties, tem- 
 poral and eternal, of sin? If most of the nations of 
 the earth have been left without a rule of right, how 
 then shall they be judged? Surely, God never will 
 condemn, in justice could not condemn, those who 
 had no means of ever knowing their duty. We by 
 no means contend, that the law, as existing among 
 heathen nations, is in itself sufficient to make them 
 holy, and to restrain them from corruption; by it 
 they never can be justified, for they cannot perfectly 
 keep it ; through it they can never be sanctified, for 
 it offers none of those helps and aids offered and given 
 freely to the members of Christ. It is but a single 
 star breakincr through the blackness of darkness, 
 

 THE SINNER ALIVE WITHOUT THE LAW. 217 
 
 giving first light enough to the wretched Pagan, to 
 show him that there is a heaven, and now and then 
 flashing a few uncertain rajs upon a path, which 
 seems to lead to it. Alas ! it only gives light enough 
 to leave the poor wretch, who marks it, without excuse 
 before God. We should not have entered at all upon 
 this subject, had it not been necessary to glance at it, 
 in order to show, that to be "without the law," in 
 what we believe to be the Apostle's sense, is the 
 state of some, who Sunday after Sunday hear it pro- 
 claimed from the altar, and who can daily read it in 
 their Bibles. We believe that, in the sense of having 
 no law, no rule for a guide of life, man never was 
 '* without the lawP As each order of things in the 
 universe has its law which it obeys ; as our bodies 
 have laws which they obey : so we believe that the 
 soul, the moral and spiritual part of man, has its law, 
 which, by its existence, it is bound to obey forever. 
 There is no material thing in the wide world without 
 its law : and was man, immortal man, more capable 
 of knowing, loving, and obeying his great and holy 
 Creator, ever left without a guide to the mode of 
 pleasing and serving his Creator ? Either we have 
 altoorether mistaken our nature; or reason and revela- 
 tion alike declare against such a notion. 
 
 But to be ''without the law," means to be ignorant 
 of the obligation and penalty, but chiefly of the ex- 
 tent of the law's claims and demands upon men. 
 And by the law here, it is necessary to remark, that 
 we mean, not merely the letter of the moral law of 
 Moses, but the whole rule of our duty to God and our 
 neighbour, as contained in all the inspired writings. 
 
218 THE SINNER ALIVE WITHOUT THE LAW. 
 
 Some men then are " without the law," because 
 they are ignorant of its obligations; and by ignorance 
 we do not so much mean a mere want of knowledge 
 of the existence of the letter of the law, as the want 
 of a practical, realizing, abiding sense of its obliga- 
 tory character. Such an ignorance, certainly, is not 
 found among the great part of the people in Chris- 
 tian lands; yet there are those, who seem to have no 
 idea of their responsibility to God, who seem to 
 think that they were called into being, not to live to 
 the glory of God, but simply to please themselves, 
 and to enjoy life in the best manner they can. Now, 
 if the word of God be true ; if it be true that all things 
 were made for God's glory ; if it be true that man is 
 bound, with his soul and body, with his time and 
 talents, gifts and acquirements, to glorify God; then 
 may these self-pleasers, and self-seekers, be said to be 
 '' without the law;" since they have no proper notion 
 of the law of their being ; of that great rule, which 
 assigns them their place and their duties in the crea- 
 tion. And here we may well pause, and ask you, 
 whether, in this sense, any of you are " without the 
 law?" Have any of you the notion that, provided 
 you do not oifend against the laws of the land, you 
 may live as you please ? Are any of you without 
 the abiding persuasion, that you were placed in this 
 world, and have health, and strength, and time, and 
 talents given you to serve your Maker; that you 
 are accountable to Him for all your actions, for the 
 employment of every moment of your time, and 
 every portion of your property? Then indeed are 
 you without the law; you are here, dying man. 
 
THE SINNER ALIVE WITHOUT THE LAW. , 219 
 
 hurrying into unlmown scenes; sent on earth ap- 
 parently without an aim or an object; Uving and 
 dying like the beasts that perish. What a senseless 
 and foolish notion of his own being must that man 
 have, who lives "without the law." 
 
 Again, to be without the law means chiefly, to be 
 without a proper notion of the extent of the claims 
 and demands of the law ; of what is commonly called, 
 the spirituality of the law. And in this sense, all 
 persons, who have not been renewed by the Spirit of 
 God, or who have not been convicted of sin by tho 
 same Spirit, are without the law. This class in- 
 cl udes a large part of the population of every land in 
 Christendom ; perhaps some such may be found in 
 the ranks of professors of religion; yes, and even 
 among the ministers of God. These persons have a 
 general notion of owing certain duties to God; such 
 as prayer, observance of the Lord's day, an outward 
 obedience to the Ten Commandments, and such like. 
 But the Law requires much more than this ; it re- 
 quires supreme love to God; the entire devotion of 
 self to Him; truth in the inward parts; inward 
 purity and rectitude; and the government of the 
 thoughts and passions. It requires right motives, 
 as well as right acts ; clean hearts, as well as un- 
 stained hands. It requires us, whatever we do, 
 ''whether we eat or drink," to "do all to the glory of 
 God." It is in vain to shrink from, or to shut our 
 eyes against, these views; they are clearly and con- 
 stantly brought out in the teachings of our blessed 
 Saviour. Indeed we believe that every intelligent 
 reader of the Scriptures, whatever may be his prac- 
 
2-20 THE SINNER ALIVE WITHOUT THE LAW. 
 
 tice, will tell you that they are Scriptural And if 
 such be the demands of the Law upon man, will any 
 of you deny that a large part of mankind, of those 
 who dwell under the shadow of the Cross, are ''with- 
 out the law;" that is, have never had the law, in the 
 spirituality of its demands, brought home to their 
 consciences ? Does that professor of religion know 
 the spirituality of the law, who spends his time in 
 pleasure, employs his income wholly in selfish pur- 
 poses, or does good to be seen of men, and indulges 
 his evil temper; and yet all the while thinks himself 
 a good Christian, because he comes to the Commu- 
 nion, and does not outwardly violate the moral code. 
 Is not that man "without the law," who feels safe, 
 and at ease and peace, and hopes to go to heaven, 
 because he never committed murder, or theft, or 
 adultery; and yet who has no love to God in his soul, 
 no love to his fellow men? Thus we have ascer- 
 tained, that the expression, "without the law," means 
 to have no clear knowledge of what the law requires 
 of us, of the whole duty of man to his Creator. 
 
 We are now prepared to take up the other phrase, 
 "I was alive." — "I was alive without the law once." 
 This is, at first sight, a hard saying ; but a little con- 
 sideration will soon do away the difficulty. Some 
 writers understand the Apostle simply to say, I was 
 once living without, that is, ignorant of the law. 
 But the last part of the verse forbids us to give a 
 literal interpretation to the first: "but when the 
 commandment came, sin revived, and I died." You 
 will all now see plainly, that the expression, "I was 
 alive," cannot have a literal meaning; for if you in- 
 
•THE SINNER ALIVE WITHOUT THE LAW. 221 
 
 terpret it literally, then you mnst also give a literal 
 interpretation to the words, "v/hen the command- 
 ment came — I died." Thus making it appear, that 
 the man, Avhom the Apostle describes, actually died, 
 as soon as he was made acquainted with the law and 
 its claims. This interpretation cannot stand for a 
 moment. The words, " I was alive," are then un- 
 doubtedly figurative; and the best interpretation of 
 them, that I have met with, is this — I was living in 
 a state of self-complacency, from ignorance of my real 
 state and character. Life and death are thus often 
 used in Scripture to describe states of happiness or 
 misery. Thus "to be carnally minded," is said to be 
 "death;" and "to be spiritually minded," "life;" and 
 the punishment of the wicked is called " the second 
 death;" or sometimes simply "death." We think 
 that this explanation makes the whole passage per- 
 fectly plain. 
 
 A man without the law is "alive," that is to say, 
 pleased with himself; is careless and at ease, because 
 he is ignorant of the sinfulness of his own heart and 
 life. The law of God is the mirror in which man 
 beholds his moral nature. Without the law, ignorant 
 of its claims ; if the world goes well with us ; if health, 
 and strength, and plenty fall to our lot; if a sense of 
 decency, or the fear of human laws, or the absence of 
 strong temptations, keep us from open and gross vio- 
 lations of the law; we are apt to think that we are 
 very good sort of persons. We have no notion that 
 pride is sinful ; that waste of time is sinful ; that anger 
 is sinful; that selfishness, evil speaking and worldly- 
 mindedness are sinful. We never think that we are 
 murderers, because we hate our brother; or adulterers, 
 
222 THE SINNER ALIVE WITHOUT THE LAW. 
 
 because our hearts go astray. We know not that we 
 are guilty before God, because we do not love Him su- i 
 premely ; or do not visit, and comfort, and relieve the 
 needy, and distressed, and afflicted. We are pleased 
 with ourselves, because we do not know ourselves. 
 We think that the heart is pure, because we have 
 searched it in the dark. We have never taken the 
 lamp of God's word, and descended into its depths, and 
 beheld the unclean things that make it filthy and 
 abominable. This is the reason that so many sinners 
 are at ease; that some death-couches even are not 
 strewed with the thorns of remorse. With the excep- 
 tion of those, who have sinned against warnings and 
 convictions for a long time, the greater portion of irre- 
 ligious people are "alive without the law;" they are 
 self-satisfied and self-approved, because they are fear- 
 fully ignorant of what God requires at our hands. 
 
 The man "without the law" is also "alive," that 
 is, at ease, and without fear; because he sees not that 
 he is exposed to the penalty of the law. Of course, 
 ignorant of the true nature of the law, he is also ig- 
 norant that he has broken it, and so has come under 
 the curse denounced against those, who omit to fulfil 
 its every jot and tittle. And so he walks along the 
 journey of life, happy, and contented, and peaceful ; 
 enjoying the good things that surround him, under a 
 sentence of everlasting condemnation. These illus- 
 trations will suffice to show us, what is meant by the 
 expression "I was alive." In fine, every one, w^ho is 
 in the peace of ignorance, who is going about " to es- 
 tablish his own righteousness," who expects justifi- 
 cation in virtue of his own merits, who thinks that 
 he can be holy in his own strength, is "alive without 
 
THE SINNER ALIVE WITHOUT THE LAW. 223 
 
 the law." He, who truly knows the law, knows that 
 it can condemn, but cannot acquit; knows that it can 
 point out sin, but cannot deliver from its bondage ; 
 can show what is right, but gives no power to do it. 
 And were it not for our Lord Jesus Christ, our 
 riofhteousness and strength ; once knowing the law, 
 we should die forever. 
 
 My friends, there are some of us, who, looking 
 back at our past lives, can say with the Apostle, "I 
 was alive without the law once." We remember 
 the sunny days of our youtii, when we were free 
 from a sense of sin, when we looked coldly on the 
 Cross of Christ, and thought perhaps that, if we were 
 called upon to die, our souls would flee away like 
 unchained birds, and escape to the raptures and joys 
 of paradise. But the commandment came and showed 
 us our sins. And now, as we turn a longing eye upon 
 the joys of our youth, we see sin — sin written in dark 
 characters upon them all. We see sin in our pee- 
 vishness under restraint; in unkind words to brothers, 
 sisters and playmates ; in our wasted school hours, and 
 our disobedience to teachers. Yes, and on how many 
 scenes of mirth and merriment, which we once ex- 
 pected to cherish forever, as green spots in life's de- 
 sert, do we see the same dreadful inscription, sin, 
 sin! We read now in many pages of our past his- 
 tory, gratified vanity, instead of good nature ; and sel- 
 fishness, in the place of generosity ; 'pride, instead of a 
 desire to do our duty. Till the period of our conver- 
 sion to God, every hour of our by-gone days, is dark- 
 ened with sin. But oh! how much better is it to 
 feel the bitterness of conviction, and the anguish of 
 
224 THE SINNER ALIVE WLTHOUT THE LAW. 
 
 repentance, than to be "alive without the law;" to 
 go about pleased with ourselves, when the wrath of 
 the Holy one is kindled against us; to think that we 
 are prepared for heaven, when we are hurrying down 
 to perdition. 
 
 And are there not some of my hearers wlio are 
 now alive without the laiv? Do we not speak to some 
 who have never had any sense of sin, and who know 
 nothing of the claims and demands of the just laws 
 of their Maker? Oh! it must be so, or there would 
 not be so many at ease in a state of rebellion; at 
 peace, in serving self supremely, and forgetting God. 
 You are alive now my friends; you are gay and hap- 
 py; you have no fear ; you feel perfectly secure. But 
 yours is the security of a man sleeping on the edge 
 of a precipice; yours is the gaityof the maniac, that 
 for a while has forgotten his misery. We beseech 
 you to seek to know God's law, in all its length, and 
 breadth, and depth ; and when you have acquired that 
 knowledge, you will see the sinfulness of your past 
 lives; when you have endeavoured, in your own 
 strength, to keep the law, you will be convinced of 
 the corruption of your heart; yon will find, that when 
 you had "a name to live," 3^ou were dead. How 
 comfortless we should leave you, were we not en- 
 trusted with the preaching of this simple and won- 
 derful truth : " Christ Jesus is made unto us wis- 
 dom, and righteousness, and sanctification, and re- 
 demption." His blood can cleanse you from all sin; 
 His Spirit can renew your corrupt heart. Make 
 yourselves acquainted with the claims of the law, 
 and the law will bring you to Christ; and Christ rvill 
 save every one that believeth in Him. 
 
SERMON XIX. 
 
 LEAVING THE FIRST LOVE. 
 
 Nevertheless I have somewhat against thee, because thou hast left 
 
 thy first love. Remember therefore from whence thou art fallen ; 
 
 and repent and do the first works ; or else I will come unto thee 
 
 quickly, and will remove thy candlestick out of his place, except 
 
 thou repent. 
 
 Revelations ii. 4, 5. 
 
 The Saviour is described in the first verse of this 
 chapter, as walking in the midst of the seven candle- 
 sticks; which means, that He went up and down 
 among the seven Churches of Asia, overseeing their 
 Bishops, Clergy and members, and ministering to the 
 spiritual wants and necessities of the several flocks. 
 And if the Lord performed this office for these 
 Churches, w^e have every reason to believe that He 
 walks in the midst of all the other branches of the 
 Catholic Church, wherever planted. We have 
 every reason to believe that He is in our midst, 
 searching all our hearts, trying our motives, and 
 watching our progress in religion. And what mes- 
 sage think you, my brethren, that He would address 
 to us, should He send an inspired messenger within 
 our lands? On whom would He repose, if He 
 should suddenly appear before us, when we were 
 kneeling around this altar? Ah, who of us would 
 go away unreproved? Well would it be for us all, 
 
 29 
 
226 LEAVING THE FIRST LOVE. 
 
 many inconsistencies wonld it prevent, many heart- 
 burnings would it allay, many quarrels would it heal, 
 could we ever keep in mind, that our Lord is pre- 
 sent with His Church, noting narrowly the conduct 
 of every member. And against how many of us has 
 He "some what"! How much does he see to offend 
 Him in those, who profess to love Him with all their 
 heart. He charges one with worldly mindedness, 
 and with the want of brotherly love ; another with 
 evil speaking and slander. He says to one, " thou 
 professest to love me and to value my gospel, and yet 
 thou dost nothing to send it to those who have it 
 not;" and to another, "thou mockest me with thy 
 love, for thou lovest not thy brother, thou forgivest 
 not him who offendeth against thee." My brethren, 
 let us judge ourselves: to whom of us would he 
 say in the words first addressed to the Church of 
 Ephesus: "I have some what against thee because 
 thou hast left thy first love?" 
 
 But this reminds us of our text, which brings to 
 our notice, our Lord's complaint against the Ephe- 
 sian Church ; the means of destruction suggested ; 
 and the punishment threatened. May the Lord 
 bring this message home to the hearts of all, whose 
 spiritual state is decaying. 
 
 Our Saviour having commended the Ephesian 
 Church for patience, for zeal against false prophets 
 and heretics, adds to His commendation this rea- 
 sonable complaint, " nevertheless, I have somewhat 
 against thee, because thou hast left thy first love." 
 The reflections that these words awaken are sad in 
 the extreme. The Church, in which St. Paul once 
 
LEAVING THE FIRST LOVE. 227 
 
 resided, and to which he addressed an epistle in 
 which no censure occurs ; the Church, over which 
 Timothy exercised the office of a Bishop; soon after 
 this great Apostle had gone to his crown, and while 
 his instructions were fresh in its remembrance, had 
 left its "first love." Even while the beloved dis- 
 ciple dwelt in its midst, preached in its pulpits, and 
 ministered at its altars ; even while with tremblinof 
 lips he exhorted members to "love one another;" it 
 had declined in spirituality and piety. How frail 
 and unstable is man ! how little does he improve un- 
 der the greatest opportunities ! how soon his glory 
 decays ! " It is the man of God who is disobedient 
 to the word of the Lord." He, whom God exalted 
 from the sheep-fold to the throne of Israel, becomes 
 an adulterer and a murderer. Solomon, in all the 
 glory of heaven-sent wisdom, bows down to idols, and 
 becomes the slave of lust. Churches planted by 
 Apostles themselves, in a few years after they had 
 known the truth as it is in Jesus, leave their first 
 love, and become withered branches in the living 
 vine; they cease to bear fruit, and the Father taketh 
 them away. 
 
 The Church of Ephesus, at the time our Lord ad- 
 dressed to it the epistle in the Revelations, was not in 
 a state of apostacy. Still there was found in it great 
 zeal for apostolic order, and evangelical truths, and 
 purity of living; it was decaying, however, in that 
 which is better than faith, and knowledge, and zeal; 
 it had left its " first love." It no longer loved Christ, 
 as it had in the first days of its knowledge of His 
 gospel ; and consequently there was no longer the 
 
228 LEAVING THE FIRST LOVE. 
 
 same desire and effort to extend the glad tidings of 
 salvation to those who had never heard them. It 
 was still a decent, regular, orderly Church in exter- 
 nals ; but the outward forms were losing the inward 
 spirit ; for no Church fails first in its outward ob- 
 servances: indeed these continue long after it has 
 only "a name to live." Now this is a state, into which 
 national Churches, families, and individuals, are too 
 apt to fall. We see congregations, for instance, slowly 
 declining, after flourishing for a number of years. 
 In such an one brotherly love fails between its mem- 
 bers. The seasons of public worship are less nu- 
 merous than formerly, and but little improved. The 
 Sunday School is neglected, and dwindles away. 
 Parochial plans for doing good, which once excited 
 great interest, are almost disused. Outward decency 
 remains, but it is the decency of death. And thus 
 too with the individual. There was a time when 
 for him "to live" w^as "Christ;" prayer, public and pri- 
 vate, religious reading, and conversation with pious 
 friends, made up his chiefest pleasures. But he has 
 left his "first love." Jesus is still in his heart; but 
 some created being, has approached too near the 
 Saviour's throne, and seems about to occupy it. 
 The closet and the Church are dull places now; 
 though he seeks them at the stated times. He does 
 something for the cause of Christ ; but he does it of 
 necessity, to keep up appearances. Ah, is it strange 
 that to such a disciple Jesus sends the message, " I 
 have somewhat against thee, because thou has left 
 thy first love ?" Brethren, does the description suit 
 any of us, or does it not? If our hearts condemn us 
 
LEAVING THE FIRST LOVE. 229 
 
 not, and if we have increased in love to Jesus; still, 
 remembering the declination, the fatal declination, 
 of the Church of Ephesus, it becometh us not to be 
 " high minded, but to fear." 
 
 But the state of the Ephesian Church was not, at 
 that time, desperate; and, therefore, our blessed Lord 
 sets before them the means of restoration : " Remem- 
 ber, therefore, from whence thou art fallen; and re- 
 pent, and do thy first works." The remembrance 
 of privileges and blessings, which we have once en- 
 joyed, and now forfeited, is often the instrument used 
 by God to lead men to repentance and newness of 
 life. Thus it was with the prodigal son. It was 
 the imaa^e of his father's house aboundino^ in com- 
 forts and delights, that gave him resolution to arise, 
 and go to his father. Often the thought of better 
 days comes over the apparently abandoned sinner; 
 and as he looketh back upon the home of his child- 
 hood, the instructions and admonitions of his pious 
 parents; as he remembereth the still evening hour, 
 when he followed his mother's voice in prayer and 
 praise; he takes the first step in his heavenward 
 journey; humbled and convicted, for the first time, 
 for long years, he bends his trembling knees, and 
 in broken accents, pours out his soul to God. And 
 it should seem, that the recalling of privileges and 
 joys, would have a similar effect upon the decayed 
 Church, or the fallen Christian. We think, if the 
 Churches of Greece, or Italy, could have their atten- 
 tion drawn to their elder days, when Paul's voice 
 was lifted up among them; when their faith was 
 spoken of throughout the world, and they gave of 
 
230 LEAVING THE FIRST LOVE. 
 
 their gold, and their silver, and their lands, in God's 
 cause; that they would renounce their grovelling su- 
 perstitions, and their dangerous additions to the true 
 Catholic faith, and go back to the pure truths, simple 
 observances, and noble piety of Apostolic times. We 
 have sometimes thought, that even cruel Rome, the 
 mother of abominations, "drunken with the blood of 
 the saints " of the Most High, should rather be ex- 
 horted to remember whence she had fallen ; than to be 
 addressed in the language of stern denunciation, used 
 and approved by some, who strive to catch the spirit, 
 and adopt the views, of our great Reformers. At 
 any rate, the Saviour (and He knows what is in 
 man, and how he may be moved) thus strove to win 
 back the Church of Ephesus to her best estate. And 
 thus He strives now to win every declining Church, 
 and private Christian, from that spiritual slumber, 
 which is the beginning of eternal death. He says 
 this day to all of us, who have left our first love, 
 ^'-Rememher from whence thou art fallen P'' And do 
 we address one, any one, in whose life Job's lamen- 
 tation is appropriate, *' Oh that I were as in months 
 past, as in the days when God preserved me; when 
 his candle shined upon my head ; and when, by his 
 light, I w^alked through darkness; as I was in the 
 days of my youth, when the secret of God was upon 
 my tabernacle, when the Almighty was yet Mdth 
 me :" do we address any Christian, whose soul is 
 now cold, dull, dark, and destitute of a cheering sense 
 of God's presence? We say to you, in our dear 
 Lord's own words, "Remember from whence thou 
 art fallen!" If yoii truly lament your present 
 
LEAVING THE FIRST LOVE. 231 
 
 wretched condition ; if you honestly acknowledge to 
 yourself, that you have dechned in love, and faith, 
 and zeal; and if you earnestly wish to go back to 
 Christ, and to have Christ formed anew in your soul ; 
 the first thing which you should do, is to recal your 
 former blessed state. Go into your chamber; shut 
 out the cares, the griefs, the joys, the hopes, the fears, 
 the friendships, the enmities of earth; and summon 
 up before you those blessed hours, when first you 
 knew the Lord. Then you were agonized at the 
 thought of your innumerable sins against the good 
 God ; you were melted with gratitude at the thought 
 of the love of Jesus, which led Him to die for you; 
 you loved God above all things; and it was your 
 meat and drink to do His will. Your first wakins: 
 thoughts were of God ; and in communion with him 
 your last moments of consciousness were always 
 passed. To grow in grace yourself, to bring all the 
 impenitent about you to Christ, and to prepare for 
 heaven, were the great objects of your life; and 
 when you thought of death, you thought of it as the 
 admission to the presence of Him who loved you, and 
 gave Himself for you. And now, how are you fallen ! 
 Sin troubles you not ; the love of Christ moves you 
 not; you are cold and careless in prayer, and a mere 
 formalist in all duties. To have the o^ood thins^s of 
 life, and the favour of earthly friends, is your chief 
 aim. You never now warn the careless, for you are 
 fast becoming careless yourselves. You think of 
 death ; but you have forgotten that it leads to Jesus, 
 and you shrink from it as terrible. Oh, my friend, 
 remember from whence thou art fallen; and repent, 
 
232 LEAVING THE FIRST LOVE. 
 
 and do thy first work. Retrace the painful, but pro- 
 fitable, step of repentance. Humble yourselves in 
 prayer, until God lifts up the light of his counte- 
 nance upon you, through faith in the Cross. Jesus 
 Christ is the same now, as he was in the hour of 
 your conversion; and he would not call upon you to 
 return to Him, were He not ready, yea, longing to 
 return to you. 
 
 But, lest the remembrance of what they had been, 
 should have no effect upon the members of the declin- 
 ing Church of Ephesus, the Saviour adds to His ex- 
 hortation, this fearful threatening — " I will come un- 
 to thee quickly, and will remove thy candlestick out 
 of his place, except thou repent." By these words is 
 meant, I will take from thee the blessed light of the 
 Gospel. A punishment, more terrible, cannot be ima- 
 gined. It is thus described, in the words of one of 
 the old Prophets; "Behold the days come, saith the 
 Lord God, that I will send a famine in the land; 
 not a famine of bread, nor a thirst of water, but 
 of hearing the word of the Lord ; and they shall 
 wander from sea to sea, and from the north even to 
 the east, they shall run to and fro, to seek the word 
 of the Lord, and shall not find it." Picture to your- 
 selves our own fair land, visited with such a doom ; 
 the Bible destroyed; our Churches overthrown; no 
 voice heard to tell the guilty of an all-sufficient Sa- 
 viour. No hope glimmers in the sick room, or in 
 the sepulchre. Animosity and idolatry w^ill break, 
 like a flood, upon us; and the very name of Chris- 
 tianity be lost. What doom can be more terrible 
 than this! Come fire, come famine, come sword. 
 
LEAVING THE FIRST LOVE. 233 
 
 come plague; Lord, chastise us in any manner thou 
 pleasest! Only leave us the blessed light of thy 
 everlasting Gospel ! 
 
 The punishment threatened in the text was fear- 
 fully executed upon the Ephesian Church. The 
 once famous city of Ephesus is now an inconside- 
 rable village, inhabited by herdmen and husband- 
 men. Ruined cottages stand amid the stately ruins 
 of by-gone days. Only one of the churches remain; 
 and that is converted into a Turkish mosque. The 
 religion of Christ is almost forgotten in the city, that 
 echoed with the preaching of Paul, and John, and 
 Timothy. The denunciation has been fulfilled, that 
 their candlestick should be removed out of its place. 
 From this sad fact our Church and individual be- 
 lievers may learn a useful lesson. The heads of 
 the Church planted in this land, may learn, that if 
 she leaves her first love, neglects her duty to the 
 benighted world, and becomes cold, and careless, 
 and proud, and worldly-minded, the light of the 
 gospel will be removed from her. No service, 
 however beautiful; no creed and articles, however 
 sound; no ministry, however apostolic in its com- 
 mission, can perpetuate a Church that ceases to love 
 Christ. The promises of perpetuity and glory are 
 made to the Church at large; not to any one branch 
 of it in particular. The Church Catholic shall con- 
 tinue till the end of time, although the Church in 
 the United States may perish, even as the Church 
 of Ephesus. Let us, then, as a body, be fearful, 
 rather than boastful. If God spared not the earliest 
 branches of His vine, when they became barren and 
 
 30 
 
234 LEAVING THE FIRST LOVE. 
 
 unprofitable, "take heed also lest He spare not 
 thee !" No ministers of vengeance, like those which 
 conducted the Asiatic Churches, seem hovering 
 about us ; but God never looks for agents to do His 
 work : and our candlestick will at once be removed 
 out of its place, if ever the word goes forth con- 
 cerning us, "the kingdom of God shall be taken 
 from you, and given to a nation bringing forth the 
 fruit thereof" 
 
 And the same remark may be applied to individual 
 Christians. God predestinates the body of believers 
 to everlasting glory; but He nowhere in Scripture 
 says that He predestinates any individuals to be per- 
 severing believers. The Church, as such, shall at- 
 tain to glory, but not all its members. Twelve 
 thrones were solemnly promised to the twelve apos- 
 tles ; yet Judas, one of them, lost his apostleship, and 
 his place was supplied by Matthias. There are two 
 sorts of branches growing upon one vine. These, 
 bearing fruit, will flourish in eternity. These, bear- 
 ins not fruit, will be cut off and burned. Let not 
 the Christian, wdio has left his first love, deceive 
 himself with the notion that, because he was once in 
 Christ, therefore he can never be sent from Him. 
 There is no such doctrine to be found in the Bible, 
 whatever may be set forth in popular human systems. 
 St. Paul told the Ephesians, that they should be 
 presented " Holy, unblamable, and unreprovable," 
 in the sight of Christ, if they continued in the faith 
 grounded and settled, and were not moved away 
 from the hope of the gospel. And it is only upon the 
 same condition, that any one shall enter into glory. 
 
LEAVING THE FIRST LOVE. 235 
 
 If, therefore, any lukewarm and falling Christian be 
 consoling himself with the thought that he cannot 
 finally fall, and so put off the return to his first love, 
 we exhort him to be often among the desolation of 
 the seven Churches. He may learn a lesson there, 
 which will bring down the high thought. God, my 
 friend, can do without you; your throne will be 
 given to some Matthias, raised in your stead. Re- 
 member, therefore, from whence thou art fallen ; re- 
 pent and do thy first work ; else, the little light, that 
 remaineth in thee, shall be extinguished, and the 
 blackness of darkness shall be thy everlasting portion. 
 
SERMON XX. 
 
 NO PEACE FOR THE WICKED. 
 
 But the wicked are like llie troubled soa that cannot rest, whose 
 waters cast up mire and dirt. There is no peace, saith nny God, 
 to the wicked. 
 
 Isaiah, Ivii. 20, 21. 
 
 The truth contained in these words, is an eternal 
 truth, and is inwardly attested by every intelligent 
 creature in the universe, who has ever set his will in 
 opposition to that of the Almighty. The angels, 
 which kept not their first estate ; the spirits of the 
 disobedient in every age ; every bad man, who is now 
 breathing the breath of life; every heart in this 
 Church, which is not habitually set to do or suffer 
 the will of God, would tell us, with bitter lamenta- 
 tions, if they would speak the truth, "there is no 
 peace to the wicked." The ocean, in its wildest 
 revels, angrily tossing its waters to the clouds, and 
 uttering its hoarse roaring, is the aptest emblem, 
 in all nature, of the unsanctified heart. True, like 
 the sea, it has its seasons of cnlraness; but they are 
 ever preceded and followed by storms; and in its 
 stillest moments, it holds, as part and parcel of itself, 
 those elements of strife, which the slightest breath 
 can aofitate or set in commotion. Now, well would 
 it be for man, if the truth contained in the text could 
 
NO PEACE FOR THE WICKED. 237 
 
 have an abiding place in his mind and heart ; if he 
 could be brought to feel that God has made misery 
 to be a necessary consequence of sin, even as he has 
 decreed that pain should follow, as a matter of course, 
 upon bodily injury. Many persons seem to suppose 
 that divine punishments resemble human in all 
 points; and that the punishments of the world to 
 come, like imprisonments, or death, or fines with us, 
 will be inflicted or withheld, according to the will of 
 Jehovah, and think that, if withheld in His mercy, 
 the sinner would be necessarily happy. They have 
 no idea that sin produces misery, as naturally as the 
 grain of wheat sown in the earth produces wheat: 
 for, surely, if they did know the connection, which 
 has ever existed, and will ever exist, between sin and 
 suffering, they would not so wantonly sow seeds, 
 which must, in the harvest of life, produce sorrow and 
 shame. But it is thought that reflection will make 
 it evident to any one, that sin must always, and does 
 always, produce misery ; and that a man may as cer- 
 tainly know from his conduct, what moral harvest he 
 will reap, as the husbandman knows what sort of 
 grain he will have, in a certain field, from the seed 
 with which it was sown. 
 
 "There is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked." 
 It will be our object to show that this is true, both in 
 the life that now is, and in that which is to come. 
 And, first, we shall speak of the fact, as illustrated in 
 the present life. Peace, as used in our text, means 
 a freedom from agitation or disturbance. Now this 
 peace cannot be possessed by the wicked, from the 
 restlessness of unruly wills and affections. You may 
 
238 NO PEACE FOR THE WICKED. 
 
 imagine a bad man, surrounded with all the sources 
 of pleasure that this world affords; his homestead 
 shall be fine and beautiful ; he shall be in bodily 
 health, and capable of all physical enjoyments ; yea, 
 we will allow him a mind fitted for intellectual de- 
 lights, and books, and museums, and cabinets, and 
 every thing by which it can be exercised and eleva- 
 ted; and yet, you shall find in that man's breast, de- 
 spite all the glitter, and splendour, and solid com- 
 fort of his estate in life, the elements of misery, which 
 nothing earthly can charm into rest. The radical 
 distinction between a good and bad man, is, that a 
 good man has given up his will to God, and a bad 
 man is self-willed. Now", that self-will is an unfail- 
 ing source of misery to its possessor, unless he is 
 omnipotent, able to do whatever he wills, is readily 
 seen. We can see this fact in the fretfulness and 
 unhappiness of a child, who has been crossed in his 
 wishes. We have probably all experienced it at 
 some time of our lives, when we have been disap- 
 pointed in some favourite project. Let the wretched 
 be ever so prosperous in life, ever so favoured in his 
 plans, he never has every thing his own v/ay; and 
 that one dispensation, that goes contrary to his wish- 
 es, how it disquiets his heart, and poisons his bliss ! 
 He is ready in his fury to give all his possessions to 
 destruction, only because in one thing his own will 
 is opposed. Constantly liable to be thus crossed, un- 
 able to submit to events wdiich are counter to his 
 wishes, for a firm faith in the unerrinjr wisdom and 
 perfect goodness of God, there can be no peace to an 
 unsubduerl heart; to any heart that is not perfectly re- 
 
NO PEACE FOR THE WICKED. 239 
 
 signed to the will of its good Creator. A single glance 
 at the evidence, will convince yon of the facts of the 
 case ; that there is no peace to the self-willed person. 
 And, let us ask, is it not perfectly reasonable that it 
 should be so, that the man, who will not submit to 
 God's will, should be miserable? We are in being 
 solely because God willed it; every breath is of his 
 pleasure; every thing we have is from his bounty. 
 " Of Him, and to Him, and for Him are all things." 
 And if a creature opposes such a Creator, is it not 
 reasonable that he should suffer for his opposition? 
 Nay, in the nature of things, must not a creature 
 made to submit, who undertakes to rebel, be misera- 
 ble. As -well may a planet move unharmed from its 
 decreed orbit, as a creature oppose the will of the 
 source of happiness, and be happy. 
 
 We have thus noticed the chief ingredient in the 
 earthly misery of the wicked ; there are others, which 
 are mingled in the cup of bitterness that he chooses 
 to drink. The wicked is under the dominion of pas- 
 sions and appetites, which keep him far from peace. 
 The mere having of appetites and passions is in it- 
 self no evil. Indeed we could not do without them 
 in our present state of being. Excellent servants do 
 they make, but they are terrible masters; and gener- 
 rally the wicked takes them for his lords. Now we 
 care not what appetite be named, but the dominion 
 of any one of them is attended or followed by certain 
 misery. We care not vvdiat passion has the ascen- 
 dency in the heart; for they all, being in power, work 
 sorrow and death. Avarice is the master passion of 
 thousands; and wherever it reiofns, neace never so 
 
240 MO PEACE FOR THE WICKED. 
 
 much as knocks at the door. Each boon that it ob- 
 tains, only inflames the desire; and the more it gets, 
 the more it craves. Envij poisons its own cup, be- 
 cause its brother is happy; and turns away in disgust 
 from the choicest gifts, if others be blessed like itself. 
 Sensual passions, of all sorts, if they be put in the 
 place of rulers, sting the heart to madness, and wdth 
 every gratification grow wilder and more ungovern- 
 able than before. There needs no learned argument 
 to prove this point. It is a well established principle 
 of man's nature, that there is no peace to those under 
 the dominion of any wrong passion or desire. 
 
 The last element of the earthly "unhappiness of 
 every evil doer, which we shall name, is fear; and 
 there are few so hardened as not sometimes to be 
 distressed by its visitations. The very invitation of 
 the sensual to each other has in itself a thought to 
 poison joy. "Let us eat and drink, ybr to-morrow 
 we dieV The very reason, that nerves the wicked 
 to sensual pleasure, makes sensual pleasure fearful. 
 Fill your goblets to the brim, load your table with 
 delicacies, intoxicate all the senses with delights, to- 
 day, because to-morrow you die : and because you 
 do die to-morrow, to-day's feast is turned into mourn- 
 ing ; there is bitterness in the wine cup, and loath- 
 ins: of the rich viands; and the imao^e of death 
 haunts your revels, like a skeleton at an Egyptian 
 banquet. Fear, which renders the wicked incapable 
 of peace, is manifested in them as dreading the loss 
 of present joys and possessions, and also as increasing 
 positive evils in futurity. Give a man the greatest 
 of earthly blessings, and if his heart is wholly on 
 
NO PEACE FOR THE WICKED. 241 
 
 them, he cannot be at peace, while he carries about 
 with him a sense of insecurity in the possession. "It 
 may be all gone to-morrow," is a thought that robs 
 us of the enjoyment of to-day; and when any one 
 centres all his joys and hopes in earthly possession, 
 will not such a thought ever keep him from the way 
 of peace? But the fear to which we chiefly allude, 
 is that dread of something after death, which con- 
 science tells the wicked is to come. The wicked 
 knows that, do what he will, he must die; that an 
 hour will come along, in the circle of years, when 
 he shall cease to breathe; when men shall say, in 
 the busy streets, that he is gone; and when his body, 
 cold and still, shall be extended, at fearful length, 
 upon the naked bed. *'Ah, then !" he asks his heart, 
 "where shall I be then?" He knows, that if there 
 be an Almighty God, who regards the actions of 
 men as right or wrong, and rewards and punishes 
 them accordingly; he knows, that if the threatenings 
 of the Bible be true, he has nothing but horror be- 
 fore him. And is not the bare possibility of the 
 truth of these things, quite enough to disquiet any 
 one who admits it? And it does disquiet him, say 
 what he may. There is no peace to the thinking 
 sinner. If he can only stupify his mind, he may be 
 at ease; but as long as reason utters the faintest 
 w^hisper amid the mad rovings of passion, reason 
 will tell him that there is a good God ; and that God 
 hates sin ; and that he himself is a sinner ; and that 
 the vengeance of God will overtake him at last. 
 And while reason tells him these things, it is just as 
 impossible for his heart to be at peace, as for the 
 
 31 
 
242 NO PEACE FOR THE WICKED. 
 
 waters of the cataract to flow qaietly over the preci- 
 pice down which they are wont to hurry and rage. 
 He will try to make us think that he is happy; per- 
 haps he will try to persuade himself that he is 
 happy; but his heart will ache, in spite of his decep- 
 tions; for it is an everlasting law of Jehovah, "There 
 is no peace to the wicked." 
 
 You have thus seen, that in the life that now is, 
 self-will, passions, and appetites, and the fear of futu- 
 rity, keep peace from the wicked. We ask you, 
 then, why you will not come to Christ, and ask him 
 to change your hearts ? Do you love misery, that 
 you keep on sinning? You can never be happy, 
 unless you become true Christians; for no one can 
 be happy in this world of frailty and death, whose 
 will is not surrendered to God, whose appetites are 
 not subdued to reason, and who is without a reason- 
 able hope of happiness beyond the grave, which will 
 soon be dug to receive him. 
 
 In the present life, sin brings misery; reason tells 
 us that it is probable, and revelation that it is certain, 
 that misery will still be the portion of the wicked 
 in that state of existence, upon which we shall all 
 soon enter. Of the duration of this misery reason 
 can tell us nothing; while revelation certifies us 
 that it will be perpetual. The word of God, literally 
 taken, represents the future misery of the wicked 
 as consisting in physical torture and suffering. 
 That the scriptural descriptions of future punishment 
 divejigurative, is a thing which we shall not presume 
 to say. They may be, and they may not be. We 
 are to have bodies at the resurrection ; but while in 
 
NO PEACE FOR THE WICKED. 243 
 
 ignorance of their nature, for " it doth not yet ap- 
 pear what we shall be," it is presumptuous to de- 
 cide such a question. We merely state the opinion, 
 that the misery of mind and heart in the w^orld to 
 come will probably be like that, which is experienced 
 by the wicked in this life. We take it for granted, 
 that the moral or spiritual part of a bad man w^iil 
 be unaltered by death ; and this being the case, the 
 same thing, which made up his misery in this world, 
 will be mingled in the cup, which will be given 
 him to drink in the abode of the lost. His misery 
 there will, like his miseiy here, be a simple carrying 
 out of the everlasting law of God, that there shall be 
 no peace to the disobedient and the self-willed. And 
 viewing future punishment in this light, how in- 
 evitable it seems. God gave man a nature subject 
 to these laws, holiness produces peace, and wicked- 
 ness misery; and man, choosing to be a sinner, must 
 make up his mind to suffer. We wish that we 
 could bring the wicked to think of future punish- 
 ment in this way. While they think of it as like 
 earthly punishments in certain respects, there will 
 be lurking in their hearts the hope, that God will be 
 too merciful to inflict it. But if they look upon it 
 as a necessary consequence of sin, as a thing which 
 must follow sin, they wall surely be more afraid to 
 sin. Thus a man will steal, hoping that in some way, 
 either through want of evidence, or the mercy of 
 the magistrates, he shall escape the punishment; 
 for he knows that there is no necessary connection 
 between crime and earthly punishment, since he 
 sees many criminals go "unwhipt of justice;" but 
 
244 NO PEACE FOR THE WICKED. 
 
 he will not starve, for he knows that there is a ne- 
 cessary connection between taking nourishment and 
 life. Now you all will allow, that in this life sin 
 produces misery; what reason can you bring to 
 show, that this rule will cease to operate in the life to 
 come ? If you can bring none, and we are sure that 
 you can bring none, we on the other hand have 
 many reasons to show that the law, that " sin shall 
 produce sorrow," will be perpetual in its operations. 
 These are drawn chiefly from the unalterable nature 
 of sin, and of God, and from what is seen of the deal- 
 ings of God in this world. We see here the misery, 
 which a spirit of hatred, or pride, or envy, or avarice, 
 brings upon a person under their influence ; and 
 while such a spirit reigns in a man, misery must at- 
 tend it ; and so it matters not whether fires, and dun- 
 geons, and chains await us in the world to come, if 
 a wicked heart is not taken from a sinner in the hour 
 of death ; if it remains with him, forever in himself 
 he bears torments, as terrible as any that can be 
 imagined. The wicked must, in order to have a rea- 
 sonable hope of peace beyond the grave, have a 
 reasonable expectation that death will change his 
 heart. If he has no such expectation, then he may 
 be horribly afraid of the prospect of the everlasting 
 operation of the law, " there is no peace to the 
 wicked." 
 
 And now imagine for a moment the moral suffer- 
 inof of the condemned. Self-will still reigns in the 
 being, whom omnipotence has chained down forever. 
 Passions and appetites that can neither be subdued 
 nor gratified, forever rage in the heart; impotent 
 
NO PEACE FOR THE WICKED. 245 
 
 hatred maddens, and perpetual fear of fresh misery 
 oppresses it. Can we conceive of greater suffering 
 than this? Oh you, who are now under the power 
 of any master passion, and are conscious of the suf- 
 fering that it causes you, only think of that suffering 
 as perpetual, and you have a true idea of the misery 
 that awaits the lost; that awaits you, unless God 
 gives you here a new heart, and you are delivered 
 from the dominion of sin. 
 
 " There is no peace, saith my God to the wicked." 
 The practical lesson taught us by this subject is this, 
 that in order to be happy here and hereafter, we must 
 have holiness, as well as pardon of our past sins. We 
 do not say this, because we believe that the two are 
 separated in God's dealings with us. Whom God 
 justifies, He also sanctifies; when He admits a sinner 
 to pardon, He gives him a new nature. But we 
 say it, because some, who retain sinful affections 
 and desires, still have some hope of pardon at the 
 last day, from the general mercy of God, or the 
 blessed sacrifice of the Cross. Now, if there can in 
 the nature of things be no peace to the wicked, 
 such a hope is at once done away. While you keep 
 sin, you keep misery; no pardon can avail you. 
 You might be admitted into heaven ; but, if you 
 went there self-willed and proud, or lustful, or en- 
 vious, you would have moral and mental torment, 
 in a body incapable of physical suffering; your spirit 
 w^ould writhe within you, while your ears drank in 
 celestial harmonies ; and your heart would ache, 
 while all around you was bright, beautiful, and at- 
 
246 NO PEACE FOR THE WICKED. 
 
 tractive. Let us all seek the one thing needful; a 
 delivery from the power of sin, and a filial spirit of 
 obedience to the laws of God. He, w^ho has these 
 two blessings, is truly happy. They must be 
 sought from Him, whose blood, inwardly and out- 
 wardly, in a forensic and in a moral sense, cleanseth 
 from all sin. 
 
SERMON XX[. 
 
 REVERENT ATTENDANCE IN GOD'S HOUSE. 
 Keep thy foot when thou goest to the house of God. 
 
 EcCLESIASTES, V. i. 
 
 These words teach us the duty of a reverent ap- 
 proach to places set apart for God's more immediate 
 worship and service. The direction to keep the foot, 
 takes its rise in the Eastern custom of removing the 
 shoes or sandals, and of washing the feet, before en- 
 tering sacred places; for with the nations of the east, 
 uncovering the feet was the sign of veneration and 
 respect, even as uncovering the head is with us. 
 Of the necessity of reverence and respect in attend- 
 ing the house of God, no Christian needs to be per- 
 suaded ; and yet it is necessary, from time to time, 
 to speak of the duty of a due preparation for attend- 
 ing the services of the Church; since so many 
 thoughtless and careless people find their way to the 
 habitations of God's house, and the place where His 
 honor dwelleth. With you, my brethren, there can 
 be no need of proving that Churches are, in an espe- 
 cial manner, places which God chooses to set His 
 name there, and so are holy; for you believe that 
 when faithful men offer to the Almighty even a 
 temple made with hands. He accepts it, and blesses 
 it, and condescends to dwell there, and be found 
 there of spiritual worshippers. We shall therefore 
 
248 REVERENT ATTENDANCE IN GOD's HOUSE. 
 
 confine our remarks to these three things : the man- 
 ner in which we should approach the House of God ; 
 the manner in which we should conduct ourselves 
 when there; and the manner in which we should 
 return to our houses. We shall also take occasion to 
 notice some improprieties of conduct at Church, of 
 which we are all too apt to be guilty. We remark, 
 in passing, that this is a subject which should be at- 
 tended to by the youngest member of the Church 
 present; for as they are more liable to err in this 
 matter than others, so should they be more attentive 
 and careful in receiving the instruction which they 
 so much need. 
 
 *' Keep thy foot when thou goest to the house of 
 God." These words teach the duties of previous 
 preparation for the services of the sanctuary. Out- 
 ward decency of dress generally receives all the at- 
 tention that is due to it in this connection; and so 
 hardly needs to be noticed, except, perhaps, to say, 
 that a neglect of it would, compounded, as man is, 
 both of soul and body, in a little while, produce the 
 neglect of what is far more important — namely, a 
 clean heart, and an humble spirit. It is a wise and 
 venerable custom, to come to Church more decently 
 habited than many of us can ordinarily be at other 
 times ; only let the purity of the outward man re- 
 mind us of the purity that should be found, in ''the 
 hidden man of the heart." It is within that a pre- 
 paration is chiefly necessary; and it is the inward 
 preparation which is chiefly neglected ; and for the 
 want of this the services of the Church, and the Gos- 
 pel of Christ, are often found dull and unprofitable. 
 
REVERENT ATTENDANCE I\ GOD's HOUSE. 249 
 
 When the worldly-minded are about to enter upon 
 any scenes of pleasure, they indeed need no prepa- 
 ration of heart, for their heart is all in the matter in 
 which they are to be engaged ; for hours before they 
 mingle with the giddy throng, or join the shouts of 
 revelry, they have anticipated and imagined all the 
 delight to be enjoyed ; and when the wished-for mo- 
 ment has come, they are entirely prepared, in feel- 
 ing and desire, for the occupations in which they are 
 to engage. And if our hearts were all right, if we 
 loved God as we ought to, we should need no moral 
 preparation for Church; we should at once be very 
 glad when it was said to us "let us go into the house 
 of the Lord;" our souls would have a desire, and a 
 lonfrino-, to enter into the courts of the livinor God. 
 But, alas! with many of us — perhaps with most of 
 us — this is not so. We drag ourselves to Church, 
 from habit, or because we are compelled to do it, or 
 to please some friend, or to pass away the time. 
 Others there are indeed, who come from a sense of 
 duty, upon a principle of obedience to God, from a 
 sincere desire to please Him by keeping His com- 
 mandments. But even these — the true children of 
 God — do not always feel that it is good to be here. 
 
 "Our souls how heavily they go, 
 To reach eternal joys." 
 
 Now would not both these classes of people enjoy pub- 
 lic worship much more, if they would seek at home 
 a preparation of heart, and endeavour, on their way 
 to Church, to control their thoughts, to call them in 
 from the world, and to fix them upon God and the 
 
 32 
 
250 REVERENT ATTENDANCE IN GOD's HOUSE. 
 
 momentous truths of religion ? It is evident not only 
 that they would enjoy more, but that they would 
 profit more. At any rate, let us all try the effect, 
 which due preparation will produce. Let God be 
 fervently invoked in private, before we come to 
 Church, to give us His blessing upon our attendance ; 
 and when the sound of the Church-going bell sum- 
 mons us from our home, let Him be in all our 
 thoughts. Remember as you come up, whose house 
 it is that you are about to enter, and why you are 
 coming, and put away all thoughts of w^orldly 
 business and worldly pleasure from your minds. 
 My brethren, do you thus prepare to come to God's 
 house? Did you come up here this afternoon thus 
 prepared ? Did you leave your Bibles and your closets 
 for this place of prayer? Or did you come up in- 
 dulging in light and trifling conversation; or mind- 
 ing earthly things? Would you be willing to have 
 the thoughts, which you brought along with you, 
 known to this congregation ? Can you delight in the 
 remembrance that they were all known to Almighty 
 God? We pray you honestly to examine yourselves, 
 whether you give heed to the solemn admonition, 
 " Keep thy foot when thou goest to the house of God." 
 The text further admonishes us to give heed to 
 our conduct when present in the sanctuary. Our 
 duties at Church, may be resolved into two, namely 
 worship, including prayer and praise; and the hear- 
 ing of the Scriptures and the sermon. In order 
 to perform these duties properly and acceptably to 
 God, we must give them our sober and undivided 
 attention ; and in this respect how many fail. Only 
 
REVERENT ATTENDANCE IN GOD's HOUSE. 251 
 
 consider the conduct of many worshippers during the 
 commencement of the service, which is as you well 
 know a solemn exhortation to confess your sins before 
 God. And while it is being read, how many are the 
 wandering looks, how few seem to be really intent 
 upon listening to the invitation and preparing to 
 obey it. But if a Christian really keeps his foot, 
 when he goes to the house of God, he will endeavour 
 to recall the various sins of omission and commission, 
 which burden his conscience, and especially those 
 which have defiled it, since he last bowed his knee 
 in prayer. We know that there is often an appear- 
 ance of negligence, where it does not really exist; but 
 we have often been grieved at the inattention, with 
 which this part of the Church service is treated. 
 And surely, if we were thinking while confessing our 
 sins, we should not be gazing about the Church, as 
 many do. And if we commence public worship in 
 this way, it is no wonder that we find it dull. Per- 
 haps the best thing that we could do, to correct this 
 fault, is to avoid looking around in Church as much 
 as possible, and to keep the eye fixed upon the prayer- 
 book. We are sure that, if persons would follow this 
 direction, there would be more engagedness in prayer 
 in Church, and less of that foolish gossip about people 
 and things, which now too often drive away all the 
 good thoughts that may have been awakened in the 
 sanctuary. 
 
 The same line of remark might be extended to va- 
 rious other parts of the duty of worship. We might 
 speak of the feeble response, carelessness in hymning 
 the praises of the Lord, and even of the wandering 
 
252 REVERENT ATTENDANCE IN GOD's HOUSE. 
 
 eye, too plainly showing the wandering thought, in 
 the most solemn acts of prayer; but we pass to the 
 duty of hearing ; and surely, in performing this duty, 
 there is many a Christian who seems to need the 
 warning, " Keep thy foot when thou goest to the 
 house of God." When you hear a sermon, you lis- 
 ten to a message from God; and it matters not who 
 may be the messenger, provided the true message be 
 delivered. Now do the great majority of Christians 
 listen to sermons in this spirit? We fear that they 
 do not; we fear that there is a most unholy feeling 
 amongst us upon this subject. As an evidence of 
 this, only witness the carelessness of certain persons, 
 when the favourite preacher is not in the pulpit; or 
 listen to the disdainful criticisms with which they 
 load the discourse, which, however humble it may 
 be as a literary production, should have been lis- 
 tened to by them in a respectful manner, as a means 
 of spiritual instruction. Ah ! do such persons keep 
 their feet, when they go to the sanctuary? Do they 
 not rather come up to its solemn courts to have their 
 ears tickled ; or to offer the incense of praise to the 
 poor frail creature, and not to the glorious Creator; 
 or to puff up their own pride of intellect, by indulg- 
 ing themselves in despising others? Do they not 
 set themselves to judge the ministers of the Most 
 High? Be assured that all, who come hither in this 
 spirit, come to give "the sacrifice of fools." My 
 brethren, every orthodox sermon you hear, either 
 profits you, or increases your condemnation. It will 
 be no excuse for you at the last day, that the preach- 
 er was dull and uninteresting; if he affectionately 
 
REVERENT ATTENDANCE IN GOD's HOUSE. 253 
 
 told you the truth, and you did not obey it, because 
 he was rude of speech, or because he was not the 
 one you wanted to hear, his gospel will be to you "a 
 savour of death unto death." Keep these thoughts 
 in mind whenever you hear a sermon, and by God's 
 grace they will make you more reverential in your 
 conduct at His house. The proud critic will be 
 changed into the meek hearer, and Christ will send 
 many a message to your watchful ear and prepared 
 heart, from those who have no claim to eloquence. 
 When we go to the house of God, let us all put up 
 the prayer, 
 
 "Lord grant me this abiding grace, 
 
 Thy word and Son to know, 
 To pierce the veil on JMoses' face, 
 
 Although his speech be slow." 
 
 The text, lastly, teaches us, that if we would profit 
 by the services of the sanctuary, we must go from it 
 seriously and devoutly ; and here it is that most of us 
 fail. Look at the Church, after the blessing has 
 been pronounced; instead of retiring silently and de- 
 voutly when the service is over, you often see little 
 groups gathered together, engaged in conversation, 
 which, as we fear, does not harmonize with the 
 solemn words and holy strains, which have just died 
 upon their ears. Or follow some of those groups 
 home; and you shall hear of the farm and the mer- 
 chandise, the affairs of the household, and the wea- 
 ther, and the crops; and, perhaps, vain and profane 
 jests; or if the conversation takes something of its 
 colouring from the subject, which has just before been 
 presented to their mind, it consists too often in criti- 
 
254 REVERENT ATTENDANCE IN GOD's HOUSE. 
 
 cisms and complaints, which show that the speakers 
 have forgotten that the services of the Church, and 
 preaching of the Gospel are means of spiritual im- 
 provement, for the use of which they must one day- 
 give an account. Now, in leaving the house of God 
 in this spirit, you cannot possibly be profited by the 
 prayers which you have offered, and the instructions 
 which you have received. Good thoughts, and holy 
 desires, which may have been awakened and excited 
 by the previous exercises, will be driven away by le- 
 vity and trifling conversation; you will return to 
 your home as empty as you went forth, and the next 
 time that you go to Church it will be duller than 
 ever. That these things are so, we all know, and 
 perhaps from personal experience. And will any 
 one ask what is the use of all this gravity? Simply 
 that you may improve by the opportunities of prayer 
 and praise and hearing God's word, which he has 
 given you. And is it not a solemn thing to go from 
 Church; to reflect that you will be called to an ac- 
 count of the use that you have made of God's day 
 and God's ordinances; to think too, that you may 
 never come there again ; or that the next time that 
 you pass the sacred gates, you may be borne slowly 
 along, to be committed dust to dust ? The gay throngs, 
 who pass from the haunts of pleasure, have no need 
 to be exhorted to talk and think of the scenes which 
 they leave behind; and if our affections w^ere right, 
 a serious frame of mind after solemn acts would be 
 natural to us. But, as it is averse to spiritual things 
 by nature, the heart must be slowly turned to better 
 ways. And, my brethren, will you not try to put in 
 
REVERENT ATTENDANCE IN GOD's HOUSE. 255 
 
 practice that which you have heard this afternoon? 
 Will you not, as you go to your homes, try to be se- 
 rious and devout, and to meditate upon the holy ser- 
 vices of this day ? Will you not, when you reach 
 your homes, instead of taking up secular books, or 
 engaging in worldly conversation, go to your closets, 
 and pray God to bless you, and all your brethren ; to 
 hear the prayers of His Church, and give power and 
 force to the w^ord preached by his ministers; to bless 
 the words which we have heard this day, to the con- 
 version of the impenitent amongst us. and the sancti- 
 fication and edification of the Christians. If you 
 would do this Sunday after Sunday, and be watchful 
 over your hearts, in time you will acquire a serious 
 habit of mind ; the services of the Church will never 
 be dull ; and even a dull, long sermon will be to us 
 a means of grace. Let us all, ministers and people, 
 put these things in practice; for I believe that we 
 shall all feel, that we have been in the habit of at- 
 tending too carelessly and coldly upon the privileges 
 of God's house. And remember, if we delight not 
 in the services of the earthly, we shall have no 
 hearts for those of the heavenly tabernacle; and we 
 can never stand amid the radiant throngs, who com- 
 pass the throne of God with eternal hymns of praise. 
 There will be no one in heaven, who did not feel on 
 earth with the Psalmist, "one day in Thy courts is 
 better than a thousand; I had rather be a door- 
 keeper in the house of my God, than to dwell in the 
 tents of unofodliness." 
 
SERMON XXII. 
 
 EARTHLY SUFFERING AND HEAVENLY GLORY.* 
 
 [For the Fourth Sunday after Trinity.] 
 
 For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy, 
 to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us. 
 
 Romans, viii. 18. 
 
 There are but few people who do not know from 
 experience that this present time has its sufferings ; 
 and yet the many seem never to take them as a mat- 
 ter of course, as a thing which must come. Young 
 persons generally expect as a birthright a certain por- 
 tion of the comforts and good things of this life : and 
 if they do not get this portion, they feel that they 
 have been cheated out of their own ; that something, 
 which belonged to them, has been unrighteously kept 
 back. This feeling is partly owing no doubt to a 
 wrong education. We saw, as we grew up, parents, 
 and friends, and guardians, and teachers, making set- 
 tlements, estates, comforts, health, station, and such 
 like, the great objects of life ; while religion was pre- 
 sented to us, as a decent appendage to luxuries and 
 refinement, and as something necessary to the bed 
 
 • This was the last Sermon that he ever wrote — the fifty-third, not fifty-first, 
 as intimated at page Ixxv, It was written in anguish of body indescribable, yet 
 in faith that looked to Jct^us, and so triumphed over pain. 
 
EARTHLY" SUFFF.raXG AM) HFAVENLV GI ORT. 267 
 
 of death : whereas we should have been taught, as in- 
 deed some of us were, ihiit wo were put here to do 
 the will of God ; that we must expect suffering in 
 doing- it ; but that at the last we should be crowned 
 with glory; and that "the sufferings of this present 
 life are not worthy to be compared with the glory 
 that shall be revealed." But however educated, we 
 are here in scenes of suffering and trial, hurrying into 
 an invisible world ; and the question with us is, shall 
 we cheerfully incur the sufferings of this present time, 
 for the joy that is set before us ; or shall we strive to 
 avoid them, by living here for pleasure, shutting our 
 eyes upon eternity, and forgetting its interests, hopes, 
 and fears, until they are fearfully forced upon the at- 
 tention of our disembodied spirits ? May God give 
 us grace to decide this question wisely. Perhaps, by 
 His help, the following considerations will aid you in 
 the decision. 
 
 We suppose that it will be generally admitted, 
 that all men, or almost all men, suffer more or less in 
 this life. That life too has many comforts and bless- 
 ings and delights, cannot possibly be denied. But 
 taking life as a whole, and men as a body, we find 
 sorrows and troubles enough, in all ages and classes 
 and stations, to justify the saying, that man is born to 
 misery, that life is a valley of tears. Childhood, for 
 instance, is talked about generally as the happiest 
 season of existence. We always tell children that 
 theirs are the golden hours. And perhaps it is true. 
 Yet how much of childhood is passed in sorrow! It 
 has quite as many tears as smiles. Restraints, the 
 difficulties of learning, the whims and caprices and 
 
 33 
 
258 EARTHLY SUFFFRING 
 
 petty tyranny of superiors, often make the early part 
 of life a burden, of which we are glad to be well rid. 
 We do not mean to say that this feeling is right. We 
 merely mention the fact. And the after parts of life 
 have their trials; weightier indeed, because we are 
 then able to bear weightier. Many of those, who 
 seem to be well situated and happily settled as we 
 say, have trials that we do not think of Some, who 
 seem to be in health, are bending under the pressure 
 of disease; some, whose homes seem pleasant and 
 happy as can be to careless spectators, have sore do- 
 mestic trials. Station brings envy and malice. Pos- 
 sessions are followed by care and anxiety. Middle 
 age is for the most part restless and worried ; old 
 age fretful and uncomfortable. " The remembrance 
 of youth is a sigh." Such is the inheritance of mor- 
 tals, an inheritance so miserable, that an inspired 
 writer exclaims at the thought of it, " wherefore hast 
 Thou made all men in vain?" 
 
 But over and above the ordinary sufferings of 
 mankind, we say that Christians have sufferings of a 
 peculiar kind. Not but that it is true, that the life 
 of Christians is more blessed and peaceful, yea, inex- 
 pressibly more peaceful, than that of worldlings. 
 Still it remains true, that Christians, the children 
 of God, have more sufferings than those, who are not 
 living for the world to come. Did not the Apostle 
 Paul say, "that if in this life only we have hope in 
 Christ, we are of all men most miserable?" In his 
 case you will allow this to be true; but it is true in 
 the case of all true Christians. A true believer looks 
 at things not seen; forgets time; lives in eternity; 
 
AND HEAVENLY GLORY. 259 
 
 endures as seeing Him who is invisible; he gives up 
 things certain, things in his hand, for things to 
 carnal eyes uncertain and far distant. Now think 
 you not, that, for our depraved natures and carnal 
 minds, it is hard to do these things ? Is it not easier 
 to gratify, than to deny, our affections and lusts? to 
 gratify them, that is so far as may be consistent with 
 health, and so with comfort. But "they that are 
 Christ's have crucified the flesh with its affections 
 and lusts." Can any process, which is described 
 even figuratively as crucifying^ be pleasant or easy? 
 Is it not a great deal pleasanter to the natural man to 
 heap up riches, to spend them upon self, to gratify 
 pride and vanity with ostentatious display, than to be- 
 stow them in alms, to give them up, to avoid rather 
 than seek them ? Is it not easier to the self-willed, to 
 do as he chooses, than to give up his will to God. Is it 
 not pleasanter to be called liberal, amiable, generous 
 here ; than bigoted, mean, sour, unmanly ; terms 
 often bestowed upon those, who contend earnestly for 
 the Catholic Faith ; who deny themselves, that they 
 may have to give to the Church and the poor, who 
 come out of the world in obedience to Christ, and 
 who moreover are more afraid of the anger of God, 
 than of the sneers of man ? You must admit that these 
 things are so ; that those, who do practice the sayings 
 of Christ about riches, and self-denial, and living for 
 eternity, and forsaking all things for his sake, do have 
 more sufferings, than those who love this present 
 world. For remember, we are not speaking of nomi- 
 nal Christians; of those whose aim is to please them- 
 selves as far as they can, without positively displeas- 
 
260 EARTHLY SUFFERING 
 
 ing God; of those who comply with God's laws when 
 it is not really inconvenient to themselves : but of 
 those, who have put all in God's hands; who know 
 no will but His, and of whom it may truly be said, 
 that for them "to live is Christ." Such an one was 
 St. Paul. His name, his ease, his comfort, his pros- 
 pects of respectability and riches, he gave freely up. 
 He might have settled quietly down in Tarsus, and 
 lived like many Christians now-a-daj^s. But he had 
 learned a nobler lesson under the Cross. He had 
 learned that he too must be nailed to the saving tree : 
 and therefore, through life was he crucified with 
 Christ. Look at St. Paul, ye who think that a true 
 Christian's is an easy life ; look into the heart of any 
 true follower of Jesus, and see the bitter struggles 
 that rend it ; see its frequent desolation ; the anguish 
 of slaying self, of trampling down natural desires, 
 of giving up dear hopes; and you will feel that it is 
 no easy thing to suffer with Christ. 
 
 All men then suffer. The children of God and 
 members of Christ suffer especially; but St. Paul 
 says, "I reckon that the sufferings of this present 
 time are not worthy to be compared with the glory 
 that shall be revealed." Let us illustrate the remark 
 by a case in point. The young man who came to 
 Christ, having great possessions, was told, *' If thou 
 wilt be perfect, go and sell that thou hast, and give 
 to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven." 
 This young man was called to make a painful self- 
 sacrifice, to undergo a great self-denial, for the sake 
 of heaven; to venture his fortune, in order to gain the 
 glory that shall be revealed. And this is what we 
 
AND HEA.VENLY GLORY. 261 
 
 should all do — undergo present sufferings and losses 
 for the sake of future gain. We must make a fair 
 calculation of the matter ; on the one side set down, 
 self-denial, the loss of ease, of comfort, of luxury, per- 
 haps of the world's good-will ; and on the other, the 
 eternal weight of glory ; and then ask ourselves, if we 
 will make the overture; if we will embark our all 
 in a voyage to the haven of eternal rest. AVill you 
 say, that this is an unreasonable thing to do? Why 
 you do not think it unreasonable in business or litera- 
 ture, or war. Why then is it unreasonable in reli- 
 gion ? One of the most common things in the world, is 
 to see men incurring present inconvenience, giving up 
 much present good, running great risks of loss, through 
 the uncertain hope of future gain. A new^ scheme of 
 business is opened ; a man, possessed of a small capital, 
 invests it in this particular branch of business, hoping 
 success indeed, but still uncertain as to the result. 
 In the hope of gain, he prefers rather to venture his 
 property, and to give up the present enjoyment of it, 
 than to have the comforts, luxuries, and gratifications, 
 which it might afford him if spent at once. He 
 reckons that the present deprivation is not worthy 
 to be compared with the enjoyment, which he shall 
 have, from larger possessions, if he shall be success- 
 ful. So too in acquiring knowledge. The scholar 
 sacrifices his ease, his hours of rest and enjoyment, 
 that he may store up wisdom; for he too thinks that 
 the power and pleasure, which sound learning will 
 one day afford him, far outweighs inconvenience and 
 loss of comforts for the time being. True, he may 
 never succeed ; heBlth may break down ; and long 
 
262 EARTHLY SUFFERING 
 
 before the wished for years come round, which were 
 to have seen him renowned and honoured, he may 
 be dust and ashes and a heap of dry bones. He 
 knows this; but he is willing to run the risk, to ven- 
 ture his time and his health for the rewards that he 
 hopes to attain. And shall men be thus venturesome 
 for the sake of earthly things, and not for heavenly ? 
 Shall the man of business give up the pleasures of 
 youth, and the delights of friendship and literature, 
 and sear and shrivel up his heart in the "close and 
 dusky counting house," and toil and struggle through 
 his three score years and ten, that forsooth he may 
 have a softer pillow on his death-bed than his fellows? 
 And will not man, rational man, be willing to endure 
 the sufferings of this present time, for the hope of 
 the glory that shall be revealed, and will last forever 
 and ever ? But you tell me that Christianity may be 
 a delusion; or that even if you set out, you may 
 never reach heaven. Be it so : the religion of Christ 
 may be a delusion ; no one of our friends and neigh- 
 bours, who have died in the Lord, ever came back to 
 tell us the story of their blessedness. You may re- 
 pent of your sins, and believe in Christ, and yet fail 
 to come to the continuing city. But is not the pro- 
 bability that the religion of Christ is true, or that you 
 will reach heaven if you make the attempt, as strong 
 as the probability that you will greatly increase your 
 fortune if you embark your little capital, as hundreds 
 do, in untried modes of business ? Oh ! you will run 
 fearful risks for time; and why not for eternity? If 
 you should fail in your business ; if you should find 
 yourself a poor man at threescore, after toiling all 
 
AND HEAVENLY GLORY, 263 
 
 your days, you will indeed have to regret the sunny 
 hours of youth, and the sober days of manhood, un- 
 redeemed for wisdom and friendship ; but you will 
 not be in an utterly hopeless case. But suppose that 
 you make no venture for heaven in this life, and find 
 after this life, that heaven and hell are realities, and 
 that hell is your portion? Oh ! you will confess one 
 thing in the agony of that discovery, that all the suf- 
 ferings, that could have been endured on earth, are 
 not worthy to be named with those sufferings, that 
 know neither intermission, alleviation, or end ! Be 
 wise then here; give up everything for and to God; 
 take Him at His w^ord, when He tells you, by the 
 mouth of St. Paul, that "the sufferings of this present 
 time are not worthy to be compared with the glory 
 which shall be revealed." For that glory venture 
 everything. And even if you lose all by the ven- 
 ture, (supposing that possible if you come to Christ,) 
 the thought that you have tried, will make eternal 
 torments more tolerable. 
 
 The truth, contained in the text, may also be used 
 for the purpose of testing the reality of our faith, and 
 our earnestness in religion. Are we really taking 
 up our cross, and denying ourselves luxuries and 
 comforts, for the sake of the glory that shall be re- 
 vealed ? If the promise of glory should turn out to 
 be false, should we be really losers ? Have we given 
 up anything for Christ's sake, which we should not 
 have given up, if Christ had not come? These are 
 serious questions. To a certain extent, every sen- 
 sible man, for the sake of his own well-being, comfort, 
 and respectability, will govern his appetites, give 
 
264 EARTHLY SUFFERING 
 
 alms, and practice good will towards his neighbours; 
 and we may do all these things without the love God. 
 See to it, my brethren, what are you enduring, what 
 are you suffering, what are you really giving up for 
 Christ's sake. You perhaps have some feelings 
 about your justification, which may, or may not, be 
 well founded. But have you such a firm faith in 
 the word of God, that "the sufferings of this present 
 time are not worthy to be compared with the glory 
 that shall be revealed," that for the sake of that slorv 
 you are undergoing suffering and loss? For instance, 
 like St. Barnabas, would you give up a large and 
 valuable property for the benefit of Christ's poor? If 
 you have no part in the sufferings of this present 
 time, you must fear lest you have no part in the 
 coming glory. There never yet was a Christian 
 finally saved without a cross; if you bear no cross, if 
 you live in ease and luxury, if you know nothing of 
 self-denial, tremble, for you are not Christ's! 
 
 Lastly, the children of God should use this truth 
 for consolation. They have to endure sufferings 
 often, which could not be borne without faith in that 
 saying of God, on which we are discoursing. We 
 speak not now of physical or earthly sufferings 
 alone; the sanctified and unsanctitied Pagan and 
 Christian have cdike borne them well. But we speak 
 of the pain of crucifying the whole self; of putting 
 to death, not one passion or appetite, for the sake of 
 health, or respectability ; Ijut the Jitsh with its offec- 
 tmis and lusts, for the sake of God. This is a hard 
 work to do; and often, often, in the course of the 
 struggle, the poor heart aches and fails for fear. 
 
AND HEAVENLY GLORY. 265 
 
 Pleasures dazzle us ; pain terrifies us ; the world 
 distracts us; and we sometimes feel, that we had 
 better give up, and take our chance for futurity with 
 the multitudes that forget God. In such times, yea, 
 at all times, let us seek grace to receive heartily the 
 saying, " the sufferings of this present time are not 
 worthy to be compared with the glory that shall be 
 revealed." Yet a little long-er, and these sufferinirs 
 will be over. You shall sicken and lie down on the 
 bed of death ; friends shall surround you, compan- 
 ions in misery and suffering; but your eye shall 
 close upon them and open in glory ! Ah then — and 
 not till then, can you realize the fulness of the mean- 
 ing of St. Paul's words. But each must realize it 
 for himself Shall we ever know from experience 
 that an hour in heaven repays the pangs of years ? 
 
 34 
 
^ottitul Utmuinn. 
 
 'U 
 
Thou art gone from us, my brother — there is dust upon thy brow, 
 And coldness in thy kindly heart, which ne'er was cold till now, 
 And sweet and undisturbed thy rest beneath the sacred stone, 
 Where pious hands thy couch have spread, and thou art left alone. 
 
 Thou art taken from us brother — all thy cares and labours done. 
 When, to our short-reaching vision, they had seemed but just begun ; 
 And, long before its noon was reached, thy heaven-enkindled ray 
 Was lost, as stars by sunlight fade, in endless, cloudless day. 
 
 Thou art torn from us, my brother — and our hearts are bleeding still, 
 Yet, taught by thee, in silence bow to Heaven's all righteous will; 
 And bless the grace which to thy life such heavenly radiance gave, 
 To cheer us while on earth we walk, and light us through the grave. 
 
 Thou art gone before us, brother— yet we have no tears to shed, 
 .ti^ For we know that thou art numbered with the blessed, holy dead ; 
 And, in that " continuing city," to which we may fail to come. 
 Hast found, through faith in Christ our Lord, a welcome and a home. 
 
 G. W. D. 
 
POETICAL REMAINS 
 
 FiiKDEHicK W. Hoffman was a resident in Baltimore, Md. In tiie spring 
 of 1833, he joined the Junior Class (then Sophomore) of Harvard University ; 
 but was soon obliged to relinquish his studies on account of ill health. He left 
 the University, and by the advice of his medical attendants sailed for Europe, 
 in the expectation that a sea voyage would renovate his broken constitution. 
 But such was not God's will. He died at Lyons, France, December 1833. 
 The character of Hoffman was an uncommon one. Although only seventeen 
 years old when he died, he was a communicant of the Episcopal Church, and a 
 sincere, devoted, and humble follower of the blessed Jesus. His religion was 
 manifest in every action of his life, and cast a bright colouring over every thing 
 which he did. His gentleness, his humility, his sweetness of disposition won 
 the hearts of all, and all admired in him that beauty of holinesss which was ever 
 conspicuous. Possessing talents of the highest order, sanctified by the Holt 
 Spirit, sincerely and ardently attached to the Episcopal Church, he would 
 most probably, had his life been spared, have been called to minister at her altars, 
 where his usefulness would have been almost boundless. But God seclh not 
 as man seeth, and prematurely for all but himself he has gone home. A foreign 
 tomb has closed over his remains, but his memory will long live fondly em- 
 balmed in the hearts of his sorrowing relatives and friends, and of all who knew 
 him. Will you permit a friend and classmate to offer the following tribute, vain 
 offering though it be, to his beloved memory ] 
 
 To F. W. H. 
 
 Beloved ! how brief thy race has been, 
 
 How soon thy course is o'er, 
 How soon thou'st left this world of sin 
 
 For yon celestial shore. 
 Away from thy loved home so blest, 
 
 Thy spirit fled to God ; 
 And thy pale form is laid at rest 
 
 Beneath a foreign sod. 
 
 Together we have often stray'd 
 Through grove and flowery dale, 
 
270 POETICAL REMAINS. 
 
 Together we have knelt and pray'd 
 Before the chancel's rail. 
 
 Ah 1 days too blest I forever gone ! 
 How swiftly have ye flown ! 
 
 Thy gentle walk on earth is done. 
 And I am left alone. 
 
 Yet not alone, for One is near 
 
 To sooth my troubled soul ; 
 He deigns my plaintive moan to hear, 
 
 He hastens to console. 
 And pent within the dreary tomb, 
 
 Thy accents will not stay, 
 But issue from its gathering gloom 
 
 To light me ou my way. 
 
 Across the dark Atlantic's wave. 
 
 By angry tempests stirr'd, 
 Thy voice from out thy distant grave 
 
 In gentlest notes is heard. 
 It comes to cheer me as I weep, 
 
 In kind consoling strain ; 
 And whispers that thou dost but sleep, 
 
 And soon will wake again. 
 
 It tells me of a brighter shore, 
 
 A brighter world than ours, 
 Where thorns and briars lurk no more 
 
 Amid the blooming flowers. 
 It bids me to my Maker turn 
 
 Ere yet my lamp is dim ; 
 The joys of this poor earth to spurn. 
 
 And cling alone to Him. 
 
 It murmurs thou art happy now, 
 It bids my grief be still. 
 
 And tells me meekly I must bow 
 Before our Father's will: 
 
POETICAL REMAINS. 271 
 
 Dear friend, farewell ! thou 'st reach'd thy home, 
 
 And O ! may we soon meet, 
 Where sin and sorrow never come, 
 
 At our dear Saviour's feet. 
 
 TO MY DEAR SISTER CATHERINE, 
 
 ON THE DAY SHE WAS BAPTIZED : 
 
 AVITH A BIBLE. 
 
 "Silver and gold have I none; but such as I have give I thee. 
 
 Farewell, sweet sisler, from thy father's home. 
 
 And the dear household hearth, thou goest forth. 
 
 To tread alone that darkling wilderness. 
 
 That scene of mingled light and shade, the world. 
 
 Yet not alone. My heart goes forth with thee, 
 
 And shares, and long will share, thy every woe. 
 
 And with its love perchance will cheer thee on, 
 
 Amid the sorrows which beset thy path. 
 
 Yet not alone. For God goes with thee, dear — 
 
 That friend ivho sticketh closer than a brother, 
 
 To-day, and yesterday, and evermore, 
 
 In love to thee, unchanging and unchanged ; 
 
 He will support thee by his tender care. 
 
 He will be ever constant at thy side. 
 
 To dry thy tears, to sooth thy aching heart ; 
 
 For when on earth, in nnortal guise, he knew 
 
 Of all the bitterness of human griefs. 
 
 And wept o'er human sorrows : and above. 
 
 He still is touched with our infirmities. 
 
 And stoops from heaven, to comfort and console. 
 
 Farewell, dear sister, take this little gift. 
 This frail memorial of thy brother's love, 
 I have no gold or diamonds to bestow, 
 I have no pearls to deck thy shining hair, 
 
272 POETICAL REMAINS. 
 
 Or chains to hang about thy snowy neck: 
 
 And yet I bring an oftering costlier far 
 Than all the gold from Ophir's shores e'er brought ; 
 The book of books — the holy word of God — 
 Whose every page is radiant with truths, 
 Which ancient sages would have died to learn ; 
 Which telis of a world ruined, yet so loved 
 That Jesus came to save it with his blood ; 
 Which whispers peace to every troubled soul, 
 And bids it cast its hopes, its all on Heaven. 
 For my sake keep it, read it for thine own. 
 
 Farewell, dear sister'; may thy Saviour go 
 Before thy steps in all thy journeyings, 
 And bring thee back in safety to thy home : 
 And, when at last the final summons comes, 
 Conduct thee to his fadeless bowers of bliss, 
 Where partings are unknown, and sad adieus, 
 Words never uttered by angelic lips. 
 
 SIX DAYS IN A DISTRICT SCHOOL. 
 
 1. 
 
 Experience saith, that life hath much of sorrow 
 
 Blended with bliss. I know the tale is true, 
 And from my heart's secluded griefs could borrow 
 
 Unnumbered proofs, and spread them to the view ; 
 To-day's false dreams, the blighting of the morrow 
 
 Which steals from hope its last decaying hue, 
 AflTection spurned, the loss and want of pelf, 
 Are ills, which all have fallen on myself. 
 
 II. 
 And now — yet nut for fame, or this world's glory, 
 
 Those meteors dim, those momentary tapers, 
 I will unfold a brief but mournful story, 
 
 Worthy to be recorded in the papers, 
 
 i 
 
35 
 
 POETICAL REMAINS. 273 
 
 With dire mishaps, pests, mad dogs, murders gory, 
 
 Elections, scandal, mobocratic capers ; 
 A tale more meet to make the bosom bleed. 
 Than e'en the woes of Saint Rebecca Reed. 
 
 III. 
 In the first month of winter — old December — 
 
 Of thirty-three — to me a year of fates ; 
 No, I am out — if rightly 1 remember, 
 
 ('Tis well to be particular in dates) — 
 'Twas on Thanksgiving day, in sere November, 
 
 That honoured feast, when murder foul awaits 
 The barn-yard host, and people go to meeting, 
 But chiefly show their gratitude by eating. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The varied bounties of the dying year. 
 
 As if they meant to keep a six months' fast, 
 
 That I commenced in trembling and in fear. 
 To tread life's stage — by fickle fortune cast 
 
 To a new part — in pedagogic gear, 
 
 (My first appearance, and I trust my last) 
 
 In , but I must not, dare not, name the town : 
 
 The mob would certainly go burn it down. 
 
 V. 
 
 The town, the county, state — no matter where — 
 Nor boots it much that dangerous was the way, 
 
 That storms around me, as I journeyed there. 
 In fury howled to wake the sleeping spray. 
 
 That heavy snow-clouds fringed the upper air. 
 And hid from sight the radiance of the day ; 
 
 But being there, the Muse will deign to tell 
 
 Of all the sorrows which my lot befell. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Upon the side of an o'ertowering hill. 
 
 Crowned at its summit by a birchen wood, 
 
 Laved by the waters of a tiny rill, 
 
 Which there commenced its journey to the flood 
 
 Of mighty ocean ; framed with little skill, 
 
274 POETICAL REMAINS. 
 
 And gray with years, the village school house stood, 
 Where 1 the teacher's duties first essayed, 
 And then (Heaven grant!) for ever left the trade. 
 
 vir. 
 Alas for memory! if I e'er forget 
 
 The bitter trials of that opening hour. 
 Whose phantom horrors hover round me yet, 
 
 When I assumed the village teacher's power; 
 A power which vanished when six suns had set, 
 
 As frail and fragile as the vernal flower, 
 Type of the lordliest monarch's potent sway 
 Which nourishes, by its own growth, decay. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 My throne, my empire, and my subjects all 
 In blended visions fill the mental eye — 
 
 Some lengthy pupils, as a steeple tall. 
 
 Some little shavers, hardly two feet high — 
 
 Sad, noisy urchins, fated to appal 
 
 My timid nerves, and patience eke to try ; 
 
 And some fair maidens — messengers of light, 
 
 My only consolations and delight. 
 
 IX. 
 
 All these I taught; the young in childish lore, 
 To say their letters, spell, and read, and see 
 The pictured wonders which the primer bore — ■ 
 
 Deep source of joy to lisping infancy! 
 The old I bade to loftier themes to soar. 
 
 Or scan the mazes of the rule of three; 
 And once I set a copy, made a pen. 
 Tasks which 1 never had to do again. 
 
 X. 
 
 These too I governed; but a kindlier reign. 
 Or gentler ruler had they never known ; 
 
 The urchins sported free from every chain, 
 
 Nor dreading that, which erst in moments flown, 
 
 Had awed their hearts, and changed the merry strain 
 Of happy voices into sob and groan; 
 
POETICAL REMAINS. 275 
 
 And so 'twas whispered that my temper mild, 
 Would spare the rod, and truly spoil the child. 
 
 XI. 
 
 This may be true, but in a world where joy 
 
 Is but a shade which cometh and is not ; 
 I ne'er — despite all proverbs — will destroy 
 
 The little meted to our bitter lot; 
 Or of the fleeting pleasures of the boy 
 
 Which soon must fade, abate a single jot; 
 In merry humour let him sport to-day, 
 Long ere the morrow all must flit away. 
 
 XII. 
 
 The people of the town of , stupid blocks! 
 
 In anger 1 had almost told the name, 
 Rated at me as lax and heterodox. 
 
 And all unfit man's restless soul to tame, 
 Since loth to load its fleshy shell with knocks ; 
 
 Then heaped a brother pedagogue with blame, 
 Who spurning ferule, birch, or leathern thongs. 
 Chastised a rebel truant with the tongs. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Indignant at their treatment, I resigned. 
 And to my pupils sighed a parting speech, 
 
 By art well fitted to convince the mind. 
 
 Or the deep chambers of the heart to reach ; 
 
 And one it touched — a little maiden kind, 
 (That little maid I always loved — to teach) 
 
 Started and pallid grew ihe tale to hear. 
 
 And from her eyelid brushed away a tear. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Dear little maid, with eye of heavenly hue, 
 That parting tear my memory treasures ye(, 
 
 Which gently falling like a drop of dew, 
 The dusty paths of life's bleak road to wet : 
 
 To me was given a sign of sorrow true, 
 A token kind, I shall not soon forget. 
 
 That and some pelf — vile trash ! were all the gams 
 
 Proffered to soothe my sorrows and my pains. 
 
276 POETICAL REMAINS. 
 
 XV. 
 
 The man of Uz had trials — but I doubt, 
 If e'er a school Job's gentle temper tried ; 
 
 Or being tried, if e'er his patience stout, 
 This fell assault, this tempest could abide ; 
 
 Or if commencing he would keep one out ; 
 But points like these no mortal can decide — 
 
 Enough to know, of all the ills accurst, 
 
 That haunt poor man — school keeping is the worst. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 " To teach the young idea how to shoot," 
 For those who like it, most delightful task ! 
 
 Theirs be the labor and the well earned fruit ! 
 But for myself a diflerent fate I ask ; 
 
 Yea I would rather live forever mute, 
 Do direst penance, wear the Iron Mask, 
 
 Or be some silly monarch's sillier fool, 
 
 Than keep six days another district school. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 'Tis well to end a poem with a saw 
 
 Or musty proverb, and to bend the case 
 
 To prove and illustrate some general law, 
 Or mooted point in clearer light to place, 
 
 Or sage conclusion happily to draw, 
 And thus the previous blemishes erase; 
 
 The which a very proper rule I deem. 
 
 And thus apply it to my present theme. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 All power is transient ; time's destroying wand 
 Dissolves the mightiest empires into dust ; 
 
 Wrests the stern sceptre from the proudest hand, 
 And dims the jewelled coronet with rust, 
 
 Sweeps lordliest cities from the fairest land. 
 Showing to man how frail all mortal trust ; 
 
 The monarch's reign, the humblest ruler's sway. 
 
 Alike are but the pageants of a day. 
 
POETICAL REMAINS. 277 
 
 THE LOVER STUDENT. 
 
 With a burning brow and weary limb, 
 
 From the parting glance of day, 
 The student sits in his study dim, 
 
 Till the east with dawn is gray; 
 But what are those musty tomes to him ? 
 ^ His spirit is far away. 
 
 He seeks, in fancy, the halls of light 
 
 Where his lady leads the dance, 
 Where the festal bowers are gleaming bright, 
 
 Lit up by her sunny glance; 
 And he thinks of her the live-long nio;ht — 
 
 She thinketh of him — perchance ! 
 
 Yet many a gallant knight is by. 
 
 To dwell on each gushing lone. 
 To drink the smile of that love-lit eye. 
 
 Which should beam on him alone; 
 To woo with the vow, the glance, and sigh, 
 
 The heart that he claims his own. 
 
 The student bends o'er the snowy page. 
 
 And he grasps his well-worn pen, 
 That he may write him a lesson sage. 
 
 To read to the sons of men ; 
 But softer lessons his thoughts engage, 
 
 And he flings it down again. 
 
 The student's orisons must arise 
 
 At the vesper's solemn peal, 
 So hegazeth up to the tranquil skies 
 
 Which no angel forms reveal, 
 But an earthly seraph's laughing eyes 
 
 Mid his whispered prayers will steal. 
 
278 POETICAL REMAINS. 
 
 In vain his spirit would now recur 
 
 To his little study dim, 
 In vain the notes of the vesper stir 
 
 In the cloister cold and grim; 
 Through the live-long night he thinks of her- 
 
 Doth his lady think of him? 
 
 Then up he looks to the clear cold moon, 
 But no calm to him she brings ; 
 
 His troubled spirit is out of tune, 
 And loosened it countless strings ; 
 
 Yet in the quiet of night's still noon 
 To his Lady love he sings : 
 
 ' Thou in thy bower 
 
 And I in my cell. 
 Through each festal hour 
 
 Divided must dwell ; 
 Yet we're united 
 
 Though forms are apart. 
 Since love's vows plighted 
 
 Have bound us in heart. 
 
 ♦ Proud sons of fashion 
 
 Now murmur to thee 
 Accents of passion, 
 
 All treason to me ; 
 Others are gazing 
 
 On that glance divine ; 
 Others are praising — 
 
 Are their words like mine ? 
 
 Heed not the wooer 
 
 With soft vows exprest ; 
 
 One heart beats truer — 
 Thou know'st in whose breast. 
 
POETICAL REMAINS. 279 
 
 To him thou hast spoken 
 
 Words not lightly told; 
 His heart would be broken, 
 
 If thine should grow cold ! 
 
 ' The stars faintly glimmer 
 
 And fade into day, 
 This taper burns dimmer 
 
 With vanishing ray ; 
 Oh never thus fading, 
 
 May fortune grow pale 
 With sorrow-clouds' shading, 
 
 Or plighted faith fail ! 
 
 ' Hush my wild numbers ! 
 
 Dawn breaketh above — 
 Soft be thy slumbers, 
 
 Adieu to thee love ! 
 Sad vigils keeping, 
 
 I think upon thee. 
 And dream of thee sleeping 
 
 My own Melanie I ' 
 
 THE DYING POET. 
 
 With gentle motion, swaying to and fro, 
 Dimly revealing half the scene below. 
 Through the night watches weary vigil keeping 
 O'er the pale form beneath his faint beams sleeping, 
 Flickering and flaring in the night air damp 
 Which breathes around, an antique pendant lamp 
 With sickly lustre gilds the shadowy gloom. 
 The phantom horrors of the silent room. 
 Where, calm and willing as a little flower 
 Shutting its petals at the twilight hour. 
 
280 POETICAL REMAINS. 
 
 Soft as the breeze that cools the summer day, 
 A weary spirit breathes itself away. 
 
 Approach yon couch, and gaze upon that form 
 
 Of manly beauty, wrecked by many a storm 
 
 Of passion wild. The chilly midnight air 
 
 Plays with the clusters of the raven hair 
 
 That shades and veils his lofty brow from view, 
 
 Contrasting sadly with that pallid hue 
 
 Which fast absorbs the fading hectic streak, 
 
 By Death's cold finger stamp'd upon his cheek. 
 
 That glorious orb — that soul-lit eye is hid 
 
 By the long lashes of its drooping lid : 
 
 No fearful pangs his wasted frame convulse, 
 
 But throbbing heart — the wildly fluttering pulse, — 
 
 The sudden heaving of the quivering breast, 
 
 Like ocean waking from a transient rest,— 
 
 The half-drawn sigh — the quick and gasping breath,- 
 
 Proclaim too well the stealthy work of death. 
 
 He wakes — his cheek assumes a sudden flush 
 Of transient life — he speaks — and like the gush 
 Of limpid waters as they gently flow 
 From verdant hills to greener vales below, 
 And sleeping lakes by tempests seldom stirred, 
 Breathes on his lip — the Poet's dying word. 
 
 It comes — the hour so coveted and sought 
 
 Through all the changes of the vanished years. 
 
 With shame and glory — sorrow — pleasure fraught. 
 Illumed by smiles — or dimmed by gushing tears! 
 
 And shall I play the coward now, or shrink 
 
 From the dim region's brink ? 
 
 Why should I shrink ? I have no fear of change. 
 Since from the little sphere which gave me birth 
 In world's ideal I have learned to range; 
 
 H 
 
POETICAL REMAINS. 281 
 
 Or if at times I sought tiiis lower earth, 
 'T was as the bird by weariness oppressed, 
 But for a moment's rest. 
 
 The world — the world of guilty men I loathed, — 
 
 And so I sought another to create ; 
 There my soul's thoughts in living forms were clothed ; 
 
 Then dreamed myself the conqueror of fate ; 
 Vain dream ! these menial creatures could rebel. 
 And make my earth — a hell. 
 
 And thither earthly phantoms found their way, 
 
 With damned thoughts obscured by accents sweet ; 
 
 Of immortality much muttered they, 
 
 And proffered fading laurels at my feet; 
 
 And then I bartered soul and all — oh shame ! 
 
 For perishable fame ! 
 
 Giving the secrets of my breast to others 
 
 For the base incense of the vulgar crowd, 
 Whose very souls might hail the worms as brothers : 
 
 But yet with such idolatry grew proud, 
 And for a season almost dreamed I trod 
 This hated earth — a God I 
 
 I too became Idolater in turn, 
 
 And bowed my heart before a lovely Ibrm 
 Of that same clay, 1 had been wont to spurn ; 
 
 Re-touched the mould with fancy's colours warm, 
 Then from the world poetic fire I stole, 
 And gave the form a soul. 
 
 Investing it with outward beauty rich. 
 
 And mental loveliness, and all things fair — 
 
 Ten thousand attributes of glory, which 
 Existed but in fevered thought — yet there 
 
 A willing slave, my inmost soul I poured, 
 
 And my own work adored. 
 36 
 
282 POETICAL REMAINS. 
 
 And how repaid this exercise of art ? 
 
 'T is an old tale, oft told upon the lyre ; 
 The vulture ever eating at the heart 
 
 Which still endures, unable to expire; 
 The chains of passion that forever bind 
 The energies of the mind ! 
 
 Such am I left ; my heart has burned to dust 
 With the fierce flames, which flicker to go out 
 
 And leave it lifeless; 'reft of every trust, 
 
 All hope extinct — all faith obscured by doubt; 
 
 Without a tear to dew my burning eye, 
 
 I have but now — to die ! 
 
 Welcome ye terrors which my soul defies ! 
 
 No pangs more deep than those which rankle here,- 
 No other hell has bitterer agonies 
 
 Than this crushed heart — oh ! what have I to fear? 
 Nought — nought — e'en blest with life of endless pain, 
 So not these woes again ! 
 
 Back to its source the life-tide slowly steals; 
 
 How now my Spirit freezes with despair ! 
 How with strange images this sick brain reels ! 
 
 No moment left — the season's past for prayer — 
 Yet this stern agony claims one request — 
 Father — oblivion — rest ! 
 
 The struggle's o'er — that heart is stilled and crushed, 
 
 Those fearful tones like dying winds are hushed ; 
 
 Heavy with death the drooping eye-lids close, 
 
 And the pale features sink to stern repose. 
 
 Oh ! think not such the feverish accents wild 
 
 By fancy forced from fiction's imaged child. 
 
 For thus too oft the sweetest poesy floats 
 
 Upon the air with spirit-stirring notes. 
 
 From harp with fibres of the bosom strung, 
 
 \\ hose music by fierce agony is wrung. 
 
POETICAL REMAINS. 283 
 
 Whose ever}' chord swept o'er by hand of pain 
 Vibrates responsive to some mournful strain, 
 In the dark soul strange happiness awakes, 
 One moment quivers — and forever breaks! 
 Yet — strange delusion! breathings such as these 
 Delight the soul, and craving fancy please, — 
 And we, like urchins on the storm-white shore, 
 Who smile to hear the breaker's sullen roar, 
 Meanwhile forgetting that the angry wave 
 Drags some proud vessel to an ocean grave, 
 List to such strains, nor deem that they can be 
 The echoes sad from Passion^ s troubled sea. 
 Whose fearful waves, whose wildly-dashing surge 
 Resound lost Hope's or Love's expiring dirge, — 
 Whose tide sweeps on with force that owns no check, 
 And bears the Heart a storm-worn, shattered wreck, 
 Which for a moment crowns the billow's crest, 
 Then with wild music sinks to awful rest. 
 
 MISSIONARY HYMN. 
 Many shall run to and fro, and knowledge shall be increased. — Daniel xii. 4, 
 
 Where rolls the stormy billow 
 
 Along the troubled deep, 
 Where verdant prairies pillov/ 
 
 The sun-beams as they sleep. 
 Where hills with heaven arc blending, 
 
 Where spreads the dreary waste. 
 Where torrents are descending, 
 
 The gospel heralds haste. 
 
 Where perfume-breathing flowers 
 
 Shed fragrance on the gales, 
 That sweep through rosy bowers 
 
 Of sunny Persia's vales, 
 Where o'er the snow-clad mounlains 
 
§84 POETICAL REMAINS. 
 
 Swells China's busy hum, 
 Where flow those olden fountains, 
 The gladsome tidings come. 
 
 The forest dark is hushing 
 
 The murmur of the blast, 
 While melodies are gushing 
 
 Unknown in ages past ; 
 And softly, sweetly stealing 
 
 Upon the desert air, 
 The Sabbath bells are pealing 
 
 To wake the voice of prayer. 
 
 Old Grecian temples hoary 
 
 Decayed with vanished time, 
 Shrines famed in song and story 
 
 Reverberate that chime; 
 And louder, louder swelling 
 
 It sweeps o'er Afric's shore. 
 With gentle music quelling 
 
 The lion's angry roar. 
 
 Lord ! in thy mercy speeding, 
 
 Thy chosen heralds guide. 
 That they in triumph leading 
 
 Thy people scattered wide. 
 From every clime and nation 
 
 May gather them in one, 
 Till earth with adoration 
 
 Hails the eternal Son — 
 
 Till in each mortal dwelling, 
 
 As in thy realms above. 
 High songs of praise are swelling 
 
 To hymn redeeming love : 
 Till every home's an altar, 
 
 Where holy hearts set free 
 In service never falter. 
 
 Unchanged in love to Thee. 
 
POETICAL REMAINS. 285 
 
 SONNET, 
 
 SUGGESTED BY THE EPITAPH OF THE LAMENTED LYDE. 
 
 Here sleeps a herald of the Cross, whose voice 
 
 In hallowed fanes was never lifted up. 
 Whose hands ne'er blessed the sacramental cup, 
 
 Nor brake the bread, the faithful to rejoice ; 
 And yet he panted with an holy zeal 
 
 To cross the storm-white wave, and fearless show 
 The countless worshippers of fabled Fo, 
 
 That fount whose waters all pollution heal. 
 With living faith and Apostolic love. 
 
 The youthful warrior had prepared to roam. 
 When the sad mandate issued from above, 
 
 To stay his steps, and call him to his home : 
 Mourner, weep not ! our Father's will be done ! 
 
 He hath some other work to give his son. 
 
 THOUGHTS FOR THE CITY. 
 
 Out on the city's hum ! 
 My spirit would flee from the haunts of men, 
 To where the woodland and leafy glen 
 
 Are eloquently dumb. 
 
 These dull brick walls which span 
 My daily walks, and which shut me in ; 
 These crowded streets, with their busy din — 
 
 They tell too much of man. 
 
 O! for those dear wild flowers. 
 Which in the meadows so brightly grew. 
 Where the honey-bee, and blithe bird flew 
 
 That gladden'd boyhood's hours. 
 
286 POETICAL REMAINS. 
 
 Out on these chains of flesh ! 
 Binding the pilgrim, who fain would roam, 
 To where kind nature hath made her home, 
 
 In bovvers so green and fresh. 
 
 But is not nature here? 
 From these troubled scenes look up and view 
 The orb of day, through the firmament blue, 
 
 Pursue his bright career. 
 
 Or, when the night-dews fall, 
 Go watch the moon, with her gentle glance 
 Flitting over that clear expanse — 
 
 Her own broad star-lit hall. 
 
 Mortal the earth may mar, 
 And blot out its beauties one by one ; 
 But he cannot dim the fadeless sun. 
 
 Or quench a single star. 
 
 And o'er the dusky town, 
 The greater light that ruleth the day. 
 And the heav'nly host, in their bright array 
 
 Look gloriously down. 
 
 So mid the hollow mirth, 
 The din and strife of the crowded mart ; 
 We may ever lift up the eye and heart 
 
 To scenes above the earth. 
 
 Blest thought, so kindly given ! 
 That though he toils with his boasted might, 
 Man cannot shut from his brother'' s sight 
 
 The things and thoughts oj Heaven! 
 
POETICAL REMAINS. 287 
 
 THE CROSS. 
 
 " When we rise, the Cross; when we lie down, the Cross; in our thoughts, 
 the Cross; in our studies, the Cross; every where and at every time, the Cross, 
 — shining more glorious than the sun. — St. Clirysostom. 
 
 The Cross, the Cross ! Oh, bid it rise 
 
 Mid clouds about it curled, 
 In bold relief against the skies. 
 
 Beheld by all the world ; 
 A sign to myriads far and wide. 
 
 On every holy fane, 
 Meet emblem of the Crucified 
 
 For our transgressions slain. 
 
 The Cross, the Cross I with solemn vow 
 
 And fervent prayer to bless, 
 Upon the new born infant's brow 
 
 The hallowed seal impress; 
 A token^ that in coming years, 
 
 All else esteem'd but loss. 
 He will press on through foes and fears, 
 
 The soldier of the Cross. 
 
 The Cross, the Cross 1 upon the heart 
 
 Oh ! seal the signet well, 
 An amulet against each art 
 
 And stratagem of hell ; 
 A hope, when other hopes shall cease, 
 
 And worth all hopes beside, — 
 The Christian's blessedness and peace. 
 
 His joy and only pride. ^ 
 
 • See Baptismal ofEce. 
 
 2 God forbid that I should glory, save in the Cross of our Lord Jesus Christ. 
 —St. Paul. 
 
288 POETICAL REMAINS. 
 
 The Cross ! the Cross ! ye heralds blest 
 
 Who in the saving name, 
 Go forth to lands with sin opprest, 
 
 The Cross of Christ proclaim ! 
 And so, mid idols lifted high, 
 
 In truth and love reveal'd. 
 It may be seen by every eye, 
 
 And stricken souls be heal'd.* 
 
 The Cross ! dear Church, the world is dark, 
 
 And wrapt in shades of night, — 
 Yet, lift but up within thy ark 
 
 This source of living light, 
 This emblem of our heavenly birth 
 
 And claim to things divine, — 
 So thou shalt go through all the earth, 
 
 And conquer in this sign.^ 
 
 THE CHURCH. 
 " To whom should we go? Thou hast the words of eternal life." 
 
 Mother ! I am sometimes told 
 
 By the wanderers in the dark, 
 Fleeing from thine ancient fold, 
 
 I must seek some newer ark. 
 Thou art worn, they say, with years, 
 
 Quench'd the lustre of thine eye. 
 Whence no blessed beam appears 
 
 Bright with radiance from on hisfh. 
 
 1 As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of 
 Man be lifted up, that whosoever beUeveth in him shall not perish, but have 
 everlasting life. — Jesiis Christ. 
 
 2 In hoc signo vincis. The inscription on the Cross which appeared to 
 Constantino. 
 
37 
 
 POETICAL REMAINS. 289 
 
 Mollier ! then 1 humbly say 
 
 To the blinded sons of strife. 
 Whither shall I go away '? 
 
 She hath precious words of life. 
 She hath watched with tender care, 
 
 Led me through life's thorny ways, 
 Taught me many a hallowed prayer, 
 
 Many a fervent hymn of praise. 
 
 Weeping by the blood-stain'd Cross, 
 
 She hath whisper'd at my side, 
 Son ! count ev'ry thing but dross, 
 
 So thou win the Lamb who died ! 
 She will guide me o'er the wave, 
 
 Pointing to the rich reward ; 
 Then at last beyond the grave, 
 
 Give me, faithful, to her Lord. 
 
 Mother ! can I ever turn 
 
 From thy home, thy peaceful ark, 
 Where the lights celestial burn, 
 
 When all else beside is dark? 
 Rather, those who turn away 
 
 Let me seek with love to win, 
 Till Christ's scatter'd sheep astray 
 
 To thy fold are gather'd in. 
 
 THE DEATH OF MOSES. 
 
 "No man knoweth of his sepulchre unto this day. 
 
 He gazed o'er all the scenes below, 
 The mount on which he stood, 
 
 Where rivers in their silv'ry flow 
 Hied on to ocean's flood ; 
 
 Where harvests waved o'er many a field, 
 
 That glitter'd like a warrior's shield 
 
290 POETICAL REMAINS. 
 
 Of richly burnished gold; 
 Where summer zephyrs softly swept 
 Through woods with verdure deck'd, and wepi 
 
 That he might but behold. 
 
 But when he thought how greenly there 
 
 His people's homes would stand, 
 How soon the melody of prayer 
 
 Would swell from all the land ; 
 What myriads yet to be would breathe 
 The perfumed air, reclined beneath 
 
 The vines their hands did rear — 
 A smile, like some lone star-beam blest. 
 That quivers on a wave's white crest, 
 
 Illumed the prophet's tear. 
 
 He died — unbent his noble form, 
 
 Unquench'd his glorious eye. 
 Though many a vanish'd winter's storni 
 
 Had coldly swept him by ; 
 No fell disease, whose venom'd sting 
 Hath poison'd oft life's purest spring. 
 
 Had made that form its prey ; 
 So when at last death's angel came. 
 Sternly from out an iron frame 
 
 The life was wrung away. 
 
 He slept — a chosen few convey 'd. 
 
 Restoring earth her trust, 
 His ashes to a verdant glade, 
 
 And left them — dust to dust. 
 No pilgrims came in after-years 
 With sorrowing hearts and gushing tears; 
 
 No storied tomb or stone 
 To other ages marks the spot: 
 His sepulchre, by man forgot, 
 
 To God is only known. 
 
POETICAL REMAINS. 291 
 
 Oh ! thus — upon my sight expand, 
 
 When life's brief space is fill'd, 
 Some glimpses of the promised land 
 
 Death's darkling paths to gild; 
 Some hopes, if I alas! must grieve 
 The world in darkness veil'd to leave, 
 
 That soon that moon will shine, 
 When all the tribes of earth shall haste, 
 Pale pilgrims o'er this dreary waste, 
 
 To seek the realms divine. 
 
 Thus, too, when the last sands depart, 
 
 And through its wonted track 
 The life-tide to the quivering heart 
 
 Is coldly hurrying back. 
 The mental eye unquench'd nor dim, 
 The soul unbowed — unsear'd — like him 
 
 May I return to rest : 
 And if, where waving tree-tops close, 
 Loved hands may yield me to repose, 
 
 I shall be doubly blest. 
 
 And what if cold oblivion's shade 
 
 Around my tomb must fall, 
 And none, as generations fade. 
 
 My memory e'er recall ? 
 That slumber will not be less sweet 
 Because no lips my name repeat; 
 
 For oh ! what were it worth 
 To be remember'd e'en a day 
 When all we loved have passed away, 
 
 And perish'd from the earth. 
 
292 POETICAL REMAINS. 
 
 A WARM SUNNY DAY IN WINTER. 
 
 So bright, so beautiful the day 
 
 So sunny and serene, 
 I almost think the month of May 
 
 Has stolen in unseen; 
 And hoary winter flies the while 
 
 Across the stormy wave, 
 To lose the lustre of her smile 
 
 In some dark northern cave. 
 
 The gurgling rivulets gaily run, 
 
 Freed from their icy chain, 
 As if they deern'd the summer sun 
 
 Shone on the earth again ; 
 And swiftly from each hill and dale, 
 
 Where'er is gently felt 
 The warm breath of the southern gale, 
 
 The snowy mantles melt. 
 
 Such sunny days in northern climes. 
 
 Where reigns the winter drear, 
 Gleam brightly through the storms at times, 
 
 The weary heart to cheer ; 
 And many a soothing hope they bring, 
 
 And many a tale they breathe, 
 Of all the coming joys, when spring 
 
 Her leafy crowns shall wreathe. 
 
 Thus sometimes to the Christian's soul, 
 
 E'en in a world like this, 
 Where clouds of sin and sorrow roll, 
 
 A foretaste of the bliss 
 Reserved for all the saints of heaven 
 
 In realms of endless day, 
 Is kindly for a moment given 
 
 To cheer him on his way. 
 
POETICAL REMAINS. 293 
 
 LOVE THEE TOO WELL. 
 
 Composed on being warned not to love the Church too well. 
 (a fact.) 
 
 Love thee too well, dear mother Church ! 
 
 And can it ever be? 
 Love thee too well, my Saviour's bride, 
 For whom he stoop'd to earth, and died 
 
 In mortal agony ? 
 
 Love thee too well, who, when these feet 
 
 Life's early pathways trod, 
 Hover'dst about my cradle bed. 
 And onward thence my soul hast led. 
 
 To seek the peace of Goo ! 
 
 Love thee too well ! it could not be : 
 
 For can 1 e'er repay. 
 The love which in thy bosom glow'd, 
 And blessings day by day bestow'd. 
 
 To light me on my way ? 
 
 At yonder consecrated fount 
 
 That love was first reveal'd ; 
 There shelter'd in thy tender arms, 
 My brow was laved with holy charms — 
 
 With Heaven's own signet seal'd. 
 
 Nor ended then thy watchful care, 
 
 But still thou led'st me on. 
 And bad'st me at the chancel bow, 
 And kneeling there, myself avow 
 
 God's steadfast champion. 
 
 And ever as the season comes, 
 My steps still there are led, 
 
294 POETICAL REMAINS. 
 
 Where thou, with all a mother's care, 
 Dost for thy children's wants prepare 
 The heaven-descended bread. 
 
 Thou early taught'st my infant lips 
 Thy strains of prayer and praise; 
 And rais'dst my heart from earthly toys, 
 To look for higher, holier joys. 
 By thy celestial lays. 
 
 And as the rolling year glides on. 
 
 With thee I duly hie. 
 To see my Lord at Bethlehem, 
 Or crown'd with thorny diadem, 
 
 On gloomy Calvary ; 
 
 Or view him in the garden tomb, 
 
 Secured by seal and stone ; 
 Or mark him rend death's icy chain, 
 And rising upward, mount again 
 His everlasting throne. 
 
 Untaught by thy maternal love, 
 
 Where would this soul have been? 
 O'er schism's troubled billows tost. 
 Or 'chance, alas ! for ever lost 
 In the dark gulf of sin. 
 
 Then, can I love thee e'er too well. 
 
 Who so hast loved me ? 
 No ! let the moments of my life 
 With deep affection all be rife, 
 
 And tender love to thee. 
 
 Let all my powers, though weak and frail, 
 
 Be ever wholly thine ; 
 Since not a gift which man can bring, 
 Would be too rich an offering. 
 
 To proffer at thy shrine. 
 
POETICAL REMAINS. 295 
 
 Keep me, O keep me, mother, then, 
 
 With thy unchanging love : 
 And when earth's final hour has come, 
 Conduct me to thy Master's home. 
 
 In brighter worlds above. 
 
 THE DEATH AT SEA. 
 
 " At length a delirium came on, in which the moving shadows cast by the 
 hanging lamp, as it swung with the heaving of the sea, were taken and greeted 
 for his distant friends." — ProJ. Palfrey s Sermon on the death of W. Chap- 
 man. 
 
 Upon his sea-tost couch the sleeper lay. 
 From home and friends and all so dear away; 
 No mother hovered o'er that dying bed 
 To cheer his heart, or soothe his aching head ; 
 No kindred there, no fondly loved ones nigh. 
 To catch the parting breath, or close the eye. 
 No kindly accents words of comfort tell. 
 Or murmur out that bitter word — farewell ; 
 Save where around his couch the seamen stood, 
 Their furrowed cheeks with manly tears bedewed, 
 And marked, with quivering lip and streaming eye. 
 That fair young flower fade away and die. 
 
 Not his, as once so fondly he had hoped. 
 When first life's prospects to his vision oped ; 
 Not his to leave the cherished household hearth 
 To wander on in learning's verdant path ; 
 Not his, with bounding spirits, hand in hand. 
 To mingle gaily with that favored band. 
 Who love the Muse's temples to explore. 
 And tread the varied haunts of classic lore. 
 Another pathway for his steps was given, 
 A sterner destiny marked out by Heaven. 
 'T was his to learn the blight of slow decay. 
 To mark the sands ebb silently away ; 
 
296 POETICAL REMAINS. 
 
 To see life's loveliest flowers sweetly bloom 
 
 Only to wither in an early tomb. 
 
 'T was his to view his prospects all displayed 
 
 In cloudless beauty — then to mark them fade ; 
 
 'T was his to taste of pleasures unalloyed, 
 
 And as he tasted, see them all destroyed ; 
 
 'T was his, in foreign scenes and climes to roam, 
 
 To meet that dreaded fate — to die from home ; 
 
 'T was his to seek the far off ocean wave 
 
 In search of health — and there to find a grave. 
 
 And there he lay, from all so dear apart. 
 
 While the life current rallied to the heart ; 
 
 The pulse grew fainter and the eye more dim, 
 
 As the death hour stole slowly over him. 
 
 From the low cabin wall a lantern hung, 
 
 Which to and fro with ceaseless motion swung, 
 
 As ever rolled the ocean's weary swell, 
 
 And its dark shadows o'er the dying fell. 
 
 Anon he started from his troubled rest, 
 
 And woke to think that he was truly blest. 
 
 He dreamed himself (oh happy dream) once more 
 
 In his loved home, upon his native shore : 
 
 He dreamed his distant friends assembled near, 
 
 His parting words and fond adieus to hear; 
 
 And that his own dear pastor, then away 
 
 Far o'er the sea, knelt at his side to pray. 
 
 For those dark shades his dying sight deceived, 
 
 And his pale lips these heartfelt accents breathed — 
 
 " Oh ! mother, dearest mother, is it thou 
 Who watchest anxiously about my bed. 
 Whose gentle hand so soothes my burning brow, 
 Whose tender arm supports this throbbing head? 
 Oh ! it is sweet in this dark hour of fear, 
 Those thrilling tones to hear. 
 
 " And ye are there, brothers and sisters loved, 
 Gathered in sorrow at this scene of woe ; 
 
POETICAL REMAINS. 297 
 
 Thus far through earth together we have roved, 
 But lo the hour has come that I must go ; 
 Yet e'en in death, 't is bliss to hear ye tell 
 That last, short, fond farewell. 
 
 " And thou dear pastor of my childhood's day, 
 Thou, who since first life's wilderness I trod, 
 Hast led me on through wisdom's pleasant way, 
 To seek the path that leadelh home to God. 
 Thou with thy words of blessedness art by. 
 To teach me how to die. 
 
 " Cold grows this heart, my mother, and life's tide 
 From its blue veins and channels ebbeth fast ; 
 But thou art keeping vigil at my side ; 
 And all the bitterness of death is past. 
 It robs his sting of half its agony 
 To fall asleep by thee. 
 
 "I deemed myself upon the ocean wave. 
 
 Thank God ! 't was biit a dream ; and I am blest 
 
 In my own native land to find a grave, 
 
 And 'mid my kindred thus to sink to rest. 
 
 I thank Thee, Father, since this hour must come, 
 
 That I may die at home." 
 
 So passed his pure and gentle soul away, 
 
 To leave that pallid form a heap of clay ; 
 
 So the young dreamer slept his last long sleep, 
 
 While ai his accents wild the seamen weep. 
 
 Oh, if in dim futurity a fate 
 
 As sad as his my wayworn feet await; 
 
 If strangers stand about my bed of death 
 
 To close my eyes and catch my parting breath ; 
 
 If loved ones may not hear my dying call. 
 
 And strangers' hands must sooth my sable pall ; 
 
 And if by heaven decreed, it cannot be 
 38 
 
298 POETICAL REMAINS. 
 
 That I may know the sweet reality ; 
 
 Still may such visions cheer that parting hour, 
 
 Like angel visitors from starry bower ; 
 
 Still may I fancy friendly tones I hear, 
 
 And friendly faces at my side appear; 
 
 Still may the fond delusion o'er me come, 
 
 Like him, at least to dream 1 die at home. 
 
 THE HUMMING BIRD AND THE ARTIFICIAL FLOWERS. 
 
 The fact related in these lines occurred in a southern city a few months since. 
 The humming bird left his nest at dawn, 
 And hied him out in the early morn, 
 To sip the dews from each perfumed flower 
 Which opes its leaves at the sunrise hour, 
 O'er waving woodlands and verdant dales. 
 O'er fields where murmur the fragrant gales, 
 From his own dear garden-home away, 
 He merrily flew the live long day. 
 
 And just at twilight he deem'd it best 
 
 To hie again to his little nest ; 
 
 And as o'er his home he hover'd nigh, 
 
 A garland of roses caught his eye, 
 
 Not slumbering soft on a mossy bed, 
 
 But twining around a lady's head. 
 
 From his homeward course he bent him down 
 
 To sip the sweets of that rosy crown, 
 
 But vainly stoop'd from his upward flight — 
 
 Those flowers were only fair to the sight ; 
 
 Of nature's treasures they form'd no part, 
 
 But owed their beauty and bloom to art. 
 
 He tasted but once, and tried no more. 
 
 Then back toward heaven began to soar, 
 
 And with light pinions for ever flew 
 
 From buds which never bad tasted dew. 
 
POETICAL REMAINS. 299 
 
 Oil ! Christian pilgrim, metliinks I see 
 A lesson recorded here for thee; 
 Like that little bird with restless wing, 
 Toward thy home thou art journeying; 
 Like him some bauble meets thy eye, 
 Thou bendest down from thy path on high, 
 And deign'st to grovel awhile on earth, 
 Pursuing some object nothing worth, 
 Exchanging blindly celestial joys 
 For empty pleasures and gilded toys. 
 The feather'd rambler, when once deceived. 
 Delusions never again believed ; 
 But finding those roses false as fair, 
 Flew hastily back to upper air. 
 Nor paused a moment till he had come 
 Safe back to his happy garden-home. 
 So, Christian, whenever thou dost stray 
 From the Gospel's straight and narrow way. 
 Beguiled, alas ! by those painted flowers, 
 The pleasures of this poor world of ours ; 
 And when thou findest, though fair to view. 
 And glowing with many a brilliant hue. 
 That they are worthless, fleeting, and vain. 
 Then never seek such baubles again; 
 Then never more from that verdant road, 
 With garlands and flowers celestial strow'd, 
 To stoop to the things of earth be driven, 
 But wing on thy upward course to heaven; 
 Nor pause, nor stoop from thy joyous flight, 
 Till thou hast entered those realms of light. 
 Where airs of paradise sweetly breathe, 
 And painted roses no more deceive. 
 Nor gilded pleasures avert the eye 
 From gazing upward to joys on high. 
 For faithful pilgrims laid up in store. 
 When the weary journey of life is o'er. 
 
300 
 
 POETICAL REMAINS. 
 
 THE TEST OF LOVE. 
 
 (to the chuech.) 
 
 " Lovest thou me I Feed my sheep." 
 
 Church ! lovest thou thy Lord ? 
 
 Then seek his straying sheep, 
 Then gatlier from thy richest hoard; 
 
 And rouse thee from thy sleep ; 
 Nor rest till from this world of sin 
 The wanderers all are gathered in — - 
 
 To his one fold restored. 
 
 On prairies of the West, 
 
 Where sounds no note of prayer, 
 Where rise no hallow'd arks of rest — 
 
 His scatter'd lambs are there ! 
 Send pastors to that distant land 
 To feed his flock with tender hand, 
 
 With ever-watchful care. 
 
 The red man claims thy aid 
 
 In forests dark and dim. 
 Where all his earthly prospects fade; 
 
 Yet Jesus died for him ! 
 And Jesus bids thee seek and feed 
 The lambs for whom he deign'd to bleed. 
 
 In mortal guise array'd. 
 
 Far o'er the booming sea 
 A suppliant voice is heard; 
 
 The Ethiop waves his hand to thee, 
 And breathes one stirring word, 
 
 ' My land is dark with mental night. 
 
 But thou art cheer'd by fadeless light ; 
 Oh ! bid it shine for me!' 
 
POETICAL REMAINS. 301 
 
 From Grecia's land divine, 
 
 From classic grove and hill, 
 A cry sweeps o'er the foaming brine — 
 
 ' We seek for wisdom still !' 
 Then light that heavenly flame once more, 
 Which dimly burn'd in days of yore, 
 
 In every holy shrine. 
 
 Amid the fanes of Fo, 
 
 That soil by myriads trod, 
 Some pant with fervent zeal to know, 
 
 The true and living God. 
 Christ's sheep are there, and would rejoice 
 To hear the gentle shepherd's voice 
 
 Resounding in their wo. 
 
 Oh, Church, awake! nor say 
 Thou lov'st thy Lord in vain, 
 
 But prove thy love, and watch and pray, 
 His blood-bought lambs to gain. 
 
 Thy banner on the field unfurl'd, 
 
 Erect in faith! that field— the world. 
 His lambs — all those astray. 
 
 THE NOBLE ARMY OF MARTYRS. 
 
 (For All Saints' Day.) 
 
 We sit beneath the spreading vine 
 
 In some sequester'd glade, 
 And where its verdant tendrils twine 
 
 Enjoy refreshing shade ; 
 Or pluck, to quench thirst's burning pang. 
 
 Amid their bowers of green, 
 The clust'ring grapes which richly hang. 
 
 Half hid by leafy screen : 
 
 
302 POETICAL REMAINS. 
 
 Yet think not how, in shadeless field. 
 
 The weary hinds must toil, 
 Before the plant its gifts may yield, 
 
 Or shade, or purple spoil : 
 How day by day, with careful hand, 
 
 They train each tender shoot. 
 Before the vernal leaves expand, 
 
 Or ripens autumn's fruit. 
 
 And thus we rest in peace beneath 
 
 The ever-blooming tree, 
 Whose leaves with fadeless blossoms wreathe, 
 
 The nations' balm to be; 
 Forgetting how the seed at first 
 
 Was sown in barren clod ; 
 How wearily that gem was nursed, 
 
 Whence sprang the Church of God. 
 
 How grew the Church of God? it grew 
 
 Not as a summer flower. 
 But martyrs' blood, like morning dew. 
 
 Was its reviving shower; 
 And round it ever gush'd and pour'd 
 
 A verdure-yielding tide; 
 Thai stream, the life-blood of its Lord, 
 
 Warm from his wounded side. 
 
 Can we forget the glorious band, 
 
 Who, mid those days of strife, 
 Nurtured the plant with tender hand, 
 
 And warm'd it into life? 
 Should we forget, yet deem not then 
 
 Their names can ever die ; 
 Inscribed not on the hearts of men, 
 
 They meet the sleepless eye. 
 
POETICAL REMAINS. 303 
 
 On earth, in hours of darkling fears, 
 
 They drain'd the martyr's cup. 
 Yet faith's clear eye, undimm'd by tears. 
 
 In trust to heaven look'd up; 
 Permitted for awhile to view 
 
 The cloudy curtain furl'd — 
 Jehovah's glory streaming through 
 
 Upon the shrouded world. 
 
 Around them in its fury rang 
 
 The scorner's taunting shout, 
 And swelling trump, and clarion's clang, 
 
 Death's wildest dirge peal'd out ; 
 But from the calm blue sky aloft, 
 
 To cheer each sinking soul, 
 Celestial strains of music soft, 
 
 O'er their wrapt senses stole. 
 
 They sleep — but ever ling'ring round 
 
 Each heaven-remember'd tomb. 
 An angel's voice, with gentle sound 
 
 Breathes sweetly through the gloom, 
 And whispers of each martyr'd son — 
 
 Thus, thus the Spirit saith — 
 They rest, their work is nobly done; 
 
 These all have died in faith ! 
 
 And till from death's calm sleep they wake, 
 
 To wear the diadem. 
 Our mother Church, for Jesus' sake. 
 
 Will fondly cherish them. 
 In faithful hearts their memory stored, 
 
 Let not their fame grow dim ; 
 These martyrs for their martyr'd Lord, 
 
 They must be dear to him ! 
 
304 POETICAL REMAINS. 
 
 TO A MOTHER. 
 
 A Roman lady, round whose snowy brow 
 Rich diamonds from Golconda brightly shone, 
 And in whose clustering ringlets were display'd 
 Pearls brought from far-off Persia's fragrant shores, 
 In the poor pride of human vanity. 
 Once boasted to a mother of her gems; 
 And boldly challenged her in turn to show 
 Stones of such rich and passing brilliancy. 
 The mother in simplicity array'd, 
 (And in that modest garb more lovely far 
 Than if for her ten thousand barks were stored 
 With glittering gems and gold from Ophir's shore,) 
 Her fond heart beating with a mother's love 
 And pride maternal, to her children turn'd, 
 And mildly to her vaunting guest replied, 
 There are my jewels. 
 
 Oh, if Pagan lips 
 To such fond sentiments gave utterance. 
 If Pagan heart such feelings could indulge. 
 Much more the Christian mother should regard 
 Her children as her gems; much more her heart 
 With such emotions ever should be warm'd. 
 Thou hast such jewels — ^^jewels highly prized, 
 And fitted for a mother's ornaments. 
 But oh remember, they are not thine own. 
 But only lent thee for a little while, 
 And He who gave will one day take away — 
 And blessed be His name. Yes, one by one. 
 They will be lost on earth, their radiance fade, 
 And in death's gloomy caverns all be merged. 
 
 So then remember, mother, train them up. 
 And educate them for a better sphere. 
 Early to Jesus bring them ; early feed 
 
POETICAL REMAINS. 305 
 
 Their panting spirits with the bread of life. 
 So when these scenes have vanished all away, 
 And the glad resurrection morning beams 
 Bright through the dim and dusty sepulchre, 
 And in the pomp of heavenly majesty, 
 The Saviour comes to make his jewels up. 
 He for His own shall claim them ; and thy gems 
 Shall shine forever in His diadem, 
 Borrowins their lustre from their Master's brow. 
 
 39 
 
 ARCHBISHOP CRANMER. 
 
 The Church can boast of many a son 
 
 Meet for a mother's gem. 
 Who victor-palms in death have won — 
 
 Right well she honours them ! 
 And yet no brighter name than thine 
 Is written 'mid the hosts that shine 
 
 Around her diadem; 
 And well thy epitaph might be, 
 "She hath no worthier son than he." 
 
 But iron superstition fain 
 
 O'er all thy course would frown, 
 And leave with guilty hands a stain 
 
 Upon thy fair renown. 
 There is a stain we cannot veil. 
 For thou wast man, and man is frail ; 
 
 Yet dims it not thy crown, 
 Nor mars the whiteness of thy vest, 
 In the calm paradise of rest. 
 
 One dark spot on yon glorious orb, 
 
 The monarch of the sky. 
 Can ne'er his golden rays absorb, 
 
 Or hide from mortal eye. 
 And shall a single stain obscure 
 
.'i06 POETICAL REMAINS. 
 
 A life like lliino, so meek and pure? 
 
 Oh ! if 't is writ on high — 
 That hour of weakness, darkness, doubt — 
 Some angel's tear will blot it out. 
 
 O'er troubled seas a gallant bark, 
 
 VVhen tempests meet to play, 
 And storm-clouds round her hover dark. 
 
 Holds proudly on her way ; 
 Then bounding o'er some billow's brink, 
 Mid the wild waters seems to sink. 
 
 Yet mounts above the spray; 
 While moon-beams struggling through the clouds 
 Fall dimly on her tatter'd shrouds: 
 
 And then, the angry waves endured, 
 
 And the wild tempest o'er. 
 In calmer tides she's safely moor'd 
 
 Beside the wish'd-for shore. 
 Thus for awhile that fiery storm, 
 Meek prelate ! crush'd thy aged form. 
 
 Too sternly tried before; 
 Yet soon the hour of weakness pass'd, 
 For thou wast victor at the last. 
 
 And if there be, who aught require 
 
 To wash that stain away ; 
 A baptism of blood and fire 
 
 Hath purged thy mortal clay; 
 And 'mid the flames, with quivering breath, 
 Thou 'st own'd thy Master to the death : 
 
 So brightly closed thy day. 
 Though transient clouds and shadows dun 
 Flitted across its evening sun. 
 
 But once thy noble spirit droop'd ; 
 
 But once, with weary wing, 
 Down to the earth in weakness stoop'd 
 
POETIC A J. KlilMAlNS. 307 
 
 III all thy journeying; 
 Then catching fresher vigor flew 
 Up to its heavenward path anew ; 
 
 And now, where anthems ring, 
 From martyrs, saints, and seers of old, 
 Nor faith can fail, nor love grow cold. 
 
 BISHOP WHITE. 
 
 The white-hair'd warder 's gone, 
 
 Whom Zion hath trusted most. 
 Who had marshall'd at the chill gray morn 
 
 Her sacramental host : 
 The Master came when the day was worn — 
 
 He was watching at his post. 
 
 He stood on Salem's walls 
 
 With spirit of lofty trust. 
 When her children turn'd from her festivals, 
 
 And her shrines were in the dust ; 
 For he bounded forth at her stirring calls, 
 
 The foremost and the first. 
 
 The noontide sun stream'd out 
 
 With its fiercest fullest glare — 
 As in that twilight of gloom and doubt 
 
 The warder still was there; 
 And his deep response to the victor's shout, 
 
 Was a strain of grateful prayer. 
 
 Then the deeper shadows fell, 
 And the hymns of joy rose wild, 
 
 And banners waved on the breeze's swell 
 From turrets to heaven piled : 
 
 Yet the soul which sorrow could never quell, 
 Was tranquil, and meek, and mild. 
 
308 POETICAL REMAINS. 
 
 One prayer for Zion's rest, 
 For the mitred brotherhood, 
 
 The prelates his gentle hand had bless'd 
 In the faith of the holy rood — 
 
 Then on to his Master's home he press'd. 
 That patriarch wise and good. 
 
 No steeds of glowing flame, 
 
 No fiery chariots driven, 
 Caught up from the earth his mortal frame ; 
 
 But the faithful's prayers were given, 
 ^''[ That up from a hundred temples came — 
 
 These wing'd his soul to heaven. 
 
 The Sabbath sunbeams shone 
 
 When his mild, meek eye grew dim. 
 
 When he pass'd with never a moan 
 To the sainted seraphim. 
 
 And Zion weeps for herself alone,— 
 She must not weep for him ! 
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF ARCHBISHOP LAUD. 
 
 Servant of God, well done; well hast thou fought 
 
 The better fight, who single hast maintain'd 
 
 Against revolted multitudes the cause 
 
 Of truth, in word mightier than they in arms ; 
 
 And for the truth of testimony hast borne 
 
 Universal reproach, far worse to bear 
 
 Than violence ; for this was all thy care 
 
 To stand approved in sight of God, though worlds 
 
 Judged thee perverse. — Paradise Lost, Book VI. 
 
 If stern reproach from age to age, 
 
 If fiercest trials borne, 
 And specious lies on history's page 
 
 With epithets of scorn, 
 
POETICAL REMAINS. 309 
 
 Or life laid meekly down for truth — 
 If such must be before, in sooth, 
 
 The martyr's crown is won. 
 How well the Church may number thee 
 Amid that glorious company. 
 
 "The rude eye of rebellion" glared 
 
 Upon thy long career ; 
 Yet all for truth that spirit dared. 
 
 Which scoft', reproach, and jeer. 
 The hosts of anarchy array'd, 
 The red axe, and death's grim parade 
 
 Could never shake with fear: 
 Oh may the primate's mitre now, 
 And ever, bind as firm a brow ! 
 
 Thou wert too stern, and didst deserve, 
 
 'T is said, that bitter wrath ; 
 Too stern at least to shrink or swerve 
 
 From duty's narrow path ; 
 Too stern to bend to lawless bands 
 Who threaten'd with unholy hands 
 
 Throne, altar, household hearth: 
 Who breasts and braves a storm so rough 
 Must needs be made of sterner stuff. 
 
 Thou hadst thy faults ; but what were they 
 
 Who branded thee with crime ; 
 Who scoff'd above thy bleeding clay, 
 
 And flung their taunts to time? 
 Oh ! shame that those malignant jeers 
 Should echo yet in these far years. 
 
 And in this distant clime: 
 'T is time the sons should quench the fires 
 Lit up by their relentless sires. 
 
 Ay ! what were they whom latter days. 
 Which still distain thy dust, 
 
310 POETICAL REMAINS. 
 
 Have graced with epithets of praise, 
 
 Urn, mound, and storied bust? 
 The men whose deeds in glory shine. 
 While foul dishonour blackens thine? 
 
 Let broken faith and trust, 
 A murder'd king and trampled laws, 
 Proclaim how holy was their cause. 
 
 Thou hadst thy faults; yet thine a heart 
 
 Pure, honest, faithful, true, 
 That would not stoop to petty art, 
 
 A universe to sue ; 
 A soul, when fiercest tempests woke 
 Their wrath, that could not bend — and broke- 
 All done that man might do; 
 When waves the sinking bark o'erwhelm, 
 The firmest hand must yield the helm. 
 
 Peace to thy ashes: gently laid 
 
 Beneath a reverend dome 
 That towers in Oxford's holy shade, 
 
 Thy cherish'd boyhood's home ; 
 Where soothing praise and withering sneer 
 Can pierce no more the dull cold ear. 
 
 With toils for her o'ercome,* 
 'T was meet that thou at last shouldst rest 
 Upon thine Alma Mater's breast. 
 
 Time may do justice yet — disperse 
 The shadows from thy fame, 
 
 And bid the bards of deathless verse 
 Thy deeds and worth proclaim, 
 
 While history's hoary sages write 
 
 In characters of living light 
 
 ' The Archbishop was Chancellor of the University of Oxford, and most in- 
 defatigable in his exertions for her welfare. 
 
POETICAL REMAINS. 311 
 
 Thy venerated name, 
 And other, worthier hands than mine, 
 Inscribe thy viartyr''d memory'' s shrme. 
 
 Yet what were praise of man to thee, 
 
 When fear could bring no snare? 
 Thy toil was for eternity, 
 
 God's favour all thy care; 
 Striving for truth, nor smile, nor frown, 
 Could gild or dim the promised crown 
 
 Thy victor brows will wear. 
 VVith God's approving glance to cheer 
 Man's smile or frown must disappear. 
 
 THE PARISH CLERK OF "BISHOP'S BORNE." 
 
 The individual who was clerk of this parish when the meek and matchless 
 Richard Hooker was rector of the same, survived him many years, and lived 
 even to the times of the great rebellion ; and up to the latest moment of his life, 
 entertained the greatest reverence and affection for the memory of Hooker. He 
 died from grief and indignation, occasioned in the manner about to be related: 
 The then rector of the parish being sequestered, a " Genevan minister " was 
 put into the living of Bishop's Borne. The first step the intruder took was to 
 administer the sacrament in the " Genevan " manner. When the stools or seats 
 were placed about the altar, the poor old clerk looked on in astonishment and 
 indignation, and upon being told by the intruding minister — "to cease wonder- 
 ing, and to lock the Church door," thus answered — " Pray take you the keys, 
 and lock me out. I will never come more into this Church ; for all men will 
 say my master Hooker was a good man, and a good scholar ; and I am sure 
 that it was not used to be thus in his days." Report says the old man went 
 presently home and died, — Gathered from Walton s Life of Hooker. 
 
 Dark times, when sternest hearts might quail. 
 
 For hope seem'd lost, forsooth ! 
 Yet faith there was too strong to fail 
 
 In hoary age and youth ; 
 Knight, prelate, monarch on his throne — 
 
312 POETICAL REMAINS. 
 
 Such came — yet came not such alone — 
 
 To do and die for truth ; 
 For honest names of low degree 
 Were writ amid that company. 
 
 Some slowly sank in calm despair, 
 
 Some perish'd on the block, 
 Some stood amid rebellion's glare 
 
 Like billow-beaten rock ; 
 Some fell where war's grim shadows lower'd, 
 And thick and fast the death-shots shower'd. 
 
 While broken with the shock, 
 Were humbler hearts, round which would cling 
 Rev'rence to Church, and law, and king. 
 
 Such heart had he — that lowly man — 
 
 His name unknown I ween; 
 For meek and mild the course he ran, 
 
 As brook in forests green : 
 Whose very murmurs are unheard 
 Save by some little woodland bird. 
 
 And in sequester'd scene, 
 Away from tumult, noise, and strife, 
 He pass'd his unpretending life. 
 
 In early youth his little feet 
 
 The sanctuary press'd, 
 And there in age his hours were sweet 
 
 With cherish'd memories bless'd. 
 He loved the Church with order due. 
 Altar and chancel, desk and pew, 
 
 And priest in snowy vest : 
 He loved the prayers of his dear mother, 
 No better knew nor asked for other. 
 
 But men arose to changes given, 
 Scoffers at things divine, 
 
40 
 
 POETICAL REMAINS. 313 
 
 And soon each holy spell was rivea 
 
 Thut hung about that shrine. 
 The handiwork of other days, 
 Time-hallowed strains of prayer and praise, 
 
 Their wonted place resign ; 
 And quiet faith and rev'rence flee, 
 With decent pomp and liturgy. 
 
 When next the old man sought the fane, 
 
 He found all alter'd there; 
 For voices hymned a meaner strain, 
 
 And breathed a cheerless prayer. 
 And men had grown too proud to kneel 
 To take salvation's sign and seal : 
 
 And so, in calm despair, 
 He turned away, and never more 
 Darken'd the desecrated door. 
 
 Where could he go ibr solace then ' 
 
 His quiet household hearth, 
 His loved ones of the race of men 
 
 Had passed away from earth : 
 Rebellion made her rude abode 
 The place where all his joys had flowed. 
 
 Home of his second birth. 
 Back to his lonely cot he hied. 
 Wept for the fallen Churcii— and died. 
 
 Hour of a mighty empire's doom, 
 
 A monarch's overthrow, 
 A Church enwrapt in cheerless gloom, 
 
 And law and right laid low! 
 And can an individual fate 
 Render the scene more desolate? 
 
 Go bid the ages know, 
 If ye would all its wo impart, 
 The fate of such an honest heart. 
 
314 POETICAL REMAINS. 
 
 LATIMER AND RIDLEY. 
 
 " Be of good comfort, Mr. Ridley, and play the man ; we shall this day light 
 such a candle, by God's grace, in England, as I trust shall never be put out." — 
 Bishop Latimer to Bishop liidleij, at the stake. Vide ^'Book of Martyrs." 
 
 Those men of hoary hair 
 
 Blanched by the mitre's weight--- 
 Hovv calmly 'mid the flame's wild glare 
 
 They meet their fearful fate. 
 Bright their prophetic smile, 
 
 As, with undying fire, 
 Wan superstition lights that pile — 
 
 Their everlasting pyre. 
 
 ■^™t^ They knew the flame then lit 
 '^S^F' A darkened earth would daze, 
 
 That worlds would read their story writ 
 
 In its unfading blaze ; 
 That by its lustre shed 
 
 Along the ages' track, 
 Would idol worshippers be led 
 To God's pure temple back: 
 
 That in each reverend fane 
 
 Where erst the fathers trod, 
 A better and an elder strain 
 
 Would mount to Zion's God: 
 That where they knelt in youth, 
 
 That where they wept in age, v 
 
 Would gleam the glorious Gospel Truth 
 
 From uncorrupted page. 
 
 Along the rocky strand, 
 
 On many a verdant hill. 
 That guards and crowns their father land, 
 
 That flame is burning still; 
 For where low homesteads blest, 
 
POETICAL REMAINS. 815 
 
 And lordly towers appear, 
 
 The martyr's faith is still confest, 
 The martyrs' names are dear. 
 
 Jesu ! throughout all time, 
 
 May that pure light illume 
 Each cheerless realm, and darkling clime, 
 
 Of shadow and of gloom ; 
 Till, where a footstep falls, 
 
 In forest, desert, glen — 
 Till 'mid the " Eternal City's" walls, — 
 
 They bless those reverend men. 
 
 All praise for faith like theirs ! — 
 
 VVith never ending strife. 
 In love unfeigned, with ceaseless prayers, 
 
 Their spirits toiled through life. 
 And, when the dealh-hour came. 
 
 Fierce fires around them curled, 
 Their wearied bodies fed the flame. 
 
 That lights, to Christ, a world. 
 
 THE PICTURE. 
 
 "the COU^iTF.RFEIT PRF.SF.NTMENT of two RROTHETIS," 
 
 Suggested by a beautiful painting by Inman, in the possession of Bishop Doane. 
 
 Two gentle boys with winning mien, 
 
 Soft eye and sunny cheek. 
 Upon the votive canvass seen — 
 
 I almost hear them speak ! 
 A little arm of each is thrown 
 
 So sweetly round the other. 
 As if to say that each had known 
 
 None dearer than his brother; 
 And merrily in pictured play. 
 They laugli the rosy hours away. 
 
316 POETICAL REMAINS. 
 
 1 would your hearts might ever be 
 
 Each in the other shrined, 
 As there your painted forms I see 
 
 So lovingly entwined ; 
 I would that time might pass you by, 
 
 And leave the placid brow, 
 The dimpled cheek, and laughing eye, 
 
 As calm and bright as now : 
 Thus might the picture ever be 
 
 The image of reality. 
 
 I know a father's fervent prayer 
 
 Will day by day ascend, 
 A mother's hopes to heaven repair, 
 
 That God may be your friend; 
 1 know the Church's holy love 
 
 Upon you will be poured. 
 To win your feet her paths to prove, 
 
 To lead you to her Lord : 
 Her gentle efforts, Jesus bless. 
 And guide them to thy righteousness ! 
 
 With spirits firmly knit, dear boys, 
 
 In pure affection's ties. 
 Together share the griefs and joys 
 
 That cloud or light your skies ; 
 Ye will need all the sympathy 
 
 A brother's love can pour, 
 A solace and a charm to be. 
 
 Ere the rough road is o'er ; '■«'/jL-'- 
 
 And with a brother's kind caress, 
 The toilsome way will weary less. 
 
 And if ye ere in after days, 
 
 In some familiar scene. 
 Upon the fair presentment gaze 
 
 Of what ye once had been, 
 
POETICAL REMAINS. 317 
 
 And think, alas ! the cherub-face, 
 
 The lock of golden hue, 
 The brow untouched by care's dark trace, 
 
 No counterfeit of you ; 
 Still may ye feel the holy flame 
 Of love fraternal glow the same. 
 
 Then earlj'' to your Maker bring 
 
 Those yet unsullied hearts, 
 Ere grief their tender chords can wring, 
 
 Or sin's beguiling arts, 
 Or earth with countless witcheries. 
 
 From better things can lure, 
 That He may train them up as His, 
 
 That He may keep them pure ; 
 The pure in heart shall be his sons — 
 God guard and bless you, gentle ones! 
 
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Pr.inceton Theological Seminary Librarl 
 
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